Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (3 page)

Lenny raised one brow at the group and waited.

“Ms Debussy-Smith, we believe it to be a fair percentage given the risk you’re asking us to take.” The man who’d been giving him the stink eye, Keith, looked like a rotund seal, all grey skin and flabby jowls. “Your business is doing well, your reputation is sterling, but let’s face it, you are a little over-extended. And, of course, you’re known to be a little, well, eccentric in your business dealings. I mean, you give away large amounts of your profit, which should be being ploughed back into the business. How do we know we’ll get our money back when you’re giving it away like that?” He looked around at his colleague, whom Lenny had dubbed Grey Hair because he couldn’t remember his name, who stared at Keith with horror. It was obvious he didn’t like the way this was going and for a minute, Lenny felt sorry for him. Then he steeled himself. Either of them could stop the drivel if they had the balls.

Lenny wanted to punch Keith. He imagined ‘eccentric’ to the sneering Keith also meant the unstated ‘
You dress up like a woman. Oh, and you’re a poofter.
’ Reining in his urge to plant his fist in Keith’s nose, Lenny leaned forward and placed a well-manicured hand on the table, tapping the surface gently. He didn’t wear false nails, but kept his own neatly trimmed and varnished with clear nail polish. The ominous thudding sound made the man across from him gaze at Lenny’s moving fingers as if hypnotised.

“I see,” Lenny mused. “You mean those charities I support? The Albert Kennedy Trust for homeless LGBT youth? Galop? Pace? And of course, let’s not forget Stonewall.” He bared his teeth in a snarl. “Gentlemen, giving to these charities is my way of giving something back to my community. I know what it’s like to be a gay kid on the streets, so to me this is a non-negotiable aspect of my business. I put money into these charities so I can sleep at night. My business profits may suffer a little but all it means is that its takes longer to get where I want to be.”

“Well, perhaps if you didn’t give your money away, you wouldn’t be asking us to borrow more money now,” Keith said, a smug expression on his face. “Perhaps you could put your money back into your business and leave the donations to these minority groups to other people,” he said disdainfully. “I’m sure there are other more deserving charities out there that might not need so much money. I mean, these
homeless
people run riot all over the city and everyone panders to them like damn sycophants.” He flapped a careless hand to illustrate whatever point he thought he was making. His condescending tone echoed in the room like the knell of doom.

There was a deathly silence as Lenny digested Keith’s words with a sense of disbelief. Grey Hair had a panicked look on his face and he half raised himself from his chair.

“Now, Keith, that’s not really the spirit we came in,” he stammered, casting a panicked glance at Lenny, whose face was probably twisting into something resembling Quasimodo—he was that furious. “I assure you, Ms Debussy-Smith, we don’t all hold that same opinion—”

His voice trailed off as Lenny rose up from his seat like a leviathan and pointed a finger at the puzzled-looking Keith. Lenny was glad he’d worn his highest heels today; he towered over the others, a change from his average five foot nine.

The man doesn’t have a fucking clue how insensitive and rude he’s just been. I want to fucking deck him one.

“Minority groups? More deserving charities?” Lenny blasted. “Are you insinuating that I shouldn’t give to these charities because they support LGBT causes and that’s a ‘minority’ in your eyes? People dying on the street, being beaten to death for being different, having nowhere to stay because their families don’t want them anymore, like a damn dog bought for Christmas and then abandoned. We’re minorities to you?”

I don’t want to do business with people like you anyway, arseholes.

His voice got louder with every sentence and both men were now on their feet, clutching briefcases and looking very uncomfortable.

“Ms Debussy-Smith, I can assure you that’s not our judgement to give. Keith was totally out of line saying what he did.” Grey Hair glared at his colleague who looked back, seemingly stupefied that his crass comment had caused such ire.

“You bet your fucking life he was,” Lenny spat. His bosom heaved inside his ruched tailored blouse and for a split second he wondered if his falsies would hold firm. “I’d suggest you both get the fuck out of my office right now before I rip your damn heads off and shove them up your arses.”

The men’s eyes widened as they clutched satchels and made a beeline for the door. Keith opened it and turned back, mouth open as if to speak. Grey Hair muttered something to the effect of, ‘The boss is going to crucify us, and he won’t be happy with this turn of events.’ Lenny hoped with all his heart that was true.

He strode forward and waggled his fingers menacingly in front of Keith’s face, as the man appeared about to speak. “Not another damned word from you, you little thundershit,” he warned as he pushed them out into the corridor. He loved that swearword, stolen from a past mentor. “I might look like a lady but under this skirt, I’ll damn well kick your arse anytime, you prick.”

There was a hush in the open-plan environment as Lenny’s employees watched the two men beetle quickly over to the lift. Lenny’s PA, Naomi, was seated at her desk outside his office. She stared after the fleeing men with wide eyes. Lenny watched them go, smoothing down his Donna Karan jersey pencil skirt.

“So…good meeting then?” There was a gentle snigger at the end of the comment.

Lenny whipped around and glared at the black-haired, blue-eyed vision in front of him. Leslie Scott, one of Lenny’s trainee buyers, and his favourite employee stood staring at him from the foot of Naomi’s desk. His sapphire eyes sparkled and his face bore a cheeky grin.

“I don’t have time for dickheads or homophobic wankers,” Lenny growled angrily. “Shouldn’t you be working and not listening to my business conversations?”

Leslie waved a slim hand. His face creased in merriment. “Well, one couldn’t help but hear, Laverne, dear. You were so loud,” he snorted. “Would you really have shoved their heads up their bums? ’Cause I have to say, I’d love to watch that…”

Naomi chortled then put a hand over her mouth as Lenny glared at her.

Sometimes he thought this young man needed a good spanking, although Leslie probably got that at home with his ex-porn star boyfriend Oliver. Lenny’s eyes narrowed when he saw what Leslie was wearing. His anger at his abortive meeting disappeared and a familiar amusement took its place, sprinkled with a fond frustration.

“Leslie, is that my new waistcoat design you’re wearing?”

Leslie flushed. “Yes, but it’s not what you think,” he gabbled. “Sophie was fitting it on me to see how it looked and when I heard the noise from your office, I came over. I’m not taking it home, Laverne.”

His voice broke off wistfully as he ran loving fingers over the fabric of the silk waistcoat. Leslie loved good fashion and had a great eye for it, and for the fabrics needed to make the garments.

Sophie was one of Lenny’s trainee designers working with him on a new style and loved using Leslie as a model. However, Lenny had no doubt that if Leslie could get away with it, the waistcoat would disappear and become a Sherlock Holmes mystery to solve.

“Make sure it doesn’t,” Lenny commanded. “That’s earmarked for some music awards next year, for Jett Pepper from Windfall. He’s commissioned it especially for the event.”

Leslie’s jaw dropped open and he stared down at the garment he wore with wonder. Lenny smirked. He knew Leslie had a thing for the sexy and burly lead singer of one of the most sought-after alternative bands in the country.

“Jett Pepper’s going to be wearing this?” he breathed. “Oh—my—God. I’m wearing his waistcoat. That is radical, I can’t even…”

His voice tailed off and Lenny grinned at the hero worship in his young protégé’s eyes. Just seeing Leslie seemed to have restored his good mood. The younger man had that effect on people. Naomi smiled as she went back to her typing.

“Not that exact one, chicken,” Lenny murmured. “That’s a prototype.”

“Oh. But still…” Leslie sighed deeply. “It’s still special.”

“Very special,” Lenny agreed. “And I still want to see it in the Arbour at the end of the year, as a sample, and not in your closet. That’s my one and only warning, Leslie, my sweet pea.”

Leslie had a habit of acquiring soiled spec suits and garments for his own personal use. It wasn’t often, and Lenny knew about each one of them in advance. Leslie worked on the ‘May I borrow it and then never bring it back’ principle of ownership. Lenny didn’t begrudge him them as they were of no use to anyone once they were slightly soiled, and the younger man put in a lot of overtime and was always willing to help out. He was so in love with the items that Lenny was glad they went to someone who adored them as much as he did. Still, Lenny thought he needed to assert his ‘boss’ authority before half of Debussy’s stock went missing.

Leslie stuck a small, pink tongue out at him. “Oliver’s buying me my own suits,” he said haughtily. “His are too big for me to wear, so now we have a special closet at his house for my stuff. So there.” He smirked and Lenny wanted to spank that bubble butt.

He narrowed his eyes instead and drawled, “I know. I saw the order come through. One deep grey Debussy Fashionista in size…small.” Now it was Lenny’s turn to smirk.

Leslie’s face flushed pink. “I am
so
not small all over,” he sputtered. “In case that’s what you’re inferring, boss. Yes, I might be slim and not so tall but I’ll have you know—”

Lenny interrupted him with a grin. “Yes, I’ve heard all about the monster in your pants.” He rolled his eyes. “Oliver’s a lucky man indeed, I imagine then?”

His PA gave a muffled sound and turned to scramble in her bag for something. A tissue to wipe her streaming eyes from an amusement overload, Lenny guessed.

“I am
so
not talking to you about
that
,” Leslie sniffed. “You need to get your own sex fantasies.” He smiled wickedly. “I remember you telling me about some guy, Brook, a while ago that you were seeing? You seemed quite keen on him last time you mentioned him. How’s that whole thing going?” He waggled his hands like fluttering birds.

Lenny felt a squirm of unease. “I haven’t seen him in a while,” he muttered.

Make that I haven’t returned any of his calls or made the effort to stay in touch in the past weeks.

The one man Lenny had thought he might have developed a relationship with had spoilt it all one night with one unthinking comment after watching
Ru Paul’s Drag Race
. Lenny thought he’d probably overreacted to the casual comment, but it was too late now. The damage was done. Brook might have been ‘the one,’ but, in the end, he’d turned out to be like everyone else—conservative. And not in the political sense.

“Oh?” Leslie’s look of concern was sweet. “I thought you guys had something special going on.”

Lenny frowned. “It didn’t pan out, Tinkerbell. Not everything can be a happy ever after, you know.”

He thought his knee-jerk reaction to an off-the-cuff comment from Brook had been as good a reason as any to distance himself from someone that could be dangerous to his heart.

He regretted his terse words as a shadow fell across Leslie’s lovely face. Lenny didn’t begrudge Leslie his own HEA at all. Lenny reached out and chucked Leslie under the chin. The younger man’s eyes stared at him uncertainly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m being a bitch.”

“You really liked him,” Leslie said. “Did things get so bad that you couldn’t fix it? Because everything can be fixed, you know.” His tone grew earnest. “Maybe you should give him a call? Send him a Jacquie Lawson card like I did for Oliver?”

Lenny couldn’t help a chuckle at that. “I’m not sure sending him a cheeky monkey card will help. But thanks for the thought.” He sighed. “No, he said something I didn’t think boded well for the future and—”

“What?” Leslie’s eyes widened and he pursed his lips. “Hell, I say things all the time that people don’t agree with or like but they still talk to me.”

Laverne bit back a smile at that. Naomi made a choking sound as she tried to contain her laughter at Leslie’s ingenuous comment. His predilection for putting his foot in his mouth was well known in the office.

Leslie put his hands on slim hips and scowled. “Perhaps you were being a tad over-sensitive?”

Lenny snorted. “A
tad
? Who are you, bloody Little Lord Fauntleroy?” He grinned to take the sting out of his words. Leslie pressed lips together, sapphire blue eyes staring at Lenny as he waited for his reply. A curl of black hair swept down onto his forehead and he brushed it away absently.

The regret in Lenny’s voice was self-evident when he answered. “I appreciate the worry, love, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll have moved on by now, no doubt.”

Brook had been a catch of note. He’d been tall and wide shouldered, with burnished bronze velvet skin and the most beautiful twinkling brown eyes. Coupled with a sense of humour and a deep, melodious voice, Brook had sent Lenny’s insides and emotions into a spin.

“Humph,” Leslie sniffed. “I hear nothing but an excuse there, boss.”

Lenny scowled at his employee who gazed back at him, wide eyes innocent. “Yes, well, we’re all entitled to our opinions, aren’t we?” Lenny said.

Leslie rolled his eyes again and heaved a deep
I’m so put upon
sigh.

Laverne ignored it. “Anyway, I’m sure you have work to do, my young lad, so if you wouldn’t mind getting back to it, I know that the boss would be
ever
so grateful.”

Sarcasm was wasted on Leslie, Lenny knew, but it made
him
feel better.

Leslie shrugged. “Okay, your wish is my command.” He turned and waggled his pert arse cheekily. “This is me, leaving to go back to work, before the big, bad, boss throws a hissy fit because she’s so
wrong
.” He sang the last word loudly, and Lenny reached out and picked up an eraser sitting on Naomi’s desk and wound up to throw it at the back of Leslie’s head.