FIFTEEN
Kit didn’t turn on the games as Micah expected. He clicked the television to a music station that played nothing but soft rock from a couple decades ago and turned the volume down until the music was background noise, loud enough to drown out the silence that seemed to want to invade the house.
Kit settled on the floor in front of the low table and dished himself a plate of food. Micah took the grater from him when he struggled to make it work properly and loaded his pasta with parm. “You’d think you’ve never helped in the kitchen before,” Micah said belatedly realizing Kit likely never had. “I’m sorry that was rude.”
“It’s okay. But no I never have. That I can remember. Rich kid for one. We have help for that. But…there are other reasons as well.” Kit wouldn’t look at him as he typed. He swirled a bite onto his fork and stuffed it into his mouth as Micah served himself. He made the ooh this is hot face and sucked in air over his tongue.
“It just came off the stove. It’s hot. Be careful.” Micah laughed and buttered a garlic roll.
“Fuck you.” Kit looked up smiling. Micah liked that there was laughter in his eyes. “Seriously, this is good. You made it look simple. Gibbs makes everything a production.”
“Yeah, I grew up with two parents who worked full time. I was left in charge a lot. We had plenty of food but no one to cook it. I learned to make simple stuff. I’ve never had time to learn more than quick meals. Burgers. Pastas. Breakfast. Run out the door when work summons.” Micah shrugged. He had nothing to complain about. His folks had done what they could to take care of him and his brother and sister. “I was the oldest. A lot of the time I was babysitter and cook and homework help. That sort of thing.”
Kit nodded, watching him and eating, as if he’d starve if he didn’t, and Micah couldn’t take his eyes off him.
“What? Do I have sauce on my face or something?” Kit asked looking alarmed.
“No.” Micah had to smile. This felt strangely like a date. “I was just…” he cleared his throat when he stumbled over the words. “Watching you eat… It’s like you just go for it. I like that.”
Kit laid his fork down and looked away again. “I have forgotten my manners.”
Micah reached for his hand. “That is not what I meant. I…ah…Jesus, okay…it’s your mouth…your mouth is a turn on. Okay. I can’t help watching…your lips…fuck me…” He gave up and ducked his head in embarrassment.
“Is that a request? I could give it a try. I don’t know if I could—you know—but I could figure something out.” The words were in that bland computer generated voice that had no emotion. Micah looked up, startled to find the man smirking at him.
“Oh, you made a joke. Did it hurt?”
“You laughed. Did your face break?”
Micah slipped off the edge of the beanbag chair onto the floor and leaned back, laughing. Oh God, he remembered laughing. He remembered being a human at some point in his life. “Maybe. Sure feels like it.” He controlled himself and scooted up to the table, tucking his legs underneath and poking Kit’s foot with his. “I like when you do that.”
“You mean when I insult you? I’m good at insults. It’s my super power.” Kit swirled more pasta onto his fork and winked at Micah.
The punch to his gut was like nothing Micah had ever experienced. Kit winked and flirted and Micah died so hard. He couldn’t catch his breath. All he could do was try to act like he wasn’t sitting there falling face first for an enigma.
“That’s not laughter in your eyes.” Kit stopped typing and went to sign. He also went very pale.
What the hell did he say? If this really were a date he’d make hints about taking the party back to the closest bed. Or…fuck. Micah was fucked. “I have a question?” What the hell was he doing? Kit was not…he couldn’t…shouldn’t…oh but he wanted too…so very badly…to lay him on his back and strip his clothes off and eat spaghetti off his stomach and make love to him the rest of the day and into the night.
“Okay?” Kit seemed to have forgotten he had a keyboard at hand. He reverted to sign when he forgot. Or it was easier when he was confused or defensive.
“Why bulletproof glass? In the atrium? Why do you have bulletproof glass?”
*
What? Kit felt as if the floor had rocked under his ass making the room move. He’d been trying so hard to be…normal. He was sure Beastly had noticed. Even letting him insult him. And thinking it was funny and not offensive. He wanted to know about windows? Kit didn’t know what to say?
“I was wondering while I was walking the perimeter. I just remembered to ask?” Well, at least Micah had the sense to look stupid about it.
“You were wondering just how paranoid a person could be?” Kit sometimes wondered as well, but he lived in his skin. Beastly didn’t.
“Actually, no. Having the glass saved us the other night. I was wondering if anything like this had happened in the past. And after talking with Kady while ago I get the feeling there’s more going on.” He shrugged and bent over his food. The casual banter from a couple minutes ago forgotten now.
“Oh.” Kit swirled strands of pasta onto his fork and dumped them back onto the plate. He wasn’t hungry anymore.
“She said it was most likely some townie pissed off about the economy.” Beastly reached over and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in Kit’s face behind his ear, his touch sending shivers all over Kit’s body.
“I was wondering what the two of you were arguing about. I hadn’t thought about it being a townie. Not really. Not with the letters and threats. But…” he wanted to clasp Micah’s hand in his but didn’t have the courage. “They didn’t take it well when my grandfather closed the house to the public. People stopped coming to town when the tours stopped, which caused some of the specialty shops in town to close. Didn’t help any when the auto plant not far from here laid off the entire workforce. So yeah, it could be some disgruntled townie pissed that his life was inconvenienced.”
“Coming from the prince in the palace, that’s pretty callous. The let ‘em eat cake attitude is really appealing.” There was more than a hint of disappointment in Beastly’s voice, and Kit knew he deserved it but not for the reasons he thought.
There was no way he could make Beastly understand about the community, but at least he could answer the original question. “The glass is older than me. Well the original glass. It’s been replaced a couple of times since my grandfather had it installed back in the 80s.”
“Back then the place was a functioning estate. Good times were still really good. Lots of rich people would come up for the parties my grandparents threw. Every fall he held a dove hunt out on the grounds and one year a couple of his more eccentric friends got into the hard hooch and thought the gardener in the conservatory was a bird or something. Shot the place to hell and gone. And the gardener. After that, the conservatory was never the same. The bulletproof glass filtered out the nutrients the plants needed and everything died. And the gardener, well, he walked away, but he never came back. I’m told they still talk about it in society circles. But I wouldn’t know.”
Micah had a half smile on his face. “I had to ask.”
“And now you know.” Kit felt the laugh bubble up. “Sam used to tell me that story. He made it funny. He was here back then. He said my grandmother almost tore those two assholes new necks for shooting her favorite gardener.”
“And now I know.” Micah chuckled. The sound was warm and made the hair on the back of Kit’s neck stand on end. He shivered again. But he wasn’t cold. Not even a little.
“After my parents died, my grandparents couldn’t cope. My grandmother passed away while I was in the hospital after…well, after. I don’t remember her. I don’t remember anything.” Kit felt compelled to explain why the house had closed. He didn’t have to. Beastly didn’t need to know. But he did. “Grandfather passed a few years later. Which I do remember. In those years, he divided up his wealth and his companies and sold everything that was left. This house is the only piece of hereditary property left and since I’m the last of his line…it’s all I have left of him. Of them. It’s that simple, the parties stopped, the economy tanked, and the tourists stopped coming. All before I was moved here. Things just died. It wasn’t our fault. Sometimes though, it does piss me off when someone from the city council starts publicly pointing fingers about how much the people have lost and forget that my parents were murdered and my grandparents died broken people. Money fucking sucks. I have a ton of it. But that’s all I have. They have families and lives and there are opportunities out there. Shit…never mind.”
Kit pushed his plate away and climbed to his feet. He left Beastly sitting at the table, his mouth open as if he was going to say something but didn’t. Kit needed to go hit something. Hard. Maybe if he destroyed something he wouldn’t notice the dark slipping up behind him with its icy fingers. Maybe he wouldn’t let it drag him back down into its depths this time…if he could only hurt…something.