Page 37 of Charlie Sunshine
“For tonight, I have.” I open the door and remove his weekend bag that I stashed there earlier while Charlie was asleep. It’s half-open, and his stuff is spilling out of it. I look at Harry and throw it at him. As it hits him, the clothes burst out like they’re a jack-in-the-box cascading to the floor.
“There’s your shit,” I say. “Now, fuck off. What Charlie wants to do tomorrow is up to him, but I’m in charge tonight, and I’m telling you that you’re not getting anywhere near him, so sling your hook and do one.”
He throws me a fulminating glance and bends down to startstuffing the clothes back in his bag. As he stands up, I reach down to pick up a lacy pair of panties which have fallen out of a bundle of clothes. I throw them to him. “You’ve forgotten something, Harry.”
He looks down at them, and a nasty expression crosses his face. “Oh, they’re not mine,” he says softly. “They’re Charlie’s.” As the shock hits me, I gape at him, and he smiles. “Well, well, it seems therearesome things that you don’t actually know about your bestest friend. I wonder why that is, eh, Misha? I wonder why you never knew that Charlie likes wearing pretty lacy knickers. Maybe he didn’t feel like he could confide in you.” I flinch, and he laughs before chucking the scrap of fabric back at me. I catch it reflexively, and my fist closes around the material, the lace rough on my skin. He laughs again. “This is hilarious. Wait until I tell the lads at work about?—”
He doesn’t get any further because a red mist descends, and I throw myself at him, tackling him and taking him down to the ground. His hold on my T-shirt ensures that I follow and we roll around on the floor for a few seconds grunting and trying to land punches.
There’s the sudden sound of a door opening behind us, and an aggrieved posh voice says very loudly, “Do you know what time it is, you inconsiderate wankers? It’s midnight, and I need to go to sleep.”
“Well, go to fucking bed, then,” Harry mutters as I push his face into the carpet.
The door slams and I redouble my efforts at breaking his face.
“Stop it,” he grunts. “Fuck off, Misha.”
“If youeverthreaten to bad-mouth Charlie again, I will rip out your tongue and insert it up your arse,” I say through gritted teeth. “Thereby confirming everyone’s opinion of where you talk from. You leave him alone from now on.”
He shoves me off and we fall apart, staring at each other in a corridor filled with the sounds of our panting breaths.
He looks at the knickers lying on the floor by my hand, and a smirk crosses his face. “Pick them up, Misha. You might be able to keep them. Pity you can’t do the same for Charlie.”
He just has time to look alarmed before I fling myself on him, and the fight starts again.
A few minutes later, he squirms under me as I sit on him. “Okay,”he hisses. “Jesus Christ, okay, I promise I won’t say a fucking word about Charlie ever again.”
“You’d better not,” I mutter, but I let go of him and sit back.
He pulls himself up and scrambles back until he’s sitting propped up against the opposite wall. We stare at each other.
“Charlie’s too good for you,” I say coldly and clearly.
“I didn’t sign up for all of the epilepsy stuff,” he says defensively. “It’s not just me. Other men would find it hard to deal with too.”
“You have the emotional depth of a spit ball,” I say scornfully.
“Oh, and you’re so perfect, Misha,” he sneers. “You always do the right thing. Everyone loves you at work.”
“It’s not a popularity contest.”
“Says someone who’s already won. According to everyone, you’re handsome and funny.” He looks at me dismissively. “No one seems to see the fucking arrogance.”
“Pot and fucking kettle, mate.”
He shakes his head. “I got him only to find that he was yours all the time and the two of you were both too stupid to realise it.”
“Charlie’s not a prize in the grabber at a fair. Maybe if you hadn’t acted like he was, you’d have stood a better chance.”
Silence descends, and then he sighs and scrapes his hair back. “I should have caught him tonight though.”
Rage sears me at the image of Charlie falling towards him, so vulnerable. All Harry had to do was put out his hands, but he stepped back. I look at him and don’t even bother hiding my disgust.
“Yes, you fucking should have,” I say evenly. “As far as I’m concerned, your relationship with him is done, but I don’t have the final say. It’s up to Charlie.”
He gives a humourless sort of laugh. “Keep saying it, Misha. Maybe you’ll even convince someone.”
“I just have to convince him,” I say silkily. “And that shouldn’t be very hard to do.”
