Lucinda gave an unladylike snort. “Well, duh, sweetie. You’re the best at what you do.” She glanced down at the trash bin. “Shit. I’m out of coffee and I can’t drink that foul stuff you make. I’m gonna run down and grab another. You want one?”
Kyle nodded. “Large mocha for me. None of that pretentious shit you order. Skinny cappuccino with an extra shot, dash of vanilla, extra steaming and a great dollop of I don’t give a fuck.” He smiled wickedly. “That last bit is the free ingredient you get from the hard- done-by barista.”
Lucinda tossed her hair over her shoulder with a hand. “Don’t get all bitchy with me just because you haven’t been boned yet by your man in uniform.” Her eyes widened. “Unless you and he have…you know.” She made an obscene gesture with her hand and fingers.
He flushed. “Piss off. My sex life is out of bounds to you. I still remember the last time in Vegas when you did that Photoshopped video montage of me as an Easter bunny. Rabbits running from hole to hole? That was your crazy right there. I’d dread to think what you’d do if I gave you any details.”
She cackled. “Oh yeah. I remember that. You’re lucky I only sent it to your phone. I had almost convinced the guys to put it on the big screen in the private casino for your viewing.”
He laughed with her, but he was also remembering the sense of relief he’d felt when he’d deleted the vid off his phone before Mario had seen it during one of his routine mobile phone inspections. That video could have cost Kyle a broken arm or leg, or worse.
Lucinda must have sensed his mood change because she put a soft, warm hand on his cheek. “That was before I knew about your situation at home. I felt so damn bad knowing I could have got you into trouble with that douchebag.”
Lucinda refused to refer to Mario as anything else. She said he’d deserved to be objectified and the term suited him better than his name. Kyle had been curious and had gone online to research the name “Mario.” In various languages, it represented being male, virile, bitter, the God of War and a hammer. He’d given a humourless laugh when he’d discovered that.
“Yeah, well. He’s not around anymore. Now are you going to get us that coffee or not?”
Need to change this subject. I don’t want to dredge up any more bad memories.
She stuck out her tongue. “Yes, my lord. Her ladyship shall tootle off without delay.” Her eyes widened. “Tootle? I never say that. It’s your English vernacular rubbing off on me, mate.” Her attempt at an English accent made him cringe.
Picking up her bohemian-style shawl, she wrapped it around her shoulders and made her way to the door. “I’ll pick us a couple of doughnuts too. Sprinkles for you?”
He nodded, his groin warming at the thought of what had happened the last time he’d eaten a doughnut. “Sounds good. Now bugger off and leave me in peace for a minute. I have something to finish.”
He watched fondly as she flounced out the door. He didn’t know where he’d be without her. It was a pity her home was across the pond.
His mobile buzzed. He grinned when he saw the caller ID. Eric. “Hi there. How are things going?”
“They’re good. Been working my arse off but got a few days off now.” Eric sounded tired. “I have some family commitments. My sister’s getting married tomorrow. She’s in Somerset with my folks, so I’ll be driving there in the morning. I have tonight free though, and I was chancing that we might be able to get together for a drink or something?”
Kyle’s stomach gave a strange flutter. “I love the offer, but it’s Friday night and the club will be packed. And with Ryan not being here…” His voice trailed off. “Sorry, but I doubt I’ll escape long enough to take a pee, let alone have a drink.”
Eric’s sigh echoed down the phone. “I thought as much. This isn’t going to be easy, is it?”
Kyle was confused. “What isn’t going to be easy?”
“Getting to see you again.” The smile in Eric’s voice made those butterflies in Kyle’s stomach speed up. “Our working lives are definitely not conducive to courting someone.”
He swallowed. “Courting someone?”
He almost felt Eric’s shrug. “Well, yeah,” he replied. “Trying to at least.” He laughed softly and Kyle’s insides turned to mush.
God, that man sounds sexy. His laugh is like honey poured over a Belgian waffle. Sweet and decadent.
“I have the usual time off, Sunday and Monday. When do you get back from your family wedding?”
“I plan on leaving Sunday morning. My mum won’t let me leave without feeding me a full English before I go. Dad will probably want to shoot the breeze about the latest developments in apple farming.”
“Your folks have a farm?” Kyle was enchanted. He’d always lived in cities, even as a kid, and often yearned for a bit of outdoor space and greenery, complete with the requisite baby pig, lamb and, possibly, even a dog.
Eric chuckled. “Yeah, my dad grows apples and makes cider for some of the local markets. It’s not a huge place, but it was a great place to grow up in.” His tone grew fond. “Shelley—my sister who’s getting married tomorrow—and I used to be run around the orchards, helping my dad pick the fruit. We’d eat a lot of it, and give ourselves tummy aches. Good times.”
“Sounds great,” Kyle said wistfully. “I’ve never been on a farm before.”
“Never?” Eric said in surprise. “We can’t have that. I’ll have to take you down to see it one day. Meet the folks.”
There was a long pause then Eric spoke again, sounding a little uncomfortable. “I mean, you know, as a friend. Not like to introduce you to the parents and declare undying love. Crap, I’m really digging myself a hole here, aren’t I?”
Kyle laughed. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not expecting a ring or anything. Visiting your farm would be cool.”
“Good.” Eric’s relief was palpable. “Anyway, back to the whole date thing. I’m pretty sure I can wangle Monday off somehow. I have a colleague who owes me a favour. Perhaps we can meet for dinner somewhere, maybe that restaurant called Galileo’s in Soho? Ryan says it’s well worth a visit. Apparently, a lot of people he knows eat there and rave about it.”
Kyle was interrupted from replying as Lucinda walked in. She held up his coffee and he nodded his thanks. She sat down in her spot and the slurping noises commenced. He shook his head at her in irritation. Her answer was to slurp louder.
Glaring at his friend, he realised he hadn’t replied yet. “Yes, that sounds great. Are you sure it’s open? A lot of restaurants close on Mondays.”
“It’s open,” Eric assured him. “They’re open all week round, I think. Shall we say seven-thirty?”
“Suits me fine,” Kyle confirmed.
“Okay, see you Monday. I look forward to it.” Eric rang off.
“You have a date then?” Lucinda asked around a mouthful of what looked like chocolate chip cookie. She nudged the white box over to him, indicating his doughnut inside. He sighed as he picked it up. “Yes. Sort of. Dinner at Galileo’s.”
Lucinda’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, I’ve heard about that place. Didn’t it just win a Glass Clove Award for the most promising venue of the year?”
“I have no idea. I don’t read the gossip and social magazines like you do.” He bit into his doughnut and gave a blissful moan. “God, this tastes good. Although it’s going straight to my damn hips.”
His friend stuck her middle finger up. “What damned hips? You’re all lean and muscled. It’s my hips you should be worrying about. I might have to buy two seats to fly back to the U.S. at the rate I’m eating these things.” She gestured to her cookie. “I think I might be addicted to these peanut butter choc chip ones.”
Kyle knew the feeling. If he didn’t watch out, he may be in danger of getting addicted to the sexy stud muffin called Eric Kirby.
Saturday night at the club, Kyle was run off his feet. He’d been persuasive enough to coerce Lucinda into helping him. She’d assisted Jim getting the bar organised, and chec
ked out the restrooms. She had refused to step foot in the hedonistic bathroom known as Deep Purple— Kyle had to face that one himself. Now, from the looks of it, she was entertaining the patrons. She was up on stage with Molly Luscious, one of the regular drag queen acts. Lucinda was dressed up as Charlie Chaplin, hat and cane at the ready, and she and Molly were no doubt trading insults and bitchiness.
He turned to fish out Ryan’s secret whisky stash in his bottom desk drawer, opened it up and poured a shot, which Kyle tossed back like a boss.
Wow, that tastes surprisingly good. So smooth.
He took another swig then set the glass down on the desk.
Another two hours to go and he’d be on his way home. Lucinda was staying with him tonight as she planned on having brunch nearby with some friends in the morning. He’d be glad of her company. And he still had his dinner date with Eric to look forward to.
Kyle smiled dreamily. Eric was something else. He was warm and funny, and when he was around, Kyle felt safe. Cherished. It had been a long time since anyone had made him feel that way.
Still daydreaming about the man in his life, he turned and walked over to his office door, intending to walk down and check on how things were going with Rufus and Greg. As he opened the door, he was met with a wall of grey button-down shirt and black jeans. The man reeked of expensive bourbon. He stood there, hand held up as if to knock on his door. His face was flushed, looking truly pissed off. Kyle could feel the waves of anger coming off him.
A frisson of fear crept down his spine, and for a moment he was frozen on the spot. He cleared his throat, hand on the doorknob, ready to smash it closed should this guy be a threat of any kind.
“Can I help you?” Kyle enquired, trying to keep his voice even.
The stairs to the office were marked as “Private/No entry” but there was nothing stopping anyone coming up to see him. It happened all the time.
“I dunno, mate. Can you? Where is she?” the man slurred, taking a step forward. Kyle instinctively stepped back.
“Where is who?”
Man Mountain stepped forward. “My girlfriend, you tosser. She went out to use the bathroom and I haven’t seen ’er since. Someone said she came up here.”
“She’s not here, mate. I haven’t seen any ladies up here.” He held up a hand, and pointed behind him. “Why don’t we go downstairs, see if we can find her? Perhaps she’s got lost or stepped out for a smoke.”
“Nancy doesn’t smoke, you twat.” The man’s eyes were red, his mouth a snarl, and Kyle tried to stave off the panic rising in his chest.
“Then perhaps she’s in the bathroom.” He swallowed as the man took another step toward him. There wasn’t much saliva in his dry mouth.
Please God, don’t let me find her lost in Deep Purple. I don’t think Ryan could afford the trauma payments when she sues the club.
“I knew this was a mistake coming here. Gay clubs aren’t for ladies like my Nance,” the man spat. “Guys can tell a bird they’re gay but be straight and get them to do all sorts, like show their tits off. I’ve seen it.” He glared balefully at Kyle. “Have you seen ’em then? Nance’s tits?”
“Sir, I can assure you no one has been up here and I most certainly haven’t seen anyone’s tits.” He was finding it hard to breathe as the man pressed closer. The familiar tingle of fear spread from his insides to his extremities. “And I can assure you I have no desire to do so. I’m a real gay, not a pseudo one. Now can we go downstairs to try and find her?”
The man raised his fist menacingly and pushed Kyle back with his other meaty hand. “Not before I check this room, make sure she’s not ’ere. Move over.”
Kyle stood to one side as Man Mountain brushed roughly past him. He took a few deep breaths and willed his heart to slow down.
This isn’t Mario. This is nothing like Mario. One, two, three….
He hoped someone had seen the man come upstairs and had followed to investigate. He wasn’t the right size to fight a guy like this, and it wasn’t as if he had any ninja skills or anything.
“Nancy, darlin’, are you here? Come out, sweetie. I won’t be angry, I promise,” Man Mountain cooed as he searched the office. It didn’t take long. The office wasn’t big and apart from the small en-suite bathroom, there were no doors other than the one leading to the stairs.
Man Mountain’s face grew darker as his search turned up nothing. He pivoted swiftly and punched the wall next to Kyle. His head swam as he ducked down, instinctively raising his arms in front of his face. His gut churned and he wanted to vomit. Plaster exploded in fragments, covering him with fine dust and shards.
Not the dark touch, please. Not again.
Kyle’s vision swam and for one sickening moment Mario’s voice echoed in his head.
You asked for it, you slut. It’s your fault I’m like this. You’ve infected me with your body and those cow eyes. Bend over and get ready for a beating. God lets me punish sinners like you.
“I wasn’t going to hit you, mate. No need to look so scared.” Man Mountain’s voice toned softened. When Kyle looked up he could see the guy was puzzled, as if he couldn’t believe his behaviour could cause such a reaction.
Kyle wasn’t taking chances. He scrabbled up, moving toward the door, and in his haste, his backside hit the desk, the corner sinking deep into the back of his buttock. The pain radiated down his leg and he gasped. “Shit, that hurts.”
The guy’s expression turned to concern and he shuffled towards him. “You okay, mate?”
Kyle managed to speak. Just. His buttock throbbed and he was coated with fear. “Yes. Go. Away. Your girlfriend isn’t here. You can see that.” He motioned desperately around him, hating that he felt so helpless. Useless. “Go downstairs and look for her. I’m sure if you look hard enough you’ll find her.”
Maybe she ran away from your sorry, bullying arse. I wouldn’t blame her. That’s what I did.
The guy looked confused for a second then his face cleared. “Yeah, she isn’t here, is she? Whoever said she’d come up here must have been mistaken.”
Give the gorilla a banana, Kyle thought viciously. Hell, give him a fucking bunch.
“No, she isn’t. Now piss off.”
The guy ambled to the door, looking shamefaced. “Sorry, mate,” he said apologetically. “I wasn’t goin’ to hurt ya. Sometimes my temper gets the better of me.”
You don’t say.
Now that Kyle was feeling a little safer, his catty side couldn’t resist a parting shot. “I’m sure you two deserve each other.”
The guy nodded, a dreamy grin on his face. “We’re getting married in September. She’s gonna be Mrs. Lloyd Glasscock then.” He smiled proudly.
Despite his recent panic, Kyle smothered a giggle of hysteria. He thought perhaps he might have to send a sympathy card to the unfortunate Nancy having a surname like that. Poor kids if ever there were any.
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy together,” he managed between gritted teeth.
Lloyd nodded and left the office.
No sooner had he gone than Kyle closed and locked the door. He strode over to the desk and poured a stiff whisky then knocked it back. He knew that lately he was drinking more than he should, but by God, he needed this right now.
He was starting to feel a little buzzed. Between nearly getting beaten up, not eating anything substantial, and imbibing two hefty glasses of Ryan’s treasured ten-year-old Ardbeg, Kyle wasn’t surprised he felt his knees wobble.
His hands shook as he poured himself another, and then he closed his eyes, feeling the burn of the whisky as it traced a path down his throat. Perhaps it would wash away the taste of shame and self-loathing at the fact he’d fallen to pieces.
Again.
Light burnt his eyelids and seared into his brain. Kyle opened one bleary eye and looked around. He didn’t recognise the place he was lying in, so he closed his eyes again. There was a chuckle from somewhere above him, and once again he opened his eyes and stared abou
t blearily. He vaguely made out the figure of Lucinda sitting curled up in the bench window overlooking the street below.
He was still at the club.
He groaned loudly and sat up. His head throbbed liked two ninjas were battling it out with nunchaku and flying stars. “Oh shit,” he croaked. “What did I do?”
“You drank nearly half a bottle of Ryan’s treasured whisky, passed out on the desk and spent the night here. As did I.” Lucinda uncurled her long limbs and strode over to where he lay. He now recognised the couch in the office as being his resting place.
“Jim and I managed to get your sorry arse onto the couch, and then after we locked up, he made up one of the private cubicles downstairs into a sleeping pad with blankets, and that’s where I slept.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pass out. I was just…” his voice tailed off.
Lucinda smirked. “Having a party for one, it looked like. Did you even eat yesterday?”
Kyle shook his head and wished he hadn’t. “I don’t think so. Fuck, my head hurts.”
Lucinda handed him a couple of tablets and a glass of water. “I thought you might need these. It’s Advil. Get it down you.” She frowned. “What got into you anyway? It’s not usual for you to overindulge like that.”
He didn’t want to tell her the truth—that a man had frightened him, made him think of his past, his inadequacies, his shame. He’d told her he was dealing with it, but there were those loitering pockets of angst and uncertainty when he found himself in situations he thought he couldn’t control; then it all came rushing back.
Kyle swallowed the pills with water then lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. “Everything caught up with me, I guess. Worried about Ryan. I just needed to blow off some steam.”
She regarded him and for a split second it was as if she knew he was lying. Then she shrugged. “We all have those times. But if anything is wrong, I expect you’d tell me about it, yeah? That’s why we’re besties.”
Survival Game (Men of London Book 9) Page 6