Lexington Black

by Savannah Smythe

  Lexington Black

  by Savannah Smythe

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright Savannah Smythe January 2015

  Smashwords Licence Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and places are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, or actual locales, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission by the author.

  Note from the Author

  This book contains graphic sexual scenes between two consenting male adults. If you find such content objectionable, please do not read this book.

  The book has been written as a romance erotica, therefore practicalities like protection against HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases are dispensed with. In reality, please always practise safe sex.

  Stay safe and enjoy!

  CHAPTER 1 - A Nasty Shock

  The first sign that something was amiss was the sight of his grandfather clock on the driveway.

  Rob paused as he drove between the tall brick pillars that signaled the entrance to his house, and took in what was in front of him. The clock was not on its own. It stood sentry over five black plastic sacks and two battered suitcases, together with an even more well-worn rucksack. Rob recognised it as being one that had seen him around most of Europe when he was in his twenties, not so very long ago.

  It was mid-November and the rain had been coming down all day, icy, spiteful needles that soaked within moments everything and everyone unfortunate enough to be outside. As Rob parked the car, he saw that the clock had to have been out there for a good few hours. The mahogany was stained far darker than usual.

  He felt a stab of anger at Sandy, his wife of five years. She had always hated that clock, yet he would never part with it because it was one of the last reminders he had of his father. It seemed as if she had ridden rough-shod over his feelings yet again and had taken matters into her own hands.

  Looking at the forlorn, rain-stained clock and bulging, neatly-tied black sacks, his anger grew. Sandy had obviously been clearing out again, knowing he could not challenge her about it as she was flying out to Hong Kong that night. No doubt she was already in the First Class departures lounge, drinking champagne and feeling satisfied with herself. She hated clutter, something he could sympathise with but not when it meant throwing out his beloved possessions. He found his phone and called her number, but was not surprised when it went directly to voicemail. Sandy wasn't one to avoid confrontation, but she would not waste her time on futile conversations either. As far as she was concerned, the deed had been done and that was the end of it.

  He pushed his key in the lock, weary and not looking forward to having to manhandle the clock out of the rain. The timepiece was over two hundred years old and needed loving care.

  The key was stuck. As he pulled it out and fumbled around again, he couldn't see much under the porch as the bulb had blown two weeks previously. Sandy had been nagging at him to fix it but like a lot of things recently, he just hadn't got round to it yet.

  He sighed and tried again. Nothing.

  'What the hell?' He frowned at the key, then the lock. Peering at it, he thought he would need to get some WD40 on that lock mechanism. It meant he would have to hunt around in the garage in the dark for it, when all he wanted was to sit down in the warm and have a glass of Scotch.

  The key wasn't going to work, however hard he tried. Frustrated, he walked around the side of the house. His footsteps crunched on the gravel as he headed to the back door. The security light switched on, bathing him in its accusatory glow. The rain intensified as he fumbled for the key. Rivulets of cold water trickled down the back of his neck and spattered on his glasses, blurring his vision.

  Then he noticed something else that was odd. The door was different. It was new, its whiteness stark in the harsh lighting. The lock did not match the old-fashioned long-stemmed key he had in his hand. It needed something else entirely.

  Now furious, he pulled his phone out of his jacket and dialed Sandy's number. Voicemail again. He left a blistering message but it didn't make him feel much better.

  Footsteps approached, crunching on the gravel.

  'Rob?' It was his next door neighbour, Mrs. Bellamy. She was wearing her raincoat and huddled under a large umbrella. 'Are you all right?'

  'I can't get into my house.' Rob forced a laugh, pushing his anger back down so it would not show on his face. He took off his glasses and shook the rain away. When he put them on again, he could see the sympathy written on the old woman's face.

  'There was a locksmith's van here today. It was here quite a while. Then Sandy came round and asked me to give you this.' She held out a long white envelope. Rob took it with numbed fingers. 'I would have called you, especially after I noticed your beautiful clock outside, but I didn't have your mobile. Would you like a cup of tea? It's very cold out here.'

  'Thank you. I'll be there in a moment. Go back into the warm while I put the clock in the car.'

  As he opened the envelope and read the short letter, Rob felt sick, thinking of the row he and Sandy had had the previous evening, over her announcement that she had booked to go to Mauritius for Christmas, because she couldn't stand anyone in his family, the exception being Sara, his youngest sister, with whom she was inexplicably best friends. He couldn't stand his family either, apart from his twin sister Geri, and she had shown Sandy nothing but kindness since they first met.

  He was also pissed off that his wife had decided he wasn't worth her company either. In fact, there was so much wrong with her decision that he had ended the row with a parting shot before he left for the pub, saying if she didn't want to be married any more, that was fine by him.

  He went back to the front of the house and opened the boot of his old Volvo estate. After flattening the seats as far as they would go, he struggled with the clock, being as gentle as he could as he laid it down. The old mahogany was thin and could splinter with the slightest wrong touch. Then the mechanism, which was also very delicate, went in. By the time he had packed the suitcases, rucksack and black bags around it, he was soaked to the skin and exhausted. Before closing the door, he unzipped one of the suitcases.

  Inside were a mass of papers, old CD's, vinyl records, photographs, his bank statements, his passport and birth certificates. Frantically, he tore open the other sacks before staring at the wreckage. This was his whole life and she had thrown it out. It confirmed what her curtly-worded letter had said.

  Their marriage was over.

  ******

  'I can't believe she's done something so horribly callous,' Geri said heatedly as she poured more wine. 'What does she expect you to do? Live out of a cardboard box?'

  'She knows I have savings. She mentioned them in her letter.' Rob pulled the creased piece of paper out of his pocket and opened it up.

  I have filed for divorce. I doubt it is much of a surprise as we've barely exchanged a civil word for months. I'm not going to draw this out or make it any more painful than it has to be, but you must know that the house is in fact mine. You will be entitled to the deposit you contributed when it was bought, but you have no more claim upon it. You lost that privilege when you refused to obtain a decent wage after your redundancy. I won't allow you to feed off my income any longer. It is time you stood on your own two feet. You have enough money to start again, so you won't need any more from
me.

  'Ouch,' Geri said grimly.

  Rob looked at his twin over the top of his glasses before continuing.

  I have engaged my solicitor to facilitate the necessary procedure. His advice is to go ahead quickly and get it over with as soon as possible. You will be hearing from him shortly.

  Rob sighed and tucked the letter away. He was sitting in his sister's comfortable, messy sitting room, surrounded by high bookshelves bursting with books, music scores and DVD's. From another room, a piano could be heard; Chopin with attitude.

  'He's had a bad day in the classroom,' Geri explained. 'He always plays Chopin for an hour if he's had a bad day, but we were talking about you. Does anyone else in the family know yet?'

  'Why would they, unless she's told them.'

  Geri reached over and ruffled his hair, just like she used to when they were children. Arriving in the world five minutes before him, she had assumed the role of older sister from day one and played it step by step.

  'How can you be so calm about it?'

  'What do you expect me to do, run round the garden screaming my head off? I'm calling my lawyer in the morning. Right now there's nothing I can do.'

  'No, but you don't even seem that surprised.'

  'I told you last year we were ... not having problems exactly but ...'

  'I think the word you used was "dreary."'

  'That was Sandy's word for me, yeah.' It still hurt, although a large part of him knew there was some grain of truth in it. Since his redundancy he had played things safe, working nine to five in a job which required little more than light book-keeping and dealing with customers buying petrol.

  'The spark had gone, I admit that, but that doesn't give her the right...'

  'No,' Geri said quickly. 'She's out of order and what she's done probably isn't even legal.'

  'As I said. I'll call him in the morning.'

  'And if he says you've a right to stay in the house?'

  Rob threw up his hands. 'Why would I want to if she obviously doesn't want me there? It will be hell on earth. Besides, we put the house in her name when I was made redundant. At the time it seemed like the sensible thing to do.'

  'You mean, she thought it was the sensible thing to do.'

  'Yeah, but if she doesn't want me to get hold of her money, it won't happen. To be honest, I don't want to lose dignity trying.'

  The phone began to ring ominously. They looked at each other in that way only twin siblings have. 'Bridezilla,' they said as one.

  Rob could hear his youngest sister's voice from the other side of the room. Sandy had obviously called her. As she was to be Sara's Matron-of-Honour in nine months time, the complications brought about by the separation had just increased exponentially.

  'She wants to speak to you,' Geri said, holding the phone aloft.

  Rob took the phone gingerly, as if it were about to bite him.

  'How could you!' Sara's voice was like a yapping dog. 'Sandy's just emailed me, saying she won't be able to be Head Bridesmaid. Now what am I going to do?'

  'Oh, I'm sorry. If I'd have known, I would have postponed the breakdown of my marriage until after your wedding.' Rob loaded his voice with sarcasm. He had never seen eye to eye with his younger sister.

  'You're so selfish. You made a vow, you know! For richer, for poorer? What on earth is Mummy going to think?'

  'Oh, for Heaven's sake, you're twenty-eight years old. You should have stopped calling her Mummy years ago! And I don't give a damn what she thinks.'

  'Well, you should! You should be a man about it instead of running to Geraldine like the crybaby you always were! Our father died twenty years ago. It's about time you got over it, Robin. Everyone else in the family has.'

  Rob felt his face freeze. 'Two words, sis. You and fuck. Rearrange them how you like.' He cut the connection and threw the receiver back over to Geri.

  'What the hell did she say to you?'

  Rob shook his head, too angry to speak. He got up and went out into the garden. He wanted to punch something and pretend it was either Sara or Sandy's smug faces.

  He stopped, shocked at himself. He was not a violent person. He was laid back to the point of being horizontal most of the time. Calm, not given to impulsive gestures or exuberance, yet right then he roamed around like an incarcerated lion, his fists bunching and releasing.

  He didn't mind so much that Sara had taunted him. He had always been able to cry and not feel embarrassed about it. What really hurt was the jibe about their father. He had loved him. Loved him like none of his siblings had, not even Geri. Rob had thought their bond was unbreakable. That was, until he was found in his office, having taken a lethal concoction of sleeping tablets and poison from the school's science lab. In the end, the adoration of his favourite son had not been enough.

  'Hey, bro,' Geri said softly behind him.

  'What gives her the right to say things like that? She has no right. She hardly knew him!'

  'She's an idiot,' Geri agreed. 'She's just spouting the same old guff Mum has filled our head with for years. It took me a long time to see past it but you always did, Rob. You kept your faith in Dad.'

  'I hated him though,' Rob muttered. 'I still can't look at his picture.'

  'Yeah, but you know why he did it. You know he couldn't live a lie any longer.'

  'Yes, but it didn't stop me ballsing up my marriage, did it?'

  'How do you mean?'

  Rob heaved a shuddering sigh. 'I'm not going to fight Sandy over this, Geri. I've been a lousy husband. Ever since Dad died I've never been able to fully trust anyone. Too afraid they would just walk away from me one day like he did. That's why she left me. I just wasn't prepared to give all of myself. To make that final leap. Maybe there's some part of me that wants to be prepared for the worst.' He looked down at her. 'That's why I'm not really surprised she did what she did. I think there was a part of me that wanted it to happen.'

  'Maybe but I think you're being too hard on yourself. Don't ever forget that she was the one that threw you out onto the street. She's totally out of order.'

  That night he crashed in the spare room, grateful for the warmth and comfort. He wasn't tempted to stay for longer than a few days, although Geri had repeated her offer. She and Simon's relationship was strong but he didn't want to do anything to get in their way.

  ******

  The next afternoon after work, he assessed his situation, sitting with the suitcases and dustbin sacks crowded around him in the sitting room. Sighing, he tipped them all up onto the floor.

  The first contained his three old suits. He hadn't worn them for years but kept them just in case. In case of what, he did not know. A new career? He had no desire to work in the City again.

  Next he found two pairs of Loakes shoes and a fistful of designer silk ties, all shoved in with various shirts and tee-shirts. It seemed as if she had gone through the whole house methodically, not giving him any excuse to go back for anything she might have missed.

  One suitcase held his shaver, toothbrush, laptop computer and one battered photo album containing his family history, plus more papers. The other had all his paperwork and notepads with the various steampunk novels he had written over the years. All started and never finished apart from one, which he had self-published on-line. He had shown it to Sandy, saying he was thinking of approaching a publisher. She had looked at it, laughed, and told him not to give up his day job.

  He hadn't written anything after that. Ironically, six months later he had lost his job. The opportunity had been there to launch his writing career but by then his confidence in his abilities was non-existent.

  He picked up the first notebook and flicked through it. He had written a lot at one time, and it wasn't as bad as Sandy said it was, even a few years down the line.

  It would be easy to get distracted though, and he had more important things to worry about, like where he was going to live, and what the hell he was going to do with his life from that day forward. He tossed the
notebook back on the pile, thinking a bonfire at the weekend would be a good way to start de-cluttering.

  So that was it. The entire contents of his life and five years of marriage, reduced to an untidy heap on his sister's living room carpet. He had a choice, which was to fight for justice at the way Sandy had treated him or just walk away.

  He knew without doubt what he was going to do.

  CHAPTER 2 - Test Driving

  In the five months since he had been living above Al's Kebab Emporium, Rob had learned to keep his windows shut at all times, even when it was hot outside. If he did not, his clothes and hair would be permeated with the faint smell of frying meat, which wasn't a great impression to give the good customers of Radley's Auto Emporium.

  Apart from not smelling like kebabs, Rob's work uniform was a far cry from his designer suit days, yet he avoided the border-line obscene tee-shirts with sexist logos on that his younger work colleagues favoured. As the Radley book-keeper, a tee-shirt with the message "ORGASM DONOR" wouldn't have gone down well with anyone. His boss was pretty tolerant, but only when customers were not likely to see them, and Rob's desk was in full view of the street.

  Every morning he would drive to work in the old Volvo that had replaced his Porsche 911 when his career had gone down the toilet, three years before. He was happy enough in his job, although he could do it blindfold. Every evening he would drive away, trying to pretend he wasn't dreading the evening, staring at the television in his dim little flat.

  The real problems in their marriage had started when he was made redundant. Overnight he was no longer a Junior Partner with a City accountancy firm, but someone who just hadn't made the grade.