Marshall: Mayfair Model Series

by Castle, Claire

  “Hey, Jess. You are the cutest. Yes, you are.” I smiled, picking her up so her legs were in midair as she stared at me. Then she licked my nose. I checked the time and it was only 6:30 a.m. Jess kept licking me, and I cuddled her over my shoulder and rubbed her back.

  Sensing more movement, I looked up at the door to see Marshall standing there. I blushed, which I couldn’t remember doing since school when I’d gotten caught peeking in the boys change room. Hoping he hadn’t heard me earlier, I played it cool. “Morning.”

  He had a cup in his hand, which I presumed was his own. “Want some coffee?” he said, walking closer. God, I hoped he couldn’t smell sex in the room. He smiled, almost cautiously.

  “Oh, yes, please.” I smiled at him. “Thank you.” He handed me the cup and I took a sip, moaning with enjoyment.

  Marshall pushed his hand through his beautiful hair. It was a little wet, but obviously, just washed. “Ah, it’s early so I was thinking we could go for a walk? And take Jess? I should go undetected.” He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “We might have to go a bit slow, but I’ve got more strength than I had before. And don’t forget, I have the handy cane.”

  I couldn’t deny I was surprised, but I went with it. “Yes, great idea. I’ll pop in the shower and get ready, then we can go. Thanks for the coffee.” He left and then I pulled the sheet off the bed. I knew a housekeeper came in, but I didn’t feel right about her cleaning my sheets, so I put them in the laundry basket and decided I’d wash them as soon as we were back.

  After showering and getting dressed, I went out to see Marshall and Jess. “Let’s go, guys.” Looking at Marshall, I said, “Sure you’re okay to do this? Just let me know if it’s too much.”

  He looked up at me with such an intense stare, and I didn’t know what to make of it. “Thank you. Thank you, Stuart. I will.”

  11

  MARSHALL

  So many thoughts passed through me as I stared at Stuart: the way he’d given me exactly what I needed last night, but even how he’s been taking care of me. He might have propelled himself in at the beginning, but I was almost getting used to his presence. Dare I say, I’d miss him when our lives went back to normal?

  “Earth to Marshall,” I heard Stuart say and looked up to see him and Jess standing at the door. We strolled down the street just as the sun was rising in the distance. I’d managed to get down the stairs much easier than the last time I’d made the trip. Or attempted to.

  The air was crisp as we walked. Stuart held on to Jess’s lead and chatted. “It’s so beautiful at this time of the morning. Don’t you agree? Not that I’m up this early most of the time.” He looked over and smiled at me. His hand lifted and for a split second, I wondered if he was going to grab mine, but he only put his in his pocket.

  I panicked for a moment and scanned the area. No one was about. “Yes, it’s breathtaking,” I replied. At this rate I was going to have a heart attack. I took a deep breath.

  “So, ah, did you sleep, okay?” he said.

  God, I was terrible at small talk, especially with someone like Stuart, who I was becoming more and more attracted to as time went on. I was mostly used to work chat and conversations not lasting longer than a few minutes. I let out a huff. “I mean …” And then I realized that I’d never asked him a thing about his own welfare. Saving me from my fumbling words, he replied—

  “Yes, it was okay.” We walked in silence as Jess sniffed and peed and then pooped.

  At the park, we sat together on a bench. A few early risers walked or jogged around the path, and the sounds of traffic started to echo around us. I kept my focus straight ahead, which seemed to make it easier to talk. I’d never spoken so much in my life. “My mum, we’re not really close, in a close ‘mother and son way,’ but more for keeping up appearances. She got me into modelling and feels I should be seen to be the perfect gentleman in the spotlight.”

  I cleared my throat before continuing, “While she cares in her own way, I guess, and her heart is in the right place, in her eyes, I can’t confide in her about anything. On the surface, she wants to tell her friends that we have a perfect mother-and-son relationship, but it’s all for show. I’m petrified of what she’d say if I told her I’m gay. I’ve always shied away from that topic and figured I’d tell her one day, but that ‘one day’ is some distance away and I’m not entirely sure of when.” Leaning back, I stretched my leg out and then let my arm fall behind Stuart’s back.

  He put his hand on my thigh, and while it was risky, I tried not to think about it. It could be construed in many ways. And who was going to notice us at 7:00 a.m.?

  “And,” he paused, “the girlfriend she asked about?” Stuart glanced over at me, like he was scared to even talk to me. That wasn’t what I wanted. Not at all.

  “Yeah, well, when I get any inkling that she’s going to set me up with someone, I have Brenna find me another woman. But”—I looked at him—“I always break it off after a short time.” I stopped talking, having a hard time speaking. My throat seemed to constrict.

  Stuart rubbed my leg, letting me know he was there, then he picked up Jess. He didn’t coerce me to speak either. I’d begun to realize that while he talked a lot at times, he was also a great listener.

  For some reason, I felt the need to keep going—to confide some more. “I’ve never, uh, had sex with any of them. Some kisses, which I hated, but I’m a model. I have to be straight, right?” I asked him, almost looking for permission or reassurance. Of course, Stuart being Stuart, he wouldn’t go that far. Most people would just agree with anything I said.

  “Well, I can’t tell you what to do. Only you will know when you’re ready to come out.” He made cutesy noises to Jess before continuing, “As for the modelling world, you’d know that better than me.” He stood up and handed me Jess’s lead, then proceeded to strut up the path and back to me. “How is my model walk, then? Do I have potential?”

  His body moved with such grace, I was mesmerized. I stared at him as he walked away and then back towards me. It was like a pocket watch had been placed in front of me and I was hypnotized: the movement of his hips, the sway of his body.

  I looked up as he sat down again. “Well, you are pretty,” I hedged.

  “Hey, I’m rugged,” he said, laughing and then elbowed me. “Fine then, no Paris runways for me, I guess.”

  “You can strut down a runway for me, anytime,” I said enthusiastically. “Anytime.” I was so close to hugging him, but I couldn’t. “Fuck, I suck,” I said to myself.

  “Well, no, I haven’t experienced that yet,” he said and winked.

  Shit I’d said it out loud. “Once your runway walk improves,” I quipped back.

  12

  STUART

  A few days had passed since our morning chat at the park. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee had woken me up and was just what I needed, although for a moment I was a bit disoriented of my whereabouts. Had Jamieson come home early? No, I was at Marshall’s … but he never made coffee, well, except for the other morning. Maybe the tables had turned, though I highly doubted it. I plodded out to the kitchen in only my pyjama pants to see what was happening. “Marshall?” His ankle was almost good enough where he could walk on it without the cane, but he rarely got up before I did.

  And I walked in to find a woman making coffee at the Keurig machine. Shit, I didn’t have a weapon. No, that wasn’t right either. She hadn’t broken in, obviously. I could scream at the top of my lungs. Lord knows, I’d done that before.

  “How can I help you?” I asked, trying to be polite. A beautiful woman with kind eyes and wavy red hair turned towards me, completely startled, that she let out a scream and all her coffee flew out of the cup and onto the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry. So sorry,” I said, running over to her and grabbing a cloth from the sink to wipe up the mess. “You aren’t burned, are you?”

  “No. No, I don’t think so.” She attempted to wipe some spots off her top. “Ah, I’m Brenna.” She put her
hand out. “And you?”

  I straightened then answered, “Oh, oh, I’m Stuart” and held my hand out to her. “Nice tae meet you. Better than the phone calls. Let me make more coffee and we can chat.” I made two cups and we sat at the kitchen table.”

  “How’s Marshall?” she asked anxiously. “I just got back into the city and came right over.”

  “Oh, I think he’s still sleeping. But his ankle’s better.” Jess trotted out then and plopped down at my feet. “Hey,” I patted her, looking back up at Brenna. “I kind of just invited myself to stay with him the first day I came to walk Jess when you said the owner would be here.”

  “And,” she stuttered. “And he just let you?”

  “Well, I can be persuasive. But I couldn’t leave him alone when he was injured.” I wasn’t blaming her or anything. “I kind of didn’t give him much choice. Not sure what his version of the story will be. Marshall is not good at being a patient or staying home,” I added, then took a sip of my coffee.

  “Oh, don’t I know it. One time our flight was delayed eight hours and he was almost climbing the walls.” She laughed. “He let you stay,” she said, almost sounding in awe. “Thanks, though, for doing so.” She rubbed the handle of her cup and looked down and then back up at me, as if debating whether to tell me something or not.

  Marshall walked in then, looking like he hadn’t slept well. I jumped out of my seat and walked over to the coffee machine. If I’d learned one thing these past days, it was that Marshall needed coffee to function or to even be slightly less grumpy.

  He pushed his hands through his hair and sat down. Jess ran over to him and tried to jump onto his lap. When she failed, Marshall picked her up. He still hadn’t said anything when I brought the coffee over and placed it in front of him.

  Grunting, he took a sip and let out a big breath. Then he looked around and finally noticed Brenna was there. “Oh, hey. Ah, how are you?” He blinked like an owl a few times and pointed to his foot. “My ankle’s pretty much better. So remind me again my next gig. I’m ready to get back in the saddle.”

  My face fell, listening to this conversation. Of course I knew he’d go back to work, but I’d kind of enjoyed hanging out with his moody, grumpy self. All business as usual again. I quickly sipped my coffee and didn’t let my sadness show.

  “We’ve got you in New York for Fashion Week and then you’ll go to Colorado to do the men’s winter collection.” She put her cup down and smiled. “I’m so glad you’re back to normal,” she said and reached over to hug him. “And just to ruin the moment,” she added, “back in time for your mum’s gala.”

  Leaning his head back, he crossed his arms over his chest. His forehead was creased. He was not impressed. “Oh yeah, that.” Then he looked straight at me. The last time he’d given me that look was in my bedroom when we first hooked up. I had no idea why, so I picked up the cups to take them back to the kitchen.

  “Hey, want to come with me?” he asked. I assumed he meant Brenna. No way could he mean me. But what the heck, like I would turn that down.

  “Sure,” I piped up at the same time Brenna spoke.

  “Not sure that’s a good idea,” she said, and when I turned around, she was glaring at Marshall.

  “Why not?” He sighed and his voice got more stern. “It’s not a big deal.”

  She started listing things off as she raised her fingers. “Your mother? The media and social elite? Questions about your relationship?”

  He pushed his chair out and stood up. “I know, you’re right.” He combed his fingers through his hair and stomped back through to his bedroom, Jess following closely.

  “Ah, I’ll just go see how he is.” I left the kitchen, padded down the hallway, then knocked on Marshall’s bedroom door. “Hey, can I come in?”

  “Yes, the door’s open,” he said tersely. He was lying stretched out on the bed with both hands over his face. Jess was curled up on the bed by his side.

  “Ah, do you want to talk about it?” I sat down beside his legs.

  “Maybe it’s a stupid move, and Brenna is right, but I’m sick of it.” He moved to sit up beside me, leaning his arms on his knees.

  I rubbed his back and then Jess squeezed in between the both of us. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do.” I smiled. “I doubt anyone can, but thanks for inviting me. Where’s your phone?”

  He pointed to the nightstand. “Why?”

  “I’ve added my phone number. You’ll find it under ‘Stuart Little.’” I snickered. “Now, I’m adding yours to mine so you can call me whenever.”

  “What’ll you make my name?” he asked, sounding anxious, maybe thinking I’d put his real name.

  “I’ll think of some nickname for you and add you to my address book. Any ideas? Maybe Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs?” I nudged him and smiled.

  “Yeah, sounds about right.” He watched me as I added the numbers.

  “I know, right? But no midnight booty calls,” I said and winked.

  He grinned. “But 1:00 a.m. is okay?”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder for a moment. “Now, let me pack up and get home, and you can iron out your plans with Brenna, okay?” Marshall grabbed my arm as I stood up.

  “Thanks—” he said, pulling me to stand between his legs. I stayed there, just looking out his window as he held me. “For everything. For listening and, though you didn’t give me much of a choice, for staying to look after me.”

  “Anytime.” I kissed his head and went through to the bathroom to get freshened up. Usually, I would give him some sassy remark in response, but now didn’t seem to be the time.

  I gathered my things and left to go home. Jamieson was still away so I decided to unpack and get some wash done. Then I needed to go to the art store and pick up the watercolour paper I’d forgotten about.

  That was only a week or so ago, and yet in some ways it felt like a different lifetime. “Ah, Gareth,” I said, hugging him. “I’m so sorry for the delay.”

  “Ah, a week delay. Whatever did you get up to?” he asked.

  “Och, a little bit of everything. I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Aye, right. And I’m the Queen of England.” He laughed. “It’s never stopped you before.”

  “Very funny. Now give me the papers, please.” I took the proffered bag and went home. Getting everything back in order after my impromptu getaway took most of the day.

  * * *

  A week later, I sent a text to Damien, asking if he wanted to come over and hang out that night. He replied that he would love to catch up. I went to the market and bought some hummus and naan bread for the night along with a few other groceries for the next few days.

  I traipsed back home, put all of the food away then collapsed on the couch. My phone buzzed with a text, and I took it out of my back pocket, assuming it would be Damien, but secretly hoping it was Marshall.

  Instead, it was Jamieson.

  Jamieson: Hey, what’s happening? How is Mr. Broody?

  I’d given him a little bit of information around the time I warned him not to tell anyone his identity.

  Me: How would I know? I haven’t seen him.

  Jamieson: Why not?

  Me: I haven’t heard from him.

  I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.

  Me: I don’t even know what’s going on with us, so it’s not a big deal.

  Even as I typed that out, I knew it wasn’t true. Although it had been awhile since I’d left Marshall’s place and hadn’t heard anything from him, I didn’t think he would take this long to get in touch. Then again, what did I know.

  Jamieson: Well, got to get on the next flight. Talk soon.

  Me: Bye.

  I stared at the phone. In my own stubbornness, I hadn’t even tested our numbers out, and I wasn’t going to text him first. I wasn’t going to text first. The ball was in his court, literally. I knew he’d be leaving for his next job tomorrow since Brenna called and asked me to start the w
alks again. Since when did I get so hung up on some grumpy guy?

  But I knew that wasn’t the real Marshall. Spending time just the two of us, I’d gotten to witness him open up and be his true self. He could even be kind of funny sometimes. I shook those thoughts from my head when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in, Damien—” I whisked the door open and before me stood Marshall, not Damien. “Whaaa … uh, hey, what are you doing here?” I tried to ask. “Wait. What about Jess?” Trust me to think of that first.

  He rushed through the door then closed and locked it. “I don’t have long. My flight to New York is in a couple of hours.” He gave me a quick kiss. “You’re really sweet to think of Jess, but of course, she’s okay until you go to walk her.” Then he put both hands on my face and kissed me fervently. I moved closer into him, not able to help myself. Marshall had a power over me that I couldn’t attempt to explain.

  We were interrupted by a knock at the door. “Shit, that must be Damien. You’ll have to climb out the fire escape. Quick.” I yelled loudly to Damien, “Just a minute. I’m naked.”

  “Oh, darling, I’ve seen you in your birthday suit many times,” he responded.

  Marshall’s eyes grew wide and he looked like he was about to question Damien’s comment. I covered his mouth and pulled him through to my room. “You’ve got three minutes to do or say whatever you had planned. Although if he wasn’t at the door, know that I’d be asking why you hadn’t texted and just showed up here.”

  “I panicked, okay, and I suck at technology. Please forgive me. I’ve missed you.” He put his hands together, pleading, and then he kissed me again. “I needed to taste you, and to ask, ah, can I see you when I get back?”