Mischief Maker

by Andi Lee

  “It’s not the same.”

  “You should have thought about that before you hurt my brother,” Ellen chimed in, and Paul’s eyes widened.

  “Ellen, it’s… good to see you.”

  She stood on unsteady feet and stepped in front of him. “It’s really not,” she said. Jamie had no clue what she was up to, and he jumped when she pulled her hand back and slapped Paul across the face. Paul teetered on his feet and grabbed his cheek as his mouth fell open in shock. “That’s for what you did to my brother.”

  It was all Jamie could do not to cheer out loud.

  Paul straightened and pressed his lips together. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at them all in turn. “I’ll go. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I hurt you, but you weren’t perfect either.” He took a step toward the door, then hesitated and looked backwards. “It looks different in here.” He motioned around the room.

  Jamie frowned in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.” He couldn’t think of anything that had changed since Paul lived there.

  “You let Liam hang his jumper over the banister. There’s one of his shoes over there. You always bitched if I did that. You never let me put my mark on this place.”

  Jamie blinked as he realised Liam had indeed left a jumper abandoned on the banister when the coat hook was only on the opposite wall. Had he really moaned at Paul for doing the same thing? He couldn’t recall.

  “It’s just stuff,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t. Liam’s jumper gave him a warm feeling inside. He itched to slip it on so he could be surrounded by Liam’s scent, but that would give more weight to Paul’s words.

  Paul let out an angry laugh. “Of course it is. Fuck you all. I don’t need any of you. No need to see me out; I know where the door is.” He stormed out of the living room and down the hallway. They all heard the front door slam as he left.

  “Well, he was a box of delights,” Ellen said as she sat back down. “Is that vodka? I think this deserves a shot or two for everyone, don’t you think?”

  Everyone agreed, and Jamie poured out the drinks. He tried to ignore Paul’s interruption but was unable to stop thinking about what he’d said. Liam didn’t even live there officially, but wherever he looked, Jamie was reminded of him.

  “I like it,” Jamie said, looking around with a new eye and noticing everything that had turned it into a home and not just a house.

  “What are you talking about?” Markus asked.

  “Stuff. Liam’s stuff here, mingling with mine. I like it.” He knocked back a shot and poured another. “Anyone hungry? I’ve got Doritos and possibly Pringles.” If Liam hadn’t eaten them before leaving. A curry or chips would be better, but he couldn’t be bothered to make a run into town. Crisps would have to do.

  “I could eat,” Dane said. “Need a hand?”

  “To put Doritos in a bowl and hunt for Pringles?” He laughed. “No, I’m good.”

  “Bring in another bottle of wine, would you?” Ellen said.

  He saluted her, walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge to find the bottle of Lambrini in there for when Liam and Selena were around. For some reason they had never grown out of drinking it like most sane people did.

  He balanced bowls, dip, and a bottle of wine in his hands and walked through the doorway back to the living room. He felt a draught, glanced toward the front door, and cursed. Paul had left it open. Another mark against him. He put the snacks down on the cluttered coffee table and quickly went back to shut it.

  JAMIE WOKE the next morning to the smell of bacon and the taste of death in his mouth. His head thumped with every breath, and his stomach churned. Maybe he would die, and then the pain would stop. That sounded like a good plan.

  When death didn’t take him, he gingerly got out of bed and grabbed Liam’s dressing gown—the white one he’d had L of a Ride embroidered on the breast pocket of as a joke—and followed the salty scent of bacon, needing to soak up the alcohol.

  Ellen looked as bad as he did. Her eyeliner was smudged around her eyes, she still had bed hair, and the look on her face said that only bacon could cure how awful she felt. He understood.

  “Bacon-and-egg buttie?” she asked. He grunted a response and put the kettle on for tea. He wished he’d had enough about him to brush his teeth before coming downstairs, but he didn’t have the energy to go all the way back up there to do it.

  “I’ll bring Liam around to meet you when he gets back. Maybe next week?” How good was he? Having a proper conversation. He could do this. He wasn’t hungover at all. Not one bit.

  She shook her head and then retched at the sudden movement. “Jesus Christ, I feel like shit. I’m away for work next week. The week after for definite, though.”

  Ellen cooking him breakfast reminded him of being a teenager again and how they used to go out on the lash, get back in so late that not even their mother could nag them enough to get out of bed, and then they’d have a fry-up for lunch. Those were good times, back when he could take his alcohol.

  “Smashing,” he said as she put a plate in front of him and sat opposite to eat her own. “What are you up to for the rest of the day?”

  “I need to get sorted for next week, but I really want to go home and die.” She pulled a face and took a big bite of her sandwich. “I haven’t drunk that much in ages.”

  “You’re more than welcome to help me clean out the rats.” He wanted them to all look perfect for when Liam got back, but he wasn’t looking forward to that chore. It was a mammoth task with the number of rats he had.

  Ellen snorted. “No, thanks. I cleaned them out enough when we were kids and I lost those stupid bets to you. Anyway, I have to go as soon as I’ve finished this.” She ate her sandwich in a few bites as Jamie took delicate nibbles, trying to calm his queasy stomach. “I’ll see you soon? Text me.”

  Jamie nodded and stood up long enough to kiss her on the cheek. “Definitely. Thanks for the bacon.”

  “No problem. It was your bacon. I just grilled it. Don’t bother getting up, I can see myself out.”

  “Bye, bye. Love you,” he called as he settled back into the chair and ate the rest of his breakfast.

  One he’d eaten, he felt almost human. Almost. Human enough to send Liam a photo of the state of the living room, his poor abandoned uke lying amidst it all. It was carnage. Liam sent a gif back of a troll riding a train. Jamie hoped that meant he was on his way back already.

  It made him smile as he tried to tidy, but he didn’t get very far because he kept stopping for a breather and getting sidetracked by whatever crap was on the TV.

  Bottles were finally in the recycling bin, and he’d swept as many of the bits up as possible. Deeming that good enough, he went back upstairs. He desperately wanted a long, hot shower, but there was no point in showering before he cleaned the rats out.

  He opened the rat room, said hello to all the little faces that peered up at him. Agatha was out of her nest, the babies all surrounding her now they had their eyes open and were big enough to run around. They were growing strong, their coats coming in glossy and healthy. It was difficult to decide which ones he would keep, but he had a while to decide which were the best.

  Liam’s rats were in the spare cage on top of the dresser, full of substrate and food. He went over to them. Mabel and Maud were lounging in the Ghostbuster hammock at the top, both grinding their teeth when they heard his voice.

  “Missing your dad, huh? Me too,” he said as he opened their cage.

  Upon hearing his voice, Gert poked her head out of the plastic house on the bottom of the cage and ambled out. She sniffed at the bars and looked forlornly at him. Unable to resist her cute face, he picked her up for a quick cuddle, scratched her back, and tickled between her ears.

  “Like that, do you? Yeah, your dad does too.” Jamie smirked. But as he went to put Gert back, he saw a blue blur from the corner of his eye, and he jumped back, heart in his mouth.

  Gert wriggled in his hands, and it
was only years of experience that kept him from dropping her. He lurched back toward the cage, eyes blinking in case he was seeing things. The alcohol had obviously addled his brain.

  Then he went ice cold all over, hairs on his arms standing on end. He shivered, teeth chattering, and his stomach roiled.

  “What the fuck?” he said. There were a couple of things Jamie always prided himself on—meticulous breeding and being a reliable boarder. This showed neither of those traits.

  The shock of what he saw had him rooted to the spot, and it was only when one of the rats climbed out of the hammock—a rat that most definitely should not be in that cage—that he sprang to action. He quickly put Gert in the top of the cage with her sisters and then scooped Negan out. All the while, his heart thumped painfully in his chest.

  Negan was a large Russian Blue buck with a bossy personality to match his namesake, though he wasn’t half so cruel—luckily. He lay in Jamie’s two hands, his body relaxed, eyes boggling. “Yeah, no wonder you’re boggling, you devil.”

  Negan went back with his cage mates, no worse for wear. Jamie could not get his head around it. The bacon churned in his stomach, and acid burned the back of his throat. He bit his lips, willing his body not to betray him.

  “Shit. Shit, fuck.” How long had Negan been in their cage, and more importantly, how did he get there? There was no way he would have mistaken the cages—he couldn’t have been that drunk, could he? He wracked his brain, trying to remember what happened the night before, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember going into the rat room after everyone left.

  He took a deep breath. He needed to concentrate on the here and now. Whatever he’d done last night wasn’t as important as checking the girls for any injuries. They looked no worse for wear, sitting in their hammocks, but rats were prey animals and generally hid any hurt they might have. Forming a plan, he nodded—check the rats now, panic later. His hands shook as he checked each one of them and only found one small scratch on Maud.

  He checked the rest of the cages, made sure each rat was in the right place, and breathed a sigh of relief when they were. Dread settled over him like a weighted blanket, making it hard to breath. What was he meant to do now?

  Fleetingly he thought about pretending it hadn’t happened, but just the thought crippled him with guilt. He couldn’t do that to Liam. He closed his eyes and whimpered. What would everyone in the rat community say? How was Jan going to look at him after this? If this mistake resulted in an “oops” litter—or three—he’d never live it down.

  It was very possible that all three rats could now end up pregnant, and that would make him look like an amateur and could seriously undermine his business. He tasted the bacon at the back of his throat and swallowed, trying to calm his stomach again.

  How was he going to tell Liam? Hey, honey, I’m glad you’re back. We’re going to be rat fathers because I accidently put my prize Russian Blue buck in with your pride and joy rescues?

  The only positive he could think of was at least it was Liam’s rats and not a boarder’s. He felt guilty for thinking it, but it was true. If he could persuade Liam to take them to see Dane at the practice, then he could give them something to prevent pregnancy. The last thing either of them needed was thirty-plus rat kittens. Liam would see reason. Now if only Jamie could remember how it happened.

  He went in search of his phone and rang Dane, cursing when he didn’t answer right away. “Come on, Dane, answer, damn you….” What the hell was he doing? He never took so long answering.

  “What are you ringing me so early for?” Thank God. It didn’t matter that Dane was grumpy; that was typical Dane. Jamie tried to laugh, but it turned into a sob. “What is it, what’s wrong?” The grumpiness disappeared, and Dane sounded fully alert.

  “I fucked up, Dane.” His hangover chose that moment to come back with a vengeance, and he dropped his mobile and leaned forward as vomit sprayed from between his lips and soaked into the carpet in front of him.

  Dane was there fifteen minutes later, wearing jogging bottoms and a creased T-shirt. Jamie had never seen him so rumpled, even when they lived together at uni. Dane picked him up off the floor in much the same manner he did a foal and then manhandled him into the shower.

  “Shower. I’ll stand just outside in case you need help. Then you can tell me what’s happened.”

  Jamie clutched the doorframe, sweat beading on his forehead. He must look a mess. He certainly felt it, and he knew it wasn’t all because of the hangover. “I’ll be fine. Can you check on Liam’s rats? I found Negan in their cage this morning.”

  Dane literally flinched, and his mouth dropped open. “What the hell?”

  “I don’t know. I have no clue. Can you check them for me?” Dane nodded and left him in the bathroom. Jamie took a deep breath, leaned over the sink, turned on the cold tap, and drank straight from it. It made his mouth feel marginally less like death.

  When he’d finally showered and dressed, he went to find Dane. His hair was still wet, and droplets trailed down his neck and wet his T-shirt. He shivered at the cold but didn’t bother trying to towel it dry. Dane was on his hands and knees, cleaning up Jamie’s vomit.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Dane glanced up but didn’t stop scrubbing. “Don’t worry. Call us even for that time I puked in your car.” He wrung out the sponge, scrubbed one last time, and peeled the rubber gloves off. “I’ll just get rid of this and be right back.”

  Jamie heard the toilet flush and the tap turn on before Dane came back.

  “Physically the girls are fine, but you might want to bring them to the surgery for Galastop.”

  A shot of relief surged through him. That was right. If they did that, then everything would be fine. “I’ll have to explain to Liam.” Dane nodded. “How the hell do I make this be all right?” Whatever he said to Liam, it would be bad. If only he could turn back the clock.

  “Come on. Let’s go down to the living room and you can tell me all about it.”

  The living room was still mostly a mess from their impromptu party the night before. Jamie wished it hadn’t happened, that they hadn’t even had band practice. He brushed some crumbs off the sofa and practically collapsed into it. “How come you don’t have a hangover?”

  Dane raised an eyebrow. “You know I don’t get hangovers, darling. Plus I didn’t drink as much as you.”

  “I can’t even remember half of last night. What did I do?”

  “Nothing that I saw. Are you going to tell me what happened? This isn’t like you at all. You’re so sensible.”

  Sensible. Boring. The reason Paul left him. The reason he tried to keep the peace for the sake of their friends. Well, no one could call him boring now. “I don’t remember getting Negan out and putting him in with the girls. I’d remember that, wouldn’t I?” There was a bad taste in his mouth, and it had nothing to do with throwing up earlier. Self-loathing made his chest ache until he could barely breathe.

  “I’m sure Liam will understand when you explain.”

  “How can I explain when I don’t remember? I’m going to look such a fool. They’ll never ask me to judge again.”

  Dane gave him a hug. “Liam will be back soon. Speak to him first, then worry about everyone else. You’re only human, darling. We all make mistakes.”

  If only he could get away saying nothing. Putting his head in the sand sounded like a pretty good idea right then.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  THE TRAIN ride home was long, boring, and cramped. Liam’s arse became numb and it was impossible to sleep. He’d enjoyed the weekend away, but he was ready to get home to Jamie. Next year, he decided, he would ask Jamie to go with him. He couldn’t stop the smile when he thought about next year. Who would have thought he would settle down? Not him. He shuddered when he thought about what he used to get up to before he met Jamie. He’d been so sure he was having fun and enjoying life, but he was just making a mockery of it.

  The trai
n stopped at every station. It took over two hours for him to get back, and the relief washed over him. When he finally reached his stop, he grabbed his bag and made his way to the taxi rank. It wasn’t that far to Jamie’s, but he couldn’t face the half-hour walk.

  His car was parked on the curb outside Jamie’s house, the L plates tucked in the boot, waiting for his student tomorrow morning. He’d moved a lot of students around to have the full weekend off, so next week was going to be busy catching up.

  Jamie’s house was quiet when he let himself in. The living room looked like an attempt had been made to tidy it, but it was a half-hearted try at best. Jamie must be feeling worse for wear—possibly still nursing a hangover in bed.

  “Jamie?” Liam called softly. He poked his head into the kitchen and, seeing it empty, made his way back upstairs. The door to the rat room was open, and knowing Jamie wouldn’t leave it unattended with Stark in the house, he figured Jamie would be with the rats.

  He wasn’t wrong, although he was surprised to see him still in Liam’s dressing gown, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his head in his hands. His head shot up when Liam padded into the room, and Liam’s smile started to slip. Something was wrong.

  “Are you okay?”

  Jamie looked green around the gills and bit his lip nervously. He got to his feet, knees cracking, and his gaze flitted to Liam’s rats behind him. “I can explain. The girls are fine.”

  He twisted around in alarm, hands against the bars as he looked from one rat to the other. “What do you mean?”

  Jamie stood up and cupped his elbow. “I said they’re okay. There was just a—mishap.”

  Liam frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that, and Jamie’s body language didn’t match his words. It tied his stomach in knots. “Whenever someone starts a conversation like that, it doesn’t usually mean ‘fine.’ What’s wrong?”