Chapter Eight
Haris pushed open the kitchen door onto a scene of absolute chaos. It looked as though every pot and pan was in use. The dark granite countertops were dusted with flour, as was the floor, and also Wilson who stood staring in open-mouthed disbelief at the spatula-wielding Tyler whose clothes were spotless. How had he managed that?
“Good morning.” Tyler beamed at him which was another surprise after the curt dismissal Haris had given him last night. “You’re just in time.”
For what?
“I tried to explain that your breakfast requirements are very particular, sir.” Wilson glared Tyler. “Coffee with hot milk, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and two slices of whole wheat toast spread with butter and a special thick cut Old English marmalade that I have to order months in advance from the supplier.”
“Time to live dangerously. We’re having pancakes.” Tyler poured more mixture into the pan, and by accident onto the halogen hob, filling the kitchen with the smell of burning. He flipped the pan and Wilson ducked.
“Oh well done. One that didn’t hit me or go onto the floor,” Wilson said.
“The floor’s clean. If you’re worried, I’ll eat those.” He tipped another pancake onto a plate, popped it in the oven and poured in more mixture.
Haris smiled and took his usual seat at the table.
“Coffee, sir.” Wilson put the cup in front of him. “I apologize if the taste is not quite up to standard. Your guest insisted on helping.”
The emphasis Wilson placed on the last word made it clear what he thought about that. Tyler dropped a handful of cutlery onto the table and Wilson shuddered.
“Draw up a chair, Wilson,” Tyler said. “There’s plenty.”
“That would be most inappropriate. I always have my breakfast after—”
“Sit,” Haris said.
Tyler carried over three plates, balancing one on his forearm, and Wilson gave a quiet whimper as he sat down. The plates had cost a fortune but Haris liked their clean simplicity. Haris looked from Wilson’s unhappy face to Tyler’s happy one, now with flour smudging his cheeks, and sighed. They were just going to have to get used to each other. It was only four months after all.
Haris poured a tablespoon of maple syrup onto his pancakes and handed the bottle to Wilson who took about the same. Tyler upended the bottle over his plate and let the liquid ooze out until his three pancakes almost floated in a light brown viscous sea.
“Sure you have enough?” Haris asked.
Tyler grinned.
The pancakes weren’t bad and Haris was touched Tyler had bothered. He hid his smile when he saw how quickly Wilson ate his.
“Want some more?” Tyler asked. “There’s plenty of flour and eggs.”
“Really? I’m most surprised.” Wilson stared pointedly at the floor.
“I’ll clean up.”
“No, no, no. It will be my absolute delight to return the kitchen to its usual pristine state. It should only take me about five hours, assuming my back doesn’t seize up which it is prone to do, but every moment spent cleaning I’ll be remembering the wonder of these most excellent pancakes and the taste of the…er…coffee, and making a note that I need to buy more eggs, flour and maple syrup at the supermarket. Perhaps two bottles of the syrup.”
Tyler laughed. “Sorry I made a mess. I’ll sort it out.”
“Really I must insist I be allowed to do it on my own.”
“But I’d feel terrible leaving you to do it all.”
Wilson cast Haris a despairing look.
“Wilson will enjoy doing it, Tyler. Let it go.”
“Okay, okay. Thank you,” Tyler said. “Can you both shut your eyes a minute?”
“Why?” Haris asked.
“I want to lick my plate. I’ve never had real maple syrup. I don’t want to waste a drop.”
Wilson’s mouth fell open again.
Haris smiled. “If you want to lick your plate, lick your plate.”
Tyler stared straight at him as he put out his tongue and lapped up the smears of syrup. Haris’s cock decided it needed to watch too and pressed against his zip. Oh Christ.
Wilson began to clear the table. “May I enquire about your plans for the day, sir?”
I’m going to take Tyler straight back to bed. “We’re going shopping. We’ll travel by Tube and you can collect us later.”
“As you wish, sir. Umm, there’s something I need to bring to your attention. The unusual situation we seem to have recently found ourselves in on a number of occasions whilst out in the car, even though you and I are not of the same mind about the veracity of the incidents, occurred again last night.”
Sometimes he didn’t understand Wilson at all.
“I’ll need more detail,” Haris said. “Alternatively, go for a maximum of five words.” Not that he thought that possible.
Wilson glanced at Tyler.
“Tyler, you want to go and wash the flour off your face?”
“Sure.” He pushed back from the table and left the kitchen.
Wilson fidgeted. “I didn’t want to say in front of the young man, sir, but I believe we were followed again last night. The white Fiat.”
Haris frowned. Curious. Wilson’s clear concern made him wonder if he should have taken this more seriously.
“Do we need to inform the authorities?” Wilson asked.
And have them laugh in his face? “We have no proof, no license plate, no motive.”
Although coming up with a motive wouldn’t be difficult. An investor who’d lost money and blamed him, someone sent by his father or one of his brothers to check up on him, some random guy he’d pissed off without realizing. Though it was crazy to be going for the unlikely when there were at least two people who hated him. Haris swallowed hard. Or it could be no one at all. Just Wilson’s James Bond complex.
“Tell me if you spot the car again.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Tyler will be moving in.”
Wilson didn’t blink.
“I’ll ask him not to cook,” Haris added.
“Thank you, sir. As always, you are a paragon of wisdom.”
No, he wasn’t. If he had been, he’d have stayed as far away from Tyler as he could. As it was, the guy lay naked on the bed when he got upstairs and their shopping trip was a little delayed.
Shopping for clothes for Tyler was supposed to have been a pleasurable experience but it quickly became clear Tyler was not enjoying himself. Haris sat in a comfortable chair in the men’s department of Harrods, trying not to drool at a man who looked drop-dead gorgeous in everything he tried on, particularly the tux. The fantasy of dragging Tyler into the changing room and fucking him kept his cock entertained for quite a while. The assistant had fallen into lust with Tyler as well and asked him if he was a model. Tyler had rolled his eyes, but why not? Tall and slender with a bad-boy sultry look on his face, he’d grace the pages of any fashion magazine.
“Shoes now,” Haris said after he’d received back his black Amex card and a curt “thanks” from Tyler.
Tyler trudged after him, wearing a new dark blue pea coat, a blue Fair Isle sweater and grey jeans, his own clothes in bags.
Finally, Haris could stand it no longer. He spun round and Tyler walked into him.
“What the hell’s the matter?” Haris snapped.
“Nothing.”
He raised one eyebrow.
Tyler squirmed. “I don’t feel comfortable.”
“Really?” He bit back the comment that he’d just spent a couple of thousand pounds buying him something decent to wear and he ought to be bloody grateful.
“I could have gone to Top Shop or Primark and picked up some new gear,” Tyler said.
“I don’t want you in clothes from there. This is part of the arrangement, remember?”
Tyler’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Yes. Sorry. Thanks very much.”
How to say thank you and not mean it. Haris chewed the inside of his cheeks and carried on walking. “We’ll get you a few pairs of shoes, then I’ll call Wilson and we can go to your flat and pick up your things.”
“Oh fuck.”
“What now?” he snapped and turned to see Tyler staring at a good-looking blond guy hurrying toward them, a big smile on his face. The assistant flung his arms around Tyler which didn’t please Haris and didn’t appear to please Tyler either who wriggled out of his grasp.
“What are you doing in here?” asked the blond. “Wow, you look great. I like your coat and your sweater. Don’t tell me you bought them in Harrods? I could have got you a discount. No wonder you’ve got no m—”
“Shut up, Jeremy.” Tyler sighed and turned. “This is my…friend Jeremy. Jeremy this is Haris.”
Jeremy offered his hand and Haris didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty when he squeezed too hard. Jeremy flinched and edged closer to Tyler.
“Are you okay?” the blond whispered but not so quietly that Haris didn’t hear.
“Fine. I need shoes. Apparently.”
“I know exactly what would suit you.”
Did he indeed? What the hell was that niggle in his gut? Jealousy? More likely to be the effects of those pancakes. He sat and watched Jeremy fawn over Tyler. Tyler was perfectly entitled to have friends, but he couldn’t help wondering exactly what sort of friend Jeremy was. An ex? A not so ex? Tyler had told him he wasn’t involved with anyone but Jeremy looked as though he wanted to be involved. Did he really need to hold Tyler’s foot like that? Was he stroking his calf? Fuck. He didn’t want to be jealous.
Haris sprang to his feet. “We need to go.”
“Which ones do you want to take?” Jeremy stood up in a sea of open boxes and tissue paper waves.
“Those, those and those.” Haris pointed them out and headed for the till.
“See you tonight,” Jeremy whispered and Haris almost tripped.
“I’m not going.”
“Really? Does Prescott know?”
“Not yet. I’ll call him. You shouldn’t go either.”
What the hell were they talking about?
“We’ve already had this discussion. So what changed?”
“Me. I changed.” Tyler sighed. “If you do go, be careful of Gerald. Don’t catch his eye.”
“What? Not even if he throws it?”
“I’m serious, and don’t tell Prescott you’ve seen me since Wednesday.”
“Okay. Maybe you could come round to my place tomorrow. I could cook breakfast again.”
Haris heard the hope in the guy’s voice and ice formed in his lungs. So they had been a pair.
“No, I can’t do that. I’m…busy. Don’t take any chances. Remember what I said.”
Haris was desperate to know what they were talking about but he refused to ask. He paid for the shoes and then took out his phone. “Wilson.”
“Your timing is impeccable as always, sir. I had just finished cleaning the kitchen, feeling quite amazed how flour manages to get into so many places and had finally found a moment to rest my weary limbs and drink a cup of tea. I assume you require me to collect you?”
“One hour, outside Harrods.” He turned to Tyler. “Follow me.”
Damn, I snapped that.
“Yes, master,” Tyler said and Haris winced.
He thought about leading Tyler to the champagne bar on the first floor but the mood they were in, it would be a waste. Instead he took him to Caffè Florian on the third floor. He kept telling himself not to ask about Jeremy, though the question bubbled in his head.
Tyler stacked the bags under their stools. “I’m just going to nip to the loo.”
“What do you want to eat?”
“You choose. I don’t mind.”
As Tyler walked away, Haris wondered if he’d come back.
The moment he was out of sight, Tyler took out his phone. He scrolled for Prescott’s number and then hesitated. He didn’t want to go tonight, but did he want to stay with Haris? The guy had given him one night to make up his mind, but he’d just assumed Tyler would go along with it and bought him all this expensive gear. And I let him. He’d tried to point out he could have gone somewhere cheaper and Haris bulldozed over him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the clothes, he did, it was just that the more expensive they were, the cheaper they made him feel. How crazy was that?
Four months wasn’t a lifetime and it didn’t look like Haris even expected him to spend the night in his bed. I’m not good enough for that? Did it have anything to do with those scars on his back? Someone had obviously hurt him. Maybe this all came down to trust. Tyler knew how that felt. The bottom line was where would he rather be? With moody, damaged Haris or in Prescott’s talon-like clutches?
He made the call. Before it went through, he cancelled it and texted.
Won’t be coming tonight or ever again. We’re done.
The warm rush of relief after he’d pressed send confirmed he’d made the right choice. A moment later, the phone rang. Not a surprise, though he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to speak to him.
“What are you fucking talking about?” Prescott yelled.
Tyler’s heart pounded. “I don’t want to come to your…parties anymore.”
“You ungrateful little shit. I—”
“Ungrateful?” Tyler turned to the wall and lowered his voice. “You think I should be grateful to be left hanging in a building I thought was about to burn down? You think I should be grateful a load of cunts pay to treat me like I’m nothing?”
“You were paid enough not to care.”
“Yeah, I was, but now I do care. I don’t need the money that much.”
“You’re not walking away from me, Tyler. If you’re not here tonight, I’m going to break every one of your fingers. See if you can play your precious instruments then.”
Tyler ended the call and switched off his phone with shaking hands.
By the time he’d re-joined Haris, he had himself back under control. A selection of sandwiches sat in the middle of the table, a black coffee at the side of his plate.
“Thanks.” Tyler had blown up one bridge, now he needed to mend this one. “Thanks for all the clothes and the shoes. Sorry if I seem ungrateful. It makes me uncomfortable, you flashing your black Amex card and me trailing like a puppy behind you.”
“I think it’s a little early in the arrangement to give you your own card.”
Tyler laughed and then realized he wasn’t joking. Fuck. He helped himself to several sandwiches and began to eat.
“I’m sorry,” Haris said. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about how you’d feel beyond getting some new gear.” He hesitated. “Have you made your decision? Can you put up with me for four months?”
He could see nothing in Haris’s face, neither confidence, resignation, nor even hope. The clothes had been meant to sway him and now that had failed, Haris sat there with no idea which way Tyler would jump. Maybe it was the man’s determination to show no emotion rather than the money that tipped the balance.
“Yes,” Tyler said. “But no more farting.”
Haris gaped. “I didn’t fucking—ah.” He laughed.
“These are delicious. They’ve even cut the crusts off. My…my mum used to do that. She said eating crusts would make my hair curly, but I liked it straight.”
“I like it straight too. How do you want me to pay you?”
Tyler blinked at the run-on.
“Each week by cheque?” Haris asked. “Or shall I pay it directly into your bank account?”
Tyler took out his wallet and gave Haris his bank card. “My account number and sort code.”
Haris tapped the details into his Blackberry and handed the card back. “I’ll put the ten thousand in too for incidentals.”
Tyler’s heart thumped. “Minus what you’ve forked out today.”
“If you wish.”
If I wish? I get this new gear and the ten thou? But that little exchange had brought home what he’d agreed to. He’d be a well-fed, well-pampered pet. Fucking great.
“We’ll go via your place on the way back and pick up whatever you’re going to need.”
No, we won’t. Tyler wanted that part of his life separate. He didn’t want Haris to see the dump he lived in. It was his dump and he didn’t want it criticized.
“I can do it myself another day. There’s not much and nothing I desperately need. Your bathroom’s equipped with everything.”
Probably because I’m not the first. God, are the dicks of the others in jars in the basement?
“We better go. I don’t want Wilson to get a ticket. I’d never hear the end of it.”
He paid the bill and picked up some of the bags. Tyler took the others.
“Where did Wilson come from?” Tyler asked as they made their way out of the store.
“I wish I knew.”
“How long has he been with you?”
“Six years.”
Every answer was clipped. Have I pissed him off again? Just by asking questions? More likely he was still pissed off from before. Tyler mentally sighed. Insecure, immature, sulky bastard…and then he smiled. That was him too.
“Do you have anything planned for this afternoon?” Tyler asked.
“I have some work to do. Why?”
“Like to do something with me?” Tyler asked.
Haris turned and smiled. His sexy smile. The one that made his eyes shine. Tyler was beginning to realize how many smiles he had.
“Let Wilson take the shopping back,” Tyler said.
A few moments later, Wilson drove away and Haris stood expectantly in front of him.
“We need to buy a few things,” Tyler said.
“You want to go back in—?”
“No. I’m paying this time. I can’t afford their prices.”
“I’ll—”
“No,” Tyler snapped. Don’t fucking ruin this. “Come with me.”
They walked in silence until Tyler found a cheaper place. “H&M. This store is fine.” He headed toward a display of gloves. “What’s your favourite colour?”
“Grey.”
“Great.” He picked up a twin pack of grey gloves. “Mine’s blue but I can go with grey.”
“Three ninety-nine?” Haris didn’t hide his incredulity.
“Less than one of the coffees you just paid for.”
He frowned. “Why do we need gloves? And I’d rather have leather.”
“Wait and see. And tough, I’m not paying for leather.”
“Why—” Haris started to speak and then closed his mouth.
Tyler grinned at him. “Ah you learn fast, grasshopper.” He picked up a blue beanie hat and stuck it on Haris’s head, then pulled it off and reached for a black Peruvian hat covered in snowflakes.
“No,” Haris said.
Tyler put it on his own head and turned to look at him. “It’s furry inside and we’re going to be cold later. You need a hat.” He took it off, put it on Haris and laughed. “You look as though you’d rather hug a polar bear than wear it.”
“How astute.”
Tyler whipped it off his head, picked up another in blue and took everything to the till. If Haris offered to pay, he’d kick him. But the guy hung back. When Tyler turned round, Haris was holding a couple of sweaters.
“Have you seen the price of these? I can’t believe it.”
Tyler took them out of his hands and put them back on the display. “I doubt you need any more sweaters and I certainly don’t. Come on.”
“So where are we going?” Haris asked.
“Wait and see.”
“We’re walking?”
“Yes.” The temperature was already dropping as the light faded, and Tyler pulled a pair of gloves from the bag and put them on.
A few minutes later, Haris let out a deep sigh.
“Changed your mind?” Tyler held up the bag.
“Yes, please.”
He handed him the other pair. “What do you usually do on a Saturday?”
“Work.”
“Don’t you go out with friends?”
“I have plenty of invites but I don’t accept many. What about you?”
Tyler really didn’t want to tell him what he’d been doing on Saturday nights. “I avoid anything that costs money so my options are limited.”
“You watch TV?”
“I don’t have a TV. I play my acoustic guitar. I leave the electric one at college with my sax. That’d be a sure fire way to piss off the neighbours.”
“Do you read?”
“Yeah, I like reading, when I have time.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Science fiction, techno thrillers, fantasy. But I guess I’m not going to be doing as much reading in bed as I’m used to.” He grinned at Haris who smiled back.
Tyler gave a silent sigh of relief. They could make this work.
Haris suddenly stopped walking.
“What is it?” Tyler asked.
“Let’s get you a phone.” He nodded toward the store they’d stopped next to.
He bristled. Hadn’t he made the point clearly enough? “I’ve got a phone.”
“An iPhone?”
Oh fuck. Tyler wanted to say no but he couldn’t. He’d seen others using them, drooled over what they could do and desperately wished he had one. His phone was a cheap-ass piece of crap, an ancient pay-as-you-go with no features whatsoever if he didn’t count buttons that tended to stick.
Fifteen minutes later, he walked out with a something he never thought he’d be able to afford. Well, he couldn’t but Haris could. How shallow am I? The clothes didn’t work but the phone had. Now he could listen to music, take pictures, surf the Internet.
For four months. Tyler told himself to stop being such an dickhead. He knew the deal. And he really liked the phone.
“You okay?” Haris asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for the phone.”
“You’re welcome.”
They crossed the road into Hyde Park and lights suddenly lit up the trees.
“Wow. You must be important,” Tyler said. “That’s quite a welcome.”
“Funny guy. So what are we doing?”
“You’ll see.”
Tyler hoped he’d play along or it was more money down the drain. He’d have to go and book a time which meant leaving Haris for ten minutes or so. A crowded Christmas market came into view and Haris groaned which earned him an elbow in the ribs.
“I have to check on something,” Tyler said. “Want to buy us a couple of mulled wines and wait here?”
“Fine.”
Tyler pulled the two hats out of the bag and bit off the price tags. He put the blue one on his head and the other on Haris’s. “Just to make you easier to spot.”
The empty bag went into a trash bin and he headed through the crowds looking for the ticket office. This was more money he shouldn’t be spending, but it felt as though he was redressing the balance in the relationship in a slight couple of pounds sort of way.
In his dreams. And it wasn’t a relationship. It was an arrangement. And the tickets cost a fucking fortune.
He bought two and made his back through the jostling crowds. Haris stood with his back to a tree, holding two plastic cups, looking as though he had a stick shoved up his ass. Maybe he wasn’t going to relax. Maybe he didn’t want to have fun, he just wanted to have sex. Have I got this wrong?