Second Base (3 page)

Pete cleared his throat.

When Dan escaped the hypnotic pull of Karen’s eyes, he found his friend studying the bookcase. ‘Sorry.’ As the word left his mouth he wanted it back. Why did he feel the need to apologise for a gesture of affection? In his own home?

Karen noticed Pete at the same moment and jerked away. She pressed her back to the door frame and smoothed her shirt over her stomach. ‘Hey, Pete. How are you?’

‘Fine,’ he stared at the books.

Dan frowned. He imagined a thick wall of ice, with Karen and Pete on either side, talking across the awkward distance. ‘What’s wrong with you two?’

Pete shrugged.

Karen gazed at her toes.

He sighed. ‘Is this about the cage? Still? Guys, I’m sorry but we’ve got to move on. It wasn’t that big a deal, right?’

Discomfort centred on the memory forced him to lock the experience away in a far corner of his mind. Having to leave Karen in a three–by–three play cage was bad enough, but being forced to call Pete to rescue her was far worse.

Pete gave a tight smile. ‘What are you talking about? I’m fine, mate. I’ve already forgotten everything I saw. We’re good, right Kaz?’

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘We’re good.’

Bullshit.

He longed to shake both of them. To grab their shoulders and jerk them back and forth until the lies ran clear. If only it were so simple.

With Karen, maybe—they were much better at talking since the trip to Sugar Dust—but Peter? The man clammed up tighter than an oyster when he wanted and nothing short of torture would open his mouth.

I don’t have time for this.

‘Fine. Whatever. I need a tablecloth.’ He struck off for the kitchen.

Karen grabbed his arm. ‘Don’t go in there just yet.’

A keening groan floated through the closed door across the hallway.

Karen shrugged. ‘I stopped to grab a beer and found Cindy with her head under Sam’s skirt. If we don’t disturb them they’ll get it out of their system a lot faster.’

‘I doubt that.’ Dan rolled his eyes. ‘Fucking lesbians.’

‘Hey,’ she slapped his arm. ‘As if we haven’t done worse. Remember last night?’

Dan did indeed recall; the damp cotton of Karen’s underwear in his pocket and the delicious pressure of her toes as she massaged his cock beneath the table while he struggled to eat spaghetti carbonara. He remembered the delirious pleasure as he fumbled the remote in his pocket, occasionally giving the egg clamped inside her pussy a burst of high speed.

It was enough to make his cock twitch.

He shook his head. ‘I’ll not forget in a hurry. Believe me.’

Another loud moan came from the kitchen. Maniacal laughter. Something heavy thudded on to the floor. Shrieks of pleasure.

Dan turned back to the living room. ‘Maybe we should get the sound system ready.’

Karen patted his arm. ‘Good idea.’

Karen refilled a bowl of nuts while swaying her hips to the pounding music.

The press of bodies, loud chatter and music collided to make thinking difficult. Not that it mattered. People seemed more concerned with dancing, eating and drinking.

She checked her phone, scrolling through her recent calls. Nothing yet. Not even a text message.

Maybe the train’s late. Or she’s stuck without a signal. She’d call if she could.

Her palms prickled with sweat. Karen wiped them on her jeans. To occupy her hands, she fussed with the links of her slave band, turning the rings back and forth on her slender fingers.

Three silver rings, attached to a bracelet by thin chains studded with white crystals like flakes of diamond.

Seeing it soothed her. Reminded her of the love shared between herself and Dan, hot, honest and deep.

She faced the room, smiling each time someone caught her eye. Colleagues from the university, various social workers from Dan’s professional circle, the occasional closer friend. So many people turned out to wish herself and Dan well in their new home.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Dan fiddling with the stereo. As he stooped, the muscles across his back and shoulder bunched, released and bunched again. His hair curled over the back of his neck and shoulders.

He needs a trim.

She imagined doing it herself, running her fingers through the silky-soft strands to reveal the nape of his neck. She longed to kiss him. Or bite him.

Living with Dan was a dream come true. Waking to his face every morning, listening to his steady breathing every night. Washing his holey, mismatched socks, cooking his food, sharing his bath. She treasured every part of it.

A voice came from her right. ‘Karen, I don’t like the carpets.’ Sharp. Slightly nasal. An inflection that spoke of dirty, smelly things in need of a wash.

She fixed a wide smile in place and turned to face her mother-in-law. ‘Good evening, Maxine.’

The older woman wrinkled her surgically straightened nose. ‘Haven’t we already done all that?’

‘You said hello to Dan, not me.’

‘Oh, you silly thing.’ Maxine waved her hand, a clatter of gold bracelets. ‘It’s implied. Hello Daniel and his darling significant other?’

Sarcastic bitch.

Karen struggled to moderate her tone. ‘What’s wrong with the carpets?’

‘They’re brown.’

‘Egg-shell.’

‘It looks dirty. Like some big, wet dog rolled all over it. Is it new?’

‘Of course it is. What are you trying to say?’

Maxine glanced at her feet then up again, as if to leave her gaze on the carpet would render her dirty too. ‘You never can tell. I hope you went to a proper store and not one of those cheap Asian places. It doesn’t even match this gorgeous wallpaper.’

Karen grinned, a childish surge of triumph. ‘You’ll have to ask Dan:
he
chose the carpet. I bought the wallpaper.’ She shoved passed Maxine before anything less delicate could pass her mouth. She angled herself toward Cindy, chatting gaily with Julian on the long sofa.

The older man stood when she approached. He held out his hands and she gladly clasped them in her own, leaning in to kiss his whiskery cheek. ‘Hey.’

‘Good evening, my dear. What a wonderful party. Thank you for inviting us.’

‘Having fun?’

‘Yes and having a splendid chat with your lovely friend. She’s quite the charmer.’

Cindy gave a surprised bark of laughter. ‘Steady on, grandpa.’

Karen smiled. For all her friend’s unconventional appearance, Cindy always did have a way with words and a strong, magnetic charisma. ‘Just don’t let her draw you into politics. She’s much less charming then.’

Cindy stuck up her middle finger, then fiddled with her white hair. ‘Just because I have views, Kaz. You’re so busy bending over for Wonder-Dan over there, you never think about the bigger picture. You two are pioneers. You should be thinking about what you can do for the world.’

‘Pioneers?’ If Cindy’s crude language bothered Julian, he did a good job of keeping it to himself. Instead he returned to his seat and folded his hands in his lap. ‘I know my son is a good man, but where does this pioneer talk come from?’

Karen opened her mouth, but Cindy got there first. ‘Don’t worry about it, Mr Scotney. I’m just playing.’

‘Well, if we’re that comfortable with each other, you’d better call me Julian.’

Karen skimmed the sofa. ‘Where’s Sam?’

A soft chuckle from Cindy. ‘In the downstairs bathroom. She started to see colours so I told her to stay there for a bit.’

‘How many of those stupid things did she eat?’

‘She says six, but she’s a shitty liar for a copper. More like ten. She’ll be a mess. A dopey, giggling, horny mess.’

‘Maybe I should check on her.’

‘No, I’ll go.’ Cindy stood, brushed crumbs off her lap and marched away.

Julian thumbed his bristly upper lip. ‘This is a lovely house, my dear. I’m glad to see you happy.’

She gazed at the links of the slave band draped over her wrist. ‘I’ve never been happier.’

‘Daniel is happy too, I hope you know that.
You
make him happy.’

Karen squirmed and rubbed the back of her neck. She plucked a sausage roll from the stack on the table and popped it into her mouth.

‘I’ve embarrassed you. I just . . .’ He looked up as he sought the words he wanted. His gaze fell on the bracket beside the lampshade, remnants of Dan’s suspension play. ‘What’s that?’

‘Nothing. And I’m not embarrassed, just—’ she fished around for an appropriate diversion and saw Maxine running a finger along the top of the TV. ‘Your wife doesn’t seem to agree.’

Julian cleared his throat hard enough to make his whiskers billow in the draught. ‘My wife hides pleasure well, that’s certain, but she’s happy too. Trust me. Daniel means more to her than anything and even she sees that you’re good for him. Try not to take anything she says too personally.’

Karen didn’t speak. Her fingers opened and closed over her palms, tight fists she had to shake away. ‘She hates me.’

‘No, no, she doesn’t. Don’t believe that for a moment. It’s just hard to lose her baby boy.’

‘Dan is a grown man. He doesn’t even wet the bed any more.’

Julian stared, his eyes wide with alarm. An instant later he chuckled, puffing through his beard like Santa Claus. ‘
That
is why he likes you. You’re fiery. Funny. Cruel, sometimes, with that sharp tongue of yours. But I mean it, no mother ever truly believes their son has grown up. Maybe one day you’ll understand.’ He gave her stomach a meaningful glance.

‘Me?’ Her voice emerged high and squeaky, a cassette tape played too fast. ‘What?’ Karen took a step back. Gripped her stomach. A moment later she released her grip as though stunned by the reflex. Damp palms. Again. She wiped them on her jeans. ‘No, no, we don’t want—I mean, we never planned—’

His smile drooped a little. ‘Oh.’

‘Not that I wouldn’t—
we
wouldn’t. I just—we—’

Her pocket began to vibrate.

Thank God.

Groping for the mobile, Karen gave Julian an apologetic glance and backed away. ‘Sorry. I need to take this.’ She left him in the middle of the laughing, drinking crowd and tried to steady the race of her heart.

Fuck. Where did
that
come from?

She answered the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Hey, sweetie, it’s me. What number are you, again?’

Karen tightened her grip on the phone. ‘Mama?’

‘Is it number three or seven? I can hear music but I’m not sure which house it’s coming from.’

‘We’re seven.’

‘Good. Come answer the door.’

Eyes closed, Karen slipped the phone into her pocket. A moment later, a soft hand settled on her shoulder. Julian stood at her side, his bushy eyebrows drawn down in concern.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine I—my mum is here.’

His eyes brightened. ‘Wonderful. It will be nice to finally meet her. Your father too?’

Karen stiffened. ‘No.’ Breaking away, she shoved her way through the crowds to the front door. A large shadow loomed against the textured glass.

She took a deep breath. Opened the door.

Charlaine Owusu blew through like a whirlwind, planting loud, wet kisses against Karen’s cheek. ‘Hey, sweetie, this is a lovely house. You’ve done so well.’ She brandished a huge box wrapped in silver paper.

‘Hi, Mama. Thanks.’ Karen wiped a smear of lipstick off her cheek and took the gift. ‘How are you?’ She took in the tiny wrinkles at the corners of her mother’s eyes, the familiar beauty spot on her right cheek. Short hair with subtle hints of white. A tiny gold crucifix winked against her collar bone. Gold crosses dangled from her pierced ears.

‘Wonderful. Excellent. Peaceful.’ She paused in the doorway and beckoned. ‘We both are.’

‘Both? You brought a date?’

‘Yes. Is that okay?’

‘Of course it is! I’ve been hoping you would ditch that creep—’ Karen broke off when she saw her mother’s expression. ‘You didn’t ditch him, did you?’

‘Karen—’

Her grip tightened on the box. ‘I told you not to bring him to my house.’

‘I thought you would . . .’ Charlaine’s shoulders drooped.

‘What? Change my mind? No, Mama, I don’t want him in my house.’

‘But we’ve come all this way.’

Karen dropped the box. Something inside shattered. ‘I don’t care. He’s not welcome.’

A shadow fell over them. Karen flinched back, crushing the box with her heel. She looked up, then up some more. Saw white teeth with a flash of gold in one corner. Thick, jowly cheeks, narrow eyes and a hat with a wide brim that cast a shadow over the rest of the face.

‘Robert,’ she snarled.

The man stepped forward. ‘Don’t call mi that.’

‘I’ve got a bunch of other names, if you prefer.’

‘I’m your father.’

‘No, you’re not.’ Karen struck the wall with her palm. Even from a distance his breath reeked of rum. ‘And you’re
not
welcome here.’

He snorted. ‘So who’s going to keep mi out? You? This lanky white man you decided to shack up with?’

‘Please, don’t.’ Charlaine touched his arm. He shook her off.

‘Shut up, woman. You brought mi here, now I’m sure as hell staying for a bite to eat. And a drink. Get inside or out mi way, because I’m going in.’

Karen watched her mother hesitate. Indecision shone behind those big, dark eyes. Then she shook her head and stepped back. Robert shoved through and straight toward the sound of voices, kicking the silver box aside on the way.

Karen shook her head. ‘Why, Mama?’

‘I need him.’

She wanted to scream. Hot fury knotted her stomach and made her head throb. ‘You don’t.’

‘Oh, sweetie, I do. I really do.’

Karen’s anger seeped away, replaced by the chill of confusion and worry. The woman cringing in the doorway looked so unlike her mother. Charlaine Owusu was a bright, outspoken, healthy-looking woman. As Karen looked harder, she saw dark circles beneath her mother’s eyes and a sag to the skin around her neck that never used to be there. Even her trembling fingers were thinner than she remembered, the gold wedding ring on her left hand held in place with little lumps of sticky tape.

‘Mama . . .’

‘Let’s get inside. It’s cold.’

Karen picked up the crushed box and ushered her mother inside. Instead of following Robert to the sitting room, Karen led her mother into the kitchen. She plucked two shot glasses and a bottle off a high shelf. ‘Havana?’

A ghost of a smile played over Charlaine’s lips. ‘You know better than that, sweetie.’

Karen left the bottle and stooped to a low cupboard. When she straightened, she held a tall, unopened bottle of Wray and Nephew.

‘That’s my girl.’

She cracked the lid and poured a generous measure of rum into the shot glasses.

Charlaine didn’t wait but tossed hers back. ‘Wonderful. I needed that.’

Karen poured another. ‘What’s going on, Mama? You look tired. I wasn’t sure you’d come tonight.’

‘How could I not come see my baby girl’s new house? And meet her friends?’

‘You’ve met my friends. You know them. Cindy always asks after you.’

Charlaine frowned. ‘And how do you tell her anything? You never call me. You never visit me.’

‘Neither do you.’

Silence. They both drank.

Obnoxious rap lyrics floated through the open kitchen door. Someone shouted and the song cut short, replaced seconds later by a softer, reggae beat.

Karen gripped the bottle of rum. ‘I hear Robert is making himself at home.’

‘You mustn’t hate him, sweetie. He’s a good man.’