Spencer Cohen Series, Book One (The Spencer Cohen Series 1) (14 page)

His whole demeanour changed. His eyes sparked with light and his smile was a cheeky one. He put his hands to the keys and played the funkiest piano solo I’d ever heard. I could picture people from the 20s dancing in some swinging jazz bar to this song. His whole body moved when he played; he put all of himself into the music. It was easy to tell this was what he loved. Sure, he played Beethoven like he respected it. But this, he played jazz because he loved it.

When the song finished, all I could do was sigh. “I could listen to you play all day long.”

“Really?”

“Hell yes. Why does that surprise you?”

He shrugged. “It’s just that it used to bug Eli.”

I stared at him. “It what?”

“Bugged him. If he was reading or whatever. I guess it’s loud and annoying.” He made a face. “I used to play when he was asleep.”

I couldn’t believe it. The more he told me about Eli, the more I wanted to punch him in the throat. “Was he crazy? You playing the piano is like my most favourite thing.”

Andrew’s cheeks heated to a beautiful pink. “Oh. Thanks.”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe he would say that. What a wanker.”

Andrew looked down the keyboard and never replied.

“Sorry, that was out of line,” I said quietly. I was sorry I was out of line. I didn’t say it because I was wrong.

Andrew stood up from the piano. “Well, I should probably go take a shower and get ready,” he said. “Do you mind? I was going to shower earlier but lost track of time.”

“No, it’s fine.” Whether he was going to shower now just to freshen up or to jerk off, I wasn’t sure. I hoped for the latter then had to stop the mental images that caused my dick to stir. Then I spotted his laptop. “Hey, can I borrow your computer for a minute?”

“Sure. Help yourself.”

“Can I check your Facebook? I want to see what Eli’s been up to.”

He blinked. “Um. Oh, okay. I guess.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Just don’t comment or private message anyone pretending to be me. Don’t get into any conversations with my mother, and don’t invite my sister over for dinner.”

I laughed. “Deal.”

Andrew went upstairs, and I took his laptop to the sofa. I wanted to check out Facebook to see what comments were on the photo we’d uploaded but didn’t want to without his okaying it first. So I decided to see what I could dig up on Eli.

The guy was a douche, and what Andrew ever saw in him, I couldn’t even guess. Maybe he was hung. Maybe Andrew had a thing for guys with big dicks.
Well, he should like me just fine
. I snorted and looked around the room like someone might have seen me.

Andrew had a few comments and notifications, which I ignored. None were from Eli, so they weren’t any of my business. I searched up Eli and scrolled through his timeline until I found some photos. With the help of a right-click and ‘search Google’ prompt, I was trawling the web for dirt on Eli.

Nothing out of the ordinary came up. Even with an image search and using the location feature, nothing weird showed up. From what I could gather from my ten minutes with Detective Google, he wasn’t leading some double life or anything creepy or sinister. He was disappointingly normal. Still a douche, but a disappointingly normal douche.

Going back to a general web search, I typed his place of employment in, along with his name, and used keywords like education, degree, and address. And it really was shocking what information was readily available on the Internet.

Eli Masterson had applied for a job at Fujifilm in the graphics department. I didn’t know exactly what he did at his printing job and maybe it wasn’t such a stretch to move from one to the other, but I had to wonder if Andrew knew.

Did Andrew suggest it? Did Andrew try and get him the job?

“So,” I hedged when he came back downstairs. I ignored how good he smelled and how he looked even better with wet hair. “How did you start working at DreamWorks?”

He seemed surprised by my question. “Um, I got my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Character Animation. When I was doing my Masters in Experimental Animation, I actually worked with them as part of my internship.”

“Oh, so it’s incredibly difficult,” I said, rather stupidly. “All you had to say is ‘you need to be the best in the industry’.”

He smiled at that. “Why?”

“No reason exactly,” I said. “What degrees did Eli have?”

Andrew’s eyebrows narrowed. “Why?”

“I’m just wondering why he would have applied for a job at Fujifilm, that’s all,” I told him. “Was he qualified?”

Andrew stared at me in a way that told me, in no uncertain terms, he knew nothing of the job application. “What?”

“Was he a cartoonographer as well?” I asked. “Or maybe he applied for a different division? Something else entirely, maybe?”

He shook his head slowly. “He wanted to do…” He stopped talking. “What do you mean he applied for a job there? When?”

“It only gives the date of publication. Three months ago.” I turned the laptop on my knees so he could see the screen. “But it’s got his name and your address, so it was when he was living here.”

He took a few tentative steps over, then sat beside me. He never took his eyes off the screen. I handed him the laptop and he read the information I’d found. Admittedly it wasn’t much, but it was clearly news to Andrew.

After a long, silent minute, he asked, “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fujifilm have just opened a 3D art division at Universal Studios in Singapore,” he said, brows knitted together. He shook his head. “He doesn’t even have a portfolio for that kind of application. Even in the printing industry, he’d need examples of his work.”

“Andrew,” I said gently. “I don’t know much about how these things, but did he have access to your work?”

He stared at me, his eyes wide and vulnerable, and the colour drained from his face. “Oh no.” He bolted off the sofa and took the stairs two at a time. I followed him as he ran into his closet and he pulled his favourite print off the wall. He turned it over and clawed at the back of the frame, lifting those annoying little metal tabs until he pulled the back of the frame out. He was looking for something. He sighed, pure relief, and held it up. His signature was clearly there, even the ink bleed on the canvas. It was the original.

Then he took another one off the wall, so I did too, and one by one we opened each frame. By the time they’d all been checked, we were sitting on the floor in his closet surrounded by drawing boards and empty frames. Andrew leaned against the wall and sighed. “These are all original,” he said. Though we both knew Eli worked at a printing company. The lady he worked with even said he specialized in framed prints.

Then his eyes went wide. “My dragons,” he mumbled and scampered to his feet.

Oh hell no.

He ran back downstairs and into the living room. He stopped in front of the three framed drawings, like he couldn’t bear to know if those weren’t his originals.

“I’ll check them,” I told him. I gently lifted the first frame off the wall and laid it facedown on his dining table. I undid the metal tabs and pulled the backing off, and there in all its original glory was Andrew’s signature. “It’s yours,” I whispered.

He visibly sagged and put his hand to his heart. “Oh, thank god.”

I checked the other two, and they were the original pieces. “Andrew,” I hedged. “He could have copied them.”

“He’d need original pieces for authentication,” he said. He put his hands to his forehead and barked out a laugh. “God, I almost panicked.”

“Almost?” I asked. If that was almost, I’d hate to see a full-on panic. “I was ready to kill him.”

He laughed, his relief clearly evident. “I feel kinda bad now for doubting him.”

“Andrew,” I said softly. Cautiously. “It doesn’t change the fact he applied for a job in another country while he was living here and didn’t even tell you.”

He looked like I’d slapped him. It took him a while to answer. “Eli might be a lot of things, but he’s not a thief.”

And there it was. He was still defending him, even if he’d thought him capable of stealing just a minute ago. A reminder that he had feelings for him, and I was fucking delusional to think otherwise.

I strangled down my emotions and put on my best front. “Okay,” I swallowed hard. “We better get these all put back together before we head out. Dinner first? I’m kind of hungry.”

He stared at me for the longest moment. “Yeah. Of course.”

By the time we’d left the restaurant, I was ready for this to be over. I tried not to read too much into the way he questioned the waiter on shellfish allergy precautions taken when cooking on my behalf or the way we talked for almost two hours straight without the slightest lull in conversation.

We never mentioned Eli, and that was more than fine with me.

I really needed this to be finished. I needed Eli to either want Andrew back or to walk away for good. As much as I didn’t want it to be over, it was doing my head in. And my heart.

I had to put these foolish feelings aside and concentrate on my job.

The bar was already busy. The jazz music had the crowd buzzed. It was a great spot, and I made a mental note to come back here when Andrew was no longer in my life.

I bought us a drink and found us a tall table, though it was crowded and there wasn’t much room, so we were standing pretty close. Andrew had his back to the crowd, so I could see over his shoulder if Eli decided to show.

And of course he did. I knew he would. We’d baited him, hook, line, and sinker. I put my hand on Andrew’s waist and leaned right in to speak into his ear. “He’s here.”

Eli made his way to the bar, but he was scanning the room. It didn’t take him long to spot us. His eyes were narrowed and stormy, his jaw was set. He was clearly not very happy with me being so close to Andrew. Maybe he recognised me. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.

And then foolish pride and wishful thinking made me take it one step further. I figured this was it. This was the first and last chance I’d have to do this, my one chance to know if he tasted as good as I knew he would. I stepped right in close, pinning Andrew against the table so Eli would have a side-on view. I put one hand on his chest and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t look, but he’s watching us.” I pulled back and put my fingers under his chin. “Can I kiss you?”

Andrew’s eyes went wide, his breath caught, and he nodded. So I softly pressed my lips to his, feeling the warmth of his lips. It was heady, and my stupid heart was hammering. I knew I shouldn’t want more, but my head spun, and pure desire threw caution and reason out the window. My stupid brain was nowhere to be found. I slid my hand along his jaw and tilted his face to mine, and I kissed him properly.

He was soft lips and warm breath, bourbon and everything I wanted. This kiss wasn’t for show. It wasn’t a part of my deal to make his ex jealous; this was me, kissing him because I wanted him. I had feelings for him, confused and frightening feelings that I couldn’t begin to understand.

I was kissing him. Open mouthed, eager lips and tasting tongues. And he was kissing me back. He slid one hand around my back and pulled me closer, the other around my neck. And fuck, he could kiss.

When we slowed and pulled apart, his eyes were unfocused, his lips a little flushed. He looked kiss-drunk and smug.

It was a perfect kiss. He was everything right for me. If a person was designed just for me, to be the yin to my yang, it was Andrew.

Yet, I’d just broken every personal and professional rule I’d ever set for myself. I’d failed not only myself, but Andrew too. He was paying me to provide a service, and I’d crossed the line.

“Uh, wow,” Andrew said breathily. He licked his lips. “God, you can kiss.”

“Not bad yourself,” I said, trying to joke, but the ache in my chest made it impossible to pull off. I took a breath to collect myself and be the professional he needed me to be. We’d somehow changed places, and I now had my back to the bar. “Did Eli see that?”

“Oh,” he recoiled and looked over my shoulder. “Um, he’s gone.”

My heart soared. Usually if they didn’t confront us, it meant the relationship was really over. And that shouldn’t have made me happy. That was the wrong outcome for Andrew. I was so conflicted. My head was a mess, my heart, well, I’d deal with that later. “Andrew, if he’s gone…” And I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to give him the bad news. I didn’t want to hurt him, but it would also mean my job with him was done. I wanted to ask him if what I felt was real, I wanted to ask him if he felt it too. Surely, he did. It couldn’t just be one-sided. “Let’s go, hey?”

He frowned but nodded, and I took his hand and led us through the crowded bar. We were almost to the door when someone grabbed Andrew’s arm.

Eli.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

Eli glanced at me, then back to Andrew. “Can we talk?”

And there it was. My heart squeezed, and the hope that had been there just a moment ago, was snuffed out. This was mission accomplished. Eli wanted Andrew back. Andrew got what he wanted, what he paid me for.

Andrew glanced at me, like he was unsure of what to do. I could see it in his eyes.
Is this part of the plan? What do I say? How do I act?
He was looking at me to take the lead. What I wanted to do was tell Eli to get his hand off Andrew and fuck off.

But I couldn’t. That’s not what Andrew had hired me to do. I forced a smile on my face, and as much as it killed me, I said, “I’ll just wait outside.”

I turned and made my way out of the bar, blood pounding in my ears, my heart hammering and my stomach turning. I just needed air. I needed to leave.

How could one night be the very best and the very worst?

I didn’t wait. I kept on walking.

I’ll just wait outside
, I’d said. Code for good luck.

Oh God, I thought I was gonna puke.

A few blocks later I came up to a liquor store and went in. One bottle of Maker’s Mark later, and I headed for home. I needed to drown my sorrows, and I needed to forget. I needed to kill whatever stupid hope I’d had, to convince myself I wasn’t falling for him.

By the time I saw the neon lights of the tattoo shop, I was drunk. Really fucking drunk. Emilio sometimes worked late, and I was glad to see the lights were still on in the shop. I pushed the door open and tripped up the step, stumbling into the store. “Fuck man, ’Milio, need to fix your step.”

Emilio, who was just finishing up an ink job, stood up. He patted his client and said, “Hang on one minute,” pulled off his glove, and walked over to me. “Daniela!”

Daniela came out from the back, and I tried not to notice how she frowned when she saw me. I held up the now half-empty bottle of bourbon. “Drink?”

Emilio ignored me. Instead he spoke to Daniela. “Call Lola.” Daniela disappeared again, and I turned to face Emilio, but the floor tilted and I swayed. Emilio caught me. “What happened?” he asked.

“Andrew,” I started. “Eli…” And I had to wipe my stupid cheeks because stupid tears fell out of my stupid fucking eyes.

“Oh, man,” Emilio mumbled.

“I thought he was different,” I slurred.

“So did I,” Emilio said.

I sucked back a ragged breath and my voice cracked. “What’s wrong with me?”

He pulled me against him. “Nothing, man. Not one thing.”

Daniela came out. “She’s on her way.”

Then I felt worse than I already did. “She didn’t need to come.”

Daniela put her arm around me. “Come with me,” she said quietly and led me to one of the back cubicles. She offered me a chair, but I opted for the floor instead. I leaned back against the wall, and she kneeled in front of me and put her hand to my face. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Spencer. Not one thing.”

“Why did he…?” I shook my head. I knew the answer to that. “So fucking stupid. I knew he was in love with someone else. That’s why he came to me, to help get him back, and just so happens I’m really fucking good at my job.”

Daniela put her hand to my face. “Oh, Spencer, honey.” She looked so sad, and I couldn’t bear it. I drank more bourbon instead.

It wasn’t long after that Daniela was gone and it was Lola in front of me. She was trying to catch her breath, like she’d ran the whole way here. I thought I had a handle on my stupid emotions, and I did, until I saw the sadness on her face. “Tell me what happened,” she said.

“I kissed him,” I told her. My words were slow and slurred. “Not some ploy, not some strategy. It was me, kissing him.”

“What did he do?”

“He kissed me back. It was, God, it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.” I could still feel the warmth of his lips, the taste of his tongue…

“Then what happened?”

“I kinda panicked and said we should leave, and Eli—fucking Eli—stopped us on the way out.” I took another mouthful of bourbon. Lola took the bottle off me. I didn’t protest. I had to look away from Gabe, who was leaning against the door, looking back at me with the saddest fucking look on his face. I focused on Lola instead. “And I let him go. I fucking let him go.” I couldn’t stop the tears again. “Thought he was different.”

“Oh, hun.”

“And I’m losing my shit,” I said, wiping my stupid tears with the back of my hand. “And it hurts.”

“Because you’re falling in love with him,” Lola whispered.

Then there were other voices and Gabe walked away from the door, but my booze infused mind was stuck on what Lola said. I stared at her, but I couldn’t bear the pity in her eyes, so I looked away and stared at the wall instead. I tried to find the words to deny it but couldn’t. It was never supposed to get to this. I was never supposed to fall in love. More stupid tears came, and I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Stupid fucking tears.”

She squeezed my arm.

“You know why I do what I do?” I asked, looking at her. My words were thick with tears. “Emotional detachment. Distance and separation. And no one can tell me they don’t want me.”

And there it was.

It always came back to that.

No one can tell me they don’t want me.

“Oh, Spencer,” Lola whispered. Her eyes welled with tears. “Andrew’s not like your family.”

I shook my head and breathed in deep, trying to get a fucking grip. It didn’t work. “He didn’t want me either,” I said with a wave of fresh tears.

The room started to spin a little and it took a while for my stupid brain to realise Andrew was standing in front of me. His eyes were wide, no doubt the sight of me losing my shit on the floor was a shock to him. He’d obviously just heard what Lola said about my family. I wiped at my stupid fucking tears, just as Lola turned to see who I was looking at. She stood up and went to him, whispering something I couldn’t hear. I pulled my knees up and dug the heels of my hands into my eyes again.

When I looked up, I was expecting him to be gone. I was expecting him to have bailed, fled the ball of crazy, sitting drunk, crying on the floor. But he didn’t. He picked up the bottle of bourbon and sat his arse down next to me. Instead of telling me I was stupid, instead of telling me I was unwanted, he put the bottle to his mouth and took a swig. He hissed at the burn.

“Andrew,” I tried to say, but my voice cracked.

He slid his hand over mine and held it tight. “It’s okay.”

I shook my head. “Eli?”

“Eli’s gone.”

Oh God. “S’my fault. I fucked up. Sorry.”

He took another mouthful of bourbon and squeezed my hand. “No. You didn’t. He did. But I’m glad,” he said. “Because of him, I met you.”

My heart hammered and he was saying all the right words, and he hadn’t run a mile when he saw me, like it meant maybe I had a chance. It brought fresh tears to my eyes. “I’m a mess.”

He threaded his fingers with mine. “I can see that.”

I hung my head. Tired, drunk, and an emotional fucking wreck. “You saw through all my bullshit,” I told him. I held out our joined hands and pointed to the blackbirds on my arm. “And these. No one has ever…” I shook my head and swallowed back new tears. “This one is my dad.” I pointed to the biggest. Then to the other three in turn. “My mum, my two brothers.”

He ran his other hand over my arm, as though his touch could heal the pain there.

“They’re not really dead,” I whispered. “Well, they are to me. That’s what my father said, the last thing he said to me was that I was dead to them.”

“Oh, Spencer.”

I let the tears fall. I didn’t even try to stop them. “I was sixteen,” I choked out. “And gay.”

He let go of my hand so he could put his arm around me, and he pulled me against him. That warm, safe place I hadn’t felt in years. “N’then there was you,” I mumbled.

He kissed the top of my head. “And then there was you.”