Page 24 of Thick as Thieves
My dad, Marcus Henry James Kellen Russell, and Xander Barclay must be the most stupid men on this Earth. How old are they? And they still cannot get it right. They’ve lived god knows how many lives, done so many ridiculous things—usually involving women—but this just about takes the biscuit.
I’ve watched over the past year, how they orbit around my mum, they’re worse than my uncles. The Greystones cling on like leeches. These two are entirely terrified she’ll walk away—again—and blow them out. To be honest I don’t blame her if she does. They just don’t think. Do not use their brains at all.
It’s been obvious to me from day one that they’re both in love with her. Dad obviously had a different relationship with her from Xan when they were young. But the love is there regardless. And I know it’s not platonic love, the love of a family member. It’s rip-your-heart-out love. Bury yourself love. I see it in their faces every time they talk about her.
I’ve known since that first Christmas in LA Xander wanted to be in my life as much as my dad did. He wanted to be a father figure to me and Bucky. Embracing us as much as he could. He was all over us, talking about Mum and what he felt for her, how he felt about her. I know beyond any shadow of a doubt he would have a full relationship with her given half a chance. I see how he looks at her. He doesn’t hide it. He never has. Oh, he jokes, turns things into funny stories, or makes quips. But he means it completely and utterly. Even Bucky can see it, and we’ve talked about it loads.
They may think they’ve hidden it, but I don’t doubt that the relationship he has with my dad has gone way beyond brothers. I haven’t mentioned that to anyone, but I saw Uncle Jonno watching them, and I’m pretty sure he knows, or at least thinks, the same as me. It’s so obvious if you watch them, and easy to see how they’ve ended up here.
I know it’s not the norm, and I know they’re in for a world of pain—and probably us too—but love is love. But if they don’t get their shit together, they’ll lose her. They need to stop treading carefully and just ask her. She’s a pragmatic woman, she doesn’t need to be led into anything, just be straight and ask her.
I consider my mum's face closely as she shoots out of their bedroom in our hotel suite, and my heart sinks at the conversation I think I’m going to have to have. Should a son really get involved in his parents' relationship to this extent? I know we Greystones have a history of meddling, getting involved in all aspects of everyone's lives. And even though no boundaries are ever respected, this would be unprecedented.
But I’m worried if I don’t, they’ll somehow manage to fuck it all up again. I need to save them from themselves. They won’t survive it this time around. Well, Dad certainly won’t. He’s already displayed his fragility where she and the babies are concerned.
Uncle Jonno knows them well, kept tabs on them over the years to keep me and Mum safe. He calls them fuckheads. It's so apt, they really are. I did hear a bit of what was said between Dad and Xan. Maybe I need to stop listening, but ingrained habits are hard to break. Especially when it’s been hammered into your DNA by your uncles.
Clearly it’s been talked about before. Reared its head again in London and France. Probably never really gone away. And since the birth of the twins, whatever connection was there, it’s just got stronger, ramped up to new levels. I can feel it. It swirls around them like a living thing.
Mum just literally ran from that room. Her flushed demeanour, her heightened senses written all over her face. I don’t even want to imagine what has been said or done. But I know for sure, they need to be clear in what they want and they need to fucking ask her. Not do it by stealth, not creep around the edges, she’ll flay them alive.
As for me, I really am not bothered in the slightest. Whatever makes my mum happy makes me happy. And from what I can see, it’s simply an extension of their lives before and now. They were thick as thieves for years when they were young. Only time has separated them, their feelings for each other picked back up from where they left off. And it’s grown exponentially—harder, faster, more intense. I just hope for their own sakes that they don’t fuck it up. Again.
12
Xander
Brazil
I get myself under some semblance of control and follow Marcus out of the room. I feel buzzed, the high like nothing I’ve felt before.
She didn’t freak out and punch Marcus or me. I know she dashed out, but there were no tearful recriminations, no shouting or screaming. And there would’ve been. She’s not shy about telling us if she isn’t happy. We’ve been on the wrong end of that before. I just have to hope there’s no delayed reaction. That she doesn’t retreat into herself, or just away from me. I couldn’t bear it.
All this is running through my head as I exit the bedroom, looking for Kitten. But the first person I see is James. Staring at me like he’s going to kill me. Fuck, what’s up with him? Does he think I’ve done something to his mother?
I pick up Sorley out of his crib and head towards the balcony with him. Thank God for these babies, they’re a brilliant distraction.
Evie has Lochi and is moving towards the balcony, so I follow her out. The air is more humid outside than in with the air con. Not the best place to feed the twins, but the view of the beach is spectacular. There’s a parade going on down the road and you can hear the drums, even up here.
James follows us both out onto the balcony. “Shall I take him for a minute, Mum, so you can get a drink and set up?” He puts his arms out for Lochi, and smiles at the boy who looks just like him, but with different coloured eyes. Her eyes.
“They look like you James, poor little souls,” I say to both Evie and James. They smile at me, and fuck me, both Evie and James have the same smile. It lights up their eyes, and transforms James to more like Evie. No wonder Marcus struggles to deal with the boy if he’s hit with that everyday.
“Thanks, James. I am thirsty.” She kisses him and walks back inside, closing the doors.
I say nothing at first to see if he does, keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the baby in my arms. Then I remember he is a Greystone, masters of tactics. Oh, fuck it. I lift my eyes to his and go for broke.
“Spit it out, James. I can see your cogs whirring, but your mouth’s staying shut.”
He turns his intense eyes on me, so like Marcus it’s weird to see at times. Even though the stare is intense I’m not getting hostile vibes from him. Not at the minute anyhow.
“Uncle Jonno calls you fuckheads, did you know?”
His voice is mild. I’ve heard this tone before. In LA, when he was pissed at Marcus, and again in London. Evie used it just before all hell ripped loose in London and she ditched us and the Greystones. It never spells good news. I am on full alert.
“Yeah, he calls it to us directly. He’s not bothered about upsetting us.” I grin, trying to keep the mood light, applying my usual distraction techniques. Trying to telegraph everything I can’t get out. My body and mind are screaming at him.
He smiles at that. “Good, because what I’m going to say to you might be in that category.”
