Chapter 13 - Entering the Titan’s Den
When Callum stopped and assessed what was happening, he felt a bit overwhelmed.
It had happened fast. He’d fallen hard, but it all seemed to be going well, and it felt good.
Was it too good to be true? No. Julian was genuine; he was pretty sure of that.
Yes, he didn’t really know his character fully, but from what he’d seen so far, Julian was a man with values and honour.
He tried not to overthink it. “Go with the flow, Callum,” he said out loud to himself.
He put on some Erasure, loaded the washer and focused on tidying and cleaning, mainly to distract himself from the impending date later this evening.
He popped out for groceries, but wandered aimlessly around the store, not really even looking at what he was buying, but hoping it was the usual stuff.
He was pacing his slanted floorboards in a state of total high-voltage anxiety now.
The ‘real life’ glow of the morning had faded into a cold realisation: he was going into the den of the Titan. This was an official moment of desperation, he decided, appropriate course of action: ring Sophia.
“Soph, help. I’m going to a billionaire’s house for dinner. It’s moved on a lot, the bed broke, Soph. It literally broke. So much has happened, I don’t know where to begin…”
She laughed, “Callum, just breathe. The bed broke? My god, he must be a monster. I definitely need the juice on what happened there.”
They chatted and Callum brought her up to speed on what had happened since their lunch the day before.
“All this since yesterday. Wow, this is moving fast, Cal. Are you okay?” Her voice was filled with genuine concern, knowing her friend.
“No, I’m honestly fine, Soph. It is a bit overwhelming, but he’s so… he’s just… so tender and gorgeous, and the way he looks at me with his eyes…”
“Callum, love, everyone has eyes” she quipped sarcastically.
“Not like his Soph; they are incredible, this brilliant shade of green and they look right through you. He’s just so many of the things I always looked for in a guy, all wrapped up in one huge package.”
“Yes thank you Cal, enough about his huge package already”, she joked. They both laughed, years of friendship and various relationship successes and failures, a rich part of their shared history.
She imparted some words of considered wisdom to him.
“Okay, look, don’t try to impress him. You said he loved your flat, he liked your furniture, your art, your photo; just be you.
It’s you he likes; give him more of you.
Wear the black fitted button-down shirt, the one that makes your shoulders look like they can carry the weight of a small country, and those dark indigo skinny jeans you’ve got.
Clean, sharp, but still very much you. Good luck, don’t stress, just enjoy it.
” Soph blew him a final kiss and ended the call.
She was right thought Callum. I just need to be me and not try to be a version of me that I think he might want.
As Sophia had commented on Julian’s interest in Callum’s pictures and photos, it reminded him of his little idea.
Callum took out his Mac and found the street photo that was the inspiration for the canvas, the one Julian seemed to really like.
He pulled out his photo paper and printed a copy in 5 × 7” size on his little photo printer.
He knew he had a spare Michael’s black frame in a cupboard, the matching size, so he took that out of its cellophane and popped in the printed photo.
It looked nice. He found bubble-wrap and some leftover brown wrapping paper and carefully wrapped the frame.
In the same bag he spied some white twine, so he even did a little bow to finish it off.
He popped it in a neutral brown gift bag.
He’d grab a bottle of wine from the corner bodega on the way out.
Pleased with himself and his little idea, he then moved to sort out his outfit.
Callum dug through his wardrobe. He pulled out his nice clothes, which consisted of a pair of black leather boots he’d saved up for, the button-down shirt Sophia mentioned and his good dark jeans.
He tried them all on. He looked nice. He carefully ironed the shirt, spent forty-five minutes in the bathroom, obsessively trimming his beard and checking himself.
With a squirt of his nicest aftershave, he was ready. Bring it on.
Before he left, he stopped by the door as he picked up his keys and the giftbag.
Thoughtfully, he made a mental list, ticking items off on his fingers:
1. I know the guy; I’ve met him several times without an issue
2. I trust the guy; he’s always been kind to me
3. The guy is hot; this we know
At this point, he paused… he was about to add something about Julian’s dick and furry pecs but decided that would be wholly inappropriate for a serious list. In which case item 3 was also inappropriate? Nah, keep it in. He really is hot…..
4. He’s got dazzling green eyes – again, that’s just a physical attribute. Strike it off the list.
5. He’d told me he likes me, and I believe he really does.
Some quick mental addition. He breathed a sigh of relief - it’s all good. It’s safe.
He grabbed his trench coat and at 6:45 p.m. he left.
He checked that there was no sign of the car - no, not yet.
He walked to the small bodega on the corner.
He stood in front of the dusty wine rack for a while before settling on a $25 Malbec.
It was the most expensive thing they had, so he hoped it was a nice wine.
It felt a bit pathetic compared to what Julian probably drank, but he couldn't show up empty-handed, so he popped it in the gift bag with the picture.
He was excited to see if Julian liked it.
He stepped back onto the sidewalk just as the black Mercedes SUV pulled up. It was the usual driver and Markus, gruff as usual, with a deep “Good evening, Mr. West” stepping quickly out to open the door for him.
Callum climbed into the back seat, the scent of expensive leather and silence engulfing him. The privacy screen was down as the car pulled away. Callum, a natural talker when he was nervous, tried to bridge the gap.
“Nice night, huh?” Callum said, clutching the gift bag.
Markus’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror. Cold. Professional. “Yes, sir.”
“So, how long have you worked for Julian?” Callum asked.
“Six years,” Markus replied. Again, curt.
“Six years is a long time. You must know him better than anyone, then. What's he like as a boss?”
“He's professional,” Markus said, his voice a flat line. “And so am I.” Markus didn’t press the button to put the screen up, but it was clear the discussion was over.
Markus was not to be drawn on whether Julian was a good guy or not; Callum already knew that anyway, but he just would have liked some independent feedback from someone who’d known him longer. No worries, he thought to himself.
He looked out at the Brooklyn streets, suddenly realising he was being driven into some high-security fortress by a guy who looked like he could snap a man’s neck without blinking.
He didn't really know Julian Newman. He knew the scent of the man, the taste of his sweat and some other bodily fluids, his tender touch, and his belly laughter on a run-down broken mattress; but he was heading into the den of the Titan now.
Who was he going to meet, he wondered, the man or the Titan?
What if he's a serial killer? The thought flashed through his brain. The perfect murder. Some tragic ‘male escort type drama’. The hidden penthouse. No one would ever find me. New headlines flashed before his eyes.
He pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick text to Sophia:-
Callum: Soph, if I don't text you by midnight, call the police. The address is 50 Peck Slip. Tell them to look for the guy in the black button-down shirt. Please try to find all my body parts so I can have an open casket. LOL x
Sophia replied a few minutes later:-
Sophia: LOL. If he kills you, can I finally have those special edition off-white Nikes of yours I’ve always wanted? Have fun, Romeo, but be CAREFUL! And don’t freak out! x
***
Dusk was setting in the Manhattan sky, a glorious palette of oranges, pinks and reds as the car slowed alongside what Callum assumed was the building. He could see a lobby, but to his surprise they sailed straight past it.
They turned at the side of the building where two large black gates were already open, to a ramp leading down. Ah, underground parking, Callum thought. But why didn’t they just drop me around the front?
The cars in the garage were something else, but then Callum reminded himself this was an exclusive area, and the building residents were all probably wealthy like Julian.
He spied an Aston Martin, a very nice black Bugatti, but he couldn’t work out which model.
There was a very smart black Jeep that definitely caught Callum’s eye.
A deep red Mercedes and some others with covers over them, including some kind of limo judging by the length of it.
Very nice, very posh, thought Callum. The people who live in these apartments aren’t poor.
Yes, sure he had his driver’s licence and could drive but didn’t even own a car.
Since he’d lived in the city, he just used public transport.
They drove straight through the car park to a set of doors at the rear where there was a tall guy in a black suit waiting for them. Before Callum could reach the door handle, Markus jumped out and opened it for him.
“The private elevator is right there,” Markus said, gesturing to one of the sleek chrome doors. “My colleague Dimitri will assist you.”
“Cheers, Markus, appreciate the lift, thank you.” Callum said. Markus nodded.
“Mr. West,” came a voice from behind him. “If you could just put your thumbprint on this sensor pad, we can get you into the building”.
There was a small white control pad by the door, about the size of a pack of playing cards. There was a code number at the top, but nothing showing on the bright blue screen.
Wow, thought Callum, this is rather complicated.
He stepped forward and complied, pressing his thumb firmly onto the panel.
A white horizontal line appeared and moved up, scanning his thumbprint, followed by a bleep and a green tick in a circular box with the message ‘Scan Complete’.
“If you wouldn’t mind pressing again to confirm, the door should open and the lift will take you upstairs where Mr. Newman is expecting you,” Dimitri added.
Dutifully, Callum put his thumb on the scanner again. This time the beep was quicker, and as if by magic, the lift doors opened.
“Thanks,” said Callum, giving the guy a nod, and stepping into the lift.
The lift was clean and well maintained, not like most Manhattan lifts.
He checked himself in the mirror. He looked good.
He wasn’t a vain person; he practically lived in sports clothes, so it made a difference to dress up.
It felt nice, and he was happy to do it for Julian.
The control panel was a myriad of floor numbers and different buttons, but it wasn’t obvious.
At this point, Callum realised with horror that he didn’t even know which apartment Julian lived in.
He didn’t remember an apartment number on the contact card; in fact, he was sure there wasn’t one.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, but the lift started on its own, no shudder, no noise, no groaning cables, just a stomach-flipping sense of gravity shifting in a silent, high-speed ascent.
Maybe Dimitri had pressed which floor from outside?
He didn’t remember there being any buttons.
He saw himself again in the mirror, now slightly less confident, clutching his brown gift bag. Right now, his heart was pounding. He was about to enter the Titan’s Den, and for the first time, he wondered if he’d leave it the same person he was when he entered.
When the lift stopped, the panel said 10.
10th floor? Callum still couldn’t work out how many floors there were in the building.
He stepped out expecting a corridor with lots of doors, but it was instead a large white square room, with only three other doors and the strong scent of lilies from an enormous arrangement on the central table.
Callum loved lilies, his favourite flower, and stepped forward to inspect them.. The scent was intoxicating.
Now he looked around, he realised none of the doors had visible apartment numbers on them but also had no locks. Maybe thumb sensors hidden somewhere? What a weird building this was, fancy fingerprint door panels and no locks… all rather strange.
Reaching for his phone, he also noticed the spotlessly white carpet, thinking that’s a bit dumb in a corridor, mind you; they’d managed to keep it nice and clean.
Callum dialled Julian. It rang. This would be the first time he’d spoken to him on the phone he realised. It was answered in three rings.
“Hey Cal, where are you? Are you here yet?” he asked. His voice was sexy, Callum thought to himself, now slightly distracted.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m in your building. I hope I’m on the right floor, but I am in a room with a huge lily flower arrangement. There are some doors, but I can’t see any numbers, and I don’t know which apartment you’re in. It’s not on your contact card, you realise, and…”
Before he got any further, the door in front of him opened and Julian was there.
Relief swept over Callum, who was beginning to panic. He put his phone back in his pocket and smiled. Julian smiled too as he crossed to him, wrapping him in a huge hug.
Suddenly none of the drama mattered, everything was okay, although his heart was still beating out of his chest. Julian relieved him of the bag, with an intrigued look on his face.
Callum noticed Julian was barefoot! He’d changed clothes and traded the hoodie for a snug navy sweater and some dark formal trousers, but no socks or shoes in a corridor? Callum pointed at his feet and looked at him with a ‘what the hell’ face.
Julian squeezed his hand tight. “All will become clear my beautiful man,” he paused, thoughtfully, “just come with me, but please take a breath and try not to freak out, okay.” He looked Callum square in the face, eyes intense, gave him a kiss on the lips, and led him back through the same door he’d arrived from.