Take My Breath Away by Ali Ryecart

Chapter Seven

JAMES

Saturday night, and instead of being at a bar, club or party, I’m sitting in front of the TV with a curry I’ve had delivered, and a Cobra beer. It’s an almost unique situation, because I can’t remember the last time I was at home like this.

Upstairs, Perry’s asleep, and he has been for hours. I looked in on him a couple of times, just put my head around the door. He won’t stir until morning, but it’s got less to do with the mild sedative I gave him than his own mental and emotional exhaustion.

I’ve no qualms about what I did to that bastard Grant. I’m not a violent man by nature, but I know how to be violent, in a controlled and measured way. How much to inflict, how far to go, how to damage without endangering life. An army career, followed by the police, taught me certain skills that have come in useful, from time to time, and they came in useful today.

I think I hear a noise from above, and I mute the TV. Has Perry woken up? I strain my ears to listen, but hear nothing more. Instead of turning the sound on the TV back on, I leave it. Dumping my plate on the coffee table I slump back into the sofa and let my thoughts roam.

Thank God I found Perry in Bert’s. He needed rescuing. It’s as simple as that, or it is to me. My stomach clenches and the heavy curry I’ve eaten feels like lead in my guts, and I push down the anger that’s surging up in me. He’s such a sweetheart, so how he got himself mixed up with a shit like Grant… I unclench the fists my hands have balled into. He can stay here for as long as he wants, but there’s no denying it does bring with it some complications due to the nature of my private life.

Elliot, rather sniffily I’ve always thought, describes my bed as being akin to a revolving door: as one man gets out, another gets in. There’s been a lot of truth in that, but not so much lately.

Bringing home random men has lost some of its savour, in just the same way the bars and clubs that have been a second home to me over the years have lost their allure, and more often than not I leave early and alone. The nameless pick-ups might have fallen by the wayside, but there is Aiden, whom I see on a semi-regular basis.

It’s a loose arrangement, and it suits us both. I like him. He’s smart, with a sharp mind hidden behind the gym bunny body and we’ve even been known to have proper, adult conversations, but there’s no illusion we’re in any kind of relationship beyond the physical. There’s no attachment, and that’s the understanding. He’s stayed over on a few occasions, but only because we’ve both all but passed out with exhaustion, yet even so he’s been up and out the door early the next day. There’s certainly been no long or leisurely breakfast or talk of brunch. That’s not the deal, and we both know it. Now, though, Perry’s here, and that makes a difference.

I gather up the crockery and after I stack it in the dishwasher I go back to surfing the TV, when my phone buzzes. Talk of the devil.

I read Aiden’s message. To the point, it’s almost terse.

Where are you?

At home, I thumb in.

I can come round.

I stare at the message. Any other Saturday night or indeed any night I was home I’d be keying in yes and looking forward to some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had.

I glance up at the ceiling. But not tonight.

No. I’ve got somebody staying.

A guy?

Yes. A friend.

He can join in. Three’s fun.

I’m frowning. The suggestion feels wrong and disturbing in a way I can’t quite define. My stomach turns over, but it’s got nothing to do with the heavy food I’ve just eaten. I take a deep breath, because Aiden’s not to know, he’s just reacting to what he knows of me.

You there?

I’ve been staring at the screen for several seconds, so I thumb in the reply.

No threesomes. He’s staying with me for a while.

He’s hampering your style. You can come to mine.

We’ll sort something out but not just yet.

Aiden doesn’t reply and I guess he’s taken the hint that the conversation for now is at an end. I power down my phone and set it aside.

Switching off the TV, I leap up from the sofa. I’m feeling restless, suddenly, and for a moment I wonder if I should change and go for a run. It’s what I do, day or night, when I’ve got an excess of nervous energy, and for some reason I’m overflowing with it now. I dismiss it for the bad idea it is, as the curry’s siting like a stone in my stomach, but the real reason for not pounding the nighttime streets is because of the exhausted, defeated young man sleeping upstairs.

Back in the kitchen, I pull out another beer. Popping the cap, I drink deeply as Aiden’s words spin around in my head.

Will Perry cramp my style, as he puts it? I suppose he will, for the time he’s here. When he leaves, normal service will be resumed. I suppose. Maybe he wouldn’t bat an eyelid at a stream of anonymous men appearing at the house but I don’t want to give him the chance for any batting, especially not with his impossibly long lashes.

My gaze falls to the books Perry brought back with him, perching on the edge of the table. I hadn’t taken any notice of them earlier, too intent on looking after Perry. They’re big, thick hardbacks and their titles surprise me.

Advanced Sugarcraft Techniques, and Professional Sugarcraft.

I put down my beer, and flick through. Glossy photographs of cakes covered in intricate and complex icing, they’re works of art. Celebration cakes of all descriptions, this isn’t cake decorating for the faint of heart. With their arty photography, these could almost be coffee table books but the pages of detailed instructions and diagrams put that idea to rest.

Many of the recipes have hand-written notes jotted down next to them, and some parts have been highlighted in bright yellow. Splatters and greasy finger prints are evidence the books are well used. It’s a side to Perry I never knew existed, and despite being full, my mouth waters. I’ve a sweet tooth, and even though I try my best to resist a slice or three of cake, I don’t always succeed.

The events that have brought him to my home have brought change with them, at least for now. I’m more than okay with that because Perry needs my help and I’m willing to give him exactly that. I’ll help him to get himself sorted out and then maybe he’ll meet a nice boy who’ll appreciate all that shy sweetness. A nice boy just like him. As for me, I’ll resume what Elliot always describes as my slutty ways.

I quickly finish off the beer and make my way upstairs to bed with that thought ringing in my ears. Yes, normal, predictable service will be resumed. It leaves me stone cold.