Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ALEX
I sank lower into the over stuffed sofa, releasing a deep breath. Kit. Just saying his name to myself made me feel better, helped to loosen some of the knots that were pulling me tight.
When I’d eventually fallen asleep, with Kit wound around me, I’d slept long and deep, better than I ever had.
Waking up, my mind had been clear of the low level edginess that always seemed to be with me.
I could have stayed in bed with him all day, and had been about to suggest it, when he’d told me he had to go home and get packed, because he was having to go away for work for a couple of days.
He’d been gone only a matter of hours, and I was missing him, and all the tension had flooded back, poisoning my blood and holding all my muscles in its iron grip.
It took a force of nature to stop me from grinding my teeth.
It hadn’t only been anger that had boiled up in me when Kit had told me about Kelvin forcing himself into his home, it had been fear, too.
All the hard edged smiles, no explicit threat but a threat all the same, it was classic Kelvin M.O.
I’d seen it in action so many times over the years I barely noticed it anymore, yet this time it’d sent ice down my spine.
Because I’d also witnessed what could happen next.
My first instinct was to confront Kelvin in a flashy display of fury, but flashy displays were never my thing.
I was too jumpy to sit still, and I sprang up and stalked around the lounge I knew so well.
Unlike my own minimalist, modern apartment, Kelvin’s house was a burst of Victoriana at its most exuberant.
Period features restored to their original glory were the jewels in the crown of the large, detached villa that sat behind shrubs, trees, and electronic gates in the heart of Little Venice in west London.
Dark wood bookshelves were crammed with leather bound books I doubt he’d ever read; artwork and sculptures adorned the walls and every available inch of space.
It was all too much for me, too over the top, too suffocating. Just as Kelvin sometimes was.
The collage of photographs on the wall caught my attention. I’d seen it so many times I hardly spared it a glance anymore, yet this time it drew me and I leant in, peering at literal snapshots of my life.
In almost every single one, it was just us, with no space for anybody else.
Kelvin with his arm slung over my shoulders with me leaning into him; Kelvin standing behind me with his arms circling my waist and holding me tight.
Photo after photo, Kelvin staring into the lens, defiant, cocky, and confident.
I was staring into the camera lens, too, but my gaze was more guarded, my smile more hesitant.
A copy of the photo I had at home, of the two of us outside Euphoria on the day we’d taken possession.
The club had been the first real, solid brick in the wall of our business, a business I fundamentally, absolutely, wanted to change even if I hadn’t yet come anywhere close to working out the details or how I was going to persuade Kelvin.
Yes, I’d seen the photos so many times over the years but it was as if I were really and truly looking at them for the first time.
Possession. The word burst in my head. It’s what I looked like, in every single one.
A possession. Kelvin’s possession as he held on tight and smiled into the camera with dark, sharp, intelligent eyes and a confidence that boarded on arrogance.
I turned away, from the photos and the creeping discomfort.
Where the hell was he? Kelvin had gone to make coffee ages ago.
I headed for the kitchen, opening my mouth to call out what was taking so long, choking back the words when I heard his voice.
It was low, almost secretive, little pauses before he spoke again.
He was on the phone, and I wondered what it was that he didn’t want to say in front of me.
I peered around the corner of the kitchen.
Kelvin had his back to me, his shoulders hunched over, his head nodding in agreement to something or another.
“It’s going to—I know, I know. I’ll call you later.” Kelvin shoved his phone into his pocket.
“Who was that?”
Kelvin span round. The flash of shock on his face was just as quickly replaced with his cocky grin.
“Somebody who might be doing some work on the house. Right, let’s go through that slimy bastard Ibrahim’s accounts that are strictly not for the Inland Revenue.”
Work on the house? Really? I let it go, for the time being, as I pulled out a chair and sat at the big, heavy wooden table.
On the face of it, I was at Kelvin’s for one of our regular meetings, reviewing a business that was growing and thriving and making us more money than we could spend in a dozen lifetimes.
But it was only one of the reasons I was sat at the table, poring over the laptop.
I had other stuff to talk to Kelvin about, and I would come to that in my own time.
Column after column, the numbers didn’t lie.
The profits from the parties that had already taken place read like the GDP of a small nation, and there were more to come.
Kelvin was right when he’d said there was a lot of money in kink.
Every event was fully booked, with the guests including some of the so called great and good of the land.
We had a full list of names, should it be needed for insurance purposes, but it was understood that the house party and so called hotel businesses were built and operated on mutual trust. Didn’t stop us having insurance, if we needed it, though.
We finished up quickly. Everything was running like clockwork. Kelvin began to close down the laptop.
“Why did you go round to Kit’s?” I kept my voice calm, almost conversational.
Kelvin didn’t miss a beat. “Because I wanted to check out the competition.”
That was the last thing I was expecting him to say, and it took me a moment to respond. “What do you mean, the competition? You and me, we’re not—”
“‘Boyfriends’” he said, air quoting the word.
“No, we’re not. We’re much, much more than that and you know it.
I just wanted to know what it is about him that’s got you interested beyond a quick shag.
There must be something special, for you to change your M.O.
He’s cute, he’s what you like, but beyond that, I’ll be buggered if I can see the appeal.
Got to be honest with you, babe. But maybe you can enlighten me.
” He shrugged, and leant back in his chair, a vision of ease.
My teeth ground down hard and I counted to five in my head before I spoke.
Why bother to explain when he had no way of understanding.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could properly explain it to myself.
All I knew was that Kit had come into my life, bringing with him a light that made the shadows recede.
But, even if I had been able to say why, I wouldn’t have exposed myself to Kelvin’s mockery.
“Kit’s my business, not your’s. I don’t want you forcing your way into his home and threatening him. Keep away from him, Kel. I mean it.”
Kelvin’s brows arched high. The O.T.T. look of hurt surprise might have been funny, any other time.
“Is that what he told you? That’d I’d forced my way in? Kitten’s inventive, I’ll give him that.”
“Don’t call him that.”
Kelvin snorted. “Okay, okay. He might not have wanted to, but he did invite me in. He even made me a cup of tea. Nice little place he’s got.
Very neat. A bit like him. Got to say, babe,” Kelvin said, his head tilting to the side, “although I really can see the attraction, he does seem a little, hmm, wholesome for your tastes. All those books on the shelves about British garden birds, and Thailand—bit obsessed with the place from the looks of it.” He laughed quietly and shook his head, as under the table my fists clenched hard.
“Come on, Alex. You know I’m just trying to protect you, the way I always have. ”
“Protection? From Kit? What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t need your protection, Kel. Not anymore.”
“But you do. You just can’t see it. Okay, maybe not quite like before, when we weren’t much more than kids, when we were in that house and you needed protection from—”
“Shut your mouth. I mean it.”
Our gazes locked. We rarely spoke about that time, about the foster home or what’d happened when we made our escape, and in the months that followed. If any of it was referred to at all, it was in an oblique, vague way. And that was just how I was going to keep it.
“Yeah, let’s not go there,” Kelvin said quietly. “But I’m only looking out for you. This time, though, it’s different because the one you need protection from is yourself.”
“What the hell do you mean by that? I make the decisions about my private life, not you.”
“Come on, Alex. Get real. What cosy little day dream are you trying to live in all of a sudden? Playing at boyfriends with a sweet piece from the suburbs, how does that fit in with your real life? You know, the one I bet you haven’t told him about.
Face it, he doesn’t fit into the world we live in, as much as you don’t fit into his. ”
“Maybe I don’t fit, either, not anymore.
” The silence, sudden, hard, and oppressive, pushed down like a lead weight, squeezing all the air from the room.
I’d said it, and there was no going back.
“We need to talk about the business.” My voice rasped.
I’d wanted to talk about Kelvin keeping his distance from Kit, not about turning the business Kelvin and I had built up together on its head.
My ideas were still too new, too nebulous.
I needed a solid plan, and the cast iron arguments to go with them.
But somehow Kit and the business had become interlinked in my head, and I’d shown my hand too early.
“Oh, I think we do, Alex. I really think we do. We need to talk about all of it.” His voice was low, almost a purr. “Do you think I can’t read you, after all these years? Bit of a coincidence that these thoughts of yours coincide with the arrival of Kitten—”
“Don’t,” I growled.
No, my thoughts had been scratching at the back of my head for a while, but maybe meeting Kit had just brought them into sharper focus.
Yet, I couldn’t deny the truth of what Kelvin said: Kit and I weren’t just from different worlds, we were from different universes and I had no idea how or if they could be reconciled.
“He’s a nice boy. Like I’ve said. But would he be so nice, would he look at you in the same way, if he knew who you really were?
Because he doesn’t know, does he? Which means you’re kind of lying to him.
Picking up club rats, that’s one thing. They’re stress relief, and we need that in our job.
But more than that? It doesn’t work, babe. It can’t work.”
“Why not?” I had to challenge Kelvin’s grim outlook, one that had been mine, too, unquestioned and taken as fact.
Kelvin tilted his head, a sad smile on his face.
“Oh, babe. Haven’t we been through this?
Tell me how you’re going to explain your life.
You know, the one with the big, luxurious flat overlooking Hampstead Heath?
The top end Range Rover? The Porche? The bespoke tailoring?
The one of many Rolex watches? Even your lovely, sprawling villa nestled in the Spanish mountains?
Need I continue with the very long list?
Because sticking to the line that you’re the co-owner of clubs and bars doesn’t get anywhere close to explaining away your very conspicuous wealth.
He’s going to wonder, if he hasn’t already, because he doesn’t strike me as stupid.
He’s going to question if you have fingers in other very lucrative, pies. ”
“Why shouldn’t he believe me when I tell him I’m a successful businessman?
” I held Kelvin’s gaze, even though my nerves felt like millions of ants crawling over my skin.
There was truth in what he said, even if I resisted believing it.
“But you turning up and playing the heavy, maybe he will wonder, now. Which is what you’re aiming for,” I slung back at him. Kelvin ignored the barb.
“You can play along with the fantasy that you can have the nice boyfriend from the suburbs because maybe it makes you forget who you really are. For a while. Some people need that escape. Never been one of those myself, but hey, we’re all different.
Thing is, though, it’s a fantasy, a make believe.
If you try and force it to be otherwise, how long before that veneer cracks and falls apart?
How long before the truth—the very real, and very ugly truth as suburban boys like Kitten would view it—seeps through like a wet and dirty stain?
” Kelvin leant forward, his voice dropping.
“How long before you feel the urge, the need, to bare your soul and put us both in danger, to tell your sweet little Kitten what you really are, eh? How long before you tell him you’re a pimp and a drug pusher? ”