Fran woke with the words 'what the hell were we drinking last night'
mere moments from her lips.
But she didn't have to ask. She knew. She recognised the
blinding headache, the desperate need to be violently sick despite
having thrown up everything in the small hours of the morning, the way
her tongue felt like it was covered in wet fur and tasted like soggy
dog.
Absinthe.
Every time they drank it she regretted it and swore never to touch the
stuff again. Until the next time.
Always until the next time.
She didn't need to open her eyes to know where she was. The
leather sofa in the bookshop. How many nights had she spent on
it? Too many. She should get herself a life of her own, she
decided. But she couldn't remember much before meeting
Bernard. She was never sure who she'd been before this place.
"Fran?"
"Manny? My head feels like a dead badger."
"Mine too. But it's worse."
She groaned softly. "Worse than what?"
"Look!"
Cracking her eyes open a fraction she saw Manny crouching beside her
holding something up. Something black. Something made of
leather. Jacket. A black leather....
She sat up suddenly, regretting it instantly. Her brain seemed to
roll around in her skull like a bowling ball and for a moment she
fought the urge to throw up her stomach. It passed slowly and
eventually she could open her eyes enough to stare at the familiar
leather jacket.
"That's Jason's."
Manny nodded once. "Yes, Fran. And you're clutching his
shirt."
"What?" Glancing down she found that what she'd thought was a
sheet someone had covered her with in the night was actually a crumpled
white shirt.
"Oh, God." She dropped it into her lap, staring at it for a
second before glancing at the jacket. "Where did you get that?"
"I woke up with it!" There was a degree of panic in his voice she
suddenly understood.
"You don't think you...?"
"You're the one with his shirt!"
"You don't think I...?"
"You're more likely to have done, don't you think?"
"I don't know. I can't remember." That was the problem with
Absinthe. You could never remember....
Heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs made them both start.
Standing carefully, Fran took the crumpled evidence with her as they
made their way tentatively into the kitchen, both fully expecting a
half-naked Jason to appear God-like at the bottom of the stairs.
When, instead, an unshaven Bernard appeared they both deflated somewhat
with the words, "oh, it's you."
He looked from Fran to Manny in vague disgust. "Excuse me for
being alive in my own house."
"Sorry," Fran apologised reluctantly.
"Why are you both standing there like frozen lemmings?"
Manny started to bounce excitedly. "I woke up... with Jason's
jacket!"
"And I woke up with his shirt!" Fran added, triumphant grin on her face.
Bernard regarded them thoughtfully. "That's nice. I woke up
with Jason."
When it became obvious that the goldfish impressions were going to go
on for some time, Bernard filled the kettle and flicked the switch,
finding a relatively clean mug and a tea bag that had only been used
once.
"You're lying," Fran finally remarked, with the confidence of someone
who couldn't face the alternative.
"Why would I lie?"
"To wind us up. To make us think you're better than we are.
He wouldn't want you over me!"
"Or me...." But Manny's stammered addition didn't have the
certainty of Fran's declaration.
"Really?"
Making himself a cup of tea, careful to find the fresh milk in amongst
the bottles of sour cream, Bernard settled himself at the kitchen
table, eyeing his two friends with no discernible expression to
reassure them.
Fran relaxed marginally, pulling out a chair and gingerly sitting
down. "You're having us on," she smiled at him. "I'm the
one with his shirt. I think we had a fun time on the sofa then he
left."
"What about me? I've got his jacket!" Manny sat down hard,
dropping the heavy garment to the table.
Fran looked pointedly at him. "Which you obviously stole when he
took it off before he stripped off his shirt."
Miserably, Manny stared at the leather. There was no way of
knowing but it was more plausible than his first assumption, he had to
admit. Jason had been all over Fran all day and all night.
And she did have his shirt.
"Morning, all."
Jason's bright voice drew the sudden and flustered attention of both
Fran and Manny as they tried to reply without tripping over their
tongues.
Half-naked as expected, the golden-haired travel writer padded across
the kitchen and took his shirt from Fran's limp grip, shrugging it on
before taking up his jacket.
He smiled warmly at both of them then dropped a hand to Bernard's
shoulder. "Thanks for a great night."
Bernard smiled up. "Anytime."
"See you later, yeah?"
He nodded and took a mouthful of tea as Jason left.
Then, slowly, he looked back at his two friends, smiled indulgently and
went to open the shop.
Fran met Manny's shocked expression with a matching one of her own.
"He's making it up. They both are. They must be."
"...."
"They're doing it to get us back for something we can't remember.
They set this up."
"...."
"Manny!"
He shook his head once, quickly, mouth shut.
Fran sighed and headed into the shop, determined to find out what
really happened. A moment later, as if just realising he was
alone, Manny followed with jerky movements, banging his hip on the edge
of the table as he went.
"Tell me what happened," Fran muttered, dropping into her usual seat as
Bernard made himself comfortable at his desk. Manny skulked in
the background.
"What happened when?"
He did seem too cheerful for a morning and that gave Fran cause for
concern. Still, it could still all be an act. He had to be
lying.
"Last night."
"Oh, you don't remember? That'll be the Absinthe." He said
it scathingly and she stared at him in disbelief.
"Don't get on your high-horse with me! You're the one who's drunk
99% of the time."
He tapped out a cigarette. "But at least I know when not to drink
Absinthe."
She crossed her arms on the desk and wished the elephants would stop
jumping up and down in her skull.
"What. Happened?"
Leaning back in his chair, glancing at Manny who wasn't looking at him
at all, he filled his glass from the open bottle on the desk and took a
deep lungful of smoke before starting.
"Do you remember the restaurant?"
She thought hard. Yes! Jason had taken them to an expensive
Italian restaurant on Covent Garden. They'd had one of best meals
they'd ever tasted and drank three bottles of the expensive Merlot on
the wine list and Jason had paid for everything.
Nodding carefully, she said, "I remember."
"And you remember trying to get off with the waiter?"
After hunting for that particular memory she moved her head side to
side.
"Well, that didn't exactly endear you to Jason. But, obviously,
you were too drunk to notice that and when we got back here you got out
the Absinthe declaring we should all have a lick of the green fairy."
It was all starting to come back now. She looked at Manny whose
face was the same mask of horror she knew was on her own.
Bernard nodded. "I see it's all coming back now."
"Yes. You said we were being silly and that drinking Absinthe was
like sucking the devil's co-"
"Yes, I did and it is. But that didn't stop you and Manny
emptying half the bottle, physically attacking Jason, stealing his
jacket and his shirt but luckily collapsing unconscious on the floor
before either of you had time to do any actual damage. After
that... well... Jason and I polished off the nice little red I'd nicked
from the restaurant and he asked me if I wanted to go to bed with
him. I said yes, up we went and the rest isn't any of your
business."
Fran decided she hated him, sitting there all smug and not
hungover. Aching in all the best ways no doubt. His whole
body looked sated and relaxed. Quite sexy actually.
She hated him.
Manny had taken to pacing backwards and forwards just behind her
chair. She tried to ignore him.
"Why you?" she asked accusingly, utterly grumpy now.
"Why not me? Manny, for Christ's sake, will you sit down?"
He sat, perched on the edge of the sofa, still not saying a word, still
looking at the floor.
"You're... you're you! You're smoky and winey and... and you're a
man!"
Bernard tipped his head to one side. "That didn't seem to bother
him. And he definitely noticed."
Manny muttered something but neither of them could hear it and they
both ignored him.
"Don't tell me you took Jason - a man-God - into that... hellmouth of a
bedroom of yours."
"Yep. Actually it's been quite tidy since Manny's moo-ma cleaned
up around me that morning." He smiled, unutterably pleased with
himself. Another mutter from the sofa was again ignored.
"Are you honestly telling us that you and Jason... that he... and
you...?" She wiggled her index fingers around in the air in vague
back and forth movements.
"Yes." He smiled coyly, "he wasn't bad for an Englishman.
Odd how it's the people you least expect who turn out to be bo-"
"STOP IT!"
Bernard stared at Manny while Fran covered her ears and winced.
"What is wrong with you?"
Manny was on his feet, crossing the space between them, leaning heavily
on the corner of the desk, "How could you?"
"How could I do exactly what you would have done given half the chance?"
"No! I wouldn't! That's not what I wanted."
"Really?"
"Yes. No. That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
"How could you? You? You're not interested in men, you said
so. And if you were interested, which you're not, but you must be
because you... with him, why him? What's he ever done for you?"
Bernard considered that. "Actually, he did quite a lot...."
"Shut up! You've barely known him twenty-four hours! He's
just going to use you leave you! He doesn't care about you."
Still seated, Fran watched and listened to the exchange with a small
smile.
"What are you talking about? We had sex, that's all. He
didn't propose and we're not considering a long-term relationship."
"So you gave yourself away like some... some whore?"
Lost for words, Bernard stubbed out his cigarette and turned to
Fran. "You're a woman, you have emotions. You deal with him
and give me the gist of it when I get home."
She glanced up. "Bernard...."
"Don't start."
Pushing his chair back, he grabbed his coat from the peg.
"Where are you going?"
He nailed Manny with a steel gaze. "Out. By the time I
return I expect you to be behaving normally and not talking rubbish."
She tried again. "Bernard!"
"I said, don't! I've had a wonderful night, I'm going for a walk
in the sunshine."
But Manny beat him to the door, hand on the jamb. Bernard growled
but Manny ignored him.
"If you walk out now I'll have left by the time you get back."
Having turned around on her seat at the desk, Fran lit a cigarette,
impressed by today's show. Bernard was studying Manny intently,
obviously also aware that this was somewhat out of the ordinary.
"No, you won't."
"I will. I mean it this time."
Bernard hesitated but he stepped forward, reaching for the door
handle. Manny backed off but didn't look away as Bernard opened
the door and took another step before pausing.
Then he slammed it shut with an almighty rattle of glass and yelled,
"Why will you have left?"
Relieved, Manny slipped back into the kid gloves. "Because it's
not right."
"What isn't right? Me and Jason?"
"Yes."
"Why? Because he chose me over you two? Or because he
actually found me attractive and you can't believe anyone would ever
find me attractive?"
"No! It isn't that."
"Then what? Did you want him so much that you're so jealous of
me...."
"I'm not jealous of you!" Manny overrode him, hands out, fingers
spread, desperate for Bernard to understand. "I'm jealous of him."
The quiet confession was followed by a deathly hush. But with
that out in the open, Manny decided he might as well hang himself as he
already had his head in the noose.
"Four years I've been living here, looking after you. Cooking,
cleaning, making sure you don't drink yourself to death by ensuring you
eat. All I get is insulted and yelled at and occasionally burnt
or stapled. But I don't mind because it's you and you're...
you're worth it. Then along comes a young golden-haired god and
you're all smiles and making the tea and offering yourself to him on a
silver platter."
Fran tore her eyes from Manny's expressive face for just a moment to
bask in the utter amazed confusion on Bernard's.
"He doesn't care about you, you're just another willing body for him to
rape and plunder and leave discarded on the side of the road of his
exciting life. I care for you. I love you. And all I
get is insulted and yelled at and occasionally burnt or stapled."
Fran lifted her head and called out, "You said that."
Both men turned in perfect sync. "Shut up!"
She went back to grinning behind her hand.
Bernard stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his long coat and
leaned back against the wall between the door and the bookshelf,
sighing loudly like this was the very last thing he needed.
"Why do you love me?" he asked the dirty floor.
"I don't know."
"But you do?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you say before?"
"You told me you weren't interested in men!"
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
Fran popped her head up again. "Actually, he didn't. He
said...."
"Shut up!"
Manny rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "I'm sorry about... what
I called you."
Bernard shrugged, pushing his hair off his face. "He's the first
man or woman I've slept with in years."
"I know."
"And for the record, no one rapes or plunders this body without losing
important parts of their own."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Throwing her arms in the air, Fran sat back. "Don't apologise!"
"Will you SHUT UP!" Bernard stared at her. "What are you
still doing here anyway? This should be a private conversation."
She shook her head with a grin. "Nothing between you two is ever
private. It's loud, it's noisy, it's often violent and it's
always pure entertainment." The Absinthe hangover was the worst,
plus Jason had passed her over for a drunken smelly Irishman. She
was desperate to share the misery with as many others as possible,
especially Bernard.
He looked at her for a long time then, finally, he looked at Manny and
held out his hand.
Manny was instantly suspicious. "What?"
Bernard wiggled his fingers. "Come on."
Tentatively, he reached out and took the offered hand. And as he
did, Bernard pushed himself away from the wall and pulled Manny toward
him.
Without any show, he brought them together and kissed him.
No noise, no violence.
Fran stared, open-mouthed, at one of the most incredibly erotic sights
she'd ever seen.
Ending the kiss with a very private smile just between the two of them,
Bernard stepped back and still holding on to Manny's hand he said
quietly,
"Please don't leave."
Eyes wide, Manny shook his head slowly. "Never."
"Good." Then he turned to Fran. "You. Find somewhere
else to be tonight, we'll be busy." Her grin managed to show off
every tooth. "I am going for a walk. I've run out of
cigarettes. By the time I get back I want every inflatable in
this place deflated and disappeared - with the exception of that cactus
-and my bookshop back to looking like the dusty hole it's supposed to
be and not the arse-end of some tropical jungle."
Manny frowned. "Why the cactus?"
"I promised Jason he could have it. He said I reminded him of a
cactus."
"What? Green with an appreciation of heat and sand?"
Bernard let go of Manny's hand and opened the door again.
"No. Long and thick. And a bit spiky."
With a small shrug he left them to it.
fin
elfin
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