Chapter Four
His head felt like it was going to explode. His mouth was dry, tasted like an old gym sock. The thin shirt he was wearing felt heavy and hot, too constricting. His eyes were swollen and the voices of his roommates echoed in his ears painfully.
"I think he's dead," Ray muttered.
"Stupid git, he's breathing," Malcolm replied.
"Shh! He's coming too," Billy whispered.
He forced his eyes to open. Four hazy shapes stared down at him. He blinked and the lines of their faces cleared. "What happened?" He tried to sit up and was hit with a mind-numbing jolt of pain. He finally did manage to drag himself into a somewhat vertical position and stared at the young men gathered around him with bleary eyes.
"So I take it you've never thrown back half a bottle of tequila," Malcolm replied, passing him a cup.
"No." Arthur took a sip of the sweet tea. It burned as it went down his throat and he cringed.
The novelty of a hung over roommate faded a few minutes later and Pearl, Billy, and Ray disappeared into the living room. Malcolm remained, sitting on Arthur's bed, legs crossed. "You have to be careful. If we weren't there, you might've woken up hurting in a whole other place."
Arthur flushed. "I'm sure he wouldn't-"
"Yes, he would. You're not in the suburbs anymore, Arthur."
"I know."
Malcolm stood and stepped off the bed. "Get dressed and come on."
"Where are we going?" Arthur asked, standing. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he followed Malcolm into the living room, where the rest of the Creatures were sprawled on the couch, waiting.
"Lunch."
*
When Arthur was nine, his family had gone to London for Christmas. It had been magical- except for the time that Ryan had tripped him and sent him flying into a bearded Santa and then to the muddy ground. But the London that the Creatures showed him was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Painted figures with wildly colored hair hung out on street corners, laughing freely and blowing kisses to each other. Arthur felt at once intensely out of place and right at home. It was an odd feeling to say the least.
Malcolm led them to a dingy corner. The outside walls were plastered with posters of various musicians, from Brian Slade to Lou Reed and a couple faded ones of the Beatles. The sign above the door proclaimed it as Shore Records in muted blue.
"You eat at the record store?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed.
"No. Gotta buy something first and see what's left over," Malcolm replied, swinging the door open.
The five young men that piled inside were the only customers in the small store. Arthur's head swiveled to take in all the rows of records. From the wall, a huge poster of Curt Wild and Jack Fairy stared down at him and a life-size display of Brian Slade seemed to glare at the two expatriates from across the room.
Malcolm moved toward the register with a smile, leaving his friends to paw over the records. The girl at the counter was sorting through a pile of records that reached nearly to the top of her head. When she saw Malcolm, she moved away from the records and cocked a dark brow at him, placing a manicured hand on her denim clad hip. "So, Gina, how's the Wild/Fairy album selling?"
She tossed her blue-black curls. "It's gone. So much for theories that Curt Wild wouldn't sell without Brian Slade at his side."
"Never believed 'em," Malcolm said and grinned. "So, when you say it's gone…"
"I mean its gone. Every copy bought." She paused then smiled, "Except this one." With a flourish, she produced a record and winked at Malcolm. "Did you think I'd forget?"
"Thanks!" Malcolm snatched it out of her hands.
"You have to pay me for that, you know," she admonished, holding out her hand.
He surrendered the money and smiled. "Thanks, Gina."
"Not a problem," she replied, then leaned in and spoke softly, "Mal, you know Mom would love it if you'd call sometime."
Malcolm shrugged and straightened, smile fading. "Yeah, well, tell her I say hi."
He turned away and brushed past Ray and Arthur without saying goodbye. They all turned to hurry after him, Billy calling over his shoulder to Gina, "I'll talk to him."
Malcolm stopped a few steps away from the record store and forced a smile onto his pale face. "So, we've got like five pounds left. Who wants fish and chips?"
"Mal-"
He gave Billy a look that should have silenced him. "I don't want to talk about it."
"But-"
"I said I don't wanna talk about it!" he repeated. Then he shoved a small wad of bills at Billy. "I'll see you later."
"Where are you going?" Pearl called to Malcolm's retreating back.
"I don't know!" he shouted back to them without turning.
Ray turned to Billy and Pearl after Malcolm had disappeared around the corner. He sighed deeply and shrugged. "That went well."
His head felt like it was going to explode. His mouth was dry, tasted like an old gym sock. The thin shirt he was wearing felt heavy and hot, too constricting. His eyes were swollen and the voices of his roommates echoed in his ears painfully.
"I think he's dead," Ray muttered.
"Stupid git, he's breathing," Malcolm replied.
"Shh! He's coming too," Billy whispered.
He forced his eyes to open. Four hazy shapes stared down at him. He blinked and the lines of their faces cleared. "What happened?" He tried to sit up and was hit with a mind-numbing jolt of pain. He finally did manage to drag himself into a somewhat vertical position and stared at the young men gathered around him with bleary eyes.
"So I take it you've never thrown back half a bottle of tequila," Malcolm replied, passing him a cup.
"No." Arthur took a sip of the sweet tea. It burned as it went down his throat and he cringed.
The novelty of a hung over roommate faded a few minutes later and Pearl, Billy, and Ray disappeared into the living room. Malcolm remained, sitting on Arthur's bed, legs crossed. "You have to be careful. If we weren't there, you might've woken up hurting in a whole other place."
Arthur flushed. "I'm sure he wouldn't-"
"Yes, he would. You're not in the suburbs anymore, Arthur."
"I know."
Malcolm stood and stepped off the bed. "Get dressed and come on."
"Where are we going?" Arthur asked, standing. As soon as the room stopped spinning, he followed Malcolm into the living room, where the rest of the Creatures were sprawled on the couch, waiting.
"Lunch."
*
When Arthur was nine, his family had gone to London for Christmas. It had been magical- except for the time that Ryan had tripped him and sent him flying into a bearded Santa and then to the muddy ground. But the London that the Creatures showed him was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Painted figures with wildly colored hair hung out on street corners, laughing freely and blowing kisses to each other. Arthur felt at once intensely out of place and right at home. It was an odd feeling to say the least.
Malcolm led them to a dingy corner. The outside walls were plastered with posters of various musicians, from Brian Slade to Lou Reed and a couple faded ones of the Beatles. The sign above the door proclaimed it as Shore Records in muted blue.
"You eat at the record store?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed.
"No. Gotta buy something first and see what's left over," Malcolm replied, swinging the door open.
The five young men that piled inside were the only customers in the small store. Arthur's head swiveled to take in all the rows of records. From the wall, a huge poster of Curt Wild and Jack Fairy stared down at him and a life-size display of Brian Slade seemed to glare at the two expatriates from across the room.
Malcolm moved toward the register with a smile, leaving his friends to paw over the records. The girl at the counter was sorting through a pile of records that reached nearly to the top of her head. When she saw Malcolm, she moved away from the records and cocked a dark brow at him, placing a manicured hand on her denim clad hip. "So, Gina, how's the Wild/Fairy album selling?"
She tossed her blue-black curls. "It's gone. So much for theories that Curt Wild wouldn't sell without Brian Slade at his side."
"Never believed 'em," Malcolm said and grinned. "So, when you say it's gone…"
"I mean its gone. Every copy bought." She paused then smiled, "Except this one." With a flourish, she produced a record and winked at Malcolm. "Did you think I'd forget?"
"Thanks!" Malcolm snatched it out of her hands.
"You have to pay me for that, you know," she admonished, holding out her hand.
He surrendered the money and smiled. "Thanks, Gina."
"Not a problem," she replied, then leaned in and spoke softly, "Mal, you know Mom would love it if you'd call sometime."
Malcolm shrugged and straightened, smile fading. "Yeah, well, tell her I say hi."
He turned away and brushed past Ray and Arthur without saying goodbye. They all turned to hurry after him, Billy calling over his shoulder to Gina, "I'll talk to him."
Malcolm stopped a few steps away from the record store and forced a smile onto his pale face. "So, we've got like five pounds left. Who wants fish and chips?"
"Mal-"
He gave Billy a look that should have silenced him. "I don't want to talk about it."
"But-"
"I said I don't wanna talk about it!" he repeated. Then he shoved a small wad of bills at Billy. "I'll see you later."
"Where are you going?" Pearl called to Malcolm's retreating back.
"I don't know!" he shouted back to them without turning.
Ray turned to Billy and Pearl after Malcolm had disappeared around the corner. He sighed deeply and shrugged. "That went well."