Chapter 4
I hadn’t been back to the house for a week. And the unpaid bills, including a red letter, was what I stepped on when I came through the front door. I saw a sports bag: Nike on the living room floor. We had no foyer. So as soon as anybody entered the house they would see the stairs that were painted white and on the right. The door would always narrowly miss it when swung open.
The front room consisted of a single sofa and double, Tv: 30-inches, dvd player, 2 – calendars with the Chinese alphabet. A straw but comfortable rug saying welcome friends, and a standing lamp with a jaguar-black-shade and a string switch. There was a segregated wall that was half complete on the right-hand side where our miniature kitchen was. The basement was next to the cupboard where we kept our tea cozies and tablecloths.
Stanley has just come up from that basement that I was just about to check. He jumps – I jump. We both are alarmed. So, she chose him to stay after all. How fitting for Taylor. “Sta … Stanley, right?” I pretend to forget his name. I know it alright.
“Yeah.” He looks at the bills that I have in my hands. “I haven’t seen you around. Taylor said you were staying at your boyfriend’s?”
“He’s not really my … yeah, I was staying at his.” I can’t be bothered to go into details. “So, she chose you then?”
“She vetted a few other guys. But in the end, she chose me. I … I hope that’s ok with you?”
“It’s out of my hands.” I hoped that didn’t sound rude?
“That doesn’t sound positive for me?”
“It’s not you. It’s uh … Taylor who I have to deal with.”
“I get you.” I hadn’t noticed his other arm tattoos which were mainly naked women in pin-up form and perky – pig breasts that were larger than double-ds. They were dressed in coloured booty shorts and sucking on the muzzle of the gun.
One graphically blew her head off with single letters forming into a cloud that read blow me like this, pappi. I overstayed my stare and forgot myself by reaching my middle fingers out to touch the one where she’s blown her head off … Stanley grips onto my middle fingers, but nippily let’s go from embarrassment.
My heart leaps to the toilet and gets flushed down to avoid having to look into his eye. I snicker the words out - don’t do it -don’t do it - don’t do it. Like a jackrabbit trying to keep the pace at a high tempo.
“I need to find my manners. I’m sorry for grabbing your fingers. I was going to guide them through the whole outline of the tattoo. That one is brand new, so you’d feel how deep the artist went when he did it.”
“Just a little inappropriate.” –
“Yeah.” Stanley slants his head. “I can’t just be reaching out and touching you.” He renders inaudible. I try and think of anything to say. But what the hell, I’m back to staring at the same tattoo. I want him to guide my hands on the outlines. His eyes follow me. “Maybe just this once then. I could … guide your hands?”
My fingers were drawn to his tat. And I placed that as plausible to have him give me a guided tour. He did. And my heart leaped to drink with the stars, as the coarseness and bumps could be felt over every indelicate line the tattoo artist made. I feel some of the stencil, some redness, and some tiny swelling by the finishing of the hair.
It was like sandpaper and going over sharp rocks that had points that would go high like mountains in a way. The coloring of the shorts was the smoothness. He had applied the aftercare moisturizer and had a clean floral scent. Can’t really name the flower.
When Stanley was done with the outline circuit, he just looked up at me and massaged my hands. It got more intense. My eyes started to penetrate his own as it felt good. Real good. In fact, I should stop this finger rubbing before I reach a climax. I have all the time in the world to pull away and stop him. But I can’t. And then it moves to the next level … he’s bringing my fingers to his bottom lip.
He only takes my ring finger, and lets it glide: going closer and closer into his mouth. That’s when I go frigid before he puts it inside. “Sorry” –
“Sorry!” I’m unsure why I’m apologizing. And on cue, Taylor walks in and sees me heading straight up to the bedroom. I’ve no idea what the look on Stanley’s face was.
…
“Knock, knock,” Instead of actually knocking for permission to enter into my bedroom, Taylor makes the sound effects. She’d be better off knocking because I don’t want to hear her voice.
I let her in though … or she lets herself in because the door was open mid-way. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Not before we speak about these bills.”
“You pay them. It’s your house.”
“You’re joking, right?”
I’m not. “Yes. I’m being sarcastic.” I wasn’t. But who needs any more aggro after what happened downstairs with Stanley. “Now that Stanley is here, we can pay it off. I’ll call them tomorrow.” I’m getting under the covers in my shorts that don’t quite cover my two bum-cheeks and my sports bra. “Goodnight.”
“I missed you.”
“Uh huh. Can you switch off my light when you leave?”
Taylor must have heard shut the door for me. “I vetted other potential housemates? The majority were over 30, and either in-or-out of the army. It turned out that Stanley was the best suited.”
My eyes were closed and ready to sleep even if Taylor was in my room. But she managed to sprinkle that wake-up session mentioning Stanley’s name. “I think we need to find another housemate.” I won’t add because I don’t trust myself to do the right thing.
“I’m not getting rid of him. I met his daughter, Chanel. She’s the cutest little thing I’ve seen. You have to meet her?”
“No thanks.” –
“Why not?” -
“Because he won’t be staying here.”
“Did you break up with Marcus?” –
“I’m up!” I spring up from the deathly sleep that was calling me in this double bed.” I’m up. Because you aren’t going to let me sleep!” I chuck off the covers in my heated frustration. I’m tired. But she won’t leave!
“Calm down, Megan.”
“No. I won’t calm down when you never listen to anything that I say! And Marcus is just as ignorant as you. We had a good thing. It worked. And now he’s gunning down my throat trying to stick a label upon me. I’m now forced to break up with a guy who isn’t even my boyfriend. All the emotions and drama is very much present though. I’ve done it again.”
“Did something happen?” -
“You and Marcus happened.”
“Oh … very uplifting. I’m your best friend.” -
“Who was close to chucking me out my own house!”
“Our house!” -
“Over some guy who didn’t want you.” I stop my venting anger. That was too far down the Damascus way. And judging by Taylor who’s now coming to sit on my bed, I think the truth hits her harder than it ever has before.
“I needed to hear that.”
“Yeah but … I didn’t mean for it to come out so mean.”
“But that’s what it is. Rejection. You’re Megan, pretty, slender frame, curly mixed hair that’s natural, confident and determined to do whatever the hell you want. And I’m Taylor: short, bendy legs with a little too much beef and no ribs, stomach could do with an iron press, and my face could do with a weight loss class, and my forehead can break through metal.”
“You’re beautiful, Taylor. Men tell you this all the time.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t. But I’m not you, Megan.”
“Don’t compare yourself to me.”
“Carl was in the way. And even though he screwed ever girl that he assured me he didn’t. None hit home worse than you. Knowing that you and him were intimately writing to one another when he had to go back to enlist.”
“I never got intimate with him. You know that. It was just … stupid of me to do that. I had to escape from Marcus.”
“Who loves you.” –
“He thinks he does. It’s more about me not bending over and allowing him to spank me with a paddle. It's controlled. That’s all he wants.” –
“That’s what you want to believe.”
The tiredness in my voice comes out, “it’s true.”
“And what was Carl all about? Was it the power of knowing that he had feelings for you too? Are you afraid of Stanley? Is this somehow all connected?”
“You need to get some rest. We both have work.”
“You can’t dump Marcus because you’re guilty.” -
“Absolutely! But I’m tired. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
“I’m going with Stanley and his daughter to a 2-year old birthday party, so I’ll be gone in the afternoon.”
“What … why? You hardly know him.”
“He invited me.” Taylors up now. “And how could I say no to such a cute invitation. You know I would like and want kids one day.”
“Don’t get to close to Stanley. He might turn out to be another Carl.”
“It’s just a friendly invitation. Nothing more.”