Unforgettable!

XIV Nam should get a cat

14.1 Mark

"Pick, Mark. Mark, Pick," Ton introduces his childhood friend, who is now the new bartender at Soi 99. Pick is tall and fit. He has an angular face with sharp cheekbones and strong jawline begging to be introduced to my fist. You know, he looks cool without even trying and he looks down at me as if he's better than me. I clench my fists and give him an upward nod. "You've met at the New Year's Eve party. Remember?" Ton says. I remember. Pick is the guy who fucked Nam on the 42nd floor that night. Did Pick see me there? I suppress a shudder and nod. Pick grins and pats my shoulder.

"See you around," he says and fucks off to a staff-only door. What a jerk.

It is the gig night. We are up in ten minutes. Ton's hair is freshly dyed in turquoise blue and his shirt is ironed and clean. "What if there's a producer in the audience and I'm looking like trash? No way. I should always look ready to become a star," he told me once. I couldn't care less. If someone decides to pull me into showbiz, they should do so because of my talent, not because of my looks. My worn-out jeans, a black shirt I wear every day, and my greasy messy hair shouldn't be a problem.

Luc walks into the club along with his uni clique. Luc's never come to our gigs before. He usually made us sing for him in parks or at Ton's condo. Luc before Fort was avoiding any crowded places unless it was vitally necessary. Fort's Luc brings friends to a club.

I shiver when I see Nam. The guy rubs me the wrong way. Every time I look at him, I feel like my bones are filled with ants and I can't shake them off.

"Mark." Luc comes to us. "Ton." He's smiling, so earnest and happy. Damn you, Fort. "I brought you fans," he declares proudly.

"You could've come alone," I snap.

"Don't be a jerk," Ton says and goes to where Fort, Rick, and Nam are standing with two girls I have never seen before.

Luc is staring at me now, arms folded on his chest, unimpressed.

I sigh. "Sorry," I say, feeling guilty and miserable. "Thank you." I bite my tongue to keep my bitterness and hurt inside.

Luc pushes his lips together, throws another stern look at me, and then lets his shoulders down. "Wanna hear a joke? Fort thinks there's something between you and Nam."

I huff a laugh. "Your Fort's mental. The guy gives me the creeps." I shudder, imagining myself with Nam. Disgusting.

"Nam is cool, though. Why don't you like him so much?"

I hesitate. I eye the crowd searching for Nam. He is talking to a tall guy in a black tank top. I want to spit the sour taste out of my mouth. "He sleeps around like a dirty whore." Shit. Why can't he just keep his mouth shut?

"Ton sleeps around. You don't talk shit about him."

"Ton is Ton," I mutter. I don't like this conversation. An ugly thought is scratching at his chest – It would've been better if Luc didn't come at all. And Why does he always take their side?

"And what's that supposed to mean? Mark, I know you are not homophobic. So what's with the double standards? Ton can fuck around because he's straight and male, but because Nam is gay, it's suddenly an unforgivable sin? What the fuck?"

"No," I growl. I don't know what to say. I don't know how I feel and why. I just can't stand the sight of Nam. "Ton can take care of himself," I manage lamely. "And it's not like a girl can hurt him if he does her wrong, right?"

"Nam can stand for himself."

I want to hit my head against a wall. "Still. It makes him... less attractive."

Luc cocks his head and arches his eyebrow. "I fail to see how this is any of your concern unless Fort is right and you are jealous."

"Fuck you and your Fort," I say and go up on the stage.

14.2 Nam

That jerk, James, is here. The captain of our varsity football team. Tall and handsome, second only to Fort. Shame he is a total dick.

"Babe," the dick says, grabbing my wrist. I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't even remember my name. "Our last time was fun. Was it? We can repeat it sometime. I'm free tonight."

"I don't do repeats," I say flatly. I pull my hand, trying to get free, but James just holds my wrist tighter and tugs me toward himself. I have to put my other hand onto his chest for balance.

"Why's that?" James leans in closer. I fight the urge to break James's nose with my head.

"Can't let you fall for me. I have no desire to be responsible for your broken heart," I explain coolly.

James laughs. "A bit presumptuous, aren't you?"

I shrug. "Maybe. But you are already begging me for more, aren't you?"

James's grip on my wrist gets so tight it hurts. I don't let it show on my face. "I'll make you beg me—," James doesn't finish his thought, because Fort interrupts him with a loud,

"Nam." He's standing behind James, calm and intimidating. "Come on. Everyone is waiting for you."

"Yeah," I say. "James, could you please let go of my hand? Thank you, sweetie." James drops my hand and pushes me with his shoulder, walking away. I'm going to have bruises on my wrist.

"One day I won't be here to save you," Fort says quietly as we walk to our table.

"I never asked you for help. James knows I'm a boxing champion, he wouldn't hurt me. Keep your heroics for your boyfriend." I didn't throw a punch because I didn't want to make a scene. In a dark alley, I would knock him out. (Or let him fuck me if I were in the mood and then punched him.)

"Nam."

"What?"

"Can you at least date good guys?"

"I don't date anyone."

"Maybe you should. You can't go on like this forever. Find a nice guy. Be happy."

"Oh, come on! Don't start this shit about settling down and growing up. We are all different. We all need different things. It's unfair and cruel to force everyone to live according to one fucked up standard."

Fort stops and looks at me. "Nam," he says softly. "I care about you. I don't want you to get hurt and I don't want you to be alone. You deserve more than this."

"I won't be alone. I'll be fine," I say, looking at the stage, where Mark already sitting on a chair with his guitar on his lap. Looking effortlessly cool. With that stupid frown of his and those pouty lips. He's probably jealous again. "One day I will marry a nice girl from a good family. We'll have three children, a beautiful house, and a golden retriever."

I shiver at the thought. I fucking hate retrievers, golden or not, I'd rather get a cat. But cats don't look good in ideal family portraits. Dad probably would fake a cat fur allergy, because cats aren't status animals. Fuck. I should definitely adopt a cat.

"Nam," Fort calls, he sounds sad.

"What." I want to hide in a bathroom and cry. Only I don't cry. Ever. I ride through every storm with pride, grace, and a head held high. Nothing can hurt me. Nothing can bring me down.

"He doesn't own you. He doesn't own your life. You have to live for yourself."

Mark starts playing his guitar and Ton takes the microphone. It's the same song from the New Year's party. About lovers traveling around the world. "I'm not so sure," I mumble, sitting down next to Ann.