WHEN Pam came back from sorting out Ethan’s mishap on the ladder, Red was sitting in the corridor on one of the fairly uncomfortable plastic chairs. “Just waitin’ for the last coat to dry in office number three,” he explained.
Surprisingly, she pulled up another chair and sat beside him. “Good. I was hoping to catch a quick word with you on your own, Red.”
He wondered why he felt as if he’d been called to the headmaster’s study, an event that had figured frequently in his teenage years. “Is it all right for me to be helpin’ here today, Pam? I know I’m not on staff.”
She nodded. “We’re not officially open yet, so I’m sure it’s fine. However, I will expect you to watch your behavior in front of the young people. I’d ask the same of any external contractor. But as usual, Carter’s trying to do too much in too short a time. He needs your support.”
I wish, Red thought but didn’t say it aloud.
“You’re gay, Red, aren’t you?” Red raised an eyebrow, and Pam laughed. “I’m sorry to ask you—after all, no one ever asked me if I were straight when I took this job—but it’s something I have to raise with you.”
“You know Carter is?”
“Of course. And he’s taken his fair share of hassle from the young people as a result.”
“Pam, I doubt I’ll be around very often. I’m not lookin’ for a job here.”
She nodded. “I know. And that’s probably a good thing. I ran a check on you, Mr. De Vere, after your last visit, and it’s a hair-raising read.”
“No criminal charges yet, Pam.”
She laughed again. “No, indeed. Though more than a few cautions.”
Red smiled back. He already liked her a lot, and admired her for checking him out. “Well, as I say, I’m not applyin’ for a job, I’m just a friend offerin’ help to Carter. And I think it’s fairly obvious that a lot of his friends will be gay, so I’m not sure what I can do about that.”
Pam never took her steady gaze off him. “You’re far from either stupid or naïve, Mr. De Vere.”
“Red, please. Mr. De Vere makes me think of my father.”
Pam nodded. “Red, then. Please don’t insult me by playing statistics. If everyone were gay, it wouldn’t matter to me. Or if everyone weren’t. I’m just warning you—and Carter, I suppose—that if and when you meet any of the young people, there may be a reaction.”
“Yes,” Red said drily. “I’ve noticed that already.”
“It happens to everyone, whatever hook the young people use to hang it on. Whether you’re male, female, fat, thin, ginger, bleached blond, gay, straight. They’ll look for a way to get to you. It’s all part of the territory issue, at least at first. Carter still suffers some homophobic abuse that is, to me, appallingly casual, but they’ve also grown to respect him, regardless of their initial impressions. He’s a good bloke.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Red stared at her. “Are you worried I’m some kind of threat? That I’d jeopardize his job here?”
Pam had the grace to blush. “I’m sorry. I’ve only just met you, whereas I know Carter and call him my friend. He’s done really good work here and the young people like him. But I can see how you feel about him—”
“I’m sorry?”
“Red, please. You can’t take your eyes off him. If you’re not a couple now, I know it’s not for want of your trying. But there’s no time or room here for a personal life. The youngsters must always come first.”
Red blinked, hard. The headmaster analogy struck him again, vividly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be circumspect with any selfish obsession of my own.”
Pam laughed and patted him comfortably on the shoulder. “That’s the way. Pompous and amusing. Now come and help me sort out the kitchen cabinets.”
ONCE the kitchen cabinets were in place, Pam went off to equip the new toilets. Red and Carter were left in the kitchen. The reopening was planned for the following week, and there was still plenty more to be done. A group of the young people, including Jag and two of his mates, helped them fix up a couple of shelves, then bring all the cooking equipment back in. Red noticed how they hung around together as a unit, with Jag the definite leader. At one stage, Carter got up on the counter to reach the top of a unit, overreached, and nearly fell off. Red and Jag caught him as he stumbled, and hauled him awkwardly off the counter onto the floor. The others laughed uproariously, but Red couldn’t mistake the speed with which Jag pulled away from being too close to him.
“Cooker’s arrived—I need some help over here,” Carter called out. Red watched him, his hair tousled, dirt on his cheeks, a healthy grin on his face.
Gorgeous. Red felt his chest tighten and his cock harden with need. It startled him, because he’d kept the feelings under control for so long already. Now was not the time to lose it.
Jag and another boy, Ethan, pushed past him to help unpack the new unit, breaking his train of thought. Together, they shifted it into place and Ben came to connect it up. While he crawled about between the cooker and the wall, Red, Carter, and the others leaned back against the counter. Carter opened a can of lemonade and offered them all a gulp. When he handed it toward Red, Jag reached in front of Red and snatched it first.
Carter frowned. “If you’ve got a problem with sharing, Jag, Pam has cola and snacks in the front reception.”
“’m okay with you, man,” Jag muttered. Ethan gave a nervous giggle.
“Just a problem with me, then, is it?” Red asked the young man. He kept his voice steady and as unprovocative as he could. This was the territory thing that Pam had warned him about, wasn’t it?
“You queer?” Jag said. It was phrased as a question, but his belligerent tone made it a deliberate challenge. Red heard Carter suck in a breath. The other kids picked up on the atmosphere as sharply as kids always do. One of them gave a low, mocking wolf whistle and another couple snorted a laugh. The others went suddenly silent, finding very interesting things about their feet.
Red turned fully to face him. He was at least four inches taller than Jag, though Jag looked wiry and tough enough to try to take him on. “You straight?” he replied evenly.
Jag flushed. “Fuck off.”
“Succinctly said. Here, help me with this mop and bucket. We need to clean the floor when Ben’s finished.”
Jag blinked hard, apparently startled by Red’s quick comeback and struggling for one of his own. By which time, Red had thrust the mop cheerfully into his hand, then gestured to Ethan to fill up a bucket with water and detergent. As he squeezed past Carter to get to the sink, he saw Carter’s mouth twitch gently. But Red couldn’t catch his eye, and Carter hopped out of the way when Jag started mopping haphazardly across the floor. He left the room, presumably to help Pam and the others.
Red bent to start unpacking the final box of kitchen utensils and equipment. With a stab of something approximating orgasmic pleasure, he saw they had a brand new coffee machine. “The corridor could do with a wipe-down too,” he called to the others. Glancing over, he caught Jag staring at him. It was a strange mixture of fascination and fear.
“Fuck you,” Jag said boldly.
“You wish,” Red muttered under his breath. He made sure his face was turned away so none of the young people could hear him over the hooting and tutting about Jag’s reply. But as Red glanced back up, he saw Carter had returned and was standing in the doorway. There was no way he wouldn’t have heard. Red sorely regretted not keeping his mouth shut when he saw the look on Carter’s face.
CARTER caught up with Red a few minutes later, when the others were out of earshot. He wished they could go somewhere private, but it was more important to catch Red quickly, before any harm was done. “For God’s sake, Red. You can’t say things like that in front of the young people. It can be seen as provocation—as harassment.”
“Come on, Carter. Even if he’d heard—and I made sure he didn’t—he’s not goin’ to complain to anyone, is he?”
“Why the hell not?”
Red laughed, but it sounded edgy. Carter was sure Red knew he was stepping on dangerous ground, but he had that “damned if I’ll be intimidated” look in his eye. He’d seen it in Red before now, most notably when Carter had been protesting about the new sports equipment.
“Carter, he’s usin’ all his energies to keep in the bloody closet, that’s why. Do you mean you haven’t realized he’s gay? At the very least, questionin’. And in the meantime, you’re going to let him get away with that disgustin’ behavior?”
“Sometimes you have to. It’s about choosing your battles. Are you questioning my capability for this job? I don’t let him get away with it when he’s at the club sessions.”
Red winced at the tone in Carter’s voice, and the muscles tightened at the edges of his mouth. “I can well believe it.”
“Fuckin’ A!” came a sudden cry from down the corridor. There was a loud whoop of excitement and a couple of catcalls. Carter realized it was all coming from the games room. Red glanced at him, puzzled. But understanding dawned in his eyes as they both listened to the bubbling conversation that followed.
“Is this all ours?”
“Where’d it come from?”
There was the click of pool balls being rolled against each other. “Decent cushions, ’bout bloody time!”
“Like you c’n hit a barn door with a cue, Ethan.”
“Fuck you too, Jag!”
“There’s hoops here too, for the field. And football goals.”
“And netballs” came a female voice, followed by more catcalls. But they were happy sounds, united sounds.
“Have you forgiven me?” Red asked Carter. His voice was quiet.
Carter paused. There was no point carrying a grudge beyond a reasonable point, and what’s more, he knew when that point was reached. “For the sports equipment? Yes. For the politically incorrect mutter to Jag, one of our more vulnerable young people, who’s still finding his way in life?”
“Okay, okay—”
Carter put a hand on his arm. “Just keep your thoughts to yourself if you’re here. I suspected about Jag, but it’s not something we’ve been able to talk about yet. Maybe never will be. And Pam mightn’t be as understanding about your wisecracks. She has official guidelines to maintain. If she thought Jag was at risk in any way from outside people coming into the center….”
“If you think for one minute I’d—!”
“For God’s sake, listen to me properly, will you? I’m just saying that we have to be careful who we allow to interact with the young people, at least on our time. That applies to everyone, not just you. I’m not accusing you of any designs on Jag. But other, more malicious and bigoted people may, if they hear you’ve been sparring with him, verbally or otherwise.” For a moment, Carter was uncertain how to continue. He took a step closer to Red and lifted a hand. Then he let it drop. “Look. Red. I need to say something to you.”
“God, is it another set of guidelines I’ve trampled on in my cavalier fashion?”
Carter ignored that. “I didn’t want you here because I thought it wouldn’t work. That you’d be a hindrance.” Is that all? He deserves my total honesty. “Maybe I didn’t want you here because it’s my world, somewhere I’m protective of. Too protective, probably. I thought you might think less of me.”
“I might… what?”
“This is poorly paid work, full of people’s lives rather than spreadsheets. No definitive results, no profits, no measurement. Just as likely to fail as succeed, in some cases. And other times, you’ll never even know the outcome.”
“But you enjoy it. You want it. You’re good at it.”
Carter felt the flush rise up his neck to suffuse his whole face. Red’s words had been genuine and spontaneous—and all the more treasured for that. “I want to be, yes. Thanks.”
“You can trust me, you know.”
“I do know. At least, I do now. You’ve joined in without a complaint today, and before. I just wanted to say….”
Red looked as though he was actually holding his breath, which was rather weird. The look in his eyes had softened too.
Carter swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “I wanted to say thank you,” he said.
THE young people were the first to leave the center after the afternoon’s work. They snagged most of the cola cans Pam had brought along with her for refreshments, then left for their own homes. They chattered into their mobiles as they went, laughing, teasing, scraping flakes of paint off their skin and hair and generally making light of the fact they’d done a lot of hard work and were thoroughly pleased and tired out with it.
The staff came to a natural stopping time later on, as the evening started to dim the light into the rooms. Pam and Amy had finished the kitchen, the offices were basking in their new paint job, and Ben finished some minor repairs on the guttering and came back into the center to clean up. Carter made sure everyone met in the hallway to collect coats and bags, so they could all leave together and he could lock up.
Amy glanced at her watch. “Blimey, it’s six already. I’m due at my sister’s by eight.”
“I’ll give you a lift,” Pam said. “We’ve done a hell of a lot today. Thanks, everyone.”
As they all meandered out of the center, Carter stopped suddenly. “Damn.”
Red turned back to look at him. “Anything the matter?”
“I left my keys back in the office.” Carter patted his pockets, shaking his head. He called over to the others, who’d paused on their way to their cars, or to the nearest bus stop. “You all get off home. Pam, I’ll lock up after us.”
He ran up the steps and back into the building. The rooms were quiet now they’d all left, and he was pleased that the smell of new paint was already fading, mixed in with the older odors of coffee and toast and cleaning products. He jogged down the corridor to the main office and opened the top drawer of the desk. With a sigh of relief, he found his keys. He occasionally dropped them in there when he arrived at the center, especially if he were doing physical work, when they might get in the way on his belt or in his pocket. The drawer wasn’t always kept locked, but it kept the keys out of view.
And then he heard the creak of a door. He stuck his head out of the office, trying to spot where the noise had come from. It must have been within the center. They weren’t near enough to any other building for it to have been so clear otherwise. “Hello?” he called. Had they left someone in here? One of the young people? He was sure Pam had checked the book as they all left, and everyone had signed out. But there was no answer to his call. Carter had walked right past the small third office on his way in, and he reckoned that was the source. There was nothing in there at the moment except a couple of lockers for the young people to use while they were helping out. He’d moved all the other furniture out today while they were decorating. Cautiously, he pocketed his keys and walked slowly back toward the front of the building.
As he passed the room in question, he looked in. A young man was peering into a locker, his back turned to the door. While Carter watched, he pulled out a small backpack from the very back of the locker, unzipped it, and rummaged inside for something. The lockers couldn’t be used to store anything valuable, Carter knew, because the locks were unreliable. But occasionally a backpack was left in there for a few days and had never come to harm. Pam also used the room to store boxes of biscuits and drinks, especially while they’d been working on the café and kitchen. But Carter could see immediately the boy wasn’t messing about with a can of cola or a few bars of chocolate.
“Owen. What are you still doing here?”
The boy swung around, startled. He obviously hadn’t heard Carter return. “Nothin’.”
The age-old response of a teenager caught in the act, Carter thought wearily. Owen’s face had flushed a bright, guilty red, and he clutched the backpack and a small transparent plastic bag to his chest. “What have you got there?” He hoped this wasn’t going to be like the time Owen had been caught pinching a box of crisps or that time he’d taken Amy’s cigarettes from the kitchen table. That had all seemed forgivable at the time, especially as there hadn’t been any repeat behavior since.
“It’s mine. It’s my backpack,” Owen said, quickly. Too quickly. He stepped back, but that was his downfall. Startled, and naturally rather clumsy, he caught his elbow on the open locker door and yelped with the sudden pain. At the same time, he fumbled and dropped the plastic bag. Carter moved more swiftly than he did and snatched it up from the floor. He recognized what it was, even though he’d hoped against hope it wasn’t. It was small, but it was almost three-quarters full of weed.
“Dear God, Owen. Is this yours too?”
Owen shrugged and shook his head. He didn’t seem to know what to do or say.
“You’ve been keeping this here, at the center? How could you?” Carter fought hard with his anger. “I have to take this off you.”
“It’s f’r personal use,” Owen said. Too quickly, again. It was as if he was reciting a script he’d been told to use. “You can’t do me for it.”
“It’s not for me to do you at all,” Carter said, sharply. “I’m just talking about the rules of the center. No drugs, no drink, no dealing.”
“Not dealin’. Not fuckin’ dealin’!” Owen looked stricken. It was the first burst of passion Carter had ever seen from him. The young man was usually quite withdrawn.
“Okay. I’m not debating this now. I’m taking this, you’re going home, and we’ll follow up later.” Owen scuffed his shoes against the wall—oversized, grubby trainers. They’d seen better days, and were probably hand-me-downs. “Owen, did you hear me? Pam and I will come around to your house if and when we need to talk to you—”
“You can’t do that,” Owen blurted out. “Can’t come t’ my place!”
Carter took an extra breath. “Okay. We’ll see what else we can do. But you can’t come to sessions at the center again.”
For the first time, Owen raised his head and stared directly at Carter. His eyes were wide and shocked. “Huh?”
Shit, Carter thought. Owen obviously hadn’t connected cause and effect. “It’s an immediate ban. You were here for the talk on drugs last month, weren’t you? We said then what the center’s policy was. Zero tolerance. But we gave you all the contact names and links to seek help or just to talk about the issues with people who know more than we do. People who’ve been there, and come out of it.” He tried to gentle his voice. Owen looked completely stunned. “You can always talk to Pam about it. Or me.”
“No, I can’t.” Owen’s voice was higher than usual, his pupils wide and distraught. “No, I fuckin’ can’t.”
RED was standing beside the car when Carter exited the building, nudging a stumbling Owen in front of him. Carter glanced his way and Red frowned at them both, obviously puzzled. Carter stopped, intending to talk more to Owen, but the young man turned away and took to his heels, racing across the car park and out of the drive like a frightened hare. Carter stared after him for a minute, then let his shoulders sag. The day had been too long for this. He turned and walked over to meet Red.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Carter said. He knew any smile he managed would be bitter. “I mean, I’ll deal with it later.” Red paused a moment, obviously to see if Carter would share any more, but Carter couldn’t face talking about it just yet.
“Miles just called me,” Red said. “Did we all want to meet up for supper as soon as we’ve finished here?”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” Carter said. He couldn’t face much socializing, either. It had been a shock, finding Owen like that. “But if you…?”
“No, I already took the liberty of sayin’ no thanks. I must be gettin’ old, but I’d rather stay in tonight with a hot shower like Zeke was recommendin’ the other day, then relax in some more comfy clothes.” He looked ruefully at his jeans. There was a large bleach stain down the left leg, paint on his right hip, and a couple of small rips in the knee that had probably been caused by loose staples. “Though I admit I’m hungry.”
Was it his imagination, Carter thought, or had Red sounded relieved at not going to supper with their friends? He kept his voice quiet but steady. “If you don’t mind not going straight back to your flat, we could order takeaway on the way back. Eat it at mine. My treat.”
Red looked at him, unable to hide the fact he was surprised at the invitation. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he? Only that morning, Carter had been yelling at him to keep out of his business, and now he was asking him to supper.
“Do you want me to drive?” Red said gently. “You look pretty exhausted.”
Carter felt a huge release of tension. “God, yes, please.” He held out his keys. “You know this make, and… I confess, when I’m tired, I’m not great at driving in the dark. I know it means you’ll be stranded at mine—”
“I can get a cab home after supper,” Red said quickly. “No problem.” He was being so carefully polite that Carter assumed he must look as tired and disorientated as he felt. “Let’s get going.”