Briefcase Booty

by SA Welsh

  Looking down at his son, Peter winked when Loukas glanced up at him. “You’re just too cute, aren’t you? I wish I had your appeal,” he whispered proudly.

  Noise to the left caught his attention, and he sighed with relief at people with children taking the empty table next to them. He recognized a few faces from his office too, even though they were in different departments. One of the women caught his eye and smiled, obviously noticing his relief at there being other children there.

  “We couldn’t resist bringing our kids this year, since it was a pirate show. They’d never forgive us if we left them at home,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  All of a sudden the lights dipped, and music started to ripple through the theatre. A line of pirates in classic garb filed in to the room, in well organized and almost synchronized turns, delivering chicken and fries with salad bowls and fresh crusty rolls to every table.

  Loukas squealed, but looking quickly down at his son Peter saw his little boy stretching up, parrot in hand and trying to show his toy to a passing pirate. Laughing, he leaned over and went to distract Loukas, but the pirate beat him to it.

  The pirate gave him a wink and bent close to his son. “Arrrrrrrgggh, little mate.”

  The look on Loukas’s face was priceless, and Peter cursed that he hadn’t had a camera ready. A flash came from by the side of them and he smiled as he saw a young woman with a camera taking pictures of their table. But she disappeared. She was on to the next table before he could ask her for the photo.

  Perhaps she’d be back, once she’d done the rounds, to sell the photos. “Don’t worry, mate, the photos’ll be ‘round in a li’l bit,” the pirate reassured him before moving on to interact with the other kids.

  Peter got out Loukas’s food and tried to convince him to eat some of the broccoli-and-potato mash. He made all the baby food fresh on weekends and froze for the coming week, since he'd heard a story on the news about a batch of baby food being contaminated. No way was he risking his baby boy eating anything that could be contaminated. So he bought breast-milk from the female nurse down the road whose baby preferred formula and gave Loukas that alongside what food he made himself. It was all done officially through the hospital where they made sure the milk was safe. Loukas ate the whole dose, burped happily, and fell asleep, freeing Peter to eat his own dinner.

  When the meals were finished the waiters came back and whisked everything away, bringing more soda, champagne, wine and ice-water for the table. The lights dipped as they had before, but this time stayed at a lower level, leaving only the stage lit in misty illumination.

  A heavy slow drumbeat whispered through the speakers dotted around the room and steadily grew louder, like a marching beat. Mr. Donne exclaimed and pointed behind him.

  Everyone with them looked that way, and Peter had to wrench his neck almost a full one-eighty to see what the fuss was about.

  It was worth the crick in his neck, though.

  There were about thirty pirates, split into two groups, all carrying firelit torches and moving in time to the drumbeat. The rhythm of one foot forward, as a group echoed alongside a deep hum on the end of each beat, built the atmosphere. It was captivating and enthralling, and nobody could look away.

  The pirates steadily made their way down the aisle, the fire lighting where the electric lights had dimmed. The torches were set in stands surrounding the stage, glowing orange and hot in the darkness as the pirates who’d carried them stood next them, half shrouded in shadow.

  A narrating voice came through the speakers, introducing the pirate captains that would be in the show. All of the people involved with the show had a character, and each table had some allegiance or another to one or more of the captains.

  The pirate captains got cheers from the audience, and Loukas woke and shouted and clapped right along with them, making Peter smile again at just how cute his son was.

  And of course there were the enemy pirates. Everyone booed as instructed, even his CEO, when the baddies came to the stage.

  Suddenly the music picked up pace, and everyone gasped when a man flew over their heads. Holy crap! The man, shirtless and wearing a skull bandanna with leather breeches, spun in intricate circles above them, swinging gracefully and effortlessly through the air.

  It wasn’t rope holding the man up though. It was two long strips of material that ran the length of the ceiling to the stage floor. Silks, he thought they were called.

  And the man, the flying pirate with shoulder-length blond hair, was keeping himself aloft and moving simply with the power of his massive arm muscles.

  “Wow,” he whispered, as once more the man swung above them. If he dared to reach up, he knew, he’d be able to touch the man. It was an unbelievable sight.

  Gliding overhead, the pirate controlled his flight until he was hanging instead of swinging, and Peter thought that was it—until the man seemed to wind the cloth around his hands and arms. The pirate, amazingly, defying gravity, rolled backwards and upwards, scissoring his legs at the same time.

  In a complicated series of tangling and winding, the man climbed almost to the ceiling, at the very top of his silks. Peter didn’t know what the hell was going to happen next, but he had a feeling it was going to be amazing.

  He was right.

  No sooner did he finish the thought than the pirate let go of the silks and fell towards the floor. Where the cloth was wrapped around him, it made the man spin and turn and spiral as if he was completely immune to gravity’s pull.

  When he was but several inches from the floor, Peter was afraid something had gone wrong and the man was going to crash into the stage, but with a flick of his wrist the pirate came to a complete stop. Then he simply let the cloth fall away, and did a forward scissor flip to land on his feet facing the audience.

  Peter had never seen anything like it.

  The pirate took a bow, and then a noise to the back of the theatre caught everyone’s attention as another part of the show began. It was amazing, hypnotic even, and all Peter could do was watch in awe and clap whenever there was a slight pause.

  There were more acrobatics and wild highflying jumps through the air with complicated partner work, that blew him away. But his mind kept straying back to the flying pirate.

  Loukas didn’t even make a sound until there was a particularly loud bang. In the performance, the pirates they been introduced to at the beginning of the show were under enemy cannon attack.

  To be fair, the bang did vibrate through the seats, so he couldn’t blame his son for being scared.

  Picking Loukas up, he tried to calm the baby, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Glancing at his watch, he realized two hours had passed. It was way past Loukas’ bedtime, and his boy had been so good.

  “Mr. Sutcliff, do you need to leave?” Mr. Donne asked, leaning over the able.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, sir. I need to get my son home. Thank you so much for the invitation to—”

  Another loud bang cut him off and Loukas screamed, dropping the parrot to hold hands up to his ears.

  Oh, his poor baby. People in the audience were starting to turn around and stare, but that was just too bad. He felt awful that he was detracting attention away from the performers, but it couldn’t be helped.

  In the dim light it was next to impossible to see his bags, but he managed to find them and pick them up, and the carrier. He didn’t put Loukas in it since his son was still crying and hiding in the collar of his shirt.

  Now if only he could find that damn parrot.

  “Shhhhh it’s okay. Daddy’s taking you home now. Shhhhh. There’s a good boy for Daddy. My brave boy,” he cooed, bobbing Loukas in his arms when the little boy looked up at him with red eyes and sniffled. At least there weren’t any more tears for the moment.

  He spoke too soon. Loukas looked at his hand in shock, as if just realizing the parrot wasn’t there anymore, and the crying began again. Huge tears slid down his son�
��s cheeks this time, and his little lip quivered in misery.

  As quickly as he could, Peter slid out of the booth and made his way towards the door. Maybe he could drive back here tomorrow and buy another parrot.

  Please let him be able to get another parrot.

  Loukas started fussing again, and Peter prayed he’d be able to get him in the car before the siren screams started. His boy had a damn good set of lungs on him, and when the little tyke thought he wasn’t getting the attention he deserved, he let them loose.

  In that way babies were like cats. If you displeased them, then you knew it fast.

  He gave one last look back towards his table in the hope that the parrot would magically appear, but predictably it wasn’t to be.

  Just as he reached the door he heard a few more cannon shots, and thanked god he’d left when he did since they weren’t as loud out here. Luckily, Loukas seemed too preoccupied with a few pirates who were guarding the door from enemy pirates to notice

  Peter recognized a couple from the acrobatic jumps and strength performances earlier in the show. “I’m sorry I have to leave. It has been amazing, and I’ll definitely be back.”

  “We’re here for the year, but I’m sorry you couldn’t stay to see the ending. It’s really cool,” the youngest pirate commiserated.

  The older pirate next to him hadn’t broken character yet, and still wore the fierce lopsided scowl directed right at his son. So that’s what Loukas was looking at.

  Before he could say something, the guy blew a raspberry. And Loukas immediately blew one right back. It was so cute.

  The young one opened the door and held it so he could step through as Loukas and the older pirate kept up the raspberry blowing conversation.

  “Wait! Conto, stop him!”

  A hand clamped on his shoulder. “Wait up, there. Lulu wants a word, I think.”

  Turning around, Peter saw a familiar skull bandanna heading through the crowds and tables towards him: the flying pirate. The man jogged up to them and skidded to a stop.

  His flying pirate was about his height but much more built, and up close he wore thick smudge of black eye paint. There was something familiar about him, though.

  Solid shoulder muscles led down to wide pecs with small brown pebbled nipples. There wasn’t just a six pack below that; there was a whole eight, with a deep chiseled V on the hips until all the muscle disappeared under the faded brown leather breeches.

  One of the other pirates coughed and Peter realized he had been standing there gawping. And checking out the flying pirate as if the man was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  “Here. I think your son dropped this,” the flying pirate said with a smile that made Peter’s breath hitch.

  The man he’d been ogling thankfully either didn’t notice his staring or was polite enough not to mention it. Wow. What was wrong with him? He’d never reacted like this to a man before.

  Shaking his head, he managed to concentrate on what the man was holding. Okay, the man was officially perfect. In the hand of the god before him was the bright green-and-pink, eye-patched parrot, complete with the soggy, chewed, wooden leg.

  Loukas threw his weight forward, and Peter had to drop the bags he was holding to keep a safe grip on him. Little terror. “Thank you, he would have made me pay for not finding it later,” he admitted with a smile.

  His pirate—and he really needed to stop thinking of him as that—smiled back. The man laughed, stepped closer, smoothed Loukas’ brown hair back and gave him the parrot.

  “Thank you,” Peter repeated, as his little son cooed.

  “Let me walk you to your car?” His pirate grabbed something red off a hook by the door. Peter couldn’t tell what it was until the man put it on. It was a red waistcoat with frayed edges and a hole here or there. It completed the sexy pirate look perfectly.

  Licking his lips, Peter tried to think of a reason to say no but nothing came to mind. “Umm, sure.” It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy; clearly he was nice, and certainly hot, but it was eerie to be attracted to another man.

  Picking up his bags, his pirate showed him out of the door and they headed towards the car park. “So why are you leaving early?” the man asked. “Us pirates not exciting enough for you?”

  Peter snapped his head around ready to deny it and say how wonderful everything he saw was, when he noticed the guy was grinning. “Don’t tease. I thought it was amazing, but Loukas wasn’t a fan of the cannons.”

  “Oh man, I’m sorry about that. Our regular sound-guy called in sick, and the replacement is a bit of a douche. The cannons aren’t usually that loud. If you come back next week, Carren will sort you out with a good table.”

  Peter wasn’t a homophobe, far from it. As the saying went, some of his best friends were gay—or at least the people who used to be his friends. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little terrified inside that he wanted to touch the man.

  They walked to the car park in relative silence until he remembered where his car was. “I’m just over here.”

  Then he realized he’d never asked the pirate’s name. “I’m really sorry I didn’t get your name. What you did on the silks, it was amazing, and I’ve never seen anything like that. I’m Peter Sutcliff, and this is my little boy Loukas” he introduced, with a nod and a smile to his son.

  Chapter Three

  “Okaaaaay. So I’m going to go put Loukas in his car seat now,” he said to fill the awkward silence.

  “Peter Sutcliff who used to have a tree-house, and whose mom made then best cookies ever?”

  Now he was the one in staring in shock. “Yeah,” he drew the word out.

  His pirate put the bags down next to his car and then pulled off the bandana. “Don’t tell me I’ve changed that much in twenty years,” the man teased with a wink.

  This time, when Peter looked at the man, he tried to see past all the pirate paraphernalia and face-paint. The pirate’s hair was pale blond, with a few honey-colored strands here and there. He had green eyes that Peter had to admit looked really familiar, but he still couldn’t place the face.

  The man grinned widely, showing off perfectly white, straight teeth. And a half moon dimple on the right side. It was the dimple that kicked Peter’s brain into gear.

  “Luka?”

  “Ding-ding, we have a winner.”

  “Luka,” he whispered again. Peter couldn’t believe it was really him.

  Luka ducked his head and brushed some lint off the waistcoat before meeting his gaze. “I pinky-swear. It’s me, Peter.”

  His son was watching them with wide eyes darting back and forth, obviously feeling something was going on but not understanding what it was.

  Peter didn’t even have to think about what to do next. He secured Loukas with one arm, and with the other he reached out and pulled Luka in for a hug. It must have been twenty years since he’d last seen his best friend.

  “I missed you so much, Luka,” he breathed, trying to press his face into Luka’s hair and breathe deeply. Yeah, his friend still smelled like green tea and mints. He must still be drinking that tea his mom used to make them both drink when Peter went for sleepovers.

  Hell, he could probably do with some about now.

  When they separated Peter looked at the man with new eyes. The little boy he knew had grown up to be a damn impressive-looking man. Gone were the big ears and braces and thin arms.

  “I missed you too, Peter.” They stared at each other, smiling and taking in everything about each other, just as they’d done the first time they met

  “Daaaaaa!”

  Loukas’s screech broke the moment, and they laughed. “I really should get him home,” Peter said reluctantly. Now he’d found Luka, he didn’t want to chance looking away and his best friend disappearing again.

  “Yeah, I guess. Can I get your number, or something? I can borrow one of the guys’ phones to call you when I’m crashing at their place,” Luka sai
d with another smile, but Peter could tell the difference now.

  The spark didn’t quite reach Luka’s eyes.

  And why was Luka crashing somewhere instead of living somewhere?

  “I know I don’t have the right to ask, since we haven’t seen each other in twenty years, but why are you crashing at a friend’s? Is everything okay?”

  The minute he asked, Luka sort of deflated, shuffled uncomfortably, but didn’t answer.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. Let me put Loukas in his seat, and I’ll give you my number.”

  Turning away, Peter occupied himself with putting Loukas in the car seat. It was the safest one on the market, but there were about a gazillion ties and fastenings that always managed to get tangled up in knots.

  “Before I answer, can I ask you a question?” Luka said quietly.

  Peter paused whilst fastening the tangle of clips on the baby seat. He had a pretty good idea what the question was going to be. He was surprised it had taken Luka this long, actually. “Sure.”

  “Loukas, his name?”

  There it was.

  “Yes, I named him after you. You were my best friend before my parents turned out to be total bastards. I don’t speak to them now. I moved out as soon as I was old enough, and haven’t had anything to do with them since,” he defended.

  Peter couldn’t stand the thought that Luka might think he’d had something to do with what happened.

  He jumped when a hand came to rest on his back.

  “I know it wasn’t your fault, Peter. Apart from me not seeing you for twenty years, it worked out for the best. My parents run their own company now.” Luka sounded proud of them.

  Peter was, too. Luka’s mom used to work for his father—and his father had tried to blackmail the woman into sleeping with him, despite the fact that it was his son’s best friend’s mother. And just plain wrong.

  Bastard.

  “But if you moved out young, it does explain why I couldn’t find you.”