by J P Sayle
Brad and Martin were happy and safe, so what was the problem? None as far as she could see. Resting her head on her paws and closing her eyes, she focused on trying to find out who her new charges were instead.
Paying no attention, the threats sailed over her head making her mother smirk. Princess thought she wasn’t aware of the exact moment she had zoned out of their conversation. Well, she had warned her for the last time, consequences millennia old were there for a reason. There would be fireworks, sure as day was light and night was dark. It would happen when Princess realised you couldn’t mess with the laws of nature and not expect to reap those consequences. Slipping out of Princess’s mind chuckling in pleasure. Yes, her daughter was in for one big shock.
Stuart threw his bags, the thud as they landed gave him little satisfaction. “What the fuck is wrong with me, why the hell did I offer to look after Brad’s cat? I don’t even like bloody cats!” His arms flailed above his head in temper, stomping back and forth for the twentieth time, convinced he was probably wearing a hole in the carpet. He didn’t consider the other patrons in the hotel, continuing to rant.
Stopping mid rant, Stuart stared at the hotel door as if it had grown two heads. The tapping he heard was insistent pulling him out of his head. He stalked to the door, yanking it open he growled, “Yes?”
A girl dressed in the hotel’s receptionist garb stuttered, large light green eyes engulfed her alarmed face. “I…. emm…. have had a report…. of a disturbance, sir. Is everything alright?”
Her timid question had him attempting to rein his anger in. It wasn’t her fault he was having a crappy day. He heaved a sigh of frustration while attempting to give his best smile. “Sorry I dropped a bag while I was sorting through my stuff. I may have been a little angry at myself. Please accept my apology. I hope I didn’t cause a problem for anyone.” Liar, liar pants on fire, his mind chanted, reminiscent of a little child.
He shook off his childish thoughts, putting a little more effort into the smile. Realising he’d gone too far when a rosy flush heated her cheeks and long black lashes battered and fluttered at him. Stuart gave an internal groan, the poor girl was barking up the wrong tree. He did not swing that way, preferring something hard underneath him. The cute waiter who had served his breakfast that morning definitely more his cup of tea. Images of tight black trousers and firm solid ass cheeks had his trousers tightening. The receptionist spoke, rousing him from his daydream.
“My name is Georgina, and I’m here to make sure all of your needs are met. Is there anything I could do for you today?” Her eagerness, along with an ample chest, pressed forward.
Stuart smothered his chuckle. “No thank you, I am just packing to check out, but thank you.” Stuart shut the door firmly on her disappointment. He went back to packing, shoving clothes into his bags, his earlier anger wanting to resurface. He made a concerted effort to calm down, pondering how his life had turned upside down in just a few ruddy weeks.
A careful planner, he weighed up everything, considered all his options before making any decisions. Yet, there he was, having jacked in a highly paid job for no apparent reason, moving to a small island in the middle of the Irish Sea. At his first interview he ended up meeting with Brad Cummings, the son of Malcolm, his archenemy. The blast from his past could have potentially derailed his life further. A past he tried hard to forget came back to haunt him. Malcolm Cummings was not someone he wanted to be reminded off, but his son was here, doing just that.
Stuart recalled the first time he’d met sixteen year old Brad and how sadness had emanated from his small fragile face. A distinctly feminine face, surrounded by blond curls interwoven with gold strands glinting under the lights of the hall. Soft, vivid green eyes, high slashing cheek bones, a small button nose, and ripe pouty lips that had captivated Stuart. The small stature initially had Stuart think he was younger than his years, but there was a level of maturity in his eyes that belied his years. It was only after he’d witnessed the sickening interactions between father and son that he understood the deep sadness Brad portrayed when he thought no one was watching.
His own sexuality had never been problem for his family; accepting and loving him for who he was. It had been such a shock to the system to see something so blatantly abhorrent. For his part, he’d sat quietly by, participating through his silence, giving the impression he’d agreed with what Malcolm was doing.
He remembered how drained he’d always felt after those visits. The sorrow had dug deep, creating sleepless nights, he had no one to blame but himself. Stuart wasn’t proud that it had taken months before his horrifying behaviour and thoughts of how disappointed his father would be stopped him from visiting the house altogether. He’d self-medicated with alcohol, but the images burned into his mind physically hurt.
Stuart felt the cold creep inside him, guilty memories tasting sour, he contemplated Brad’s current fucked up situation. Who would believe that Malcolm Cummings would attempt to kill his own son? Christ, he knew he was an asshole but this, what kind of monster does that just because his son is gay? He ruminated, unable to comprehend he’d worked for a monster, all that time not knowing what Malcolm was really capable of, attempted murder.
Stuart felt his aggravation growing. Throwing his clothes into the bag, choosing to overlook his shaking hands, he knew he wasn’t fooling himself. His life had gone to shit in a hand bag in 2007 when he had taken the job with Malcolm. Regardless of it digging his family out of the financial hole, the six years he’d spent with the company had changed him. He’d behaved in ways that were not him, making his natural openness a thing of the past. He’d hid behind a neutral mask he’d had to cultivate to survive.
The habit now so ingrained it had affected his whole life. He’d struggled to remember who he was outside of the job. Fear of being found out, losing his job and financial security had made it impossible to act naturally. His poor excuse for relationships had been laughable. Unable to go out publicly, acknowledge he was even in a relationship, had caused them all to wilt and die. Even when he’d left the job, Stuart still struggled to escape the walls he’d built around himself to protect his privacy.
His heavy thoughts had him releasing a loud sigh, Stuart rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping to stop the headache that was brewing. His mind taking him to memories of eyes that resembled melted chocolate puddles, like it had done many times over the past ten years. Stuart was honest enough, even if it was only with himself, to say his relationships hadn’t stood much of a chance over the memories of those eyes, that instant connection that sparked inside him.
Stuart stopped pacing. The packing forgotten as chocolate brown eyes enticed, a moment embedded forever in his soul, took over. It had been the measuring stick for something he couldn’t even define in the middle of the night as he’d laid awake rehashing those few minutes. Stuart cringed at how many one-night stands or relationships he’d started because they’d had similar eyes. It had been the last straw when his sisters started calling him a man whore due to his use of Tinder trying to burn those eyes out of his mind. What a mess.
That was if he didn’t considered, finding himself living on the Isle of Man, with a new job, his boss’s boyfriend turning out to be his ex-bosses son. The same ex-boss who tried to kill his son, who now lay in the hospital attached to God knows how many machines, attempting to keep him alive. It couldn’t get any more fucked up, he was sure. Well, that was if he chose to overlook that he was now going to house sit their ruddy cat—to which he was highly allergic—all because of his past with Brad. The past that, it would seem, had ways of coming back to bite you in the ass when you least expected it.
Stuart wondered if it would have made a difference if he had told Brad and Martin that when he left the company, he’d visited Malcolm’s home knowing he wouldn’t be there. He had wanted an opportunity to apologise, only to be told Brad no longer lived there, his mother not forthcoming with where he’d gone. Fate, it would seem, worked its magic, allowing him to readdress the bala
nce. His allergy to cats seemed such a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things, well he hoped so. Shrugging off his negative thoughts, he needed to do this, and honour the forgiveness Brad gave him so willingly.
Struggling to swallow past the ball of emotion that had lodged in his throat, he threw himself on the bed landing harder than he anticipated. The loud creaking causing him to swear, praying that no one else complained about the noise.
He tried to stop his whirling thoughts as they merged into a heap in his mind. The ball of emotion released a flood of tears, falling unheeded, unleashing the pain that had never been far away after Brad’s recent confession. He had unwittingly contributed to Brad’s pain and suffering for months before he’d stopped visiting the house. For him it was unforgivable, yet, Brad had shown him sympathy. Stuart prayed Brad would survive, so he could honour his forgiveness. He wouldn’t consider any other outcome. He bounced off the bed, needing to move, wiping at his wet face. He deliberated on the need to focus on a positive outcome for all of them.
Stuart registered the state of his room his eyes growing large. Panicking, he checked the time. “For crying out loud! How the hell did I get so behind?” Sarah would be there to pick him up in no less than five friggin’ minutes.
Stuart grabbed the nearest things to him, stuffing them haphazardly into the bags. Paying no mind, he crushed his expensive handmade tailored suits, going through the list of things he needed to sort.
Continuing to push things into his bags, he recalled his colleagues shocked expressions; that staid, boring Stuart was doing something so off the wall. Hell, they’d laugh their asses off if they knew he was cat sitting, knowing his aversion to anything furry.
He was again reminded how small the world was. A colleague in England had recommended Sarah’s firm when he had told them he was leaving. Stuart had found himself instantly liking the little firecracker. Her youthful appearance deceptive, making him initially question her experience in recruitment. She’d laughed it off, taking it as a compliment.
Sarah, it just so happened, was the sister of Martin who, it turned out, was Brad’s boyfriend. Martin was now his new boss, how had that happened? His mind boggled at the circles within circles. That fate, she was a right trickster that was for sure.
Shaking of the niggle at the back of his mind his thoughts were creating, he considered his to do list. Hating to be reliant on others, a car was going to be a priority. He chewed his lip remembering Sarah had said he could use Brad’s for the time being. The mischievous glint in her eyes told him she was up to something, but what, he couldn’t fathom.
For whatever reason everything was slotting together, a jigsaw puzzle that seemed to be fitting seamlessly. Stuart found his lips curving, letting a chuckle escape. All he needed now was for a pair of hot chocolate eyes to show up. As if.
Stuart felt his heart jump in his chest at the loud knock on the door. Turning too quick his arm caught the bag nearest to him, knocking it to the floor and spraying clothes everywhere. Stuart snarled, “For Christ sake,” his teeth snapping in temper. Striding to the door, he plastered his best fake smile to his face before opening it, pretending everything was fine. Sarah’s raucous laughter when she caught sight of the state of his room, had him hunching in defeat. His lip poked out, pouting before he could stop it.
“Oh look, we’re having a clothes fight, and it appears the clothes are winning. Tell me, Stuart, when you started this fight, did you consider the outcome? Oh, no maybe it’s a jumble sale. ” Sarah’s snarky comments and sparkling mirth had him biting his tongue to stop his angry retort.
He turned surveying the mess, struggling not to let the sigh escape when Sarah stepped around him, her laughter echoing out into the empty corridor. He shut the door, reminding himself he wasn’t a child. He let her humour melt some of his tension when she offered to help.
“Come on, I’ll help. I’m double parked, and I don’t need another ticket, as I haven’t paid for the last one.” Her sheepish grin said she wasn’t lying.
They made short work of packing, Stuart was pleased when they headed out ten minutes later. His pleased feeling quickly evaporating as Stuart locked his eyes on the road as tyres screeched, gripping the grab bar for dear life, his knuckles shone white. Screwing his eyes shut, he shrank back, hoping it would make the car smaller. At six foot four, he was already crammed like a sardine into her Mercedes-Benz SLC sports car.
“I didn’t even ask where it is that Martin or Brad live.” Stuart implored it wasn’t far. Why had no one warned him she drove like a lunatic? He recoiled back in his seat. Fuck, was there even a hair’s breadth between her car and the oncoming traffic? He didn’t hear her response, his brain shut down when Sarah overtook indiscriminately, making his eyes wheel in panic. He begged to whatever God there was that he would make it in one piece. The temptation to grab the handbrake had him sitting on his hands.
“Oh, stop being so dramatic. You’re worse than my brother, he doesn’t normally sit on his hands. Anyway, what was I saying? Yes, they live in a small village called Kirk Michael. It’s on the east coast of the island. You will love it, but you will need a car. There is about a twenty-minute drive to Martin’s office, and as you will be starting straight away, and I have no clue on bus timetables, a car will be essential. But, I have that covered. As I said, I’m sure Brad won’t mind you using his car.” Again he could hear the hint of mischief at the mention of Brad’s car.
Stuart inhaled sharply, wishing she wouldn’t keep looking at him and concentrate on the road.
“Anyway, where was I? Martin’s house is pretty stocked with everything you should need. I will bring Princess over so you can meet her. She is a real sweetie. You’ll love her. I’ve been taking care of her the last few days.” Stuart watched mixed emotions cross her face, her brow raising, anger winning out over the sadness he had seen.
“Brad is showing signs of waking up. They’ve taken him off the ventilator, so that’s good.” Her gruff voice and expectant look had him trying to reassure.
“I’m sure it’s a good sign. You have to remember he is in the best place. They’ll take good care of him. I’m positive everything will be fine. He can’t forgive me then not stick around to rub my face in it, now who could resist that?” Patting her arm, he realised his mistake a second too late. The car juddered as she flew around the next bend. Pulling back quickly, he chastised himself, bad Stuart! Stop distracting the driver. Otherwise I’ll be joining Brad in the hospital, if I’m not careful.
Jaw clenching, he looked out the window at the flashing scenery. Unable to see it clearly as it whizzed past him, Stuart attempted to focus on breathing through the panic that built with every corner she took. “You do have a licence, don’t you?”
Her ‘are you serious’ smirk wasn’t reassuring either, but the laughter that followed lightened the atmosphere, even if he hadn’t been completely joking when he’d asked. He didn’t let go of the door when she careened around the next bend. Unsure how much more his stomach could take before his breakfast made a decision to reappear. Maybe this is revenge for hurting Brad, he side-eyed her, no, surely she wouldn’t be that cruel, would she?
Stuart had figured out pretty quickly how loyal she was to Brad. He hid his spreading smile at the memory of the picture Martin had showed him of her post cocktail gate. After Martin had stormed into the room catching Stuart hugging Brad in gratitude for his forgiveness, Martin’s green-eyed monster had sucked the air right out of the room. Positive at any minute Martin would rip his arms off for touching Brad, Brad had subsequently taken off with Sarah after their initial meeting at her office. Having left him with a fuming Martin, and him at a loss as to how things had shifted for the better between Brad and him, Brad had taken Sarah to the Bath and Bottle where they had enjoyed one too many of their fabulous cocktails, resulting in cocktail gate when Brad wouldn’t tell Martin where he was.
His thoughts were interrupted when they suddenly stopped. Stuart felt relief he was still a
live, jumping swiftly out of the car before she had a chance to change her mind. Stuart shuddered at the thought of getting back in the car with her, not a cat in hells chance was that happening, he’d walk before that would happen.
“Here we are,” Sarah pointed out the two houses. “That’s Brad’s over there and this here is Martin’s.”
Stuart followed Sarah’s small fingers to where she pointed. He was pleasantly surprised by how welcoming Martin’s home was.
“The stalker bitch lived in that one.” The last part was hissed through clenched teeth. Stuart dodged her fist as she punched the air next to his head, trying to annihilate it. “It’s a good job she moved out quickly, otherwise I would have kicked her bony ass all the way to Timbuktu and back, horrible cow that she is.”
Stuart believed her if the temper sparking in her eyes was anything to go by. He was just glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of her anger. Her feisty hips swayed as she stalked away, raven black hair flowed down her back, swirling in the wind. It tossed it carelessly around her shoulders, framing her petite shoulders making the flaming red dress stand out. The dress extenuated her curvaceousness, reminding him of the fifties pin up idols—all boobs and bottoms with their small waists. He figured his hands would be able to measure how small her waist was it so tiny. If he’d ever consider swapping sides, it would be for someone like her.
“What you gawping at? Come on, I haven’t got all day, and you need to follow me back after you’ve met Princess, so I can introduce you to your new work colleagues. Martin wants you to get stuck in, find your feet.” Sarah prattled on, “there is a lot to catch you up on if Martin doesn’t want to lose any business while he is camped up at the hospital. He is very fortunate he has Ann, she’s a godsend, as you’ll soon find out.”
Stuart dumped his bags in the hall, half listening to her fading words as she walked away. What hit him straight away was the homely feel. Well that, and as he inhaled deeply, hot holidays sprung to mind. The rich scent of fresh herbs jogged his memory of a recent trip to Greece. On leaving the airport, heat had mixed with the vegetation filling the air with a unique herby smell he’d fallen in love with.