Chapter 8
Ryder made oatmeal and toast for breakfast because he didn’t know what Mister Charlie would want. He let the man sleep in, just sitting in one of the big windows, coffee in hand.
Lord have mercy, that had been one weird-assed night, but he thought he’d done okay. He’d called Roper, who’d said he was solid, that everything was good on his end too.
No one would have found him in this big old place a year ago, but a year ago he was a different man on a different path.
Now he had a salary and benefits and paid vacation and shit, and he was working for—maybe even serving some—an older man with not just a big place, but with a big life to go with it.
He guessed the whole thing was going to work for him, at least for a while. It really was an easy life, and he had all the books available on earth, so he was solid.
He was going to have to watch himself, remind himself every day that Mister Charlie was not his friend, not someone who cared about him, any more than a decent person cared about anyone.
He was the help.
“Good morning.” Charles was dressed in soft pants and a loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “I’m following the scent of hot coffee.”
“There’s a pot, sir. Have a seat.” He stood up, taking his book with him to stow in the bedroom once he’d poured out. “How’s the head?”
“Mm. I have a very undignified hangover, but it could be worse. Do I have anything on my calendar today?” Charles sat in a comfy chair and rested an ankle on one knee.
“No, sir.” He peeked at his phone, just to be sure. Nope. Excellent. Go him. It didn’t take much to fix Charles’s coffee, heat up his own, and deliver the cup. “Let me go put this away, and I’ll get your breakfast together when you’re ready.”
Charles took the coffee and blew on it. “Go easy on breakfast, I’m not sure how my stomach is going to handle food.”
“I made oatmeal, and there’s toast. You just let me know.” Poor, sweet man.
“Oatmeal sounds nice. With a little cinnamon maybe.” Charles’s eyes were on him, watching him.
“You got it.” It was keeping warm in the slow cooker deal. Thank God for Google. “You want cream in your oatmeal?”
He was going to do banana, maple syrup, and pecans. Assuming there were pecans.
Did New York apartments come with pecans?
When Charles wasn’t watching him from the living room, he was cradling his mug in both hands and sipping it reverently. “Oh, this hits the spot.”
“Good deal.” He delivered the bowl of oatmeal, pondering those pecans. “You need more, sir?”
“Not yet, thank you. Have you eaten? Would you care to join me?” Charles gestured to the chair across from his.
“I haven’t. Give me a couple minutes to make my bowl. Do you know if there are pecans here, by any chance?”
“Here in the apartment, I very much doubt it. I haven’t stocked much in the kitchen since I usually eat out so much when I’m here. I imagine you can find some down the street at the market.”
“Ah. No worries. I don’t need them.” He made his banana-maple oatmeal, adding some granola for crunch. “Do you want toast?”
“No, thank you. I think I’ll just see how this sits first.” Charles looked better already though, he had more color in his face and his eyes looked brighter.
“The pills should have helped. I had a little sorority gal tell me about them, years ago.” And she’d been no bigger than a minute.
“I only vaguely remember you giving something to me. I was—I apologize, Ryder. That was very poor and irresponsible behavior on my part. I’m rather embarrassed, to be completely honest. I recall asking questions and—other things I shouldn’t have asked of that were very much outside your scope of employment with me. ”
“I didn’t take advantage, I swear.” But he got what Charles meant. It was just reiterating what he’d told himself this morning.
He wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t supposed to be sharing.
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that. I only meant that it was probably awkward for you; you didn’t sign on to do all of that. But it was much appreciated.”
He didn’t know what the appropriate thing to say was. He didn’t know how to do this, or how to feel, or whether or not he was supposed to feel anything. Likely not. “You were fine. You did fine.”
Charles nodded. “Well, in any case, you’re a very special person, Ryder. Thank you.” Charles took another sip of his coffee.
“Thank you, sir.” What did he do now? What did he talk about? What did he say? “Everyone I spoke with was real nice.”
“They’re a good group for the most part.
Victor and I have known each other a long time, so it felt as if it would be a good place to start.
There are always a few bad eggs and, unfortunately, Lewis is one of them and turns up nearly everywhere.
I doubt that will be the last time we run into him.
I’d completely forgotten him, to be honest, but I’ll be better prepared the next time. ”
“He was an ass. No redeeming qualities last night.” He had to wink. Had to.
“Zero,” Charles agreed. “Just so. I knew you were a keeper.” After a few more bites of his oatmeal, Charles seemed to be more relaxed.
“I think I’d like soup for lunch. Chicken noodle or perhaps minestrone.
And a nice crusty bread. You should be able to buy all of that close by.
I suspect there will be an afternoon nap in my future as well. ”
He grabbed his phone and started a list. He’d buy himself some pecans and a fancy coffee and something to mail to Roper, plus the twins, Momma, and Daddy. “Yes, sir. What are you wanting for supper?”
“Keep it light. Maybe Caesar salad? I love a good Caesar dressing and some tasty croutons. A little chicken on it is nice too. And maybe a glass of wine.” Charles winked at him. “I do remember some of our conversation.”
He chuckled softly but nodded. “Yes, sir.” He texted himself a note.
Ryder
Look up Caesar salad. Look up Caesar salad dressing. Get wine. Get a wee bottle of whiskey & Cokes for the bedroom
He’d buy his booze on his dime.
“I find it difficult to believe you’ve only been with me for a week or so. Don’t you? It seems so easy. I thought it would take some getting used to, having a stranger in my house. But you don’t feel like a stranger.”
Well, that was a blessing. “I’m so glad. I’m learning a lot, but I’m tickled I’m not making you miserable.”
“On the contrary. I think we’re getting along quite well.” Charles’s sharp blue eyes flashed with fun. “It even appears to me that you’ve forgiven my poor judgment last night, which has made me feel very far from miserable indeed.”
“Oh, let me tell you, I have been accused of poor judgment more than once.” Mister Charlie had no idea. “You weren’t close.”
“Oh my. That sounds like the sort of story you should tell me if I’m ever that drunk again. Which I don’t intend to be. You might be safe.”
“Well, one way or the other, I’ll make sure you’re safe, coming and going.” He could manage that, all the way.
Charles had been looking at him so strangely all morning. Studying him like he was looking for something. “I’d like some more coffee, please.”
“Yes, sir. You done oatmealing too?” He stood and picked up his dishes.
Charles handed off his bowl, then pulled out his phone and started scrolling. “I am done. Thank you, it was delicious. Did you make it yourself?”
Did it come froze? Could you order it in? Because he’d eaten the shit from the packet. Lots. This was way better. “Yes, sir.”
“I’m so impressed with your cooking, I really am. When I’m here, I usually buy some bagels and call breakfast handled. The oatmeal was very nice.”
“I’m tickled you like it. I’m feeling my way around lots of this, so there’s bound to be a few disasters. So far? I’ve lucked out.” And he was grateful for it.
Of course, he’d never even heard of minestroney, so he’d be testing that…
“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Charles shook his head and looked back at his phone.
“Yes, sir.” He finished his oatmeal in a couple of quick bites while he made them both another cup of coffee, delivering Mister Charlie’s before doing the dishes.
He was going to have to Google Map a grocery store, a liquor store, and a place to buy soup…