6. CHAPTER SIX
My stomach grumbles so loudly of its unappreciated emptiness that Kazooie’s shriek, as he and Banjo ultimately die from being struck by one too many whiplash tentacles, is completely drowned out. Which is ironic, because that’s how they died; underwater, swimming in the stomach of a cyborg shark in Clanker’s Cavern.
Did you understand a word of that?
Trust me, it makes complete sense and is exactly what I needed. Classic, old-school, offline gaming. Whilst I would have loved to make my way through the Japanese controlled Pacific wielding a World War Two era MP40 submachine gun, mowing down players in an attempt at killing my own speculations in the process, the mere thought of being called a fag by fourteen-year-olds for missing a shot is something I just couldn’t handle. And once the idea was in my head, I needed to make a full 180 back to my roots.
Before my abandonment at Lancaster showed me life’s truths, I was reared by my cousin’s old Nintendo 64. The paradox of a child spending their summers on a West Country estate surrounded by animals and woods, staying in a manor house with more bedrooms than extended family members combined, that instead chose to spend every day at the foot of their bed with a transparent purple controller in their hands may have been a sight to behold if anyone bothered to come looking for me. James Bond, Mario and his go-karting frenemies, and a talking bear carrying a bird in a backpack were my friends, my escape, until five o’clock when Grandad would knock on my door and it didn’t matter anymore that Mum and Dad had left me behind again.
Just as it had all those years ago, time passed in the blink of an eye.
Skipping lunch and bolting back to my room had seemed like the right idea at the time.
After spotting Kai from his open bedroom window, I was sure he’d be waiting in the hall for me, but when it was empty, I took my chances and locked myself in. No food. Nothing but tap water and toothpaste if the situation became dire enough. Yet, no matter how far I try to push him from my thoughts, he’s still there.
Despite trying to avoid him, the darkest recesses of my mind wish he’d knocked on my door and invited himself in. So I could be around him. So I could see if the way my dick reacted last night was just a fluke…
A door opens and slams shut.
I try to convince myself it’s not Kai’s, but I know it is.
It would seem that even in the confines of my new—albeit low in supplies—sanctuary, I’m never going to be separated from him.
I close my eyes.
What is he wearing?
Has he brushed that faded blue hair?
Are his eyes still holding onto those heavy dark circles?
Fuck, he’s got some serious young Norman Reedus vibes. Grime and eighties punk rock seeping from his pores.
Kai’s door opens again and my body moves on its own. In no time flat, my chest is against the backside of my door as I squint through the peephole in the hopes of glimpsing him.
Pulling away, I scrunch my face in confusion before leaning back in to watch Alma rock back and forth as she runs her hands through her long black hair. Shoulders rounded and shaking, I’m almost compelled to ask her if she’s alright, but a crying woman is not something I know how to deal with.
At least… it looks like she’s crying.
Finally deciding to leave, Alma appears to reconsider and hovers in the outer perimeter of my fisheye view of the hallway. I hope she does try knocking again, but only for my own selfish reasons. Only so that I might see the man I’ve spent all afternoon avoiding, as though picturing his ass in our work khakis isn’t enough of a mind fuck already…
My obnoxious messenger alert rips me out of stalker mode. Backtracking, I smile as I slump onto my bed.
MAVIS : OMFG I just got through the most boring induction ever!!! Kill me now!!!
JESS : That good, ha? Sounds a lot like mine, but I’ve been finished since lunch. Do you know what your job is yet?
MAVIS : Cocktail waitress…
JESS : That’s cause you’re so fucking hot. But I have a feeling you aren’t psyched.
MAVIS : Cause I start tonight!
JESS : Same with Saxon. But I think you’ll handle it better.
MAVIS : You should see what they have me wearing. It’s… It’s… a glorified French maid outfit. It’s practically lingerie!
JESS : Would it be too forward to ask for a pic?
Joking, joking. I’ve got more than enough of you stored in my spank bank. ??
Honestly, my uniform is pretty fucked too.
Oh, and I almost forgot. Guess who I’m working with?
MAVIS : Firstly, the term spank bank disgusts me. Second, despite that, I’m still flattered. And lastly, unless you tell me you start tonight, I don’t really care who you’re working with. ??
JESS: . . .
I keep writing and deleting my reply.
MAVIS: Fine… But I haven’t met anyone other than you, Saxon, and Romeo.
JESS : Yeah, and…?
MAVIS : FUCKKKKKKK ??
Kai, yeah?
Have fun with him.
I’m still not sure who he wanted to have his way with more. Me or you!
Holy fucking shit balls.
If Mavis noticed, then Romeo and Saxon definitely did, and I need that about as much as I need a kick in the bollocks. Though that might do me the world of good if it could help curb my curious hormones. But again, I’m a barrister, not a scientist. And I don’t like guys. I don’t like Kai. My cock was just confused. I was tired, and the wires got crossed.
End of internal rant.
JESS : Excuse me? What are you talking about?
MAVIS : Just an observation. He was making eyes at you through the rearview mirror. And I saw you blushing more than once when you caught him looking.
JESS : I wasn’t blushing and I’m not gay.
MAVIS : Yeah, I remember. ?? And yes you were. And I’m not trying to label you as anything. I’m just saying that you didn’t seem to mind the attention. ??
JESS : Enjoy your first shift.
I throw my phone out of reach and press my thumbs into my temples, curling them until the nails are scraping at my skin to counteract the swirling that’s returned to my stomach.
Guilt.
Disgust.
Disorientation.
Eagerness and craving.
All valid descriptions of how I feel when thinking about Kai.
I can rationalize all of them except… disgust.
Why do I feel such self-loathing? I’m not homophobic. I have gay friends. I staunchly believe that everyone is born equal and always intended to use my chosen career to support human rights in whatever facet they were presented to me. But my own life? My own wants…
Wants?
What the hell am I saying?
I don’t want anything other than to stop thinking about if Kai’s legs are covered in ink as well. If he goes to the gym or likes to game. Does he have a favorite food? How often does he smoke and would he give up for me because I quit a year ago and it hasn’t been the easiest journey…
Quit?
For me?!
We’ve barely spoken five sentences to each other.
I can’t do this anymore. I don’t care what Romeo says, I’m dragging his ass out for a drink.
There’s barely a patch of the shitty gray carpet tiles in my room that aren’t covered with my clothes. Bed, desk, literally every place except where they should be. But I’m a man on a mission to rid his mind of its sexually confusing thoughts, with a night of drinking way too many beers to even consider setting up house for the year to come.
Jumping over both my open suitcases in a flying leap, I don’t even bother checking myself in the mirror before scuffing into my black and white Adidas Originals and all but tumbling out the door.
With ample amounts of nervous energy coursing through me, I shrug on my jacket and head for the stairs to save risking a surprise hallway visitor whilst waiting for the lift.
Exiting the stairwell on level two, I almost run into Saxon’s room. The prick may have already started his first shift, but he made enough time to scribble ‘fuck off’ on a scrap of cardboard and force it into the name slot beside his door. Recalling how anyone who sought entry to our dorm room at school was met with the same greeting, I snicker to myself—my memories swirling back to me like they always do, except…
Now all the tangled limbs, ass slapping, and skin-on-skin contact don’t seem so brotherly.
Countless times over the years, Saxon and I laid together on his bed, legs touching, our arms around each other’s shoulders. Add a few drinks and hands get grabby, then throw in some flirtation that would make your grandmother blush. God, throw Romeo into the mix and it borders on an orgy. We’ve shared beds. Spooned. Taken showers together. Pretended to be into each other when we thought it would improve our chances with the opposite sex…
Have I been in denial since I was eight years old?
Am I so comfortable doing those things because—
I pound my fist against Romeo’s door and slump my forehead against it in defeat because my entire being knows how fucking stupid I’m being right now.
Yesterday morning during our last layover, Romeo had fallen asleep with his head in my lap as I ran my fingers through his hair. At no point—just like the countless other times we’ve been that close—had my dick twinged. He’s my brother. My best friend. We’re closer than most blood families where we come from. The thought of him rolling over and rubbing my cock was the furthest thing from my mind.
I wretch at the thought, my tongue gagging out of my mouth at the image of Romeo between my knees.
Pushing off the door, my body shivers overdramatically at the realization that I now have to convince the man I just pictured sucking me off to come out drinking.
Oh, what a sour twist of fate that I am more content in the arms of my same-sex mates than I am alone with my own thoughts.
“Hey, Romi. Open up.” I bang loudly.
“What the fuck, Jess?” With his door open just enough to poke his head around, Romeo’s eyes squint as they adjust to the brightness of the hallway.
I shake my head and push into his room. “You look like death warmed up.”
Flicking on the light, I click my tongue at the state of his room, and by state, I mean assembly. Everything is already in its place, with suitcases stored neatly beneath the bed.
“What ya watching?” I ask, looking at his open laptop as I make myself at home on his bed.
“Nothing really. I was almost asleep. Jetlag is still fucking with me.”
“Wouldn’t know the feeling.” I roll my eyes as he sits beside me. His typically perfect dark curls are a mess and his cheeks and nose are dusty pink with sunburn. “Make sure you wear sunblock next time, would ya?” I tell him, running my fingertips over the hot skin. “Don’t wanna ruin these model looks.”
“Piss off,” he sighs, batting my hand away. “What are you here for, anyway?”
“We’re gonna get on the piss.”
“You might be, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, yes, you are. I’m a brother in need, so get to the bathroom and fix your hair.”
“Seriously, Jess. I’m way too shagged to go anywhere.”
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Romi. I seriously need this.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause that blue-haired fuck, Kai, is my shift partner.”
A deep, lamentable exhale leaves Romeo’s weary chest. “Okay. I’ll give you two hours. But not a second longer.”
“Don’t tell me it took you all that time just to do your hair?” I tease Romeo as he begrudgingly steps out into the common room from the lift. “You were already dressed when I left you.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” he mopes, collapsing back on Alma’s desk. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“Can’t know,” I shrug, scrolling through options on my phone. Romeo echoes the phrase without thinking. Just like we always have and always will whenever we hear it, ever since the day the duo that was Saxon and I became a threesome.
Nudging me with his elbow, Romeo draws my attention towards two girls heading outside. Hair and makeup done, there’s no doubt about their intentions for the evening. With a quick meeting of our gaze, Romeo and I follow them. Plunging his hands into his pockets like hanging out in front of a staff housing building is the coolest place to be, Romeo jerks his chin upwards in a silent greeting.
“Hey, cutie,” the more blatantly extroverted of the pair acknowledges him. Her long, slender legs are bare, which is fucking insane because the black-heeled boots she’s wearing are an inch deep in snow. The pleated skirt she has on is leaving little to the imagination, and a cropped winter coat, and shoulder-length, flaxen-blonde hair accompany the look of mischief on her face. Her accent is local—not Townie local, cause why the hell would she live here—but North American. Yet whether she’s Canadian or from further south, I have no clue. “Saw you on the mountain today.”
“Really?” Romeo sidles up to her. “Did you have a day off as well?”
“Na, babe. We were working.” She bumps her friend with her hip.
You know how people say you’re either sexy or cute? Well, this pair is one of each. Her friend has striking, deep-red hair tied into twin braids with several loose strands obstructing her round, porcelain cheeks. She’s got jeans on too, so at least she has a brain in her head, though her smile is timid when our eyes meet.
“What do you girls do then?” Romeo asks.
“Ski instructors,” the sexy one says proudly.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a serendipitous little meeting?” I smirk, stepping forward and slumping my arm around Romeo’s shoulders. “My friend is here to do the same.”
“So you’re the new guy?” the cute ginger asks, stepping forward like she’s squaring him up for a fight. “You had some skills out there today, but I’ll have to take you up the mountain and see firsthand if you’ve got what it takes.”
“Settle, Gretal,” her friend laughs. “Kenny just takes her job very seriously. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m Romeo, by the way,” he interjects, extending a hand towards the cutie.
“Kendall Murphy,” she replies with a slight flick of her head, completely ignoring Romeo’s outstretched hand. Looking at it, he nods and grins before sliding it back into his pocket.
“And I’m Cleo. It’s nice to make your acquaintance, fresh meat ,” she emphasizes. “The ladies are gonna love you pair.”
“What are you—”
“And I’m Jesse,” I interrupt Romeo, tired of being left out.
“Where have they got you?” Cleo asks.
“Reception.”
“So you’re Kai’s new plaything?” She grins with a suggestive twinkle in her eye. “He’s gonna have a lot of fun with you.”
His name is like an ache in the balls. I can’t get the fuck away from it. And now all eyes are on me, waiting for a response. My head is swelling with a million questions my stomach wants to ask, but my tongue won’t let me speak.
“Ah, this is our über,” Cleo pipes up, breaking the silence as a mini-SVU pulls up behind her. “Did you guys wanna jump in?”
“Where are you going?” Romeo asks.
“Does it matter?”
“No,” I answer for him, nudging him forward.
Taking the lead, Kendall jumps in the passenger seat, leaving Cleo to shimmy into the middle back. And once we’re all in, the car pulls away.
Heading down the same road Kai drove along last night, we’re soon out of the resort's front gates and into the pitch black of the Rocky Mountain night.
Within several minutes, Misty Mountains—the resort Mavis works at—illuminates the dark. It’s bigger than Vistas. Grander. Newer. But they share the same slopes, lifts, lodge, and external shops and restaurants, and —if I’d been placed there instead—I could have seen Mavis’s waitress uniform up close.
My balls tighten at the thought, and my face beams.
See hormones? I’m not bent.
Another ten minutes on and the lights of a small alpine town come into view.
One street in, the driver pulls up in front of an Irish pub. Shaking our heads, Romeo and I both chuckle. It seems even coming halfway around the world, we still can’t escape the comforts of home.
“What’s so funny?” Kendall asks, spinning around to look at us.
Cleo rolls her eyes. “They’re British, you idiot.”
“Yeah. So they’re not Irish.”
“Just get out. I’m dying for a drink,” Cleo demands with a groan that says, man, this bitch is hard work sometimes.
Peeling out onto the icy footpath, the sounds of Van Morrison coming from inside THE PRIDE OF DONEGAL fill my ears. “Looks pretty authentic,” I admit.
“That’s cause an expat owns it. Some old Irish guy who came here twenty years ago and never left,” Kendall says, heading for the door. “Come on, it’s too cold out here.”
Following her in, my nostrils are assaulted in the best possible way by a mix of Irish stew, beer-stained floorboards, and a sudden pang of longing for our local back home in Hackney. Just like our regular haunt, The Empress, this place has no air of pretentiousness. It’s equal parts dingy and welcoming, and absolutely bloody perfect.
Romeo and I follow Cleo and Kendall to a table where they hang their coats on the backs of high-legged chairs. Removing our own, we remain standing as the girls get comfortable. Like the consummate gentlemen we are, we collect their drink orders and head to the bar.
“Cleo’s hot as fuck,” I say, leaning my forearms on the rounded wood at the front of the bar.
Romeo leans beside me. “They’re both pretty fucking attractive, if you ask me. But I’m not sure if making a move on the birds I’ve gotta work with is such a great idea… This soon, anyway.”
“God, you almost gave me a heart attack. For a second I thought you were going ‘born again’, or some shit.”
“Fuck no.” Romeo hangs his head. “I’d take death over abstinence.”
“So you’re gonna look elsewhere, then?”
“Maybe.” Romeo looks back towards the girls. “Maybe not.” He turns back to me. “How ‘bout you? Ya gonna take a stab at Cleo?”
“Na.” I shake my head. “Not my type.”
“You just said—”
“Yeah, said . It’s an opinion. She’s attractive, not a must-do.”
With a scoff that says, you’re fucking crazy, I’d be balls deep in her if I didn’t think it would disrupt my day-to-day, Romeo takes another look back.
“Hey. Why is Kendall’s name so familiar?” I ask as the bartender finishes serving the customers beside us.
“Yeah.” His head whips back around. “I thought she looked familiar at first but couldn’t place her till she said it. She won bronze at the last Winter Olympics.”
“Fuck. And she works here?” That’s a fall from grace if I’ve ever heard of one.
“I remember watching her in the X Games when I was younger. She fucking slayed the Superpipe.”
“How old is she?”
“A couple of years younger than us?” He shrugs, more like a question than an answer. “She turned pro young. Maybe she was just sick of competing and retired—Oh, hey Mate.” Romeo turns from me to the bartender. “Two Guinness and two champagne.”
“Wonder what Cleo’s story is. She’s not some superstar-slash-Instagram model I don’t know about, is she?”
“Fuck knows,” Romeo smirks. “But you sure are asking a lot of questions for someone who isn’t interested.”
“Do we really need to go over this again? Because I will if I have to.”
“Fuck you.”
“Don’t get sassy ‘cause you have some caveman urge to fuck every female that makes eye contact with you. It is completely possible to find a woman attractive without wanting to stick your cock in her.”
“Yeah. But isn’t it so much more fun when you do?” He grins slyly.
“Oh, Romeo, Romeo. Wherefore art that respect for women you were grilling me about at breakfast?”
“ My respect? They throw themselves at me.”
I mean, he’s not lying, and Cleo does strike me as the kind who would pin a guy down to get what she wants, but a little self-restraint goes a long way. Though, who am I kidding? Moderation is not a word Romeo Estrada is familiar with. The guy just graduated with honors as a Molecular Biologist from University College London. No knowledge is too unattainable. No amount of alcohol is ever enough, and no pretty smile is ever worth saying no to.
Once the drinks are in front of us, Romeo hands over his credit card before I even have a chance to open my wallet. “Let me get the next one, alright,” I say, taking my beer and one of the champagne flutes.
“Not if I get it first,” he smiles genuinely before following behind me and demonstrating in one fell swoop the duality he wields daily. The guy might be the biggest man-whore you’ll ever meet, but he’s loyal and kind through to the marrow of his bones, and whomever the lucky lady is that manages to tame him will be treated like a queen for as long as she continues to breathe.
Before taking the seat next to Kendall, I place the champagne in front of her and she thanks me for it.
“Don’t thank me, Romi paid.”
“Oh, shit.” Her shoulders slump and her hands writhe in her lap. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Romeo insists. “Jess said he’ll get the next round so you can thank me then,” he says with a wink—his eyes lingering on her face.
“Drink up.” Cleo pats Kendall on the leg. “Don’t want it getting warm. They’ve got the heating cranked up so high in here tonight it won’t take long.”
With a tiny nod, Kendall tucks some hair behind her ear.
“You’re fine, Ken. These guys don’t care.” Cleo slides Kendall’s glass closer before picking up her own and bringing it to her bubble lips for a sip. “Kenny here gets a little flustered around new people when not talking shop. All she did was train for like fifteen years . Then all of a sudden that part of her life is over, and she’s still trying to find her feet.”
“Clee,” Kendall whines, leaning forward to cup her face in her hands.
Looking slowly from Romeo to me, Cleo raises her hands as if saying, what did I do? Either the girl is a trained actress or completely clueless because I can’t figure out if she truly doesn’t know that what she said embarrassed Kendall, or if she’s just one of those girls who love to stir the pot so vigorously the whole kitchen catches on fire.
“Let’s not introduce her to Saxon, hey,” Romeo jokes.
“Why not?” Cleo asks innocently.
“Because one soulless psychopath at a time is enough for me,” he deals back to her with a much less jovial tone.
“Sounds like my type of guy,” Cleo volleys without missing a beat, her face now as steely as Romeo’s.
“On second thoughts, maybe we should introduce you. It could be quite entertaining.”
“Are you saying you like to watch?”
“If it means seeing girls like you get taken down a notch, then yes.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Cleo.” I butt in before the pair start hate-fucking each other on the table. “You, ah… Back there, you kinda made it seem like working with Kai isn’t a good thing.”
“Oh.” The rigidity of her body diffuses and the effervescent girl we met twenty-five minutes ago is back with full force. “I wouldn’t say that,” she giggles before taking another sip of champagne.
“Well, what would you say then? Cause he’s gonna have a lot of fun with you doesn’t sound all too appealing.”
A belly laugh erupts from inside her, and a smile even breaks on Kendall’s face.
“Can’t help but feel like I’m being left out of something.”
“Calm your farm. I’m just teasing,” Cleo dismisses with a wave of her hand like she isn’t a complete nutcase. “Kai is just very… interesting, is all. Not bad , interesting, but still interesting nonetheless.” Her eyes raise from mine to the void above my head like there’s a movie of him playing there. “He’s charming. Beautiful. Alluring. He has a way about him that commands attention from everyone. I can’t describe it in any other way than… it’s Kai being Kai.”
“Is he gay?”
Cleo splutters, coughing up the champagne that was midway down her throat. “Fuck no!”
“And what makes you so sure?”
“First-hand experience.” Her eyebrows raise as she stares at me straight on. “Take it from me. That guy loves pussy. And boy, does he sure know how to please.” Her gaze remains laser-focused for several more seconds, silently reiterating her point before she breaks with a cheeky smile and casually leans back. “Let me guess, he’s been flirting with you? Called you adorable? Gorgeous ? Am I getting warmer?”
“Pretty boy,” I admit.
She snickers, “Yep, that sounds like our Kai.”
“So he’s just fucking with me, then?”
“No… I wouldn’t say that either. But he hits on anyone attractive, so I’d take it as a compliment. Flustered the fuck out of this one when they first met.” She gestures towards Kendall.
Then the words leave my mouth before my brain can stop them. “Is he bi?”
“Why, pretty boy? ” Cleo rests forward on the table. “You interested?”
And that is exactly why I’ll curse the looseness of my lips until the end of time.
The shit-eating grin on Cleo’s face tells me she got exactly the reaction she was hoping for.
“Haha, not likely,” Romeo scoffs. And I take a long sip of my beer, thankful his eyes were focused on Cleo because god knows what my face looks like right now.
“Well, either way,” Cleo continues, swaying her champagne glass back and forth before staring so deep into my soul that I know she can read my mind. “You are very pretty, Jesse. But him being bi…? I really don’t know... As I said, he sweet talks anyone he thinks is hot, but I’ve never known him to actually hook up with a guy… I’d still be careful if I were you, ‘cause it doesn’t mean he hasn’t. And the pair of you are going to be spending a lot of time together. You might get pulled into his snare without even noticing.”