The Square Peg (7 page)

that involves a lot of throwing things and fighting.”

“We’ve done that too,” Benedict pointed out with a small smile. He held up his

left hand. “So where’s my ring?”

“I was under the impression we can’t afford one,” Shane said. “Speaking of which,

how is it you can leave your office job in the middle of the day to come shout at me?

You’d better not get sacked. You’re the only one of us with a proper income.”

“I’d better be careful,” Benedict agreed. “I was planning on keeping my regular

job until we can turn this place around. I don’t want to think what would happen if I

didn’t have health insurance and I got sick.”

“Suffer like the rest of us.” Shane knew he was lucky to be healthy. He couldn’t

remember the last time he’d had anything worse than a mild head cold. “Is it

reasonable to think you’ll be able to manage two jobs?”

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“As reasonable as thinking we’ll be able to get this place to make a profit,”

Benedict said, then looked sorry he had. “No, don’t worry; we’ll figure it out. I think the

first thing we need to do is take a good hard look at our expenses and see where we can

cut costs. It’s possible we can save some money buying from a different wholesaler.

And I was thinking…”He hesitated.

“Go on, say it, whatever it is.”

“I was thinking, one way to cut costs is to eliminate staff.”

“No. No fucking way.” Shane knew he was getting up in Benedict’s face again, but

this wasn’t something he was prepared to allow. “We’re open seven days a week, and

we’ve got two shifts running. Even if I worked every day and most shifts—and hell,

some weeks I do—we can’t get by on less than we have. You haven’t seen us at the

weekend when it gets busy. We need three behind that bar, easy.”

“No, but I’ve been here twice and seen more people behind the bar than in front of

it.”

“In the day, midweek, yeah, it’s quiet, but we go laying people off, good people,

with experience, when we turn this place around and need more staff again, they won’t

come back. Why would they?” He counted off on his fingers. “Me, Vin, Dave, Shelly,

Patrick. That’s bare bones. How the hell can we cut any of them?”

“Well…” Benedict didn’t look convinced, but Shane stood his ground, knowing he

looked pugnacious, but not caring. They were his people, his friends. He could be tough

with them when needed—he was no pushover—but he knew them, and he wasn’t

sacking them. No fucking way. If this ship sank, they’d go down together.

“Right then, let me put it this way: I’m willing to bend like a fucking sapling when

you say things need to change, but there are a few things I won’t be able to compromise

on, and this is one of them. These people are Square Peg. They stay.” Shane folded his

arms over his chest.

“Okay, I get it.” Benedict leaned against the table, then rubbed a hand over the

back of his neck. “What are the other things?”

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“What?”

“The other things you can’t compromise about?”

“Well, I don’t know yet, do I? I won’t until the situations arise.”

Benedict gave him a suspicious look. “That’s convenient. No, I’m kidding, I

swear!” He was laughing now. “I’m sorry, I have a screwed-up sense of humor. I can’t

help it.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should try harder.” Shane winked as he said it, trusting

Benedict to get he was joking too. Christ, the man was appealing when he laughed.

“There are a few things I could work on,” Benedict agreed, smooth as silk. “Like

getting you to bend for me.”

Shane caught his breath, unsure how he was meant to take that. Normally, he

didn’t have to guess if a man was coming on to him. The hard-on straining the front of

their jeans, the hand grabbing his ass, and a slurred out “Wanna fuck?” weren’t easy to

misinterpret. Having his innocently meant words turned back at him like that,

though…

“Okay, well, my day at the office is shot, so I think we should take advantage of

the time and do some brainstorming, maybe divide up the stuff we need to look into.”

Benedict spoke as if nothing had just happened. Maybe it hadn’t. “If we’re going to plan

some renovations, we should talk about how much money we want to put into them—”

“How much you want to put into them,” Shane corrected him.

“Sure, whatever. We need lists. And to find someone qualified to do the

renovations but desperate enough to do them cheap.”

There, finally something Shane could do. “I know a bloke. Does good work, but

he’s on the dole right now. He’d be glad of the money.”

Benedict looked around as if seeing the flat for the first time. “Do you have a

notebook or something?”

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43

“Somewhere, sure.” Shane opened the kitchen drawer that held odds and ends,

and rummaged until he found a pad of paper. He’d bought it to write letters home to

his mum and sent maybe one or two before she’d asked why he didn’t just e-mail her,

because she’d had a computer for months. The drawer stuck as he tried to push it in,

and he shoved at it hard, then gave up. “Needs tidying,” he told Benedict, who was

standing by the kitchen table, politely waiting for an invitation to sit. “And the table

needs wiping.”

“Mmm.” Benedict didn’t comment directly, but the look of relief on his face when

the table had been cleaned told its own story.

They settled down, with Benedict producing a slender silver pen from his jacket

pocket and taking possession of the writing pad. Shane didn’t argue. His writing was at

best a scrawl, and Benedict’s was neat enough that even with the paper upside down,

Shane could read it.

Over the course of an hour, Shane’s backside got numb, and his brain started to

shut down from boredom, but they thrashed out a rough plan of action.

“So that’s settled. We’ll put off trying to serve food, because we can’t afford to hire

anyone to cook it or get the kitchen into any reasonable kind of shape, but we’ll keep it

in mind for the future?”

“Yeah, sure.” Shane smothered a yawn, and Benedict made another note.

“As far as the renovation work, if you call your friend and get him to give us a

quote, that’s fine, but I think we should get a few more too.”

“Rob’s a good guy. He won’t cheat us.”

“This isn’t about how nice he is or how much you want to help him out. It’s about

getting the changes done cheaply but competently. The bulk of the money is going on

dividing the space to give us the snug or whatever you called it, and it needs to be done

right.”

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“But it isn’t just it needs to be done right. It needs to be done quickly before we’ve

run out of cash, doesn’t it?” Shane had certainly gotten that impression from the way

Benedict had been speaking.

“Yeah.” Benedict put down his pen and leaned his forehead on his hand. “Where’s

my guardian angel when I need him?”

“Guardian angel?” Shane couldn’t help but be amused.

Benedict nodded. “Isn’t everyone supposed to have one? Trust me, if I did, it

would be a guy.” He lifted his face and spoke at the ceiling above them. “This would be

a good time. Wave your magic wand. Fix this place up.”

For the first time, Shane found himself thinking about Benedict’s life outside the

Square Peg, which, to be fair, was most of it. “What about a boyfriend?”

“You mean, do I have one? No. I did, until pretty recently, but it didn’t work out.”

Benedict glanced at him. “I’m too boring, apparently.”

Shane snorted. “Yeah, right. For a boring guy, you’ve shaken my life up plenty.”

He eyed Benedict curiously. “Boring how? Did he want a threesome and you wouldn’t

play, or couldn’t he look past the accountant suit and see you’re hot?”

“He saw me out of the suit plenty of times, and our sex life was none of your

business.” Benedict tapped his pen on the notepad. “All the smaller stuff, painting,

refinishing the floors, replacing that godawful bar, has to wait until the construction’s

done, so that’s our priority. We’ll have to shut down for a few days, but if the staff is

prepared to come in and help, there’s no reason for them to lose any money. There’s

plenty of work. We’ll need to empty the bar. All those bottles and glasses…”

Benedict’s voice died away. Shane sighed, seeing, as Benedict did, just how much

work lay ahead. Well, he’d never been accused of being lazy.

“I’ll call Rob, get him over here tomorrow, before we open, so he can do some

measurements and work out the numbers. You call whoever you want to do the same.”

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“Agreed.” Benedict smiled at him, his dark eyes lively, as if he’d enjoyed the

number games. Shane was glad one of them had. “Now if you’ll give me any bills that

just can’t wait, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Okay, but I’ve made a note of them, and I’ll pay you back my half.” How, he

wasn’t sure, but he would. Asking Benedict, a complete stranger, to put his hand in his

pocket like that had been one of the more humiliating experiences of Shane’s life.

Paying off the debt would go a small way toward erasing that humiliation.

Benedict nodded without commenting, which was a relief. He stood, tucking the

pen away, then picking up the notepad. “I’ll get this written up and give you a copy.”

“Thanks. Thanks for all of it.” Shane stood and offered Benedict his hand,

impelled by the need to seal this with a handshake.

Benedict’s shake was firm without being painful, his palm smooth enough that

Shane wondered if his felt like sandpaper to Benedict. He’d picked up more than a few

nicks and calluses over the years. Benedict’s touch lingered longer than it should have,

and Shane found himself reluctant to pull away too. What might those smooth palms

feel like on his bare skin? He felt genuine regret when Benedict let go.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” he said as Benedict opened the door.

“Today’s Thursday, so yes, I can’t argue there.”

Shane smiled, slow and mischievous. “You should come over. See the place when

it’s hopping. Come around ten when it’s really lively and mingle with the punters.” The

thought of Benedict’s face when he saw what went on at the weekend amused him.

“You just want to torture me,” Benedict complained, and Shane clapped him on

the shoulder.

“It’ll be fun,” he said.

“Yeah, but for who?”

Shane was sure he knew the answer to that question.

* * * *

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

By the time Benedict showed up the next evening, they’d already talked several

times on the phone, but Shane was still strangely glad to see his face in the crowd.

Benedict was wearing a casual blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons

undone, a dusting of dark chest hair showing as he came toward where Shane was

sitting at the end of the bar closest the office.

“You weren’t kidding,” Benedict said, joining him.

“Weekends are a completely different story to weeknights,” Shane agreed. “I’d

imagine the restaurant business is much the same. I wanted you to see it for yourself.”

He patted the stool next to his. “Saved you a seat.”

“Thanks.” Benedict sat facing the room. To their left, Vincent and Dave were

working hard pulling pints and mixing drinks, and Shelly was loading the dishwasher.

There wasn’t an empty table in the place.

“It’s noisy,” Benedict said, leaning in close so he didn’t have to shout. Shane didn’t

mind. He got a whiff of an expensive citrus-based cologne and the warmth of Benedict’s

breath on his face. Around the room, many couples were kissing, hands busy, eyes

closed, or heading off to the men’s room together, not troubling to be discreet. But that

soft brush of air against Shane’s skin felt more intimate than any of it.

Shit. Getting involved with Benedict wasn’t a good idea. Things between them

were strained and complicated as it was. Giving in to an arousal that was probably

more to do with a recent dry spell than with Benedict himself would be stupid.

Plus, he’d most likely get turned down, and that would be hell on his ego.

He nodded and smiled in reply and gestured to Vincent when the lad glanced

over, holding up two fingers.

“I’m driving,” Benedict said.

“Hope you parked your car around back, or it’s probably minus its tires by now.”

“What? Seriously?”

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Shane grinned at Benedict’s yelp of alarm. “Relax. Though you can move it if you

want. Leave it there overnight and get a cab home. It’s Friday night, mate. Let’s get you

hammered.”

“I don’t understand half of what you say.”

It was Shane’s turn to lean in, the atmosphere around him making him reckless,

the beer he’d drunk making him randy as any of the kids in here, barely legal some of

them. “Want to see you with a beer or two inside you, Benedict. See your wild side.”