Ricochet (13 page)

him.

"I remember it all now. Oh shit." Matt buried

his head in his hands. "Did I tell you all kinds of

personal stuff? About the sex scene with Karl, and

about… oh shit, did I tell you about my first sexual

experience?"

"Yes, you did, and I'll be tweeting all the

details later." Rick winked, and Matt thumped him

on the arm - hard. "Ow! Don't be an idiot, Matty -

your secrets are safe with me. I promised you that

last night."

"Oh. Right. Yes, you did. I am so

embarrassed." Matt rubbed his head, feeling

stupid. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

"Hey - it's fine. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"Really?" Matt raised an eyebrow. "Because

that doesn't seem like something you'd be good at."

"Hah!" Rick poked him in the ribs. "That's

where you're wrong, Mr. Wasted-after-two-

glasses-of-wine."

"Don't remind me. Oh shit - what time is it?"

He glanced at his watch. "Damn it, Rick - we'll be

late for work!"

"Nah - there's plenty of time. I haven't been up

this early in ages." Rick swung his legs forward,

bumping Matt off the sofa in the process, and Matt

landed on the carpeted floor with a yelp.

"No, there isn't!" he protested. "I don't have

time to get home, shower, and get changed before

work."

"Then don't." Rick shrugged. "You can take a

shower here."

"But if I go to work wearing these clothes…"

Matt gestured helplessly at the large, dark wine

stain on his shirt.

"People will think you had a hot date and

didn't go home last night. What's the big deal?"

Rick shrugged.

"It's embarrassing."

"Well, I could lend you one of my shirts, but I

think that'd cause even more gossip, don't you?"

Rick grinned at him infuriatingly. "Anyway, who

cares? You'll be changing into Ben's clothes the

minute you get on set, so hardly anyone will see."

"Oh, forgive me for not wanting to turn up to

work late, smelling of liquor, looking like I've just

had a one-night stand! Some of us have standards!"

"Whatever, grumpy face. C'mon." Rick held

out a hand. "Get up and in the shower - you'll feel

better after that."

Matt grabbed hold of Rick's hand and

allowed him to haul him to his feet. The room

swam again, and he lurched into Rick and held on

tight - the man was built like a tree trunk, and he

put his big arms around him and held him up until

everything was still again.

"Okay?" Rick was giving him one of those

smug grins, and Matt thought it'd be easier to like

him if he wasn't so annoying.

"I'm fine, thank you," Matt snapped. He pulled

away sharply, wishing he felt steadier on his feet.

"Where's the shower?"

Rick directed him to the bathroom in the

spare bedroom and found him a razor and a clean

toothbrush, still in its wrapper. "I have a drawer

full of them," he said with a wink as he left Matt to

it.

"Yes, yes, we know, for when one of your

legions of subs sleeps over," Matt muttered under

his breath as he shut the door firmly and began

getting undressed.

Rick was right about one thing - he did feel

much better once he'd taken a shower, washed his

hair, shaved and brushed his teeth.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and

emerged into the spare bedroom to see a clean tee

shirt lying on the bed. He pulled it on to find it

more or less fitted him. He looked at himself in the

mirror and sighed as he saw the words

emblazoned on it:

You want to spank me, and you know it!

They were the words of an infuriatingly

catchy pop song that everyone had been singing a

few months ago. Still, it was better than his

liquor-stained shirt, so he decided to go with it.

He walked down the stairs and found Rick in

the kitchen, brewing some coffee. He had

showered and dressed too - in a pair of black

jeans and a tight crimson shirt that hugged his body

almost obscenely. There was the usual assortment

of leather thong bracelets around his wrists, and he

was wearing his favorite thumb ring. A gold ear

cuff clung to his left ear, attached by a chain to a

ruby ear stud with a long scarlet crystal spike

hanging from it. As usual, Matt felt decidedly

under-dressed beside him.

"Thanks - shit I need this!" Matt said, taking

the mug of black coffee that Rick handed to him.

"You're welcome, and you're right; I do."

Rick winked at him, nodding his head at the slogan

emblazoned on his chest.

"Hah hah hah hah hah." Matt glared at him.

"Was this really the only spare tee shirt you had?"

"Nah, but I liked the idea of you wearing that

slogan." Rick grinned. "Also, it's a great shade of

blue on you; brings out the color of your eyes.

Plus, it actually fits." He stood back and surveyed

Matt critically. "It's not mine - some sub left it here

a few months ago."

Matt took a sip of his coffee. "And they never

came back for it?"

"Nah - I never invite subs back; it

complicates things."

"Really? Never?" Matt glanced at him over

the rim of his mug, startled. "I mean, I know you

get through a lot of subs, but you never see them

again after?"

"Nope. I don't do reruns. Once is fun, but

twice starts to feel like we're dating, and I don't

date."

"Why not?"

"Why?" Rick countered with a grin.

"I don't know - lots of reasons: Intimacy,

friendship, affection… love?"

"I've got friends for that. Relationships just

complicate things. That's why I've got my no reruns

policy."

"Wow - those are some massive commitment

issues you've got there, O'Shea."

"I freely admit it. Now, if you've finished

guzzling that coffee - take this." Rick handed him a

motorcycle helmet.

Matt stared at it blankly. "Uh… why?"

"Because I don't trust that you're sober enough

to drive yet, so you'll be my passenger on the

bike."

"I'm not sober enough to drive, but you are?"

Matt raised an eyebrow.

"I only had one glass of wine. You were

knocking it back."

"I'm fine. There is no way I'm getting on that

stupid bike with you."

"Tough." Rick's expression changed, and he

folded his arms across his chest. "Because there is

no way I'm letting you get behind the wheel of a

car right now."

Rick was usually very easygoing, so Matt had

expected him to shrug and give in, but it seemed

that he really did mean it about him not driving. He

might have a point - Matt had drunk a lot only a

few hours ago; it probably wasn't entirely safe for

him to drive yet.

"Why don't you drive my car then?" Matt held

up the keys.

"What's the matter…? Oh wait!" Rick rolled

his eyes. "You've never been on a motorcycle

before, have you?"

"Well… no," Matt admitted. "They always

seem noisy, and dangerous, and -"

"Fun and exciting?" Rick raised an eyebrow.

"You know, I don't think there's nearly enough fun

and excitement in your ordered little life."

"And I don't think there's nearly enough order

and routine in your freewheeling existence," Matt

retorted.

Rick laughed. "You could be right, but we

can't all be as perfect as you. C'mon - let's get

moving. I can't be late for work today after Petra's

dressing down yesterday."

Matt took the helmet and followed Rick into

the hallway. Rick paused to shoulder himself into

his long, black leather coat, while Matt grabbed

his scarf and put on his own much less dramatic

denim jacket, and they went to the front door. Rick

opened it… and they both froze as a dozen camera

light bulbs flashed at them.

"Rick, Rick - any comment about what

happened down at the Justice Hall last night?" a

reporter yelled.

Matt stood there, open-mouthed, taking in the

sight of the crowd of journalists camped out on

Rick's front drive, complete with brightly flashing

cameras.

"Damn it - I forgot to lock the gates when I

got home last night," Rick muttered.

"Are you worried about your job, Rick?"

someone called.

"Do you think Petra Davies will fire you over

this?"

"Rick - are you and Matthew Lake having an

affair?"

"What?" Matt exploded.

The journalist who'd yelled that out grinned at

him. "Well, you stayed over last night, and that

isn't the shirt you were wearing when you arrived."

"How did you…?"

"Forget it, Matt. They just want to get a quote

out of you," Rick told him quietly. He took hold of

Matt's hand and dragged him across the driveway

towards his Harley. "Have you never dealt with

the paparazzi before?" Rick asked as they walked.

"Well… not like this, no. Have you?" Matt

asked, shocked.

"Plenty of times, but that's because I'm always

doing stupid things and drawing attention to

myself, whereas the most gossip you've ever given

them is going out for a meal with your boring

accountant dom, followed by a quiet night in."

"That is not…" Matt began, and then he

sighed. "Okay, that is true."

"Matt! Does this mean you've split up from

Emily Campanillo? Or doesn't she know that

you're sleeping with Rick?"

"What the hell business is that of yours? And I

am NOT sleeping with Rick!" Matt rounded on the

journalist angrily. Rick took Matt's helmet out of

his hand, placed it on his head, and began buckling

it up under his chin.

"Is it true she offered you her collar, but you

turned her down because you're secretly in love

with Rick?"

"No! Where on earth do you get this shit?"

"Matty - I've told you, just stay calm and say

nothing," Rick hissed, fastening the helmet a little

too tight, in what felt like an effort to gag him.

"No way! I am not letting them get away with

making up stuff about me!"

"Matt - how does it feel to be another notch

on Rick O'Shea's bedpost?" someone yelled. "Do

you feel cheap and dirty now? He's had just about

every other sub in town, after all!"

Matt saw red. He jerked away from Rick and

stormed across the driveway… only to find

himself suddenly walking on air, his feet kicking

out uselessly beneath him as a strong arm latched

around his body and swung him off the ground.

"What the hell…?" Matt hollered, as Rick

threw him over his shoulder, cave-dom style, and

carried him back to the bike.

He plunked Matt on it, got on behind him, and

put his arms around Matt to grab the handlebars,

trapping Matt there. "Now shut up and stay still,"

Rick ordered, revving up the bike.

"But I -"

"Quiet!" Rick thundered. He stamped his foot

down on the pedal, and the bike roared out of the

driveway and onto the road, leaving a trail of

scattered journalists in its wake.

"Oh shit…" Matt put his arms back and clung

onto Rick's solid body for dear life. "I thought

passengers were supposed to ride behind the

driver?" he squeaked.

"Normally, yes - but I couldn't be sure you

wouldn't jump off to get into a fist fight with those

idiots back there."

Matt took several deep breaths and tried to

relax as Rick wove in and out of the LA traffic,

trying to lose the reporters chasing them.

"Oh… fuck… oh… .agh!" Matt closed his

eyes as the bike swerved, and sped up, and

swerved again. "We're going to crash and die!" he

yelled - and he had to resist an impulse to jab Rick

in the ribs when he guffawed in response.

"Don't freak out, Matty. It's fine. I'm good at

this."

"No you aren't! You got arrested for speeding

yesterday!"

"That's true." Matt could feel Rick's chuckle

against his body.

"Stop and let me off!"

"No. Don't be a baby. Besides, you'll be late

for work, and Petra will find a way to blame me,

and there's no way I'm taking more licks after

yesterday."

"Fine, but if you ever get yourself disciplined

down at the Justice Hall again, there's no way I'm