I slide out of bed, careful not to wake Lace, and fumble about in the dark for my jeans. I find my phone in there, it’s ten past two in the morning and I feel restless. I shove my jeans on and get a clean T-shirt from the drawer before slipping out of the room and heading down the stairs.
I intend to go straight for the car but the light’s on in the sitting room, and I see my dad on the sofa, a beer in his hand and the boxing on the TV.
“That you, son?” he shouts from his seat, not turning around.
“Aye. Can’t sleep, going for a drive,” I tell him. I need to go and get Lacey her uniform. Whether or not she’ll need it tomorrow is something I’ve not yet decided, suppose it’ll depend on her attitude when she wakes up. I’ve fallen for her I’ll fuck you tonight and drop you in the morning before, and I won’t let her fool me twice.
“Come in. Take a look at this for a knockout,” he says, picking up the controls and hitting rewind. He presses play and I take a seat on the other side of the couch. “You wanting a can?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
He nods and grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. I watch the hit that deals the final blow, and he was right, it’s impressive. It makes me uncomfortable but I don’t look away.
He’d scramble me alive if he caught me looking away.
“Fucking waste, you know that, eh? You could have been professional by now. You’re better than half of these pricks,” he tells me, pointing the controls in their general direction.
I shrug. “I could have my license back by the winter if I could be arsed with finishing the community service.”
“How much you got left?” he asks.
I shrug. “Dunno… maybe like eighty hours.”
He puts the can to his mouth and finishes it off before crushing it in his hands. “And the anger management course or sessions or whatever they were?”
“Och, Scoot made his dad get that added in for a joke. I’ve told him to make sure he gets it wiped.”
My dad laughs, which is unusual for him. “You might have learned something there.”
“I’d manage my anger better if people managed to not fuck me off,” I tell him.
He chuckles and goes back to watching the boxing. “I want you back in that gym, son. I’ll speak to Andy about getting the sentence wiped.”
Andy already got the sentence reduced, it could have been a lot worse. I don’t tell him that I’ve no real interest in getting back into it, because that would be pointless and he’d want to know why.
I get up from the sofa thinking we’re done, but my dad stops me.
“Where’s the girl?” he asks, opening up another can.
“Her name is Lacey,” I correct him, even though he knows it. I turn back around so we’re facing each other. “She’s in my room, sleeping.”
He nods at me. “And do I get to meet her? Or were you planning on doing that after you gave her our last name?”
I shrug. “Meet her if it makes you feel better, but understand, Da, she’ll be part of this family as much as the rest of us and I have no intention of treating her the way you treat my mum.”
The corners of his lips perk up in a smile and he looks away from me and watches the TV again. “Nothing to worry about from me, son. I like this lassie already. She’s clearly ripped you a new backbone.”
Chapter 7
LACEY
“Wakey wakey, Lacey Lacey.”
Fuck off.
I don’t say that, but I want to.
“Come on, get up lassie.”
He does a few claps and I roll over and look at him. He’s in his uniform, which for him is jet black smart jeans and a white shirt. Are we going to school today?
“What time is it?” I ask him.
“Time for you to be getting up. Here, drink this,” he says, holding out a mug for me.
I sit up and bed and take it off him. The smell of coffee has my powder-mouth elated, but I take a drink and almost spit it right back out. I would have, if I wasn’t so thirsty. My nose wrinkles and I feel myself frowning, can’t help it.
“How many spoons of coffee did you put in this?”
Shaun shrugs, busying himself in the corner of the room doing who knows what. “Dunno, three maybe? I just poured it straight from the jar. How many do you take?”
I shake my head at him. “Not three, anyway.”
“Noted.” He turns around and watches me while he rolls his sleeves up and puts his watch on. “Did you find your answer at the tip of an orgasm last night then?”
I look down at the coffee cup. “No.”
“No?”
“Not a no, and still not a yes,” I tell him.
“You tease.” He picks up a bag from the floor and puts it down on the bed at my feet. My school bag.
“You’re letting me go to school?” I say, raising my eyebrows.
His face changes to a smirk and he stands at the end of the bed. “You prefer the basement, darlin?” He leans over and puts his hand under the cover, trailing along the bottom of the mattress until he finds my foot and grabs my ankle. “You missing your chain? There would be time for a quick session if you skip the 45 minute shower this morning?”
“Fuck off!” I chuckle, jerking my leg away from him and instantly shitting myself when the mug in my hand takes the impact. “I’ve got piping hot coffee!”
“Well, get it drunk and get yourself dressed and get your arse downstairs. Your clothes are on the chair,” he says, turning away and heading for the door.
He leaves the room and I try another drink but I honestly can’t even… It’s awful.
I get up out of bed and take a stretch. His room smells like him. Kind of like a mix of deodorant and aftershave and sweat and sex. It’s not unpleasant, it’s just potent as fuck.
I walk around the bed and open up the window to let some air in.
I wasn’t paying much attention yesterday, for obvious reasons, but his room is about what you’d expect for a teenage boy. Mostly everything is grey, or black, or white. Grey walls, black covers. The only colour comes from the green and orange of a football scarf that’s hanging down with his curtains.
Its clean though, and pretty tidy. Tidier than my room, anyway. I hadn’t expected that. He’s such a chaotic person that I’d have thought his room would be chaotic too, but everything is in its place.
I look over at his chest of drawers. A small TV, completely obscured by trophies, and medals hanging on the wall behind it.
There’s a single picture in a frame and I go over to it. It’s him but he’s much younger, perhaps ten or eleven. You can pick him out straight away from his dark hair and tanned skin. He has his arm around Calvin’s neck and Tony, Scoot and Doeboy sit next to them. They’re in a pub, or like a dancehall or something, mid laugh, and their eyes drip with mischief. They look like the lost boys or maybe a band of little savages. I remember what Alice told me about him looking for trouble since the day he was born and I can see it captured in this photo.
I put it down and go for a shower. He might have brought me clothes, but he failed massively on all the other stuff I need to get ready, so I come out with no conditioner on my hair and smelling like men’s body wash.