Freddie
There’s a stain on the ceiling. A splattering of something that probably started out red but has faded to a rustic brown.
Soup maybe? It would make sense considering the microwave is close by.
Someone probably put in a container with an airtight seal, heated it on full power, then boom when they popped the lid.
It’s odd that I’ve never noticed it, but then again, I’ve never lain down in the canteen at work before.
I didn’t plan to end up here.
My goal had been a cheap hotel for the night, but when I checked my wallet, I found it empty.
It doesn’t matter whether it was Alice, Nathaniel, or someone else inside the bar who took it, all that matters is it’s gone.
I could’ve used my debit card for a room, but I’ve been burned before and didn’t want the hassle of contacting the bank when money started to be purged from my account.
I started the car, and the jingling of my keys gave me the idea.
Free place to stay.
Free car park.
Free toilets.
Still, I wasn’t sure.
I drove past the place first, making sure the lights were off and there were no other cars. We have security cameras, but no active guard, and if my boss were to ask, I’d claim I’d left something vital in my locker.
That vital thing still evaded me.
Medicine maybe.
I ended up in the canteen on the second floor, and having pushed a bunch of chairs together, I’ve made myself a makeshift bed. I have five chairs positioned on either side, with their backs facing out. It looks like an open-ended cot.
Each chair has minimal padding, and after a dull ache grows in my hip, I flip over to my back, nestling my head into my rucksack that I’m using as a pillow.
The automatic lights dull, which is when I see the stain, then a few seconds later they go off and I’m plunged into darkness.
There’s a faint buzzing coming from somewhere, but other than that, all I hear is the sound of myself breathing.
I don’t sleep, and although I can blame my back-aching bed, it’s not the reason. I’m thinking of Ryker, and I’m thinking of Liam, and I’m thinking what the fuck happened.
How it happened.
Why it happened.
I’m certain of the when, where, and who, but everything else is a kaleidoscope of shock, disbelief, and yes, if I admit it to myself, which I do in the darkness, awe.
My fingers stray to my neck where I stroke the rash from Liam’s beard.
He hadn’t kissed me, but I’d felt his lips against my skin, and his hot puffs of breath as he enjoyed working his cock against my back.
My arms and shoulders no longer hurt from where he held me, but my neck burns when I rub where his bristles scratched.
I’ve never felt anything like that before.
I’ve had kisses and sucks on my throat, but the masculine drag of stubble shot pleasant tingles down my body.
It was new, as was the firm grip on my cock.
I shiver hard enough the lights click on, momentarily blinding me. Ryker’s hand wasn’t dainty or soft, it was big, sightly callused, and he rough-handled me into coming.
I touch the other side of my neck where Ryker sucked purple patches into the skin.
When I’d first seen them in the mirror, I’d baulked and cursed him.
There was no way they could be covered, but the more I poke at them, the more I become fascinated with them, these perfect mauve ovals.
He’s marked me, and of all the men I’ve seen him with, I’ve never seen marks on their necks.
I didn’t know what it meant. I still don’t.
The lights turn off again. I blink into the darkness and think about what happened.
I wanted to hurt Ryker. I let him touch me so I could hurt him by calling out someone else’s name.
But I was hard before I decided on that.
I was hard from being restrained by Liam and having Ryker crowd into my personal space to press me against his brother.
It was the anger, the control and the dominance that aroused me.
Maybe I should start analysing that reaction, but it’s what happened after that keeps replaying in my head.
Nathaniel appeared under the pretence of returning my bag, but we all knew why he was there.
With pouted lips and unblinking eyes, he’d stared at Ryker, and I’m left wondering .
. . if Liam hadn’t been there, if Liam hadn’t told him “Don’t,” would he have gone back into The Fox and Hound, rinsed me off his hand, then fucked Nathanial in the toilets?
My gut cramps, and I roll onto my side, triggering the lights.
My vision turns fuzzy as I press my face into the rucksack.
Another memory hits me. Ryker slumped against the wall with his head bowed low, looking small despite being over six foot.
I ripped his confidence from him, I hurt him, and I don’t know whether it felt good or not, but I’d rather never see him again than see him looking like that and knowing I’m the cause.
It’s a mess, but it’s not one I know how to fix. It’s not one I’m certain I want fixed.
Liam said we need to talk, but where were they when I needed them?
They left me.
The ache in my hip grows until I’m forced to roll onto my back.
I sigh as I do, and the lights click on, then a few minutes later they fade. A few minutes more and they’re off again. My neck itches where Liam nuzzled me, and on the other side the patches from Ryker throb. I feel them with me even though I’m alone.
My lower back twinges, and with a grimace I’m on my hip again, making sure to alternate which direction I face.
This goes on all night as I toss and turn thinking of Ryker and Liam, until I start to see faces in the soup stain, and they looked as confused as I feel.
When morning comes, I freshen up as best I can in the toilets, rearrange the chairs, and wait for Stephen to show. I’ve changed my T-shirt, but I’m wearing the same navy jeans as the day before, praying Stephen doesn’t notice.
From his frown, I think he might. The creases on his forehead only deepen as he gets closer to me, and at first, I act like I’m unaware I’m being stared at, noticing him at the last minute with a surprised, “Hey,” the “I didn’t see you there” in subtext.
Stephen looks me up and down. “What are you doing here?”
I flounder for a second. “I know it’s early but—”
“You went home yesterday, headache you said. I wasn’t expecting you to be in today.”
Oh. Oh. “I feel much better now,” I say, then reach up to scratch my neck.
Stephen’s eyebrows climb as he takes in my neck. He hums, and I think shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
“I really was unwell.” I slap my hand on the other side to hide the marks from Ryker, but it’s too late, Stephen has seen them.
“Sure, and was the woman who did that also unwell?”
“I’m—”
Stephen laughs and drops his hand to my shoulder. I stiffen, waiting him out. I don’t dare join in with the joke I don’t understand in case he turns it on me and suddenly goes serious.
He wipes his eyes. “Don’t make a habit of it.”
Wait . . . what?
I debate the idea I’ve stepped into an alternative universe where I’ve got a cool boss who encourages me to ditch work to have sex. He should fire me for what he assumes I’ve done, but he walks by instead and tells me to “Carry on.”
I could, but instead I turn to him. “Can . . . can we talk in your office?”
Stephen stops and speaks over his shoulder. “What about?”
“I’d prefer to speak in your office . . .”
Car doors slam outside, and I know in a minute the corridor will be full of chatter, and curious eavesdroppers. I don’t want to have this conversation in the open.
Stephen checks his watch. “Sure.”
I follow him, and the front door bursts open with Clair and Jenson chuckling, but neither Stephen nor I turn to acknowledge their arrival.
Stephen’s office is unlocked, and I’d been tempted to sleep on the couch inside, but had decided it was too inappropriate.
He strolls behind his desk and looks out of the window.
“Take a seat.”
I do, dropping onto the chair in front of his desk. The sofa is a few meters behind me, looking inviting with its pillows and the thick blanket draped over the back.
I frown at the blanket until Stephen clears his throat.
“What can I help you with?” Stephen asks.
His eyes dart as he takes me in, sitting on the chair, failing to resist the urge to lean down and pull at the bottom of my jeans.
Liam told me that during his police training they were taught about nervous tics to look out for, and apparently that’s one of them.
I’ve done it my whole life, from being nervous in the classroom at the thought of having to speak aloud in front of everyone, to now, alone with my boss in his office and about to address one of the reasons I’ve been stressed for the past few months.
“I bumped into Andy not that long ago.”
“Andy Creed?” he asks.
I nod. “And he explained why you fired him . . . and why you fired Jess the month before him.”
“And what did he say the reason was?”
“For not following a strict SOP on the filling machine, for writing on the paperwork a step had been completed before it physically had. He said you’d reviewed footage inside the manufacturing hall and had seen him pre-empt preforming a task and it was enough for you to fire him.”
Stephen rubs his chin, contemplating, but doesn’t speak.
I continue. “Jess was fired for the same reason, and I just . . . there’s been a lot of firings in the last six months.
” I drop my head. “And their mistake is also one I’ve made.
One I make. There’s never enough time to do the processes and fill out the paperwork, and sometimes it’s easier to do it in chunks even if .
. . even if you have to lie and say a step has been performed before you get around to doing it. I know I shouldn’t, but . . .”
“I understand,” Stephen whispers.
But understand what? I’ve just given him a reason to fire me. It feels freeing in a sense but terrifying in another.
“I know I’ve let a lot of people go the last six months, and although I can’t go into details and specifics, I can tell you it was for more than just pre-empting a task.
” He drops his gaze. “I’m aware the SOPs are outdated, and sometimes minor corners need to be cut, but Freddie, you’re a good hard worker, and it’s only this misdemeanour .
. .” He gestures to my neck with a smirk.
“That’s ever put your commitment to this company in question. ”
I exhale a long breath then ask the question that’s been torturing me since I saw Andy. “Are you going to fire me?”
Stephen rocks back on his heels. He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I’m not going to fire you, Freddie. You’re loyal to this company, to me. One of my best workers.”
I drop my face into my waiting hands, and mumble against them, “Thank fuck.”
After a few slow breaths that puff against my palms, I lift my head, then get to my feet. Stephen gives me a small smile then goes back to looking out of the window.
I make my escape then hurry down the corridor to join the team.
Surprisingly, the day goes quickly. Maybe it’s relief that rushes it by, but as we approach eight o’clock, I begin to think about my sleeping arrangements.
Nobody knows. Nobody suspects despite the bags beneath my eyes.
They all think my lack of sleep is to do with the marks on my neck and have ruthlessly teased me.
My work colleagues are work friends, not one of them overlaps with Freddie outside of the factory, and I’m endlessly grateful for keeping that distinction.
It’s not that they’re bad people, I like them, but there’s something comforting about getting along with people who know the bare minimum about you.
There’s no pressure, and conversation is light and fun.
I try to be the last to leave, but Stephen waits for me by the front doors. He’s looking out in the same manner he had been in his office, like he’s lost in space, but at my approach, he says, “Have they had any luck yet?”
I cock my head, about to ask him what he’s talking about, but then I see them outside.
Ryker and Liam. They’re both in their uniforms, and although Liam’s is more strikingly obvious, Ryker still has Arby Fire Department printed on his tight brown T-shirt, and it’s clear what both do as a profession.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“You better get out there,” Stephen says. “The police officer looks like he’s thinking about strangling me for keeping you too long.”
Yes, Liam is intensely glaring, but Ryker .
. . Ryker’s not even looking at me. Before I’m aware of what’s happening, I’m outside and Stephen is locking up behind me.
He waves to me before heading over to his car.
He’s swapped his Porshe for a green Ford Ka and catches me frowning at the car with the ten-year-old plates and a dent in the back door.
“It’s in the garage,” he calls.
I nod and turn my attention back to the two men in front of me. They’re both leaning against Ryker’s 4x4 and both are staring at my neck, admiring their work.
“We need to talk,” Liam says.
It jars me for a second. Ryker is the talker, Liam is not, but Ryker still can’t look me in the eye, and my gut twists into a knot when I think of Alice. Not the woman, but the name. I replace Alice with the word “Don’t” said by Liam and my insides unfurl a little.
Ryker would’ve gone back inside the bar if it hadn’t been for his brother.
“Okay,” I reply.
“At our place,” Liam says before pushing off from Ryker’s car. “Who do you want to ride with?”
“Neither of you. I’ll drive my own car.”
Liam’s jaw stiffens, flashing the sharp bone beneath the skin.
His hand presses to his hip and the handcuffs he keeps clipped to his belt.
I’m sure he’s not allowed them on display like that when he’s off duty, but there they are, and it’s a not-so-subtle threat that he could overpower me if he so chooses.
My stomach flips with excitement, but I don’t want to think about why.
I lay out my conditions. “I drive myself, or I don’t come.”
Liam looks at Ryker, but Ryker doesn’t look back.
“Okay.”
Liam says it in a tone that means it’s absolutely not okay, but I’m not putting myself in a position where I can’t escape them. Besides, after we’ve concluded our “talk” I’ll need to drive myself back here to sleep in the canteen.
“Let’s get this over with,” Liam says, which is Ryker’s and my cue to get in our cars while he watches over us, making sure we do exactly as he wants.