Leather and Grace

by Maggie Ryan

“I get it,” Quentin said, straightening and running his hand through his hair. “I’ll make sure she knows I’m sorry.”

  “That’ll do for a start,” Brody said. Quentin couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t bothered to suggest what might come next. The door opened and a different nurse came in. Seeing the plate of crawfish shells, she shook her head.

  “You are one very naughty patient,” she said, moving to wrap a cuff around his arm.

  “Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Brody said with a grin that never failed to make a woman smile back.

  “We love Laurie,” the nurse corrected, pumping the ball to inflate the blood pressure cuff. “And because she loves you… well, we look the other way.” After making note of his vital signs, she took the plate off the table.

  “I promise I was planning on getting rid of that,” Quentin said.

  “I have no doubt that you are his partner in crime,” the nurse said, opening the door. “How about the next time you bring a feast, you bring some to share? I’ve heard about Sammy’s wife’s pies. I think a couple of pies would go a long way towards us keeping our heads turned when our patient has visitors with unapproved bounty.”

  “You can count on it.” Quentin chuckled as she gave him a finger wave. He made sure Brody’s water mug was filled and within reach before walking to the door. “I’ll bring you the laptop and tapes tomorrow.”

  “Good. Hey, you haven’t forgotten you’ve got a class starting tomorrow?” Brody reminded him.

  “No, but that reminds me, I still haven’t gone over the applicant files. Conner seems to think he doesn’t need to cooperate.”

  “He damn well better,” Brody said, his voice turning harsh. “You are in control for a reason, and if you need me to intervene…”

  “No, I’ll handle it. Now, get some rest.” He opened the door and turned back. “Thanks for everything.”

  Brody gave a nod and was reaching for the remote as the door closed. Quentin rode the bike at a far more sedate pace and took the time to actually look around instead of letting things pass by in a blur. After parking the bike, he pulled two boxes from the bed of his truck and carried them to his apartment. He took a shower and then pulled out his phone and called Conner. When he didn’t answer, Quentin left a request that he bring the applications to him early the next morning. Ending the call, he hoped that he wasn’t going to get into some pissing contest with the man. While he understood that Conner most likely felt slighted that he’d not been told he would head the class, his position usurped by a man who’d just breezed back into town, he’d have to get over it. Until Quentin convinced Brody to take over his share of the business, he intended to step up to the plate and keep his part of the bargain.

  Quentin spent the next couple of hours working with the medium that had the power to soothe him. As he worked the strands of leather he’d carefully cut, he made sure each one was supple and layered perfectly so that when attached to the braided leather handle he would make next, each individual piece would become part of the whole. It would be the perfect wedding gift for Brody and Laurie. She was a huge fan of the flogger, and he’d watched her drift into subspace when her Dominant wielded one all over her body.

  Chapter Six

  “Heard you’ve got a slew of ladies coming in today,” Sammy said, setting the tray he’d carried from the kitchen down on a table in the back dining room.

  “What?” Quentin said, looking up from the pad of paper he’d been writing on.

  Sammy chuckled. “That list must be promising if it has you so engrossed that you’ve forgotten our lunch date,” he said, nodding towards the pad.

  Quentin flipped the pad face down and didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “That smells divine.”

  “Of course it does,” Sammy said, placing a steaming bowl before him. “Can’t go wrong with Pop’s gumbo recipe.” He finished unloading the tray, adding a basket of jalapeno cornbread muffins and a basket of fried clams within easy reach. Taking his seat, he added a very generous amount of his own brand of hot-sauce to his bowl.

  Quentin rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to dissipate the spicy fumes coming from the bottle. “Your stomach has got to be made of cast iron.”

  Sammy just dipped a large spoon into his bowl and took his first huge bite before saying, “How do you doing, son?”

  Breaking his muffin in half, Quentin crumbled it into his gumbo to soak up the broth. He wiped his fingers on his napkin and then lifted his spoon. “I’ve got to hand it to Brody. He’s done an outstanding job…”

  “I didn’t ask about Brody. I asked how you were doing,” Sammy said, dunking his own bread.

  “Fine.”

  Sammy shook his head and reached across the table to pull Quentin’s bowl away, causing the spoon that he’d just dipped into the bowl to splash gumbo onto the table’s surface.

  “What the hell!”

  “You don’t deserve the best dish on the menu if you don’t respect that hands that made it,” Sammy said, not releasing his hold despite the fact that steam still rising from its contents testified that the ceramic bowl’s surface had to be burning hot.

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You know I respect you—”

  “Son, when are you gonna learn that you aren’t going through life alone? You can lie to yourself all you want, but don’t lie to ol’ Sammy. Now, you’ve got a choice to make. You can really piss me off by making me throw this in the garbage, or you can remember that I’m not only your cook, I’m your goddamned friend!”

  Quentin had instantly tensed at the older man’s actions, his hands gripping the table’s edge. Sammy’s first words had immediately put him on the defensive. Who was he to judge him? He’d come back, hadn’t he? But, with Sammy’s last statement, Quentin once again felt a shift in his mind. God, he was tired… tired of pretending he didn’t need anyone, tired of pushing his friends away, tired of living in what amounted to limbo. It was time to stop trying to be some sort of macho man and accept what had been right before him. Instead of staying and acknowledging that Beth had been friends with them all, instead of being there for those friends in their grief, he’d let it all be about his loss—like he was more important than the others. No, he hadn’t been a man, much less a friend. He’d taken the easy way out by walking away to lick his wounds like some fucking animal. Reaching out, he pulled the bowl back.

  “I’m trying, and will keep trying every day. Brody deserves that and, yes, so do you and Hannah. I promised to give it my all and I will, but, hell, it’s not the same…”

  “And will never be,” Sammy said. “It will be different but it can be better. Life throws shit at people that disrupts their well-laid plans all the time. The smart ones know that there is more than one road to travel.” He paused to finish his gumbo and then reached for a handful of fried clams, again dousing them in hot-sauce. “I heard you tear out of here on your bike yesterday morning—”

  “Afraid I wasn’t coming back?” Quentin interrupted, not with anger but with resignation, knowing that he’d run away before.

  “Never crossed my mind. You might be a pain in the ass, son, but you’ve never broken your word. Did you find the answers you were seeking in the swamp?”

  Quentin didn’t ask how the man knew where he’d gone. Sammy was not only a surrogate father to him, he was a man born of generations who’d come from the darkest shadows of the swamp. He seemed to know things without being told, and experience had told Quentin not to make light of what was considered as having the ‘sight’. Making a decision, he pushed his empty bowl away and reached, not for the clams, but for the pad. “Not all of them,” he said, meeting the man’s eyes. “But I did discover that while the past will always be a part of my life, I think I’m ready to see what’s in my future.” Sammy just nodded, as if knowing Quentin wasn’t finished. “I can’t give my all to that future until I can say goodbye. I’ll never be at peace with what happened, but I owe it to Beth to let her rest in peace.” Turning th
e pad so that Sammy could read it, he tapped a finger on the top sheet.

  “I went to see Detective Stewart.” Quentin repeated the story, grinning when he admitted he’d eaten his fill of crawfish. Sammy snorted as if to state the crustaceans served had to have been below par, and Quentin didn’t dispel him of the thought.

  “We’re going to look at everything and everyone again.”

  Sammy took a few minutes, flipping through the top few pages of the tablet. His brow furrowed and he returned to the list of names Quentin had written down on the top page.

  “What’s wrong?” Quentin asked, setting down his glass of ice tea.

  “I don’t see Farraday’s name on here, and wasn’t there some other woman who was assisting with hostess duties at the time?”

  Quentin leaned forward. “Shit, you’re right. We had two girls at the desk that night because we knew there would be more people. I don’t remember her name, but Brody probably does. As for Farraday, I just forgot. Mike quit…” Pausing, he lifted his eyes to Sammy’s. “Hell, he quit right after Beth disappeared. Okay, I’ve got to give this list another go. Going back is gonna be useless if we leave someone out, but I believe it’s the only way forward.”

  “Stirring the pot is the only way to bring things up from the bottom,” Sammy said, beginning to pile the empty dishes onto the tray. Reaching across the table again, he laid his hand over Quentin’s. “Be careful, son. Whoever killed Beth thinks they got away with it, but once a person gets a taste for killing, it makes it a whole lot easier to kill again.”

  Quentin nodded and, when the older man stood, he did as well and moved to wrap his arms around him. They stood like that for a few moments and then released each other, secure in the knowledge that they were more than friends—they were family.

  ***

  Quentin went upstairs after stopping in the kitchen to ask Hannah if she would be willing to help keep her favorite person out of trouble. She’d beamed with his request for two of her pies and promised to have them ready in a few hours. She’d also pulled him into a hug and though she didn’t speak, he knew it was her own way of making sure he was all right.

  Grabbing a box he’d emptied the night before, he tossed in the tablet after adding Mike’s name and noting they needed the missing name of the temporary hostess, and then took the box down the hall. When his knock wasn’t answered, he opened the door, figuring that Laurie was at the hospital. He looked around and smiled. Though he’d been at the door, he’d yet to step inside since his return. The apartment he remembered had definitely been far less colorful. Touches of Laurie were everywhere. Brightly colored pillows now decorated the black leather sofa. Not one but two pairs of high heels had been abandoned in the middle of the floor, a pink sweater had been tossed over the back of a chair, and several magazines were scattered across the surface of the glass coffee table. Shaking his head, he went to the set of built-in bookshelves and was reaching to remove a set of books when he paused.

  He’d noticed several framed photos on the shelves and yet this one had him momentarily forgetting his mission. Picking it up, he gazed down at a photo of Brody, Laurie, himself and Beth. All four were smiling, the wind tossing the girls’ hair about as they’d stood in the bow of the boat. He remembered that night. They’d taken their dates out for a dinner cruise onboard the Creole Queen, an old paddlewheeler that ran down the Mississippi River. It had been only a couple of weeks before Beth disappeared. The four had eaten and danced the night away before going up to the top deck to cool off. A photographer who worked for the cruise line had taken their picture, and evidently, Brody or Laurie had purchased a copy from the website. Quentin smiled, relieved that the memories of that evening were good ones, and that looking at the photograph wasn’t tearing him apart. Replacing the frame, he removed the set of books, revealing a hidden panel. Pressing his ring into the impression, the door clicked open. Turning the dial of the safe, he opened it and reached in for the box of flash drives. Shit, there were so many. He realized that there was a date written on the top of the box. These weren’t the ones he needed. Putting it back on top of the stack, he chose another and then another until he finally found the box marked with the proper year. He added the small box to the one he’d brought with him, knowing he didn’t have time to go through the individual flash drives. Closing the safe and twirling the dial, he shut the panel and replaced the books.

  Glancing around, he spied the laptop on the small kitchen table. Approaching it, he saw a mug of coffee sitting on the table as well. Moving it aside, he felt its warmth and wondered why Laurie hadn’t poured it into a travel mug to take with her to the hospital. Shrugging, he turned his attention to the computer, noticing that there was no power cord attached and he didn’t see one lying around. Lifting the lid to check the remaining battery power, he stopped considering cords as the photos on the screen grabbed his attention. He’d just bent forward, his finger on the touchpad to enlarge the array, when a shriek made him look up.

  “What the hell do you think you are you doing?”

  It took a moment for Quentin to even understand that he’d been asked a question. Grace stood a few feet away wearing only a towel. A very small towel. Beautiful, trim legs, still damp from her shower, ended in bare feet with the cutest little toes, the nails painted a bright pink. His eyes traveled up to see her tugging the towel a bit tighter, but all that did was have him imagining what lay beneath the terry cloth. Her auburn hair was wet, darker red-tinged tendrils clinging to her face, and he could see the swell of her breasts peeking out the top of the towel. His cock instantly responded as he remembered his fantasy of seeing this woman on her knees, her hair wet, her green eyes on his as they shared a shower. When he saw her skin begin to flush, he remembered she’d asked him a question.

  “I knocked,” Quentin said.

  “Well, obviously I didn’t hear you. You might have a key, but that isn’t an excuse to invade my privacy.”

  “Look, I didn’t know anyone was here. I just came in to get some stuff for Brody.”

  “That’s not his laptop,” Grace said, pointing to a small desk built into the wall. “Why would his be out when he’s in the hospital?”

  “I didn’t even consider that,” Quentin admitted. “Forgive me, I really didn’t mean to invade your privacy.” He looked down at the screen and said, “Does it help if I say that you are as good a photographer as you are a painter?”

  “Not particularly,” Grace said bluntly. “What would help would be if you get what you need and leave.”

  Quentin shut the lid of the computer and saw that she had turned away. God, the towel clung to the globes of her ass, the contours promising a plump bottom that his hand itched to both fondle and spank. Forcing himself to his senses, he moved to the desk and added the laptop that did have a power cord, though it was not plugged into anything. Placing it in the box, he moved out of the kitchen to find Grace standing by the door.

  “I tried to find you yesterday,” he said. “I wanted to apologize. Hell, now I owe you two.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “I was an ass, and shouldn’t have given you the silent treatment, and was an even bigger ass when I did speak by saying what I did. You didn’t deserve either.” He was pleased to see her posture relaxing slightly, her green eyes no longer flashing in anger, but she hadn’t smiled either. “And I apologize for barging in. I didn’t even consider you’d be here…”

  “Why? Did you think I’d run away after discovering that the next-door neighbor was… how did you describe him? Ah yes, an ass.”

  Quentin squashed his first instinct, which was to drop the box, pull the towel off her little frame and bend her over his thigh for a spanking. Instead, he took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine, I deserved that. However, when a person apologizes, it is expected that it be accepted with grace.”

  “Like the grace you showed me when I apologized last night?”

  “No, as I said, that wasn’t grace… it was me being an idiot.” He took
a step forward. “I won’t barge in again.”

  She reached for the doorknob and then sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. It was rude.” Removing her hand, she held it out. “Truce?”

  Adjusting his hold on the box, he took her hand in his, praying the box’s position would disguise the fact that his cock jerked as his fingers enveloped hers. “Truce.” He was disappointed when she pulled her hand free and opened the door to allow him to leave. He stepped out and turned back. “Just in case you’d like, I’ll stand right here and let you slam it in my face.”

  She seemed to consider it for a moment and then finally gave him a small grin. “No, I’m good.” He was about to state that she definitely was when she did close the door, but quietly. It took the box slipping a bit for him to remember his mission. He had just enough time to drop it off at the hospital before he needed to be back to greet the women coming for the first class. After securing it on the back of his bike and setting off, he arrived at the hospital to find Brody sound asleep, a line on his forehead reminding Quentin that despite Brody’s cheerful attitude, his friend was indeed dealing with an injury that was quite painful. Setting the box onto the cushion of the built-in bench seat beneath the window, he left just as quietly. He’d be back later, and they could begin.

  Chapter Seven

  “I expected these this morning,” Quentin said as he stepped off the elevator to find Conner waiting, a pile of manila folders in his hand.

  “Sorry, I was busy,” Conner said with a shrug. “I’ve already gone through them and they look fine.”

  Quentin held his temper in check, taking the folders. It was too late to go through them now. The women whose applications were inside were already gathering in the back dining room. He’d have to get his first impression from the actual students instead of whatever they’d written as their reasons for seeking a place in the class.

  “So, I think we ought to just split them up,” Conner said as the two began to walk down the hall. “Between us and Trent and Sloan, we can each take three.”