Chapter 10 #2
“Fuck off, Grant.” I turn to face the stairs and take them two at a time to get to my bedroom.
I tug down my jeans and clamber into my bed.
I bury my head in a pillow and howl out loud as the scent of Drake fills my nose.
How has my life gone to shit? Oh yeah, it’s because I’ve got no balls, and I’m afraid to stand up for myself.
That I’ve put my career and money over the man I love.
I don’t even need any more money; I’ve got more than anyone should have.
Am I afraid of being not just outed but being a Dom. How many parents will suddenly stop letting their kids listen or come and see my shows? I honestly don’t know.
It’s dark when I hear a knock on my bedroom door. “Rafe, I’ve ordered food. Come and eat.”
I haven’t given another thought to Grant. I can’t believe he’s still here. “Go home, Grant. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”
Instead of retreating footsteps, the bastard has the audacity to open the door.
Not just a crack to look around, oh no, he opens it wide.
“Get up, Rafe. Stop being such a brat. I’ve saved your career.
If that photo got out, you’d be ruined. All my hard work gone up in smoke.
All because you and that perverted man.” His face is getting redder as he starts on the same lecture I’ve had over and over today.
“If you’d looked at the photograph, you would have seen it was me with the flogger in my hand. Don’t you think that makes me just as perverted.” I cock my head and watch him get angrier. Then I get out of bed and pull my jeans back on.
“Led astray by a deviant, more like,” he snarls.
Seriously, if smoke could come out of his ears, it would be.
When did he become this bad? I truly thought he wanted me to look and act straight to appease the record company and the tweenies fan-girling over me.
Now, I think there’s more to it. He actually sounds disgusted, the sneer on his face only confirming my suspicion.
“Hardly. You employed him; you did all the background checks. He never hid his sexuality, nor did he flaunt it. So why now? Why after a very important night for the pair of us has a photograph taken from a very expensive and exclusive club landed on your desk?” Am I really going down this path?
Does Grant have anything to do with it? How would he find out; it’s not like he’d ever step one foot inside Bent.
“Be careful what you’re implying, boy. I can still break you.” Despite all his puffed-up chest and snarls, a flash of guilt crosses over his face.
“Why, Grant? Why would you do this to me?”
“That’s enough! You need to remember who you’re talking to, boy,” he growls at me.
Christ, he’s really got one on. I’m getting more and more convinced that he knows more about it than he’s saying.
But why? I don’t know how to find out. A thought crosses my mind; I can go to Bent and see if I can speak to the owner.
I’ll call to make an appointment. One thing for sure, I’m looking for a new manager. I’ve had enough of his control.
With a long-suffering sigh, I run my fingers through my hair. I want to be alone with only my stupidity for not standing up for Drake, for not picking him. “Please, just go. This day has gone on for long enough.”
“Leave him. Don’t call him. I’ll know if you do.” He turns around and stomps out of my bedroom and down the stairs. I follow him, wanting to make sure he leaves.
This time, instead of pain ripping through my heart, anger is taking its place.
“Mr Barclay? Warwick Barclay?” I ask over the phone. I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him; I doubt he’ll approve of my choosing my career over my lover. But he is the man to get me information I need. If Drake thought so highly of him, I know I can trust him.
“Yes, and you are?” His voice is deep and commanding. I can imagine him as a Dom, and I think even I would obey him.
“Um, yes, sorry. I’m Rafe Quartermaine. I was Drake’s partner and Dom. I wonder if it’s possible to ask a couple of questions.” I wince at the past tense of our relationship. It’s been three weeks since I watched him leave without saying a word. I’ve stayed hermit-style in my home, often in my bed.
“Ahh,” he says in acknowledgement, then says. “Was? Are you not together anymore?”
Fuck! Yeah, I’d expected that to be the word he picked. “Um, no. Sorry, we’re not.”
“That’s a shame; you made a beautiful couple. He loves you very much. But let’s get to the point of your call. What do you want to know?”
I want to cry at his remark, but I swallow the lump in my throat.
“I wondered if you have spoken to Louis, and if there was a reason or another person involved.” I’ve completely ignored and refused to see Grant.
I still think he’s behind all this mess.
That he purposefully ruined my relationship with Drake
He’s silent, but I can hear the tapping of a keyboard of a computer, so he hasn’t ended the call. “Haven’t you spoken to Drake at all? I forwarded the outcome of my interview with Louis Baker to him.”
“No, my manager fired him after he’d been to see you. And before you comment, I know I’m chickenshit for not standing up to him. But this career is all I have now.”
“Well, you had a perfect relationship as well as a career, didn’t you? That’s beside the point now, isn’t it. But I’ll tell you what I told Drake. Yes, Louis was paid by someone to take the pictures. He has been banned from this and any other club in the London area.”
My blood turns icy-cold, because I know who it is. “It was Grant, my manager, wasn’t it?”
“It was. Here’s a little piece of advice for you, Rafe: get yourself a new manager. He’s not a good man. In fact, after I spent some time looking into him, he’s dangerous.”
“Yeah, I know. I think he’s tracking my phone and probably listening in on my calls. I’ll be firing him today. Maybe it’s time I took a step back; I need to sort my shit out.” I pause, the words on the tip of my tongue. Fuck it. “Do you think he’ll want to talk to me?”
Warwick sighs, he knows I’m not talking about Grant. “I don’t know. Drake had a tough start, and it takes him a long time to trust. You made the wrong choice, and you hurt him. It will take a lot to win him back. But for what it’s worth, I think you were perfect together.”
“Thank you for everything, Mr Barclay, I appreciate your help.” I end the call before he answers. He can’t dislike me anymore than I do.
The next call is to my lawyer—Alex—not the same one that sat in Grant’s office looking like we were shit on his shoe.
No, this is my own personal one, and explain what I want to do.
We work out a plan of action. Rather than barge in, guns blazing, we’re taking an official stance.
I can use gross misconduct for starters.
And when we’ve gone through my contract, Alex is confident he’ll be able to find other conflicts of interest.
It’s taken a couple of weeks to get all the information on Grant.
In addition to the photograph and subsequent blackmail, he’s been tracking my phone.
He had us followed, which is how he found out about Bent.
All it took was to find a man in need of some cash, aka Louis, and job done.
Not to mention the couple of hidden cameras in my bedroom, so well hidden in the ceiling light and the mirror that Drake hadn’t found them.
Anyway, it’s enough to fire him, to have him prosecuted.
How he reacts today will be the decider.
Alex is already in my office when I open the door to Grant.
The man that has been with me since the very first appearance on the talent show.
His unwavering belief in me and unlimited knowledge of the industry has been faultless.
So, I don’t understand why, why he has turned against me this way.
He’s been a better father figure to me than my own.
God, I wish Drake was here.
“It’s about time you talked to me. I never took you for a sulker.” He struts past me, briefcase in hand and a condescending sneer on his lips. “You look like shit. What’s going on, Rafferty?” He heads in the direction of the kitchen.
“Let’s go in my office,” I say, trying not to sound nervous. I have no reason to be. In fact, I have every right to be angry, and I am. I’m so fucking furious with him. I take a deep breath and channel the fury. “After you,” I hold the door open for him to pass.
He pauses when he sees Alex. “What’s going on?” With narrow eyes, he continues in.
I walk past him to the large leather chair behind my desk.
Alex is casually leaning against the bookcase, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He gives me a smile, then straightens up.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. We have been reading through your contract and have found a few grey areas, ones that suit you more than your client. We’ve also found that you track Rafe’s whereabouts through his mobile phone.
” He holds up his hand when Grant starts to stutter indignantly.
“You can speak in a moment. Rafe has also uncovered the hidden cameras. Then…” He drawls out the word, building anticipation, or dread, I suppose, depending on who’s listening.
“Then we find out that you are behind the photograph, the very private photograph, and the subsequent attempt at blackmailing your client. With all that said, you’re being dismissed, relieved of your position, let go, or even more succinctly fired.
You are fired. And if you try to cause trouble, my client is well within his rights to take this matter to the police. ”
I shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as I am, watching Grant’s face get redder and redder as he holds his tongue. I should be seeing steam coming out of all orifices, well, the ones on his head. When he turns to me, the red is now puce and blotchy, and he’s pointing his finger.
“Him, he should be on his knees, begging for me to stay quiet. He’s a fucking queer, a faggot! He’s a sicko that likes to whip his boyfriend. What would his adoring fans think about that? I’ve got the fucking video.” Spittle flies from his lips as he works himself up into a total mess.
“I know. I’ve seen him in action; he’s quite beautiful,” Alex says with a small smile playing across his lips. “Unfortunately, with your attempt at blackmail, again, we have no other choice but to inform the police.”
“You can’t do that; I’ll be ruined.”
“There’s another option,” I say, even though I’m beginning to like the idea of him in court.
It would mean my life and Drake’s would be opened up wide.
It will probably ruin me, but I’ve realised I can live without my career, I’m wealthy enough, I can’t have Drake’s life exposed.
He’s the only one who did nothing wrong.
“This is an NDA. Sign it and everything stays in this room. One word, a squeak from you and I’ll go to the police.
You’re a dangerous man; your homophobia makes you unstable.
My other condition is you leave the industry, you stay away, very far away from everyone.
You’ve made enough money, go retire somewhere hot.
” The chances of being able to enforce that last part are slim, but the threat is there.
I can see he wants to argue, to take control, to do or say something hateful. But he doesn’t; he knows we’ve got him over a barrel. Alex approaches him, a fountain pen in his hand. “You can’t do anything else.”
It’s all done. Grant leaves, and Alex follows soon behind him.
I’m exhausted, physically and emotionally drained. I have a glass of red wine on the island in front of me. It’s Drake’s favourite.
I’m messing with my phone, turning it over in my hand.
Fuck it!
Me: I’m sorry. I miss you. I love you. I wish you were here.