by Clare London
“Is Lisa still around?” Greg said grumpily. “I don’t know what she finds so interesting here. Glasgow’s a city full of action and plenty of opportunity for a good hairdresser, I’d think. Whereas here….”
“You have Maggie Shaw hacking away at people’s hair with sheep shears,” Perry said drily with a quick glance at Greg’s own hair. “Yes, no comparison there.”
“Maggie’s been good enough for the villagers in the past.”
“Greg, the world moves on, even here. You can’t possibly think you can stop it.” When Greg didn’t immediately reply, Perry laughed. “You do, don’t you?”
“Believe me, if anyone wants to move away from the past, it’s me.”
“But you’re not moving on, stuck out here. You’re trying to freeze time. To hide.”
It made Greg pause.
“And Lisa,” Perry continued, bustling about with an armful of his clean washing and, Greg noticed, more than a few of his items too. “She’s not here for the career prospects. Haven’t you realized?”
“What?”
“She’s here for Bridie.”
“Aye. They’ve been friends since school days.”
“Greg.” Perry sighed. The look in his eyes was a strange mixture of fondness and pity. “They’re adult women now. Lisa and Bridie want to be more to each other than schoolgirl friends.”
Greg stared at him. “What? Do you mean they’re…?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Greg took a careful breath. “Do you think Dougie knows?”
“He’s been sharing a house with the pair of them for ages—I assume Lisa comes to stay regularly? Well, you’ll probably find he’s noticed something. He’s not much of a brother if he hasn’t.”
Greg darted a look at Perry. Was that some kind of barbed comment about Greg as a brother? Maybe about Greg’s brothers, in relation to him—
“And no, that comment had no hidden agenda,” Perry said quietly.
How does he do that? Know what I’m thinking?
“I reckon,” Greg said quickly, and with no care as to whether it’d make any sense in the current conversation at all, “I’ll teach you to swim.”
Perry stared at him, eyes wide. Then he smiled. “Okay. In the loch?”
“Aye. We’ll borrow you a wet suit. Alasdair has a couple of adult ones he keeps for when his grandson comes to visit.”
“You’ll let me wear something that’s touched the skin of the gorgeous gay grandson?” Perry murmured mischievously.
Greg growled, grabbed for him, and missed. Perry tripped away like that sea creature he could resemble when he was at his most slippery. When Greg finally caught him, almost breathless with laughter and mischief, the first swimming lesson had to be postponed—at least until after Perry had rolled Greg onto the sofa and sucked him off.
It took a while before Greg could get his limbs to work to order again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
PERRY saw what he reckoned was the best of Greg Ventura over the days following their get-together at the ceilidh. And no, that didn’t just mean the man’s fabulous body—and fun appetite—in bed. Greg was relaxed and as confident as Perry had ever seen him.
Why did Greg let those damn brothers of his get to him so much? He should have moved on. Like I know how easy—or not—that is! Perry ignored the inner voice that reminded him things were rarely that simple. Instead, he started devising little ways to support and strengthen Greg’s self-esteem. He complimented Greg on how he looked; encouraged him when he smiled; approved when he shrugged into the tee shirts Perry thought suited him best. If Greg grew morose at his clumsiness or made some disparaging remark about his looks, Perry was there to kiss and distract him, and tell him just how bloody stupid—and untrue—that was. The one situation where Greg never seemed to worry about himself was in bed during sex.
Perry didn’t mind however many distractions they had like that!
Greg actually began to overcome his natural clumsiness. Maybe that started because Perry kept the house in much better order, but as the days went by, Greg strode around more confidently, his head held high so he could see obstacles in his way. He was far more likely to notice his surroundings.
Perry loved the swimming lessons best. He still hesitated to jump voluntarily into the depths, but once Greg had gone in and held out his arms to catch him, he grew more willing. The sea water lochs were the best for practice, where the water itself supported him, but he found himself looking forward to swimming in the fresh water lochs, which had a peace and beauty of their own. He had the basics already, so it was just a matter of Greg teaching him better strokes and building up his confidence. While he was in the water, Greg swam beside him, a hand under his torso at all times to hold him up if needed and words of encouragement in his ear to help develop his style. At those times, Greg was the sea creature and Perry his splash-about sidekick. And best of all was at the end of the sessions, when Greg would grasp him around the waist and lift him up onto the jetty. Perry could just about manage to pull himself up out of the loch, but it seemed both of them enjoyed this little ritual.
“Can’t believe you never tried one of those posh city gyms,” Greg said one afternoon as they sat on the jetty after Perry’s lesson and ate thick-sliced cheese and homemade pickle sandwiches. The air around the loch was warm and still, apart from a clutch of midges buzzing around. It was so beautiful, Perry could just sit there absorbing the wild, stark beauty for hours. “They have pools, don’t they?”
“Some of them,” Perry said. If he kept his head down, maybe Greg would move the subject on.
“Well, you can join up when you go back. Keep up this good work.”
A strange silence fell, as if both of them realized at the same time what all that meant.
“I’ll… um. Fetch the towels from the car,” Greg said gruffly.
Perry didn’t answer. The specter of London had landed yet again, hadn’t it? And it was taking on a whole new horror.
PERRY turned over in bed—in Greg’s bed—and slammed the Off button on his phone. Bloody texts! He’d been ignoring Candace’s calls for two days—now they’d sicced Antony on him as well. Perry had been cowardly keeping his phone turned off as often as possible, but as soon as he turned it back on, it beeped furiously with messages. It was 6:00 a.m. and he had ten missed calls.
It was like the worst kind of wake-up call.
“London again?” Greg yawned behind him. The duvet jerked away from Perry as Greg stretched his arms.
“I have to go back,” Perry said. “As soon as possible.”
Greg snorted. He rolled over and slid an arm around Perry’s shoulders. “They’ve crapped on you, why do you care about them? You’re a good-looking man, you could do anything, work anywhere—”
Things snapped. Perry had no idea why he lost control so quickly—well, he bloody well did, but he couldn’t admit to that right now—but he was tired, so tired, of his daily battles. Just for one short period of time here on Uist he’d escaped them, but now everything would settle back on his shoulders again.
He twisted his head sharply to glare at Greg. “What the hell do you know about it? You think I don’t struggle to look good every single bloody day? You think I get out of bed fully groomed?”
“I know you don’t,” Greg said, obviously without thinking first. He blushed bright red.
“Yes, well. You think this is easy to manage”—Perry tugged painfully at his hair and the uneven curls that fell any which way now he’d stopped using product—“and I keep this shape by eating all the meat we cook?” Though, actually, he reckoned he’d toned up rather than put on weight since he’d been here, but he wasn’t going to admit to that either.
Greg was staring at him like he’d suddenly grown two heads.
“And my career. What about my career? You think I can just flit from job to job and not get a reputation as unreliable? This is my chance to make something of myself, Greg! I’ve never had a client this i
mportant, a project this big.”
“Okay….”
“That’s another thing you’ve assumed,” Perry rushed on, ignoring the look of shock dawning on Greg’s face. He swung his legs out of bed and stood up. And stayed there, totally naked and shaking, because he just didn’t know what else to do. “That all I’ve ever wanted is to make celebrities look prettier, and to get my name on a TV team list. I never wanted this fucking job in the first place!” He knew his voice was too shrill, too loud. “I was all set to be a designer in my own right, but do you know how fucking difficult it is to get anywhere in London without knowing the right people?”
“No,” Greg said quietly. He didn’t move at all. It looked like he was trying really hard not to.
“Well, it’s hugely fucking difficult, and I just don’t know anyone influential enough. So I thought a job in media would be a route toward the job I really want. A chance to network with the right people.”
“I’m sure….” Greg swallowed heavily. He looked nervous. “Well, I mean, yes, you’ll surely….”
“No, I bloody well won’t!” Perry snapped. “I’m no further forward than I was a year ago. I’m too good at getting the job done and doing what I’m told. Why the hell would they promote me out of a job they sorely need doing, and well?”
He realized what he’d said the minute it spilled out of his mouth. He’d effectively shut the door on his own ambitions. But what else was he meant to do? He ached sometimes to work on the designs on the shoots. He anguished at the mistakes they were making in style and setting; he dreamed painfully, night after night, of the collections he could be planning for the new season.
But still they yelled for him to get the coffee—and to charm reluctant TV celebrities like Greg bloody Ventura.
“I never realized,” Greg said. Slowly, he swung his legs out from under the duvet. “But why are you letting it get to you? Tell them to get lost. You can stay here as long as you bloody well like.”
Perry felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. Not that he could imagine anything he could do on North Uist that didn’t involve water or sheep—but he was blown away by the fact that Greg had just said that, without any second thought. “That can’t happen.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Greg, I do. I have to go back. I have to do a lot of things I probably don’t want to.” Of course, Greg could do what he liked, couldn’t he? He had no ties, no commitments. He’d truly escaped it all. So he’d given up his family as a result, but that hadn’t been a hardship at the time. In fact, it sounded like it had been a good coping strategy. But that wasn’t Perry’s situation, was it?
“No, you don’t,” Greg said mulishly. “You shouldn’t have to lead a miserable life.”
“You don’t know anything about it!”
“You won’t tell me!”
They’d both raised their voices. Perry sighed and tried to rein in his anger. “Okay, so you might as well know. I have to go back to my tiny little flat and my disgracefully ill-paid, overladen job, and the panic I feel every time I get a call at home out of the usual—”
“What do you mean—?”
“I have to go back,” he almost yelled, tears pricking his eyes at last, “because I can’t afford not to!”
Chapter Twenty-Six
GREG stared at him, uncomprehending. “Can’t afford?”
“Fuck,” Perry said. He couldn’t think of any other word that better expressed his utter misery.
Somewhat to his surprise, Greg didn’t continue pressing him. Instead, he also stood. Great. Now there were two of them, standing stark bollock naked in the middle of the bedroom.
“Perry. Tell me what’s up.”
“Oh, for God’s sake—”
“Tell me,” Greg repeated. “You made me tell you things once. Now it’s my turn.” He gestured to the bed. Then when Perry stood unmoving, he took his shoulders and guided him back to sit on it. Greg sat beside him, close but not intimidatingly so.
Again, when Perry sat there like a statue, Greg tugged him so that Perry’s head lay on his shoulder. Oh God, yes. Greg was like a rock: a warm, living, comfortable rock, but steady like the real thing would be. Perry relaxed into the position. He wanted to lie against him forever.
“So?” Greg said softly. “What was it on your phone?”
“It was a message from Antony, my friend at the agency.”
“Another follow-up call about the TV program?”
“Worse. I’ve had a warning delivered to my flat about… about bailiff proceedings.”
“What are you talking about?”
Perry swallowed tightly. “I’m broke, Greg. Not just broke, but horribly in debt.” How terrible that sounded, said aloud. How humiliating. “It’s not my fault!”
“I wouldn’t imagine it was.”
Perry felt no change in Greg’s breathing pattern, so maybe that was sincere. But Perry had too much to blame on his own behalf not to expect it from others. “There was a guy… we went out together for nearly a year. Henry had been in the fashion industry for years but wanted to start up his own agency. Yes, I know what a flaky industry it is. And how bloody difficult it is to succeed, especially on your own.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I wanted it to succeed, Greg!” Perry rushed on, He didn’t dare stop now. “And for really selfish reasons, I suppose, because I could have launched my own designs with him. He promised me I’d have his full support. Of course, that was in exchange for my financial investment.”
Greg was silent for a moment, but his hand tightened on Perry’s arm.
“I was happy to do it, you know? I didn’t have much in the way of savings, but I was happy to invest it in his future. Plus I supported him when he left his existing job. What’s more, I even persuaded Mother to invest. And then….” His stomach clenched. It wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt, but his own stupidity. “Well, of course, he struggled to make a go of it. He couldn’t make enough contacts, he couldn’t attract enough clients. Maybe it was his approach—he was an arrogant bastard, I can see that more clearly now—but like I say, it’s not always a friendly business. The money leached away, and he started to run up debt. In the end, he lost his flat to the bank and had to move back in with his sister. We couldn’t keep up the relationship by that stage, and to be honest, I was relieved when we split up.”
“But what about your investment?”
“Henry said he’d pay it back. I had my doubts about that, but I thought it was important to help his self-esteem, so I agreed to keep in touch. And God knows, I needed the money myself. There was a time when I thought I’d lose my flat as well, but luckily my friends at the agency helped me out. They never really liked Henry.” He swallowed hard. “Proves their instincts were better than mine. He ran up extra debt up in my name too. I had no idea until months after he’d left me, when I started getting legal letters threatening me. And Mother too.”
“My God, Perry.”
“It was a tough time. I’ve paid Mother back, though she doesn’t know it came from me, not Henry. And I’m still challenging most of the claims. But some of the others… dammit.” He sank his head into his hands. “I’ve had to pay up just to get the agencies off my back.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Greg said in a low voice.
“Fuck it, don’t give me that—!”
“No! I mean you shouldn’t have had to do that. You were the victim, Perry, not the one at fault.”
For a moment, Perry gulped in a breath, trying to hold back tears. Greg’s grip on him had never faltered. “Anyway, that’s why my job is so bloody important to me. Without it, I couldn’t have afforded to stay in London. Or pay Mother back her savings. And even now, I can’t afford to waste anything.”
“Like on clothes? And… oh, dammit, me and my big mouth. On gym memberships?”
Perry flushed. He reckoned even his nose was red with shame. “It’s true. I can’t afford anything except bas
ic living. I don’t even know if Eddy is going to reimburse all my expenses for staying here. I have the clothes I arrived with and hardly anything else left behind.”
Greg tensed beside him. “None of that stuff matters to me anyway.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Perry could feel his anguish as a thick lump in his throat. “That’s one of the reasons I love you, Greg Ventura! But it’s everything to me, in that world—”
His brain caught up with his mouth just those few second too late. What have I said? What have I done? Horrified, he twisted away from Greg and leaped back up. His skin was cold without Greg’s grip. His heart plummeted at the look of shock on Greg’s face.
“Perry—?”
“Don’t! I’m sorry!”
They spoke at the same time. The silence fell like the heaviest snowfall. There could be no going back from that kind of declaration. And Perry couldn’t deny it, could he? Because it was sadly, shockingly true.
Greg cleared his throat as if it hurt him. “I’m not… I’m no good for anyone else, Perry. I’ve tried to be better, to be different. But I’m never going to be right for you.”
Perry knew his humiliation was complete. He could feel the tears finally seeping out. “Don’t let anyone tell you that! You’re just perfect as you are.” He turned quickly so Greg wouldn’t see any more of his shame. “But I apologize for embarrassing us both. Excuse me now. I’ll pack my bag and book my travel back to London. There’s a suitable flight tomorrow afternoon.”
He left the room with as much dignity as he could. Bloody difficult, when he was totally nude and about to bawl his eyes out.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A COUPLE of hours later, Perry stood in the hallway of the cottage, fully dressed but still rubbing suspiciously wet traces from his eyes. He hadn’t dared face Greg after that scene in the bedroom, so he’d spent an unnecessarily long time packing. Not that his clothes were likely to survive many more journeys. In fact, they’d been virtually ruined from his first day here, but… well, they were all he had. He looked at the smart jacket and the ripped but immaculately pressed jeans that still had mud stains on the hems, and they all looked totally alien to him. They’d been some of his favorite pieces when he first arrived.