Stuff (The Bristol Collection) (14 page)

Perry shook his head. “Anything goes missing, and I’ll take it out of your share of the takings.”

He’d thought Mas would be put out, but instead he just smiled breezily. “Perfect. Now you just keep out of the way and let me do my thing, okay?”

The day passed much like the previous one, with a few subtle changes. Perry was still watching Mas like a hawk, but this time he couldn’t tell himself it was to check up that Mas knew what he was doing. That was obvious enough already. The man knew all about fine clothing, and he had a natural way with the customers that made them open up, laughing and pulling out their wallets. No, today Perry was watching for aesthetic reasons. Mas drew his eye. Even in jeans and a T-shirt—neither of which were garments Perry had any particular fondness for—Mas captivated him. It was the way he moved, with that confident surety and easy grace. It was the lean beauty of his body. It was the warmth of his smile and merry eyes.

Perry had a problem.

It was hard to see it as a problem, though, when it was just an artist’s appreciation. He didn’t really want to take it any further, did he? The idea was too frightening. Dangerous, unexplored territory.

No, he could keep his interest satisfied just by looking. Perhaps he could even persuade Mas to sit for a portrait, although the idea of him being still for longer than a minute was ludicrous. Maybe if he was asleep…

A vision of Mas naked, sprawled across Perry’s sheets painted itself across the canvas of his mind. Oh God. His blood pumped harder, his body responding with a rush of heady lust.

Perry excused himself from the shop and took himself up to his workroom. He leaned over his desk, breathing heavily, resisting the urge to take himself in hand and deal with his excitement that way. He could fight it. He didn’t have to be a slave to his body. The mind was in control and had power of veto.

Although one thing was for sure: he’d need a longer jacket if he was going to keep imagining scenarios like that.

Chapter Fifteen

When the last customer left, crappy recycled carrier bag in hand, Mas flipped the sign to CLOSED and took the door off the latch. There was another lock that needed securing, but Perry had the keys. And Perry had rushed off upstairs like he was about to throw up.

He wasn’t bulimic, was he? It might explain how skinny he was, and he certainly wouldn’t be the first bloke Mas had met who had a difficult relationship with food.

He was standing by the door to upstairs, debating whether to head on up there and see if he could help out, when the door burst open and Perry blundered out, straight into him.

Perry leapt back as if he’d just touched a live wire. “Oh, forgive me. I didn’t realise you were just there.”

“It’s fine.” Mas clocked the dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. Perry didn’t look like a man who’d just been throwing up. He looked like a man who’d visited the bathroom for entirely different, and far more interesting, reasons. Intriguing. “Are you okay?” He placed his hand on Perry’s arm, watching his reaction closely. “I was wondering if I should have come up and offered to help?”

“No, I was fine. Quite all right. Just a bit of a, erm, dicky tummy. But I’m fine now. Quite all right.”

“You just said that.”

“Right. Well then, you know that I am.” Perry appeared to grow taller and yanked his arm away. “I need to cash up. And now the customers are gone, you can get on with whatever it is you want to do to those windows.”

Mas watched as Perry scurried through to the front room and removed the drawer from the ancient cash register. “I’m taking this upstairs,” he announced.

“You did it down here yesterday.” Mas leaned against the edge of the counter, blocking up most of the space so Perry would have to brush past him if he wanted to get out.

“Yes, but I don’t want to get in your way while you’re working.”

“Nah, you’re no trouble. I like the company, truth be told.”

Perry’s eyes widened. Mas stuck his hands in his pockets, casually framing his package.

Perry’s eyes flicked down. Up again. His Adam’s apple bobbed like crazy. Someone was exceedingly nervous. If Mas stepped into his personal space right now, how would Perry react? Chances were he’d either lash out or run away, but there was always the possibility he might give in to the attraction he felt. Mas could taste it on the air.

While the urge to toy and tease was there, Mas made himself step back and give Perry some space. “I was about to lock up, but I don’t have the key.”

“Oh, of course.” Perry stumbled as he rounded the counter, and his arm trembled as he yanked his keys out of his pocket. “I suppose I should hunt down the extra set. I think I might have put them in with a box of old keys upstairs. Never thought I’d need them.”

“You never thought you might have a partner?”

“No. I always thought I’d be a confirmed bachelor. It used to be a perfectly respectable thing to be. No one expected you to pair up.”

“It used to be a euphemism for being gay.”

Perry dropped the keys. “I’m not…that way inclined. I’d know by now if I was.” His words were muffled as he groped around on the floor looking for his keys.

Mas knelt down and picked them up from under his nose. “Looking for these?”

“Oh. Thank you.” Perry’s voice trembled. Shit. Mas wanted to reach out and hug him. Tell him it was okay to find out which way you swung later on in life, but he looked too much like a frightened deer, ready to bolt.

“You know, when I said partner, I actually meant business partner. Which is what I’m going to be. I’m not angling for anything else, so you don’t need to worry. If you say you’re straight, I’ll totally respect that.”
Even if I don’t believe a word of it.
“I might be a bit of a tart, but I’m not into pushing my way in where I’m not wanted. You ever feel like exploring whether you’re not as straight as you thought, I’ll happily help out any way I can. Just talking it through or whatever. But until then, you’re perfectly safe with me. Honest. I might go gaga for the sexually aggressive, caveman approach in other guys, but I’m not like that myself.”

Perry’s agitation seemed to ease off a little, but his hand still shook. “Now why don’t you let me lock up?” Mas continued. “I should keep these keys down here anyway. Might want to head out later. Let off some steam dancing or something.”

“You’re right. Of course. I wasn’t thinking. Here.” Perry fumbled with the keys, removing four and handing them to Mas. “These are for the front and back doors, and this is for the padlock on the security shutter. You have to let yourself in around the back after locking that one.”

Mas peered at the keys in his hand, trying to remember which was which. “And the others?”

“They’re for upstairs. I’ll keep these ones.”

“So I can’t go wandering around up there while you’re asleep? Fair enough I suppose, but if I could get up there tomorrow sometime and have a look around for display stuff, that would be great.”

“Of course, tomorrow. Oh, and I should pay you.” Perry’s eyes slanted over towards the counter. “I’ll cash up down here.”

Mas smiled to himself as Perry made his way back to the cash register. There, he could behave himself like a gentleman. Lewis would be so proud of him.

Three hours later, and Mas was too knackered to head on out dancing like he’d thought he would. He’d started cleaning the kitchen and bathroom so he could cook something and have a bath before heading out, but the task was bigger than he’d imagined. He couldn’t bring himself to just do a half-arsed job, and once he’d cleaned the bath and stove top, they made everything else look dingy in comparison. But now both rooms were as gleaming as a bottle of Cif, a packet of sponge scourers and a whole load of elbow grease could get them.

Fuck it. He’d run a bath and then go online. It could be a cosy evening, camping out in the back room of the shop.

What he hadn’t bargained on was the crappy water pressure meaning the bath took an age to run. He ended up taking a quick dip in the lukewarm water, changing into some trackie bottoms and a T-shirt, and then starting up the laptop.

No Wi-Fi. Of course. Mr. Traditional upstairs didn’t even have a computer, did he? Doing all this on his phone would make things so much more fiddly. There was probably a way he could connect the thing to the laptop and use the Internet that way, but he didn’t much fancy trying to figure out how all by himself. Maybe Perry would be able to help, although given his total lack of interest in modern technology, Mas found that hard to imagine.

But even if Perry couldn’t help, it would be nice to have his company. What would he be doing right now? Creating one of his weird little artworks? Reading a book? Sitting out on his little roof terrace, staring up at the night sky? Mas could climb the fire escape and find out, but if Perry was in his flat, the sound of someone clambering around on the roof would probably give him a heart attack.

No, he should stay down here and be a bloody gentleman like he’d promised.

So it was that on half-past nine on a Sunday night, Mas found himself sitting on a camp bed in a shop that smelled of mothballs, staring at a locked door and longing for the company of the man behind it.

Chapter Sixteen

Sunday night was a restless one for Perry. He woke up painfully hard several times, sheets knotted around his ankles. His dreams were a jumbled mix of sensations and extreme close-ups, and when he eventually gave in and took himself in hand to chase his release, dawn was already spilling silvery light through his windows. He tried not to imagine anything. Just concentrated on the touch of his own hand, sure and practised. He definitely didn’t want to picture anyone else’s lips stretched around him. Their throat opening up to welcome him. Their stubble rasping against his balls.

Oh shit. Not that. Just his hand. He was alone.

He grunted into the pillow as his seed spurted over his hand. This was bloody ridiculous, waking in the night like a horny teenager all over again. He was twenty-five, for crying out loud. He should have taken Cherise up on her offer. He should probably call around tomorrow and arrange to see her this week if Jamela was better. He had just enough money after their successful weekend in the shop, although really he should be putting that towards his electricity arrears. And the gas board wouldn’t even think about reconnecting him until he started making good on his back-dated bills from three years ago.

Was this what Aunt Betty had meant when she set out to give him an education in how ordinary people lived? It all seemed so much more mundane and oh so very uncomfortable than Perry had ever imagined. But it was better than the alternative. Anything was better than that.

Perry pulled himself together and got ready for a day in his workshop. Monday. His weekend.

But when he got down to the first floor, he paused outside the workshop door. It was very quiet downstairs. Was Mas even there? Or had he gone home with someone last night after his little excursion? Or maybe he’d brought someone back with him. Perry’s stomach lurched. Mas wouldn’t have, would he? He’d know how that would make Perry feel. But then again, it wasn’t as if Perry had explicitly forbidden him from inviting anyone over. He should check. Make sure everything was locked securely. That no one was nosing around who shouldn’t be.

He opened the door at the bottom of the stairs cautiously, his heart somewhere up in his throat. Soft snoring noises came from the corner of the room. Perry tiptoed across the floor. Mas lay sprawled on his back on the narrow camping bed, his legs cocooned in the sleeping bag but his arms flung out, one up above his head, the other trailing on the floor.

It didn’t look terribly comfortable. Guilt yanked Perry’s heartstrings. Perhaps he should invite Mas to come and sleep upstairs. His bed was wide enough for two.

Although that would probably be a terrible mistake.

He was hovering, trying not to imagine what exactly could go wrong with that plan in vivid, graphic detail, when Mas snorted and his eyes fluttered open. Oh God, and Perry was spying on him. He froze, mortified.

“Hey.” Mas smiled sleepily, clearly not spooked by Perry standing over him like some kind of creepy, peeping-Tom landlord. “Whassa time?” He yawned lavishly, and Perry couldn’t help giving a little yawn himself in sympathy. “Do I need to get to work already?”

“No. Of course not. I do apologise. I just wanted to check everything down here was locked securely after you got in last night.”

“Mmm? Oh, it will be. I didn’t go out in the end.”

“You didn’t?” Perry’s spirits rose hearing that, which just wasn’t right, was it? He should be wanting Mas to go out and have fun. “You should have done. You worked hard yesterday.”

“Yeah.” Mas swung round and sat on the edge of the bed, still half-swaddled in red nylon. “That was the problem. Too knackered in the end. Was going to take a bath to revive me, but there wasn’t any hot water.”

“Oh. No, of course not. I’m sorry. You’ll have to come upstairs for that. I’ve got an immersion heater up there.”

“Cool. You got enough water left for me to have a shower? I’m fucking minging after all that hauling stuff around yesterday.” Mas wrinkled his nose, then began to stand, pushing the sleeping bag down and revealing naked legs. He scratched his stomach lazily, the T-shirt riding up to reveal a pair of tangerine-coloured, exceedingly skimpy underpants.