Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (14 page)

“I know. I can’t do anything about it now, so it’ll have to wait till I get into the office. I’ll check all the employee files, see what I can come up with.” He sighed heavily. “I just hate the thought it’s someone I know. I guess Leslie is right. I have been a bit lackadaisical with my drafts. I’ll have to dispose of them more securely,” he said gloomily.

Brook leaned over and kissed him. “Check your files first and then we’ll see where we get to. I’m here to help, whatever you need.”

Lenny felt better just for that comment. Doing this together was far better than alone. Minutes later they were sitting down with a plate of bacon and eggs, toast and fresh, heart-warming coffee. Lenny made his into a sandwich and raised his eyebrows at Brook’s small frown.

“What? I’m making a toastie.” He busied himself breaking the yolk, before he placed the last slice of bread on top, sighing in satisfaction as it bled yellow onto his plate. He picked up one half of his toastie and dipped it in the mess.

Brook pursed his lips with an adorable huff of breath. Lenny debated jumping his bones at the table there and then. The sandwich won out. He was hungry too. The asparagus tips and tiny biscuits did nothing last night to stave off the hunger he’d had, and which had escalated now he had the frying bacon smell in his nostrils.

His lover nodded at him. “I’ve noticed that you make everything into a sandwich. Give you steak and chips and it ends up between two slices of bread. Chicken? You make a sandwich, with mayonnaise. Even the ribs I did that one night, you picked clean and shoved in a bread roll. What is it with you and bread?”

Lenny munched his toastie happily. “Comfort food, I guess. It makes me feel good. What’s with you using a knife and fork all the time? Waste of good cutlery.”

He grinned at Brook’s snort and indignant rejoinder. “My parents taught me to eat with them, you barbarian.” His soft, indulgent smile was like an emotion-coated arrow that lodged straight in Lenny’s chest.

Crap. This guy is really doing things to me.

Lenny tried to deflect those rising feelings of
whatever the fuck it was
. “Talking of parents, I’ve told you about my misguided childhood and lack of family members to complicate my life. No blood-sucking commercial events like birthdays and Father’s Day to worry about. How about your folks? You haven’t told me much about them.” He popped the last morsel of sandwich in his mouth and started on the other one.

Brook frowned slightly. “Don’t be so damn flippant about your family, babe.”

Lenny’s eyes widened and he stopped chewing and looked at Brook.

Did he really say that?

Brook carried on evenly. “You were given a raw deal by your family and I’m really sorry you had to go through it. But I know you still hurt. I see it every time you see the news on the telly about kids being thrown out of their homes, or being abused, and the money you give to all those charities, the fact you created Laverne to have some control over who you are, and fuck your father who tried to make you into something you weren’t. Please don’t ever feel you have to hide that from me. I care too much about you for that.”

Lenny was still staring at him, gob-smacked, food still in his mouth in what he imagined was a very unattractive sight. His first instinct was to rise to the challenge and tell Brook it was
his
life,
his
story and he’d tell it any way he fucking pleased. Then he saw the nervous tic in Brook’s jaw, the white-knuckled fingers, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He also repeated Brook’s last words in his brain and that little arrow twitched yet again.

I care too much about you for that.

So instead Lenny swallowed his half-masticated food and took a slurp of coffee. He cleared his throat. “Point taken. So is this where I get to hear about your family then?”

The flash of relief that shot across Brook’s face like that same arrow being slung from a bow was all he needed to know. Lenny imagined his boyfriend may have thought he’d overstepped the mark and upset him

“Unlike yours, my family are loving and supportive. Always have been and I guess they always will be.” Brook toyed with his last piece of bacon, sweeping it round the plate abstractedly.

“And this is why you’ve never told me about them before,” Lenny said softly. “Because you don’t want to rub salt in my old wounds?”

Brook nodded uneasily. “I guess so. It didn’t feel right telling you about my happy childhood when you had such a crappy one.”

Lenny got up and walked over to Brook, motioning him to stand up. Once they were standing together facing each other, he reached out and framed Brook’s face. “Love, you give me the happy times now,” he whispered as he brushed a soft kiss to Brook’s lips. “And I don’t mean
those
types of happy times. Although those are good too, of course.”

Brook’s mouth curved in a slow, sexy smile. “Yeah? Want one of those right now?”

Lenny grinned as he reached down into Brook’s briefs and took his semi-hard cock in his hand. “You know, I think I might.”

Chapter 10

Later that morning, lying on his bed and idly tracing whorls in Brook’s sweaty, matted chest hair, Lenny raised himself on one elbow and tried to ignore the discomfort in his recently pounded arse.

“So, you still owe me a story about your folks. Tell me.”

Brook shifted on the pillows and tucked his hands behind his head. The crumpled sheet lay gathered around his waist. “Mum’s a translator with the UN here in London. Dad—well, my dad is a diplomat here. He works at the Kenyan High Commission. He’s a financial attaché actually.” He sounded vaguely embarrassed.

Lenny sat up in awe. “Get out of here, really? I had no idea you had such a highbrow parentage.”

Brook shrugged. “Dad’s Kenyan born, Mum is Jamaican.” He laughed. “Dad always says he’s descended from the Masai tribe, a couple of times removed though. We’re still not sure if that’s true or what he wants to believe. He loves to think he’s descended from a great warrior nation.” He chuffed softly in amusement.

Lenny was fascinated. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

Brook was quiet for a while. Lenny kept himself busy caressing the curve of Brook’s ribs and waiting for his answer.

“Four. Two sisters. Two brothers. They’re scattered all over the world. I’m the middle son.”

Lenny couldn’t help the pang that leapt into his chest and stomach at those words. He remembered sunny days of laughter and fun with his little sisters at the farm. Jane had been eleven when Lenny had been thrown out, and Patrice only eight. He’d been their big brother, the one they’d looked up to and adored. Until his father had tainted their young minds with his lies. And then they’d died and there’d been no way to get any of it back when he was ready.

He cleared his throat. “That’s one big family. Are you close to them all?”

Brook nodded and his hand came out and stroked Lenny’s hair gently. “Yes. Me and my dad in particular. He jets all over the world but always has time to send me a text, or a picture from wherever he is. He calls me once a week without fail. Mum too. So yes, we’re close.”

Lenny sat up, pulling the covers around his waist as he nodded. “I’m glad you have that.”

There was silence for a while then Brook spoke. “You were incredible last night. Laverne, I mean. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was—different.”

Lenny’s bones chilled.

What the hell did ‘different’ mean?

“Well, yeah, I imagine you don’t have that many boyfriends who dress up as a woman and parade themselves on a catwalk,” he said jokingly, fingers poking nervously at the swirls in the duvet. “I mean what would the odds be?”

Deep brown eyes regarded him steadily and Lenny plucked at the covers more frantically than before. “Let’s face it, Laverne and I are pretty awesome together, and I doubt there’s another one out there like me.” He laughed nervously.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I need this guy to accept me so badly?

Brook reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from Lenny’s face. “Stop it,” he instructed. “By different I meant pretty fabulous. You rocked that show, had those people eating out of your hands, and they loved you. They loved Laverne. It was astonishing to see. And yes,” he smiled cheekily. “I doubt there are too many people out there who can say their
boyfriend,”
Lenny noticed the stress on that word and was heartened, “dresses up like you do. It’s not something I ever thought I’d hear myself say, but I guess it’s something I need to get used to if we intend being together.”

Lenny lost his breath at those last words. They were telling ones, words that indicated that perhaps being Laverne and Lenny might be okay after all.

“That’s good to know,” he murmured. “Maybe now we can actually stay over at each other’s places instead of sneaking out in the middle of the night so you don’t get to see me dressed up in the morning.”

Brook’s face shadowed. “Lenny,” he began but Lenny leaned over and kissed him, shutting him up. It was a tender, soft kiss and when they pulled apart, both of them were smiling.

“I know it’s all been a bit weird,” Lenny said as his fingers traced Brook’s lips. “I realise waking up to a man and seeing him go out as a woman can be a little disconcerting.”

Brook frowned. “I still worry about you going out dressed like—that.”

Lenny frowned. “Worried? Brook, we’ve talked about this.” Exasperation flooded his body. “I’m used to that. I can take care of myself. The other night I managed to avoid a fracas at the station. The guy got off easy.” He smirked. “I can’t hide who I am when I go to work in the morning. Or come home at night. Mostly before I come home, I change before leaving the office. It’s more comfortable travelling when you’re not wearing heels and a wig after a long day.”

He’d been rambling on and missed Brook’s silence. He looked up at his lover whose face was tight with displeasure. “Brook? What’s the matter?”

“Someone tried to attack you? When was this?” Brook’s voice was tight.

Lenny shrugged. “Some homophobic tosser who had too much to drink tried to plant one on me. I defended myself and he went away. No big deal.”

“So the fear I have was founded and not something in my imagination.”

Lenny gaped at his lover’s serious face. “Honey, I handled it. I’m not being dictated to by some bigot who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. No bloody way. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to hide it.” Lenny had the distinct feeling this conversation was heading down a train tunnel straight into the path of an oncoming train. “I told you, I can take care of myself.” He warmed to his argument. “Besides, all I have to do is be too gay, too loud, too something else and it will give any idiot who fancies it a chance to try and cause shit. Me being dressed up as a woman is another thing to add to an arsehole’s list.”

“What if one day you didn’t see it coming? And you got hurt?” Brook sounded a little desperate and Lenny shook his head in puzzlement.

“Brook, where is this coming from? What am I missing here?” A trickle of unease slid down his spine; Brook’s expression of frustration was tinged with fear.

Brook took a deep breath. “When I was first started at my job, I had a colleague called Aaron who was very femme. We became really good friends.”

Lenny waited. There was obviously more to this story from the look in Brook’s eyes.

“He didn’t dress in women’s clothes but he was a real flamer. And proud of it too. He didn’t back down for anybody. It got him into quite a bit of trouble because, to be honest, he was a bit of a scrapper.” He smiled fondly. “I was his wingman on quite a few occasions then no one seemed to bother him much. Sure, they made comments, but never picked a fight.”

“What happened to him, because I’m assuming something bad did?” Lenny’s eyes were concerned but watchful.

“One day when I wasn’t around, a group of guys got hold of him and beat him so badly he was in hospital for over two weeks. This cute, funny guy was laid up in hospital with broken bones, internal bleeding and lost an eye, it was damaged so badly.” Brook swallowed, remembering the sight of Aaron lying bloodied and beaten like a wax doll in a hospital bed.

“I’m sorry, love.” Lenny reached over and stroked his hand. “Is he all right now?”

Brook nodded. “Yes. He recovered well enough, after all the surgery, met this guy and Nico took him off to France to live. Nico had a vineyard down south and he said it was the right place for Aaron to start over. I still talk to them both, not as much as I used to, but we keep in touch.”

“That’s a fucking awful story, and regrettably, nothing new,” Lenny murmured. “But it’s not going to happen to me.”

Brook snorted. “That’s what Aaron said, and look what happened. I’m really not comfortable with you being out on the streets dressed as Laverne. There are arseholes out there, and I think you’re asking for trouble.”

Lenny stared at him. “That’s not your call to make, love. I understand your concern, and I appreciate it now that I’ve heard about Aaron. I really do. But I’ve been looking after myself my whole damn life. I’ve taken the knocks, and I’ve gotten up from them. And I might dress as a woman when I need to be Laverne, but that does not make me one. I’m a man who doesn’t need a knight on a white charger. I’m quite able to take care of myself. I’m not Aaron.”

His heart ached with the knowledge that perhaps Brook had underestimated him—that perhaps he didn’t quite understand after all.

Brook’s lips firmed and he shook his head mutinously. “Still, Lenny, I’d really like it if you didn’t wear women’s clothing out of work. I mean, it means changing before you come home, so what’s the big deal?”

Lenny didn’t trust himself to speak. He sympathised with Brook, but his request went against everything Lenny believed in. Instead he got out of bed and pulled on sweatpants and a tee shirt with shaking hands. “So because this happened to your friend, you think I should stop what I’ve been doing for the last, oh I don’t know, for fucking
ever
, and play it safe? Is that what you’re asking me to do?”