“Jay! What the—” Pel dropped to his knees beside me. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head, my eyes blurring from pain tears. “Just hurts,” I whispered. “Hurt all over. C-communicator...please.”

  Pel took it from my hand. “This is Pel Kani. I don’t know who you are but your protégé is injured and needs help. If you won’t come—”

  He stopped as if Matsin had cut in. I concentrated on not puking and trying to relax my tortured gut. I’d learned from the long, restless night that tensing up made it worse.

  I lay back carefully, no longer caring what happened to me. “Just take me home,” I mumbled. “Can look after myself.”

  Pel stared at me, still listening to Matsin. “He can’t,” he snapped. “He can’t even stand up.” He listened some more. “Five o’clock? Not a minute later? Very well.”

  He closed the call and clicked the screen closed. “He wanted me to send you home too. Can’t say he impresses me much. You need someone with you.”

  “Jus’...get me a taxi.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. I should call the medics.” He felt my forehead, looked into my eyes and then felt my stomach, which still hurt but not so much as a minute or so ago. “I think you’ve just pulled a muscle or two, possibly torn something, but I’d be happier if you’d see a doctor this morning.”

  “Matsin can get me one later. I just can’t call Mum. You don’t know what it’s like with her.”

  “I can guess,” he said, his tone actually sympathetic. “All right. If you’re so determined to protect her feelings at the cost of your own health, then the least I can do is let you lie there until he comes to collect you. But I have to go out in an hour or so. If you upset Urei again, I’ll throw you into the street.”

  “I won’t. Let me say sorry?”

  He stood. “I have no idea why I'm going along with this,” he muttered. “Do you need to get up?”

  With all my other problems, I’d ignored my bladder quite nicely, but now it added to the general misery. I nodded, and tried to stand, being quickly reminded that this was not a good idea.

  “Wait for me, you twit,” he barked, but he was careful as he got his arm under me and helped me stand.

  “Oh, Lord,” I groaned, swaying and wanting to puke.

  “Take your time. Okay?”

  I nodded, not sure what would happen if I tried to talk, and he led me out of the room, half-carrying me the first few steps until I got my legs operating. If I took it slow, and with his help, it wasn’t too bad. I firmly told him I didn’t want him to watch me piss.

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I want to sell the photos.”

  “I can manage. Thanks.”

  “At least leave the damn door open. I'm going to speak to Urei. Be sensible.”

  I gave him a grin and he rolled his eyes again. I pushed the door to, but didn’t latch it. Then I hobbled over to the loo to ease at least one bodily ache.

  I didn’t piss blood, which, after all Pel’s dire warnings, was a relief. But when I went over to wash my hands, and had my first sight of the damage to my face, I couldn’t believe it was me. My lips were all swollen and there was a bad graze on my cheek. A black eye, two cuts, and the remains of the fake nose and beard made me look like something that had been dead for a week. I picked at the glue and latex, but it didn’t really help much. Matsin was going to go spare when he saw me—and no way would I be able to hide this from Mum. Could I persuade Matsin to let me hide at his place for a few days until I could cover this with makeup? He didn’t have a lot of sympathy with my concerns about Mum’s mental state, bastard. He was born in a test-tube, I always thought. No idea about family at all.

  I sighed. I had a few hours to come up with a plan. I wanted to go back to sleep. No chance of that, I supposed.

  “You done?”

  Pel had pushed the door open, which was rude but I forgave him.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re a mess.”

  “I'm lucky I still have a face.”

  “Your friend?”

  I turned, carefully. “He was worse than me. I was just a bonus for them.”

  His expression, sardonic and uninformative, didn’t change. “Maybe it’ll teach you to keep away from drugs.”

  “I'm not an addict.”

  “If you say so.”

  Urei popped under the arm Pel was using to prop up the doorway. “Are you here all day?” he asked. He confused me the way he sounded like a child, looked about twelve, yet his voice was as deep and smooth as any adult man’s. Something odd about him for sure.

  “If I can, please. Urei, I'm sorry I yelled at you. It was rude.”

  “Yeah.” He stared at me with his big, blue, blue eyes. “You sure look funny. I should paint you.”

  “If you like, you c—”

  Pel cleared his throat. “Uh, no, Urei, he’s not up to...uh, he means ‘paint your skin’. Don’t agree unless you get full details.”

  “Why would he...never mind.” This household was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen.

  Urei disappeared again, and Pel came over to help me out of the bathroom. “How do you feel?”

  “Not dying. Thirsty though.”

  “I'm about to make breakfast. Urei says he’s not hungry but if I prepare the food, he’ll eat.”

  He offered to take me back to the couch but I’d embarrassed myself enough. I said I’d watch him cook, so he propped me up at the kitchen table while he fussed around. Urei was in the living room, painting, I presumed. I heard him humming and singing to himself.

  “Here.” I looked up as Pel set a big glass of milk in front of me. “Good for a growing boy.”

  “Hey, I'm twenty-three. No damn kid.”

  He stepped back and looked me over. “Oh. I thought you were eighteen, maybe younger. You said you were thirsty.”

  “Eighteen! How old are you, granddad?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Twenty-eight, and remember you’re a guest. A not terribly welcome one either.”

  “You could have taken me home.” I sipped the milk. It was cool and easy on my sore mouth, but I wasn’t going to let him know that.

  “Yes, and have you fall or die from an unsuspected injury. No thanks. I don’t feel like being sued by your Mister Ro.”

  I thought about arguing, but then considered that Matsin probably would sue. He was a bit like that. “You worry about a lot of stuff.”

  “I'm a lawyer. It’s my job. Want some toast? An egg?”

  I agreed a soft egg on toast sounded nice. He seemed to enjoy looking after me, and when Urei wandered in, he fussed and coaxed him like he was a toddler. I couldn’t figure out why Pel was so protective of him. Urei was odd but he wasn’t incapable. Or stupid.

  Urei glared at me as I ate. “You’re loud,” he announced.

  “I can’t help it. My mouth’s sore.”

  “You were loud before you ate.”

  “Huh?”

  But he just gave me an annoying grin and picked at his fried ham with his fingers.

  Pel didn’t seem to notice Urei’s bad manners or his odd statements. He sat down with a plate of food and tucked in as if he was starving.

  “You work on the weekend?” I asked.

  “Most of them.” He wiped his lips with a napkin. “And most evenings.”

  “Acting can be like that.”

  He snorted. “Except if you don’t turn up for a film shoot, or you’re too plastered with drugs or booze to work, people don’t lose their homes, or their livelihoods, or end up in jail.”

  I opened my mouth to snap something back, looked at his clever eyes and the quirk on his lips, and knew I was outclassed. I stared at my plate. “We can’t all be lawyers.”

  “No. But as professions go, I rate acting only slightly above drug dealing in usefulness. Urei, want some toast?”

  Urei sat up, all enthusiastic. “I can—”

  Pel raised a hand to stop him. “Yes, you can, but we have a deal. You don’t make toast and I don’t paint portraits. Besides, our insurance’ll be happier if you don’t.”

  Urei laughed. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”

  “Lucky you,” Pel said, but he reached over and ruffled his brother’s hair. They didn’t much look like brothers, I thought. And as I did, Urei turned to me and gave me the weirdest stare, like he’d read my mind or something. Freaky.

  Pel got up to make the food, while I ate and tried not to wish him to drop dead. I know acting isn’t like being a doctor or anything like that, but I try to do a good job. Anyway, his brother didn’t seem to do anything but paint, so where did he get off being so snide?

  Urei rubbed his temple and screwed his face up at me. I resisted the urge to poke my tongue out at him. Pel would throw me out if I did that and I needed somewhere to lay low until Matsin rescued me. Was this really better than sitting at home on my own, risk of dropping dead or not?

  “Can I paint you anyway?”

  I looked up. Urei was now grinning at me. “You can paint a picture of me,” I said carefully. “On something other than me.” Across the kitchen, Pel nodded, smiling faintly. “You want to, really?”

  “Sure. I like ugly things.”

  I scowled as Pel burst out laughing. “Glad to help,” I said, wishing they’d both drop dead. “I'm in pain here, you know.”

  “Self-inflicted,” Pel said, heartless bastard. “Urei, he’ll be gone by five and I’ll be back before then. I’ll take you down to the harbour—we can have supper there.”

  “On the boat?” Urei’s eyes lit up like a little kid’s.

  “On the boat. Now, our guest knows to behave, and you know how to contact me. If he pisses you off, just lock yourself in your room and call me, okay?”

  “I’ll be good, Pel. He doesn’t scare me.”

  “Nor me, but I don’t want your work interrupted.”

  He brought over more toast and laid his hand on Urei’s shoulder. “I have to go. Thanks for agreeing to this.”

  “No problem. He said I could paint him.”

  “Yes, but stick to canvas.”

  “Sure. His skin’s all yuck anyway.”

  Pel smiled indulgently while I tried not to look as pissed as I felt. Then Pel crooked a finger, and, not waiting for me to agree, got his arm under me and helped me from the table. He wanted some privacy.

  He settled me back on the sofa and checked me over carefully, before crouching down and staring at me with a serious expression. “Urei doesn’t like loud voices, harsh words, or being put down. I find out you’ve tormented him and the beating you got last night will seem like your mother’s caress.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but what’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing. It’s the rest of the world that’s broken. The only reason I agreed to you staying here is that I know you care about your mother, so you understand family ties and making accommodations for a fragile psyche. Urei’s my only living relative, and he’s very precious, very easily hurt. I want you to respect the trust I place in you by leaving you with him. He’s a special man, a gifted artist. Treat him with care.”

  “I said I didn’t want to hurt him. He’s being very rude.”

  “He’s rude to most people. Don’t take it personally. He uses it as a test, to see who he can and cannot trust. You came close to failing once. Learn from your mistakes.”

  “So what’s your excuse?” He cocked his head, puzzled at the question. “For being such a prick?”

  “I think having four hours’ sleep on top of a nineteen hour day, and having to deal with someone who brought his misery on himself is more than enough excuse, don’t you think? I have to go. I’ll call him later. The report better be good.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, fed up, sore and insulted to my back teeth.

  He stared at me a little longer, then stood. “If your condition worsens, tell Urei. I understand your concern for your career and your mother, but you can’t expect us to sit back and let you die.”

  “Lay off,” I said crankily. “I'm not going to die.”

  “Good. I may see you this afternoon, or not. If your Mister Ro is late, you’ll be leaving anyway. Goodbye.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Prick.

  He walked off, and I pulled the blanket around me. All the moving around I’d done had set all my muscles to complaining, though I supposed I didn’t feel quite as crap as I did when I woke up. I’d been tempted to sneak a Moxi pill from out of my boot heel but with all the disgusted comments Pel had made, he’d put me off, at least a little. Besides, it was probably not a good idea to be less than sharp around his weird brother. Who knew what the little shit would do if I dropped my guard?

  The little shit wandered in not long after, and stood and stared at me for the longest time. I ignored him as best I could, but eventually I pulled the blanket down.

  “What?” He still only wore his yellow underpants. It was vaguely creepy.

  “I'm going to paint your hair.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  His expression twisted up. “But you said—”

  “You can paint a picture of my hair.”

  “Yeah. Paint your hair. You’re not very bright, are you? Not even for an actor.”

  I bit back what I really wanted to say, and pulled the blanket back over my face. Little weirdo.

  I heard him shuffling around and dragging a chair over, but I pretended to be asleep. The apartment fell quiet, and the fake sleep became the real thing. I woke up to him shaking me by my shoulder.

  “Ow. Please don’t do that.” He sat back, pouting. “What’s wrong?”

  “You were moaning. Woooo, woooo. Freaky.”

  “You woke me up to tell me that?”

  “Yeah. And to show you what I drew. Look.” He turned a large sketchpad around to show me.

  It was...amazing. Realistic enough to show the bits of glue still stuck to my face, but the hair seemed to float off the page. The detail was almost photographic, yet with a dreamy quality made me look like some kind of imaginary being. I looked at my watch. “You did this in an hour and a half?”

  “Mmmm, a hour. I had to poo and then I was hungry again.”

  I’d almost forgotten he was a nut. “How old are you?”

  He took the sketch pad back. “Twenty-eight, same as Pel.”

  “Are you twins?” Two men who looked less alike, I could hardly imagine. Pel was broad and dark and big-jawed. This guy was like a pixie, pale and pretty and blond. Girly, almost.

  “Nope. Cousins.”

  “But he said—“

  “He’s my adopted brother. Lived with him since I was seven. We're all we’ve got.” He stood and wandered over to his easel, setting the picture of me down on a chair, apparently forgotten.

  “And art is what you do?”

  “Yeah. Cos I'm too weird to work.” He smirked at me, and I had the strangest feeling he knew what I’d been thinking about him.

  For the first time since I’d turned up here, I took the time to really look over the apartment. I hadn’t paid too much attention to it before, with being in pain and out of it. These older apartments didn’t have much to recommend them except being cheap and big. It was comfortable in that it had all the furniture two guys would need, but the bits and pieces were all old, and worn. Nothing expensive, at least not obviously. The big oil paintings on the walls were probably Urei’s, but there were no other pictures, and no ornaments. Just a few books and text heavy magazines on the coffee table, and more books with thick spines and sober titles in a heavy wooden case against the wall. Reference books maybe, for his job. Nothing that looked like a novel, for sure. I didn’t know why they lived in this run down place. If Pel was a lawyer, shouldn’t he be rich?

  “He works at the community centre, with migrants,” Urei suddenly said, as if he really had read my mind. “Works, works, day and night. I worry about him. You should keep away from him, if you’re bringing trouble. He doesn’t need it.”

  “I don’t bring trouble—this was an accident.”

  “Sure. Could happen to anyone.”

  I had no idea why he was trying to provoke me. “Why don’t you like me? You know nothing about me.”

  “I told you. You’re loud. And Pel thinks you’re a waste of time. Actors,” he added, voice dripping with scorn.

  I threw his exact tone right back at him. “Artists.”

  I held my breath, wondering if he’d lose his temper. But he only grinned. “Yeah. He gets art. He thinks acting is lying.”

  “Great. You don’t?”

  “Yeah, I do. But I don’t care about that kind of lying. Do you have nice feet? I want to paint your feet. On paper,” he said, wrinkling his nose at my unspoken protest.

  “I don’t know. You can look. I can’t bend down though.”

  My boots were at the end of the couch—I hoped Urei wouldn’t go snooping—but I still had my socks on. He came over and sat at my feet, staring at them in their socks. “You want them off, you’ll have to—”

  “I'm a weirdo, not stupid. Shut up.”

  He looked at my feet for a whole half hour, not speaking, not moving. I couldn't get back to sleep, wondering what he was going to do. Finally he took one of my socks off, carefully peeling it back with his long fingers. More staring, no talking, and then the other sock. By the time he picked up his sketchpad, I wanted to throw something in frustration. It was only half nine. It was going to be a long day.

  Pel arrived back at half four, and I was almost ready to cry from pain and boredom. Urei had spent all day doing intensive studies of bits of my body, with short bursts of conversation that weaved from quite sane and interesting to bizarrely childish. I couldn’t keep up, being so tired and feeling so crappy. Urei hadn’t fed me, and since the one attempt to take me to the loo had been a bit of a disaster, I hadn’t asked again. My bladder was ready to burst.

  Pel took his raincoat off, looked at me, then demanded to know where his brother was. I waved towards the hall that led to the bedrooms. “Hey, I need—”

  But Pel took off without a word, so all I could do was hold onto myself and hope I wouldn’t piss my pants. That would really make this whole shitty business so perfect, I thought sourly.