Chapter 2
Packing was an altogether different experience in that silent flat, but he had enough large suitcases to fit his clothes, and a couple of personal items, some books, and his favorite mugs.
Hesitating to take that picture of them off the wall, because what if he did and it made Trent come back?
Facing that happiness which had been blasted into the sun, somehow.
Fuck. Leaving it, he did a last sweep of the closet, of the bedroom…
oh, right. He pulled a drawer out, his hand hovering over the various sex toys.
Taking a large, pink vibrator out, knowing that would piss Trent off because he loved that toy, but fuck you, you can shove whatever in your ass now…
He put it in his bag, and looked around one last time.
He had left the cake to rot on the floor.
No matter. He can clean it up, that fuck.
Taking his phone, he almost wrote some words which could have brought Trent some relief, but then, his wrath took over, that love turned into bitter embers. Typing.
-I moved out
Sending it. Waiting. His phone rang. Trent. Hesitating, but he declined it. Fuck you. Declined it again as he dragged his suitcases out. Declining it again as he packed them in the elevator and called a cab. Fuck you. Message. He looked at the screen.
-you’re being childish just wanted to wish you well
He almost blew up right there, his head pounding, but then, decided not to call and not to message, because what the fuck for… what for… keeping those burning tears in. Discipline. Come on. Focus. Pulling his suitcases out of the elevator, he walked to the porter and handed him his keys.
“Sir?”
“I’m moving out, Wallace. Trent will pick up the keys when he’s back.”
“I see… I’m sorry.”
“No worries… wishing you all the best.”
“And to you, sir…”
Duncan just nodded and left before his tears would spill. He dragged his suitcases on the curb as the cab pulled up. The driver got out to help him stash his luggage in the trunk. Duncan gave him the address then, getting an appreciative whistle.
“That’s an upgrade!”
“It’s work.”
Not wanting to have that guy think he was moving in with some rich fuck.
Maybe I am… Fuck… His mind on that young man, the mere thought of him sending his blood pumping with rage.
That’s going to be some assignment… Bracing himself, doing some mental exercises to calm down when he was drenched in grief, floating in a nightmare.
You had worse, so much worse… but that had been different, a different kind of torture, torture which shouldn’t exist in a civil life, far from real dangers…
A small moan, to kill that ache in his chest threatening to burst it.
He typed a message. The last one as far as he was concerned.
-I left the key with Wallace and fuck you don’t try to find me or call
Sent. He blocked him straight away, not wanting to have his words rip his heart open even more.
Blocked him on socials too, his family, the friends he knew would side with Trent.
Rubbing his face, he squeezed his thumb and index finger in the nook of his eyes, rubbing, trying to get rid of his headache.
A pill. Popping the bottle in his backpack, he fished one out and swallowed it dry.
Trent had joked about it, how he could swallow dry…
Fuck… His eyes on the landscape shifting, up the hill to a rich neighborhood.
He knew the area, having worked for other rich clients, but this side of the hill was unknown, with huge mansions overlooking the sparkling city.
Rich fucks… as if all those tiny lights were beacons of poverty in that setting night.
The cab pulled up to a wrought iron gate, and a security guard walked out. Duncan showed him his ID. He just opened the gate and gestured them in.
The car, rolling up to that huge mansion, Henry was already waiting on the steps when they stopped on that immaculate white gravel screeching under the cab’s tyres.
Duncan paid and got out, taking his suitcases out of the trunk, but several valets had already appeared and took them away.
A tall man, with grey hair and a circular beard walked to Duncan with Henry.
He held his hand out and Duncan took it. Both checking the other as their eyes met, and their hands squeezed.
“I’m Martin Evans, Head of security.”
“Duncan Lambert.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“Hopefully nothing too bad.” He smiled to take the edge off his words.
Martin smiled back. “No, nothing bad.”
Henry looked at Martin. “Duncan will need the car keys, and being shown around the premises, but I guess you know that. He’ll pick up Spencer tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll show him around, and make sure he’s settled.” He looked back at Duncan. “Though technically I’m not your boss, right? But if you need anything, I’m the person to talk to.”
“Sure thing.” Grateful a bit that Martin didn’t seem a total ass, and was older.
Henry smiled at him. “Great. I’ll let you move in and walk around. Welcome to our home.”
Duncan and Martin watched him leave, and the older man turned to him. “Come, I’ll show you your flat. It’s fortunate that the previous guard moved out fast, you can get that small flat on top of the server rooms. It has outside stairs so you have your own little home in a way.”
Duncan followed him through a park, a bit further from the house.
Martin pointed at a larger building to the back.
“That’s the garage… more like an exhibit hall.
It’s fucking huge. Spencer has an armored car, but nothing you haven’t driven before, I gather.
I’ll give you the key.” Glancing at Duncan.
“I hope you will last because I’m tired of showing guys around. ”
Duncan’s heart tightened. “Uh… that bad?”
“The young man is challenging, to say the least… You met him?”
“Yes, at the hospital.”
“Drunk, still, I bet. He’s even worse outside… but you’ll see. Here’s your flat.”
They walked up the stairs lining the back of the building to a small landing.
Martin opened the door. The suitcases were already there in a small hallway leading to a kitchen area, and to the right a living room, with a door to the bedroom to the right.
Large windows circled the flat, giving on trees and the park, and to the path they had taken.
“Bathroom from the hallway. It’s small but functional.”
Duncan’s eyes roamed around, a tiny relief in all that grief. “It’s all I need.”
“No fuss, right? I like that. Here’s the key. Let’s go to the house, you can unpack later and have a good night’s sleep before you have Spencer. Make the most of it because you might be doing late nights. A lot of them.” He chuckled, and Duncan just followed him outside, closing the door.
Back to that huge house, Martin showed him around. The classic stairs to the top floors, behind the house a huge pool with sundecks, a large terrace, a breath taking view on the city from that park too, ending in marble railings.
On the second floor, Martin pushed a door in. “That’s Spencer’s room…”
It had been cleaned, somewhat, but the smell of spilled alcohol was floating in the air, despite those large windows open, the white curtains floating in that slight wind.
A huge double bed, white and black on the left, and a sofa and armchairs on the right with a small glass table.
On that right wall, a huge greyscale photo, a young man, his eyes rimmed black, his lips parted, that lush, wavy hair framing his face, and for a fleeting moment, Duncan had to blink at that vision, trying to couple that stunning young man to that wreck he had seen in that hospital bed.
His dark eyes filled with hate when on the picture, they seemed almost at peace, a tiny smile there, a dreamy look.
Martin smirked. “Nobody can resist the little fucker’s charms. Pardon my words.”
“I’m not into twinks.” Pinching his lips because the last thing he wanted was to out himself.
Martin scoffed. “Right. Well, no worries, we’re not homophobes here or anything.”
Great, just fucking great… “Ok… thanks, I guess.”
“Now, there’s this door, and this one, leading to his workshop.”
He pushed it open, and they glanced in, huge canvases lining the walls, botched with colors, and naked forms, from what Duncan could see, but he didn’t know much of art, so they closed the door, and went to the windows.
Martin gestured down. “He climbed out a couple of times and managed to jump down to the terrace’s roof where he cracked the glass and sprained his ankle.
Sometimes, he sits on the edge and taunts his parents that he’ll jump.
I offered to have the windows grated up but they said he’d just jump from another one. ”
“He’s suicidal?” Duncan’s eyes roamed those tall windows, the void to that thick glass roof, the panels wedged between dark metal.
“Fuck knows. He’s crazy enough.”
Crazy… Duncan bit his tongue not to comment on the word.
“You’ll have your hands full. He parties, sometimes here, sometimes at their countryside house, sometimes in town.
He’s a young prodigy, or so his mother says, and has exhibits, is invited to all sorts of events, and of course, the modelling…
has a shitty temper too, zero respect. If I were his father, I’d whack his face in, but he’s been spoiled and has no control. ”
Duncan kept quiet, not even wanting to go near his memories, but they flashed in.
Hiding behind his father when his mother had lost it, his heart hammering.
His dad had taken those blows, with that cool calm he had had, pushing him to go to his room and lock himself up.
Lying about his bruises at work the next day…
When he could be there. Not always. He walked around to clear the memories, looking at the cigarette burns in that creamy carpet.
Martin joined him. “Come, let’s finish the tour.”
“The perimeter?”