This fiction takes place while Ste and Doug are together and running the deli; with Brendan making frequent visits on a daily basis. It's based on a scene that takes place in my previous fiction 'When Your Mind's Made Up,' in which Ste admits that, while he and Doug were in a relationship, he had had a dream about Brendan. Ste's P.O.V.
Care
Brendan came into the deli today…
Seriously right, the guy doesn't know when to quit, does he? Sometimes I feel like his main goal in life is to torture me. I think if he could, he would just abandon his job at Chez Chez and dedicate twenty four hours a day, seven days a week to aggravating me. He's just always there; lurking outside the deli window, spying on me, sitting for hours taking up space. There's also the fact that he never pays, at least not regularly; he just gets me to put it on his 'tab.' Thing is right, we don't do 'tabs' in the deli, do we? Doug always tells me to kick him out or ban him, but how can I? He's a customer and the customer always comes first… even when the customer is Brendan Brady.
"He brings in money, Doug!" I hissed, "he's a paying customer!"
The moment Brendan walked in, Doug rolled his eyes and gave me 'that look.' The one that said he was sick of seeing Brendan's face constantly on a daily basis. I looked at Brendan and gave him a cold smile, not bothering to hide the shake of my head or the flicker of anger in my eyes. God, I hate it when he comes in…
"Brendan, what a surprise!" I said, in a tone that implied it was anything but a surprise.
"Steven, always a pleasure," he nodded, then turned to Doug, "Douglas…"
Doug stood beside me, face fixed in a glare. I tried to tell him he should just ignore Brendan, but he doesn't listen! What Doug doesn't understand is that this is what Brendan wants. He wants us to be annoyed and fly off the handle, because then he knows he's bothering us. I told Doug to act naturally and not let it show that he's grinding us down, but Doug just stands there and glares at him like he wants to punch him in the face. Not that he ever would like, because Brendan is well big isn't he? So Doug would never be able to beat him up or anything…
Don't tell him I said that though.
"What can I do for you today then, Brendan?" I asked, ignoring the obvious tension in the room, "an omelette? A sausage roll? What about a pizza, like yesterday? Or a jam sandwich, like the day before that?"
I smiled, sickly sweet, letting him know that he could come in every day of the God damn year if he wanted and I would still be smiling. He won't annoy me. His hold over me is gone.
I felt Doug's hand brush against mine on the counter and I knew that it was a silent urge for me to go into the back kitchen and talk to him. I ignored him though, continuing to stare the Irish man in the eye and stand my ground. I'm tired of being walked over and I'm not going to scuttle into the back room to bitch and complain about how much he is getting under my skin.
As I watched Brendan's face I saw his eyes flicker down to where Doug's hands were brushing against my own and for a moment I saw his cool, calm demeanor flicker. He watched Doug's hand trace over mine and his eyebrows lowered momentarily; the stoic glaze in his hooded eyes melting for a fraction of a second into something unreadable. Something that looked an awful lot like…
Before I could read his expression he quickly composed himself and his eyes flicked back up to meet mine. He coughed as his gaze skimmed back and forth from me to Doug, and his mouth twitched as he stroked his moustache thoughtfully with his index finger and thumb.
"Maybe I'll have a salad today, Steven, trying to watch my figure," he looked at Doug and smiled, "you know how it is Douglas, want to look good for the ladies."
"Why would you want to look good for the ladies, Brendan?" Doug replied cooly, shifting to stand beside me at the counter. Our shoulders touched and I was sure Doug could feel my body tense as his words hung in the air.
My face dropped as I looked at Brendan, waiting for him to kick off or grab Doug from over the counter and throttle him… but he didn't. Instead I watched as his mouth twitched, then suddenly his top lip peeled back over his teeth and he emitted a low, guttural laugh;
"Ha, why would I want to… that's good," he said, pointing at Doug, "thats… that's good. Good one."
Doug's face remained stoic as he slowly pulled himself away and, without another word, walked into the back kitchen. I felt myself relax as the tension slowly ebbed away, but unfortunately the main bulk of my battle wasn't over yet as I still had to deal with the mammoth task of serving Brendan and getting him out of the deli.
"Right Brendan, what kind of salad do you want?" I leant down and rested my elbows on the counter, looking up at him through a veil of lashes.
"What kind do you have?" he asked.
I could tell he was intentionally trying to be irritating.
I sighed and walked around the counter until I was right beside him, then looked up at the board of specials and quickly read them out;
"We have a Caeser salad; a chicken salad with white wine vinaigrette; a Moroccan chicken salad or -and this would be good for your diet- a Pinto Bean Salad Recipe with Avocado, Tomatoes, Red Onion, and Cilantro," I turned to him and raised an eyebrow, "what's it going to be?"
He remained completely quiet and looked at me through lowered eyelids. Suddenly I was aware that we were standing very close; closer than I previously thought we were. I tried to tell my feet to move, but I was rooted to the spot as he let his gaze drop from my eyes to my lips. Fuck.
He leaned in close and I could feel each breath in my lungs becoming more and more shallow. Fuck, what was he going to do? Why was he standing so close? Why am I not moving? Then I heard him whisper,
"You could have just told me to read the board, Steven," he smiled, "didn't need to walk yourself all the way round here to read them to me."
My tongue felt like a useless piece of rubber in my mouth. My pulse quickened and the blood flowed to my face- I felt infuriated. Cheeky git! I wanted to tell him to get out, to go bother someone else with his mind games, but I couldn't.
The customer always comes first.
So I bit my tongue, took a step away from him and walked back behind the deli counter. Customer and Server… nothing more to it.
"Suit yourself," I smiled icily, then held out my hands, palms up, and placed them on the countertop, "this better for you?"
He looked at me, expression unreadable as always. That's the thing that annoys me most about Brendan, he'd never just fess up and say what he really meant, it's all about power games and who can outwit who. Everything is a game to him. I am a game to him.
He stepped over to me and tore his hands from the pockets of his gray, Armani suit (Yeah, Armani, I know right? He told me it was Armani the night we… nevermind) then placed them flat on the counter, his fingertips almost touching my own. I didn't flinch at the proximity, just kept my eyes on him the entire time; he was trying to freak me out and it wasn't going to work. He leaned in and I heard him take a deep breath, as if inhaling me in, before he slowly pulled his hands away and stepped back. His eyes remained on the floor for a moment, as if contemplating something, then he looked me in the eye and - without skipping a beat - said,
"I'll have the chicken salad with white wine vinaigrette, but not too much white wine I'm trying to watch my alcohol intake as well," he smiled, then let the expression drop as quickly as it appeared.
"I'll make sure it's not too boozy for you, Brendan," I rolled my eyes, "you know there's not enough alcohol in it to even make you feel anything."
"I don't trust you Steven," he raised an eyebrow and let his eyes run up and down my body, "you're probably just waiting to get me drunk."
My heartbeat quickened as he stared at me, eyes never leaving mine. It wasn't funny anymore. My face dropped and I lowered my eyebrows, annoyed at him for being so damn flirtatious and annoyed at myself for still reacting to it. I internally shook myself and immediately tore my gaze from him,
"You wish, Brendan," I muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
We were silent as I prepared his salad and I was annoyed at myself for letting him get to me so much that I actually watered down the dressing on his salad to a ridiculous degree. So much so that the 'white wine' element of the vinaigrette had been erased entirely. I finally finished preparing it and walked around to the till to bill him, but when I looked up he was chatting on his phone and eating all the free samples that Doug had laid out earlier for the customers.
"Oi!" I snapped, pointing over to him, "stop eating all our crab and cream cheese crescent rolls and come pay for this!"
He stopped talking on the phone for a moment and glared over at me, then stepped up from his seat and began to walk towards me. As he walked I could hear him mutter into his phone,
"I'll call you back."
He switched off his mobile and held out his hands, his face twisted in annoyance,
"That was an important phone call, Steven, and I just had to hang up on him because why?"
"You were stuffing your face with our merchandise, all right?" I twisted up my face in annoyance, "who were you even talking to anyway, it's not like you got any friends."
"It wasn't a friend," he said, imitating my accent like a child, "besides, who I'm talking to is none of your business."
I stopped talking and angrily punched in the amount he owed for the salad into the till. Suddenly it crossed my mind that if he wasn't talking to a friend, then who was he talking to? I tried to stop myself from going down this line of thought, but I couldn't help it. Was he talking to a guy? Someone he'd been seeing? Fuck, why did I even care?
I looked up at his face and he was staring intensely at his phone, thumbs dancing over the number pad as he texted. Who was he texting? I tried to stop my glance from falling over to him, but found it harder and harder as my imagination began to spin out of control with make-believe scenarios. Suddenly I imagined him fucking some little twink in a back alley, bodies pressed together, panting , sweating, his eyes glazed over like he's seeing God.
Fuck.
"That'll be £5.95 then, please," I mumbled, angry for a reason I didn't even know.
"£5.95? Jesus," he replied, then grabbed the salad from me and intentionally brushed his fingers against mine before taking it, "put it on my tab, Steven, yeah?"
"NO TABS!" I shouted suddenly, anger finally coming to a head.
The Irishman stopped and looked at me with wide eyes; his body trapped in a momentary paralysis of shock.
"What?" he asked.
"No tabs, Brendan," I finally said, pointing a finger at him, "you pay up front, all right? I'm not going to take this shit anymore."
His eyes trailed over me and he cracked his neck, then sniffed as his top lip twitched; face masked in an unreadable stare. Slowly he walked towards me, sleek and quiet like a panther, and reached into his pocket. He looked me dead in the eye as he leafed out a ten pound note from a fold of twenties, then reached out with his free hand and, before I had time to register what he was doing, took my hand in his and placed the ten pound note into my open palm. Gently he used his fingers to press mine into a fist on it.
"Whatever you say," he whispered, still holding my gaze and my hands in his, "Steven."
He released my hands, turned around and walked out of the deli; leaving me alone with a frantically beating heart and a cold sweat on my brow. When I saw him walk up the steps to Chez Chez I let out a breath that I hadn't even realized I'd been holding and my shoulders relaxed. I slowly leaned my elbows on the counter and ran my hands down my face, holding them there and shaking my head for a reason I couldn't even explain. I didn't even know why he still got under my skin so much.
I walked into the back kitchen and saw Doug standing there with a knife, cutting up an onion and several cloves of garlic with sharp, frantic strokes. His eyebrows were knotted and he didn't even look at me as I walked in and gave him a kiss on the cheek,
"There, he's gone," I sighed, relieved.
"Yeah, you really did a good job of getting him out, didn't you?" he said, voice dripping with venom, "Just couldn't wait for him to leave, could you?"
His chopping was furious as he continued to stare at the onion, the veins in his eyes red from the acidic fumes that rose up from the thick pieces.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, but I already knew what was coming.
I'd heard it all before…
He slammed the knife down on the chopping board and leant his hands on the wooden table at either side.
"Really, Ste? Really?" his voice was raised in a little lower than a shout, "You're just going to play dumb and hope I buy it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Doug!" I said, hands out, "I just told you I got rid of him, what more can I do?"
"Ste, he was in there for forty-five minutes!" Doug said; turning around to face me with wide, blue eyes, "You're seriously saying that that was you trying to get rid of him?"
"I had to serve him, Doug, I can't help it that his order took a while!" I argued, pressing my hands to my face, annoyed with the same frigging argument over and over again, "I couldn't just kick him out, could I?"
"Yes!" Doug shouted, "that's exactly what you could have done, Ste! Kick him out, tell him he's banned or something. Don't just stand there and act all nice with him and flirt with him!"
"Flirt?!" I felt a blistering hot rush of anger spread to my cheeks, "are you fucking serious right now, Doug? I wasn't flirting, I can't stand him!"
Doug laughed, the kind of laugh lunatics laugh just before you lock them up.
"Yeah, yeah you really can't stand him," he lowered his voice, producing a mocking tone as he spat the words at me, "So what, when he leans in to smell you, that's just you being nice?"
I looked down at the ground, jaw clenched and mouth protruding in an angry pout. Had he been watching the entire time?
Doug took my silence as an invitation to continue,
"Or how about when you were jealous about who he was on the phone with, Hm?" he sneered.
I could see tears in his eyes and I couldn't convince myself it was from the onions.
I felt a spike of guilt plunge into my heart as he mentioned that word…'jealous.' Is that what I'd been when I thought Brendan was on the phone to some new guy? Jealous.
"I weren't jealous, Doug," I muttered, barely able to get the words out through the guilty lump in my throat."
"Yeah," Doug snorted out a laugh, "sure you're not. You're not jealous, you don't feel anything for him, you just hate him right?"
"… Right," I said, "I do."
"God Ste," he muttered with a sigh, but I could see he'd lost the will to argue as he turned back to the chopping board and continued to slice a half-cut wedge of onion, "you don't have a clue, do you…"
We stood in silence while Doug continued to chop up the onions into fine slices. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest as I listened to the scrape of his knife against the cutting board. All I wanted to do was grab my coat and leave. How could he think I was flirting with Brendan? How could he think that I was jealous? It's like he thought I wanted Brendan to stay.
Why the Hell would I want that?
That night it took me ages to fall asleep.
I was still fuming about my argument with Doug earlier. Before we left I tried to make it up to him and asked him if he wanted to come back to the flat, but he just gave me this look and shook his head, like he couldn't believe I was even asking. For a while he didn't answer, just busied himself by putting away tea towels and cleaning surfaces. It was well annoying!
"Doug, are you not going to answer me at least?" I asked, unable to help the hint of irritation at being ignored.
"What do you want me to say, Ste?" he replied, continuing to scrub the glass counter of the deli.
"Well, for a start you could say 'yes' or 'no.' I just asked you if you wanted to come over to mine? Amy and the kids will be away 'til late, so we'll have the place to ourselves," I grinned, trying to make it up to him for whatever I'd done wrong earlier.
"Look Ste, I appreciate the offer but I don't think so," he sighed, looking me in the eyes for a moment, "I just think we need tonight for ourselves, just to think about stuff."
I looked at him and my stomach dropped.
"… What kind of stuff?" I asked, voice low.
"I don't know," he sighed, letting his hands fall by his sides as if in defeat, "Us, our relationship, ya know? Just stuff."
"… Are you saying you want to break up with me?" I asked, head down, wary of the answer.
"God, no Ste, that's not what I want," he muttered, eyes big and blue and tired, "is that what you want?"
"No," I mumbled, shrugging my shoulders, "I don't know why you're doing this."
"You don't?" he raised his eyebrows, shock and anger on his face, "Ste, you can't be serious."
"What, is this about Brendan?" I asked.
"Everything is about Brendan, Ste!" he yelled, throwing his polishing rag on the floor, "I feel like I can't get away from him, and every time I look at you I…"
He trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks. He stared straight at me, as if expecting me to just figure it out by myself. Problem is I couldn't, right! I didn't know what he was on about. So I shook my head in confusion and lowered my eyebrows,
"Every time you look at me, what?" I asked.
He opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but then suddenly closed it again and tore his eyes from me. He walked over to the coat rack and picked up his black duffel coat, slipping it on over his uniform.
"Nothing," he replied, walking up to me and kissing me lightly on the lips, "I'm just tired, that's all. See you in the morning."
Now I'm lying here, thinking of all the things he said, and I can't sleep.
Amy came back with the kids at about ten o'clock and called out for me, but I didn't answer. I didn't want to tell her about what happened today with Doug and Brendan, because I knew she'd just read way too much into it and tell me to ban Brendan or have a word with him about not coming into the deli so much. I swear, am I the only one who knows anything about business? You don't tell paying customers to leave, right? It's just called being savvy.
I rolled over and closed my eyes, teeth clenched and jaw set, and I was convinced I'd never get a wink of sleep.
Ten minutes later I was out cold.
I woke up at five in the morning to the sound of Amy's voice ringing in my ears, tearing me away from my dreams and back into reality. I mumbled something, then turned and opened my eyes to see her dressed in teddy bear pyjamas and standing in my doorway. She had her arms folded and was giving me this look, like I'd just done something particularly terrible and she was not one bit happy about it.
"Amy," I mumbled, wiping the sleep from my eyes, "what you doing?"
"I came to see what was the matter," she said, eyes fixed on me in a cold stare, "you woke me up."
"I did?" I turned around to look at the bedside clock, then turned back, "sorry. How did I wake you?"
"You were sleep-talking, Ste," she said.
I tried to remember what I'd been dreaming about and immediately my blood ran cold as memories flashed in front of me, as vivid and real as anything I'd ever dreamt before.
I was in an alley, somewhere unfamiliar that I couldn't recognize, though in my dream it was an alley directly behind Chez Chez. I was waiting for someone, but I didn't know who. After what seemed like an eternity I heard someone approach me and I quickly turned to face the stranger. I found myself looking into two cobalt blue eyes, fixed in a face of pure white, with coal black hair and a retro horseshoe moustache…
Brendan.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him angrily, "I'm supposed to be meeting someone."
He looked at me intensely, his gaze never faltering, then raised his thumb to lick off what appeared to be frosting. He stepped forward, slowly, and suddenly I felt trapped. My heart was pounding, blood rushing to every part of me, and my face felt red hot as his eyes trailed over my entire body shamelessly. He didn't care if I knew he was looking… he liked it.
"You asked to meet me," he held up his phone and let me read the message on it, "See, it says 'Meet me in the alley, Brendan.'"
"I never wrote that," I shook my head, but the message said it was from me, "I never."
"Oh… but you did, Steven," He placed the tips of his fingers on my chest and gently pushed my back until I was pressed against the wall, "You did."
"I never…" I whispered, becoming less convinced of the truth of my own words, "I don't remember."
"You wanted to meet me here," he mumbled, chest pressed to mine, "You wanted it."
I shook my head, limbs shaking as he stepped closer to me until his chest was against mine. My whole body tingled as I could feel every part of him brushing me, only a hair's width between us as we stood alone in the alley.
"I don't…" I shook my head slowly, and I desperately tried not to make eye contact.
He raised one finger, pressed it to my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. His lips were so close to mine I could feel his warm breath on my face; it smelt like strawberry frosting. I slowly licked my lips and looked up into his eyes, then he leaned in close until his moustache brushed my ear and whispered,
"You do."
With that I felt my breath leave my body in a rush. I placed my hands around the back of his neck and pulled his lips hard to mine, heaving our bodies together in a fierce embrace . I immediately opened my mouth to him, eager to taste him again after what felt like an eternity. I could feel his hands move across my body, touching me in places that only he knew could drive me crazy. I moaned against him as his hands found their way up my shirt and played with my nipples, squeezing them and pinching them as he kissed the tender spot on my neck.
"Steven," he mumbled, lips pressed against my skin, "touch me."
Fuck, he knew what to say to make me want him.
"Jesus," I hissed, hands trailing through his hair, "What the Hell am I doing?"
"It's OK, Steven," he pulled up and looked into my eyes, then whispered, "It's OK to want it."
I sighed and let my head fall back against the red bricks and at that moment I surrendered to him.
He dropped to his knees and started to untie the loose knot of my Tracksuit bottoms. Slowly he peeled the fabric from my hips and I felt my stiff cock spring up from the fabric. I looked down and caught the first glimpse of him just as he leaned in and took me in his mouth; the soft, warm feel of his tongue against me overwhelmed me and before I could stop myself I gasped out his name,
"Brendan."
He stood up and pinned my hands against the wall, told me to keep them there, then grabbed my thighs in his strong hands and hoisted me up until my legs were encircled around his waist. Before I knew what was happening I could feel him inside me, pounding me, making every nerve in my body tingle as he hit my sweet spot. Suddenly I realized we were both undressed, drenched with sweat, fucking in an alley where anyone could walk by at any moment…
"Brendan!"
I didn't give a fuck.
"Brendan…"
As I squeezed my eyes shut and let him pound me up against the wall I was vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps heading towards us. I felt Brendan's lips brush my neck and then the tickle of his moustache at my ear as he leaned in close and whispered,
"Party's over…"
I heard a familiar voice calling my name…
"Ste?"
It was a girl…
"Ste!"
Amy?
At that moment I opened my eyes and there was Amy at the door, arms folded, face like a slapped ass.
I looked up at her, hoping beyond all reasonable forms of hope that she may not have heard much.
"W-what was I saying?" I asked, face the picture of innocence.
"You weren't saying anything," she said bitterly, "more like moaning and groaning, if you ask me."
I slapped a hand to my forehead and grabbed a pillow, forcing it over my face.
Kill me now.
"What did I say?" I asked, voice muffled by the pillow pressed against my lips.
I felt Amy's hand on mine as she pulled the pillow from me, face the picture of seriousness.
"You were saying his name, Ste…" she said, voice low and concerned.
"… Whose?" I asked, trying to play ignorant.
She rolled her eyes and sat down beside me.
"You know who, Ste, don't play dumb."
I sighed and pressed my hands against my face, ashamed to look at her.
"I know…" I said.
"But why?" she asked.
I tore my hands from my face and threw them out, annoyed and frustrated,
"Well I can't control my dreams, Amy, Can I?" I exclaimed.
"Well you must have been thinking about him!" she replied angrily, "have you been thinking about him like that?"
I looked away from her at the corner of the room, eyebrows knotted in anger and legs pulled up to my chin as I rested it in the crook.
"No…" I mumbled, "It's just… me and Doug had a fight today… about him."
"What?" She sounded annoyed, "again? Ste, this is like the fifth time!"
"I know! But he's doing my head in, Amy," I held out a hand imploringly to her, asking her to understand, "he accused me of flirting with him, for God's sake. Accused me of being jealous!"
"Why would he accuse you of that?" she asked, voice rising and falling as she tried to understand, "what's there to be jealous of?"
I was silent for a moment, shaking my head at this mess of a predicament I'd found myself in.
"I don't know, right?" I said, then tried to explain, "Brendan was in the deli again today, as usual, and he was texting on his phone and Doug must have thought I was jealous or something," I rolled my eyes, "I only asked who he was talking to! He's got no friends, does he?" I mumbled, then added in a whisper, "I don't know who he could have been talking to."
I glared and continued to stare at a spot on the floor, waiting for Amy to back me up…
I soon looked up after a minute of her saying nothing.
"Hello, you still 'ere?" I asked, irritated.
I shut up as I looked at her face, which had dropped; her mouth opened as she held a hand to it. Like she'd just seen a fucking ghost.
"Oh my God," she whispered, hand falling to her chest, "you are jealous."
"What!" I raised my eyebrows and opened my mouth, "Jesus Christ, not you too!"
"Ste, it's totally obvious," she said, shaking her head at me, "I'm serious. I know you better than anyone, Ste, you were jealous that Brendan was talking to some… some… toyboy . Some new you!"
"Stop it!" I hissed, turning around to face her, "I was not jealous, OK? I don't even know who he was talking to, right? It could have been anybody!"
"That's not the point, Ste," she shook her head, "the point is you still care."
"I Don't, Amy!" I felt my fists clench.
"Ste, just admit it!"
"SHUT UP!" I finally cracked, hitting my fist into the bed, "I don't, OK!"
She was quiet. Her eyes scanned over me as her mouth dropped and hands fell to her sides. I turned from her, cheeks burning, upset I'd raised my voice to her. She was just annoying me. They all were.
"I'm not jealous, right?" I mumbled, shaking my head, "I can't stand him."
Amy closed her eyes and shook her head at me, then put a hand on my shoulder,
"Oh Ste," she whispered, "you don't have a clue, do you…"
With that she stood up and left me alone in the dark, legs pulled to my chest, thinking. After an hour of sitting in silence I finally unfolded myself, lay down and went to sleep; all the while her words repeated like a merry-go-round in my head;
'You still care…you still care…'