Chapter Seven
"Hey, Mark," Jennifer smiled as she opened the door. "Come in. Looks cold?"
"Yeah, it is." He slipped past her, turned and gave her a peck on the cheek.
"Ah! You feel frozen," she said, at the touch of his lips.
"So how's everything?" Mark followed her into the large living room. It was certainly warm enough in the house.
"Good."
She wandered over to the fireplace. It was either the original fireplace to the house or else a very good reproduction. Whatever the case, it had been converted to a gas fire which attempted to look real. The flames were there, but not the crackling wood. The logs never changed, only glowed.
"I spoke to Vicky on Friday. First time in a while. She's coming on the trip to Brussels."
"Really?" Mark was surprised. "I've seen so little of her. You know, since everything happened. I thought she had lost interest in college."
"No. She's just steering clear of Arran."
"And did she say anything. About Arran or his dad?"
"Only, the court case is put off for a month. She's not about to change her mind."
"She strikes me like that case on the news." He sat down in the leather armchair in front of the fire and looked up at Jennifer. "You know, it's the same trip. Blackmail, only Vicky's payoff is some sort of revenge, not money."
"She's not a prostitute, Mark."
"But she's acting like one. At least she's being vindictive and lying. Lying which might get Arran's father put behind bars. If they believe her. If she doesn't finally come to her senses."
"Can we talk about something else?" Jennifer warmed her hands on the fake fire.
"Where she getting the money to come to Belgium? I thought she was broke. They were paying for some fancy lawyer. Costs a fortune."
"Who told you that?"
"Ali. She's been talking to Vicky as well."
"She never said anything to me."
"Jen, you don't really talk about that stuff. You ask her how things are. Try to keep in touch, still be friends. I don't know. Ali, she's pushing her to change her mind. Actually I'm not sure everything between her and Arran is over."
"How so?" Jennifer shook her head and brushed the hair back from her face.
"I don't know. Just a feeling."
"You've talked to Arran?"
"Only briefly."
"I'll have to have a serious chat with Ali. Find out what's going on." She smiled at him, "Coffee?"
He nodded.
Tom had checked it was okay to meet at Arran's house as they couldn't come to his place, not with his mother there and only his tiny bedroom. Salem had chatted with him again online, for a long time. It was obvious they couldn't be seen together around the neighbourhood so he arranged to meet Salem in the park, by the lake, near the old bandstand. They could then get together at Arran's.
The huge question for Tom, and it was worrying, was how he would tell Arran. If he had figured things out then he had the horrible fear Arran would drop him. His life had become more complicated since meeting Arran, or since coming to live here. He wasn't sure which.
Before they moved he'd experienced bullying which eventually became unbearable. It led him to the edge, to asking himself if it was worth it, carrying on. Anybody might reach the same conclusion, contemplate ending it in the only way there is when you can't tell anybody and when you don't see a way out. Just end it all.
He didn't, and then he met Michael online. Michael who had his own problems, family problems, a family that would never accept who he was. Michael, Salem, that was mind blowing. They were living not so far apart, but only knew each other online. Michael/Salem was damaged goods, there was no doubt in Tom's mind. Since they'd got together, knowing him more had only confirmed it.
Perhaps he was too emotional, or maybe he simply was as broken as Salem, but he couldn't say no to Salem. He had too much fear about the consequences of rejection. But whilst he was sucked into that liaison he also needed Arran. Could he talk about all this and deal with helping Arran and his dad?
The dark figure of the slim, rakish boy, was hunched up with his hoodie pulled down over his head. There was nobody about and it was cold enough to freeze your balls off. A thought that made Tom laugh as he moved towards Salem.
"Okay?" Tom looked at him, but couldn't see more than a tiny glimpse of skin. "Let's go."
Salem reached out and grabbed Tom's arm, pulling him back, stopping him dead. Their breath was a moist vapour spiralling into the cold air. When the wind blew it hurt your face. Tom turned to face him. Salem looked up into Tom's face. It looked like he'd been crying.
Tom gulped, struck by the boy's stance. Something was wrong. "You're not okay, are you?"
Salem stared at him. "You never said Arran was your boyfriend."
"What? I explained."
"No. You explained last night. Online. After I asked you."
Salem was upset, Tom could see that, feel the tension.
"Oh shit! It's so freaking complicated." Tom went to put an arm around Salem, but he shrugged it away.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He looked around as if someone might see them.
Tom saw fear in his eyes. Just a glimpse before he lowered his head and hunched his shoulders against a gust of wind.
"Let's go. Please. We can talk in the warm."
"No. I'm not going to your boyfriend's."
Tom was starting to panic. He could feel the emotions building up inside. The conflict was inevitable, just as was the need to do the right thing. The overpowering demand to help. Help, was that even the right word? He wondered.
"Come back to my place then."
"No I can't. If someone sees me."
They stood there by the old bandstand where once, many years ago, music entertained crowds on warm days. Now it was cordoned off and would probably get demolished. Tom felt his resolve slipping. He felt he was losing his newly found hold on things. He was being made responsible for everyone, for everyone else's problems.
"You better come to Arran's. It's the only way I can talk to you and you can talk to me. Don't chuck it all away. I've never lied. Not to you, not to anyone."
"You never said who Arran was. I thought…"
"Salem, don't get jealous."
Tom started walking. Reluctantly, Salem followed.
Arran opened the door and showed them into the front room. It was much more pleasant inside, at least temperature wise. Salem however was sulking. He was ignoring Arran, didn't even say hello. He was being an obnoxious teenager and it annoyed Tom.
Arran took their jackets, hung them up in the hall and went into the kitchen where he finished making three hot chocolates.
"Salem!" Tom looked at him, frowning. "Be nice, or I'll…"
"What?" Salem snapped.
The boy had gone from miserable and feeling sorry for himself, to jealous and defiant. Arran came back carrying a tray which he placed on the coffee table. Salem looked at him like Arran wasn't even in his own house. Like he was some sort of servant. He didn't even bother with an acknowledgement or a simple thank you. The atmosphere was as frosty as the air outside.
"Thanks for coming," Arran said to both of them, but he was looking at Salem. "Tom told me, maybe you can help."
"Yeah," Salem said, aggressively. "That was before he told me about you."
Arran looked at the boy. Tom was stunned and didn't know where to look.
"Told you about me?" Arran repeated. "What did he say?" He glanced quickly at Tom before focusing back on Salem.
"That you are boyfriends."
"Oh! I see."
"No. You don't see at all," Salem responded.
Tom had had enough and he interrupted angrily. "Shut up, Salem." He took a deep breath. "I've tried to think of how to tell you this," Tom looked directly at Arran. "Salem… he… has feelings for me."
There was a silence that seemed to take on an air of thickness, not a tension you could cut, but a gooey mud that everyone was stuck in. Arran, he wasn't sure what he felt, but it made him laugh.
Tom stared at him. Salem spluttered into his hot chocolate.
"I'm sorry, but this is just so screwed up. I get together with a guy, because… Because I'm attracted, attached… I've got feelings for. You," Arran looked at Salem. "You come along and beat the shit out of him," Arran looked at Tom, "You turn out to be his best online friend and you want to hop into bed together. I haven't even said anything about your ape of a brother."
"And you," Salem looked back across the room at Arran, "want this girl off your father's back and want me to help get it done."
"You're right," Arran had stopped laughing. "But that ain't quite the same thing."
"We never did anything," Tom butted in.
"Shut up, Tom!"
Arran was angry.
"Salem come here, I wanna talk to you. Alone." Arran put his drink down.
Salem followed him out of the lounge. Tom watched them disappear. Arran led Salem upstairs and opened his bedroom door. As Salem looked inside, Arran grabbed him with both hands and manhandled him through the doorway. Gripping the boy tightly he pushed him hard back against the wall, pressing his body into Salem. Their faces were inches apart.
"What's your game?" Arran asked, calmly.
Despite his aggressive actions, he was very composed. Salem slumped against the wall, going completely loose, he didn't fight back.
"Go on then." The boy looked like he was going to cry. "Beat the shit out of me. If it makes you feel better. That's what you want, isn't it? Go on do it. Do it!" He raised his voice.
Arran raised his right arm and made a fist. His hand swung through the air in an arc towards the kid's face.