Stuff (The Bristol Collection) (7 page)

Perry didn’t answer, but Mas took a step closer. “It’s okay, you know. My mate Jasper I was talking about the other day? He used to be a major hoarder. You know, like worse than some of those poor sods you see on the telly. And his boyfriend works as a clutter clearer. Bet there’s nothing up there that could shock me. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen it all. Unflappable, that’s me.”

Clearly Mas’s definition of unflappable was somewhat different to Perry’s, as he’d certainly got himself in a bit of a flap over Angel Albert the other day, as well as that panic attack he’d had in the back of the shop. But then again, he’d quickly rallied. And perhaps overexcitability was just a way of life for him.

“You wouldn’t be bothered by more weird sculptures?”

“Not on your nelly. I love weird shit. I won’t even raise an eyebrow. Cross my heart and hope to lose my looks.”

“I thought it was ‘hope to die’.”

“There are some fates worse than death. I mean, seriously, can you see me as a bear? I wouldn’t last five minutes with that lot.”

“A bear?”

Mas threw his hands up in exasperation, but he was still smiling. “You live in the only city in the UK with a dedicated bears’ bar, and you don’t know what a bear is?”

“Is it a homosexual thing? Because I’m not gay, remember.”

“So says you. But yeah, it’s a big old flaming homo thing. Large hairy men get called bears, but it’s more than just being a bit furry. It’s a whole cultural identity based around warm beer and lumberjack shirts, as far as I can see.” Mas sniffed disdainfully.

“There’s nothing wrong with warm beer. Ale is meant to be served at room temperature.”

“Darling, you wouldn’t get anything less sophisticated than a mai tai past these lips. I like my drinks in tall glasses with umbrellas and fruit in the top. Or in mugs. How’s about that cuppa, then?”

Was there any point resisting? Mas had been all right so far with what he’d seen of Perry’s abode. Perhaps it would be good to get another pair of eyes to look things over. And if Mas did freak out, well, it wouldn’t really matter, would it? It wasn’t like they were friends or anything.

Although Perry couldn’t recall a time in his life he’d ever offered a cup of tea to someone. He hoped his mugs were both clean.

Chapter Seven

When Perry locked the front door and led the way through to the back of the shop, Mas pumped his fist in victory. But he didn’t cheer, because Perry looked kind of jumpy, and he didn’t want to give the poor sod any reason to rethink his decision.

They didn’t go all the way back to the kitchen and up the fire escape like Mas had been expecting, though. Instead, in the second room—what Mas liked to think of as the furniture store—Perry pulled back a few greatcoats hanging on a rack, revealing a door behind them. “Ooh, secret door. I like it. And behind clothes too. This doesn’t lead to Narnia, does it?”

“Narnia?”

“You know,
The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
and all that.”

“I didn’t think anyone still read those. You must be, what, nineteen?”

“Twenty-two, thank you very much.” Mas drew himself up to his full five foot five. But he couldn’t really be indignant, because looking young was what it was all about, wasn’t it? And he still got asked for ID all the bloody time when buying drinks. “You know, they did make them all into films, or did you miss that up in your ivory castle? And anyway, I didn’t read them myself, but my mum read all kinds of weird shit to me when I was a nipper.
Pilgrim’s-
bloody
-Progress
gave me nightmares for years. Think those Narnia ones were approved by her church or something.”

“Oh, so you’re religious?”

Perry looked like you could have knocked him over with a feather boa, and even though he usually changed the subject if churchy stuff came up, Mas figured he’d share a little of his own embarrassing background. After all, Perry was about to show Mas his inner sanctum, wasn’t he? “I don’t believe in all that churchy bollocks, but Mum’s a bit of a religious nutcase. She tried out pretty much anything while I was growing up. Methodists, Baptists, Quakers, Catholic—we never spent more than a couple of years going to one place before she’d moved on to the next big thing. Then the Jehovah’s Witnesses got her, and she’s been under their control for the past five years.” Mas could feel himself scowling and made an effort to wipe it away. “Still, gotta look on the bright side, at least she’s not in one of those weirdy suicide cults, right?”

“Umm, I don’t think they’re all that common over here. Or even in America.”

“Nope, but you can bet your lucky underpants if there was one locally, Mum’d find her way there somehow. Shame she never got in with any of them snake handlers, though. Always thought that would have been more fun. You know, handling snakes. I do enjoy getting a firm grasp of the one-eyed trouser variety.” Mas winked and made a wanking gesture, just for the fun of watching Perry blush.

And to change the subject too. But that was an ulterior motive.

Result, though. Perry turned around and led him through the doorway and into a narrow staircase made of bare wooden boards hemmed in by walls that seriously needed a fresh coat of paint. Daylight spilled down from an unseen window somewhere up above, but at the bottom, it was pretty dim.

He hadn’t been all that bothered about seeing the upstairs earlier, but Perry’s sheer caginess about it all had Mas intrigued. What was it Lewis had said? Yep, he’d diagnosed Mas as having a thing for unobtainable men. Bloody nonsense. Mas had a thing for all kinds of men—even bears, despite not wanting to join their ranks—it’s just that the mysterious ones piqued his interest. Okay, so maybe he had a thing for them. Damn, was he going to have to admit that to Lewis next time he saw him? The smug git would probably offer him counselling to help him get over it.

Mas didn’t want to get over anything. Except perhaps Perry’s conviction that he was straight. Yeah, it would be fun to bounce right over that and land in Perry’s bed, legs akimbo. But it wasn’t likely to happen. Not without a hell of a lot of careful seduction, and that really wasn’t Mas’s style. He preferred to just make it obvious he was up for it, then leave it in the other guy’s court. Was that a tennis phrase? And did that make Mas the ballboy? He did love getting his hands on a nice pair of balls, after all.

Mas’s attention was only pulled away from daydreams of fondling bollocks when Perry walked straight past the door on the first floor. “You not going to show me your workshop, then?”

“What? How did you…” Perry halted and turned to face him.

“You told me yesterday. When we were up on the roof. Yeah, I know I might come across as a himbo, but I do remember most of what people tell me. You never know when stuff’s going to come in handy, do you? Always good to have a bit of blackmail material when you need it.” Mas winked just in case Perry took him seriously.

Perry looked puzzled by the very notion. “I don’t tend to notice much. About people, I mean.”

“You’re telling me.”

“But I do remember you wanted tea, and the kettle’s upstairs.”

“Lead on, then. I’ll worm a workshop visit out of you later.”

Perry shook his head and looked like he was about to speak, but then turned on his heel and carried on upstairs. While they were heading up, Mas checked out his outfit. The trousers weren’t as tight as before, but they were tweedy and full length, and he was wearing a collarless shirt with rolled up sleeves and a cute little brown leather waistcoat. More like one of the servants in Downton Abbey than a pirate. All he needed was a flat cap. And to lose the haughty attitude. He was definitely more lord and master than humble help.

Mas realised they’d reached their destination when he bumped into Perry, who’d come to a stop on the top step before a door. “I’m warning you,” Perry announced, turning the key in the lock, “it’s a little odd in there.”

“I should bloody well hope so. Seriously. I get bored with seeing the same old IKEA stuff in everyone’s flats. Gets boring really quickly. Did you know they’ve got a wardrobe called Dumbarse? They spell it all funny with those little circles on top of the letters, but it’s still Dumbarse. My mates Trevor and Alan got one just for the giggles.”

“There’s definitely no IKEA in here.” Perry paused for a moment, muttered something under his breath, then opened the door.

“Oh. My. God.”

Mas had been expecting clutter and darkness. He’d seen pictures of Jasper’s house before Lewis had got to work on it, and heard tales of the other clients Lewis worked with. He’d steeled himself for more of the chaotic fleamarket vibe from below.

But what he’d wandered into was a fairy tale.

The top floor of the building was one large room with sloping walls and dormer windows lining both sides. Light bounced around the room, reflected off hundreds of tiny mirrors and crystals. Things hung suspended in the air. It took a few moments for Mas to grasp what he was seeing. He stepped farther in, and the slowly turning, glinting thing closest to him resolved itself into a fairy. It hung from the end of a thin, transparent thread, and it wore a brown outfit of some sort. The overall impression was more of an autumn leaf than a Disney version of a fairy. The thing revolved round, and Mas caught a glimpse of its face.

“Fucking hell!” He jumped back in fright and blinked away the eerily lifelike vision of sharp teeth set in an evil, beady-eyed face. “That is one seriously creepy fairy.” As his heart rate calmed down, he stepped forward for a closer look. The head appeared to be made out of some kind of modelling clay, and the eyes were tiny shards of mirror. The body was a mishmash of wire and old hessian, by the looks of it. It was an amazing amount of detail for something no larger than one of Mas’s hands.

“You made this?” he asked, reaching out and gently prodding the fairy so he—she?—swung back around to face the other way.

“I made all of them.” Perry’s voice was so low it was almost a whisper, and Mas focused back on the wider picture. The other hanging creations were a mixture of more fairies, along with birds and insects. Some of the animals had mechanical pieces mixed in, like they were a strange hybrid of animal and machine. But nothing looked modern—everything was in shades of brown, bronze and rust, occasionally embellished with sparkling gems, pearls or chips of mirror. And Perry’s creations weren’t just limited to hanging miniatures. There were strange hybrid creatures and spooky-looking things lurking on the walls too. Stags’ heads wearing goggles. Clockwork geckos climbing. There didn’t seem to be any furniture in the room other than a pale linen hammock chair over in one corner, a painted chest of drawers and a low bed in the other. There wasn’t much colour what with the walls and floorboards painted cream and the cream bed linen. Even the cabinets of the little kitchenette were painted in a neutral, creamy kind of colour. The tiles, though—they were another story. A cream-and-bronze mosaic swirl filled in the space between the work surface and the cabinets, and the whole thing shimmered. Mas took a step closer and saw the tiles themselves were flecked with a dusting of gold.

“Best studio flat EVER,” Mas announced. “And I’m not even trying to exaggerate there. Seriously. This place is gert lush. I can’t believe you never have anyone up here. Are you honestly telling me I’m the first?”

Perry flushed, but there was a small smile on his face as he confirmed it. “You’re the first.”

“Wow. I’m honoured. Thanks, mate.” And despite the awkward body language and seriously mixed signals Perry was giving off, Mas bounded over and hugged him as tight as he could. Perry stiffened, but he didn’t try to move away. Mas smiled to himself and tucked his head into the crook of Perry’s neck. Perfect resting height. He did love it when guys were tall enough for him to do that. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the scent of leather and man. “You don’t have to be embarrassed by your flat being a bit different,” he said. “This is the most gorgeously weird room I’ve ever been into.” At that, Perry’s body lost most of its tension, and a tentative pair of arms came out to hold him.

“Thank you,” Perry said, and this time his voice was just that little bit louder and more confident.

They stood like that for what felt like ages, but eventually Perry wriggled and Mas let go. “So, you going to get the kettle on?” he asked, trying to put Perry at ease. At the moment, he was moving like one of his creatures would if it came to life, all jerky and mechanical.

“Kettle. Erm, yes. Of course.”

Mas watched as Perry took a cream enamelled kettle off the two-ring hot plate and filled it up at the tap. “You know you can get electric ones of those these days,” he teased, because an electric kettle with disco lights in it like the one he owned would look more out of place here than a monk on the dance floor at OMG on a Friday night.

“I like whistling kettles.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. You really are a weird one, you know that? I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

Perry’s cheeks flamed redder, and he muttered something as he began gathering together the tea supplies like he was planning a military campaign. Mas backed off to give him some space, and went on a tour of the room. It was bizarre just how different it was up here to downstairs. Why couldn’t Perry lavish the same care and attention on his shop as he did on his creatures? Did he really not have a retail management bone in his body?