Page 40 of Cream & Sugar
My back arches as my whole body erupts in waves of sparks. A moan escapes my lips before I can muffle it with a pillow.
“What are you—? Oh for God’ssake!”
I wish this was the first time Rory’s interrupted me mid-wank. I wish it was the tenth. Sharing a bedroom growing up, it was kind of inevitable. At least now he knows better than to walk straight in.
“I’ll be in the living room,” he makes no effort to hide his disdain. “Come through when you’re… done.”
“No problem,” I call back to him as I reach for some tissues to wipe the spooge off my belly.
Once I’ve cleaned myself up, I get dressed, wash my hands and head through to the living room where I behold a rare sight: Rory in casualwear, a pale blue hoodie and a pair of grey jeans, to be precise.
“Wow, what’s the occasion?” I ask.
He stands up without looking at me. His car keys jingle at his side, gripped tightly in his gammon-coloured fist. For a second, he just stands there, jaw working. Then, he says, “I’d like to go to the pub. Both of us. Tonight.”
I stare at him, dumbstruck.
“You wanna go to the pub with me?”
“Tonight,” he repeats. “Okay?”
It sounds more like an order than a request. What the hell is going on? Did I come so hard I slipped into a parallel dimension where Rory wants to hang out with me? I can’t remember the last time Rory even went to a pub, let alone invited me along. Maybe it’s a ruse. Maybe this is the night he finally murders me and chucks my body in a bog at the side of the motorway.
“How come?” I try to mute the suspicion in my voice.
Rory lumbers to his feet, ignoring my question. “Let’s go.”
Two minutes later we’re in the car and driving into town. It’s painfully quiet. Rory doesn’t like chatting while driving, he’s all about safety and he says talking distracts him. The same goes for the radio—it’s always off.
We pass Sabre, where a burly lorry driver is carrying kegs inside for a twink bartender so skinny you could floss your teeth with him. I almost suggest going for a drink here to Rory but think better of it. Creatures like Rory aren’t made for places like Sabre,where everything is fluorescent, loud, and go-go dancers hand out lap dances like free condoms in the sexual health clinic.
Instead, we park up two streets away in front of the Penny Farthing where the clientele averages about thirty years older. Of course my brother, twenty-nine going on fifty, would take us to a place like this.
Stepping inside, we’re greeted by a kind-faced woman who shows us to a booth. As we pass the bar, I spy a chalkboard advertising “happy hour” from five till six and, to my surprise, an open mic night from six till eight. However, as it’s almost five-thirty and most of the patrons look about as happy as a nonce in a nursing home, the chalkboard might not be reliable.
As we take our seats, the hostess takes our drink order and offers us two food menus. To my surprise, Rory accepts.
“We’re eating?” I ask once the hostess goes off to get our drinks. “You do know I’m broke, right?”
Rory’s avoiding my eye by staring intently at the menu.
“I’m paying, if it means you’ll stop stealing my meal prep.”
I open my mouth to defend myself but Rory cuts across me.
“I found the Tupperware under the sofa, Fred—”Bollocks!From behind the menu, Rory’s forehead crinkles. “Points for hiding the evidence, but you forgot to come back and dispose of it.”
Shit, I know what this is now. This is a guilt dinner. This is killing me with kindness. I’ve run out of lives and now he’s going to feed me up one last time so he can feel better about throwing me out on the street. Now it makes sense why he gave me the job ultimatum in the first place—he never dreamed I’d actuallygetone. It was never about the job; he’s been looking for a reason to evict me for ages.
Rory cracks his knuckles. “I’m really impressed by you, Fred.”
What the fuck?
“Excuse me?” I exclaim.
Rory folds his menu and sets it down on the table.
“I mean it, I am seriously impressed.” Dread swells like a balloon in my stomach. If he’s about to yell my face off, why bring me to a public place? Maximum humiliation? I clench my fists as Rory carries on. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d get a job in a million years, but I underestimated you. I was acting like a dick the other day and I guess it’s because I don’t like being proven wrong. Plus, work has been mental and… well yeah, I’m sorry.”
