Re writing thus if and it will be completed I've used an accumulation of Hollyoaks characters from through out the years, drawing from different story lines.
I'm no writer so bear with me. Reviews and constructive criticism will be appreciated.
Mitzeee, the "girlfriend" has a way of talking me into things that I really do not want to do. As I stand naked, accessing myself in the bathroom mirror I cannot believe I'm letting her drag me out - to a student house party no less - when I should be working. So I'm running late on purpose, in protest. Fortunately, my pre-night out routine is proficiently fast. I know not to leave her alone for too long, looking like a mug that's been stood up. I'd never hear the end of it.
Not much of a protest.
So I get to it. Shower. Shave and then groom the moustache. Brush teeth. Get dressed, trading my usual sharp suit for jeans and a fitted black short sleeve t-shirt. Aftershave. I spend more time working gel into my hair than you could ever get me to admit. It's been less than 20 minutes, one more glance in the mirror and I'm ready to set off.
As I walk down the stairs that's when I see her, the thorn in my side, sat at my breakfast bar slurping a glass of white wine. I don't know how to explain our arrangement, because I honestly don't know how I let myself end up in yet another farce of a relationship. Nonetheless, this tiny bossy woman has managed to insert herself into my life and while I'd never tell her, she's crept into my heart over the summer. The relationship we portrayed to the world was completely contrived, one of her creation and on that I was basically blackmailed into, but now looking at her I realise she's the only person I've got in this village.
"You're here? I thought I was meeting you there?" I ask.
"What, and trust you to make your way there, completely unsupervised? I half expected to find this place empty, you over the road locked in your office."
She smiles handing me a glass of whiskey.
"When I got here to find you in the shower, I thought I'd be waiting all night. I know what your lot is like in front of a mirror with all your products, but you were surprisingly fast." She jokes, giving me a knowing smirk.
"You're not even dressed Mitz." I lazily protest, noticing her purple velour tracksuit.
"I'm in need of a...refined eye." I can tell she's choosing her words very carefully to give just enough cheek.
"I've got a couple of dresses and need your expertise." She explains, giving me a butter wouldn't melt smile.
Anyone else, and this shit would not fly. "Why make such an effort for a scuzzy Student house party? It's not like you're going to get papped. "
"Every situation is a chance to make an impression. I want to be remembered and talked about. Hence my three step plan." She puts an emphasis on each word, accompanied by spirit fingers.
"Go with the pink dress, the black one washes you out and doesn't go with your lipstick or shoes." I jest, putting on a camp voice. "Three step plan?" I ask, trying to ignore her state of undress.
I don't think I'll ever get used to the ease and comfort this woman has undressing in my presences.
"One, look drop dead gorgeous in this designer dress, you were kind enough to buy for me."
"W...what?" I take note to keep a better eye on my credit cards.
"Thanks babes." She continues swiftly "Two, turn up with a hunky Irishman on my arm. Three, do something that no one will ever forget, convenient thing about Uni students is they tweet and video vine and Instagram. I can see it now hastag Mitzeee. I'm ready!" She purrs, clicking her heels and twirling for me.
Sometimes, not being that way inclined I over look her beauty. Mitzeee is a 20-year-old aspiring model with thick wavy brown locks, big brown sparkling Bambi eyes and a body with curves that would drive most red-blooded men wild. At only 5 foot 3 her bubbly but commanding personality makes up for her lack in inches. She moved to the village just before myself, on the quest of archiving WAG status through her latest footballer conquest, Carl Costello. Who just happened to be her cousin's husband, merciless. But it's Anne that gets me, the girl behind the persona. She is actually quite intelligent under the glitz and glam, loyal and easy for me to talk to. Anne Minniver is a motivated young woman with dreams of a better life. Albeit, she seeks the privileged and pampered lifestyle of the rich and famous, but I admired her ruthless and driven ways.
"Devine." I smile sincerely for the first time.
"Dutch courage." She must have seen the unrest on my face because she refilling my glass.
"Mitzeee, why don't I take you out for an over priced meal and we can hit one of the bars in Leeds?" I try and persuade her, but she doesn't look convinced.
"Is the big bad, crazy Irishman scared of a few college students?" She says in a hushed tone, despite the fact that we're alone.
"I'm too old for this shit, Anne."
"Brendan Brady." She soothes, placing her hands on my uppers arms. "You're only 25, you need to get out more babes, since buying the club you've been all work, you need to learn to relax. Maybe get some twink tail?" Seeing the doubt in my eye she tries a different approach. "Anyway, seeing the beautiful faces behind the new club is a fantastic was to drum up business for Chez Chez and students are good for flexible, minimum wage workers."
"Faces...?"
Before I can question where exactly Mitzeee, the wannabe WAG fits into the running of my business she is dragging me out the door.
{~}
We make our way, Mitzeee blabbering on about an upcoming shoot. My participation isn't actually required in this conversation and so my mind drift to what it always does when I get lost in the dark recesses of my mind. I think over the events of the last few months. My wife, Eileen had caught me kissing her cousin, Macca. Which evidently, did not go down too well, leading to my relocation to Leeds and eventually putting down roots here in Hollyoaks. My deceit over my sexuality had meant I had to leave behind my life, the city I grew up in, everything and everyone I knew but most importantly my son, Declan. After months of working for Danny Houston, a Leeds based gangster type, along with my savings I was able to by a club in this little village, to support my family back home.
Big fish small pond type thing, but it's working for me so far.
I think back to Mitzeee's recommendation to pick up some 'twink tail' tonight. I guess she had noticed that I'd gone home alone every night for the last week or so. I've made the decision to stop sleeping around. I'm not sure what I want, obviously not a woman, but all these one-night stands leave me feel ... i don't know. Guy after guy had made the walk of shame from my flat, after being kicked out in the early hours of the morning, leaving me with no choice but to finally come to turns with my sexuality. I'm gay, I can admit that the to myself doesn't I'm ready to come out to the world.
"Brendan!" Mitzeee calls, interrupting my thoughts. "So I can use the club for my winter trends shoot?"
"No." I snort, who does she think I am?
"Fine. Whatever, we're here." She barks, storming into house.
I hadn't noticed our surrounds before, but I'm stood on the pavement in front of a house I recognise. I'd be here before when looking for a place to live. I realise now that this is not a student house, most last likely it's been broken into for the occasion. At this point I also notice a group of drunken teenager sat on the brick wall. They're local teens, I don't think are old enough to be students from the college. A wafer thin girl, necking a boy who would not look out of place in an indie band owing to his long unkempt hair. A blond that I know to be one of the McQueen's, downing white lightning. Finally, a scally sat a little further along the wall catches my eye, he's not interacting with the others and is lost in his own thoughts. The lad is so young but seems to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, I can't help but wonder what's going on behind those pretty blue eyes. I shake my head to dislodge the thoughts and walk into the house despite my reservations.
Half the village must be here, college students mostly, a few older people in their mid to late twenties and a handful of younger teenagers looking to get drunk, all celebrating the end of summer. I spot Mitzeee schmoozing a group of lads, it's better just to leave her to it so I set off in search of a drink.
After finding a bottle of lukewarm beer, I take Mitzeee's advice and relax a little, joining a conversation with Darren Osbourne, Rhys Ashworth and Gilly something or other, three local lads. After 15 excruciatingly long minuets I have deduction that Darren is a moron, Rhys is up himself and deludedly so, while Gilly as no original thought processes separate from Rhys'. I receive a text from Mitzeee, demanding my company in the kitchen so I quickly make my excuses and leave.
Heading to my unlikely salvation in the kitchen I see a bottle of Jack Daniels in my periphery on the stairs. It's not my whiskey of choice but its better than the beer I've been nursing, and if I'm going to suffer through this party I'll need something a little stronger. So I claim it as my own.
Already half way up the stairs I decided I might as well use the toilet. I hadn't anticipated the queue that lay before me. I guess cheap booze just passes right through the youth of today.
To: Anne
In the line to take a leak, I'll be with you shortly m'lady.
After a few minutes it dawns on me that the master bedroom has an en-suite, whiskey in hand I depart the ever growing but never moving line. Luckily the room is empty, I head to the bathroom, undo my jeans and let the fountain flow so to speak. Shaking myself off, I hear a shuffle from behind me.
It's the scally from outside, he'd been hiding in the bathtub.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Getting sloshed in a bath, alone, so move along."
Cheeky little fucker.
"Hmm, because it seems to me like you're hiding out it bathroom, perving on people."
He's standing now, right in my face. I'm taken back by his confidence, I pride myself on the fact that most people find me intimidating and would try to avoid a confrontation.
"Me the perve?" He chuckles "I saw you giving me the eye out side and then again in the front room when you were talking to Josh's brother."
Did he just accuse me of pursuing him? I hadn't, I'm a people watcher, I was just curious. He stood out from the other stereotypical partygoer, there was a something almost condemned about him, it intrigued me. That's all.
"Really?" I say, raising an eyebrow.
In a situation where my sexuality comes into question, I'd invade the individual's personal space, grab them by their shirt and use my most menacing, crazy Irishman routine to threaten them. My hand out stretched between us, I hesitate for a second, looking directly into those blue eyes of his, I could see it now. Sorrow.
"You now what." I say deciding to let him be. "Your. Not. Worth. It." I stab my index finger into his chest with every word, making sure not to let down the bravado that is Brendan Brady.
I turn on my heels and head towards the door.
"Look, mate, sorry. I'm just being a tosser, right. Not having a great night, so I took it out on you."
"It's fine." I say not turning around.
"Your J.D." He says while step at of the tub to hand me my whiskey from the window ledge where I'd placed it earlier.
I know I'm going to regret it as soon as I opened my mouth, but I can't help myself. "Want to share? I'll end up downing the lot and my liver won't thank me for it."
He smiles, his whole face lights up. "Yeah, sure." He grabs the bottle from my grasp and heads for the bedroom.
He's sat on the floor by the foot of the bed, knees bent with chin resting on one. His face contorts at his first swig of the bottle. I sit down beside him, resting my head back on the bed. We sit in silence passing the bottle between us, and it's nice to just sit and be. The tump-a-tump-a of the music below us.
After a while the effects of the alcohol creeps over every cell in my body, losing my restraint I look over at him. I take in every aspect of the boys appearance, soaking him up. He's wearing a blue polo shirt with the collar popped up and trackie bottoms. He's got a pair of old white trainers on, the laces are new or recently washed and I can tell that he's taken the time to clean off mud stains, but the soles are due to fall off any day now. He has light brown hair or dirty blond I guess, in a floppy haircut that I'm sure hasn't changed since he was ten. Pouty lips, high cheekbones and a nose that flicks up in a way that I can't help but find cute, in my current state. He's sporting a summer tan, I look down at my own pale arms, and in comparison I realise just how much time I've spent hiding indoors at work. I take in his scent, an odd mix of men's deodorant and what I assume is some sort of a citrus flavoured shower gel, I like it. A lot.
He looks over at me, and we make eye contact. I take in his blue eyes again, only now seeing the long, sweeping, eyelashes that frame them. We've been looking into each other's eyes for longer than anyone would deem normal. It's awkward.
"You said you were having a bad night?" I ask, laying my head back onto the bed to stare at the ceiling.
He mirrors my actions. "Me mate Amy invited me out, said we deserved a night off. But she's buggered off back to our flat with her fella. Leaving me with Michaela, who I can't stand. So I'm left hanging out in the bathtub at a party I didn't want to go to and I can't even go home because I don't want to listen to 'em going at it."
"The grave problems that plague the teenage existence." I mock.
"You know what? You know nowt about me and my problems." He shouts getting fired up.
"Enlighten me, why don't you."
"I have two kids to feed and clothe, rent and bills which need paying but with hardly any qualification and a criminal record people aren't exactly falling other themselves to give me a job." He rants. "And then there's Tony, he took me under his wing gave me a job, helped me with me cooking. The last few weeks he's been really cagey, I think he's building up to fire me and I don't even know why. I only work part time as it is, how will we cope if I lose me job?"
"Hmm." I reply with an incoherent grunt, feeling like an arrogant ass. "How old are your kids?"
"Leah is almost three and Lucas is five months old. I love them both so much, but what if I can't give them the lives they deserve? I stay up some nights worrying about bills and rent and money for nappies and formula. I don't now we're going to cope over the winter, the amount it costs to have the heating on."
So he does have the weight of the world on his shoulders. Kids and a home finance is a lot to handle at such a young age, but he isn't shying away from his responsibilities.
"What they deserve is a dad that is there for'em, that tries his best. Someone they know will be there everyday when they wake up in the morning. You're a good lad. I know how hard it is to be a young dad, but you'll make it through. It's not going to be easy, but it's worth it. One hundred percent. You know what, if you weren't worried, terrified even, then you'd have a problem. It's good to be cautious because you'll nerve be blind sighted."
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not judging me." He says, rolling his head over in my direction. "...and believing in me, especially after finding me getting drunk in the bath. When I'm out with the kids, I see the looks strangers in the street give us and I hear them talk. I'm pre-judged. And the people that know me, know every wrong thing I've done won't let me forget the me mistakes. But not Ames, she always there for me."
"I'm in no position to judge." I say quietly, also rolling my head over to look at him. "Eight months ago I destroyed six years of marriage, a family, my family, packed a bag and I just left, because I couldn't face up to who I was, am. Haven't seen my kid since." I share more than I had intending.
I can tell that I must be very drunk, because I'm opening up to a teenager. We're staring at each, again. I wonder what his lips feel like?
"We, we should get back to the party." I mumble while getting to my feet.
"I should probably just go home, me. Sleep this off, wake up early in the morning and ask Tony about me job, don't wanna get blind sighted."
There it is again, that smile, it's infectious, I have a grin on my face to match. He stretches out his arm for a hand up, so I oblige. In my drunken haze I tug a little hard, stumbling to the ground with him on top of me. We both irrupt into laughter, amused by our drunken state. The laughing trails off and I can hear his heavy breathing and I can feel our hand still clasped together in between our bodies. He's looking down at me now, still unmoved. It isn't at all awkward, but the moment is pregnant with anticipation.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but what? Suddenly his lips are pressed against mine. To answer my earlier question, they're plump and soft but rough on the surface. I leT myself indulge, just for a second before remembering my determination to put an end to my summer of one-night stands, so pull away.
"Ummmmm." I stretch out the word, still unable to form a sentence. What is going on with me?
"I've got this wrong?" He askes.
Still nothing from me. I cover my forehead with my free hand, maybe I'm burning up. No? I close my eyes in an attempt to compose myself.
"Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I thought you... that we... I should... please don't-" He sighs standing up, finally releasing my hand. "Sorry." He whispers while making his escape for the door.
Before I do what I'm about to, I tell myself this isn't going back on my decision. If I'm to go cold turkey until I sort out this gay thing I might as well end the summer on a high. Maybe it's the alcohol because his rambling is cute and endearing. Or, maybe I'm taking pity on him, he looks absolutely mortified, I can't just let him go thinking it was just him, right? So, I grab him by the arm, close the door and push him up against it. I rest my hands on the door, trapping him and then I lean in.