Not Much A Poet But A Criminal

-8-

It was 4am when Gerard returned home after his shift at the club. Surprisingly his girlfriend was still up watching TV. Either that or she'd woken up early enough to greet him when he arrived.

"Hey babe, how was work?" She called from the couch, not bothering to move or look up from the TV. They didn't live together, she just stayed over a lot. She had no ties to her apartment and her job had minimal hours, so she just lay around Gerard's place all day.

"Same as usual" Gerard replied, dropping his duffle bag onto the armchair and heading for the kitchen.

He was rummaging around in the fridge looking for a snack when he heard a shrill voice scream from the living room "What the fuck is this?"

Gerard ran into the room to find his girlfriend holding some of the clothing he wore onstage, along with a pair of Frank's boxers.

"Umm..." He didn't know how to start. Gerard had never told his girlfriend where he worked. She'd never asked either. As long as the couple had money to buy food and pay rent, she didn't care what he did. Or at least up until now she didn't.

"Gerard? Im waiting" She stared at him, her eyes not faltering.

"Michelle, I err..." He sighed, giving up on finding a lie and deciding on the truth.

"Look, you never asked where I worked, so I never thought of bringing it up. We have money coming in and that's all that matters"

"Gerard that's not what I'm asking. What the fuck is this? And whose boxers are these? I know you don't wear this kind, so where the fuck did they come from? The answer better be the fell in at the gym by accident"

"They're not from the gym. The clothes are mine" Gerard admitted.

Michelle frowned, then repeated her question "And who does the underwear belong to?"

Gerard hesitated before replying. He'd already fucked up one relationship with someone he had to see regularly, he couldn't afford to ruin his only other one. But he couldn't lie again.

"They're my bosses" He dropped his head in shame, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"They're your...You've got to be kidding me Gerard. Don't tell me you're fucking your boss?" She seemed more angry at the fact that he was sleeping with his boss, rather than the fact that he was cheating on her.

"Michelle we haven't had sex in weeks and we hardly speak anymore, I just couldn't help myself, I'm sorry" Gerard didn't know if he was truly sorry or just wanted to end the subject.

She didn't reply for a few minutes, closing her eyes and breathing slowly.

"It's that gay club the other side of town isn't it?" Michelle replied in a hushed tone.

"You've been working at a gay club and fucking your faggot boss for months, and god knows how many other fuckers who walk in there" Her voice started to rise again.

"Michelle please, just leave it ok?" Gerard defended, knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Oh I'm sorry Gerard, you want me to just drop the fact that you've been cheating on me with your gay boss since we met? That's not gunna happen, sugar" She snapped.

Gerard slumped into the armchair, his hands going to cover his face, tired from fighting.

"Michelle I think you should leave" He said quietly.

"Oh you're kicking me out?! Are you fucking serious?" She screamed, stepping closer to Gerard.

He remained calm, not looking up at her. "I don't want to fight Michelle, I'm sorry I fucked up, I understand you're hurt, but I'm too tired to fight, so I think you should just go home. We can talk this out tomorrow if you really want"