INM 6 Part 6

I looked down involuntarily. One of the buttons around Brian’s stomach was missing from his white shirt, and the hem was sticking out of his pants. Through the gap I could see his well-defined abs. Even in such disheveled clothes, Brian closed off my escape route and took my breath away gently and precisely. What I needed more than anything was space to think clearly, and I needed it now, even if it meant sacrificing myself a little.

When I was unable to express my wish, Alexandra, who had been silently listening to our conversation, let out a growl that sounded exactly like a wild animal.

“Take a taxi home. I’ll have someone watch you until you get in the cab. That is the condition for you to leave this store, Luke. Is that okay with you, Brian?”

“Alexandra…”

Brian and I spoke at the same time again. I turned my eyes from Alexandra back to my childhood friend and he looked at Alexandra in shock.

“Why don’t you understand? This is a murder case. I’m not going to force my way into Luke’s house and stay there for a long time. I’m just asking you to let me take him home.”

“You really are Seth’s son. What you’re saying isn’t wrong.”

“Then…”

“But the truth doesn’t always save people.”

Without realizing it, I was staring fixedly at Alexandra. Feeling a dryness at the corner of my eye, I blinked rapidly. Alexandra turned around and lifted his strong chin toward the exit, leaving me standing there.

In that moment, I finally remembered how to breathe. I took a deep breath and turned away from Alexandra and Brian.

“Hey, Luke, don’t forget the deal my brother made.”

A drawn-out voice followed close behind me, and I heard the clatter of chairs and tables.

“I can’t believe you, Luke. How could you do this?”

“Brian, I’ll make sure she gets where she needs to go…”

“I’ve always wanted nothing more than your safety in this world, but you always trample all over my wishes. You never even consider how I feel.”

My childhood friend’s pained voice, filled with anger, hit me from behind. I couldn’t stop walking, and his cry of pain, too deep to be called mere anger, washed over me.

“I hate you.”

The device in my pocket vibrated.

Almost unconsciously, I reached for the light in the darkness. A small space in my hand was illuminated, dimly.

Two missed calls and one message. The sender of all of them was Kasim. The image of his smooth brown skin and clear blue eyes flashed through my mind, and I opened the message with a sense of desperation. I ran my eyes over the text, which clearly showed an effort to remain calm, and aimlessly traced my finger over it… then, giving up, I put the device to sleep without replying.

The young man had sent me an astonishing guess. If it had been the usual me, I would have jumped up and shouted nonsense.

For a while, I clutched the guess in my left hand, but my heart didn’t flutter. I stared blankly at the ceiling of the car. The car, driving through Brisbane at dusk, was dimly lit, enough to obscure the lower half of my body. But it wasn’t dark enough to find peace.

“Have you heard from your childhood friend yet?”

The dark mass next to me spoke. I had thought he was about the same height as Brian, but side by side I noticed that the mass next to me was slightly larger.

With great effort I managed to hold back a sigh.

“No. It was from another acquaintance.”

“Hmm.”

Leo, the dark mass that had arbitrarily summoned a car and crammed me inside, replied with a prolonged sound and shifted slowly. I felt uncomfortable and unreasonably irritated by the man’s inability to find a comfortable position on the seat.

“There was no need for you to come with me.”

“There was no need for you to go back alone. Our houses are in the same direction.”

“You haven’t had enough to drink, have you?”

Leo shrugged.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been bad to keep drinking with him as company.”

I answered with silence. It wasn’t intentional. The words just got stuck in my throat.

Interpreting my silence, Leo gave me a sideways glance.

“You may be worried about his last words, but I don’t think that big guy really hates you.”

Again I answered with silence. This time it was on purpose. I know that. You don’t have to tell me. I know Brian better than anyone in the world, maybe even better than his mother, Hannah.

A sharp pain shot through my chest as I remembered the man’s pained voice. What kind of face did he have at that moment? I had turned away and couldn’t imagine it, but just trying to imagine his face at that moment made my chest hurt.

I hate you.

I had let such cruel words come out of the mouth of my kind childhood friend.

I blame Brian for not trusting me and being selfish. I also blame him for not understanding.

But even I knew that he was just trying to protect me, even if he went about it the wrong way.

He’s not like me.

When he rejected me five years ago, I realized something. My feelings for Brian had been impure. I had felt such deep satisfaction when Brian pushed everyone else away. My feelings weren’t friendly at all. I was just happy to have him all to myself… Of course Brian would be disgusted by feelings like mine.

As I calmly remembered my shallow past, the device I had almost forgotten vibrated strongly in my hand. I lifted it slowly, mindful of the one next to me. A series of unfamiliar numbers appeared on the screen. 

I confirmed that Leo shrugged indifferently and pressed the call button.

“Hello?”

My lackluster voice was answered by a confident male voice.

“Hello, is this Lucas Potter? The interior designer?”

It was a deep, sincere sounding voice. The edges of the words were slightly theatrical, brimming with unwavering confidence, and it made me feel a little nauseous.

I felt a little more at ease when I heard his sincere voice and realized it was a business matter. I answered in a calm, professional tone.

“Yes, that’s me. Excuse me, but who are you?”

“Paul Maxwell.”

The man paused. He seemed to be saying that I should know who he was just by his name.

I had never heard his name before. But even my tired mind could quickly figure out who he was. Paul Maxwell, the third Maxwell to join Alan and Maria.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Sorry to interrupt your busy schedule, Mr. Potter. It seems that my son and wife were very fond of you. I wanted to express my gratitude.” 

The discrepancy between this smiling, sincere voice and the image of his father that Alan had often described made my head spin like gears trying to turn in opposite directions. Alan’s father had a very different voice than I had imagined. It was quiet, gentle, and polite. I couldn’t believe he was yelling at his son, taking away his precious things, and spying on him. 

I remembered Maria’s description of her husband as a “manly man”. I remembered the exterior of Maria’s house, which she had said reflected his taste, and which she had tried to use as a means of distancing Alan from her with her over-the-top interior design. Finally, the disparate images of him in my mind began to align, if only slightly. 

I offered my sincere condolences to the father who had lost his son.

“I was very sorry to hear about Alan.”

“Thank you.” Paul Maxwell’s voice became sad. It was the voice of a father mourning his lost son.

“I have heard from both of them that you interacted with my son while he was alive. I don’t know how to thank you enough, Mr. Potter. You must have had a positive influence on my son…”

“Well, I tried.”

Of course, prompted by the slightly questionable intonation of my answer, I replied with a small groan. I could feel Alan’s father smiling faintly on the other end of the line, apparently pleased with my answer.

“By the way, my wife has asked you to do some interior design for her, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Surprised by the sudden change of subject while maintaining a gentle tone, I hesitated a bit. Paul’s voice continued to soften.

“I’ve been doing a little research on you, and it seems you have a wonderful sense of style, Mr. Potter. You seem to be quite successful.”

“No, not really.”

“There is no reason to be modest. You’ve become an independent designer with a great reputation. You’ve even collaborated with famous architects. You’re also becoming known for your furniture and textile designs. And most of all, you’ve got good investors behind you.”

“You’ve really done your homework…”

I could only stammer in response, completely overwhelmed by Paul’s calm and steady words. Come to think of it, Maria had told me he was a lawyer. While I floundered, trying to figure out the intent of his conversation, the professional conversationalist simply took the reins and began to manipulate me.

Whether he noticed my confusion or not… no, he definitely noticed… Paul continued in a voice that could almost be described as cheerful.

“I’d like you to see my office. Oh, by the way, I’m a lawyer, you know. If I could incorporate even a tenth of the sense of style of the study in the model home you designed, the reputation of our old, unsightly office would surely improve”.

Once again, his words matched the image I had of his home. If I took this job from the lawyer, it would be terribly boring. I was sure of that. But it was still incredibly difficult for me to reconcile him with the image of the father Alan had described. I had thought that Alan’s father was more straightforward and crude, a selfish person who didn’t care about others. I never thought that he could speak so rationally and calmly and put others at ease. 

The words Alan had spat out, like blood and pus, were gradually coated with a thin film of his own father’s words, changing my impression of him.

As I fought inwardly to maintain my politeness, Paul’s voice lowered.

“It would have been easy for you to get a contract from my wife, Lucas.”