Coming to the theatre was a mistake. His skills lay in telling other people what to build, not how. He’d wanted to check that Bruce was alright. And he was. Without him.
He turned to go but got caught in his feet and fell against a road case. It banged into something else loud and sonorous. Gabriel cringed.
‘Who’s there?’ Bruce’s voice boomed.
Gabriel swore as he picked himself up and stepped into the light.
‘Gabe.’ Bruce frowned. ‘What are you doing here? Checking up on my work again?’
Gabe. Slip of the tongue?
But the sound of that single syllable throbbed in his solar plexus. He’d blown his cover so he may as well get on with it. He walked towards Bruce who stood with the hammer in his hand like some redheaded Thor. An easy slouch to his shoulders, his shirt tight across his chest, comfortable in his domain.
‘I came—’ He spoke barely loud enough to be heard over the music. He cleared his throat. ‘I came to see if I could help.’
Bruce grunted. ‘Haven’t you helped me enough for one day?’
Sharp-taloned rejection swiped his chest but he resisted the urge to retaliate. If Bruce wanted to nurse his hurt pride, Gabriel wouldn’t provide the milk. ‘Why? Did Clarence pay you already?’
‘No, and I doubt he will thanks to the way you spoke to him.’ Bruce returned to his work, picked up a nail and aligned it straight as an arrow.
‘I’m sorry I upset you but Clarence will pay. You were just being too easy with him.’
He didn’t hammer the nail home. Instead he straightened and the little piece of metal disappeared into his fist. ‘I have a right to conduct my business in the way I choose.’
‘You were being taken advantage of.’
‘You’d know all about that.’
Bruce’s accusation struck him in the chest and made him flinch. He’d be less surprised if Bruce had actually hit him with the hammer. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he growled. Green flames flickered in his eyes.
‘No, tell me.’ He drove his weight into the floor. They were finally getting to the crux of Bruce’s hostility towards him and he would not be deterred. Bruce couldn’t run away this time.
‘Forget it.’ Bruce waved his hand, the gesture cutting deep into the soft underside of Gabriel’s ribcage. ‘Go home to your mother. That’s where you should be.’
Air blasted through his nostrils as he fought to withstand the hurt. He would not run from this either. ‘I knew you’d say that. For your information she told me to get out of the house. She’s got a friend staying with her tonight and wanted to give me a break. She practically had to force me out.’
‘Then go bother someone else.’
‘Why won’t you let me help? You’re the only one here and it can’t be easy.’
‘Your mother’s designs certainly made sure of that.’
‘For God’s sake, let me help you. Like you used to.’
‘That was different. I wasn’t getting paid back then.’
‘I’m not asking to get paid, Bruce. I just want to help.’
Bruce gripped the hammer just below the head and squeezed. His lips had curled in on themselves, his biceps tense and solid. But for all Bruce’s strength and size Gabriel never felt threatened. He was a guardian, not a berserker. He’d always felt safe with Bruce around.
‘Please.’
Bruce let go of his breath in an explosive puff. ‘Fine. But I don’t want any talking back.’ He shook the hammer at him. ‘You do what I say and we get this done. I don’t have time for mucking about.’ Bruce walked over to his toolbox, grabbed a set of goggles and held them out. ‘Those fancy shoes of yours have steel caps in them?’
Fancy shoes? They might have had a pattern in the canvas but they weren’t even branded. He’d bought them at a discounted shoe shop in the city.
‘Umm … no.’
‘Just don’t drop anything, alright? My insurance won’t cover you.’
Gabriel took the goggles, put them on and followed Bruce’s orders while Janis Joplin crooned in the background. For a while it was just the sound of the music and Bruce’s directions as the biggest pieces of the set came together. Bruce gradually relaxed, the set of his shoulders not so square, his lips not so hard and thin. The gruffness smoothed out of his voice as he gave his commands and though they weren’t talking about anything special—barely talking at all in fact—Gabriel loved it. Seeing Bruce in his natural habitat, his softness as he gave instruction and corrected where it was needed. At times Bruce probably forgot who he was talking to, that there was a past there, that Gabriel had embarrassed him in front of a client. He forgot he was teaching Gabriel Mora. Gabriel didn’t mind. It felt like they were starting again.
‘Here,’ Bruce said as he came around and placed his big rough hands over and around Gabriel’s smaller ones. Their bodies closer, Bruce’s scent in his nose. ‘You need to hold it like this.’
There were plenty of other things he’d rather be holding than a piece of wood and drill. His face flushed with heat. Thank God Bruce wasn’t looking directly at him.
‘Gabriel.’
‘Yes, sure,’ he said as if ripped out of a dream.
‘Are you tired?’
‘What? No. I’m fine. Let’s keep going.’
Bruce stepped back but left him with a sliver of unrequited desire. ‘Nah, look, let’s take a break.’ Each step tugged Gabriel’s heart towards the redhead. Bruce looked at his phone and whistled. ‘We’ve been at it a couple of hours now. Where’d that time go? Probably should call it a night.’
‘You don’t have to because of me.’
‘I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.’ Bruce started to pack his tools.
‘So, was I a help or not?’
Bruce’s lips twitched in the corner. ‘Fine. You were a help. This time.’
That small smile was enough to keep him going. Gabriel smiled back.
