Well one of us watched all of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy all the way to the end.

Ever walk into a room after being gone a while and everyone's holding their breath, waiting for you to notice/comment/react to something that's hugely different?

Yeah. That happened to me this afternoon and even after realizing they were waiting I still didn't know why and I threw my bag down on the island, cracking open a Gatorade because it's three hundred thousand degrees outside still and I'm actually taking antibiotics for a bacterial flu bug.

(But still working because DEDICATION. LOYALTY. WORK ETHICS and also MONEY. And free breakfast plates after 1 pm, huzzah!)

I finally snapped at Dalton with the most Lochlanesque order I've ever given. Go on then. Out with it! 

He nodded toward PJ. I look and then look back at Dalton and then around the room. What is happening. I don't get it.

Then PJ stood up and turned to smile at me and I realized what was different. I may have shrieked and dropped my Gatorade on the floor and now my whole kitchen is vaguely tinted orange.

PJ cut off all his hair. His elbow-length hair. His Obituary hair.

All of it.

He still has the beard and the chops but now he has a wavy, short do, streaked with some serious salt and pepper mixed in with his light brown.

You look amazing. 

I was so fucking hot, Bridge, I couldn't stand anot-

I love it. 

You do?

Yes. Also you look taller. 

See, I TOLD you I did. PJ claps Duncan on the back of the head. Fucker.

Each one more beautiful.

Caleb had my car collected and taken home and was there when I came outside, keys in hand, wondering who STOLE MY FUCKING CAR. No one had, he said, having sent one of the boys who listened, God knows why, and left me captive with my monster the whole way home. I put on Starset in the car, the new acoustic recording of Ricochet, and proceeded to sing along with my newly scratchy lower-mainland-forest-fire-air-quality voice, which is hella interesting to me, thinking he might listen to the words for once but instead he turned it off.

And I kept singing.

They won't know my heart
It's the darkest parrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

Neamhchiontach. 

What? (Interrobang. Put it here.)

Are you warm?

What gave you that idea? I'm slippery like a fish, pouring sweat. Soaked through my dress. Wet hair. Completely unintentional smokey eyes. Smeared red lipstick. Hot? Yeah, no. Not me. Not right now.

I was hoping we could go somewhere for an early dinner. 

Sure. Pick something. And I give him my crazy smile.

Maybe another night. His silence allows me to turn the radio back on and I resume my singing. I have no shame.

When we get home I get out of the car, shouldering my bag, staring at him through the simmering waves of heat rising off the top of the car. I note my Porsche neatly parked under the tree by the garage. Good. At least one thing is how I like it today and fuck my legs hurt but I give Caleb my brave smile.

Why did you come pick me up?

So I could talk with you. 

But you didn't. 

It didn't seem like the right time. 

For what?

Another day, Neamhchiontach. For now it was just nice to treat you to a drive home. One less thing for you to do. 

I know what it is. 

Pardon me? 

You're still here, Diabhal. Still an alpha. Still my boyfriend, if that's what you want to be. Sam isn't taking anyone's place. He doesn't come before you. 

He smiles, suddenly looking like that handsome teenage boy who used to offer to drive me home from the beach. Bridget, you've just extended a generous peace of mind to me when I don't deserve it. 

I know. 

Thank you nonetheless.  

I would want to know where I stood as well. 

What do you mean?

If you had..others-

I don't.

What about Sophie?

There is only you, Bridget. 

No wonder you're lonely. 

Yes, well. I made my bed, as it were. I can't even say it's hyperbole but this is what I ended up with by trying to have everything I wanted. 

I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted here. 

Be flattered. I only ever wanted you. Now the time I do get is short and measured, tempered with supervision and suspicion and fear. I didn't want to be a monster but my need for you made me into one. 

Sorry. It's a whisper. He could say here that it's not my fault but it is just because I'm alive. Anyone could protest that I didn't ask for this but I did.

I'm sorry too, Neamhchiontach.  Life could have been so different.

Someone to hear your prayers.

I'll make you a believer

Oh. Oh.

The few few gestures warmed my heart, watching such an easy affection wash over them, as they found their places in the warm early morning against me. Comfort turned to an undercurrent of mild panic as they continued to extend those touching moments, almost threatening to leave me out in the process and I realized why he isn't worried that I'll fall in love with Sam and shut him out again, isn't worried that I want to divide my attentions all the time but also seeks him out, extends invitations without even checking with me first, folding Sam into our nights so easily.

Because Lochlan is in love with Sam.

I don't know if Sam is a life raft in Lochlan's sea of spiritual indecision or a concrete attempt to fill any space Caleb might try and occupy with someone he trusts. I don't know why Ben doesn't take this place as he and Lochlan are always loving and affectionate to a fault, possibly beyond with their grand displays some times and yet this is something different.

It's as if maybe Sam is Lochlan's security blanket. His safe harbour. His own personal Jesus, where Ben carries an air of vulnerability that makes you want to take care of him, in spite of his size and his easy humor in even the scariest of situations.

Maybe it has nothing to do with me, I think as I watch them look into each other's eyes as if they've never seen each before or maybe they have seen each other and they've come back hungry, looking for more.

Maybe it's that I've demanded Lochlan open his mind and accept having his personal space invaded on such a visceral level he's finally embraced it.

But only with Sam.

It makes me wonder if maybe some night I'll come back and my space will be taken, filled in a way I can never hope to fill it. With confidence and strength and righteousness. With a masculine security I seek out too.

But then my fears are smothered by their attention, all on me suddenly, as if they just had to figure out how to coordinate their efforts to bring together the well-practiced midnight choreography I crave so hard it hurts, and my jealousy evaporates in the early morning heat. Now that it's daylight I'm not sure if it really was jealousy after all, or just the usual fear of being left behind that developed at such a young age, imprinting on Lochlan like an orphaned ugly duckling and sticking to him ever since.

Those worries aren't necessary, Lochlan says, bruising his lips against my forehead, hard as ever, stubborn as always. It's just a safe place to get carried away. He winks at me. Lochlan likes to keep his freak flag flying indoors these days, trying to be a standup dad and husband (sometimes both at once with all the wrong people) and keeps his darker side hidden in dark places. Like our room.

I kind of love it. When I'm not scared I'll be replaced. 

He laughs gently in the morning light. That's definitely never going to happen.

But what if it already has?

Say a prayer for the wounded heart within, indeed.

Fade away to the wicked world we left
And I become the dark of you
Say a prayer for the wounded heart within as I become the dark of you

I've been tucked into Ben's arm all afternoon, trying to nap while he reads contracts, jolted out of my daze every now and then when he asks a question about wording, or one about money. I've become his de facto lawyer and financial planner. This is not a bad thing, trust me. He had a manager who fucked him over and then came back and fucked him over again just in case we had any doubts. It hurts worse because he was a friend.

The ex-manager doesn't work in the business anymore because I unleashed Caleb on him. Caleb had him ruined with a phone call. Ben then had a dozen cold calls offering services he never had access to before. Not sure how or why Caleb has such a fondness for Ben but there it is. If only he liked Lochlan at all.

I have headphones in too, so I have to pull those out and my brain isn't pleased for it's too busy digging through riffs and beats looking for the vocals. My ears and my brain don't connect all that well. Once I hear something my brain has to examine it for far too long before deciphering what it might be (usually wrong) and so song lyrics are becoming increasingly difficult. I used to listen to a song a few times and then I could sing along. Now I have to look up the words and memorize them. My brain is so full it's sluggish and no longer jumps to fight through the music for the beautiful words.

But Ben has amazing ear monitors and he had a little set molded just for me and I can hear everything. Well, mostly. I can't wear my hearing aids and ear monitors at the same time so there you go.

Ben's phone vibrates and he holds it up. I see Caleb's name on the screen with a message.

Where is she

Ben puts his phone back in his shirt pocket without replying and I turn the music up louder. Dark of me, indeed.

Little things and big things too.

I came down for breakfast covered with handprints. On my cheeks, my neck, my arms, my ears. Lochlan set us both on fire last night but the heat from the flames blended easily with the scorching heat residue from the sun earlier in the day and it was just like old times. We counted the money from Jay's wallet (a blistering $345 as he isn't a card person and tends to budget in the physical sense. Noted for next time.), tucked it all back in neatly with all of the bills facing the right way and left it on the bureau to return later. We only grift symbolically now, to keep our skills up in case we need them.

(I actually don't think we'll need them again but Lochlan always sleeps with his boots on, if you can understand how that feels.)

Duncan took a step backwards when he saw me. Baptized in ashes, were we?

Something like that. 

I'd be neater, Sam volunteers from the couch.

I shot him a look, poured two orange juices and took them back upstairs. I'm too hung over to banter, too filthy to get close. We drink the juice and then I take a long blisteringly hot bath which somehow became the greatest part of the heat-wave week so far, making everything else cool by comparison. The only handprint that didn't actually come off was the one on the back of my head as my hair is so pale now and the soot stuck fast, staining my hair black in the shape of his hand. I didn't notice it, but August pointed it out later on and I almost smiled at the thought of the shape of Lochlan's hand permanent touching me. Like an angel but here on earth because that's what he is.

We only slept for an hour or so the night before last, as his fuel for blood woke him up soon after we settled, a truth serum that saw him spill his fears into me in the dark, both in words and action as he searched for a way to show me how much he loved me while he told me how scared he is, how jealous he gets, how much it hurts, how badly he wants to fix everything, and how hard it all seems, how hard he works at trying to be cool with everything when right now he's cool with nothing. He talked while he drove against me, keeping me an inch from his skin, keeping me pushed up high against a euphoria I thought we left behind once, a long time ago but apparently we packed it. We brought it with us. And only once we burned off all of that fear, all that nervous energy, all of the alcohol did we appreciate it.

Boy, did we appreciate it.

I don't want for much right now, let me tell you. He strips us of our skin and our false fronts, rips the masks off, takes away the grace and we start again.

After my bath, a clean dress and the inevitable display while everyone arrived to see the handprint on my head, Lochlan made coffee and we took it out to the garden. We talked and we rocked and we checked out the progress of the yellow beans and the tomatoes and the grapes too. And we had a lovely day. A day by the sea, just for two. A day in the sun. A day in love. A day we used to dream about back in the overheated nights in the camper in between work shifts when we had three dollars but no food. A day we've actually never had before.

We topped it off with an early dinner at the diner, because we are creatures of habit, and we came back and lay in the hammock, watching the lights of the boats right through magic hour and then we went upstairs to bed where we actually slept this time, right through the night and I didn't think about grief or Jay or Caleb or Batman. I didn't think about being hungry or scared. Lochlan didn't think about being jealous or fixing things and we woke up and it's today.

Today.

Today I'm going to finish my chores quickly before it gets hot and then I'm taking some iced tea out on the porch. Today I'm going to order pizza for dinner. Today I'm going to be kinder to myself and to those I love. Today I'm going to do everything I want to do and more and also less, because it's a whole new day and that means a fresh start. A re-do. A new chance.

Actually today I need to go and return Jay's wallet. He would probably like it back.
 

Part II: Hold your fire.

And so I say to you
Let’s not force a meaning
Forget the lines we drew
Forget your teenage demons

We have nothing to state or prove
We have nothing to fear or lose
And I’ll be trying to catch you hiding
Now all my hiding is seen, circus queen

Four drinks in now and I found what I was looking for, a hole in the dark I could crawl out of in order to run back home. The getaway car wasn't supposed to be to get away from here, it was to get away from me, the me that's afraid. The me that doesn't listen. The me that goes looking for trouble and finds it every time. Just to make sure I can still feel. That I'm not dead. That someone still wants something that's broken and was once told she'd be alone forever. That's not a feeling I can take, and it's a feeling that I push back under, holding her head below every single time she surfaces.

I need you to take me home. 

You shouldn't go anywhere.

Fine. I'll go by myself. 

Jay frowns at me so handsomely my heart breaks. He walks out of the room and returns in seconds, a t-shirt now on his tall frame to go with the jeans. He skips the shoes and holds his hand out for mine.

We head across the grass in the dark. Not talking. The lights are spinning. I smell fire. As we come around the porch I see him. Lochlan, sitting on the top step skipping a single flame across his fingertips. He fumbles it when he sees us, briefly lighting up his entire fist before extinguishing it with his other hand as he stands up. He looks wild, dishevelled and...also drunk. Completely trashed, as he staggers against the step and grabs the railing for support.

At least you're in good hands. Jay rolls his eyes.

Lochlan comes down to the walk, pulls me away from Jay, noting our hands, and gives him a good shove. Jay, to his credit, didn't dent any fridges this time and didn't budge either. He's not the man he was when he landed with us, broken and afraid. I'll have to remember to ask him how he did that when I'm sober, as the rest of us can't seem to figure it out.

Go home, drifter. Lochlan doesn't want to argue so he tries a command.

She asked me to walk her home. I would have let her stay and sleep it off but I figured I owed you more than I can ever pay you back and this is a start. For what it's worth, she only had one drink with me and arrived half in the bag.

Lochlan is staring at me like he's never seen me before. As soon as my flesh begins to blister from his gaze I beg for mercy. Jesus, Loch. I'm too drunk for this shit. Can we just go home?

He nods and tucks an arm around my neck. He addresses Jay with a nod. Lochlan's famous approval that makes you feel like you're okay. Thanks. 

Jay nods and we turn to go back up the steps. At the top I hear my name.

Wait. Bridget?

I turn. Yeah?

Can I have my wallet back?

Lochlan laughs. No. Gotta keep your eye on your belongings. 

Jay is stronger than I thought. I would say the same to you. 

Night, Jacob.

Lochlan tenses but we keep moving forward and soon I am in my big comfy bed and he is wrapped around me tightly so I can sleep.

Part I: Keep the car running.

He called me over for a drink, not liking my words, wanting to fix it, wanting to change things, his voice amused and yet clipped, wounded, dark, almost.

I can't resist so I promise him one drink and I show up at nine, the smoky blue night just beginning to settle over the point. I've seen the world and I want more but I also want to control everyone around me and I can only do it if I'm here. Joel always said that need comes from feeling as if my life is always out of control but I don't know why he says that. It isn't. It's fine. Everything's fine.

One drink turned to two and then three as blue deepened to black and he pulls me into his lap. I cup his face in my hands but I don't kiss him. I just stare into his eyes. I'm not supposed to be here. Not supposed to be like this. Not supposed to want this.

I'll make it twenty-five thousand. 

Now you sound like Caleb. 

Okay, I'll make it two-hundred and fifty thousand. 

He laughs at his own joke, taking a kiss I didn't offer him. I pull back but I can't get far enough away so I stick my lower lip out and extend the dare as far as I can. I don't believe you. 

I told you forever ago I could do whatever he could ten times over. 

He has no conditions. You have so many. 

You accepted my invitation. 

For one drink-

Bridget, it's never one drink and we both, hell, everyone knows it. That's code. That's the dance. The only condition here is timing. 

He doesn't want more than I can give him. 

I don't like your lies. They stain an otherwise beautiful face. Tell me the difference and I'll let you go. I don't think you can. 

He isn't cold, like you. 

Batman stares into my eyes for what feels like the remainder of the night as the heat burns off the hemlocks, settling into the ground, cool air rushing in to fill the holes we're blowing into the dusk, trying to force light in all around us. I stare back in return. Don't call me a liar or it's going to hurt even more. He takes my drink from me and slides me off his lap, standing up, standing me up and turning me away in the same motion. 

Lock the door when you leave, he says and he leaves the room. Just to make sure I was telling the truth, I guess. I thought about following him and asking him to prove I'm wrong but I didn't. It's a first.

But I'm still keyed up so hard, I don't want to go home. Reckless fuel in my blood from the whiskey flushes through to my skin, which screams at the cold air as I head down the hall, knocking on the door softly. Jay opens the door to his rooms, a look of surprise on his face I adore instantly. He's in soft jeans, no shirt, no shoes, in need of a haircut, in need of sleep maybe but he holds the door wide and I walk underneath his arm into his cozy den. He's got a movie on the television and a half-finished beer on the table.

What do you need, Bridget? He says as he closes the door behind us. I should have said Lochlan. I could have said anything. But instead I said I needed at least three more drinks and maybe a driver with a getaway car for when I run. And Jay laughed and thought I was flirting with him and went and got the good stuff and poured me a drink so strong I forgot what I wanted to run from.

Whoop-fucking-whoop, indeed.

Tomorrow I'm being moved again, starting at a different restaurant, one owned by one of my boss's relatives. Out of sight, out of mind? Or cherry-picked to help run a cuter, brand-new place that has a soft opening this week after many delays. It's only slightly higher-end and may be a different crowd, but not too different, and since 2018 seems to be the year of Bridget never being comfortable, why the hell not? My uniform is pressed and ready to go, shoes shined and correspondence with my new boss is in place, as they confirmed late this afternoon that yes, indeed, it's happening.

It's been three months exactly since I got the job and I'm still trucking.

Hard to believe, especially after a very tough day like today, when no one seemed happy with anything, save for a couple grateful construction workers who remembered their manners and were so appreciative of their cold drinks I wondered if I was being punked, for everyone else was SO awful today.

On the upside, Ben phoned me at lunch and said he saw that Insane Clown Posse is coming to Vancouver next month, so if I want my gathering that's my chance.

I'm thinking about it.

I need to blow off some steam.

I'm not sure how any more.

I wondered briefly if Batman knows but every time Batman looks at me lately he throws his hands up in frustration. Like Caleb except Batman has even less leverage and can only stand by and watch now, as he has exhausted his own resources in this matter and it didn't make a bit of difference.

Three months. Huh. Honestly, I've now outlasted my own expectations, and I have $2546 in my account that I didn't have back in the middle of April. I mean money I made without the help of anyone else. That's something. It's small, like me, but it's something.

Pad Bridget.

PJ's crassness yesterday was quickly frozen out by Lochlan, who did that disapproving thing he does which isn't easily quantifiable but causes one to work desperately to return to his favour. He's got a way without words, let's leave it at that.

With his looks, gestures, general tension and disapproval he saw my message on the way home and brought me Pad Thai. Which is pretty close to Vietnamese so I'll take what I can get.

He didn't bring PJ anything. Usually we include PJ in our close family meals unless it's a very specific romantic date but PJ was suitably chastened and made himself something for dinner and then after a few hours of torture Lochlan came around. Lochlan only likes the frathouse humor when he initiates it, sadly, but at the same time if you give any of the boys free enterprise they will take off running and we'd never crawl out of that hole.

By midnight they were back to normal. By then I was hungry again.

Chlorine Jesus.

Might have food delivered out here for an early dinner, as I kind of don't want to move. I already had coffee, croissants and my laptop delivered to me poolside. Got to objectify a few willing people along the way, got objectified in return as I've busted out the new pink eyelet string bikini, which looks great with my perpetual sun/razor burns. Pink is probably the wrong color today, as Caleb is legendary for giving me bad razor burn, but my new striped bathing suit (one piece! I love it but no one else seems to?!) is on the clothesline and I forgot to check and see if it was dry.

The stripes are orange, blue, brown and a dusty rose. It's so seventies.

Hey. I try to get Dalton's attention but the man is out cold. Dalt. Hey DALT.  He doesn't move so I call PJ. Who can organize dinner out here without me leaving? 

You're asking me if I'll bring out steaks and a salad to cook out there?

No, I want Vietnamese takeaway. 

Ah. Going hard on the self-care today?

Huh?

You want me to go fetch you takeout?

No. Is anyone out who can pick some up?

Bridget, I was sleeping. Send out a note. If someone can get it, I'm sure they will. 

I don't know if I want to play that card. 

Why not?

What if I need a bigger favor later?

You know how to suck a dick. 

JESUS, PJ!