Chapter Twelve
Another world. Tyler stood in a tuxedo costing eight hundred pounds, wearing ninety-pound shoes, drinking champagne and feeling a fraud. It was a beautiful world and he didn’t belong here, though Haris did. He admired the way Haris could turn on the charm. He seemed to know everyone’s name and had a smile for each person he met. Though none like the ones he gives me.
Haris introduced him as a talented musician, an up-and-coming star with inspirational flair, a name to remember for the future while Tyler shuffled his feet at his side. Then a guy who worked for Spot, a music magazine Tyler loved, had given Tyler his card and told him to give him a call. What the fuck planet am I on? Before his nerves got the better of him, Tyler invited him to the gig on Tuesday and when he’d said he’d try to make it, Tyler had just about passed out.
At their table, name cards were slotted into little silver Christmas trees. Haris sat on one side of him, a Dr Sally Freeman on the other. Tyler introduced himself and shook her and her husband’s hand. He picked up the auction program from the side of his plate and scanned it. People were offering all sorts of stuff: holiday in the Caribbean, the use of a private jet, a huge painting by David Hockney, services of a wedding planner. Christ.
“Everyone’s been extraordinarily generous,” said Dr Freeman.
Tyler nodded.
“What do you do?” she asked.
She had to be the only person in the room Haris hadn’t told. “I’m a music student. My final year. Are you a doctor of medicine?”
“Yes, a children’s cancer specialist.”
“My brother had leukaemia.” Oh God. Where had that memory come from? A blurred image came into his head of Noel with no hair, and Tyler struggled unsuccessfully to bring his features into focus.
“I hope he was one of the lucky ones.”
“Yes and no. He died, though not from cancer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Life can be very unfair.”
“Yep, it can.”
She turned to speak to her husband and Tyler felt Haris squeeze his knee.
“You told me you didn’t have any siblings,” he said quietly.
“I don’t anymore.”
“What was your brother’s name?”
“Noel.” Can’t talk about him. “So have you offered something on this list?” He leaned to whisper in Haris’s ear. “Blowjobs every night for a week. Should I bid? I can go up to seven quid. That should be the winning offer surely.”
Haris laughed. “I think we’ll keep that private. You could do something though. Maybe play at someone’s dinner party or give guitar lessons. I can tell the auctioneer to put another item in. The more money raised the better.”
“You serious?”
“Of course I am. I’ve told everyone I’ve met that you’re as big as Mozart.”
“Hey, he was five four. I’m over six feet.” He chewed his lip. “I’ll play at a dinner party if you like.”
Haris beamed and stood up. “I’ll tell the auctioneer before you change your mind.”
Oh God, what if no one wants me? Tyler gulped at the thought of there being no bids. He’d slide under the table with embarrassment.
As Haris moved farther away, Tyler hovered on the verge of going after him and telling him he’d changed his mind when his gaze collided with someone he’d hoped never to see again.
Gerald sat staring at him.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Tyler couldn’t look away. The guy’s fat lips curved in a smile and finally Tyler managed to spin around. He reached for his wine and almost tipped the glass over. Panic fluttered in his stomach. What if Gerald said something to Haris? Like what? He could hardly tell him the truth. But he didn’t need to tell him the truth, did he? Tyler put the glass down before he dropped it. Christ. Shit. Bollocks. He flicked his wrist repeatedly with his finger and thumb.
I’m going to throw up.
“Are you all right?” the doctor asked, looking at him in concern.
“Bathroom?” Tyler blurted.
“Over there on the right.”
He tried not to race out as he wended his way through waiting staff in the process of delivering the first course, only breaking out into a run when the path was clear. Part of him wanted to keep running out of the building and into the night but what would Haris think then? He slammed the door of a cubicle and vomited into the bowl. I have to tell Haris the truth. Tell him what I used to do. He knows about the BDSM thing, he’ll understand.
Would he?
Tyler wiped his mouth with tissue, flushed the toilet and leaned against the wall of the stall. If Gerald approached him and used his name, he wasn’t going to be able to deny he knew him and when Haris asked how they knew each other…fuck. But if he threatened Gerald by saying he’d tell about Jeremy? Tell who, he wasn’t sure. Did he have a wife? Was she sitting by him? Could he do that?
“Finished throwing up?”
Tyler shuddered. He should have known Gerald would follow. Maybe it was a good thing. He could stop this right now. He opened the door of the cubicle and walked to the wash basin. Gerald stood leaning against the door, smirking. Bastard. Tyler splashed cold water into his mouth and spat into the bowl. Ignore him.
Gerald strolled over to the dispenser and handed him a paper towel. Tyler snatched it from his hand. So much for ignoring him.
“What’s a bad boy like you doing in a nice place like this?” The fucker had the nerve to snigger like some cartoon villain.
Tyler longed for some superhero to drive an iron fist through the wall, grab Gerald by the neck, yank him back and launch him into space. Nothing happened. Nothing ever did. He had to handle it himself as he did everything else. He learned how to be resilient. If he hadn’t, he’d have crumbled. He wiped his mouth, bunched up the towel and threw it in the trash. What was the point saying anything to this arsehole? He’d be better off denying he knew him. When he moved toward the door, Gerald stepped in front of him.
“I’m hard even thinking about fucking you.” He rubbed his hand over his crotch.
Don’t you dare touch me. Tyler met Gerald’s gaze and tried not to swallow.
“What happened to you on Saturday?”
Tyler reached for the door handle, and Gerald caught his wrist and twisted hard.
“I had to make do with Jeremy. He’s a screamer. I prefer your sullen defiance.”
Tyler wrenched free. “You raped him, you fucking monster.”
When he saw the shock on Gerald’s face, and the swift way that shock turned to fury, he wondered if he’d just made a bad mistake in letting Gerald know he and Jeremy had been talking.
But the guy’s distraction allowed Tyler to elbow him aside and get out of the restroom. He raced back to the table and dropped down breathless next to Haris.
“Okay?” Haris shot him a puzzled look.
“Yeah, fine.” He stared at the elaborate seafood starter in front of him and doubted he’d be able to eat a thing.
“I managed to get you on the list,” Haris said. “Right between ‘a day at the races’ and ‘four hours with a tax consultant.’ I think they’d have to pay most people to spend four hours with a taxman.”
“Great.” Tyler stuck his fork into a prawn and pushed it around the plate, making a pattern in the sauce.
“What’s wrong? If you’ve changed your mind, I can—”
“No, it’s fine. Sorry. I’m full. It’s that Marmite sandwich and er—what came after.” That was the most pathetic excuse he’d ever made and judging by Haris’s snort, he thought that too.
The auctioneer sold the first ten lots after they’d finished the starter. Tyler mentally laughed at the idea of bidding for anything. No item started at less than a hundred pounds, even a crappy drawing the size of a postcard that looked like a kid had done it. Then he felt bad when he realized a kid had done it. A sick kid.
He could feel Gerald’s eyes boring into his back and was determined not to look at him. But concentrating on the conversation going around the table was almost impossible. He did his best to smile in the right places, and he made enough of a mess of his main course to make it look as though he’d eaten some of it but every now and again, Haris’s hand settled on his knee and squeezed. Tyler wished it reassured him, but he felt like he was waiting for lightning to strike.
When the auctioneer started on the last group of items, the sinking sensation in his stomach cemented him to his seat. What if Gerald bid for him? He wrapped his hands around the edge of his chair. Damn, damn, damn.
“What’s wrong?” Haris whispered.
“No one’s going to bid and I’ll feel an idiot,” he lied.
“I’ll bid.”
Tyler shot him a glance. “No, don’t.” Because Gerald would see there was a connection between them other than them sitting at the same table. Oh God. Maybe it’s too late anyway.
“Now I have an additional lot,” called the auctioneer. “After your day at the races, madam, perhaps you’d like some entertainment for a dinner party? Tyler Bellamy, a final year music student and a talented pianist, is offering his services for two hours on a mutually acceptable evening. Who’d like to start me at a hundred pounds?”
“A hundred,” Gerald called behind him.
Tyler chewed the inside of his cheeks. How could he have even considered Gerald not bidding? The amounts went up and up. Bidders came and went but Gerald stayed.
Haris bent his head and whispered in Tyler’s ear, “What the hell is the matter with you? You’re white as this table cloth.”
“I don’t want him to win.” Tyler hadn’t meant to let the words slip past his lips but they were out now.
“Look at me,” Haris said.
Tyler turned.
“Five thousand pounds,” Haris called out.
The breath froze in Tyler’s throat. The last bid had been one thousand.
“Six thousand,” Gerald shouted.
I’m going to throw up. “P-please,” spurted from his mouth.
Haris waved his hand to the auctioneer. “Twenty thousand.”
Tyler’s lungs locked and the noise that filled his head sounded as if the whole room had gasped in astonishment. Everything swam in his vision, he heard a roaring in his ears and realized it was applause. When it died away, he wasn’t sure what had happened.
“You must have exceptional talent,” said the doctor at his side.
Haris had a smile on his face. Did that mean he’d won? Tyler risked a glance at Gerald and saw him scowling.
“You can thank me later,” Haris whispered.
He’d just cost Haris twenty thousand pounds and ruined everything. Even if he made it to the end of the four months, now he wouldn’t be able to take the money. He couldn’t expect him to pay twice. There would be no twenty thousand toward his debts. They’d still be there. Oh fuck.
The auction ended and Tyler slumped as people began to get up from the table.
“For a guy who just made more for this charity than most of the other lots, you don’t look very happy,” Haris said.
“Too much,” Tyler managed to say.
Haris shrugged. “I had to bid on something. Why not you?”
Tyler caught sight of Gerald advancing, and it was as if he were watching a car careening toward him, knowing the collision was going to happen and unable to do anything about it.
Gerald put his hand on the back of Haris’s chair and leaned over. “He’s a good fuck,” he said quietly, “but he’s not that good.”
He smirked at Tyler and walked away.
“Ah,” Haris said quietly. He stared at Tyler and waited, his face blank.
“He was the man who raped my friend,” Tyler blurted.
Haris’s beautiful eyes widened. “How the hell do you know him?”
“Don’t ask me.” He pushed to his feet, grateful he managed to stand without staggering.
Haris stood too.
“Thank you for b-buying me.” Then he did stagger.
Haris caught his arm. “Right, we’re leaving. Come on.”
Tyler didn’t take another breath until they stood outside. He inhaled the cold, crisp night air and released an audible sigh. Haris called Wilson and then tapped out a text. Even in Tyler’s confused state of mind, he wondered who he’d texted. Haris took hold of his hand, wrapped his strong fingers around his and pulled him down the lit path past the ice rink. Tyler didn’t remember when anyone had ever held his hand like this. It wasn’t sensible to draw attention and he knew he ought to pull away, but he didn’t want to because he drew comfort from the contact.
Once outside the museum grounds, they set off down the road and Haris didn’t let go of him.
“It’s too cold to stand around,” Haris said. “We’ll walk until Wilson has time to get here.”
Tyler knew Haris expected him to talk about Gerald, but how could he without revealing his sordid past? Then again, he had to say something.
“He’s not a nice guy,” he muttered.
“Since he raped your friend, I’d guessed that much,” Haris said. “So you and he were…”
Were what? We were nothing.
“He fucked me a few times.” More than a few. “He’s a sadistic bastard.” He likes to strangle me.
“Then why the hell…? Did he ever rape you?” Haris tightened his grip on his hand.
“No.” Though he’d been rough, his hands far too tight around Tyler’s neck, shoving his cock into him without sufficient preparation and Tyler had considered saying no, but then thought of the money and kept his mouth shut. He suspected Gerald liked to hear the guy he was fucking say no though he’d only ignore it, which was why he’d warned Jeremy to take care. Maybe if he’d been with Jeremy on Saturday, Gerald wouldn’t have…oh Christ, I’m not going down that path. It’s not my fault Gerald raped him. Except…
“You ought to persuade your friend to go to the police.”
I can’t talk about this.
Tyler stopped walking and turned to face Haris. “That was a lot of money to bid when you’ve already got me.”
“It was for a worthy cause.”
“I’m not worthy.”
“For the cancer charity, you idiot.”
But when Haris brushed Tyler’s hair from his eyes and rubbed his thumb along the line of his jaw, Tyler knew that was only part of it. Haris had bid because he’d asked him to. He’d still offer him the twenty thousand at the end of four months, except Tyler wouldn’t take it. Part of him had decided not to take it anyway, even before tonight. Oh God, I’m in too deep already.
“When did your brother die?” Haris asked.
Tyler chewed his lip. Maybe Haris thought he was letting him off the hook by changing the subject and instead, he was driving the barb deeper.
“Fourteen years ago. He was thirteen.”
“Was he in care with you?”
“No.” Tyler began to breathe more rapidly. I was on my own. I had no one. I didn’t need anyone. I don’t need anyone. I don’t—
“Hey.” Haris pulled him into his arms and held him tight and in the warmth and strength of his embrace, Tyler let himself dissolve against him.
“Fucking queers,” a voice hissed behind them, and Tyler spun around, arms flailing, panic swelling in his chest.
Haris grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Five men stood close by. Shit. This was why he didn’t do public displays of affection. Too many wankers like this spoiling for a fight.
“Perverts,” said a shaven-headed man in his late twenties.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Tyler snarled.
Haris tugged at his arm. “That’s not helping.”
“Make me,” the man said with a sneer. “On second thoughts, don’t touch me. I don’t want to catch anything.”
Tyler wrenched to get free but Haris didn’t let him go.
The group laughed as Tyler fought to get loose.
“Ooh, the girls are fighting,” someone called.
“Go fuck yourself,” Tyler shouted.
Haris dragged him away down the path. “Stop struggling. You want to take on all those idiots? Look, Wilson’s across the road. Come on.”
He hustled him over and pushed him into the back of the car. Tyler slumped against the door as the vehicle pulled away.
“Well…” Haris exhaled. “That was an eventful evening.”
“I’m sorry,” Tyler muttered.
“Come here.”
Tyler turned to look at him.
“Come here,” he repeated and opened his arms.
Tyler slid across the seat into them.
“What the hell was all that about?” Haris pressed his face against Tyler’s hair.
Tyler didn’t know where to start or even if he should start. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it all over his body. He had an opportunity now to tell Haris about Prescott, and get it all out in the open. But then Haris wouldn’t hold him like this anymore, as if he was something special, someone he cared about.
“You know, tonight was the first time I’ve ever walked along holding a man’s hand,” Haris said.
“You hugged me too,” Tyler mumbled.
“I don’t know what came over me.”
Tyler snorted into his chest. After a shuddering exhalation, he sat up straight. “And I almost got us beaten up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
No, it wasn’t. As usual, he’d been an idiot. He hadn’t thought about the consequences. He already knew the consequences of telling Haris what he usually did on a Saturday night. He could picture the look of disgust on his face. But would Haris understand him better if he told him what had happened when he’d been a kid? Would he understand why paying off his debt was so fucking important? Tyler didn’t want Haris to feel sorry for him, and if he told the truth, he would.
He wanted to tell him but there were words he’d banned from his head because they brought intense pain—mother, father, brother, sister, love, home—and every time he let himself think about that night, his world fell apart all over again. The pain never lessened.
Tyler raised his gaze to his and knew Haris was waiting for him to speak. He also knew Haris wouldn’t push him if he didn’t.
“Once upon a time, I was part of a loving family. I had an older brother and sister and I worshipped them.” Tyler clenched his fists on his knees. “We lived in a big house in the country and I had everything I wanted.” He swallowed hard. “Better warn you. No happy ending to this fairy story.”
Haris stroked his fists and when Tyler didn’t uncurl his fingers, he laid his hands over his. “What happened?”
“Claire died when she was twelve. She and Noel died and I didn’t.” His voice cracked. “I never talk about this.”
Haris stayed silent.
“When I was seven years old, my father shot and killed my brother and sister and my mother. He’d have shot me too but he couldn’t find me so he turned the gun on himself. The police said I was lucky.” He gave a short laugh. “Yeah, lucky my family had been wiped out and I survived. Imagine how fucking lucky I felt.”
“Oh God,” Haris whispered.
“Until tonight, I’d forgotten Noel had cancer. What sort of brother does that make me?”
“You were a little boy. A traumatized one. It’s forgivable.”
Tyler gulped. “I can’t remember what they look like. I thought about them every hour of every day for months after it had happened until it finally sunk into my thick skull that they weren’t coming back, that no one was coming to take me home, that home didn’t exist anymore, and it never would again. What I had was the only life I’d get. Then, one day, I realized their faces were no longer in my head. I couldn’t remember what they looked like.” The pain of that made his heart hurt. “It was like losing them all over again.”
“No photos?”
“There had been. A care worker made me an album with pictures of us. She thought she was being kind, but I took out all those of my dad, cut them into tiny pieces and ate them.” He let out a strangled laugh. “I have no idea why I did that. Then I cut up all the other photos too because I was so angry they’d left me.” He sucked in a breath. “My dad pulled the trigger, but I blamed my mother for not seeing what was coming. My stupid brother and sister could have hidden like me and they didn’t. Irrational fury.”
“Had you seen what was coming?”
“No.” Tyler shook his head. “Dad took us for a meal and told us we were going on holiday. He made us happy for the last time. He did that deliberately, aware of what he was going to do. That night, after we got back, the first thing he did was kill our two dogs. He shot Noel and Claire in their bedrooms. He probably looked for me in my room, I heard him call me, but I’d snuck down to see why the dogs had made a strange noise. When I came back into the house, I went upstairs to tell my mum that Bruno and Matty were…dead, and she grabbed me and put her hand over my mouth, whispered for me to be quiet.”
Don’t tell him all this. Don’t… But the words poured out.
“I heard my dad calling me and calling me, and Mum pulled me into a guest room. She was all…wet. I didn’t…I didn’t realize what… She wrapped her dressing gown tie around my mouth because I never shut up. She knew I never shut up. I had to keep quiet. She kept whispering that I had to keep quiet no matter what anyone said. ‘Keep quiet, baby. Keep quiet.’”
Haris stared at him without blinking.
“She pushed me into the bed and covered me with cushions and pillows. I heard him come into the room. Mum begged him not to hurt her, pleaded with him, and he said, ‘I’m sorry’ and shot her again.”
“Tyler,” Haris whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
He took a shaky breath. “She fell on me and I couldn’t move. But I knew I wasn’t supposed to move. I wasn’t supposed to speak so I lay still and waited. I heard him banging around, looking for me, shouting and I was getting wetter and wetter and I couldn’t figure out why. I knew…the moment she died. She…breathed out for too long and she didn’t breathe in again. Eventually, I heard another shot. There was no more noise after that. But I still didn’t move, not even when the police came. I found out later that I lay under her body for twelve hours. They only discovered me when they lifted her up to take her away. I was red from head to toe with my mother’s blood.”
“Oh God,” Haris murmured.
“So now I have a problem with blood and with being gagged. Well, I have a lot more issues than those but they’re the big ones.”
“Why the hell did he do it?”
“Pride.” He released a bitter laugh. “As a little boy, I didn’t understand, and in a way, I still don’t. That pride could make him kill his family? He was in debt and about to lose the house, his business, everything. He was faced with having to take us out of our private schools. Bailiffs were coming to seize the contents of the house. We had no relatives to go and live with. No friends my father could face. I was told by my counsellor that my father had been trying to spare his family the distress and grief that he was experiencing. What a fucking pile of shit.”
Tyler turned to him, the tension in his jaw making it hard to speak. “He was a selfish wanker and he should have killed himself and no one else. Noel had nearly died of cancer but he had his life back and our father took it away again.”
He shook his head. “I don’t allow myself to think about this. I hadn’t even remembered about Noel’s cancer until tonight.” He turned a bleak gaze on Haris. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.” He slid his hand onto Haris’s crotch.
Haris gripped his wrist. “Tyler,” he whispered.
“Let me.”
Tyler pushed the button free on his trousers, carefully unzipped him and pulled his cock out with both hands.
“Tyler, no,” Haris muttered.
“Please.” I can do this. I’m good at this. I can make myself forget, make you forget I told you.
He slid his thumbs up the side of Haris’s cock and Haris shuddered and threaded the fingers of one hand in Tyler’s hair. He loved the way Haris’s shaft hardened in his hand, swelling with blood, the veins snaking the length growing more prominent. Tyler dragged his finger across the slit and brought a pearl of silky pre-come to his lips. Staring into Haris’s face, he slowly licked his finger.
Haris reached for the intercom button. “Wilson. Don’t go straight home. Take us a roundabout route.” He slumped back on the seat, his gaze still fixed on Tyler.
Tyler laughed. “How long do you think this is going to take?”
“As long as you want, I suspect.”
Tyler bent his head and sucked him all the way into his throat.
“Jesus Christ,” Haris muttered and his body stiffened.
Saliva leaked out of Tyler’s mouth as he let the shaft slide back and forth between his lips. As Haris tightened his hold on his hair, Tyler sucked hard and hummed around him. He played the cock like a musical instrument, fluttering, twisting and teasing with his tongue until Haris panted and groaned. He tasted good, sort of sharp and flat at the same time and he kept getting bigger. And doing this stopped Tyler thinking.
Haris pushed down on his head, gripping his hair with both hands now, and Tyler let him control the tempo. He kept his lips tight around him, maintaining the pressure and he didn’t stop humming because he knew how good the vibration felt.
“Oh, oh, ah, fu…Je…oh…” The sounds that burst from Haris’s mouth were cries of wonder, and Tyler felt a thrill of delight that he could bring this classy guy to incoherency.
He brought his thumb to Haris’s balls and rubbed gently down the seam of his sac. His nuts were hard and swollen and he thought of all the little sperm swimming around in there. Four hundred million ejected every time a guy came. Fourteen gallons over a lifetime.
“Tyler,” Haris whispered.
Haris was coming. Tyler could feel it in his body, hear it in his voice, taste it in his cock. He sucked harder, moved his mouth faster and a spurt of salty-sweet semen hit the back of his throat. Haris shuddered as he emptied himself into Tyler’s mouth. Tyler didn’t let his cock free until he’d swallowed every drop.
Haris yanked him back up onto the seat and wrapped his arms around him. “What are you smiling about?”
“I just swallowed four hundred million potential Haris’s. Oh no, half might be female.”
Haris laughed.
“I wonder what sperm think when they reach the stomach,” Tyler said. “Are they programmed to look for an egg to fertilize even there?”
“As far as I remember from my sex ed classes, sperm have no sense of direction. Eggs send a chemical lure to guide them and only one in five swim the right way anyway. Hence the joke about men never taking directions from women.”
“Hey, do you think our sperm are gay?”
Haris chuckled. “Probably. I know which direction yours are about to go.”
Tyler groaned as Haris unbuttoned him.