Don't... (19 page)

He was better off away from this, away from me. Halfway to the reception, I stopped and pulled out my phone. I didn’t really notice I’d thumbed Jan’s number until I looked down. I hadn’t expected him to call, but it still hurt seeing no messages. This wasn’t Gray denying contact to facilitate a contract. This was Jan. Unwritten, untouchable, and with every fucking right in the world to walk away hating my ass.

I’d washed my hands before I even registered I was drying them, and, heading on past reception, I threw the phone up the wall and watched it shatter on top of a tool box. Sue poked her head out of reception, looked at me, then shut the door without a word.
Fucking peachy.
Voices came from the dining lounge and I made my way through a mass of lockers and coats into the back. Laughter came, and I tensed. Laughter was worse.

“You’re all in the wrong fucking place for the job centre,” I said, leaning against the doorframe and watching the chaos going on inside. Most were huddled around, their backs to me, making it difficult to see just what they were hiding. Sam glanced over, smiling, yet when he saw me, it curled into a sneer and he mumbled something to Alex.

“Jack.” Steve broke from the huddle and came over with this huge-ass grin on his face. “We’re just wondering if the likes of Nostradamus predicted this before he died.”

I raised a brow and it seemed to command a parting of the huddled crowd. They had been a barrier to a table stocked to obese levels with cakes and pastries, and for a change the guys’ hands were covered in a mixture of cream, jam, custard, and this sugar grit that donutted their fingers.

Steve flashed his eyes at me. “Sam’s apology for being such a dick over the last few weeks.”

Bacon sandwich in hand, Sam came over, held it out, and offered it to me. “Sue’s got dibs on the egg muffin and the custard slices.” He grinned. “All twelve, apparently, so I’d get in quick before they all go.”

A long look at the sandwich, I glanced up at Sam. “Fucking peachy,” I said, and turned away, leaving Sam and Steve standing there. “I’ll start the client list my fucking self, shall I?”

The merry chatter stopped, and I managed to just make it past the lockers before Steve pulled me to a halt.

“We’ve been handling that client list without you for the past week or so, Jack. Those guys have also been in since eight this morning; shall we go take a look at your attendance rate?”

I glanced down at the hand pulling my coverall sleeve, and Steve let go. “You only have to say if things are getting too much, Steve. Floor managers are ten-a-penny these days.”

Steve took a step back and it took that distancing for me to realise my screw-up.

“Go chase those parts for the Mustang job, Jack. I’ll bring you a coffee in a few minutes. Mike can carry on covering for you this morning.”

“With the welding?” I looked back toward the garage area to see Mike talking to Alex.

“Him and Alex hit it off pretty well, so I paired them up yesterday.” Steve was looking too. “You make a lousy tutor sometimes, Jack. You know that, right?” and Steve headed off down the hall without looking at me.

“Tell Sam he’s to clean up that mess in there; then I want him in the office.”

“Jack,” he sounded real tired as he stopped and glanced back, “we’re busy, real busy. Take that time upstairs to get your head out of your ass. Use me as a whipping boy if you want, just leave my mechanics alone, okay?”

“They’re not your mechanics, Steve. And stop protecting Sam,” I said, fumbling in my pocket for the office keys, “I’m sorry, and I owe you several fucking years of beers for my shit attitude today, and over the past week now you mention it. Just don’t get involved in his shit this time.”

Steve flicked me a frown, and I left him standing there knowing Sam would get the message. Up in the office, an e-mail was there waiting to let me know the parts were finally available for the Mustang. I replied saying thanks, almost tempted to add a little “’bout fucking time” comment, but my mouth had run away enough on its own lately, so I kept it to the bare minimum. My snail mail had piled up, and I was busy into sorting the trash from the usual when a knock came at the door.

I didn’t bother replying and sure enough a few seconds later Sam came in holding a coffee. “Steve told me to give you this.” He put it on the coaster sitting close to my trash pile.

“I don’t want you here, Sam, and certainly don’t want your fucking coffee.” I didn’t even bother looking at him. “I’ll see that you’re paid until the end of the month, with an average of the bonuses my other apprentices earn, and Sue will sort out your P45. But as far as I’m concerned, I want you to get your coat, clear your locker, then get the fuck off my property.”

Silence answered me as I slipped the trash pile in the shredding tray.

“I went to Liam’s last night after your mates chased me away from yours last night,” said Sam, and I glanced up. Fuck. Sam had come into contact with security? Why the hell hadn’t I gone over their bloody report? But Sam was shrugging. “It was a shock, Jack. Y’know, having him come on to me last night.”

“I’m not a counsellor, Sam. And I’m certainly not a stress release point for your personal issues.”

“Then I thought afterwards... you must have felt the same, when I kissed you.”

I made a point of looking at my watch. I could be a bastard; I knew that. Sam shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Jack. With what I feel. I—ah.” Hands went to his head and he fought back tears. “You should know what this feels like. You should know it fucks with your head and stupid—” Tears spilled and he wiped them on his coveralls. “You do stupid bloody things.”

I was my old man looking at me; only my old man was a far better man than I was. I couldn’t deal with this. I threw the paperwork on the table and let a frustrated breath out as I leaned back into the chair. “Sam—”

“Please.” He stopped pacing his little space and groaned as he looked at me. “Just please, Jack, listen.”

I rubbed at my eyes and told him to be quiet. “Sam, I can’t do this now. I have...” I looked at him and sighed. “Just get my windows fixed, stay out of my personal fucking life, and we’ll forget this conversation took place so long as you keep your head down. I’ll review you in a month.”

“Jack—”

“You’re a damn fine apprentice with huge potential in this trade.” I should have taken some painkillers this morning. “But you seriously lack that level of respect for your superiors that will carry you through it. I—”

“The cakes were a stupid thing, I know that now. But it was the only way I knew how to say sorry. You know, without actually saying sorry.” Tears still spilled, showing I wasn’t the only one getting to him. The kid had serious issues going on. “I’m always saying sorry, I’m sick of hearing it. I wanted you to see I could learn from what I’ve done. But when I saw you this morning, I told Alex nothing would be sweet enough, that I’d taken it too far last night.”

“Danish Pastry.”

“Huh?”

I threw Sam a roll of paper I kept up here to clear off the grease. “It’s what I like, and you didn’t fucking have any.”

“Seriously?” said Sam, tearing off a strip and putting the roll back on my desk. He attempted a smile but the hurt was still burying any bravado.

“You mention one sodding thing about fairy cakes and I’ll throw your ass out of here myself,” I said before he could get it in.

“Wouldn’t,” he said, although a thousand and one gay sexual innuendoes were helping to organize his internal battle.

“Because you’re on probation, right?” I warned.

“Because I’m on probation.” He wiped at the corners of his eyes with his fingertips and managed a chuckle. “And when I’m not on probation, boss?”

“Assuming you make it.”

“Assuming I make it,” he added, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“I’ve been gay longer than you’ve been bi, Sam. And I bet you’ll blush a hell of a lot quicker than me if we pot-shot each other in front of the lads.”

His mouth dropped and he was speechless. For all of one second. “Y-you know what I’ve said, it’s confidential, right?”

“You only just get that, Sam?” Getting up, I went over to the door, keeping my eyes on him as I pulled it open. “Can I have some peace now?”

Sam shifted to leave, but I felt the door buffet slightly as someone else came in, blocking his exit.

“Downstairs,” Steve said over to Sam. Sam didn’t move for a minute, and something seemed to pass between the two of them. I’d seen it often enough from my old man. Sam was lucky to have a reluctant foster father glance off Steve. Head down, Sam eased his way through us, and I think I caught on then that maybe Steve did have a better way with him than I ever would.

“You should have told me,” said Steve when Sam had gone downstairs.

Running a hand through my hair, I went back over to my desk and grabbed my coffee. “It’s sorted now. But it is his final warning, Steve. Anything else—”

“He kissed you?”

“I’m more bothered about my windows.”

“But he made a pass at you?” Steve was scowling. “I’ll floor the little prick.” I stopped Steve before he could leave.

“It’s sorted. Crossed wires, teenage strops, and lack of decent parental guidance, ergo, mine.”

“You’re not about to take up family life any time soon, then?”

“More ways than one,” I muttered under my breath.

“And you’re really gonna trust him to get your windows sorted?”

I thought about it for all of two seconds as I looked at Steve. “I’ll make a few calls.”

Steve nodded. “Give me the satisfaction of seeing his face with the bill, though, yeah?”

“Insurance should cover it.” I half-smiled. “But I didn’t say that.”

“Never heard a word.”

“Jack.” Sue popped her head around the door as Steve chuckled. “You have visitors.”

I nodded thanks, then got Steve’s attention before he could leave. “I’m sorry about earlier. You didn’t deserve that.”

Steve nodded. “Forget it,” he said with a wink, “your round, though, yeah. Several years, if I remember right.”

“Aren’t you old enough yet for your short-term memory to start playing tricks on you? Maybe let you forget the ‘several year’ bit?”

“Not where beer’s concerned,” said Steve, and he disappeared after Sue.

Typical
, I thought, even managing a smile. After clearing up my desk, I checked the appointments to see whom I’d booked in. I had an appointment with my father’s accountant. I always went with my old man when it came to finance. I had the savvy to balance the books, but external insight was priceless. Keith was due at ten thirty, and he had a habit of arriving early.

Hearing a knock on my door, I said come as I grabbed my account books from the safe.

“Business as usual?”

Looking back, I nearly dropped the file seeing Jan.

“What?” Jan? My files went on my table, I think, I didn’t really look to see.

Sue had followed Jan in, smiling at me with every missed signal going. “Your ten thirty has just called and cancelled, Jack. He’s rebooked for Tuesday, same time. I checked your diary and you’re clear, so I’ve pencilled him in. I’ll... I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”

I think I caught that, some of it anyway. Sue stepped aside to allow a second man to come in, then she disappeared, softly closing the door behind her, and unease settled further in the pit of my stomach seeing Gray go and rest against my filing cabinet, not far from Jan.

Just what the hell was going on here?

Jan had gone casual, tight blue jeans, jumper, every part looking relaxed and calm. My instinct was to go over, I even started, but Gray gave a shake of head that put me off the chessboard in a cast until he allowed otherwise. Coming off anyone else, I’d have floored them. But Gray, I’d learned long ago he wasn’t exactly your typical Dom off the street.

“What?” I looked between them both. “Why are you...” I rested on Jan. “Why are you here?”

Jan glanced at Gray. “I spoke to him this morning,” said Jan matter-of-factly.

“Gray?” This went over my head. “Why the hell would you talk to—?”

“Quiet,” said Gray. No hardness to his voice, just quiet.

“You scare the hell out of me, Jack.”

The weight of what Jan said silenced me, and I was left barely able to look at Jan let alone talk.

“But I can’t
not
have you in my life.”

Able to breathe a little, I inched a little closer. Gray levelled a finger on my chest, stopping me, and I backed off. Very fucking carefully.

“Like I said,” said Jan, “I spoke to Gray.” Reaching to his back pocket, Jan pulled out a rolled up manila coloured envelope. Roughly A4 sized, it landed with a thud on the desk. “Open it, read it, sign it.”

I frowned at Jan, then Gray. “What the hell
is
this?”

“Contract.” Jan’s voice was flat. “I don’t trust you enough to warm my bed as a lover, Jack, or even as a contracted sub.”

“What?”

“You earn that privilege, Jack. And you earn it as a contracted Master’s sub training a Dom.” Gray was leaning against my filing cabinet. “As such, if you question a Dom again, I’m asking Jan to step outside of this office. Clear?”

“He’s not a Dom. How the hell did you clear this shit with the Masters for starters?” I said to Gray.

Gray raised a brow. “You take a step back and think hard over why, Jack.”

I didn’t understand, not a fucking word. Then to Jan. “I didn’t fall for a fucking Dom.”

“Then we’re through,” said Jan, and he headed for the door.

Jesus, no
. I couldn’t see him walk out of my life. “Wait.” I looked at Gray as Jan stopped.

“Something you want to say?” said Jan as he came back over.

Part of me was shaking. None of it in any good ways. “What conditions?”

“What conditions, whom.” Jan tilted his ear in my direction and waited.

It was awkward, even childish in my eyes calling him “Sir”. I barely managed it with Gray, and that was only ever in private. It was never forced outside of a scene with me.

“I’m not just being trained by him, Jack,” Jan said evenly, “you’re under full contract assessment. That means if I pass, you’re my permanent sub.”