Chapter 4

I sit down in the front passenger seat of Cam's sleek black convertible, throwing my bag back to Luke, who catches it and places it on the seat beside him.

We begin to drive. The wind whips our hair back from our faces as the sunlight plays across our smiling faces. I turn to Cam.

"Hey Cam, I just realised, you called me Ebony in there. Where did that come from dude?" I enquire, not admitting that I seriously like the nickname. Keeping his eyes on the road, but smiling, he replies,

"I don't know…it just suits you. Your dark hair, you dark eyes, your dark personality…ebony makes me think of black, and black makes me think of you. That's why. You like it?" I smile,

"Yeah, I really do." I see look grinning in the rear view mirror, and turn round to him, my breath catching in my throat at his absolutely beautiful face.

"What are you grinning at Clowny?" I tease with a smile. He replies with an even grin than before,

"Cam has a crush on you! It's so obvious it hurts! Ahhhh!" he screeches, and falls back with a massive grin and rosy cheeks to match. I blush, turn around, and fold my hands in my lap. I glance over at Cameron and see the fierce red of his face at the very thought of his brother's claim being true. The thing is…I know Cam even better than Luke, and there's one vital thing that Luke doesn't know…

Cameron is gay. Has been since he was 13, and still is now. He came out to me about a year and a half ago, when one night he turned up on the doorstep, bawling his eyes out, his face a mixture of fear, pain and anxiety. Rocky was out, so I took him into the kitchen, wrapped him in a towel and practically force-fed him chicken soup and hot chocolate. After he had finished them, and had passed a temperature test, I moved him through the living area, popped his feet in a bucket of warm water and finally confronted him bout what he was so upset about. He told me there and then. He poured his heart out to me, and cried on my shoulder about how he would lose all his friends, about how he'd never have kids, and about he was a freak and a failure. I convinced him that none of this was true, that I'd always stand by him, that he could easily adopt, and that he was totally not a freak, or a failure. But then he really dropped a bombshell. His dad, who I had already decided was a total Neanderthal, was homo-phobic. He revealed that if his father saw men holding hands in the street, he'd do anything from shouting abuse to throwing things at them. He'd had a friend in College. They 'd lived together; they were best friends… that is, before Cammy's Dad, called Tony, found out that his friend, Henry, "swung both ways." Tony beat Henry up, packed his bags and threw him out of the flat, screeching about how he could have been attacked by a "homo."

I have since checked this story with both Cameron's mother and father, who have both verified it, Tony verifying it a little too proudly for my tastes, and I understand Cam's fear. If Tony found out that one of his flesh and blood, one of his sons, was "homo", as he so nicely puts it, he would kill him without a doubt. Needless to say, I've never told a soul.

We stop at the traffic lights, and I try to make conversation again.

"So boys, what are we going to see? "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days"? "Catch Me If You Can?"" This time Luke answers,

"Neither. Babes, we're gonna go see, the king of spoofs, starring the actor of actors…" Johnny English, starring Rowan Atkinson.

Despite my earlier doubts, it's a great film, and I'm in stitches during most of it. We talk about it non-stop on the way to their house, and laugh in memory of some of the scenes. At this point, I pick up my mobile phone and gingerly dial the house number. I wait as the phone rings, before it's finally answered.

"Hello, who's calling?"

"…Aaron?"

"Eve. Where are you?" I wince at his harsh, angry tone.

"I'm…I'm in Cam's car, we're on our way back to Luke and his place, we've just been at the movies."

"We still need to talk Eve. You should have asked me first." At this, I feel my already fragile emotional state flare way past tears, and anger takes control of my mouth and tongue before I even realise what I'm saying,

"God dammit Rocky! Stop trying to act like Dad! You'll never be like him!" I immediately regret what I've said, especially after hearing the choked sob from the other line. Before I can even open my mouth to apologise, he's slammed the phone down and the dialling tone is wailing in my ear. I hang up from my end, and see Luke staring at me in horror.

"That was harsh Eve." Well done for speaking the obvious, dumb ass.

My parents died when I was 12, and for a while, Rocky and I were taken into care. At the time, Rocky was fourteen, and as soon as he turned sixteen began a massive custody battle. He didn't care that he wasn't 18, he wanted us to move back in our parents' house, not to have to live with strangers, not having to be apart for long periods of time, to be a family again, albeit a small one. To our incredible surprise, with the help of our lawyer, and the promise of a watching eye from Social Services, we won, and we moved from our foster parent's houses (we were apart at the time) a day later. How did they die, you ask? Well guys, don't ask, 'cause I'm close enough to crying as it is.

We reach their house, and Cam leads me inside with a sympathetic arm round my shoulder. He knows how hard it was for me, and how hard it still is now. It's hard when you're brother's your father figure, get what I mean?

The next few hours go better however. We watch a few movies, stuff our faces with chocolate, and tell each other outrageous jokes. After this, I finally build up the courage to phone Rocky and apologise. The boys politely leave the room, even though I know they'll listen through the door. I'm past the point of caring about privacy. I gulp, pick up my mobile, and click on "Rocky Mob." Here goes…

DISCLAIMER – I don't own Johnny English.

It's coming Brooke! Lol! So there's chapter four, I really got it out quick this time! Aw well, see you next time!

P.s. I may raise the rating.