Skin #7 James Franco

We went to the mall together. Danny and I. He was in the form of the woman he was infatuated with… Shelby Balloon-cheeked Brickston. And I was boring old me. I used to find myself exotic and special because I of my half Caucasian and half Japanese heritage. Sure, I don’t speak a word of Japanese and I couldn’t even tell you the names of all the islands of Japan, but I wear my lineage in my face, in my skin, my thick black hair, my eyes. Rarely did I ever feel like a minority or deprived of anything by my looks, but today was one of the only days I wished I was “normal” and "boring".

I loved the way that Danny lit up when he talked about Shelby. It was beautiful the way his cheeks reddened, but I hated that he lit up because of her. He knew so much about her for only having known her for a short while. His eyes had this golden glow about them, it’s hard to explain.

We walked about the food court, trying to decide on pizza or tacos for lunch, we both had milkshakes in hand.

“hmmmm, I’m Shelby and although I have a taste for tacos, I want pizza because my breath will smell better and it’s less messy. But what I really want is salad, but they don’t have salads here. Is that really how girls think? Or is that just Shelby?”

“A little bit of both”

We grabbed pizza and sat down.

“You know, Jackie. You would probably love Shelby. I want you to meet her sometime. I mean. I’m her now, so you get a taste of her, but I’d love for you to REALLY meet her. She’s does a lot of interesting work in the herpetology department. She deal with a lot of odd cases like when a mysterious dead snake appears in a neighborhood, and she identifies what kind it is. Usually they are exotic pets that are abandoned after they’ve grown too big for the owners to handle. We get a lot of ball pythons. She also is going to teach a class on the evolution of reptiles next semester that I’m really excited for. She has a few theories that really challenge a lot of common theories about the four major groups of primitive reptiles that evolved from the labyrinthodont amphibians.” (I only know how to spell that because I looked it up)

“Well what does she do outside of work. What does she do for fun?”

“She likes to go camping in the summer, she does a service trip once a year to Haiti, she likes to read and she’s into candle making, randomly enough. She has this candle on her desk that is just exquisite. I didn’t realize it could be such an art form but it is! Her favorite candle scent is apple cinnamon. Oh and she has a younger brother who is as college in Arizona named Brian. They only get to see each other once or twice a year at holidays when they get together with all their aunts and uncles and cousins, but when they do see each other, they are very close.

It took me aback to discover how much he knew about her. Not just about her work, but her. And he loved to talk about her. I guess it just made me realize, while sitting there, that he knows nothing about me. I mean, come to think of it, I don’t think even knows where I work or what I do. Does he even know my last name? He doesn’t know that I like to camp too, and that I’ve never been to Haiti, that I only like to read romance novels, and that I really hate the smell of candles but I like the smell of incense. He doesn’t know that I’m an only child and that my mother died ten years ago, but my dad and I are still close?

I guess Shelby wasn’t that boring… she was intelligent and went on service trips, had hobbies. What did I have? I guess it made sense that Danny liked her. I guess I wish I were a bit like her: intelligent with a prestigious career, a full loving family, sandy hair. Instead I’m stuck at The Lotus Leaf with only half a college education.

I stared across at Danny as Shelby, and he was happy. She was happy. I thought I was happy, but I guess I’m not, not in the way they are. I watched Danny scarf down the pizza with those chubby balloon-cheeks and I sorta wanted the two of them to be together. Who was I to deserve Danny?

We got up and walked around looking at clothes and shoes. Danny stopped at a pair of light blue pumps, “This was the color sweater Shelby wore on our date. The color matches her light blue eyes perfectly! But she looks best when she wears this color…” he gestured to a pair of shiny light green espadrilles. “She has this one dress that she wore to a department luncheon and it just made her figure look like a goddess. Like Botticelli’s Venus sprung out of the sea foam… well, she wasn’t naked. But the dress made her figure….well I don’t have to explain myself…. This is awkward”

I changed the subject somewhat angrily.

“So why did you need to bring me along. What exactly are we doing here?”

“To figure out what kind of guy Shelby wants.

“How do we do that?”

Danny took my hand in his… a woman’s hand in a woman’s, and pulled me into the center square of the mall and sat us down on the fountain ledge. “We watch, and wait until I’m interested in a guy.”

“How does that work, do you take on the perception of other people as well when you change?”

“When I’ve met the person and know them, yes. A part of their personality comes with the skin, so if as the form of Shelby, I have a direct idea of how she thinks.”

I rolled my eyes. Someone had left an issue of People magazine on the ledge, so I fingered through it while Danny “watched and waited”.

“See that guy to the right, he’s too sloppy… He’s attractive and all but look at the way he dresses… a band T-shirt and jeans? Not our type.”

I didn’t like how he said, “our type” Like he was both Shelby and Danny at the same time.

Barely looking up from the magazine I pointed to the left, what about the dude with the red shirt?

“Too old. Plus he’s looking at the jewelry store window. We don’t like guys who buy jewelry for other people. Jewelry is a private matter.”

“That’s odd.” It was hard for me to play this game. I felt so uncomfortable. I just wanted to go home and get away from Danny/Shelby.

Danny peered over my shoulder at the article about James Franco I was reading. See, here’s a guy Shelby would like! He’s attractive, talented, scholarly. What if I were James Franco?

“You can’t be…” Before I could finish my sentence he was off. No way did I think he was going to change in the bathroom. What would he do with the skins?

I flipped through the magazine nervously until I felt someone sit down next to me. I turned my head expecting to see James Franco. But instead it was the man in the T-shirt and jeans that Danny/Shelby said was too slobby looking.

“Oh, hi, you made me jump, I was expecting to see my friend.”

“Didn’t mean to make you jump. I was wondering if you happened to know if there was an Apple store anywhere in this mall. I’ve never been to this mall before.”

“Oh, yeah, I think there’s one by the Macys.” I pointed towards the store.

The man nodded his head and smiled, but he didn’t say thank you and he didn’t leave. He jabbered on about some really mundane things like the weather and The Bears, and Halloween. I had a hard time paying attention to him, and I didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t stringing words together quite well, or if I was distracted still keeping an eye open for Danny. It seemed like this man wanted to ask something else. There was a lull in his blabbering and finally he blurted out,

“Actually, the real reason I came over here was to talk to you, I know it’s forward, and I don’t normally do this, but I saw you and your friend staring at me, and I thought you were cute. And I wanted to ask if…”

It suddenly dawned on me that this man thought I was attractive and wanted to ask me out. And what was more is that he didn’t find Shelby attractive, he found ME attractive. ME. I looked him up and down. He wasn’t a bad looking guy. I started to wish I had paid more attention to him when he was talking before.

“Well, I wanted to ask if…” He repeated. And before he could ask his damn question, Mr. Clueless finally comes strutting across the Mall center in all his James Franco glory, making heads turn and girls whisper, “Jackie! Jackie! Hey, pretty girl! What do you think!” He called to me.

I whipped my head around and saw him beam at me, his squinty eyes, his wide pearly smile, wavy coffee brown hair, and wearing a sexy blazer to top it all off. Normally I would be ecstatic that Danny made a sexy show in public and making people think that I’m his girl. Also, did he really call me “pretty girl?” But I wanted to punch him in those well defined cheek bones.

The man in the t-shirt stood up abruptly and stammered, “Oh, I didn’t realize you were taken. Well, ummm…. Have a good day. I’m off to the Apple Store I guess.” And darted away.

I wish I could have stopped him. I wish I could have called him to come back, but then I saw Danny, and those deep intelligent James Franco eyes and I lost myself in them. He smiled.

“I think Shelby’s going to love this new skin of mine!”

We took the bus home without saying a word to one another. The few times people stopped him for autographs were a relief to me so I could get away from him. Even now, that I’m home alone, and he’s out at the library or something lame like that, I want nothing more than for him to stay out of the house until I leave for work in a couple hours.

I hate that I like Danny so much. I hate that he cares so much about Shelby and knows so much about her, yet he doesn’t even know my last name! I hate that someone finally tried to hit on me, and he was probably a great guy too, and Danny ruined it, and I hate that I didn’t really care that he ruined it. I wish I were boring and sandy haired with a few diplomas under my belt like Shelby, and I hate that I want to be like her. I hate that I want to be like her because of a guy… a stupid clueless guy who doesn’t even know my last name. I hate that I used to look into the mirror and love myself, and that now I wish I were a shape shifter like Danny.

Skin #6: Shelby Brickston

I had never seen Danny so depressed as he was when he got back from his date with Shelby last night. He walked in as Mo Patel, his head hung low, and if he had a tale, it would be hung between his legs in shame.

I turned down the TV and asked how it went. I doubted he’d want to talk, but he plopped down on the opposite end of the couch. Shaking his head, and I put my hand on his shoulder, thinking he might start to cry, but he stood up the moment I touched him and slipped into a frustrated rage.

“You know, if she didn’t want to go on a date with me, she could have just said so in the first place!”

“Calm down, Danny. What happened?” He didn’t calm down.

“Well I thought the dinner went well! I took her to an Italian place strategically placed right across from a cute little park, and I asked if she wanted to go for a walk with me. And do you know what she said?”

Honestly, for as clueless as Danny was about things, I expected him to take her on a date to a wrestling match and ask if she wanted to go for ice cream afterwards. I was a bit impressed with his low-key choice. “No, what did she say?”

“She said, ‘Danny, I like you. I really do. And I had a lot of fun tonight. BUT... and as a sidenote I hate buts. They always turn a good sentence into a bad one! BUT… I don’t think I should go on a walk with you. I don’t want to lead you on. I know it would be all romantic and you’d probably kiss me under the stars or give me your jacket when I started to get cold… but I just don’t feel anything for you. I’m sorry.”

“Ouch. That’s rough.” I tried to muffle my loud smile.

“And THEN she goes on to tell me that the other reason is that she just started using Match.com as a way to find guys. She said she feels that it’s much more methodical and productive than to only date guys you happen to pass by in your daily life! What a load of bullcrap!”

I have to say, “bullcrap” the closest thing to swearing I think I’ve ever heard Danny blurt out from anger. It took all my energy not to smile, but somehow I suppressed it and tried to comfort him.

“Look, sometimes people just don’t have chemistry. Sparks don’t always fly when we want them to, and sometimes they burst in flamey radiance when we don’t want them to!” Wow, I sort of sounded wise didn’t I? I should start an advice column.

Danny began to unclench his fists, and his breathing appeared to be returning to normal human speeds. He plopped down on the floor, cross-legged like a kindergartener during story time.

“Shelby is just a very logical thinker. And maybe I need to use this knowledge to my advantage in order to make the sparks fly. I need to start thinking more logically.”

He said nothing after that. He just sat motionless on the floor staring out into space. I called out his name a few times. “Danny?” “Danny, you ok?” but he responded with nothing more than a head nod. I turned up the TV and continued watching reruns of America’s Next Top Model.

So that was last night. This morning I met Shelby Brickston. The moment I got out of bed, threw on my robe and hobbled into the kitchen for coffee, a strange woman bounded in from Danny’s room with a huge smile on her face and a plate full of cranberry muffins. My jaw dropped. Danny had gotten some woman to come here and sleep with him between Midnight and 9 AM? I was heartbroken, disgusted, furious, and, God… I needed coffee! I reached for the coffee scoop like it was a rapier and scooped in that coffee like my life depended on it. Maybe I would make it an Irish coffee this morning.

The stranger plopped herself down at the kitchen table, and opened her bag of muffins, “Hi! I’m Shelby! It’s a pleasure to meet you!” She stretched her hand out to me. I pretended to busy myself with the coffee and not see her hand.

“Danny’s mentioned you to me. How late did you come in last night? I must have fallen asleep at 12 or 1, you had to have come in after that.”

The stranger named Shelby giggled. I didn’t like her cheeks. They were so round and shiny when she smiled. Like peach colored balloons. I wanted to pop them. She had shoulder-length sandy hair, rather boringly styled, if she had it styled at all, she did have bangs cut straight across her forehead, but that made her even more boring. THIS was the woman Danny was so obsessed with? She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t pretty… she was the plainest looking woman I’ve ever seen. She was short, she did have curves… nice boobs and hips but with a bit of pudge gathering at the waist and under the arms.

“Wait, is that a serious question or are you just kidding?” She asked. She had a voice that was just slightly too high-pitched for my liking. She offered me a muffin and I shook my head ‘no’. I wanted coffee. I wanted Danny to come out of his room and spare me the awkwardness of talking to this annoying pudgy-cheeked woman.

“I’m serious. I didn’t hear you come in, when did Danny have you come over here? 3AM?”

Maybe she didn’t spend the night, maybe she came here this morning? But who visits at 9 in the morning?

“Jackie, as much as I’d love to mess with your head, because it would be hilarious, I won’t because I have business to attend to… Jackie, it’s me, Danny. I don’t know why you think I’m actually Shelby.”

I felt like my heart flew up and got lodged in my esophagus. This wasn’t actually Shelby! She hadn’t spent the night! This was Danny.

“Danny, you can shape shift into women?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“But, you’re a guy.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You’ve always been men in the past, and not to be awkward but I’ve seen your dick.”

“But I’m a shape shifter. I can make myself whatever I want to be. I don’t get why this is such a shock to you.

I must have sounded angry. I took in a deep breath. This raised such a bizarre fundamental question that I had never even THOUGHT to attach to this man of mysteries. Was he even male? IF he can shift into anything, does he even have a gender? Does it matter? Maybe it doesn’t. But why does it bother me so much all the same?

“So you are not a male?”

“I’m a male”

“But you are also female?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“But you like women… you know… sexually?”

“I like women. But if I wanted to like men, I could. You remember that black man I was when you first saw me change? That was my first lover. Don’t I have great taste?!”

I hoped that something he said would unlodge my heart from my esophagus, but it was wedged there, like a sharp potato chip you can’t get unstuck from your throat. So he was bisexual… AND transsexual. That explains his hugely masculine but also hugely feminine tendencies.

“So, if I may ask. Why do you usually choose the form of a male then? And your name, why do you have a man’s name versus a woman’s?”

“Danny is short for Daniel, But it is also short for Danielle.”

It had never hit me before, but why would it. I thought he was a man.

“And I usually choose the form of a male because in a lot of ways, it’s easier for a man to have fun. There are also many more male celebrities that I want to impersonate than women. And also women are more beautiful than men. It’s the truth. So in this way, I’m able to have more fun and date the beautiful sex!”

I didn’t like that he thought men had more fun. Women have fun too. I mean, maybe in the dark ages it would have been better to be a man so you could ride horses and not be turned into baby-making machines… but now, women have tons of fun! Ah, it still infuriates me. Perhaps I’ll rant about this one later.

“Why are you in the form of Shelby. You want to date her, not be her.”

“I’m glad you asked that! I took the day off to figure out what type of guy Shelby would like. I’m going to spend a day in her skin. And I’m going to do all the things that Shelby likes, and find out who would be her perfect guy before I beg her to go on a second date. And best of all, you’re going to come with me!”

Girl time with Danny in the form of the Balloon-Cheeks? Gross. There are a thousand other terrible things I would gladly do first: like lay in a bed of scorpions, eat McDonalds burgers for a month, lose my mother’s wedding ring. But being that scorpions don’t live in Illinois, and that the McDonalds by my house is undergoing renovations for the next month, and I already lost my mother’s wedding ring last year, I have nothing better to do with my day than spend it with Danny/Shelby.

After he gets back from the bank, we’re heading off to the mall. Oh boy.

Skin #5: Mo Patel

The hype from the Tomahawk Copycat Killer is starting to get buried beneath other more tragic news on TV hailing more bodies with stories and names attached to them. A subway accident on the red line, an arson who burnt down his family’s flat, the governor cheating on his wife. I’m surprised to see my anxiety from the bar incident fade so quickly. Perhaps Danny was right, perhaps our justice system will only pursue the matter if there are names attached to the bodies, and families looking for them. What is the legal worth of people who have no identity or people who care about them?

Danny has been in a peculiar state all week. Actually, he’s been acting more feminine than usual. First, he’s been baking every night: cookies, muffins, cupcakes, and a pumpkin pie. Not that I’ve reaped any benefits from the delicious food- he brings them all to work at the University. He’s also been watching a streak of chick flicks. He made me sit down and watch “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days”, let me tell you, that is the dumbest love story I’ve ever seen. Danny is so funny when he watches movies, any movie. He sits on the edge of the couch as if he were watching a touchdown, he’s like a puppy with tongue drooling out at every little thing, It’s as if he’s never seen the world before. It kind of makes me uneasy, honestly! “Just relax,” I tell him. He argues that he already is. Towards the end of “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days” when the guy and the girl are at the fancy banquet and find out that they both have bets on each other, I looked over at Danny and I swear he was going to burst from his skin!

He’s also been talking a lot about work lately, which is such a stark contrast from usual. Apparently he’s been working on a couple projects at the university, including one involving hognose snakes. I’d never heard of hognosed snakes before but apparently when threatened they attack aggressively and spit and hiss and act cobra like, but when aggression fails they play dead. I guess Danny is working on studying snake behavior and seeing how it changes in different environments to study the snake’s breaking point…. When does the snake decide that aggression must change tactics and play dead. I couldn’t help but think about how Danny is when he feels threatened or in a jam, how he tenses up and molts into a different skin. Then I felt awful for comparing him to a snake… I still feel awful about it!

(Here's a photo I found on google images of a hognose snake. I don't know who Kelly Jones is but she takes better photos of snakes than a lot of other people)

Yesterday, I came home from work and I saw him in a skin I’d never seen before. He was of Indian decent with long wavy hair to his shoulders, wearing rectangular thin wired glasses.

I found him leaning over the kitchen counter intensely studying over a recipe book.

“What are you making?”

“A cake… it’s Shelby’s birthday tomorrow”

“Someone at work I take it?”

“Yup”

“So, what skin is this and why are you in it?”

“Oh, you’ve never met Mo Patel have you?

“I guess not…” I said slowly.

“I’m Dr. Mohinder Patel, Please call me Mo.”

“Hello Mo…” I giggled.

This is who Danny is at work, I assumed. I knew he had to be a doctor or a professor of some sort to work at the university. I guess it just never really dawned on me that he would have a complete different character identity there. I’m always asleep by the time he leaves work in the morning, so I never see how he is…. Dressed.

“I just got so worked up in ‘The Notebook’ and then getting this cake done by tomorrow that I forgot to change into Heath Ledger for you. Do you want me to?”

“No it’s ok, Danny,” I smiled. I liked how he worded that… ‘change into Heath Ledger for you.’

So, did you just make up this character or is Mo Patel from some movie I’ve never seen.

“A bit of both. I don’t think I’m creative enough to come up with a persona of my own. I have to borrow others. This one is based off of the character Mohinder Suresh from Heroes. Did you ever see that show?

I shook my head ‘no’. I had heard of it, to be sure. It was real big a few years back.

“Aw it’s good stuff! Watch the first season, if nothing else. The second got butchered by the writer’s strike, and I don’t want to even talk about the third. The show is kind of like X-Men in that the human race develops mutations in the form of super powers, and Mohinder is this awesome scientist who doesn’t have powers but studies and admires them and helps out the various mutants. Anyways… I based off my persona at work off of him.”

“Is that what you are? Are you like an x-men?” I asked. I had to.

He rubbed his forehead and tapped his foot nervously a bit.

“I don’t know.” He said.

“Well I’m curious. You still have told me barely anything about you.”

“I literally don’t know.”

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? How can you not know what you are? I don’t believe you.”

“Jackie, I wish I had something to tell you. I wish I could tell you that I am the product of the human race evolving and there are others hidden around the world with gifts like mine, or that I was a freak science experiment in Frankenstein’s lab, or that a spaceship dropped me off like an orphan at Earth’s doorstep, but I can’t. And it kills me that I can’t. I wish I had pictures of my mother and father and brothers and sisters, but I don’t; or a necklace left with me as a baby with some cryptic message of where I came from. Sometimes I feel a bit like Clark Kent in good old Smallville, without knowledge of where he came from or what he is and why…. except he at least knew he was from outer space. I know even less. Now, do you know how to whip a good frosting, because I need to finish this cake tonight for Shelby’s birthday tomorrow. I need to make a good impression on her because I think I’m going to ask her out on a date!”

My heart stopped. Like the hand on a watch face ceasing to tick.

I wanted to bite my lip until it bled, or run into my room, but instead I construed my face like a woman does into an excited smile, the intonation in my voice raised a higher peg.

“Oh, Danny! That’s so exciting. Of course I’ll whip this frosting up for you.”

I calmed down a bit as I whipped the frosting. It's just one date. It's not like Danny and I are a couple. We are roommates. He hasn't gotten a chance to know me. He can go on dates with other people for a while. He'll come around.

“I can plop in a movie while we bake!" He exclaimed. Have you seen ‘When Harry Met Sally’? I have to return it tomorrow.”

Yes, I had seen When Harry Met Sally. I had seen When Harry Met Sally 77 thousand times and could recite the whole thing from memory right now if you asked me. I lived When Harry Met Sally. Yes, I had seen the movie. Clearly, Danny had not.

(Here's a picture of the cake we made for Shelby. Danny E-mailed it to me today from work with the message, "She loved it! And she said YES!")

Skin #4: George Harrison

I think about Danny a lot. More than I should. I should stay focused on getting out of The Lotus Leaf and getting a REAL job. But he distracts me. I have a shapeshifter as a roommate! I feel that it’s just hitting me now for the first time.

Clearly, there’s more out there than we know. Whether Danny is part of the supernatural or alien, there’s more out there… and now I find myself reading up on cryptozoology in my spare time. It’s exhilarating to find out that the world is not as dull as I previously thought, but I’m also a bit frightened. Yes, I believe that’s the word: Frightened. I’m a bit afraid of Danny, but that’s what makes him so mysterious and intriguing. He’s like a riddle I must solve. I’ve never been much of a scientist or anything so I’m not interested in all the finer points of how it works… but he himself is a riddle and I’m intoxicated by him the more I think about him... his eyes, his smile… trying to find a constant in an ever-changing man.

We crossed paths today. It was mid afternoon and I was watching "Dirty Dancing" while folding laundry, and he shuffled in with guitar in hand. He brushed long hair swoopy hair from his face grinned. If the hair didn’t give it away, the thick dark eyebrows did.

“Which Beatle are you?”

“George Harrison. Isn’t it obvious?”

I’m sorry that I’m not THAT acquainted with the Beatles. I recognized that he was a Beatle isn’t that good enough? I was surprised to find him in such a pleasant mood as if the incident on Saturday night never happened, and neither had the avoidance. He just plopped down on the couch next to me and started to restring the guitar.

“Don’t you have work today?” I asked.

“I skipped. I found out that a local Beatles cover band lost their guitarist and I volunteered to cover for ‘im until they found a permanent replacement, so I ditched work to fix up my ol guitar and relearn how to play. Cool eh?”

It dawned on me that even though we’ve lived together for over a month, I didn’t really know what he did. As in… what he did for work when he wasn't gallivanting around the city impersonating various celebrities. For all I knew, he could be working for the government using his gift to impersonate people and gather valuable information. I asked him and he told me that he works part-time at the university doing herpetology experiments. He didn’t tell me what he does the other part of the time.

“So you just stroll in here and act as if nothing happened?”

“Something ‘as happened?

Yes, he really said that. With a genuinely blank face and a terrible British accent.

“Yes, of course something happened!" I shouted, "On Saturday. The cops found your skins in the garbage. They think it’s murder. It was on the news! Thank god they haven’t found the second set of skins in the bushes… It’s only a matter of time. You need to explain what’s going to happen!”

He sighed as he calmly cut the remnant guitar string off,

“Nothing’s going to happen. Don’t worry. They won’t find me. Plus there’s no need to worry because there is no murder. It will all disappear because there’s no family looking for a dead person. The buzz will all die down. You’ll see.”

“There’s a lot of hype over this one. They say that it follows the same pattern of the Tomahawk Killer in Connecticut 5 years ago… 4 discarded skins from separate unidentified victims found in dumpsters and forests. The killer who skinned his victims alive, but none of the victims had names. Where did you live before San Francisco?”

“Key West”

“And before that?”

“Copenhagen”

“And before that?”

“Cancun”

“Are you just toying with me, or do you really just flee from place to place?

“Before I lived in Cancun, I was in Connecticut. That’s what you want to know isn’t it?”

“So you’re the supposed Tomahawk Killer then? Am I right?”

“What do you want me to do huh? Stop being who I am just because people freak out when they see a bit of skin? I’m not a murderer! So it’s not wrong for me to do what I do!”

I’d never seen him so worked up before. I felt bad for rousing him up so much, but I had to know, and that’s what I told him. I told him that his actions affected me too, and I had a right to know these things. I’m right… right? Isn’t it my right? He is sharing my roof. He’s putting me in risk if the police ever lead the skins back to Danny and this apartment.

He just strung the guitar not saying a word. His red face slowly returning to its natural color.

“You’re accent is terrible.”

“I know, it’s rubbish isn’t it? I’ve always had trouble with Limey accents and I could never quite get it down.” He smiled

“Thank you.” He said after a pause, “Thank you for putting up with me, for your discretion in the matter, and for helping me get out of that bar without changing. It really…. I….. Well….. Just thanks.”

He plucked at the guitar strings, never looking up at me. Perhaps he was a bit too embarrassed to face me, perhaps that’s why he avoided me for these past few days. The way he said “thank you”… he said it so soft and reverently as if he’d never said the words before and had only dreamed of their meaning. Perhaps he is not used to kindness. Maybe I mean something to him. It still frustrates me that I know so little about him, but I guess what frustrates me even more is that he knows even less about me… and I don’t have any big secrets.