‘She’s fine.’ Clarence’s insincerity didn’t faze Gabriel. ‘Are you trying to get out of paying Bruce his money?’
‘Excuse me?’ Clarence’s eyes widened and his head jutted forward as much as it could on his short neck.
‘I couldn’t help but overhear—along with everybody else—that you owe Bruce for work he’s already done.’
‘I don’t see how that’s any business of yours,’ Clarence sneered.
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t conduct your business out in the open then, but regardless, all I could hear was that Bruce did some work for you and you’re trying to get out of paying.’
‘The very nerve to suggest that I don’t pay my bills,’ Clarence’s voice thundered. ‘The insolence.’
As much as he liked to see Clarence squirm, he couldn’t afford to lose a client. He did not need Gabriel fighting his battles for him. He could do this himself. And the more Gabriel angered Clarence, the less chance he had of getting paid.
‘Gabriel, it’s fine.’
‘No, it’s not. He’s trying to stiff you out of five thousand dollars.’
‘I’m not stiffing anybody!’ Clarence declared.
Bruce clamped his mouth shut and held back a snort of laughter.
‘Then you won’t mind paying Bruce today, will you?’ Gabriel said with crystal-clear diction.
Clarence blustered, saying all sorts of things to Gabriel as if he were the one who’d demanded the money, and all the while Gabriel kept that still expression on his face, like he’d gone behind a door where nothing and no-one could hurt him. Clarence finished railing and scowled at Gabriel.
‘Today, Clarence,’ Gabriel said, unmoved by the performance. ‘You don’t want people to think you can’t pay, do you?’
Clarence was nothing if not proud of his standing within Brachen. Or the standing he thought he had. Most people thought of him as just another windbag puffed up with his own self-importance.
Clarence’s eyes narrowed with a malevolence that chilled Bruce’s spine. ‘You’ll have the money posthaste.’
And there’d be no mention of the bookshelves again.
‘Good,’ Gabriel said, that one word like a shove to Clarence’s back.
He stalked off, and they watched him go.
‘You know his real name’s Rodney, don’t you?’ Gabriel turned to him, his lips softening out of their hard line into a confidant’s smile.
Bruce couldn’t match his levity. Despite his assurances, it would be a miracle if Clarence paid. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that.’ He’d been handling it in his own way. It might have taken a while to get Clarence to agree but he’d have got there without upsetting the tenor.
‘I was only trying to help.’
‘Some help. I don’t need you bullying my clients.’
Gabriel frowned. ‘If anyone was being bullied, Bruce, it was you. How long has he avoided paying?’
‘That’s not the point. That’s not how I like to do things, and now he’ll tell people I’m strongarming him for money.’
‘If they believe that then they’re not worth your time and skills.’ Gabriel put his hand on Bruce’s arm. A shiver raced beneath his skin.
No matter how small, how light Gabriel’s touch was, it shook Bruce to the core. How could he be so kind when he’d been the cause of Jason’s betrayal? He’d never confronted Gabriel over his deception; Jason had been the one to tell him, delivering the parting shot that ripped through his heart. Gabriel and Jason had been sleeping together behind Bruce’s back. When Gabriel left, Jason had followed, revealing that truth. He’d expected it from Jason but not from Gabriel. From that moment he couldn’t trust any of their history. Couldn’t trust Gabriel Mora.
He stepped back and Gabriel’s hand hovered in the air for a second before dropping. ‘I have to go.’ His appetite had vanished.
‘Bruce, I was only trying to help.’
‘Go home to your mum, Gabriel. She needs your help more than I do.’ He marched off and jumped in his ute, gunning it down the street and on toward the next job.
Chapter Eleven
As expected, the backstage door was propped open with a brick. The faint strains of music wafted out of the dark entrance. Bruce would be inside, working, getting things done. Probably by himself. His ute was the only vehicle in the car park; but the theatre was close to town so one could walk over the suspension bridge to get there. Gabriel hoped there were others around—for Bruce’s sake; not so much for his own. He rubbed his temple and stared into the gloom, before forcing himself in to confront the giant, no matter how much his legs shook climbing the beanstalk.
He crept around road cases and stacked pieces of flooring. Sixties rock ’n’ roll got louder the further in he went, accompanied by the occasional beat of one hammer. He strained to hear more voices. When Bruce came into view, Gabriel hid in the shadows, waiting for anyone else to appear. He’d rather not have an audience if Bruce told him to get lost.
Bruce had set up a portable workbench on the back part of the stage, with tools laid out neatly for him to grab as he needed. His broad and muscled back faced the door until he moved around. Gabriel stepped back but Bruce was concentrating and didn’t look up. His tongue stuck through his teeth as he tightened a clamp holding two pieces of timber in place. He picked up the hammer, working quickly to nail them together with a few blows. Bruce hummed in tune with the music. Lost in his world.
No, not lost.
Home. Where he should be.
Gabriel hesitated. Bruce didn’t want or need his help—he’d made that clear earlier—and he looked happy being alone. And considering they were Gabriel’s ‘complex’ designs, Bruce would welcome him about as much as a safety inspector on a building site. Not that Bruce had to worry about ever getting a reprimand. As much as Gabriel wanted him to be shirtless to the waist, sweat dripping down his back and through the hair on
