Playing With Fire (Glasgow Lads Book 3) (29 page)

“I’ll stop you,” Liam said.

“You’re naked.”

“And what are you?”

Robert looked down at his towel, then at the cigarettes. “Desperate.”

Liam swung his legs over the side of the bed. “We’ll flush them down the toilet.”

“I’ll do it.” He turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom. “Go back to sleep.”

Liam waited a moment before following. He found Robert standing in front of the empty toilet. “Just let me, okay?”

Shoulders slumping, Robert handed over the cigarettes. Liam ripped open the top of the pack so he could pour them all out at once. They cascaded into the water, where they swirled and danced on the surface.

“Wait.” Liam leaned over and counted. “Robert…”

“What?”

Liam held out his hand, waggling his fingers. With a harsh sigh, Robert tossed the cigarette he’d palmed into the toilet. After a moment, he followed it with the other one as well, then pressed the button to flush. Together they watched the watery vortex consume Ma’s cigarettes.

“Thanks, mate.” Robert picked up the remains of his two pairs of boxer shorts, which they’d left on the bathroom floor the previous night. “These were pure genius.”

“I know. I’ll be applying for a patent soon.” Realizing Robert needed a distraction from thoughts of nicotine, Liam took his hand and led him from the bathroom. “We’ve got this place for three more hours. I want my money’s worth.”
Or Fergus’s money’s worth, rather.
He dragged Robert back to the Designated Sleep Bed and threw him down, hard enough to loosen his towel and roll him to the other side. Then he leapt in beside him and yanked the covers over their heads. “Remember that thing I used to do when we were kids, where I’d—”

“If you fart right now, I will kick you in the balls.”

“Aww, you used to be fun.”

“Hey.” Robert grabbed Liam’s hip and held him fast. “I’m still fun.” He threaded his other hand through Liam’s hair, then pulled him into a kiss. Liam snaked his arm around Robert’s shower-smooth waist.

Soon their laughter faded and their kiss softened. With his eyes shut tight, Liam worked up the courage to take the next leap.

“Rab.” He pulled his head back far enough to look into his friend’s eyes, as much as he could see in their dim sheet-cave. “For once I think we should talk.”

“Okay.” Robert sounded full of hope and dread. “You start.”

“Right.” Liam swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I…I really like you.” He traced his forefinger along Robert’s collarbone. “A lot.”

“I like you too. A
lot
lot.” Robert took Liam’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I feel like you’re about to add a ‘but,’ though.”

“Yeah.” With Robert’s clean scent filling his nostrils, Liam was acutely aware of having not yet showered. “I’m still…”
Scared.
“…worried. About you leaving me.”

Robert frowned. “For a woman, you mean.”

“A bit, but not really. I’ve seen you in a million relationships, and you never cheated, or left one lass for another. So I trust you in that department, as much as a nondelusional person can trust anyone they’re—”

“You could come with me.”

Liam stopped. “Sorry?”

“That’s what worries you, isn’t it, me leaving for a job? But if I moved to Dundee or Edinburgh—or even London, God forbid—you could come with me.” Robert set Liam’s hand on the sheet between them, covering it with his own. “Even if we were just friends. I’d be working long hours, of course, but at least we’d be together.” He slid his fingers between Liam’s, making an interlocking knuckle-puzzle. “It could be cool, setting out on our own, the two of us.”

Liam stared at him, trying to imagine it.
The two of us.
“Aye, it could,” he managed to whisper. “Could be cool.”

Robert smiled and crooked his other arm under his pillow. “It’s likely to be Dundee. That’s where the most innovative gaming companies are.”

And it was only ninety minutes from Glasgow, according to Liam’s coworker Scarlett. Perhaps he could still visit his family every week. But how would he support them if he left his job? “What about money?”

“I’ll probably make enough for both of us. If we kept expenses low with a small flat, there’d be enough left over to help your family, too.”

“Ma won’t like taking charity.”

“She opened her home to me after Dad died. Call it payback if it’ll help her pride. Besides, you’ll find a job in no time.”

Liam frowned at his friend’s naiveté. Robert was in a high-demand field, plus he’d been at uni the last three years, insulated from the crap economy. “I doubt Dundee fans will welcome a Celtic barman with open arms.”

Robert snickered. “You might need to be a bit vague about what sort of pub Hannigan’s is.” He pulled Liam’s hand to his shoulder. “Or you could start massage college.”

“I could.” Liam took the hint and dug his fingertips into Robert’s supraspinatus muscle. Just the feel of this skin beneath his palm infused him with a dangerous hope. “But what if my hands get pure tired and I’ve nothing left at the end of the day for my boyfriend?”

Robert gave a soft gasp. “Your…what did you call—”

“I’m referring to my future hot massage instructor, of course.” He widened his eyes. “Did you think I meant you?”

Laughing, Robert pulled him close and kissed him. Soon he moved his mouth to Liam’s throat, then his chest. Then he descended farther, hands preceding lips in a slow, savory exploration.

Though the covers were still over his head, creating a stifling lack of air, Liam didn’t draw them back to breathe. He wanted to remain here in their cotton cavern, where they could pretend that their fantasies would become reality.

Here we are
, he thought.
The beginning of the end.
Perhaps the end would come in a week, or a month, or five years. Whenever it came, it would break him.

But right now, all that mattered was that they were beginning.

= = =

“If I had one of these,” Robert said, “I’d never leave the house.”

Liam merely nodded, too impressed for words as another puffy, perfectly browned pancake slithered out from between the Popcake machine’s belts onto Robert’s plate. They seemed alone in their fascination, as no one else here at the hotel breakfast buffet was gawking at this miracle device.

“I could start a pancake business at my block of student flats.” Robert rubbed the dark stubble on his jaw. “Make a fortune during exam review periods.”

“You’d need a license to do it legally. Pass food-safety audits and all.”

“Nah, it’d be an underground pancake bar. Totally illegal. Like those speakeasies the Americans had during Prohibition.”

“And folk would need a password to get in so you know they’re not the police.” Liam pressed the Popcake’s button, then bent over to watch his own second pancake slowly drift between the contraption’s heating elements. “But sooner or later someone’d grass you out to the authorities.”

“True. Oh, there’s an empty table now. I’ll grab it while you get the rest of your food. Then we’ll swap.” He swept a hand over the back of Liam’s shoulder. “Gonnae bring me a coffee too?”

Liam paused at this casual but intimate touch, something Robert must never have thought twice about doing in public with a lass. “Sure.” He put on a sly smile. “You still take it sweet and creamy?”

“Whenever possible.” Robert turned away with a smirk.

After his third pancake arrived, Liam collected the rest of his breakfast, then went to the coffee and tea station, where he saw one of the women who’d stood behind him during Robert’s song—possibly the one who’d shoved him toward the stage. “Hiya.”

“What you two did last night took a lot of nerve.” The woman’s mock-stern expression transformed into a smile. “We need more of that attitude at Bane. You don’t by any chance work in finance, do you?”

Liam hesitated. “No, I don’t think I could fake that. But thanks.”

He stole a wee server’s tray to carry his plate and both mugs, then made his way into the dining room, where he saw Robert sitting at a small table beside the wall. Liam headed over, conjuring a saucy tavern-wench routine to deliver when he arrived, but stopped short when he glimpsed his boyfriend’s frozen face.

His stomach tumbling over itself, Liam hurried to their table. “What is it?” he asked as he set down their mugs and his own plate. “Don’t you dare say ‘nothing.’”

Robert just stared at his phone, gripping it so tightly it seemed it would shatter. “Sit down and look at this.”

Liam obeyed, taking the device with a trembling hand. Had someone died? Robert had little family left, only a few aunts, uncles, and cousins he barely knew.

The screen showed an email from an Amanda Lewis at something called Ready Fire Game.

Dear Robert,

How’s it going? Do you guys have any sunlight there this time of year? ;)

As you may remember, we met in September at EGX, when you gave a copy of your apps ’n’ games portfolio to me and my co-founder, Dev Sankar. Sorry it’s taken us so long to reach out—you must have thought we forgot about you!

Anyway, it’s now 3:26am. Ten minutes ago I finished playing Tower of Spite. WOW, dude. I’ve never seen such sophistication and complexity in a game built by a solo developer.

Cutting to the goddamn chase, we’d like to interview you ASAP!

Liam stopped reading and started skimming, searching for the company’s location. It was nearly noon now, so unless this message was from yesterday, the fact that Amanda was emailing in the middle of the night meant she was—

We’re based in the Silicon Valley town of Sunnyvale, California. And yes, it’s an apt name, since we get only about sixteen inches of rain per year.

“Fuck.” Liam set the phone on the table between himself and Robert, then nudged it past the halfway line formed by the salt-and-pepper shaker set. “Gonnae go and fetch the rest of your food.”

“I’m not hungry.” Robert’s voice was tiny, making Liam want to look at his face. But he couldn’t raise his eyes from the phone screen, which still displayed Amanda’s exclamation-mark-laden message.

Finally the screen dimmed, then went black.

“Please,” Liam said. “Go.”
Quick, before I throw up.

“Go?” Robert whispered. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to eat more than two pancakes for breakfast. A guy in the buffet queue said the haggis was really good.”
Might as well eat it now, mate, because haggis is probably illegal in a healthy place like Cali-fucking-fornia.

“Oh, I thought you were saying I should—yeah, all right.” Robert slowly got up from the table, leaving his phone behind, something he never did. “Be right back.”

Liam nodded. Now that he was alone, his lungs no longer felt like they were in a vise, so he pulled in a long, shaky breath, then let it out as slowly as he could.

The first coherent thought that broke through the static of panic was,
I wish there’d been a dead cousin.

Liam covered his mouth as if he’d spoken the words aloud. He didn’t truly wish such a tragedy, but at that moment any other message seemed better than the one from Amanda at Ready Fire Game. He would rather have read a missive from an alien invader informing Robert of its plans to conquer the earth next week and enslave every human.

The thought made a sobbing laugh bubble up from Liam’s chest. He swallowed it, turning it into a hiccup, the rapid-fire sort that came every few seconds.

Great.
Liam took a sip of tea. A hiccup came as he swallowed, and he started to choke. He was coughing violently when Robert returned a few moments later.

“You okay, mate?” he asked as he sat down. “Do you need the Heimlich?”

“No.” Liam wiped his eyes with his cloth napkin. “I just inhaled”—he coughed again, louder than ever—“tea.” Another sip of water eased the twitch in his throat. “Had the hiccups.”

“Are they gone?”

“Dunno.” He waited, still avoiding Robert’s eyes. “I think so—
hic
! Fuck.” Liam grabbed his water glass and stood up.

“You’re doing that here?” Robert asked. “In public?”

“No choice.” Liam pinched his nose shut, then bent forward and sipped the water from the far lip of the glass, swallowing while his head was still lower than his throat. He waited to confirm the hiccups were gone, then straightened up, sat down, picked up his knife, and began spreading butter on his pancakes. “I see you got the haggis. The black pudding looked good too. Might go back up for it later.”

“Liam.”

He finally raised his eyes to meet Robert’s. Mistake. The sorrow in their midnight depths threatened to drown him. He could already feel the water rising within himself.

Liam cleared his throat and returned his focus to his plate. “So. Sunnyvale.” His own voice sounded dead inside his skull. “Isn’t that where Buffy the Vampire Slayer lived?”

“That’s Sunny
dale
. It’s supposed to be near LA. Also, it doesn’t exist.”

“Right.” He slathered on more butter.
I wish Sunnyvale didn’t exist, either. No, I wish Sunnyvale
was
Sunnydale in real life, and there really was a Hellmouth that could swallow Amanda and Dev and all their email messages forever.
“You never told me you interviewed with an American company.”

“I didn’t interview with them. I met them—Amanda and Dev—at EGX, a gaming convention in London. I met folk from lots of companies. I should have written them all down, but I’m not nearly so organized. I honestly forgot all about this Ready Fire Game company. That’s why I never told—”

“Okay.” Liam cut his pancakes, trying not to look too aggressive in the act. “You should email them back and accept.”

“There’s nothing to accept. It’s just an interview.” Robert shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap. “Even then, I need to think about it before answering.”

“What’s there to think about? If they want you, you go.” Liam’s voice cracked on the last word. He coughed again, then took another sip of water. “Don’t even think about turning this down, Rab.”

“I need to do more research, see if RFG make the sort of things I want to make. And then of course there’ll be numbers to run.”