Stuff (The Bristol Collection) (12 page)

“Nah, don’t worry. You’d only end up slopping half of it on your way down the stairs. I’ll survive. Just need to take a lunch break sometime. Oh, and another thing. Have you got a screen hidden away anywhere?”

“A screen? I don’t have a computer.”

“Not that kind of screen, and by the way, we do need to have a talk about this not-owning-a-computer business. That’s pretty much inexcusable in this day and age. But I meant the old kind of screen. You know, that ladies used to throw their stockings over and so on.”

“There might be one upstairs somewhere.” In fact, Perry was almost certain there was. Aunt Betty had been enraptured by anything to do with vintage glamour, despite spending most of her time in farming overalls. “What do you need it for?”

Mas gave him a pointed look as Perry handed down a couple of boxes of lightbulbs. “What do you think?”

“You want to make a changing area?”

“You need one.”

“I don’t know. What if people stuff things in their bags while they’re in there?”

“They won’t, because I’ll be keeping an eye on what they’re taking in and out, and also, that’s a risk you’ve got to bloody well take. It’ll be worth losing the odd thing here and there if we can make this shop somewhere people enjoy coming. It’s an acceptable risk.”

“Acceptable to you, maybe. I don’t enjoy taking risks.” Perry slid down from the counter and faced Mas.

“Shame.” Mas smiled slowly, mischief in his eyes, and all of a sudden they weren’t talking about shoplifters anymore. “Reckon I could show you a few things you’d love if you were willing to take the risk.” Mas sidled in closer, placing a hand against the cupboards either side of Perry, and now Perry was trapped against the counter. The whiff of scent he’d caught from Mas earlier was now in full force. A spicy, woodsy fragrance. He inhaled deeply, unable to stop himself. It was far less cloying that that awful floral stuff Cherise wore.

And though he was determined to blame that fleeting thought of Cherise for the way his prick started to take an undue interest, it wasn’t Cherise’s voluptous body that flitted through his mind.

He had to get a grip on this. Even if he wasn’t determinedly heterosexual, fraternising with the staff would be a terrible mistake. And oh God, since when had he started channelling his father?

Perry cleared his throat and tried to make light of his thundering heart and half-aroused state. “Attempting to seduce the boss is considered gross misconduct, I believe.”

“Baby, there’s nothing gross about my misconduct. Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of gross. I mean, I’m not into felching or anything like that, but I’ll give most things a try.”

“Felching?”

“Trust me, babe, you don’t want to know. It’s your every worst nightmare about gay sex come true. But the rest is great. Anytime you want to know more, you just come and—”

The rest of Mas’s offer was cut short by the sound of the bell on the shop door. Perry leapt away from him guiltily, aware that his breath was coming way too fast for Mas not to have noticed something was up. Quite literally. Perry adjusted his trousers, blushed at Mas’s knowing smirk and stumbled back into the shop.

“Don’t worry, boss, I’ll see to them.” Mas clapped a hand on Perry’s shoulder as he bounded past. “You just concentrate on getting yourself presentable.”

Perry stared down at the woodgrain of the cabinet he was leaning on and made a mental effort to pull himself together. Was he gay? Or bisexual? That would be more likely, surely, as he definitely found women attractive. It had been the easiest thing in the world to just assume he was straight.

But based on his reaction to Mas, that assumption was starting to crumble.

There was probably only one way to find out for sure, but taking Mas up on his offer would be the mother of all risks. No, the best thing to do would be to knuckle down to work, concentrate on showing Mas the ropes and sublimate any unwanted sexual feelings in his art. Why change the habits of a lifetime, after all?

The rest of the day passed much faster than a Saturday had any right to. Normally Perry was frustrated by them, wanting to head on up to his workshop but well aware that unless it was raining, he was likely to be bothered by another customer before long. Instead he’d bring down a sketchbook, idly doodling to fill the time.

This Saturday, though, Mas didn’t give him a moment to get bored. First they had to locate the stepladder and replace lightbulbs in both rooms, then Mas set him to work cleaning the windows. Actually, that wasn’t strictly accurate. What happened was Mas announced the windows were a disgrace and that he was going to clean them, and then Perry spotted Derek “Dare to my mates” Nelson heading in and offered to do it himself. Dare made him uneasy. Too opinionated and macho, all full of swagger because he owned a junkyard. For some reason, he still seemed to consider the two of them friends, despite the way Perry had rebuffed his sexual advances. Better let Mas deal with him instead.

He had the feeling Mas could deal with anybody, and this was confirmed when he heard Dare’s laughter booming out a few minutes later. He pushed down the twinge of annoyance at that. No reason to be upset at Mas getting along well with the customers, after all.

Perry scrubbed viciously at a particularly stubborn spot of dirt. If Dare tried to seduce Mas, he’d have Perry to deal with first. He was relieved to hear Dare’s casual good-bye just a minute later. Dare hadn’t lingered as long as he usually did with Perry, but he wasn’t going to examine just why that made him feel lighter inside.

When Perry counted up the money in the till at the end of the day, he felt an inexplicable rush of joy. Mas had done exactly what he’d promised. The chap was a genuine miracle worker.

Perry peeled two tens off the stack of notes and handed them over. “I’m sorry I can’t afford any more than this right now, but if you’d like to come back tomorrow, I’d be more than happy to have your help.”

“Cheers, mate. And the day after that?”

“Monday?”

“Yep, that’s the one that usually comes after Sunday.”

“I don’t open on a Monday.”

“I know, darling. I saw the sign too. But can I come in on Monday and start remerchandising? There’s a lot to be done.”

“You really want to work here? Isn’t it a bit of a comedown after your department store?” Mas had mentioned Crowther’s several times during the course of the day, and while Perry certainly hadn’t detected any snobbery in his tone, he couldn’t help realising just how many shortcomings his shop had in comparison. And maybe Mas had even had a point about things like the bags and the not taking cards, but Perry had never set out to attract the moneyed classes. He’d had enough of them to last him several lifetimes.

Mas frowned. “It’s a bloody nightmare in terms of the merchandising, but that’s just what makes it a challenge, isn’t it?” The frown was now long gone, replaced by a resolute expression, and then a flirty grin in rapid succession. “Plus, the staff are much better looking here. I could get used to that. So, I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. Eight okay? I’ve got a few things I want to get on with before we open up.”

“Eight?” Perry was always up well before then, as a few hours peace and quiet in his workshop set him up for a day of retail madness. “I’ll be up. Just ring the bell.”

“See ya tomorrow, then.” Mas left with a wink and a bounce in his step, and not for the first time that day, Perry wondered what on earth he was letting himself in for.

Chapter Thirteen

Jasper’s kitchen table was a good place to work, but even the best surroundings weren’t much help when you had vital pieces of information missing. Mas frowned at his sketchpad. It would be so much easier to design a kick-arse window display if he knew what he had to work with, and if there was any budget to buy in supplies. There were a few smaller bits and pieces he’d spotted around the shop he knew he could display, but without proper shop-window dummies, he’d be stuck for properly showing clothes. Unless he hung them off old-fashioned wooden hangers, perhaps. It wouldn’t look brilliant, but for fuck’s sake, anything had to be an improvement on the current wasteland of dead flies and dust bunnies.

Jasper wandered into the kitchen, barefoot and with a book in his hand. “Oh, you’re still here? I thought you’d be going out tonight.”

“Yeah, I was going to, but then I got caught up in all this. You know, I can just feel how good this is all going to be when I’ve had a chance to get that place knocked into shape.”

“You should take a break. It’s not natural, you being in on a Saturday night. Want a cup of tea?”

“Cheers, mate.” Mas watched Jasper fiddling about with the kettle. “Sorry if you two wanted a quiet evening to yourselves. I can always go to my room and put my earphones on if you’d prefer.”

“It’s fine. Really, you’re no trouble.”

“Betcha never thought that would be the case.”

“Actually, I thought you’d either be coming home drunk and waking us up in the middle of the night, or playing loud music. You’re a much easier houseguest than I’d imagined. Not that I’ve ever had a houseguest before.”

“You’re doing a good job of being host. Although I have to inform you, your breakfast cereal both sucks and blows.”

“It’s really healthy.” Jasper said it like he was trying to convince himself. “Sets you up for the day.”

“Nah, what would set me up would be a nice bowl of Coco Pops or Frosties. Or Golden Grahams. Those are good.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve never had them? You haven’t lived, Jasper my man. Tell you what, I’m off down the supermarket. Gotta get me a few bits and pieces, and while I’m there, I’ll pick up some proper sugar-rush cereal. You can totally blame me if Lewis flips.”

Jasper grinned back at him. “Do you want a lift?”

“Nah. Exercise’ll do me good, since I’m not burning off all my energy dancing and shagging.” Mas gulped down his tea extra fast and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Jasper’s gaze seemed to get stuck somewhere around Mas’s lips for a moment, so he couldn’t resist trying a sultry smile just to see what the reaction would be.

Jasper looked away. “I’m taking this through to Lewis. See you in the morning, then.”

Totally Lewis’s man now. Just a couple of weeks ago, that thought would have given him a pang, but strangely enough, Mas felt okay about it now. Must be the effect of living up close and personal with the two of them. Familiarity breeding contempt and all that.

How long was it going to take for that to happen with Perry?

Fuck knew. But best to enjoy it before the crush faded. Mas set off down the hill whistling.

Eight o’clock starts at Crowther’s had always pissed Mas off no end—especially on a Saturday or a Sunday when he was still hanging from the night before. But today was different. He shouldn’t have felt such a buzz considering he’d just had his first celibate Saturday night in God knew how long. Perhaps it was simply the lack of any alcohol still sloshing around in his blood, or the fact he’d actually managed eight hours sleep, but whatever the reason, Mas’s morning brightened even further when Perry opened the door. The man was head to toe in a chocolate-brown houndstooth, and it really shouldn’t have worked but with the cream linen shirt and claret silk waistcoat, the whole thing really popped. He wolf whistled and watched the stain creep across Perry’s cheeks.

“Looking hot today, Perrykins. I’m gonna have to raid the stock before I get started if I’ve got any hope of being noticed next to you. But maybe after I’ve done the heavy lifting.”

“Heavy lifting? I didn’t realise.” Perry looked down at his outfit in dismay.

“Yep, heavy lifting for me, though. You don’t need to get involved. Just go do whatever it is you normally do at this time on a Sunday. I don’t know, paint a skeleton or make some creepy little fairies or something.”

“Well, if you’re quite sure.”

“I’m sure,” Mas insisted. This would all go a lot smoother with Perry temporarily out of the way. He’d had another talk with Jasper and Lewis after his return from the supermarket—complete with a bag of Jasper’s favourite cinnamon swirl pastries and a disgustingly healthy-looking muesli flapjack for Lewis to butter them both up—and he was sure he could rely on them honouring their word. “Now scram. I’ve got work to be getting on with.”

He rubbed his hands and looked around him. Where to begin? There was so much that needed doing, but for the next little while, he was going to clear himself out a kitchen and bathroom.

Half an hour later and Mas had moved a large quantity of bags of clothing out to the back garden. These were the ones Perry had said needed fixing before they could go on sale, and after having a peek at a few of the items, Mas had to agree. They could be sold now at a bargain price, but with a little care and attention, they could fetch an awful lot more. Problem was, all Mas could manage with a needle and thread was to sew the odd button back on again, and it never looked very good from the other side. Shit, was he going to have to learn to mend clothes properly? Tailoring really wasn’t his thing. He was more into wearing than repairing.

But the kitchen and bathroom were now just about usable. There was running water in both, and the drains all seemed to be in working order. Mas had even found a stock of toilet paper under a kitsch knitted ballerina, and despite being slightly damp, it was still okay for an emergency. Once upon a time, someone had clearly loved these rooms. It was there in the details: the crystal handles on the end of the light pull. The spice rack above the stove, carefully painted to match the kitchen cupboards. The scrubbed wood work surface, scarred with knife marks but still in good condition.