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Tuesday afternoon, Dare downed tools early and cycled into town. It was a clear early February day, with just a whisper of spring in the air, so Dare was determined to make the most of it. He headed out to Stokes Croft, and on a whim turned off the main road to visit his favourite vintage clothes shop.
Cabbages and Kinks might have turned all la-di-da since Perry’s cute twink of a boyfriend had pretty much taken over, but he still loved hanging out there. Not that he ever bought much—Dare spend most of his time in practical work gear—but he’d picked up a few nice coats and shirts over the years. What was best, though, was the window shopping and the company.
The window display caught his eye. Piles of retro seventies games covered the floor, and the clothing displayed above them was all of the eye-watering bold seventies prints variety. Not Dare’s style, but he eyed up the game of Kerplunk. He’d had fun playing that with Jase when they were kids, but he had no idea what had happened to their old game. Maybe he could take it round next Sunday, if Mas wasn’t charging an arm and a leg for it.
Think of the devil... Mas’s curly topped head appeared above the display, and he gave Dare a little wave. Not one of his sunshiny grins—Dare never got those on account of the fact he once made a pass at Perry—but at least Mas had got over the worst of his jealousy and was now friendly.
“All right, mate. How’s it going?” Dare walked in and clapped Mas on the back.
“He’s upstairs, so don’t you go getting any ideas,” Mas replied waspishly. The bloke could give the bitchiest divas a run for their money, that was for sure.
“Lovely to see you too. Everything happy in Mas-and-Perry land?”
“Absolutely bloody perfect, thank you very much. I’m more than enough man for him.”
Dare gave the pint-size queen the once-over. “I can believe it. I think you’d be enough man for anybody.” If drama and flamboyant mannerisms were what you were after. “Speaking of which, I met your ex again the other day. Looks like you did a right number on him.”
“My ex?” Mas screwed up his nose, which was annoyingly cute.
“You know, the drunk one in the fancy suit I had to kick out of your party for you.”
Mas’s expression soured. “Oh, you mean Grant. What’s he doing back here, then? He hasn’t been to look me up, that’s for sure. I’d send him packing if he did, so I would.”
“So you didn’t know he’s moved here for good?”
“He never!”
“He bleedin’ well has. Getting a divorce and everything. He’s staying in the same poncy little flat down near my place. We’re practically neighbours, believe it or not.”
“Wow. Grant must be absolutely thrilled,” Mas deadpanned.
“Not exactly, but I think I can win him over. You got any tips for me?”
“You? You and Grant? I’ve never heard something so ridiculous.”
Dare chuckled. “Yeah, I know. But it’s not like I want to have a relationship or anything. I just wanted to know if he’s a decent shag.”
Mas’s eyes glazed over. “Oh yeah. He’s a goer, all right. Used to do the filthiest things to me. Totally hot. But nowhere near as hot as Perry, of course,” he added hastily, glancing upwards guiltily, like he imagined Perry was listening in.
“Sounds like he’d be worth giving a spin, then.”
“Funny.” Mas was smirking now. “I never had you down as a bottom boy.”
Dare raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going to be bending over for him. He’ll be doing it for me.”
“Ha! I’d love to see his face when you tell him that. Can you film it for me, please?”
“Too late. Already told him.”
“No way. And what did he say? Told you where to get off, right?”
Dare just winked.
“Oh my God, you never! No way! Oh, am I so going to have to tell Perry about this. Oh God. I can’t believe you’ve already fucked him.”
“Hold your horses, I haven’t yet. I’ve just told him how it’s going to be when we do.”
“And he didn’t tell you to fuck right off?”
“Not in so many words, no.”
“Aha. So he did. And you’re still interested? Like a challenge, though, don’t you? Tell you what, since I’m a nice bloke and willing to let bygones be bygones, I’m going to let you in on a few Grant seduction secrets. Now, most of them aren’t going to work for you, on account of you not being a cute young thing with a totally lush bum like I’ve got, but I reckon the foot angle could be worth giving a shot.”
“The foot angle?”
“Yeah. Grant’s a total slut for having his toes sucked.” Mas’s eyes gleamed, and Dare wondered what filthy memory was playing behind them. “He’ll be putty in your hands if you give him a good toe job. I swear.”
Dare had never sucked another man’s toes, but hey, he was always open to new experiences. “Noted. Cheers, mate. I’ll give it a go if I get the chance.”
Mas grinned wickedly. “Oh, and if you want to know what to wear to get his motor running, I seriously recommend skimpy undies. In leopard print, if at all possible.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Dare’s underwear collection had two things in common: grey colour and practical style. Underwear just wasn’t sexy as far as he was concerned. Naked was sexy. Or fully clothed with your bits dangling out. But maybe if the undies would be a deal breaker, he’d just go commando the next time Grant came over.
“So, was that everything for today?” Mas picked up a feather duster. “Only some of us have work to be doing, you know. I can’t spend my whole day entertaining window shoppers. The place would end up a total tip.”
Dare glanced around the pristine shop. “Oh yeah. I was thinking about buying something. How much for the Kerplunk set you’ve got in the window?”
Mas named a price that was steep without being a total rip off. Dare pondered it for a moment—winter was always a quiet time at the yard and he couldn’t be too extravagant—but if emptying his wallet brought a smile to Jase’s face, it would be worth ten times that.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
Half an hour later, after cycling back home with the vintage game in his panniers, Dare settled down with a cuppa. Mas’s words were still bumping around in his head, so he pulled out his phone and Grant’s business card. Since Grant hadn’t called him, he guessed he’d have to make the first move.
Met a little bird who told me some fascinating things about you, he texted. Can’t wait to get you barefoot naked! D x
There, that should do as an opening salvo. Dare settled back into the sofa and smiled to himself. Let Grant come running to him if he wanted his toes sucked and his arse fucked. Dare would be ready and waiting.
The phone call came not long after Grant got home from work.
“What’s all this I hear about you bribing the girls with new furniture and kittens?” Harriet demanded.
Grant sighed into his phone. He’d been hoping for a pleasant—if awkward—chat with Harriet when she finally called him, but instead he was being subjected to an earful.
“I’m not bribing them with anything, babe. I’m just making sure they have somewhere they can sleep when they do eventually visit.”
“For a start, I’m not your babe anymore, and secondly, who said anything about them visiting you? What’s wrong with you seeing them here?”
“Nothing for the time being, but I want them to be able to visit me in my home at some point. They could stay for weekends sometimes. And in the holidays. I’ll come and get them and bring them back again. I’ll be giving you a break.”
“I don’t need a break. I’m perfectly capable of looking after my own children, thank you very much. And I don’t see why I should allow this. Who knows what kind of rubbish you’ll fill their heads with. And a kitten? You know I can’t have any here or I would. It’s not fair.”
“Hats, I’m not getting a kitten. That was just Charlie hearing what she wanted to. And what’s all this about filling their heads with rubbish? Come on, you know I don’t do that.”
“Have you got anyone living with you there? You know, a boyfriend. Because I don’t want them exposed to that kind of thing. I haven’t told them about your changing teams.”
For the first time Grant heard the wobble in her voice. She sounded dangerously close to tears. The urge to reassure her won over his annoyance at her objections. “Look, it’s okay. I’m living on my own and I’m not about to cart them off to gay clubs, am I? But I’m going to need to tell them sooner or later, and I thought it would be best if I did that here. This is my new home now, and I want them to see me being happy in my life choices.” He knew as soon as the words came out, they were the wrong ones, but it was too late to take them back.
“Happy? You’re happy? Well, good for you, because I’m bloody miserable. I’ve been speaking to my solicitor, and I’m going to be suing for custody and maintenance, but she doesn’t think that’s going to be enough for me to keep up the house, so we’re going to have to move as well. After all the disruption the girls have been through already, I don’t want to have to uproot them as well. It’s just so unf—” Her words dissolved into tears.
“Oh babe. I’m so sorry.” The sound of her tears was like a punch to his guts, inflaming the guilt deep inside him. “Look, I’ll see what I can afford. Maybe there’s a way you could stay there.” It would be expensive and pretty much scupper his idea of taking the girls away somewhere nice over the summer holidays, but they probably needed stability more than they needed a fancy holiday.
“You’d really do that?” Harriet gulped and hiccoughed, her words thick with tears.
“I’ll do my best. But in return, we need to work out a joint custody arrangement. I’m happy for you to have them most of the time, but I still want regular visits. I can’t lose my home and my family.”
“You losing? I’m the one who’s lost everything. I’m the one whose husband deserted her for another man. Can you imagine what it feels like to be stared at by all the other women at the health club? Like I’ve got something that’s catching. If they don’t stop it soon, I’m going to have to find somewhere else. Maybe I’ll have to take up needlepoint and hang out with a bunch of old ladies instead. I don’t fit in with the yummy mummies anymore.”
“I’ve already told you, there isn’t another man.” Idle and mostly unwelcome fantasies about a certain shaven-headed scrap yard owner didn’t count, did they? “I just couldn’t carry on living a lie.”
“So that’s all our marriage was, was it? A sham?”
“That’s not what I said. Come on, babe. Give me a break here. I can’t help being gay.”
“Maybe not, but you could have helped marrying me. I loved you, Grant.” She sounded like she was about to break into tears again. Oh God. Harriet didn’t do this. She was the stable one. The fact he’d reduced her to this made him feel like a complete and utter bastard.
“I loved you too, Hats. I still love you. Just not in the way you need me to. It wasn’t fair, lying to you like that, so I tried to do the right thing and come clean. Can you see that?”
“All I can see is that I’m suffering while you’re living the high life,” Harriet sniffed, and then hung up on him.
“I’m suffering too,” Grant said to the empty room.
Fuck it. He needed a drink. There was a wine bar a few minutes down the road. He could walk it.
––––––––
HE SHOULD HAVE WAITED till the morning. Gone and visited Derek with a clear head and without the three vodka martinis swirling through his bloodstream. But instead, Grant meandered out of the wine bar and into the cold night air, past his building and down the road, around the corner, and he followed the river path down to the junkyard.
He wasn’t planning on calling in, of course. Never mind that the alcohol had made him feel horny. No, he just wanted to maybe catch a glimpse of Derek. Perhaps try to figure out an alternative angle he could work, like Cecil suggested. Any nefarious goings-on in the scrap yard were likely to happen after dark, weren’t they?
But as he drew closer to the iron gates, Grant had to call himself on his bullshit. Never mind trying to catch Derek doing something illegal. What he really needed was to work out why the man had wormed his way under Grant’s skin these last few days. Memories of Derek pinning him to the side of that caravan had popped up at annoyingly inappropriate times. If he could work out what the irritating attraction was, he’d be able to figure out a way of purging himself of it. After all, now he was a single, eligible gay man, he could have his pick of the bunch. Find himself another long-term partner who’d be able to give him the emotional support Harriet had always provided.
He needed a rock, not a confusing, belligerent, toppy bastard with a shaved head and threadbare clothes. Yeah, he should tell Derek that. Let him know that Grant wasn’t a man to be messed with.
But then again, he didn’t want to fuck up the land purchase for Cecil. You were only as good as your last deal, and this was a competitive business. And besides, what if he failed? Clients could smell desperation, and they’d run a mile. No, Grant owed it to himself to do the best he could with Derek.
He reached the gates and peered in. Not much to see other than the hulking shadows of vans, but he could hear sounds of activity in the distance. A rhythmic clanking sound, like something metallic was being hit with a hammer.
So Derek was still at work. At eight o’clock in the evening? Maybe he wasn’t such a hippie layabout after all. Even Grant managed to clock off by half six most days, unless something big was going down. So why on earth would a scrap yard owner need to be wrecking vehicles at this time of night?
Unless something nefarious really was going on. Perhaps Derek was involved in some kind of stolen car ring like Cecil had hinted. Maybe right this moment he was respraying one for resale. But despite knowing next to nothing about the motor trade, Grant was fairly positive spray painting didn’t make a noise like that. Maybe it was something worse. Maybe Derek did those cut-and-shut jobs when the undamaged halves of two cars were welded together after they’d been written off. Grant had once seen an exposé on a ring of criminals creating lethal Frankencars like that, but then again, Derek didn’t have the hardened look in his eyes those men had.
Besides, he didn’t want to believe Derek was capable of something that awful. Crime was one thing, but the men who ran cut-and-shut operations were little better than murderers, in Grant’s eyes.
A drug lab, perhaps? Grant’s entire knowledge of the manufacture of illegal chemicals was informed by watching a few episodes of Breaking Bad, but even so, he was fairly sure drug labs were quiet places. Smelly, perhaps, but not particularly noisy.
Fuck it. He’d just have to take the direct route to find out what Derek was up to.
Grant went to open the gate, but of course, it was padlocked. He contemplated ringing the bell, but who was to say Derek would answer it after business hours had ended.
But then again, he did have Derek’s number.
Grant pulled out his phone and hesitated. To text or to dial? He’d never responded to Derek’s cryptic little text message the day before, but it had preyed on his mind. But then the clanking started up again and Grant figured Derek would never hear a text alert over that noise. Right. A phone call it was, then.
He thought Derek wouldn’t answer, but then the clanking stopped and Derek gave a rather breathless-sounding “’Lo. Wondered how long it would take you to call.”
“Listen, Derek—”
“Whoa there, posh-suit, Derek was my old man, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of the miserable git. Call me Dare.”
Dare. Grant sounded the name out in his head. Yes, it suited the man more than Derek. It had an edge to it. “Okay, then, Dare. I’m waiting at your gate. Can we talk?”
Dare’s low chuckle should have been X-rated. “Just a talk? I’m not sure I want to drag my arse all that way in the cold for a quick chat. How about you come in for a cup of tea as well?”
“You got anything stronger?”
“Half a bottle of Jack Daniels do you?”
Revolting stuff, but Grant heard himself agreeing.
“I’ll be with you in a minute. Stay gorgeous.” Dare hung up.