by P. W. Davies
“And yet, you’re avoiding the question.”
“It’s work, love. I can’t explain it any better way.” Christian leaned in closer to Victor. Touching shoulders with him, he whispered in his ear. “If you let me treat you to dinner tomorrow night, then we can talk about it some more.”
Victor remained close to Christian. When he looked up, Christian didn’t retreat, which had their faces hovering close enough for Christian to feel his breath. Those lips begged to be claimed, and without bothering to check and see if anyone else saw them, Christian gave Victor a soft, lingering kiss, his eyes shutting, and their mouths joined for interminable seconds until Christian pulled away. Mirroring Victor’s raised eyebrow, Christian smiled with more sincerity than even he wanted to.
“Go on back to your meeting,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Whatever doubt lingered in Victor’s mind, he surrendered with a nod while slowly lowering himself from the bar stool. Christian held his composure until Victor had situated himself near the mark and their co-worker, and with one final glance in Christian’s direction, he addressed the others. Once Victor’s focus had settled elsewhere, Christian slid down from his seat, producing a bill from his wallet. Slapping it onto the counter, he scurried away, waiting until he was outside before lighting the cigarette he’d been coveting.
A brisk, purposeful stride led him away from the lounge. He’d been distracted, yes, but something else had happened, and the moment when he could have recovered had been given to something else. You bloody froze, he thought. Like a goddamn deer in the headlamps. All day, he’d managed to skirt the edge of discovery and though he couldn’t have recovered the moment any better, Christian realized that this time, the two worlds had intersected.
You could break it off, he thought. The moment the idea came to mind, though, he knew he wouldn’t follow through with it. The truth was, he wanted to see Victor again.
Alright, you have until tomorrow. Time to think of a story he’ll buy.
Victor picked a spot that wasn’t exactly quiet, but it had food that he was certain Christian would enjoy. It wasn’t London, but a gastropub with English inspired fare he figured would go a long way in showing he wasn’t planning on cutting and running.
At least not without giving Christian a chance to answer a few questions.
It wasn’t as though he’d been blind to the possibility that seeing Christian twice – once, as a courier, and second, outside the restaurant where he’d met with Nathan, Samuel, and Evie – wasn’t just coincidence. There was a phrase that Victor liked quoting in those sorts of situations. Once is coincidence. Twice is happenstance. Third is enemy action.
That wasn’t to say Christian was an enemy, just that it was the contents of the quote.
And seeing Christian in the lounge had been the third time the man had popped up around his work life. It wasn’t a coincidence. So, what was it?
Victor had a few theories, one that rang as the most likely.
A job that isn’t within the bounds of rules – questionably legal on occasion, outright illegal on others.
Something that allows him to operate at all hours of the day and be considered ‘on the clock’.
Dangerous at times, although the scars are the least explained by all of this unless he’s run into rougher customers than lawyers over the years. Which he obviously has.
He used the words, ‘I’m not following you.’ Assuming my instincts were correct, and it was the truth, it’s not difficult to assume that the statement felt true on several layers. Most notably, ‘not following you’ implying that he was following someone.
There have been strange happenings regarding our case with Bechtel. Meaning, someone could be wanting a closer look at all of us handling the case.
A closer look, operating at strange hours, dangerous, largely not strictly legal, and follows people.
It was very possible that Christian was a PI.
Aside from being the tidiest explanation to the list of observations Victor had made about the man, Christian’s ability to notice details was one of the largest other indicators that a private investigator’s life was what brought in his paychecks. However, it also left a sour taste in Victor’s mouth. It was possible that Christian was just using him as a point of access to whoever he was tailing.
Victor didn’t think so, but he couldn’t dismiss the notion outright. He’d have to ask Christian to find out the truth. And he would have to ask enough questions to answer the riddle of why he kept running into Christian outside of their ‘dates’. That made Victor pause. A thrill ran up his spine as he considered whether dinner tonight would be their first official date.
A shame that it might be our last.
Still, Victor held out hope. If Christian was a PI, and was looking into someone Victor worked with, they would just have to set some ground rules. After all, PI’s were often invaluable to Victor’s line of work. Politicians had opposition research. Corporate lawyers had PIs. For as honest as you wanted your clients to be, there were plenty of times it was impossible to be certain they had revealed everything that related to their need for a lawyer. The first time Nathan had mentioned having a PI look into one of their clients, Victor had been stunned.
After it was revealed their client’s mistress worked for the company he was trying to buy, Victor understood the wisdom and never questioned it again.
Lawyers could only offer sound advice if they had all the facts. PIs provided them, and most of the time their clients were none the wiser. If everyone was fortunate, they were also all a bit richer at the end of the day with no threat of the justice department taking issue.
Still. Being a PI meant knowing things that were often best left in the dark. Victor would have to be clear that he had no intention of helping Christian with his work in any way. He just wouldn’t stop him if it was what he was doing.
If it was the truth. Which he still needed to find out.
After he got ready for their date.
He picked up the phone to call Evie and was very grateful when she answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” her voice sounded from the other side. “Don’t tell me that Nathan needs us to come in because Jeffries got cold feet again.”
Victor smiled. “Nothing like that,” he said. “I’m not calling for work.”
“Oh, dear. Well if you were hoping for my company this evening, I’m afraid you’re a bit late to the calendar.”
He could hear what sounded like a crowd in the background of their call. “As much as I enjoy our outings, I’m actually calling for your advice. I have a second – third, technically – evening planned with Christian and I’m not certain how it looks.”
“It or you, darling? Hold on.” Victor thought she might be finding somewhere quieter to speak. “You should wear something other than your suits. Has he seen you dressed down yet?”
“No. I’m fairly confident of my attire, but I appreciate your concern about always being overdressed.”
“You’re a peacock, Victor. And you know how good you look in those suits.” She sounded amused.
“And I have plenty of examples to prove how right that is.” He paused. “I’m dressing down, so don’t fret. My actual question has to do with where we end up.”
“End up?”
“Should I invite him home?”
There was a longer pause, this time on the other end of the line. “Third date?”
“Second serious one.”
“It’s always serious with you.”
Victor couldn’t bring himself to disagree.
“Not yet,” she said after a moment. “You want to show off, and hope he sees that for all your money and profession, that you’re still someone he can connect with. I’ll be honest and say something as your friend, Victor. Wanting to invite him home means you’re moving quickly. You told me you didn’t think you were ready to date again, and I’m inclined to agree with you. So, no, don’t invite him home. Especially
not before I get a chance to meet him and save you from yourself.”
The last bit was said with an air of playfulness. Victor smiled. “You just want a chance at him.”
“I have no idea why you’d say that. Why? Does he like women, too?”
“It is one of the things we distinctly have in common.”
“Well consider me jealous,” she said, sounding distinctly not jealous. “But, no fear. You have first dibs. I just won’t mind if you send him my way when you’re finished.”
Victor almost replied, Who says I’ll ever be finished? Almost. Because as the words rattled through his mind he realized that Evie was right.
He was moving quickly. And was clearly more attached to Christian than he realized.
“I’ll be certain to put a good word in,” he said instead, recovering smoothly.
Victor and Evie said their goodbyes. She even did him the favor of not pointing out exactly what his silence and insincere reply meant.
Because she was a good friend. And at the end of the day, she hoped Victor was on his way to finding happiness again.
Victor thought he would be the first to arrive. He was wrong.
Christian was seated at the bar counter downstairs, availing himself of a drink while waiting for their reserved table to be available. He was wearing his leather jacket again, which Victor refused to notice hugged his shoulders in a way that demanded attention. Jeans, boots, and what must have been a plain v-neck t-shirt completed his look. Victor only knew about the shirt because he could see it in the mirror mounted behind the bar.
Which meant that Christian knew he was there. They hadn’t made eye contact yet, but Victor was certain. Observant of people. He lingered in the room for a moment, wanting to give Christian the right impression. He wanted to be here. Some of that was against his practical nature. But Christian had the potential to mean something, and it was worth giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Plus, Victor thought to himself, although it bothered him to consider it, If Christian is looking into Nathan or Samuel, that means he’s looking into Crispin & Hawke. There is a chance that, if this doesn’t go the way I want, I can still make something of the evening.
Victor shoved that thought into a dark room of his mind and triple locked the door in favor of stepping to Christian’s side while offering him a warm smile. He nodded at the bartender who looked up as he sat on an open stool. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Brave fellow. You didn’t even check what’s in the glass,” Christian glanced over his shoulder.
“Consider it apropos for my mood,” Victor replied. “You have been treating me well. I’d like to see that continue, even if we’re a bit more ‘trust but verify’ this evening.”
Christian looked amused, but also concerned. Clearly, whatever he had expected from Victor wasn’t how things were going.
Good. If he’s off guard, he’ll be more honest. ”I never asked you when you moved here. Or are you just visiting?”
The bartender returned with Victor’s drink, which he discovered was cognac after the first sip. It surprised him, and he wondered what had made Christian choose it.
Determined to act as though there wasn’t an air of uncertainty between the two of them, Victor turned more in his chair to see Christian better. Just in time to watch him forcibly relax. It almost looked painful. “Seven months. Semi-permanent relocation, with potential to be permanent.” Each word came easier than the last and Victor seized onto that momentum.
“You were able to find work easily enough?” He sipped his drink again, making full eye contact with Christian.
“Easily enough.” Christian’s eyes narrowed, but Victor spurred the conversation onward.
“And a place to stay? I bought my place a few years ago, so I’m not as familiar with the market these days.”
There was a pause, before Christian answered. “I bounced through some of the long-term hotels when I first arrived. Once I got my feet under me, finding a place to rent was just a matter of patience.” He looked thoughtful. “And of finding an agent who understood that my list of requirements was non-negotiable.”
Victor gave him a light grin. “They do seem to be fond of ‘wish-lists’ and ‘requirements’ one some sort of sliding scale. I had to compromise on the size of my kitchen.”
Christian shook his head. “My kitchen gets next to no use.”
“I cook,” Victor offered. “A girlfriend back in college insisted that it was healthier, and she wasn’t wrong. Plus, I can experiment with different dishes when I’m in the mood.”
Christian made a show of looking wary. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those meal-kit blokes.”
Victor’s grin grew, and he took a larger drink before answering. “Sadly, I have to disappoint you. I’ve tried most of the delivery services. The fact that they put all the parts in a single box is invaluable with my schedule.”
He watched Christian take a long drain on his own glass. “How many hours a week do you work?”
Victor was relieved. It seemed that Christian was catching on to the game. “Sixty. Sometimes more when there’s a case with a deadline, or the potential to bring in a lot of money. Like what I’m working on currently.”
To be fair, it wasn’t a game so much as a mode of banter. Victor still had things he wanted to know about Christian, but he didn’t want it to be one-sided.
“Which category does it fall into?” Christian asked.
“Money, mostly. Something of a deadline. The negotiations have been going on longer than we originally projected. Which isn’t a problem, except that it gives the client cause to worry about money. We try not to look like we’re just milking the cow.”
That made Christian grin. “I cannot imagine you anywhere near a cow.”
Victor was saved from answering right away because the hostess informed them their table was ready.
More relaxed now than when Victor had first walked in, he and Christian followed her through the converted house. Christian seemed to appreciate some of the decor, because his gaze lingered here and there as they walked to where they would be seated. Menus deposited, a quick list of their specials for the night, and they were left alone. In a crowded room, of course, but together.
Victor tried to push down the butterflies that thought inspired. Yes, together. Still need to sort out what he’s doing around you. Priorities.
Their conversation turned toward food.
“I wonder if it’s real Sheppard’s pie,” Christian sounded extremely skeptical. “Fish and chips, I learned my lesson.”
“This should be an improvement on wherever you did have it. But I couldn’t say one way to the other how it compares to home.”
Christian winced. It was subtle, and if Victor hadn’t been watching for it he would never have seen it.
So, he is sore about something from back in London. Personal or professional?
“I’ll risk the pie,” Christian resolved. “No one’s gotten the chips right.”
“I’ll pick something, so you can try them. And if they aren’t up to par, I’ll just ask you to reserve judgement if I clear the plate.”
Christian set his menu down, looking Victor over. It wasn’t just an evaluating glance. Victor distinctly got the impression Christian was running his hands beneath his clothing in his mind and was projecting that feeling toward Victor.
It worked.
“Would you clear the plate? You mentioned healthy cooking. And you work out. Doesn’t something about this go against a code, or something?”
Victor chuckled and shook his head. “I run. Almost every day. It gives me the liberty to eat more than I might let myself otherwise.” He set his own menu down and leveled his gaze at Christian, returning the expression he’d just received measure for measure. When Christian shifted in his seat to cover a shiver of desire, Victor smirked. “I use a gym once a week as well. For what running doesn’t help with. You could come with me tomorrow if you wanted.”
Professional or personal. I need to know.
Which became Victor’s goal for the rest of the evening. They ordered food and another round of drinks. Exchanged more conversation that stepped toward the line of personal, sharing more about background and family without much hesitation. Christian relaxed into those parts of the conversation, aside from when he informed Victor he was an orphan. It caught Victor off guard, but Christian seemed intent on simply making note of it as part of his history and not something he wanted pity for.
Victor responded by telling Christian about his home in Las Vegas, growing up with his parents and two younger brothers. Christian had an older brother, which Victor found fitting. It even explained some of their attraction to one another, personalities meshing in that way older and younger siblings are conditioned to.
Work was where they ran into more problems talking about. Christian was evasive while being open, and Victor got the sense that there were good reasons he wasn’t revealing more about his profession. It helped relieve Victor. Rules, definitely. But not impossible to overcome.
“What I do doesn’t concern you, though, I promise,” Christian said, as if he knew somehow that had been what Victor sought. They exchanged a look, plates emptied of food with the check waiting to be picked up by the waitress. Christian reached a hand to toy with Victor’s fingers, the pads of his skin running up to the back of Victor’s palm. Within seconds, it brought Victor back to reliving the other night.
“We can discuss it more another time,” Victor volunteered. His thumb slid upward, touching the other man’s hand. “At the same time, it does concern somebody else.”