“Jim,” she muttered as she gave him another nudge but there was no response. “James,” she said slightly louder as she rolled over to face him so she could shake his shoulder too.
“Hey, baby.” A lazy smile and a sleepy expression lit up his face. “Did you miss your booty call last night, honey? You're the one that fell asleep,” he told her with a grin as he reached up to push her hair off her face.
“No. Listen. I can hear raised voices, Philip’s,” she explained and immediately Jim leapt out of bed.
He pulled on a pair of shorts and after unlocking it reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a handgun, shocking Tasha into near silence.
“What the fuck?” she asked as he headed for the door.
“We'll talk.”
“Too fucking right.” Tasha felt angry as she considered the fact there was a gun in their home at all never mind that it was loaded and Jim was expertly removing some kind of safety catch from it.
“Ssh, I said we’ll talk.” He frowned and opened the bedroom door where the other voice could be heard clearly now. Juan.
Jim replaced the lock on the gun and returned it to the drawer. He added a pair of sweatpants while Tasha pulled on a pair of pyjamas before going downstairs where they found an obviously upset Philip shouting at Juan.
“I deserve better than this,” he cried.
“Phil, I’m just suggesting a break.” Juan sounded just as sad as the other man.
“Why? For what? So you can try fucking your cousin and see if you can't un-gay yourself?” sobbed Philip.
“No! I don't know,” admitted Juan. “I’m confused. We've been through so much. I've been through so much. You stayed here last night and several nights before because of what happened in our home and yet it didn't happen to you. It happened to me and an interior designer can't wipe out the memories and images in my head. Images I see every time I step foot in that house. Every time I am here. Every time I see Lizzie or Tasha. Happy now?” He sounded tearful himself, but it was Tasha who had tears running down her face.
This was her fault. If she'd never met Jim—
Seeming to sense her thoughts, Jim took her hand and squeezed it, leaning down and brushing her tears away with a shake of his head before addressing the two young men in his house. “Would someone care to explain why my wife and I have woken to the sound of you two fighting?”
They both spun and looked slightly embarrassed to have been discovered.
“Sorry,” they replied in unison.
“Not a suitable answer at half past five in the morning.” Jim sounded angry suddenly.
“Maybe we should take this home,” suggested Juan making Jim and Tasha frown, but it was the latter that spoke.
“What? To the home that an interior designer can't wipe out the memories of what happened there? And it happened to me too, Juan. In fact, not wanting to make this a competition but it happened to me more than anyone so maybe you should stay here. Think about what it is you want to say to each other and why. I’ll make some tea and coffee and then we should talk, all of us and maybe you two do need to talk, but not shout until Lizzie and Connor are woken up too.” Tasha strode into the kitchen leaving the three men in her wake.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Tash,” began Juan, gaining everyone’s attention. “But, with respect, this has nothing to do with anyone else—”
Jim cut in, knowing what Juan was saying and to a point agreeing with him, but there was no way he could or would allow the back off that was coming his wife’s way to go unchallenged. “I would strongly suggest you think before you continue to speak.” He gave the other man a hard stare, almost daring him to continue.
Tasha, seemed to be completely unfazed by Juan or his words and whilst she knew her husband would defend her, the truth was she didn’t need him to right now. “Yeah, then if you really felt this way you wouldn’t have done this here, in my home at stupid fucking o’clock, so tough.”
Juan stared, open mouthed while Philip watched on.
“Oh,” she continued, “And if you wanted this to be totally private you wouldn’t have started this in Philip’s occupied family home after disappearing to fuck knows where with fuck knows who.”
“Tasha, baby,” Jim said, chastening her use of expletives.
“Sorry,” said Juan, accepting every word Tasha had said.
“Baby,” Jim interrupted the cold stare Tasha was currently directing at her friend. “I'll go and check on Connor.” Jim moved towards the kitchen where she stood scooping coffee into the filter.
“You and I need to talk after they have,” she told him, gesturing towards the two young men sitting quietly together.
“Sure thing.”
