Chapter 3
When they got back to the mansion, Duncan opened the door for Spencer who just pushed his empty coffee cup in his hand.
“Thanks for the ride. I gather I won’t need you for the rest of the day so you can do whatever the fuck you want. I’ll buzz you if I change my mind and need to move. Shoo-shoo!” He made a chasing gesture with his hands, his lips in that mocking smile.
Fuck you. “As you wish.”
Spencer just smirked and left him, walking in, his mother’s voice behind the door.
Duncan looked at the empty cup in his hand, cursing softly under his breath.
Still, he sat back in the car and put the cup in the holder, driving then back to the garage, but he made sure to park the car ready to go.
Throwing the cup in the bin, he also took a large swig of his coffee.
Still warm in that thermos, a blessing. He went then to the security building.
Martin was there and smiled at him. “How did it go?”
“He’s home and told me to fuck off for the day.”
Martin laughed. “That’s him. He’s pretty safe here, of course, but just be ready to be called there on a whim. Or to drive him somewhere. You never know with that idiot.”
Two men and a woman walked in then, their hair cropped short. Straight to Duncan, extending their hands. A man in his fifties, maybe, a younger one, built like a cupboard, and the woman, her dark hair short with light brown skin.
The older one greeted Duncan. “Spencer’s man, right? Boy oh boy. I’m Sully, and this is Cole, we’re Henry’s guards.”
The woman gave him a broad smile. “I’m Vic. Her ladyship’s sidekick.”
“Duncan.”
Sully went to the coffee machine. “Welcome to our little club.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Duncan. “You have your hands full already?”
“Yeah…”
Vic grinned. “I have to go, sorry guys. Her ladyship is due for her Botox injections.”
Cole smacked her shoulder. “And you?”
“Jode te, chico.” She pulled a tongue at him and flicked him the finger as she left.
Cole looked at her muscled ass swaying in her pants. “Man… too bad she swings to the other side.”
Duncan sighed, trying to quietly drink his coffee when Martin perked up. “Just like Duncan here.”
Sully and Cole turned to him. “You’re gay?” A genuine surprise there.
Duncan shrugged, smiling above that sudden anger at Martin. “Yes.”
Sully whistled. “Man, with your build and how manly man you look? Who would have thought.”
Duncan wasn’t sure what to reply. What the fuck did these men think? “Thanks… I guess…”
Cole patted his shoulder. “No worries, man. We’re all cool, with Vic being lesbian, you know. Like it’s not an issue.”
Duncan just wished they would shut up. “Sure… I wasn’t worried.”
They all laughed, and started some small talk which flew over Duncan’s head like a cacophony of frogs in a lake on a summer night.
Just glimpsing the essential words amidst all the bullshit so he could answer if they ever asked him, but thankfully, he was still new and they sort of ignored him.
What to do? He politely waved at them, and hurried to his flat to cook something and feed that grumbling stomach.
Eating in that silence, he opened his laptop to look at the plans and documents Martin had sent. Glancing at his phone when it buzzed so he picked it up. Gavin, a common friend, one he thought would be safe not to block.
-hey, Trent is desperate to reach out and have a few words just reply that you’re ok? Give him a chance to explain
Fuck. You. He typed.
-I’m out of town not interested in his bs
Blocked too. Fuck you. A tiny warmth had nestled in his chest though. Desperate. And you should be, low-life fuck. Rot.
A tiny grief there, its claws planted in his heart filled to the brim with that sudden hate.
He worked though, memorizing the plans, the rules, the protocols, and read what he could on the family.
A few articles on Spencer’s scandalous outings…
Paparazzi photos of that wild eyed youngster, dead drunk, lashing at the cameras, surrounded by his friends, tugging each other in front of a club. Fuck.
His caller rang then so he answered it.
A soft voice. “Come to my room.” Click.
Duncan blinked at the receiver but he knew that voice, so he got up and pulled his suit jacket on.
Walking to the mansion, he swiped his card and stepped in, going straight up to Spencer’s room. Knocking, that faint acrid smell of smoke already seeping from under the threshold.
“Come in…”
Duncan pushed the door in, reeling at that thick smoke pervading the room. Jesus… Breathing shallow, he went straight to the window and opened it wide.
Spencer was sprawled on the sofa, in the same pyjamas and robe, but he was barefoot, smoking a joint, blowing the smoke to the ceiling.
He grinned at Duncan. “Can’t stand good old weed?”
“You could get high just by breathing in here.”
Spencer chuckled. “Oooh, will you get high, mister Uptight?”
Duncan stood next to the window, crossing his arms. “Unlikely.”
“I never expected any other reply from you, mister Righteous… I’m still looking for your nickname…” His dark eyes roamed him, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed so at ease, Duncan shifted a bit under his gaze.
He blew the smoke out, thick, rolling it off his tongue as he put the joint out in a large crystal ashtray. Taking a large glass of whiskey, he sipped at it, his eyes not leaving Duncan. “We’re going out… soon… to a party. What’s the time?”
Duncan looked at his watch. “Nearly 7 p.m.”
“9 then, I guess…”
“Dinner first?” Worried that the young fuck would drink on an empty stomach.
A mellow smile crept on Spencer’s mouth. “You’re not my mum.”
“No. But I have to make sure you’re not useless by the end of the night. Which means no drinking on an empty stomach.”
“I’ll throw up then…”
“Better than getting an ulcer and getting drunk twice as fast.”
Spencer almost objected, poking his tongue out between his teeth, but his mind was drenched in that mellow peace weed brought, time bought, maybe. “Alright… Mum… bring some food up.”
“Me?”
“Who else? You want me to eat? You serve it.” He laughed, soft, and gazed at the ceiling, floating a bit.
Duncan just left and went straight to the kitchen. He introduced himself, but the cook just prepared a platter for him, and covered the dishes.
She handed it to him, sad. “It will go to waste. Come, eat first. You won’t have time.”
“I’ll eat later.”
He grabbed the platter and brought it upstairs, fuming a bit that he was playing the server, but he knocked and waited to be called in.
He put the platter on the table next to the sofa. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Food.”
Spencer chuckled but sat up and took the cover off. “Oh, some meat and veggies, very healthy… could we go to get a cheese burger instead?”
He almost put the cover back when Duncan wedged his hand under it.
“No. You eat now, shower and change into decent clothes, then we can go, and maybe you’ll get a burger too.”
“You’re annoying as fuck.”
“Thanks.”
Spencer pulled a face but ate, fussing a bit with the food, eating with his fingers. Drinking more. “These are designer clothes… not that you would know, in your cheap ass suit.”
“That’s quite an expensive one.”
Spencer smirked. “Well, it’s ugly as fuck…”
“Because pyjamas aren’t?”
Spencer snickered and met his eyes. “Pyjamas? This is a silk outfit. But what would you know of silk…” He wiped his mouth in his sleeve. “Time to change.”
“Shower first.”
“I stink?” Mocking.
Duncan shrugged. “I can’t smell it above all the weed and alcohol.”
“Clever chap…” He rose, and swayed a bit, but managed to shuffle to the bathroom.
Duncan listened to the shower, the toilet, whipping his gaze away when Spencer walked out wrapped in a towel.
“Oh, shy?”
“Put something on. I’m not paid enough to look at your body.”
Spencer scoffed, his voice coming from the dressing room. “That’s my line.”
“Yeah, well, it’s mine now.”
Waiting, fuming a bit, that half-eaten plate getting on his nerves. He hated wasting.
He looked at Spencer when he walked out, in tight black jeans and a loose dark red shirt tied at the waist. He had left it unbuttoned at the top, down to his navel. His eyes just lightly rimmed in black, he was looking at his nails, various silver rings on his fingers.
“I need to have a manicure… maybe tomorrow. No time now.” His mocking eyes went to Duncan. “Get ready and bring the car over. Oh, don’t dress like a penguin… something less posh even if that club is just that. Maybe dark jeans and a shirt?”
Duncan had stood. “I don’t need your fashion advice.”
Spencer grinned, lighting his joint again as he sprawled on the sofa. His eyes went to Duncan, half-hooded, with that insolent smirk on his sharp lips. “I think you do. Shoo-shoo… Hurry.”
Duncan just swallowed his words, and left, his blood buzzing under his skin.
Fuck. He could have howled, but instead, went back to his flat and changed.
All black because fuck that kid. Black jeans, a black long sleeved shirt.
Musing a bit to bring the gun but then, where to put it…
Fuck. Maybe it wasn’t needed in a club anyway.
Who would want to harm this asshole junky? Tsk.
He got the car and parked it in front of the stairs, sending a quick message to Spencer, but he was already walking out, on his phone, typing as he sat in whilst the valet held the door open.
He looked at Duncan; his eyes glazed with alcohol and weed. “Let’s go… Tropica Club.”
Duncan brought it up on the GPS, but it was amongst the favorites anyway. Downtown, a posh club.
Driving there, he made sure to keep an eye on Spencer who kept typing on his phone, laughing sometimes.
Pulling the car up to the club, he left the key to the car boy, and trailed Spencer to the entrance. Straight to the WIP one. The guard unhooked that thick red rope, casting a questioning glance at Spencer.
Spencer smirked. “My guard d…. guard.” Curbing that word he almost said into that last letter, his amused eyes went to Duncan. “Polite enough?”