They’d screwed quite a few times. Darrell frowned, trying to put a number on it. Woah. A lot. And why was he thinking of calling or texting him just for a chat? That wasn’t what Darrell did. Hook-ups were just that—they weren’t someone he met for lunch if he had a day off on the weekend, or went to the movies with, much less wished they were there at a work event like this. That wasn’t him, just as this vague, well, feeling, wasn’t him.
Mateo was just some guy he’d met at the gym, who he’d sounded out cagily over the weights and more openly in the locker room, and who’d jerked him off under the table in Cesar’s an hour later. Oh, Darrell wasn’t selfish. He’d made sure Mateo had gotten off, too, in the restroom, before they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been to the guy’s apartment twice since then, and Mateo to his, neither of them spending the night, although Mateo had been amenable. Darrell hadn’t.
Did he even like him? The guy was good-looking, sure, and their tastes and preferences were compatible. Darrell liked to top and Mateo to get fucked. Hard. But Darrell certainly didn’t care about him, for crap’s sake. Caring was a weakness. His upbringing had told him that. His father had told him that.
Darrell straightened up, pushing his cell back into his pocket. “Sir,” he greeted the captain, coming the other way down the corridor, flanked by detectives and civilians.
“Williams,” some suit or other reminded Miller.
“Well done again.” There was no handshake this time as the captain swept past.
“What’s next for you after that?” asked a man with the group, making Darrell realize he was a reporter.
“The shooting range,” Darrell replied. “I need to practice.”
Those who’d heard chuckled, as though Darrell were making a joke, after they’d seen his performance on screen. But Darrell wasn’t making any kind of quip.
Five minutes later he was there, at the range, down in the basement, a place he could ignore any and everybody else. Where he was away from the smells of coffee, cleaning chemicals and the astringent traces of pepper spray that always seemed to linger in the station and could breathe in the scents of hot metal and thick oil.
Down here, the focus was on the Smith & Wesson 40 in his hand and the target up ahead, and the three Ss that were important in life—stance, speed and spread. Here there was no room for softness or needs or wishes, and no space at all for relationships. Ear protectors muting his hearing, Darrell let a sense of calm wash over him as he steadied his breathing in the cool, climate-controlled air and squeezed the trigger to take a shot.
Chapter Three
Arriving at work the next morning, Aldric ran a hand down the front of his white button-up. He had tried to get the wrinkles out of it the night before by hanging it in the bathroom when he’d taken a hot shower, but it hadn’t worked as well as he’d hoped.
His jeans were faded, although not holey, like most of his other pairs. Elliot had told him jeans were fine, but Aldric planned on buying something nicer—khakis at the very least—as soon as he could. Elliot was a classy man, and Aldric didn’t want to bring any tinge of the poverty he felt emanating from him to Elliot’s shop.
Poverty was the dirty secret no one ever wanted to talk about or acknowledge. It angered Aldric, but there was little he could do to change the world.
As he entered the shop, breathing deep of the wood and lacquer scents, Aldric noticed the Help Wanted sign was still up. He made a mental note to ask Elliot about taking it down after Elliot finished speaking with the customer he was with. He waved at Elliot, who smiled back at him, then walked behind the counter and retrieved the inventory book. Elliot had told him to study it every chance he got, and since Aldric didn’t know what else he should be doing, now seemed a good time to start learning about the antiques. He polished his glasses on a tissue and got to work.
He had made it to the third page when the bells on the door chimed and an older, brown-haired man entered the shop. Elliot was still with the customer. Aldric set the inventory book down and tried to smile. “Welcome to Intrinsic Value, sir. How can I help you today?”
The man glanced from him to Elliot and back to Aldric. He tugged at the left cuff of his dark gray suit jacket. “Ah, yes. My name is Jonas Abrams. I wanted to inquire as to the nature of the position available. I have several years’ experience in antiquities and a university degree that would be an asset as well.”
Aldric’s heart fluttered and, for a moment, he feared he’d pass out. This thick-set man, with his tortoise-shell glasses and short, close-cut mustache and beard, looked like the kind of person Elliot should have working at Intrinsic Value. He belonged there, unlike Aldric.
“Uh—” Aldric knew his face was red, a hot blush stealing over him. This would be the end of the dream job. At least he hadn’t planned beyond buying new pants and paying the bills, so he wouldn’t be as devastated to lose this job as he’d have been if he’d worked there longer.
“Excuse me a moment, Mr. Tibbers. I’ll be right back,” Elliot said before approaching not Jonas Abrams, but Aldric.
Elliot cupped Aldric’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Glad you made it in, Aldric. I knew I chose well.”
Aldric wanted to ask if that meant he still had his job. Instead, he tried to have some faith that things might not be so serious for him. Elliot wasn’t acting like he was about to fire him. “Thank you.”
Elliot patted his shoulder, then faced Jonas Abrams. “I’m Elliot Douglas, the owner of Intrinsic Value. Elliot, please. And I am sorry, Mr. Abrams, but I’ve hired this talented young man, Aldric. I meant to take the sign down yesterday. My apologies for this inconvenience.”
Mr. Abrams didn’t seem to be dejected. He raised a briefcase Aldric hadn’t noticed him holding. “Undoubtedly a wise decision. Aldric—may I call you by your given name?”
Aldric frowned and nodded. No one had bothered to ask his permission to say his name before. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh.” Mr. Abrams lowered the briefcase. “No need for that. I’m Jonas. And I would like to leave my resume with you, Elliot, if I may? I understand you’ve filled the position, but perhaps you might be amenable to a curator as an independent contractor? I have quite a few connections that could benefit you. If not, that is, of course, fine as well.” Jonas set the briefcase on the counter and opened it.
“I’ll look over your resume and take your offer into consideration. We might be able to come up with something for you here.” Elliot took the resume, accepted Jonas’ thanks, then waited until Jonas left the store before handing the resume to Aldric. “Put that on my desk, would you, please?”
“Yes, sir.” Aldric took the resume. The paper it was printed on was thick and smooth—no doubt some expensive stuff, not the cheap packages of printer paper Aldric had bought before.
Elliot cleared his throat, and Aldric looked at him. “Sir?”
“As I just told that young man, call me Elliot, please,” Elliot said, his mouth curving in the hint of a smile. “You have this job, Aldric. I’m not taking it away from you. Do you believe me?”
Aldric hated that his skittishness was so obvious. “Yes, si-er, Elliot. Thank you.” He told himself to stop there, but he couldn’t. “It’s just that Jonas…well, he has a lot of experience and knows about this stuff already.”
Elliot shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t an asset to this business. I’ll look at his resume, and if it’s impressive enough, perhaps I’ll see about bringing him on part-time or exploring the options he mentioned. Whatever I decide will not result in you losing your position or hours. Do you believe me?”
Why Elliot seemed to care what Aldric believed was beyond him. Aldric didn’t get creepy daddy vibes off Elliot—he just came across as a decent human being who cared about others.
“Yes, I do.” Aldric exhaled a shaky breath and realized that he meant it. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”
As he made his way along the narrow aisle between the table displays, wood cabinets and
hand-carved dressers to Elliot’s office, it took all Aldric’s willpower not to read Jonas’ resume. He set the paper on the desk and strode back behind the counter. Every step he’d taken had given him more confidence that he’d be able to keep this job. For whatever reason, Elliot had hired him, and Aldric would work hard to prove that Elliot hadn’t made a mistake.
* * * *
Aldric had been worried when Elliot had decided to hire Jonas, but a week into working together, he had to admit that the other member of their small staff wasn’t a threat to him. Once Aldric had made up his mind to let his defenses down so he could learn from Jonas, it was almost easy to let go of the worry he’d had over being fired.
Even though Aldric had only been at Intrinsic Value for a week and a half, he had a lot of the stock memorized. He was learning much faster than he’d thought he’d be capable of doing. Pride swelled in him every time Elliot asked him about some of the merchandise and he was able to answer correctly.
Jonas was a nice guy, too. He never talked down to Aldric or tried to make him feel like he was stupid for not knowing as much as Jonas or Elliot did about the antiques or what was antique and what was vintage or even retro—and what those terms meant. Jonas was employed part-time in the shop and would do contract work as well, seeking out treasures for the shop at some point in the future. He hadn’t worked in a store before, and Aldric thought he’d mentioned something about teaching, or a classroom, but Jonas had changed the subject. He looked like a professor, Aldric thought.
“Aldric, the shipment has arrived! Do you want to come help me with it, and see what we’ve got?” Elliot tipped his chin toward Jonas, who’d just entered the shop. “Jonas can handle the front for a while.”
“Yes, thanks!” A small leap of excitement shot through Aldric. He wanted to learn how to do everything related to Intrinsic Value. It wasn’t only for himself. He wanted to make Elliot proud of him. Jonas, too, though it hadn’t been Jonas who’d taken a chance on him.
For the first time in possibly ever, Aldric was beginning to feel like he wasn’t stupid and resigned to a life of barely getting by, working shitty jobs. If he continued working for Elliot, he might even consider going to college and getting some kind of degree that would help him in the business of antiquities. That was a possibility to examine at a later time. He’d been surprised to discover a love for old things, even ones that weren’t antiques. He was learning to view life, and items in it, with a different perspective.
In the stock room, Elliot removed his suit jacket. The silver vest he wore over his pale blue shirt emphasized his chest build. Aldric wondered if he’d look as neat if he dressed like Elliot. He almost felt as excited as Elliot appeared to be at the arrival of the blind shipment.
“Blind means you bought it without inspecting it, doesn’t it?” Aldric hoped he’d remembered that right.
Elliot grinned and placed one hand on the biggest box on the floor. “Indeed it does. From the Buckman estate. While I wouldn’t stand a chance of buying any of the deceased’s priceless or luxury items, his widow wished to sell off the contents of her late husband’s study. She wasn’t interested in getting an appraisal to see if there was anything of real value, merely wanted everything gone. Not a wise decision on her part, and not on mine either, to purchase items unseen, but sometimes it’s just…a feeling. And fun! I didn’t spend a lot, either. No more than I could afford to lose. The same rule as one should follow in a casino.”
Aldric couldn’t imagine being able to afford to lose any money. He’d gotten paid on Friday, four days ago. That check, along with the one he’d get in three more days, would cover his rent and utilities. The few groceries he’d bought would have to last him, but after his second check, he figured he should be able to start saving money and buying a little more, maybe even some new clothes, although nothing as extravagant as the suits Elliot wore.
“Aldric? You drifted away on me.” Elliot nudged his arm. “Did you eat breakfast?”
Aldric gave a half-nod. “Yeah, uh, yes, I had something.” Tea and crackers, but it was food. “Sorry, I was thinking about antiques.” He glanced up at Elliot.
Elliot studied him for a moment, then grunted. “You have a knack for antiquities, and a sharp mind like yours will be an asset to this shop. But you need to keep that brain fueled. Grab the box opener off the desk while I get a lunch sent over for all of us.”
One thing Aldric had learned in his short time there was not to argue with Elliot over food. He didn’t know if Elliot had, at some point in his life, been as poor and hungry as Aldric had been off and on for the past few years, although it seemed unlikely, but something must have happened to make Elliot so focused on providing for himself and his employees.
Aldric gave his glasses a quick clean then picked up the boxcutter and carefully pushed the blade out enough to cut through tape. He took his time opening the box, not wanting to risk damaging anything inside. He was working on the third and final box when Elliot returned.
“You didn’t open the boxes?” Elliot sounded surprised.
Aldric finished cutting the tape and stood up. He put the blade back in the cutter and set it on the desk. “No. You ordered this stuff, so you should get to see what you got.”
“Like opening gifts?” Elliot pointed to the first box. “Where’s the fun in that? Go ahead and start on that one.”
It was like opening gifts, something Aldric had little experience in. He couldn’t help but smile as he parted the box top and removed the packing paper that was sticking out. The first item was a set of wooden bowls, their different sizes reminding Aldric of Russian dolls, because they all nestled into the biggest one, making them appear to be just one bowl. Their light color made him suspect they were pine. They felt very smooth and appeared to be newer than an antique would have been. He held the smallest one up and offered it to Elliot.
“What do you think of the set?” Elliot asked, taking the bowl and setting it on the desk.
Aldric had already reached for the second item but paused to answer Elliot. “They’re not old. No scratches, and the wood’s very thin. I thought it might be pine, but I don’t know. They don’t weigh much. They’re not antiques.” No way were the bowls over a hundred years old.
“Very good,” Elliot praised. “It is a cheap faux-wood bowl. We won’t put that stack on our shelves. You are welcome to take them home and use them. Otherwise, I’ll throw them out.”
“I’ll take them. Throwing them away seems wasteful.” Aldric flinched. “I didn’t mean that as an insult.”
“And I didn’t take it as one. There is nothing at all wrong with being frugal. If you can use any of the items in this shipment that aren’t going to be sold here, of course I want you to take them.”
Aldric was going to ask if Jonas would want anything, but the feel of cool, inlaid metal under his fingertips distracted him. A finger trap! He’d only ever seen or heard of ones made of thin wood or paper, but this ornate one was something else. Working at Intrinsic Value was an adventure, and Aldric lost himself in discovering new-to-him things from the blind sale. He almost hated to stop for lunch, but the scent of hot food from the brasserie opposite was too enticing to resist.
It surprised him how quickly his days passed at work. Before he knew it, Elliot was putting the Closed sign up, and Jonas had left.
“I’d say we did a good day’s work.” Elliot patted his vest pocket, where he carried his grandfather’s pocket watch.
Aldric had asked him about it when he’d seen the golden watch the first time, and Elliot had explained that it had belonged to his grandpapa. There were no such things for Aldric to inherit—not that he knew of, anyway. He was a little more envious of the connection Elliot must have had with his grandpa than he coveted the watch. It just made Aldric see how much his own familial ties were lacking.
“You’re off tomorrow, but if you’d like to come in for some overtime, you can make up the stock cards on the items we received today,” Elliot offer
ed. The shipment had contained a few antiques amid the newer items.
Aldric had wondered what he’d do with his time tomorrow, and he was pleased to be given the opportunity to work. “I’ll be here when you open. Thank you, Elliot.”
“No problem. You’re a great help, Aldric. Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride home?” Elliot took his suit jacket off the coat rack. “It’s not a problem at all, and it’d be easier than you having to carry that box onto the bus.”
“No thanks. I appreciate the offer, though.” Aldric didn’t want Elliot or Jonas to see the decrepit garage apartment he lived in. “I’ll be fine. I can lock up here, if you want? I still have to tape the box shut, and I want to dust that back shelf we didn’t get to today.”
Elliot frowned as he put his suit jacket on. “I wish you’d let me take you home, but I won’t nag again. The back shelf can wait unless you’re just set on doing it.”
“My lunch break was a little over what it should have been. No way could I resist the gelato Jonas brought us.” Aldric hadn’t had anything so decadent in a long time. “Go on. I’ve got this.”
Elliot had given him a set of keys to the shop his first day there. That level of trust had hit Aldric square in the chest.
Elliot paused by the counter, where Aldric was wiping down the register. “If you’re not comfortable closing alone, I can hang around.”
“I’m good,” Aldric assured him while taking care of a persistent smudge.
“Okay. See you in the morning, then.” Elliot tapped the counter, then headed out the back. “I’ll lock the door behind me.”
Artifacts Page 3