by Chris Owen
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Torquere Press
www.torquerepress.com
Copyright ©2008 by Chris Owen
First published in www.torquerepress.com, 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Dave's arrival was announced by a bell hung over the store's door instead of an electronic buzz. It was actually a chain of three small bells that rang with exuberant cheerfulness when he opened the door, and then again as he closed it behind him. So much for pretending he wasn't late. Dave had been hoping to look like he'd been waiting patiently for the client to notice him, but the happy tinkling eliminated that hope. At least he wasn't exceptionally late; he might even be able to pass it off by blaming traffic instead of sleeping in.
"Good morning."
Dave almost yelped in surprise. He'd been so busy peering around the used book shop that he hadn't even noticed the pale, blond man sitting just to his left. Folded into a prissy little chair with spindly legs that was tucked into a corner, the man smiled up at him, clearly amused.
"Oh, hey. I'm the carpenter; Archie sent me. Are you Mr. Chase?” Dave tried very hard to be polite, as Archie had said the job was for an old friend of his.
"I am.” The man stood up and the impression of spindly transferred itself from the chair to the man. He wasn't very old, perhaps thirty-five or so, but he was on the skimpy side, all long bones and pointed joints. The angles of the cut of his suit, and the subtle pinstripe of the fabric, made him look incredibly geometric. “You're late."
"I'm sorry.” Dave was about to offer the traffic excuse but Mr. Chase didn't look particularly interested, or even concerned. “Dave Allen,” he said as he extended his hand.
"Desmond Chase. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Mr. Chase hung a hand lettered closed sign on the door and gestured toward the back of the shop.
"No, thank you. I had one earlier.” Dave wasn't sure if he should let Mr. Chase lead the way or not, given the hand gesture, but he had no idea where he was meant to go. “Are you wanting the new shelves for this room?"
"Goodness, no.” Mr. Chase actually laughed, but more importantly he started to walk and Dave could follow along, trying not to knock anything off the clearly adequate shelves. “Archer didn't explain?"
"Archer? Oh, Archie.” Dave would have to poke Archie about that later. Archer. God, that hardly fit the beer swilling, pizza eating machine who took up the other half of the couch most nights. “No, he just told me to come by and take all the measurements for new shelving.” Dave held up the clipboard in his hand, the pencil dangling from it on a bit of string. His measuring tape was attached to his belt, right next to his cell phone.
"I see. How like Archer to play games, even with his work. Enjoyable, isn't it?” Mr. Chase smiled at Dave, like they shared a secret, and kept on walking.
Dave had never seen a smile like that. It reminded him of a wolf—all teeth and an almost casual threat. At the same time, there was a spark in Mr. Chase's eyes that made the threat seem almost enticing. Dave figured he'd really have to start laying off the good booze if even two drinks was going to make his brain go soft in the morning as well as make him sleep in. He was barely sure he understood what Mr. Chase was talking about. Games?
Mr. Chase walked to the very back of the store and unlocked a door. “This way, Mr. Allen."
"You can call me Dave.” He offered it up without thinking, as he always did to clients. It made the job a bit easier when he was working in their space if they called him by his first name. People didn't yell as much at buddies.
"You may call me Mr. Chase or even Sir.” There was that smile again. “It's entirely up to you."
Dave was going to have to pay closer attention to his work orders, or perhaps start paying a lot more attention to what Archie didn't say. There hadn't been anything said about a power-tripping shop keeper, but here he was. Dave reminded himself to just do his job and keep his mouth shut; maybe the job wouldn't take that long, anyway. It was only shelving.
"I think I'll just stick to Mr. Chase, then.” Dave smiled to show he meant no offense and decided that as soon as he was finished measuring he was going to get on the phone to Archie. Maybe even just as soon as Desmond Chase left him alone in a room. He was going to have some words with Archie about setting him up like this and not warning him about his old friend. Then he was going to demand a nice steak dinner and a beer. God, it wasn't even eight-thirty and he was planning his evening beer. That didn't bode well.
Mr. Chase led the way down a short white hallway with two more rooms off it, and through a second door into what was clearly part of his home. There was a lot more direct light than there had been in the shop, and while it was only one room at the back of the building, it was inviting in a way that a store wasn't; more personal and less purely functional.
There was an open stairway leading up to the second floor and a mirror by the door. An antique looking coat tree held a variety of garments, and there were several pairs of shoes and boots lined up under a hall table.
"This is my personal entry.” Mr. Chase waved a hand around as if to display the watercolor paintings on the walls. “You may come through here when you bring in your tools and supplies; I'll leave it unlocked. This way, come right up the stairs."
Dave nodded and kept on following Mr. Chase. There was a long mirror at the top of the stairs and the two of them looked like polar opposites as they were framed by it: Dave, dark, big and beefy; Mr. Chase, light, angular and delicate, a good four inches shorter and probably fifty pounds lighter.
They both smiled into the mirror and Dave saw Mr. Chase's green eyes crinkle at the corners. Then the smile was gone, along with the sense of shared amusement as Mr. Chase paused to adjust the frame of a picture hanging on the wall.
Dave kept following, noting the tidy rooms they passed, where everything seemed to be placed just so. There were even more angles, books on tables and boxes lined up against walls and wooden trim pieces framing doors. Everywhere Dave looked, he could see straight lines, not a gentle curve anywhere and not a single thing out of place.
Mr. Chase seemed to be a bit of a control freak.
"I thought you wanted shelving for the bookstore?” Dave asked as they went into a room off to the right. “Archie did tell me books, specifically."
Mr. Chase shook his head. “No.” He stepped to the side and let Dave pass him. “For books, yes, but not in the shop. This room is for my collections; I have special needs, as you can see. Commercially built bookcases will not do, no matter how adjustable they are."
Dave gave a low whistle and nodded. “I see what you mean. May I?"
"Do not remove them from the closed cases, but go ahead.” Mr. Chase seemed pleased with how impressed Dave was, and he nodded approvingly when Dave supported the spine of the one book he did pick up.
"You know I'm just a carpenter, right? I don't do fine finishing work the way a fully qualified cabinet maker would. Like Archie.” But still, Dave moved to other books, already planning new and beautiful shelving for the oversized volumes. Some of them looked old, like they could be under glass. As he got to the wall he found that some actually were, stacked in what looked like an old display case from a department store.
"I don't require fancy, merely custom sized for the larger
books and generally a much deeper shelf than what I can buy. Hardwood, of course, and I'd like the boards to be thicker than normal as well, so I don't have to worry about the weight of the books. Can you do that?"
"Sure, of course.” Dave started making notes on his clipboard. “Do you want them here, in this room?” He'd have to measure the walls, find the studs, track the measurements of the books, have a list of which ones needed special treatment, maybe even order in some glass. He was going to need Archie's help, for sure.
"Yes, in here.” Mr. Chase seated himself in yet another spindly-legged chair, this one topped with a puffy, overstuffed seat. “All of the books will have to be moved out of here before you begin to work, so I'll need an hour or so notice."
Dave stopped jotting down ideas and glanced at him. “It'll take way more than an hour to move all of these books out of here, especially if the older ones are as fragile as they look."
"I have help for that.” Mr. Chase smiled serenely and snapped his fingers, and almost instantly a man stepped into the room from the hallway. “This is Wyatt. Wyatt, this is Mr. Allen. He will be working here this week. You will aid him in any way he wishes."
Dave stared as Wyatt—every inch as big and broad as he himself was—nodded, his hands behind his back.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Chase.” Wyatt's eyes were directed at the floor for a long moment and then he raised his gaze to meet Dave's. “Anything you say, sir."
Dave closed his eyes, suddenly understanding a lot of things that he didn't like to think about too hard. He was going to have to kill Archie, clearly. God damn it.
"Good boy.” Mr. Chase stood up and brushed some lint from his suit jacket. “I have a meeting with a buyer in four minutes, so I'll be downstairs. If you need me, I'll be in the specialty room, and the store will remain closed until I'm done. I'll come back up here at lunchtime, if you don't call."
"Mr. Chase.” Dave waited until Mr. Chase looked at him. “I won't need to move all of the books for a while yet—even just measuring the area and sketching shelves will take some time, and that's before I start measuring the larger volumes themselves. But I assure you, it will take longer than an hour to move all of these books."
Mr. Chase smiled at him. “We'll see.” He turned on his heel and left, leaving the door open.
Dave looked at Wyatt. “Is he for real?"
"Oh, yes.” Wyatt's hands came out from behind his back and his chin came up. “And now it's a damn sure thing that these books will be moved within an hour.” He didn't look pissed off about it, but it was pretty clear he knew who was going to be doing most of the moving.
Dave looked around the room. There were a hell of a lot of books. “I'm sorry?” He wasn't sure if he should offer an apology for being honest or not. No matter what, it was going to take time to move the books.
"Nah, no big. I'll do my best, and it's not like I haven't moved them before. There's a system. So, what's the first step?"
"Well.” Dave looked around the room and didn't see a chair that looked like it would hold him up. “Man, where do you sit in here?"
Wyatt laughed softly. “I don't."
Dave sighed and reached for his phone. “Well, first I need to touch base with Archie. I'm thinking that in order to do these books justice we'll need to bring him in. Then you and I can take the basic room dimensions and I'll start drafting some plans."
"Okay.” Wyatt seemed pretty easy going about the whole thing. “Would it help you if I moved some of the books away from the walls, at least?” he pointed to one side where the books were stacked on a sturdy table. “That's his research of the moment and I should really be the one to move those, so they stay in order."
Already pushing the speed dial for Archie, Dave nodded. “Sure, man. That'd be great. Then we can measure the wall and I'll get my stud finder."
Wyatt, to his credit, didn't even smirk, let alone go for the cheap joke. He merely started shifting some of his ... boss'? partner's? books away from where Dave would need to be.
"McBain.” Archie sounded distracted as he answered the phone, and Dave could hear the whine of a saw in the background.
"Hi, it's me. I'm at the Chase site."
"Oh, hey.” All at once Dave had Archie's attention, and the saw stopped. “There, closed the office door. Morning, babe."
Dave snorted. He looked at the spindly chair and gave it up for a lost cause, then crouched down, his clipboard balanced on one knee. “You could have given me all the information, Arch."
"What info is that?” Archie was laughing at him, chuckling softly. “He's a friend. We go way back."
"Yeah, I get that. Now. But the job is way out of my league and so is he. Although his right hand man is pretty fine.” Dave grinned as Wyatt looked over at him, his hands full of papers. “Actually, just your type, I think."
"Big?"
"Just like me, and I know you like that."
Wyatt smirked at that and went back to what he was doing. Dave thought he might be preening a little, though.
Archie was laughing in his ear. “I do like large, yes. But I know Des, and his boy is probably stepping right in line, yes? The very obedient sort?"
"Yes.” Dave rolled his eyes and started sketching straight lines to make shelves. “But I'm calling because the shelves Mr. Chase wants aren't for his store. This is fine work he'd like, and I'm sitting here looking at a lot of very expensive books, man."
There was a long pause. “He just said shelves to me—nice wood, but shelves. Who thinks they need to be fancy?"
"Well. Maybe not fancy,” Dave admitted. “Mr. Chase doesn't seem to have anything specific in mind other than making the shelves to fit the books."
"So, it's you who's feeling that there should be something special done. Or maybe you're thinking you're not good enough to play with the nice wood?"
Dave closed his eyes. “Arch. I just wish you'd told me what I was walking into, is all. And I really think you want to be in on this project."
"Okay.” Archie said it simply enough, but Dave knew that he wouldn't have dropped the matter and just agreed for anyone else. “You measure and do the prep, I'll come by after lunch. Or how about at lunch? I'll take you out and we can talk a bit."
"That'd be good.” Dave smiled and looked down at the shelves he'd been sketching. Lunch with Archie had on more than one occasion made his entire day worthwhile. “I'll see you in a few hours."
"Bye, babe."
"Bye, Arch.” He hung up and glanced at Wyatt. “Okay, so he's going to come over later and see things."
Wyatt nodded and moved a very large volume to another table. “Mr. Chase will be happy to visit with him, I'm sure. Do you really think this is beyond what he had expected to have built?"
Dave shrugged and ran his hand over the cover of a book. It was tooled leather, soft with age and handling. “I just think that with books as fine as these, the shelving should be just as fine."
Wyatt nodded, and Dave got the sense that it was approval more than agreement. “I'll just get the last of these shifted and you can tell me what to do."
Dave smiled. “You're a better man than me. I always go right for the cheap joke."
Wyatt looked startled for a moment and then laughed, a happy sound that Dave hoped he could make happen again. “Yes, well. Mr. Chase did tell me to do as you said."
"Are you flirting with me?” Dave grinned at him. “Are you allowed to do that?"
"It's never come up, but as you know how things stand with me and Mr. Chase, I suppose it's innocent enough at this stage.” Wyatt shrugged and went to pick up the last of the books. “Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Allowed to flirt."
Dave blinked for a moment and then waved a hand. “Oh, Archie? We're not like that. I mean, we have an understanding of sorts, but we're not exactly attached, and we sure don't live the same way you and Mr. Chase do. Um. You're with him, right? Romantically. You don't just work for him?"
"Right.” Wyatt laughed
again, this time in amusement. “Our arrangement is very structured, but yes, we're lovers. We're in love, as well, which makes everything so much easier. However, that doesn't mean that other ... uh, circumstances don't occasionally become part of the overall relationship."
Getting up and putting his cell phone back on his belt, Dave tried to figure out what Wyatt was saying. “Oh!” He held up his measuring tape. “Y'all are open. Got it."
"That's what I said, wasn't it?"
"Sure.” Dave grinned at him and winked. “Take this end and hold it tight in that corner, please."
Wyatt held the end of the tape. “I got the impression from Mr. Chase that he and Mr. McBain shared a past."
"Do you call him Mr. Chase all the time?"
"No, I usually call him ‘Sir.’”
Dave tried to imagine calling Archie “sir” when they were fucking. “Are you serious?” The idea of it made him want to laugh his ass off. Archie would probably choke if he tried it.
"Wow.” Wyatt was looking at him with frank curiosity. “You really don't even play the games, do you?"
"Not a one.” Dave shrugged and wrote down the width of the wall. “You can let go of that now."
The tape measure slid back with a whirring sound. “Does it bother you that Mr. Chase and I are so obvious about where we stand with each other?"
"Nope.” True—it had nothing to do with him. “You both seem nice enough and happy. He's a bit rigid with the whole right angles and straight lines thing, but that doesn't mean he's not an awesome guy, and he's certainly polite. It's none of my business how things are.” He set the clipboard down and measured the height of the room. “Do you know right off if the room is level?"
"No, sorry.” Wyatt was still studying him.
"Okay.” Dave measured the opposite wall and found that just like ninety-nine percent of all rooms, it wasn't level and likely wasn't square. He'd rough in some sketches and take exact measurements after they'd cleared out the books. Lunch with Archie, an afternoon drawing up proper plans, showing them to Mr. Chase and getting permission to go ahead. Picking wood, a morning to cut all the pieces ... Wyatt was still looking at him. “Yes?"