by Jules Jones
John did go straight back to his room after the meal, but came back down at around ten o’clock to join the other four in the lounge. “Anything on TV?”
“Not a lot, but you’re welcome to try and find something. Or put a DVD on if you like.” He was surprised to see John wince. “What’s wrong?”
“What precipitated my move was my former landlord deciding to borrow one of my DVDs when I wasn’t there. And going into my room, unlocking a cupboard to which he’d kept a spare key, and picking the lock on a storage box in order to go through my DVDs.”
“Bloody hell,” Ray said. “I’d have decked the bastard. It’s one thing borrowing a book or video from an open shelf when the owner’s not around to ask; it’s another breaking into a locked cupboard.”
Charles could guess what sort of DVDs Sammy had found. But even if John’s collection had been entirely innocent, once John had found out about the breaking and entering, he’d have left. “Nasty. Well, if you’ve got any DVDs or books you’re happy to add to the general pool, put them in the bookcase over there and add them to the list so we know which belongs to whom. If you don’t want to do that but don’t mind people borrowing them when you’re not here to ask, say so and put them on an open shelf in your room. Otherwise they’re off-limits.” He’d be interested to see what sort of porn John found a turn-on, but he certainly wasn’t about to impose by asking.
“You’ve got a catalogue?” John asked.
“Makes it easier to keep track,” Liz said, nodding at the bookcase. “Even if we could remember without a list, we’ve got some duplicates between us. So we drop a name tag inside the cover and make a list as backup.”
“Mine will have to wait until I’ve got time to sort out which ones I don’t mind not being able to replace if they do go missing or get broken,” John said.
But Charles thought it was a sincere explanation, rather than an excuse to not put any out at all. John was definitely settling in.
Chapter Three
As John wrote out the cheque for his second month’s rent, he wondered how he could have been so stupid as to stay at Sammy’s that long. The only excuse he had was that it hadn’t seemed so bad at first. Things had got worse so slowly he’d become accustomed to them, like the frog in the cooking pot. But the contrast when he’d moved here had shocked him.
It wasn’t that his housemates stayed out of his room, because they didn’t. The difference was that if he asked them to leave, they did, immediately. If he asked them not to disturb him, they didn’t, unless it was urgent ‑‑ and their definition of urgent was the same as his. And they respected locks.
He was even beginning to feel as if it might be safe to be himself.
Not that he was about to throw aside years of caution, of course. He’d have to be here a lot longer for that. But it felt good to not have to worry. In this house he might even feel happy leaving his milder porn DVDs on the open shelf in his room, though not, of course, downstairs. That wouldn’t be fair on the others.
There were six of them in the house now, but the new woman looked to be a good fit. He cautiously liked them all, even Charles. Yes, Charles was one of the ways in which this house was ever so much better than the last. Charles was given to sharing his political views with the rest of the household; but unlike Sammy, he didn’t expect other people to passively agree with him just because he was the landlord. In fact, he relished an argument. Charles occasionally drove John up the wall with it, but somehow it didn’t matter once the argument was done. Because Charles listened as well as talked.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that Charles was easy on the eye. And that John didn’t have to worry about Charles noticing that he thought that. He had no intention of doing anything more than enjoying the view, but even being able to do that was bliss after the last year.
He signed the cheque and took it downstairs. Charles was in his home office, sorting through some leaflets on broadband.
“Hello, John. Don’t suppose you’ve got time to give me some advice on this?”
“Finally going to join the twenty-first century, then?” Not before time. He’d found the dial-up access painfully slow, one of the few drawbacks of the move.
“Well, it wasn’t urgent. Dial-up was there and worked. But it’s time to do something about it, especially with you living here.”
John winced, feeling slightly guilty. He had been a little vocal on the subject. He took the stack of leaflets and riffled through them. “What are you after?”
“Something that will support a full house all being online at the same time.”
“You’re really going to need to install a proper network as well, then.” And probably at least partly wired. Not everyone in the house would have wi-fi, and there were times when he wouldn’t want to trust even heavily encrypted wi-fi anyway. His room, at least, would have a wired outlet if he had anything to do with it. His secrets were going to stay secret.
“Could you do it?” Charles asked. “I’d pay you something, of course.”
“I’m not a network engineer.” At least Charles would take that at face value, rather than seeing it as an excuse. He wouldn’t be expected to give endless free technical support.
“No, but you know more about it than anyone else in the house does, and you live here ‑‑ you’re going to have a better idea of what we really need than someone coming in from outside.”
A fair point. And it would be a simple enough job. Tedious, but simple. It also helped that Charles had offered to pay rather than assuming that he’d give up his spare time for nothing. He doubted that it would be anything like enough to cover his normal hourly rate, but the gesture was the thing. “All right. I’ve got time now, if you want to start planning it.”
An hour later, Charles said, “And you said you’re not a network engineer.”
“I’m not. But in the country of the blind…”
“…the one-eyed man is king. Thanks, John. That was a very clear explanation.”
“You’re a good listener.” He’d enjoyed explaining things to Charles. It was good to teach someone who paid attention and wasn’t scared to ask questions when he didn’t understand something the first time.
Charles grinned at him. “It’s part of my job.” Charles stacked the brochures neatly and put them on one corner of his desk. “Put together an estimate of how much it will cost for the kit. Will fifty pounds do for your work on getting the basic network installed? The others can negotiate with you if they want your help setting up their own machines.”
“Yes, thanks,” John said without hesitation. It was on the low side if he charged a realistic market rate for his time; but it was also a damned generous offer, considering he was going to get a lot of personal benefit out of the installation. No exploitation in this house.
* * * * *
“You don’t have to breathe down my neck, you know,” he snapped as Charles got in the way. Again. “Sit down.”
“Sorry.” Charles sat cross-legged on the floor beside him.
“Why are you supervising me, anyway? You don’t know anything about network installation.”
“That’s why,” Charles said. “You might push off, and then someone else will have to maintain this. I’d rather know where it all is, even if I don’t know what it does.”
“Keep getting in my way, and I will push off.” Except he wouldn’t, and Charles had probably realised that. He liked this house too much, most of the time at least. They were friendly without being intrusive. Charles merrily tried to convert John to his brand of politics, but wasn’t in the least offended by John telling him that he was soft in the head. Somehow there was no real venom in it, on either side. “All right. If you can’t make yourself useful, just don’t get in the way. No, pass me that crimping tool.”
Miracles would never cease. Charles handed him the right tool. “You’re learning.”
Charles broke into a grin. “Not completely thick, then.”
God, but he was appealing whe
n he smiled like that. John couldn’t resist the urge to grin back. “No. Now try to keep it up.”
“Ah, if you’d said that that was what you wanted…”
Did he just make a pass at me? “No, it’s not.” Though it was a tempting idea.
One he firmly repressed. It wouldn’t do to get involved with his landlord, though the temptation existing was yet another way in which his life had improved in the last couple of months. Besides, it was almost certainly a casual joke. Or at best an offer of casual sex, and if he was going to do casual sex, he’d keep it outside this house. “Let’s see if we can get this finished today.”
“Good idea. You’ll be happier once we’ve got a working network, and so will everyone else.”
“And not just because I will stop bitching and moaning about being stuck in the dark ages.”
Charles laid a hand on his shoulder. “No. We’re grateful, John. I’m grateful.” He squeezed gently. “It was too easy to put off doing something about it, and we really did need something done, with this many people in the house wanting to be online.”
Not a pass, no. A friendly gesture, that was all it was. And a good thing, too, because John didn’t want a one-night stand with someone he lived with, and he certainly wasn’t prepared to get involved with anyone beyond a one-night stand unless he knew he could trust them with everything. He’d been hurt too often before. Let the undemanding companionship be enough for now.
He went back to his work. Get the network done and the broadband connection in place. Then he could download what he needed to keep him satisfied with his own hand.
* * * * *
The network was up and running by the following weekend, with everyone’s computers installed correctly. John was surprised by the way the others all took the time to thank him for the work he’d done. Surprised and gratified. He was too used to jobs where nobody appreciated his efforts, and it was a pleasant change to have people grateful for what was in essence a simple enough job. So much so that he was embarrassed when he was presented with a bottle of good malt whisky at dinner on Sunday night.
“There wasn’t any need ‑‑”
“Yes, there was,” Ray said. “Now shut up and stop pretending that you don’t care. We know there’s a real live person inside that shell.”
“All right. But we share it, at least one glass each.”
They did, and it was good. Very good, and not just the whisky. The company, and the way they let him be himself. No prying, no trying to draw him out. Just letting him sit there and enjoy the conversation around him without forcing him to join in.
As he finally went to bed, clutching his half-full bottle of whisky, he decided that he was really, truly happy for the first time in months. There were things he still wanted, even needed; but he could live without them so long as he was somewhere that made him feel safe.
Chapter Four
Charles read the latest memo and cursed. They did not need a crisis with their mailing list information just before a major campaign. “What the hell happened?”
“It was supposed to have been backed up. It probably was backed up. We just can’t find the backup, at least one in usable form.” Mary dropped a pair of CDs onto his desk. “There’s something on there, but we need someone who knows what they’re doing to get it out. Otherwise we’re going to have to go through the printouts and put it all back in by hand. Charles, we need to get someone who knows what they’re doing, full stop. This can’t go on.”
“I know.” It was all very well for central command to say that they didn’t need a full-time IT expert to look after their systems, or even a part-time expert; but in the long run it cost more in wasted time and money clearing up after the “of course I know computers; I did a one-week course at college” people than it would to hire a real computer bod in the first place.
Of course, he was influenced by hearing the occasional rant on the subject over the dinner table at home, but he’d already been thinking along those lines before he’d had a hacker move in.
That was it. John had said that he was likely to be working short hours for a while and was looking around for some part-time contract work. Boredom as much as worrying about the money, Charles suspected. “Mary, I think I know where to find someone who can help us clean up the current mess. Think we can get away with a short-term contract?”
“Should be easy enough. It’s taking on permanent staff that rings alarm bells.” She pushed the CDs over to him. “And start with these.”
* * * * *
He broached the subject after supper. “If it’s not your field, no problem. But even if it’s not your field, you’d probably be better than what we’ve had to put up with for the last couple of years.”
John picked up the CDs. “I’ll have to think about it. But I’ll take a look at these now for you, Charles. It might be something simple.”
It was something simple ‑‑ for an expert. John gave him back the CDs half an hour later, along with two new ones. “A bit of data corruption that made it impossible to open the files in the programme, but it was easy enough to get in and extract the data with the right tools. You’ve still lost a few records, but at least this should make life easier. You won’t have to re-enter it all by hand.”
“Thanks. And I should have said ‑‑ but the data is confidential.”
John stared at him. “Of course.”
Damn. Now he’d offended the man. “Sorry. I know you know better. I’m just too used to having to deal with bright young things who don’t understand that the Data Protection Act applies to them.”
“You really do need someone to come in and set things up properly, don’t you? Well, as long as you don’t require party loyalty…”
A vision of having working computers danced in front of him. He could have hugged John. “No. As long as you don’t mind being exposed to political chit-chat. And as long as you think you can get it done without interfering in your real job.”
“I’ll let you know if my hours pick up again. Hell, if things are this bad in your office, I can probably get something useful done in a couple of weekends.”
* * * * *
As it turned out, John made a noticeable difference on his very first day. He started with an audit of the computers. After the first computer turned out to have an extensive collection of porn and an even more extensive collection of spyware, he gave its hapless owner a detailed lecture on computer security. Charles and Mary ordered everyone else to listen, and then set him loose on the rest of the computers.
He worked his way through them, his progress around the office suite being trackable by a monologue that was remarkable for the stinging contempt displayed while being almost entirely profanity free.
“Dear god, he’s an arrogant sod, isn’t he?” Trevor said some hours later, as John finally left.
“At least he’s got something to be arrogant about.” Mary dropped the CDs on Trevor’s keyboard. “The files you fucked up, Trevor. Mostly fixed. Finish putting the data back in, please.” She turned to Charles. “That was quite impressive, even if he is an arrogant sod. Where’d you dig him up? Friend of a friend?”
“Can’t imagine him having friends,” Trevor muttered. “A right cold bastard, that one.”
Not cold when you got to know him, but John could certainly give that impression on first contact. “He’s actually one of my lodgers. So I’ll get to listen to a repeat tonight at dinner.” Probably with added invective about people too busy dreaming about changing the world to notice what was going on in their own office.
“Well, if you can stand having to listen to him at work as well as at home, I say we give him a three-month contract,” Mary said. “He got a lot of crap cleaned off that we didn’t even know was there, and I know my machine is working more smoothly.” She petted her monitor. “I didn’t install that rubbish, so someone else has been using my machine. We need someone like him, and a short-term contract is better than nothing.”
“Agreed.”
Though Charles could think of another use for John: office iconoclast.
Abrasive ‑‑ yes. Willing to stand by his own beliefs, once he felt safe enough to say anything personal at all ‑‑ yes. He’d demonstrated both this day, and Charles had watched the shock and sometimes outrage spread as people discovered that it wasn’t safe to assume that John shared their cherished assumptions about the world.
This place was a house of mirrors; everyone thinking the same way, everyone reflecting the same opinion. Having someone like John around to smash the occasional mirror would be no bad thing.
Chapter Five
The one worry Charles had about employing John was that seeing him at home and at work might be too much, even with it being only a part-time contract. After two weeks he realised that he had an entirely different problem to the one he’d been expecting. Rather than being turned off by overexposure to John, he was turned on.
Not least because the extra time hadn’t made John any less of a mystery. It wasn’t that he refused to talk to people. But there was always that reserve there, the feeling that there was something going on behind a façade put up for the general public to see. Somehow John always slid away from any questioning about himself. Charles was quite convinced that the only reason he’d volunteered the information about being gay was because he’d preferred to get any unpleasantness about it over and done with before committing himself to a new house.
But it was quite useful to know that much, given how Charles was starting to feel about him. He wanted to fuck the man, and quite badly so.
It wasn’t just the looks. John had a nice face, and a very pert arse that was displayed to perfection when he was crawling around under a desk, as several people had already commented on. When John was out of earshot, of course. Nobody wanted to risk a dissection of their personal appearance in return.
And he had a quite, quite gorgeous smile when he could be persuaded to do so, which wasn’t nearly often enough for Charles’s liking.
But more than that, Charles had a weakness for arrogant intelligence all tightly wrapped up in black ‑‑ it was so much fun unwrapping it and delving the mystery. He just wasn’t sure how to go about seducing the current example in his possession. Being rejected didn’t normally bother him, but it was a bit different when he still had to face the non-conquest at breakfast the following morning. So a little gentle courtship seemed in order, rather than an upfront, “Fancy a fuck, then?”