by A Zukowski
Alex loves how Chris’s cheeks show a flash of pink
and his dimples deepen. He could watch Chris all
day.
Alex is pleased he’s made Chris laugh, too. Apart
from Sam, he never used to make much effort of
chatting people up. He has been told so many times
that he’s too intense.
Still laughing, Chris says, “Sometimes these
flatmates are far too colourful. Feel free to tell me
more about your dull security job.”
Alex grins. Chris’s invitation to a budding
friendship is helping to heal Alex, to deal with the
troubles that have plagued him for the past five
years.
~~~
Chris flows down the aisles in the supermarket on
autopilot. It’s his night off, and he’s officially off the
meat market until next time. The last creep he
hooked up with proceeded to stalk him on social
media, telling everyone what a slut he was. Fuck
that shit. Chris plans to stay home and make some
proper food instead of thinking with his dick.
Shit. That big man currently examining the
bread selection… Alex is unmissable, even with
oversized Ray-Bans and his baseball cap. He stands
out more because of the obvious disguise as if he
was in a bad comedy movie. Chris shakes his head,
turns down another aisle and plans to come back
later for the bagels.
Displacement.
46
Now, which coffee grind? With the corner of his
eye, Chris sees Alex approaching. Why is he
everywhere I turn? Without thinking, Chris puts
the nearest pack of coffee in his basket and starts to
walk away.
“Why are you avoiding me?”
Busted.
Chris turns slowly, maintaining an act of
innocence despite the blushing. Alex’s forehead
furrows.
“I’m not avoiding you. I thought you might want
some privacy while shopping. You know, what with
the glasses and headwear.” He twirls his forefinger
around his head.
An amused smile appears on Alex’s face. “What?
Because I’m afraid you know what I eat for my tea?”
“Oh, fuck off.” Chris can’t help but grin too.
Alex grabs a jar of instant coffee. “Do you want to
walk home together, or am I violating your privacy
knowing where you live?”
“Fuck right off.” Chris is still smirking, though.
“All right. I may let you walk alongside me.”
Chris can sense the man’s raised eyebrows and
amused expression, hidden behind his large
sunglasses.
“Why, thank you.” Snarky.
“I’m nearly done.”
Still with a smile, Chris surveys the contents of
Alex’s basket: loaves of white bread; tins of tuna;
packs of ham, cheese and coffee. Diet Coke.
Chris tilts his head back towards the bread
products aisle. “I’ll grab some bagels. Won’t be a
sec.”
47
When they walk out of the shop, Chris is loaded
down with three bags of shopping while Alex has a
single bulging sack.
“Shall I take one for you?” Alex offers, pointing to
Chris’s shopping.
Chris rolls his eyes and wonders if they’ll stay on
the top of his head if he spends any more time with
Alex.
“I may not have as much muscle as you but I can
definitely manage my own shopping, thank you very
much.”
Chris’s sinewy biceps are mildly impressive. The
hours spent in the gym are not only for cruising and
his job.
“Oh, you’re sensitive, too,” Alex muses, seemingly
enjoying Chris’s tough act.
“Fuck you,” Chris retorts.
“And very eloquent.”
Chris stops and glares at Alex. “Are you sure
about this walking back to the flat business? Do you
think we’ll make it to the front door without
throttling each other to death?”
Alex considers Chris and smiles at his
exasperation. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Surrender.
Chris dons a pair of Jackie O glasses, shielding his
eyes from the slanting sun, and takes off, not
waiting for Alex. Alex has to jog along to keep up
with Chris, who marches on, his long slender legs
carrying him along quickly.
Five minutes later, Chris stops outside a coffee
shop. “Wait, I’m going to grab a coffee. All right?”
Eyeing the hipsters sitting on benches and
48
working on their computers, Alex asks hopefully,
“To go?”
“We can sit down for a few minutes if you want.”
Chris cocks his head to challenge Alex to spend
more time out in public.
Alex considers it, hesitating outside the coffee
shop. He looks from the patrons to Chris, his feet
rooted to the spot.
Sensing Alex’s fear of public places, Chris pushes
open the shop doors without giving him a chance to
flee.
“We’re going in,” he declares.
As they walk in, several of the customers gawk at
Alex with curious gazes. Is it because of his size and
tattoos? Chris glances over at his flatmate, who
keeps his sunglasses on and faces straight ahead, as
though he’s trying hard not to be the centre of
attention.
Alex walks quickly, his movements stiff, all the
way to the back of the café, and sits at a small table.
Chris joins him and looks around the half-vacant
shop.
“Can you tell me why we’re sitting by the toilets?”
Chris waves his hand to indicate the free tables
around them.
Alex peers over his Ray-Bans. “I like it here.”
Chris raises an eyebrow, but he can’t argue with
Alex’s eccentricity.
Alex pulls out a ten-pound note. “Would you
mind getting me a cold coffee?”
“What kind?”
“The dark-brown kind.”
Chris points to Alex and shakes his head. “You!
49
All right. A cold Americano it is.”
He returns with two cups.
Alex sips his drink but keeps his head down,
sitting uncomfortably.
“Blue. Is that you?”
Chris and Alex look up to meet the enquirer: a
scrawny, middle-aged man with a moustache and
greasy hair.
“I thought I recognised you as soon as you walked
in.”
Chris waits for Alex’s response, but he’s
speechless for the moment, his hands tightening
around the coffee cup. Beads of sweat grace his
forehead.
Brake. Stop and hold.
Blue.
50
CHAPTER 3
BLACK
ALEX’S TENSION VIBRATES in the air like the humid
oppressive atmosphere before a storm. Chris
straightens and inhales, sharing Alex’s discomfort.
The intruder carries on, oblivious to Alex’s
anxiety. “Are you going to box again? Man, I l
oved
your matches. I thought you were the best
heavyweight this country has ever produced.”
Not eliciting any response from Alex, he quiets
down. “I’m sorry…you know…for what happened.”
After a pause, Alex mumbles, “I think you’ve
mistaken me for someone else.”
The man blinks. “Really? You’re not Alex Whale?
Are you his brother? I swear you’re the spitting
image of Blue.”
Alex nods. “Yeah, I’m sure. Sorry to disappoint. It
happens a lot.”
The man scratches his head. “Okay. Uh. Sorry.”
He goes into the bathroom.
Chris watches Alex until after the interloper has
re-emerged from the toilets and returned to his
seat, with a few backward glances at Alex on his
way. Chris asks, “Blue? I like it.”
Alex draws a breath. “My surname’s Whale, as
you heard.”
Chris processes that for a moment. A nickname
for his size.
51
Chris should have known from the broken nose
and scar on his cheek under the left eye socket. She
has a hundred questions for Alex but promises
herself she won’t pry too much unless Alex wants to
talk.
“You used to box. You had a nickname and people
recognise you, so you were successful.” Chris
whispers as though she’s uttering something illicit.
Alex shifts in the seat, away from Chris. “Yeah, I
was doing all right.”
Chris considers Alex, who takes off his
sunglasses. His irises shimmer like tiger eyes in the
cheap lighting of the coffee shop. Alex sits in a rigid
way as though Chris’s gaze is a spotlight shining on
him.
“You were not only doing okay, though, were you?
Your fights were on the telly. How famous were
you?”
Alex shakes his head and sighs. “I’m sure you can
find out all about me if you search the internet.”
Chris frowns at the suggestion. “But I’m not going
to unless you want me to know. Why don’t you tell
me about yourself when you’re ready?”
Alex plays with his plastic cup of Americano. “I’m
not sure if you’ll want to speak to me ever again if I
told you.”
Chris absorbs what Alex has said. “Try me. My
person specs definitely include discretion and being
non-judgemental.”
She also takes pride in being able to read people.
She’s mighty pleased with how she uses that
transferable skill on her new flatmate.
She looks around the café, and a few people are
52
still glancing Alex’s way, but most of them have
returned to their drinks and conversations. “You’re
so successful that a lot of people on the street will
recognise you, right?”
Alex sighs again as a ‘yes’.
“Something happened, and now you work as a
security guard. Why can’t you box again or train
other people? Isn’t that what athletes do when they
stop competing?” Chris cocks her head.
Alex squeezes the bridge of his nose. “I can’t face
the boxing ring, but I’ll think about training others.
My old coach has asked me to work with him. For
now, I only want a normal life.”
“What’s a normal life?” Chris pronounces the
word with disdain while she stretches her long legs
across the floor in front of her.
Alex shrugs. “You know, the kind where you don’t
have strangers approach you in a coffee shop.”
Chris quiets while she drinks her coffee. Despite
her usual annoyance with Alex, she wants to
comfort him because he sounds so pained. She’s not
sure if he might welcome a hug or a distraction.
“Welcome to my world. I’ve no idea what I can do
when I ‘retire’ and I’m not getting any younger.”
She’s been looking for laugh lines in the mirror
lately. Despite the fact that she has no career plans,
she’s tired of her life, her job, and some days she
seems to be losing her sanity when she keeps
dwelling on things that should remain buried.
Alex takes his sunglasses off. “How old are you
anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Twenty-six. My birthday’s soon. So, nearly
twenty-seven.”
53
“Fuck me. Look at your fresh face and bright eyes.
Do you eat babies or something?”
Must the man’s compliments be so backhanded?
Chris gives him an eye-roll. “I won’t fuck you, but
thanks, I guess.”
“I thought you were in your early twenties. And
how long have you been a wh—I mean…escort.”
Chris wags her eyebrows. “Since I was eighteen,
on and off.”
Alex whistles. Chris glares at him.
“Sorry. You surprised me with your age and how
long you’ve been in the job. Eight years.”
“Yes, I can count.” Although she’s lost count of
how many times she’s sold sex in that time. A
thousand? Two? She’s lucky and grateful for the fact
that she earns good money. She knows there are
other types of sex work and different conditions and
prices.
Chris doesn’t want pity from anyone, though.
Why should she worry about what Alex thinks of
her, anyway? It’s not like she’s not used to people’s
negative reaction to meeting a sex worker. It’s
refreshing for Chris to meet someone who isn’t
freaked out much by it. Chris always feels as though
she
repulses
respectable
folk.
They
are
contemptuous and assume she’s dirty and diseased.
She’s learned to refuse the hurt; a stony heart is the
only way to stay immune.
Yet Chris wants to disclose more about herself
when she’s with Alex, while worrying about what
he’ll think of her. Peculiar. “Y’know, people don’t
aspire to be prostitutes when they grow up, but it’s a
job. I tried to make it as a model when I left school.
54
It didn’t work out.”
Alex gaze meets Chris’s. “What kind of
modelling?”
“Pretty much anything. You know how it is.” She
shrugs.
“No, I don’t know. Have I seen anything? I’d
remember your face.”
“I doubt it. I’ve done stuff like fashion catalogues,
advertising. Some were…more adult.”
“Oh, that kind of modelling.” Alex’s eyes widen.
“You were a porn star?”
“No, it’s not porn. Just glamour stuff and
underwear.” Chris frowns. “Well, it’s still modelling.
I’ve accepted lots of different gigs. That’s all.”
“You sure like taking your clothes off, don’t you?”
“Work.” Plenty of people enjoy looking at a body
like hers, but they despise her for what she does.
Chris sucks up the last of her coffee, then she purses
her lips and
licks them slowly to provoke the other.
Alex gazes at the soft lines of Chris’s mouth,
transfixed.
Chris returns the look. There’s something very
beautiful and expressive about Alex’s beaten-up
face, the scar and the sharp, strong planes.
“Don’t you parade in front of people, show them
your muscles and tattoos, and beat the shit out of
other men? Do you call it entertainment?” she
retorts.
“Sport,” Alex replies with conviction and takes a
sip of his drink.
“Same fucking difference. You were selling your
body, man.” Deep down, Chris knows it is not the
same. Alex must have trained hard to be a top
55
boxer.
Chris doesn’t harm old folks and minors, and the
men who buy her do so willingly. She sells personal
services at a price. Why does Alex have this effect on
her? For brief moments, Chris has doubts. If she’d
never started working in the sex industry, might she
be the one Alex wanted? She might be the one
someone wanted. Damn. What even is the meaning
of their budding friendship? Times like this, Chris
has to agree with people who tell her she’s dumb.
Alex comments, “You must be good at what you
do.”
Huh? “How do you know that?”
Alex shrugs. “You’ve been at it for eight years, so
you can’t be that bad. And look at that face. I bet
men melt at your feet.”
Another backhanded compliment.
Why have you not crawled at my feet yet? That’s
not a question she can ask Alex. “Why do I find you
really annoying, Alex Whale?”
Alex grins. “I know that feeling. I find myself
quite infuriating.”
Chris smiles back at him.
“Listen. What are you having for dinner? Tuna
sandwiches? I’m making a pasta dish. Do you want
some?”
“What’s wrong with tuna sandwiches? That’s
what I’ve always eaten. I need protein for training.”
Alex sulks.
“But you don’t box anymore, remember? It’ll be
good for you. Pasta, tomato sauce, vegetables and
cheese. Get some vitamins in you, my sweet. I can
even put some tuna in it if you like?”
56
“Yeah, I’d love a home-cooked dinner. Thanks,”
Alex says.
“Well, drink up or take it with you, Alex Whale.”
Alex smiles as though amused by Chris’s use of
his full name. To Chris, a laughing Alex is gorgeous.
His stern and broken face lights up, revealing
perfect white teeth.
Alex leaves the rest of his coffee and follows her
