Christmas At Leo's - Memoirs Of A Houseboy (26 page)

“Yeah,” I conceded. “It’s different. Gothic.”

He said something that sent a dart of jealous poison straight to my heart.

“Dick liked it too. He called it darkly beautiful.”

“Did he?” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as sour as I felt.

Vince peeled off his vest and posed. His toned chest bore similar tattoos to those on his arms. He also had nipple and bellybutton piercings, the full works. He turned around and I couldn’t help but gasp. His back was tattooed with a pair of black angel wings. The feather detail was incredible. They looked as if they might unfurl at any moment. Nestled between the wing tips at the base of his spine was an ornate thistle cross, the colours jewel bright. “Took more than a year to do.” He said proudly.

“It must have been uncomfortable.” I said, hoping in fact it had been agonising.

“Well, you have to suffer for your art, and it was worth it.” He laughed. “It goes down a storm at clubs and parties. I’ve even featured in a few professional music videos, and I’m a poster boy for my mixed martial arts club.” He pulled his vest back on. “Jak tells me you have some ink work yourself.”

“Hardly.” To my annoyance I felt my face flush. The small Celtic tattoo on my upper arm, the one a mate had inked on me, and which had infected, could hardly be compared to the skin art sported by Jak and Vince. I shot Jak a look of dislike. No doubt he and Vince had enjoyed a good laugh at my expense. “I’m not that interested.” Actually, resentment flickered, I’d have loved to have more tattoos, and piercings, but the men folk had forbidden it.

Dick championed my unadorned person. “Gilli doesn’t need decoration. He’s perfect as he is. Some people suit tattoos and some don’t.”

“I love them,” said Vince, adding ingratiatingly. “I hope you’ll change your mind and design one for me, like you did for Jak. It’s brilliant.”

I lobbed an evil look at Dick, Mr Darkly Beautiful. It sounded like I’d missed quite a conversation in the games room.

Dick smiled. “Oh, I don’t think so, Vince. The design for Jak was strictly a one off.”

Leo interrupted the conversation by declaring he was going to put the fish in the oven, ready for dinner. He put Genny down on the floor and left the room. Genny immediately leapt onto the chair, only to give a squawk of indignation when Vince plucked her up and dropped her back on the floor, taking the seat for himself.

His cavalier treatment of the cat annoyed me. My gob opened. “Be careful. She’s getting on, you know. You could have hurt her, dropping her on the floor like that.”

“She looks fine to me. Cats always land on their feet.”

“That doesn’t mean you can drop them from a height like you just did. You should have put her down more gently.”

“She’s fine.” Dick placed what was meant to be a soothing hand on my knee.”

Vince sniffed. “I prefer dogs myself. Not a cat fan at all.”

“Not liking cats doesn’t give you the right to mistreat them. Leo won’t like you mistreating Gen. He thinks the world of her.”

Vince leaned forward in his chair, growling. “I didn’t mistreat her, you idiot.”

Mike’s voice cut between us like a sword blade. “That’s enough aggro!”

“What is going on?”

My stomach clenched as Shane came back into the lounge.

Dick smoothed things over, saying lightly. “It’s nothing, Shane, just a silly debate about dogs and cats. Personally, I like both. They each have their own merits.”

Leo popped his head around the lounge door. “I’m going to wake Pat and then we can eat.”

Pat soon appeared. He’d taken off his suit jacket and replaced it with a mauve V-neck sweater, while retaining his cravat. There was a hint of shine on his lips and a subtle dark tone to his lashes, which suggested artificial enhancement. He smiled around at us all, looking much more rested and relaxed than when he’d arrived. I studied him. He must have been quite beautiful once, before age bleached his eyes and sculpted his flesh, making the fine bones in his face a little too prominent. It made me sad. I glanced at Dick and Shane, wondering how age would alter them, and me, if I made it to old.

Leo declared the buffet open and bade everyone to get stuck in before the fish went cold. I made to follow the general exodus to the kitchen, and then stopped, hanging back, forcing myself to look at Shane to see if I had his permission. He waited until everyone had left and then gave a cold nod and a chilly instruction. “Wash your hands before you eat. They’ll have germs on them from the cat.”

I was visited with a mad, suicidal impulse to shove the fingers Gen had licked into my mouth and suck them free of
germs
. I settled for a protest. “Genny only licked my fingers, and she’s hardly a scavenging wild animal. It’s unlikely she has anything nasty.”

“You’re getting far too big for your britches, boy. It isn’t going to end well.” He dusted the seat of my pants with his palm and then put his face close to mine delivering an order and a threat. “DO as you’re told. Wash your hands before you eat or I’ll blister your backside.” He gave me a push. “Get a move on.”

By the time we entered the kitchen, the party had started, with everyone loading up their plates with food and helping themselves to drinks. There were several bottles of wine on the counter top.

I crossed to the sink and rinsed my hands under the hot water tap, conscious of Shane watching.

I wasn’t much hungry, but I picked up a plate. Leo immediately dumped the sandwich I’d pinched the salmon from onto it.

“Yours I believe.”

It was fair action. I made no comment. He turned his attentions to Shane, placing an easy kiss on his lips.

“You look like you need fortifying, love. Shall I pour you a large glass of red?”

“You get something to eat, Leo.” Shane cast a glance at me. “Gilli will get me a glass of wine.”

I got him one, mentally adding a good dash of strychnine to it.

As at most social gatherings, people chose to lurk around the food source, chatting, eating, and drinking. I got a can of coke from the fridge, and helped myself to some of the hot fish platter and a portion of salad to go with my sandwich. I perched on a stool at the breakfast bar to eat. The fish was good, particularly the scallops, definitely a dish to try at home.

After finishing my modest plateful, I clasped the can of coke between my hands and stared at it, wishing it was a pint of Stella I could drown my sorrows in. Sensing being observed I looked up, meeting Dick’s eyes. He smiled and inclined his head in invitation for me to join him where he stood talking with Pat and Vince. I ignored the invite and resumed staring at the coke can, rolling it between my palms, hearing the dark liquid swish and swirl within. I felt disassociated. The conversations taking place around me registered in my brain as an indistinct hum, like background noise from a tannoy system. I was still stuck in a limbo between train stations.

Putting the coke can down, I sucked air through my nostrils and slowly breathed it out, trying to reconnect with my surroundings. Dick was looking my way again, and so was Shane. There was a thread of invisible tension between the three of us. At least I thought it was invisible, until I caught a look on Vince’s face. He’d seen it. Damn. He was coming over.

“Why are you sitting all the way over here?” He leaned against the bar top. “Everything all right?”

“Fine, thanks.” I picked up my can of coke again, raising it to my lips, taking a sip.

“You’re a lucky boy.”

“In what way?”

“Shane and Dick are top blokes. I’m looking forward to watching them play on Boxing Day. I’ve heard Shane is a tough Dom and that he does some pretty hot rope and cane play. I wouldn’t mind sharing a scene with him. Is there any chance do you think?”

“I doubt it,” I said shortly. He and Dick tend to be exclusive.”

“Maybe I’ll ask Leo to put in a word for me. Him and Shane seem close. I heard they were an item once. Is that right?”

“Ask Shane, he loves being quizzed about his private life.” I drained the coke can and crushed it with my fingers, wishing it were Vince’s neck.

He grinned, as if he’d guessed my thought and was amused by it. “Will you be playing with Shane?”

It was as yet a moot point. I manufactured a nonchalant shrug. “I haven’t decided.”

“I can guess why you might be reluctant. I know I like to look my best when I’m on display.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your skin.” He tapped the side of his nose and then pointed at my face. “You should lay off the coke. It’s full of sugar, plays havoc with acne prone skin. You should avoid chocolate too. Try Clearasil, it’s good for spots.”

“Yeah,” I snarled, “and Anusol is good for arseholes. You should try some.”

“Chill, man. I was only trying to help. My father is a consultant dermatologist. I tend to notice bad skin. I’m sure I didn’t mean to offend you.” He spoke the last words a little louder than necessary.

It had the result he meant it to. Dick came over.

“Is there a problem, Gilli?”

“Course not, Dick.” I forced a smile. “We were just swapping beauty tips.” I got off the stool, picked up my plate and went to where the food was set out, making pretence of interest in the buffet, helping myself to some of the cold shellfish and a slice of homemade quiche. I ate without tasting. Vince had bruised me without laying a finger on me. Just how bad did my skin look? The black ball of anger in my gut stirred, longing for a wall to smash against. Bloody meds, and the bloody men who insisted I take them.

Dick approached, looping a confiding arm around my shoulder. “Vince told me he upset you by offering advice about your skin. He meant no harm. It was a clumsy attempt at friendliness. His father is a dermatologist and Vince has an interest too. He said he apologised as soon as he realised you’d taken it the wrong way. He feels rather bad about it.”

“Like hell he does.” I kept my voice low.

“It was tactless I agree, but he seems genuinely sorry. Forgive and forget?”

“Don’t have a lot of choice do I? It’s clear he’s got you onside. If I say no then that’s me in the wrong again, but then I’m always in the wrong, aren’t I?”

“No one is taking sides.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dick. I’m fine with it. He was only speaking the truth after all.” Even I was surprised by the bitter tone of my voice. “My skin is an unsightly mess, and we both bloody know why.”

I slipped from under his arm. Taking my plate I walked over to the kitchen waste bin, tipping crumbs and my crumpled paper napkin into it. I saw an opportunity for a brief escape. “Leo,” I called over to him, “the bin is full. Shall I empty it and put in a new liner?”

He gave me the thumbs up.

After gathering up the rubbish bag I made a point of looking directly at Shane, receiving an almost imperceptible nod of permission to proceed.

Outside, the cold air struck my hot face like a sharp slap. I touched my fingers to my face, feeling the spots clustering my nose. The various stresses and strains of the day probably hadn’t done my skin much good. Water sprang to my eyes. I was a mess from top to toe. No wonder Pat had questioned my legality. The clothes Shane had chosen coupled with my spotty complexion made me look and feel like a gawky adolescent. All I needed was a beanie hat and a skateboard tucked under my arm to complete the look.

I walked to the rubbish and recycling area. Gathering the top of the plastic bag I made to tie it, catching a fishy whiff as I did so.

All at once a wicked sprite took powerful possession of me. I was helpless against it.

I glanced over my shoulder, making sure I was unobserved. Opening the rubbish bag I rooted around, finding the debris from the large prawns I’d shelled earlier. I selected some heads and tails, wrapped them in the festive napkin I’d binned, and slipped them into my pocket.

Tying up the bag I dumped it in the wheelie bin and walked briskly back toward the house, meeting Mike who was on his way out for a smoke. I commented on his unhealthy habit.

He clapped me on the shoulder and issued a mild, “bugger off, Gil.”

I returned to the kitchen. After putting in a fresh bin liner and washing my hands, I looked over to where Leo was chatting with Shane. He had one hand in intimate contact with his shoulder, as they shared some anecdote that had them both smiling. It brought home yet again that I could never be a friend to Shane in the same vein as Dick and Leo. For one thing, I’d have to stretch up to put my hand on his shoulder. It would ruin the entire effect.

Dick was nowhere in sight, and neither was Pat. I assumed they had gone into the lounge to sit in comfort. The BDSM boys were sitting at the breakfast bar and appeared to be practising bondage knots with a twisted tea towel.

I went over to Shane and asked his permission to go for a pee, uncaring that Leo was there. He nodded. I walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind me, standing in the hall for a moment deliberating on what I was about to do. Should I? Vince’s words about my appearance came back to mind, settling my course of action.

Revenge is sweet, as they say. I rubbed my hands together in villainous glee. Not in this case. Sweet wouldn’t feature at all, not in the aroma stakes anyway.

Leo’s space under the stairs has been converted into a cupboard for everyday coats and shoes. I dodged inside, closing the door behind me. Switching on the light, I gave a joyous shake of my fist when I spotted what I’d hoped to spot, Vince’s leather jacket hanging resplendent on a peg. I inspected it. The epaulettes were tight against the shoulders, but not stitched down. Perfect.