Stuff (The Bristol Collection) (21 page)

Jasper pulled up next to him and wound down the window. “Want to go for a walk?”

“Not particularly. It’s bloody freezing.”

“It’s a beautiful morning.”

“If you say so.”

“Hey, what’s up?” The car door opened, and moments later, Mas was enveloped in a hug. He let himself fall against Jasper and bury his face in horrible knitwear.

“I’ve screwed everything up, and now I think he’s going to hate me. And I really love the stuck-up bastard, not that he’d probably give a flying fuck. I’m too trendy and modern for him. He’d rather I was some kind of character in one of them old books or something. You know, the tortured, waifish Victorian urchin. You think I could carry that look off? He’s probably got the right clothes for it.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Mas sniffed back the tears and moved so he could see Jasper’s face. He had an excellent view right up his nostrils. “You need to trim your nose hair, you know.”

“Stop changing the subject. What’s all this about being in love with someone?”

“You’re a bastard, you know that? I don’t actually want to talk about it.”

“Of course you do. You always want to talk. And you texted me to meet you precisely so you could talk about it. I wouldn’t have come out this early if you hadn’t made it sound like a matter of life and death.”

“Nah. I just wanted a cuddle from someone who loves me just the way I am. But that’s okay. I’m not quite pathetic enough to need it or anything.” Mas attempted to push away, but Jasper’s arms gripped him tighter.

“Something’s clearly bothering you, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

“Been taking lessons from your boyfriend in the art of interrogation, have you?” Mas grumbled while staring at the mesmerising march of fair isle dragons and Celtic knots across Jasper’s top. “And did he buy you this jumper, because I’ve gotta say, I thought he had better taste than that. It looks like something a colourblind granny would wear, and the patterns are too busy for you. You need something more simple and classic. You should come in the shop. I’ll get you kitted out.”

“You’re changing the subject again, but since you asked, Lewis hates this jumper every bit as much as you do.”

“Ooh, trouble in paradise?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re wearing it on purpose to annoy him.”

“I’m not! It’s just warm, and I didn’t have much time to get ready. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand.”

“We seriously need to work on your wardrobe. You should see Perry’s. It’s every young gay boy’s dream come true. Well, except yours, obviously. Not that you’re technically all that young anymore.” And he shouldn’t have mentioned Perry, because that set off a pang like a rubber band snapping against his heart.

“Perry. So how are things going with him?”

“All right, all right. I’ll tell you about the bastard. And how did you know it was him, anyway?”

Jasper sighed. “Just call it male intuition. Or maybe it’s because you weren’t able to stop talking about him when Lewis called in on you the other day.”

Bugger. “So Lewis has been telling tales, has he? Always knew he was a bit of a gossip really. And yep, it is Perry, thank you very much. And he’s totally not worth it. Except he is, but he just doesn’t go for camp little scene queens like me.”

“Stop labelling yourself. You’re a nice bloke. But Mas…” Jasper pulled an expression like he’d just stubbed his toe and was trying not to swear his head off. “You can’t really be in love with him. You’ve only known him a few days.”

“Seven, actually, but who’s counting? And if it isn’t love, what is it?”

“Lust? Infatuation? Wanting what you can’t have?”

“It’s a bit of all of those, but there’s more too. I can’t stop thinking about him. When he smiles—fuck, when he even just looks at me—I get all warm inside. And he’s a really nice bloke to spend time with, even when we’re not shagging.”

“You’re sleeping with him? Your boss? Oh, Mas.”

“Fuck’s sake. You’re the one who went and slept with his bleedin’ therapist.”

Jasper coloured. “Lewis wasn’t my therapist. He was my clutter counsellor. It’s an entirely different thing.”

“Pull the other one, mate, it’s got bells on. And anyway, I’m not so sure Perry is my boss. It’s not like there’s any official contract or anything. And he might not even want me around the place anymore, after last night. And this morning.”

Jasper took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How about we go and get a coffee, and you can tell me all about it. There’s a little studenty café just down the hill.”

“I’d rather have a cuppa.”

“Fine. I’m sure they do tea as well as coffee.”

“And I haven’t got any money on me. Just warning you.”

“My shout. I’m sure I can stretch to breakfast too, if you’re hungry.”

“You’re a fucking lifesaver. Thanks, mate.”

On the way down the hill, Mas nattered on about the cool things he’d found in the storeroom, and it wasn’t long before they were tucked in at a little table in a place that was half greasy spoon, half hippie heaven. They had a wooden Buddha standing guard over the table of ketchup and cutlery, for crying out loud. Mas didn’t know whether to laugh or take notes for his next window display.

“You going to tell me all about it, then?”

Mas sighed. “S’pose I’ll have to if you’re going to be like that. Can’t a man keep any secrets?”

“You can’t.”

“Maybe not.” Mas glanced around. The café was quiet in terms of customers, and the woman behind the counter must have had a hearing problem as the local radio station was turned up loud. At least it gave Mas some cover so he didn’t feel like everyone was listening in. He gave Jasper a rundown of the previous couple of day’s events, not stinting on the graphic details.

“I really didn’t need to know that,” Jasper said a few times when Mas gave him particularly juicy tidbits, but it was all relevant, wasn’t it?

“You do. Best sex of my life, it was. I’m now going to be totally spoilt for anyone else. And it’s a total bugger, because he’s really not into my type. I was just his training wheels. He’ll be wanting a proper grown-up bike of a boyfriend next. Or maybe not a bike at all. What if he wants a Ferrari or something? Or a Rolls Royce? He’s pretty posh.”

“What makes you think you’re not his type? He’s clearly attracted to you.”

“You should have seen his face this morning when I let on about wanting to be a ballerina when I was little. And then he asked me if I still wear sparkly makeup, and it wasn’t like I could deny it.”

“You don’t normally have a problem telling, uh, tall tales.”

Mas gave Jasper the evil eye. “I was trying to make a point about how I wasn’t ashamed to be who I am, but that I don’t see the need to go round telling everyone I’m gay. He’s got this thing now, like he’s had his first taste of cock and has to go announce it to the world. I don’t want him getting beaten up by a bunch of homophobic thugs. And, you know, I don’t want some other stud stealing him away from me either.”

“So what did he say about the makeup?”

“He didn’t say anything! He just looked at me like I was something nasty that had got stuck to the bottom of his shoe.”

“Show me the look.”

There was a mirror right behind Jasper’s head, so he did his best to replicate what he’d seen in Perry’s face that morning by imagining stepping in a particularly humming dog turd.

Jasper watched for a moment, sipping his coffee. “And how do you know this was in reaction to the makeup?”

“Well, duh. I’d just finished talking about it. It couldn’t have been anything else, could it?”

“Could have been if you don’t know what he was thinking at the time. Could have been he was disgusted with himself for having thought something nasty about men in makeup in the past. You’ll never know until you ask him.”

“I’m not going to ask him!”

“Why ever not?”

“Because!”

“That’s really not a defensible argument. You need to give a reason you can back up with evidence.”

“Well, excuse me for not having been on the debating team at school. And for going to a school that didn’t even have one, as far as I remember.”

“Mas, just talk to the man. I think you’re overreacting. He’s probably just shell-shocked because you rocked his world. I wouldn’t go reading volumes into every last facial expression. Maybe that’s just the way he looks when he’s, erm, feeling excited.”

“Nah, trust me, he has a very different sort of expression when he’s got the horn.”

“And you know what that is, and he’s had it over you. So give him a chance and talk to him before doing the storming-off thing.”

Mas stared down into his tea. “Was I being a total drama queen again?”

“A bit of one. A drama princess, perhaps.”

“Honestly, I think a princess might be worse. Less serene and more bitchy, I imagine. Fuck. You might be right, you know. Maybe I should just get out the makeup and see how he reacts. I could wear it in the shop.”

“Maybe save it for parties. It’s a bit…extreme.”

Mas grinned, remembering Jasper’s expression the time Mas had turned up at his and Lewis’s place on his way to a party. “It’s only a bit of lip gloss and guy-liner. And gold eyeshadow. I’m sure he can handle it. I could wear my tutu as well. And my feather boa.” Mas had a wide variety of silly costume bits for parties, and had turned up as Dr. Frank-N-Furter on more than one occasion. “I’ve still got those fishnets, although I think they’re a bit laddered now.”

“Do not wear the fishnets. Or the tutu.”

“Like I’m about to take fashion advice from you, ugly-jumper man!”

And then they were both smiling, and all of a sudden Mas thought that maybe this could be all right. This whatever-it-was him and Perry had going on. It had to be worth a shot.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Perry had planned to leave it a couple of hours before heading over to Cherise’s, but seeing as how he couldn’t settle to anything, he ended up heading over at half eight. She’d be up, wouldn’t she? Parents of young children were always complaining about how early they had to get up, like it was some kind of terrible inconvenience to be up and about in the best part of the day.

What Perry had forgotten about was the school run. When he arrived at her house, Cherise was bustling out of the door, two boys in identical blue bomber jackets leaping around her tiny front garden, and a girl—Jamela—clinging to her coat. He almost turned back. This was overstepping the boundaries, surely? There was no way Cherise would want one of her clients interfering in her family life like that. But then she lifted her head, spotted him and broke into a tired smile.

“Just what I need. An extra pair of hands. Could you walk with Tyrone and Leroy? Jamela’s going back to nursery today, and she’s a bit clingy. Think I’ll have my hands full with her.”

“Errr, okay.” Perry eyed the two balls of energy currently flinging themselves off the low stone wall and giggling wildly. “Do you think they’ll stay with me?”

“Ty, Lee? This is Mama’s friend Perry. You’re to hold his hands and cross the road with him, all right? Any running off and there’ll be no TV after school.”

The two boys grumbled, but moments later, sticky fingers grasped each of Perry’s hands, and he stared down at the two virtually identical corn-rowed heads. “Hello,” he said, wondering if he should talk in that weird baby voice most adults used with children. In the end, he decided to talk just as he would with anyone else. “I hope you know the way, because I haven’t a clue.”

“Din’t you go to school or nuffin’?” one of them demanded.

“I did indeed, but not around here. And I didn’t have to walk there either.”

“Cool. Did you go by bus? Or did you have a car?”

“When I was young, I went by car, but when I was older, I lived at the school during the week and just came home for the weekends.”

“People don’t live at school. Mama, he said he used to live at school.”

“Did you go to Hogwarts?” the other boy—Tyrone?—asked, turning wide brown eyes up at him.

“Not exactly, but it was quite similar in some ways, although we didn’t learn any actual magic. But we learnt other fascinating things.”

“Like what?”

And so Perry found himself drawn into a strangely enjoyable conversation, which managed to distract him from obsessing over Mas, and fifteen minutes later, after a quick detour to Jamela’s nursery, he was waving fondly at the two boys as they disappeared into their classrooms.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Cherise said, leaning against him. “You’d make a good dad, you know that?”

“Hardly. I never know what to say to children.”

“You seemed to do all right, from what I saw. And you’re not drunk or high, which can’t be said for their sperm donor. That bastard’s a total waste of space. So, what was it that brought you round this morning? It’s not your usual day.”

“Oh. I, err… Could we talk about it somewhere quieter?” The school playground was crowded with parents, a fair few of whom were eyeing him with barely disguised interest. “Someone might overhear.”