Daniel had his own presentation to give jointly with Spen on the day after Tony’s, on some of the practical issues of the national rollout of Cross-Channel. He wasn’t nervous—it wasn’t any more challenging than delivering a paper to his class, and Spen would handle the hard stuff—but there were materials to print for that as well. Tony had insisted on leaving it all to the very last minute so it could be as up-to-date and relevant as possible. Spen, unsurprisingly, had not been complimentary about that plan. Daniel personally tried not to dwell on whether Tony was effective at his job or not, because he was afraid that if he went down that line of thinking, his discontent with his job would grow to the point where it was impossible to continue. He chose to concentrate on his own tasks and performing them to the limit of his ability. Spen had the luxury of criticism. Daniel didn’t.
Finally Tony set him free so he could wine and dine with the national office people—Daniel was far too lowly to attend, much to his relief. Spen found him in the foyer and announced, “Room service”, in a tone that brooked no argument. Not that Daniel had one to offer, or wanted one. Spen had, through his regional colleagues, obtained copies of two hard to find films Daniel had mentioned wishing he had seen—Spen waved the thumb drive in triumph as they rode the elevator up to their floor. They ate their room service supper while sitting cross-legged on Spen’s bed, watching the first film on his laptop. The kems delivered their verdict on the entertainment by refusing to sit still, romping around the room, returning to one or other of the humans’ laps for cuddles and scritches, before heading off to explore the bathroom or the closet again.
“Good special effects,” Daniel said politely.
“Yeah, but crap acting and toilet paper plot. It’s okay. The second one is awesome. You just need to see the first one for set up.” Spen cracked his spine. The position was more awkward for him because of his greater height, forcing him to hunch over the computer. “You comfortable there? You can lie down. There’s room for two. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I swear.”
Daniel saw his face slowly turn scarlet in the mirror on the wall opposite him. “Um...okay. Just let me...wash my face.”
He splashed cold water on his burning skin until the colour turned back to its usual paleness. Spen had an advantage in that way—even if he was prone to blushing, which he probably wasn’t, every passing mood or embarrassment didn’t show itself on his dark face the way it did on Daniel’s.
Oh God. There was no way to refuse Spen’s innocent invitation without looking as if Daniel was reading much more into it than there was, but was his self-control up to it? Would Spen even care if it wasn’t?
Fortunately Kani came to his rescue. The little nuisance, after behaving like a terror during the first movie, lay demurely on Daniel’s lap all through the second one, and didn’t move even when Myko joined him from time to time. Daniel gave him lots of petting and scritches in gratitude, and was able to concentrate on the film—which was, as promised, much better than the first—rather than on Spen. He could even feel comfortable stretched out next to Spen like this, almost like he would if he was watching a movie with Alex.
Almost. Spen’s long legs and endearingly enormous feet distracted Daniel more than they should have. But he didn’t disgrace or embarrass himself, and managed to enjoy the movie in all its mindless theatrics. The plot was beyond absurd, but the pace was fast enough that it hardly mattered.
“High concept to the max,” Spen rightly summarised. “Good fun though. Another?”
Daniel took the chance to gracefully escape from the heavenly torment of Spen’s bed. “I’d love to, but Tony’s going to be at me first thing again.”
“Tell him to fuck off. You don’t start at eight in the office.”
“Right, and after that I won’t have to worry about starting at all. You’d love it if Luke or Jyoti told you to screw off.”
Spen grinned. “They do it half a dozen times a day. But then I have a sense of humour and Noball doesn’t.”
“Oh thanks. Now I have to look at him with a straight face and remember you calling him that.”
Spen made a little bow. “You’re welcome. You should lighten up, Danny.”
Daniel growled. “I’ll lighten up when the world stops sucking.”
Spen sat up, and his expression turned suddenly serious. “Did it suck tonight?”
“No. No, it didn’t. Thank you. You know what I mean, though.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t fix the rest of it, but if I can give you a little break from the misery sometimes....”
Daniel turned away a little to hide the effect Spen’s kind words—the warmth in his eyes—had on him. He did not want to cry in front of him again. “Thanks. I’ll use the bathroom, if you want to fill out the breakfast card, okay?” He hurried off before his voice betrayed him. Damn it, Spen was so bad for his control in so many ways. But without Spen, Daniel didn’t know that he would cope at all right now.
Chapter 8
When Daniel’s mobile went off again as they were eating breakfast, Spen cursed Tony Noble in his mind a lot more fluently than he dared let fly in front of Daniel. Not that his feelings were a secret, but it made Daniel’s job more difficult, and wasn’t very professional either. He considered Noble to be abusing the privilege of having his PA at the conference, and treating Daniel disrespectfully. Ironically, Spen’s regard for Daniel stopped him complaining to Noble directly, even though, since they were both the same managerial grade, he was perfectly entitled to do so. However, complaining was all he could do, and Noble would only take it out on Daniel. Spen was waiting for Noble to unequivocally cross the line in a way that didn’t compromise Daniel, and then he planned to raise holy hell. It wasn’t right that a manager in a company working with vulnerable people should treat a vulnerable employee like shit, especially if he’d done it before.
But Spen had to be discreet, so for now he did what he could to protect Daniel and bolster his confidence. The kid had positively bloomed away from the pressures of the office and looking after his brother and sister, even with his boss being a prick. If he took even a little bit of that self-assurance and happiness back home, Spen would consider his efforts a success, and a pleasure. He liked Daniel’s smile and his company. He’d enjoy those as long as he could, without a twinge of conscience.
He saw little of Daniel during the day, and when he did, it was usually as Daniel was rushing out of the hotel or into the lift, carrying bundles of papers, or talking on his phone. Noble was the only manager at his level to have his PA with him, a concession because of the importance of the Cross-Channel project. Spen’s regional colleagues had commented unflatteringly on that fact during their informal meetings. Spen didn’t know a single person who held Noball in high regard and yet he was senior management’s fair-haired boy. Spen could easily run the IT department for a company a hundred times the size of the one in which he worked, but he would never understand that kind of business politics.
Finally Wednesday afternoon arrived, and the presentation to all the regional managers and the national office was held. Daniel and Spen sat at the back, managing the audiovisual. Noble spoke apparently extempore, though Spen knew from Daniel how carefully rehearsed the speech was. The act worked, and Spen had to grant the man a grudging admiration for talking with apparent fluency about a topic on which he was hardly an expert, making it sound like he had skilfully initiated and guided the project, when all he’d really done was throw the right people at it. Which, of course, required a talent too, though it wasn’t the one Noble wanted to display.
Spen handled the more technical questions during the Q&A, but Noble coped with the rest pretty well, Daniel having moved to his side to hand up this or that sheet of facts and figures. They appeared like a well-oiled machine, even if in reality Noble was the squeaky wheel and the lubricant was more like Daniel’s blood, sweat...and tears.
At the end Noble sat down, flushed with pleasure at the applause. Daniel smiled, more relieved than delighted
. Spen understood why—the pressure was off for a little while, and Noble’s good mood could only be a bonus.
As the room cleared, Noble clapped his hand on Spen’s arm. “Come for a drink. That went very well.”
“Thanks, but I’m meeting Eastern for drinks and then dinner. Sorry.”
“Ah, never mind. Daniel? I owe you a glass of something expensive, I think.”
“Oh, it’s okay—”
“Now, Daniel. You have to let me crow a little. Perks of the position. I insist.”
Spen wanted to kick the bastard in the knee, but Daniel gave Noble a sickly smile. “Sure, why not. I’ll see you later, Spen?”
“I won’t be late. No way can I keep up with Eastern. Take it easy, Daniel.”
Daniel waved him off, before Noble firmly steered him in the direction of the hotel bar. At least two other managers caught up with them, which eased the sudden worry Spen felt. Noble wouldn’t try anything in front of his colleagues, and the worst Daniel would suffer would be terminal boredom. Sorry, kid. Can’t rescue you tonight.
~~~~~~~~
The trick with dealing with Eastern—and Northern, and Southern and Isles—was not to get into buying rounds, which was harder than it sounded. The idea of someone quietly nursing a pint of bitter while the rest were downing tequila shots and vodka mixes was anathema to twenty excitable, loud and slightly drunk nerds who could make a lot of noise when they wanted something. Spen bought a round early, held up his nearly full glass as an answer to “Do you want another?” for as long as he could, and ignored extra pints arriving unwanted by his elbow. He wasn’t the only one taking it easy—the older veterans of the national conference had learned their lesson years ago as he had, and since they were the ones he most wanted to talk to, it was natural enough to move away from the louder, larger group to chat.
Spen was deep in a raging debate about the merits of server architecture when he felt his phone vibrate. “Sorry, I should get this,” he said to his companions. The call was from his mother. “Hi, Mum. Hang on, I can’t hear you.” He moved outside and closed the glass door behind. The damp weather meant he was alone out on the deck. “What’s up?”
“Spencer, Dee’s been trying to call Daniel for half an hour or more. His phone keeps going to voice mail. Is he there with you?”
“No, he was having a drink with his boss and some other people. Supper too, I guess,” he added, looking at the time. “Let me see if I can track him down and get him to call. He probably just forgot how late it was.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what it was. But the child is worried and I thought I’d see if I could help.”
“No problems, Mum. I’ll call you back as soon as I find him.”
The presentation had been over for nearly two hours. Daniel was either having dinner with Noble or up in their room. Spen called his mobile, but immediately went through to voice mail. Daniel never turned off his phone, he said. Dee or Alex might need him. Was he talking to someone? For half an hour? Unlikely, but not impossible.
He went back inside the bar and found his friends. “Sorry, guys. I just need to duck out for a bit. I’ll find you at the restaurant if you’ve gone by the time I get back, okay?”
He headed back to the hotel. The hotel bar was largely empty—certainly no Noble or Daniel. The restaurant was also quiet, and the bistro was closed.
He returned to the bar, and caught the attention of the bar attendant. “Hi. I’m looking for a friend of mine—young man, red hair. Would have been with an older man, maybe a few of them, an hour or so. All guests of the hotel.”
“About twenty, wearing a suit and tie? They all left an hour ago.”
“Did you notice if they went out or upstairs?”
Her forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Uh, three of the older men went out the front. The young guy and another older guy went towards the lifts. I can’t be sure they didn’t follow the others out though. The toilets are that way too.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. Did you want a drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
She nodded and went down the other end of the bar to empty the glass washer.
Spen bit his lip, thinking. Myko jumped onto the bar and meeped in distress. Spen patted him. “Where’s Kani, squirt? Do you know?”
Myko squeaked, jumped down, and ran to the lifts. Did that mean he thought Kani—and Daniel—were in the hotel? Spen had nothing else to go on, so he followed his kem and took the elevator to their floor. He tried their room—empty. He tried Noble’s mobile—no answer.
Okay, now he was worried.
Myko climbed up onto his shoulder and bit his ear. “Ow! What did you do that for, you menace?” Myko jumped to the floor and stamped his foot. “All right, I’m listening. Where?”
Myko ran back to the elevators. Spen followed, confused as to what his kem wanted. In the elevator car, he picked Myko up. “Okay, where?” Myko went to bite his finger in frustration, but Spen yanked it out of the way. “No, you don’t. Wait.” He held his kem near the buttons for the floors. “Which one?” Myko nudged the one for the floor above with his nose. “Noble’s room?” Myko squeaked. “Shit.”
He pressed the button and as soon as the car arrived, bolted out and down the corridor. Myko ran ahead of him, squeaking in distress, and at Noble’s door, actually disappeared through it. Spen banged on the door—no answer. “Tony? Are you in there?” Still no answer.
Myko reappeared through the door. “He’s not there—” Spen started to say, but stopped. Behind Myko, a small grey form appeared. “Kani?”
The little kem squeaked faintly and fell over. Myko meeped in distress, licking Kani’s face and nudging him. Spen picked them both up. Kani was conscious, but severely disoriented.
The only way to do anything to a kem was to hurt its human. Which meant....
He cuddled the kems with one arm, and used his free hand to bang on Noble’s door again. “Daniel! Tony! Open this door!”
No response, even though he kept it up for over a minute. He turned, intending to look for a manager, only to discover a manager—and a burly porter—had found him first.
“Sir, you’re disturbing our guests,” the manager said. Behind her, the big porter flexed his impressive biceps.
“Yeah, too bad. My friend’s in there, and he’s sick. Look at his kem.” He held Kani out. The lolling head and panting told the story better than he could. “I know he’s in there, but I can’t get anyone to open the door. Please—he’s probably unconscious.”
The manager’s expression changed from annoyance to concern. “I have a master key. Let me.” She knocked once on the door. “Sir? If you’re in there....”
The door opened before she had a chance to pull her keycard out of her pocket. Noble stood there, somewhat untidily dressed. “Spencer? I was just about to call someone.”
Spen pushed past him. “Where’s Daniel...shit.” He ran over to the bed where Daniel lay face down. “Daniel? Wake up, kid. What the fuck did you do to him, Noble?”
“Nothing—don’t be ridiculous. I was just about to call an ambulance. He turned up ten minutes ago in a confused state, said he felt unwell, so I let him lie down since he wasn’t in a fit state to return to his room. I only realised he wasn’t simply asleep a minute or so ago when you knocked.”
Spen didn’t believe a word of it, but it wasn’t important right now. “Call an ambulance, now,” he snapped at the two hotel staff, then he turned Daniel into the recovery position. He was breathing, albeit slowly, and his pulse was also rather slow. He was also much paler than normal, which meant he looked practically transparent, and Myko’s worried squeaks and Kani’s condition confirmed that this wasn’t right. “Hurry!”
The porter went to the room phone. The manager called someone on her mobile. Noble went outside. Spen ignored them all, concentrating on Daniel. He didn’t seem to have any injury, and was dressed, though his shirt was untucked and misbuttoned, and his fly wasn’t fully closed.
He also smelled of something that Spen found familiar but couldn’t place. “What happened to you?” Spen murmured, brushing his hand through Daniel’s fine red hair. “Where’s the ambulance?”
The porter answered. “Coming, sir. Let me have a look—I’m a first aider.”
So was Spen, but it never hurt to have a second opinion. While the porter checked Daniel over, Spen turned to the manager. “Where did Noble—that guest—go?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Outside somewhere. Where is Daniel’s room?”
“It’s mine,” he said and gave the room number. “I’m Spencer Reardon, his colleague and his emergency contact at the moment, as his family are staying with my parents.”
“Then you should go with him to the hospital. I’ll arrange that when the ambulance gets here.”
The paramedics arrived five minutes later and attached a scary number of leads to a still unconscious Daniel. “Has he been drinking?” one of them asked while he fastened a blood pressure cuff to Daniel’s arm.
“Yes, but not to excess that I know of. His boss was with him, and some other managers. He wouldn't get drunk in front of them.” And just where the fuck was Noble now? “His kem is acting weird too.”
Spen held Kani out so the paramedic could take a long look. “That’s not alcohol,” he said, though he didn’t say what else it was likely to be. Spen could guess though. He looked around the room. Everything was tidy—no cups or bottles, not even in the trash. Had Daniel ingested something in the bar?
The paramedics put Daniel on oxygen and inserted an IV port, before loading him onto a gurney. “We’ll be taking him to Central,” the other paramedic said. “Is anyone going to come there with him?”
“Me,” Spen said. “I’ll follow.”
“A taxi should be waiting downstairs, Mr Reardon,” the manager said.
“We’ll let them know at the hospital,” the paramedic told Spen.
A Fluffy Tale 2: Warm & Fuzzy Page 7