what else would there be? The only other requirement was hospitality and I didn’t do hospitable. Let Gary make the tea or pour the beer. Moving day would be one day I was more than willing to put up with Bill bending my ear about some bullshit or another, while eyeing up the twink I was sure had been giving me the glad-eye.
Bill groaned. I grinned. I’d still have the day to myself at home even if I did have to work, and I was getting two other days off instead. Not so unprofitable a phone call after all.
“I’ll come in at the end of the working day to let you know what I’ve come up with. If there are any problems I’ll call to let you know.”
“Fine.”
Gotcha. “I’ll need you to email me the details of what the problem is. I’ll run a diagnostic in the morning and set about trying to flush the bugs out.”
“Yeah, do that then. Bye.”
I stared at the dead phone for a second before sliding it shut and jamming it into my jacket pocket. “You’re welcome. Right.” Hitching my laptop bag on my shoulder, I started walking. One day off lost—if another two gained—one complete stranger to go make nice with. How much worse could the day get?
I kicked the front door shut behind me with a click less terminal than I’d like.
Ordinarily it made me think, “Home again, home again, clickety click,” but not this time. Not when I had work to do.
“Kit, there you are.” Gary hovered in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed like a nagging housewife. All he needed was his hair in rollers and to brandish a rolling pin.
“You say that like I’m late.”
“You are.”
“Hmm.” I cocked my head. “Oh well. Got a call from Bill, he wanted me to go in tomorrow but I told him to get fucked and…is the…” I peeked round the living room doorway. An empty room with nothing out of place.
“Steven? He’s in the kitchen. We were just having coffee before I give him the tour. You want to come meet him?” Gary thumbed over his shoulder and I resisted the urge to screw up my eyes and get a closer look at the shadowy form lurking just out of sight, partially masked by the door.
“No, I thought you were dealing with all that crap anyway? I meant the modem and router. They’re still switched on, I take it?”
“Yeah, I was on my laptop earlier to send emails to… Look, you should probably come meet…”
“Are you kidding? I’ve just had my day off pulled from under me and Bill’s emailing me some shit he needs sorting out. I want to get as much as possible done tonight so I can still spend some of tomorrow with my feet up.” Consciously dropping my voice, I eyed the kitchen behind Gary and beckoned with a discreet nod of my head. He came closer. “You can deal with him, can’t you? You always said I scare people off and if he’s sober and solvent and employed, then fine. Just sign him up. I’m not bothered, as long as he’s not gonna slaughter us in our beds.”
“Yeah, but you should meet him. He actually seems halfway normal.”
“No balloon animals?”
Gary shook his head.
“Is he one of the undead? A serial killer? He doesn’t believe he’s Napoleon or collect belly button fluff in coffee jars? Talk to the voices in his head?”
“What are you smoking? God, no, he—”
“Good, then just sign him, then, before he takes his wallet elsewhere.”
“You are such a mercenary bastard, Blackman, you know that?”
Backing up the stairs, holding my palms open in feigned innocence, I smiled. “I have a swinging brick where my heart used to be, Lacey. Now, go on. Shoo. Shoo. You have a housemate to go sign.”
From the tone of his voice—low, growled—I guessed he was swearing at me, but my laughter blocked out any specific words. Four-letter ones, knowing him. Most of them learned from me given that Christopher Blackman was King of the Potty Mouths.
I booted up the laptop before I’d even got my jacket off then kicked off my shoes and pulled my T-shirt over my head. Lax though the dress code was at work—ironed jeans were considered making an effort—I couldn’t wait to get my ‘work gear’ off. A shower would have been cool—well, boiling hot was my preference—but it’d have to wait. Bill’s email would come through any second and I wanted to check exactly what the problem was. I hoped he was getting his panties in a bunch over nothing, but one never knew…
I was a couple of hundred words into my well-crafted reply, a thinly-veiled bullshit translation of “Bitch, please, are you a complete techno-tard?” when I heard footsteps on the stairs and laughter.
Good sign. The tour continues, and they sound like they’re getting on.
Then one of them had to go and spoil it all by knocking on my door.
“I’m working.”
“Come on, Kit, stop being such an anti-social bastard and come to meet Steven.”
“I told you, I’m—”
“I’ve got tea.”
I jumped off the bed and threw the door open. “Why didn’t you say—” For a moment the presence of two men surprised me, as if Steven being there had deleted all mental preparation I’d done to accept a stranger being in my home. He blinked and frowned and I wondered if a shirtless blond with a really bad temper was so unusual that he had to keep staring like that. “Thanks. Shame it isn’t beer, though.” I lifted the mug out of Gary’s hand, telling myself it was the heat making mine shake, and moved to tap the door shut with my foot.
“Wait.” Gary put his hand out. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“I said thanks.”
“Steven.”
“What, did he make the tea? You’ll settle in here, then. Milk, no sugar for me. Have a nice day. Bye—”
“Will you stop doing that?” Gary didn’t even give Steven a chance to speak and I wasn’t even sure the
