“It’s okay. Take your time, Angie. I gave you too much, but I couldn’t help myself. You’re just so thin.”
My gut settled after a few minutes of not eating, and I was content to hear my parents chatting, and watch Graham finish his entire plate. This made Mom happy.
“You can have mine if you want,” I told him, pushing it forward.
He glanced at my parents, who both nodded, so he pulled my plate up and dug in. I wondered how long it’d been since he had a decent meal. Afterward he holed himself back in his room, and I had a strangely normal day with my parents. The three of us walked around the land behind the house, holding hands, then watched a movie. Then I beat Dad at a game of Gin-Rummy, though I’m certain he let me win.
Agent Abernathy showed up for an hour to scout the property and check on us, a reminder that were were not just some regular family on vacay in Scotland.
I felt myself holding back, afraid to be happy. I didn’t laugh or smile as much as the wonderful day warranted. I was so scared of my parents learning of the things I’d done and being disgusted with me, though they’d never admit it. And I couldn’t stop worrying about Mr. Douglas, and wondering about Josef and Perla.
That night when everyone went to bed and the house was quiet, I tossed and turned for hours. When I heard footsteps going down the hall, I got up and tip-toed after them. I knocked on Graham’s door, and he opened it right away, still holding a brown paper sack in his hand. He looked refreshed, wearing a skull T-shirt.
“Are you going out?” I asked.
“Nae, coming in for the night. Join me if you’d like.”
I did, and he closed the door behind me. He took a bottle of vodka out of the bag and drank directly from the open neck. When he held it out to me I shook my head.
We sat on the gamer chairs, and talked. I watched as he progressed into a more relaxed, version of himself with the drink in his system. He even smiled, which made him incredibly good-looking. Was Mr. Douglas that breathtaking when he smiled?
“Come on,” Graham said. “Have a drink with me. Just one.”
I chewed my lip. “I can’t drink a lot. And not straight like you’re doing.”
He stood and went to a mini-fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and bottle of cranberry juice. In seconds he had a drink in my hand. I sipped it and let it warm my chest. It wasn’t too strong. I thanked him and he sat next to me again.
We talked and talked. I asked him about Colin as a boy, and heard how Colin had always been the painter and partier while Graham was the drawer and gamer.
“Do you still draw?” I asked.
He shrugged, hiding his face behind his hair. “I mostly dick around with computer graphics and shite.”
“Have you ever taken a class?”
“Nae. Can’t keep much of a schedule. Though I sometimes dream of going to New York City and attending graphic design school.”
My eyes widened. “You should! Graham, that would be wonderful for you!”
He shook his head. “Nae, nae. Shouldn’t ha’ told you that. I could never do it. Be a responsible student and citizen and all that shite.”
I disagreed, but the way he curled inward and chugged from the bottle told me he was finished with that aspect of the conversation.
As the night progressed and tiredom set in, I drank through it, accepting my third. My tongue was loose. We shared disturbing things—the stuff that haunted us at nights and made us hate ourselves. Graham’s stories were so much more awful than mine. While I was often revered by men at the villa like a goddess, Graham’s experience was the opposite. He’d had four owners, each worse than the previous. He was reminded daily that he was despicable trash, a body barely worthy of their use. And he’d been so young.
His eyes were red, when I pushed the hair from his face and made him look at me. He reminded me so much of Josef, his thin frame and pained past.
“You’re a good person, Graham. They were monsters.”
“Your master was a monster, as well, Angela. Though you speak of him fondly…”
An image of Marco filled my mind. Was he a monster?
Yes.
I shuddered. Without a doubt Fernando was a beast of nightmares. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. And right now Colin Douglas was out there chasing my monster.
My thoughts of fear and gratitude were interrupted when Graham moved closer, on his knees in front of me. I smelled the warmth of alcohol on his breath, and saw the way his tentative gray eyes searched me for something. With an impulsive move he took my face and pressed his firm lips to mine. His lip ring was cool in contrast to the heat of his mouth.
Never tell a patron no. Allow him to do whatever he wishes…
Unease ratcheted through me.
No. No. Not a patron. This was Mr. Douglas’s brother. He was only trying to thank me in the only way he knew how. To reward my kindness physically. I couldn’t let this happen.