Billy Carter

Chapter 4.5: Annabelle Morris

I spent a good two hours in my ensuite doing my makeup and perfecting my hair. Initially I was going to have my black locks down, styled carefully around my face to hide all the lovebites on my neck Billy had given me last night.
Then I remembered my parents wouldn't notice anyway.
So, I put it up instead, showing off the bruises proudly - I wanted to remind him of our late-night activities, just in case he'd drunk too much to remember. Cynthia had told me on the phone that she'd seen him in hospital earlier this morning and he couldn't remember much of last night. Poor Billy. Only he would find a way to land himself in hospital overnight.
I'd been curious lately about what sort of house Billy lived in, what posters he'd have up on his wall and if kept his washing in a basket or on a heap at the foot of his bed. I had known he wasn't well off - I didn't know just how much though.
Until I saw his house, and I swallowed the guilt that welled up in me. I double-checked the address he'd given me, just in case I was at the wrong house. But I wasn't.
The roof looked like it leaked. Paint was chipping off splintery wooden window frames, and the weatherboards were certainly well-weathered. The concrete path leading up to the front door was cracked and un-even in places were the ground below it had sunk. I had to be careful not to trip as I walked up to the front door. It was battered and beaten and creaked eerily as I knocked on it.
It's not that bad, I thought to myself. You're just too used to villas and holiday estates in the Swiss Alps.
Billy answered the door then, and I grinned up at his handsome, gorgeous, bruised face.
"Hi Billy!" I said happily, and he smiled back at me, stepping aside to let me in.
"Hey Annabelle, how're you?" he asked me, and I stepped over the threshold.
"I'm great! How about you? I heard you spent the night in hospital." I frowned at him with concern, and picked a bit of lint off his shirt just to have an excuse to touch him.
"I'm just fine. Figured it'd be a good idea to keep drinking after I got home last night. I was wrong," he blushed awkwardly and didn't meet my eyes as he spoke, only to glance back cautiously - as if to see if I believed him. I laughed at his adorable awkwardness - one of my favourite things about him - and looked up at him.
"You're an idiot Bill - a cute idiot, but still an idiot," I told him. I looked over his shoulder and saw an adult who had to be Billy's father. Well, step-father. He had brown hair that was slowly greying, and a handsome, rugged face. He was tall and had a big, muscular physique. Honestly, if he was half his age... Well, Billy's mum has good taste.
I turned to him and extended my hand out to him, a friendly smile on my face. "Hi! It's lovely to meet you, I'm Annabelle."
He returned my smile and shook my hand with his rough, heavily calloused one. He must work in a trade, I thought. My assumption was backed up by the apparent plumbing he was finishing up at the kitchen sink.
"Steven Carter," he introduced himself. "It's nice to meet you too, lass. Call me Steve."
"Sure! Whatcha doing there, Steve?" I asked, examining the tools and bits and bobs scattered around the kitchen floor and countertop.
"Billy was just helping me fix the sink," Steve told me, gesturing to the sink behind him.
"Oh, shit," Billy looked up at his step-father apologetically. "Sorry Dad, I meant to tell you Annabelle was coming over. I'm teaching her piano," he explained.
"Oh, alright," Steve turned to me, smiling proudly as he spoke: "He's good, this one. You'll be playing Beethoven and Mozart's masterpieces in no time with 'im teaching you."
"Great!" I laughed as we both turned to smile at Billy, who was running a hand through his hair absentmindedly as he flushed a muted pink.
"Well I'll let you two get on with it while I tidy up here," Steve said.
"Great, thanks Dad," Billy said.
"Bye Steve," I gave him a small wave as Billy led me through the living room, up a creaky old staircase and across the landing to his bedroom.
"Forgive the mess, I haven't had time to clean," he told me, fidgeting. I felt bad that he seemed nervous, but I'll admit I felt a little bit smug about it too.
"That's alright, you should see my room - clothes everywhere," I said casually, trying to put his mind at ease. "Besides, it's not dirty or anything."
"No, s'not," he mumbled, kicking a gross old bowl under his bed as he spoke. "Just disorganised, really."
I gave him a wry smile. "Well, I brought the textbook my last piano teacher was using," I told him, holding the book up as I spoke. "I don't know if you'll use it, but I figured it couldn't hurt." I offered it to him and he took it, examining the cover.
"No, it's perfect, this is the same book I learnt from," he told me. "Alright, sit down here and show me where you're up to," he instructed, bringing me over to an old IKEA desk with a ratty, most likely secondhand (or third) electric keyboard. I had a secret though - I already know how to play piano. In fact I'm quite good. These lessons were just an excuse to spend time with him.
He taught me for an hour - a tortuous hour of playing dumb and trying not to get distracted by his closeness or his gorgeous eyes and face and voice and his smell. I didn't know if it was a deodorant, cologne, aftershave, his own personal scent or a combination of two or more, but I wanted that shit bottled and sold to me in bulk. It wasn't just all that physical stuff that had me all pathetic - it was the way he occasionally stumbled over a word when he was trying to explain something to me, the way he combed his thick hair off his face with his fingers, how he'd slip a wry joke into the conversation - he had a weird, often-times dark sense of humour, but my goodness, was he clever and funny. He was so patient and kind - after we finished our lesson and were settled on his bed for a chat, our conversation flowed so naturally. Maintaining eye contact was not his strong suit, but I liked the way he would glance at me every now and then only for his gaze to quickly flicker away again, as if he was doing something he shouldn't be. It was sweet.
"Then Victoria walked straight into the lamp post!" I told him - or tried to, since I was laughing so hard at the memory I doubted he could really make out what I was saying. He laughed though, and it was genuine. "So what do you make of Victoria anyway?" I asked him after I'd settled down, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes and cheeks. He frowned at me, looking confused.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "She's alright, I guess," he shrugged.
"She really fancies you," I told him.
"Yeah, I know," he said nonchalantly.
"You do?" I asked. I was a little bit surprised, to be honest. Billy's fairly oblivious - even more so than usual, for a boy. I mean he's best friends with Ollie and he still doesn't suspect Ollie has a huge crush on him. Hell, I could tell that even before Kenny's friend Sean outed Oliver (he used Kenny's email account to do it though, so everyone thought Kenny was the culprit. Kenny didn't bother to tell the truth though - Sean would have been expelled for sure with his horrible permanent record.
"Yeah," Billy sighed, dragging me out of my thoughts and back to reality. "But I don't see her like that," he continued; "I'm not really interested."
Good, I thought. Less competition.
"Jenny said you were checking her out in Advanced Music last Thursday," I told Billy.
"Was I?" He asked.
"Yeah, she said you were looking down her shirt."
He suddenly snorted with laughter; "Oh, yeah." I raised my eyebrows at him and he began to backtrack. "I mean, it was an accident. Her button was undone and I didn't mean to."
"Sure," I said, not really believing him. "Anyway I think I stepped in it last night," I sighed. He frowned again, cute as ever.
"What do you mean?"
"Well we snogged - you and I, I mean, not Victoria and I. I shouldn't have done that to her. I didn't know that she liked you though, not until after you and Cynthia left the party last night and Jenny told me," I told him, feeling a pang of guilt. I honestly hadn't known that Victoria fancied Billy, but even now that I did I wasn't going to stop pursuing him. Should I back off though? I've liked Billy for a while, and Victoria and I have never been close.
"Oh," Billy said. "But that's not your fault. That- oh. I think actually I may have stepped in it," he sighed. "I knew she liked me, but I didn't realise..." he didn't finish his thought and sighed again, looking absolutely wracked with guilt.
"It's alright, she'll get over it," I assured him. Come on, enough sulking. Time to heat things up a notch. I dropped my gaze to Billy's neck and grinned, feeling quite pleased when I saw I hadn't been the only one to wake up with hickies this morning.
"What?" he asked, frowning in concern and feeling his neck.
"I gave you a hickey," I explained, leaning forward and touching the mark on his neck lightly with my finger tips.
"Really?" He laughed. "What about you?"
"Oh, I've got a few actually," I blushed - for show - and shifted my blouse to show him the marks on my neck, shoulders, and lastly on my chest, right at the top of my left breast.
"Hey, that one looks like a heart." He leaned over and squinted at it. "I should start practising shapes."
Oh, he made it way too easy for me. "Well, if you want..." I tilted my head and looked up at him through my eyelashes. He grinned and we both leaned in until we were kissing. I got caught up in his touch and smell and body heat - it was beautiful, he was beautiful, and the kissing was exceptional. I ended up underneath him, one arm over his neck and shoulders and the other hand on his face while we snogged. I started kissing his neck and he moaned quietly in my ear before sitting back to look at me with a pained expression.
"Don't do this to me Annabelle, I can't," he said, sounding heartbroken. "I feel like shit - the last thing I want to do is vomit all over you."
"Oh, well, that's fair enough then," I said in understanding. I was still a little bit disappointed, but at least I knew that he wanted me. "What if, um, we switch positions? Would that be better?" I asked hopefully. He shook his head and kissed the tip of my nose.
"I'm sorry Annabel, I don't think that'll make much of a difference."
"Alright then," I sighed. "How about we cool off then?"
"Alright."
We stopped and had a bit of a chin wag for about half an hour before we ended up snogging again. Then we had to take another break, because Billy was getting a headache.
Poor thing.
Around dinner time I finally told him that I had to go home.
"You don't want to stay a bit longer?" he asked me, sounding disappointed.
"I do, but I have to go," I told him. "Maybe we could hang out again? Outside of piano lessons?"
"Sure. Maybe after dinner tomorrow you could come over? We'll watch a movie or something," he suggested.
"How about you take me out on a real date?" I asked, giving him a little kiss.
"Yeah, I'd like to, but I don't really have a lot of money," he said, and remembering the state of the house we were in and all the old, cheap furniture that was scattered about where required, I felt bad for asking him. "I've got fifteen quid to my name," he continued.
I had an idea and got up to get my handbag. I found my purse and took out fifty quid for him. "That's for the piano lesson," I told him, giving him the money. "Maybe you can think of something to do with it." I gave him a wink. "I've really got to go now," I told him, and gave him one last, drawn-out goodbye kiss. "Ollie's coming over after tea to study," I explained. He seemed to pale, but I shrugged it off as a trick of the light. "I'll see you tomorrow!" I told him cheerily, and let myself out of his room and then downstairs (where I said goodbye to Steve as I passed him, who was working on his outdated laptop in the living room) and out of the house all together (saying a quick hello and goodbye to Nelly as I left).
My driver Antonio was waiting in my Porsche at the side of the road.
"Hi again!" I greeted him cheerily as I climbed in the backseat.
"Good afternoon Miss Morris," he replied. "Where are we off to?"
"Home, I think." Antonio nodded and set off, and I turned to my phone. "Hey, Siri?" I asked aloud.
"What can I help you with?" Siri answered.
"Ring Cynthia Addams," I ordered. I heard the phone start ringing and spared a glance at the screen to confirm I was ringing Cynthia.
"Hey Annabelle , what's up honey?" Cynthia's voice answered over loud speaker.
"I just finished my piano lesson with Billy," I told her.
"How'd it go? I just got off the phone with Ollie."
"Really good - I think."
"What's that mean?"
"Well, we got along really great and talked about shite and all that - he's a good teacher, actually. And we snogged a bit, but he wasn't feeling so good. Nausea and headaches and all that," I told her.
"He must be crook," Cynthia agreed.
"Well, I hope so. I mean, not that I want him to be ill, just that I hope it's not me," I explained.
"Of course. I'm sure it's not you Annabelle, he's always been crazy about you - I can tell by how nervous and shy he gets around you. Maybe that's just it - he's nervous. Or maybe he really is sick."
"Yeah, that's a good point." I sighed nervously and flexed my fingers. "God Cynthia, I'm not saying this to be bitch, but I had no idea just how poor his family is!" I exclaimed. "I just thought they were, you know, lower-middle class or something."
"I told you they were poor."
"I thought perhaps you were exaggerating." I sighed. "I feel bad. I told him to take me out on a real date, you know, like out at a restaurant or something? He told me he only had, like, £20 to his name or something. I hope I didn't embarrass him."
"I'm sure he hasn't taken any offence - and if he did, he always gives the benefit of the doubt, so I'm sure he wouldn't have taken it personally."
"Yeah... if he says anything to you, you'll let me know, won't you?"
"Of course."
"Do you have any plans for dinner? We should go out somewhere. We could catch a movie, if you'd like," I offered.
"Sure, but I have to be home before it gets too late."
"No problem babe. I'll come pick you up now?"
"Yeah, if you're ready. I'll just double-check with mum and dad."
"Sure." I heard quiet rustling and static through the speakers as Cynthia held the phone away from her face. Then I could hear muffled voices - Cynthia speaking to her parents. I knew I wouldn't need to check with my parents. They didn't keep track of my comings and goings - as long as it didn't affect their work schedules. That's also why I have Antonio - to ferry me around since my parents are always unavailable and I'm too young to get my license.
"Ok, I can come," Cynthia told me.
"Great! I'll see you soon then," I replied.
"Bye."
"Bye." The line went dead as Cynthia hung up.
"New plan Antonio," I told him. "We're going to pick up Cynthia." I gave him her address and then turned my attention to the Ariana Grande song playing on the radio as we drove to Cynthia's house. I didn't usually travel through the poorer parts of London, but soon enough I found myself back in the familiar, wealthier suburbs most of my friends and I called home. Cynthia lived here, Kenny, Rose and Meredith lived here, and Jennifer, Natalie, Ollie, Tony and Trent weren't too far away either. Passing all the gorgeous houses made me think of Billy's house again, and it made me feel sad. He and his family deserved more than that, but I didn't know how to help. It's not like I could donate my old clothes or anything - I don't think Billy would appreciate my collection of designer dresses.
I met Cynthia in front of her house and brought it up with her while we drove to the cinema.
"Well, I gave him my old laptop, and Trent gave him his old phone. Tony gives him bags of hand-me-down clothes, and I'm pretty sure Wendy - you know, Tony's mum - supplies his school lunches. But I mean you're paying him fifty pounds for a hour-long piano lesson - that's helping," she assured me with a shrug. "Unfortunately it's just one of those things. It's too big for us. We do what we can, but it's not like we can buy them a brand new house full of gleaming furniture and set both his parents up with high-paying white-collar jobs," she pointed out.
"Yeah," I sighed despondently.
"And we can't do too much, because Billy gets all embarrassed and cross over it. You know how he is."
"Yeah," I said. "As long as he's fed and happy, I mean..." I trailed off and sighed again. "He's just... he's so great, Cynthia. He's such an awesome person - well, most of the time - and he deserves better."
"You really like him, don't you?" Cynthia asked me with a small smile. I blushed and glanced at her.
"A bit. He's just," I sighed wistfully. "He's perfect. And oh my God is he good looking, and you can tell he's only going to get hotter with age," I told her, and she laughed.
"Well, yeah, I have to admit he is a bit of a looker," Cynthia agreed. "But it's weird to think of him like that - he's like a brother to me, we've grown up together since we were toddlers."
"That's fine, it just means less competition for me," I gave her a smirk and she rolled her eyes dramatically. My smile turned into a thoughtful frown as I looked at her. "We need to find you a man," I told her. She blushed and groaned in frustration.
"Not this again Annabel, please," she sighed in exasperation. "I don't want or need a boyfriend."
Antonio found a parking spot and Cynthia and I walked the last few blocks to the cinema and queued up for snacks. We ended up watching a romantic-comedy and went to our favourite sushi restaurant for dinner after the movie had finished. We talked more - a lot about Billy and his perfection (granted the majority of that was a one-sided conversation as I just gushed about him) - but about other things as well, like school and work. Well, Cynthia's work. I don't need a job, but I'm a model anyway. I love it, but it's pretty boring to talk about. Besides my parents just give me whatever I want, and I was paying for our movie and meals with the credit card my father had given me. I maxed it out once, just to see if that'd get a reaction from either of my parents. I don't know if either of them actually noticed. I found out the daily limit is £5,000 though.
We finished eating and after excusing myself to vomit it all back up in the bathroom, Antonio took us both home. I arrived back at my own home just as Oliver was arriving for tutoring.
"Hi Ollie, how are you?" I asked him. He gave me a wane smile.
"Alright. You?"
"Great," I lied more convincingly. Honestly, I was still nervous that Billy wasn't as interested in me as I'd hoped, and I wasn't excited to go into that empty house - empty of love of course, we have plenty of furniture. It made me miss Billy's home actually. His house might be a light breeze from collapsing, but it was full of warmth and love - you could feel it in the atmosphere, and I could see it in the way Steven looked at Billy. As far as step-fathers go, Steven seemed pretty great to me. He cared more about Billy than my father seemed to care about me, that's for sure.
"Ready to channel your father?" I asked Oliver, teasing him playfully about his father being our school principal. He rolled his eyes at me and gave me another small smile. "Hey, what's wrong?" I asked him.
"Nothing, I'm just tired. From the party," he told me.
"We can call this off if you'd rather go home and get a good night's sleep," I offered. He shook his head as we walked inside the house.
"No, I'm fine."
"Alright then."
We went upstairs to the library and got settled in. About half an hour into study I grew bored and my thoughts turned back to Billy. I couldn't help it, it was as though I was obsessed or something.
"Hey you're close with Billy, aren't you?" I asked Ollie, interrupting whatever he was telling me.
"Well, um, I suppose," he said, looking down at his book and fidgeting with his pen.
"Do you know if he fancies anyone?" I asked. "I went over to his house today for a piano lesson, and we ended up snogging a bit but he told me he was feeling ill. I'm just a bit worried he might not be interested in me," I told Oliver.
"Oh, um, well... he hasn't told me that he fancies anyone, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't fancy you. In fact I'm pretty sure he does." He sounded almost bitter.
"Ollie."
"Yes?"
"Do you fancy Billy?" I asked him. He fumbled his words trying to squash my hunch that I was almost certain was right.
"Of course not! We've been friends for a very long time, we're just good mates!" he told me. "I don't think of him like that, I never have and I never would. Christ, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I automatically fancy every guy who comes along-"
"Ok, ok, I understand," I tried to calm him down and make it clear I didn't mean to offend him. "I was just curious. You know, Cynthia and I both had the biggest crush on you before we found out you were gay," I admitted to him.
"Really?" He asked me with a confused frown.
I nodded. "I was devastated. Truly heartbroken."
"Oh. Well, sorry."
"Don't apologise. So what do you think of me and Billy? I reckon we'd make a cute couple."
"Yeah?" he asked disinterestedly, turning back to his textbook.
"Ok, now you're not even listening," I told him.
"Sorry." He didn't sound very sorry.
"So? What do you think? You know both of us very well; do you think we'd work as a couple?"
He sighed and looked at me. "I think... Honestly, I don't think it would last. I love Billy - as a friend - but he's... easily distracted. I don't mean that I think he'd cheat on you, just that he doesn't have a great track record when it comes to relationship longevity and he's got too much of his own stuff going on to really pay attention to someone else. He needs someone who can look after him, keep him on the right path. I can't see you doing that for very long - I think you're very independent and you need someone else who's independent too. And, I think there might be too much of a, uh, class gap between you two and your respective families," he said delicately.
"You mean he's too poor for me, or I'm too rich for him?" I asked sadly.
"I think you're too rich for him. I think it would make him insecure, and you've got a taste for the finer things in life and he simply can't provide that for you and I'm not sure if he ever will. Like I said before, I love Billy as a friend and I think he's awesome and all that, but... he seems a bit lost, and until he figures it all out I don't know how far he'll get. I just... I worry that he doesn't see his potential or true worth, and that'll mean he'll only spend his life moving sluggishly through minimum wage jobs and government paychecks simply because he doesn't think he's capable of anything more. I want to help, but whenever I try to tell him how clever or talented he is he just snorts and rolls his eyes. I really think he could go places with his music, but I think to him success seems so far out of reach that he won't even really try."
"I know what you mean, I totally agree," I told Ollie.
"At least they're doing the band thing now. I think that'll be really good for him."
"I hope so. Don't tell anybody, but the whole band thing was actually my idea," I confessed. "I suggested it to Cynthia. I know how good he is, and he really loves his music. I thought it might give him a bit of a confidence boost, up his self-esteem a little, and I know that'll be good for him. I've always thought Billy was meant to write music - he's thoughtful and creative. I've heard some of his original compositions, and they're so emotional and raw. He's obviously very passionate. When he plays - especially piano - he puts so much meaning and soul into the music, it's completely magical. I wonder if he's ever written lyrics? If he can break your heart with a melody, just imagine what his lyrics could do. He has a real gift, and I think it would do a lot of good for him to share it with the world."
"Why don't you just tell him that? Why does it have to be a secret?" Ollie asked me.
"Oh, Oliver. You should know why, you know Billy better than anyone! The second he feels like he might let someone down, he panics and finds an out; an excuse to avoid the whole thing. I don't want him to do that. See, I think it all comes down to his father."
"Steve?"
"No, Steve seems great. I mean his real father, the one that left and doesn't want anything to do with him. I think that all day everyday Billy's trying to compensate for it."
"I think you're dead on with that, Annabelle," Ollie told me. We sat in a sad silence for a few moments, until Ollie sighed. "Well, hopefully your band thing works out. Onto Biology then?"
"Sure." Suddenly the library doors opened and my father came striding into the room, doing something on his iPad.
"Hi Daddy!" I grinned up at him, excited to see him, and jumped to my feet. "What are you-"
"Quiet Annabelle, daddy's working," he told me, only looking up to find the aisle of bookshelves he was after. He disappeared down the Criminal Law section and I sunk slowly back into my seat, my smile fading away and a horrible feeling settling in my stomach. When he returned a few moments later he was frowning at the contents of one of his big code books.
"Are you and Mum going to have breakfast in the dining room tomorrow?" I asked him as he walked straight past me, headed for the door.
"Sure, poppet, buy as many as you want," he said, closing the door behind him. There was silence, until Oliver broke it.
"... Annabelle, are you-"
"You know, I'm not sure I remember the last time either of them looked at me," I interrupted Ollie, staring at the door after my father. My vision fogged up and I felt a hot tear fall down my cheek.
"Oh Annabelle," Ollie got up as I put my face in my hands and came over to hold me. I sobbed into his shoulder for an hour, then I ordered him to go home. After Oliver left, I went upstairs and had another purge to make myself feel better, then I gave myself a pep-talk in the mirror.
"You're beautiful, and you're going to be the most gorgeous girl in the whole world," I told my reflection. "Once your face is plastered on every campaign, billboard, advertisement, magazine cover and goddamn mother-fucking bus in every city in the world there's no way they won't be able to notice you," I said adamantly. "You won't give them a choice. Even if you have to kill yourself to do it. Alright? Ok. Ok. Now, how are we going to get all those advertisements if we don't brush our teeth?" I smiled to myself and hummed along to Taylor Swift on the radio as I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, and carried on with my nightly routine. "I shake it off, I shake it off!"