Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (5 page)

He didn’t look like the proverbial hoodie teenager everyone was warned about. He was in his early teens, casually dressed in jeans and a FCUK sweatshirt. His sneakers were Skechers and his hair was styled with gel. He had what looked like an expensive haircut.

Brook scowled at him. “Mind your damn manners. There’s no need to be rude.”

People about him shifted uncomfortably, seeming to sense there might be trouble. He didn’t care. He could take care of himself. Being both black and gay had made it fairly necessary when he was younger.

The youth shot up to his feet, aggression oozing out of every pore. He clutched the roof bar as the train wobbled from side to side. “Shut it, you wanker. Nobody was talking to you. Don’t you have a bloody plantation to work on or something?” He grinned, obviously thinking he was being witty. The old lady gave a loud snort and started rummaging in her large, rather tatty handbag. People’s murmurs grew louder and around him, eyes looked down at the floor or the copy of the
Metro
, not wanting to get caught up in whatever might be coming.

Brook rolled his eyes. He should be so used to this by now. “No, you ignorant brat. Why don’t you sit the hell down and shut your mouth? People here are trying to get home. They don’t need your crap.”

The brat scowled and reached inside the pocket of his sweatshirt. Brook tensed and readied himself, wondering if a knife or something equally dangerous might come out. He wondered exasperatedly why this was happening now, in a closed space, with so many people. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. But his father had taught him better manners than that.

Brook didn’t get a chance to do anything after all. No sooner had the young man pulled nothing more innocuous than a mobile phone out of his pocket than all hell broke loose. The youth screamed as the smell of oranges flooded the air. His phone dropped to the floor of the carriage. The old lady cackled in glee as whatever she was spraying at him lodged in the youth’s eyes. The other passengers stared in horror, some getting up and moving along out of the area.

Some of the mist hit Brook, whose eyes immediately began watering. The young man must have been in a lot of discomfort as he’d taken the brunt of whatever it was.

“Teach you to bad-mouth your elders, laddie.” the woman screeched as she emptied whatever was in the can into the air. “My chemist friend gave me this for such a situation.” Brook was valiantly trying to remove the can from her grip but she held on for dear life and he didn’t want to hurt her bony fingers.

“You crazy bitch,” the youth screamed as he frantically rubbed at his face. “What the hell is that stuff? You’re gonna make me go blind.”

“Well, you should have minded your manners, then,” she spat at him. Brook managed at last to wrestle it from her as the can ran out, fizzling to nothing more than a pathetic drizzle over his hand. The train slid into the station, stopped and the doors opened. No one got on other than a portly station security officer who stepped into the train, stared at the can in his hand, then at the youth then at the chuckling old lady.

Brook took a deep breath. He didn’t want to get the old lady into trouble but he also didn’t fancy being arrested for assault with a spray can. Luckily, the decision was made for him.

“Arrest that bitch,” the young brat screamed, as he tried to wipe the crap out of his face and eyes. “She made me go fucking blind.”

The security guard sighed heavily and leaned over to pluck the can out of Brook’s fingers. “No, she didn’t,” the guard muttered. “It’s only orange essence in a can. The effects will wear off but it stings like hell before then.” He turned to the grinning woman. “Cally, you promised me you wouldn’t do this again. Now I’m going to have to have you come to the office and speak to the boss again. He’s going to be well angry with you.”

Brook crouched down and picked up the youth’s phone. The guard gestured them all off the train onto the platform. Brook didn’t quite know what was expected of him so he followed them. The train doors closed and it left. Onlookers on the platform gazed at them curiously.

“He started it.” Cally pointed at the youth and pouted, her pale face set. “He was being damn rude to this gentleman here. Racist and plain nasty. He deserved it.”

“Yep, maybe he did,” the guard said agreeably as he rolled his eyes at Brook. “But the two of you are going to have to come with me.” He pointed at Cally. “You, because you did it again, and you”—he pointed at the youth whose face was red and eyes streaming— “you need to have that looked at and your eyes flushed. Come on, the pair o’ you. Follow me.”

Brook stared at him. “Do you need me to come with too?” His eyes still stung and he decided instead of going back to the office, he’d go home, take a quick shower and knuckle down to some work. He had a deadline to meet on a future customer proposal and he was running out of time.

The guard shook his head. “Nah, I think you were the piggy in the middle in this whole thing.” He flashed an angry glance at Cally, who glowered, her face defiant. “She rides these trains all day looking for an excuse to use her ‘orange mace’ as it’s called. It was bad luck she happened to start it before the train pulled into my station. The minute those doors opened and I smelt that damn orange, I knew she’d been up to mischief.” A faint smile crossed his face. “She’s a real character, is our Cally.”

“Will she be in trouble?” Brook asked worriedly. “Because, honestly, all she was doing was standing up for me, even though it wasn’t necessary.” He handed the phone he held over to the guard. “This is his phone.” He jerked a finger at the moaning youth. “You might want to give it back to him when he stops whining.”

The guard nodded. “Yeah, you look like you can take of yourself,” he said appraisingly. “But no, she won’t be in too much trouble. The boss will give her a dressing down and a warning and send her home.” He became business like. “Thanks for the phone. Right, you two, let’s get going so I can get back to work. You’ve both fucked up my schedule to catch train jumpers with your stupid stunt.”

Brook leaned over and touched the old lady’s arm. “Thanks, Cally,” he murmured. “I hope his boss goes easy on you.”

The woman’s eyes twinkled. “Oh he will,” she purred. “He’s not likely to do anything too bad to his poor old grandma.” She winked as she sashayed off after the guard, the youth protesting angrily behind her. Once again Brook’s jaw dropped. He clutched his briefcase close to his chest and shook his head in weary amusement as he waited for the next train to arrive. Today couldn’t end soon enough.

Chapter 5

Lenny slammed his phone down on the table. “For fuck’s sake, stop texting me. You’re driving me to distraction.”

The latest text he’d received from the relentless onslaught that was Brook Hunter was really playing with his head. Lenny was slowly, grudgingly coming to the conclusion that for some reason, his ex-lover had resurfaced and wasn’t giving up on him. Part of him rejoiced in that fact; the other felt the first tremors of apprehension. Lenny didn’t know if he could resist much longer.

A knock at his office door made him look up. Leslie stood there, a frown on his face.

“Okay to come in, boss?” he asked, bobbing impatiently from foot to foot like a beach ball on the waves.

Lenny squinted at him in suspicion. “You’re asking now? Darling, normally you barge in like the bloody Queen Mary.”

“Oh, puh-lease,” Leslie waved a hand airily as he came in and plonked himself in the chair in front of Lenny’s desk. “I may be a queen but I have do have
some
manners.”

“Since when?” Lenny asked gruffly. “I could be on my knees giving a blowjob to someone, and you’d waltz in. What’s happened to the old Leslie I knew?”

“Ooh, we
are
a grumpy girl,” Leslie chittered. His keen eyes glanced at Lenny’s phone. “Did you break a nail? Who’s pissed on your battery anyway that you have a face like thunder?” He ignored Lenny’s snort. “And F-Y-I, Oliver told me last time he was here visiting he noticed my lack of pre-announcement when I came in here and thought it might be nice if I tried knocking now and then. I thought I’d try it out.” His pink lips pursed in a moue. “
That
doesn’t look like it worked too well. I think I’ll stick to barging in.”

Lenny leaned back and smoothed the front of his magenta-coloured silk blouse. For some reason the fabric kept creasing and he made the decision not to buy from this particular vendor again. It looked like her silk wasn’t up to scratch.

“So who’s got your panties all ruffled?” Leslie asked. “Anything I can do to help?”

Lenny sighed. “No. Someone who won’t take no for an answer.”

Leslie’s face became animated. “Oh, I know
that
situation. The other night Oliver and I were out at a club and he went to the loo. Some guy came over to chat me up and he was very insistent. He asked if I’d go with him to some private party for a shag fest with some of his friends.”

Lenny grinned at the indignant look on Leslie’s face. He knew his opinion on
that
subject having been subjected to a passionate discourse more than once.

“I mean, what the hell says ‘
I’m into multi-fucking’
with this?” Leslie waved an expressive hand down his face and body. “Do I have an invisible tattoo somewhere that says ‘Ménage Boy’ or something?” He huffed. “Anyways, Oliver came out and saw the guy and I thought he was going to smack him into next week.” He gave a satisfied smile. “I love it when he gets all caveman on me. I mean, when we got home that night—”

Lenny raised a hand. “No more, sweet. I don’t think I can take any stories of how you and your porn star boyfriend managed to make mad, passionate, kinky caveman love when poor Laverne is going through one of her dry spells.” He made a sad face and motioned to his phone. “And having one very determined man trying to get me to go out with him again
should
make me happy that situation might be remedied but I don’t know…”

Leslie’s eyes brightened and he leaned forward. “Is it that Brook guy?” he said conspiratorially.

Lenny nodded.

Leslie frowned. “So what’s the problem? Go out with the man, get laid and poof! No more problem.”

Lenny shook his head. “It’s not that simple. Brook is,” his voice tailed off. “Well, he’s a pretty conservative kind of guy and I’m still not sure how he’d feel if he found out the man he’d slept with wore women’s clothes to work.”

Leslie gasped and clasped a hand to his chest. “Oh, Laverne, he wouldn’t be that shallow, would he? I mean Oliver loves my corsets and heels; what man wouldn’t?”

Lenny cleared his throat. “Those that watch
Ru Paul’s Drag Race
with you then say, ‘I wouldn’t particularly want my man dressing up like a woman and put on display like that, but damn, some of them look beautiful when they do. Not my cup of tea, but they’d definitely fool anyone who didn’t know there was a man underneath all that eyeliner.’” Lenny shrugged. “Then when I asked him what it was that he didn’t like, he laughed and said he fancied me as I was without any cosmetics.”

Leslie’s blue eyes shadowed as Lenny continued. “When I heard that, I thought it was best to go our separate ways and not get more invested.” Lenny’s heart ached. His whole world changed when Brook made that remark—admittedly not in derision or judgement, more in thoughtful conversation. They had both been rather drunk by that time, but it had still hurt. Lenny knew his habits were a bit much for some men to take.

There was silence as Leslie’s brows furrowed in thought. “Ah, I see.” He seemed to be pondering and Lenny waited to see what pearls of wisdom might fall from his lips. Leslie was discerning and had a lively and intelligent mind. Advice from him was usually worth listening to. Unless it was watching films that he recommended. Their viewing tastes were not the same and Lenny had no desire to watch any of the
Pitch Perfect
series, something Leslie adored and about which there had been some heated debate on both the dancing featured and the leading man.

Leslie nodded sagely. “But he didn’t actually
say
he’d have a problem with it, did he? I mean, it might not be something he’d ever thought about, but with the right man, someone he cared about? And he did say ‘I wouldn’t
particularly
want it’ meaning that perhaps there was a little room for manoeuvre in there, as if he wasn’t really being
particular
, he might consider it? And he thought some of them were beautiful, which means he must be attracted to them, right?” The words flowed from Leslie’s lovely mouth like a deluge of glitter, and Lenny could only watch in horrified wonder as his protégé gained momentum.

“Laverney, do you think you maybe overreacted and did one of those ‘knee-jerk’ thingies people do when they get all panicked? I mean, you were quite into this man and it seems such a pity if he’s trying to get back in touch that you don’t give him a chance to explain and maybe talk it over with him. Over a nice Rioja and a fancy dinner at Galileo’s perhaps?”

Lenny had reeled at the name ‘Laverney,’ which was a new development, and not one he liked. The way Leslie’s eyes sparkled, Lenny had a feeling it had been spurted out simply to make him take notice. He was also dizzy from watching Leslie’s slim hands wave around in front of his face like semaphores trying to direct an errant plane in to land.

Lenny stood up, pulling his dove-grey suit trousers from his arse crack, and smoothing them down. He fastened a stray mother of pearl button on his blouse, which had somehow come undone, exposing his boobs. Leslie stopped talking and watched in approval.

“Nice outfit. I haven’t seen those trousers before; are they new? The colour goes beautifully with your blouse.”

“Yes, they’re part of the new Fashionista range.”

Leslie huffed. “There’s something I meant to ask you. I see that Tracy Trey is getting into
your
area of expertise? He’s started doing men’s suits. I hope he doesn’t stop making his corsets and underwear. Oliver wouldn’t be happy.”

“I doubt he’ll stop designing the things that bring him the most revenue, Leslie. I think you and Oliver are safe.” Lenny nodded. “And, yes, I knew. I saw Tracy the other day at a lunch and he told me all about it. He gloated he was going to become a major competitor. The man’s a prick.”