She thought they were just going to leave her there at the house once they arrived, but they surprised her yet again by asking to go inside with her.
“We want to see what we’re going to need for the move,” Cris said, sharing a glance with Landry that didn’t fool Abbey for a second.
“Guys, you can’t beat him up.”
“We weren’t going to beat him up,” Landry assured her. “But if he happens to cross our paths while we’re there, we will suggest to him that it might be a good thing if he makes himself scarce this weekend.”
“I should make him do the moving. He said he would.”
“I’d prefer to have you settled sooner rather than later,” Landry said. “You’re not fooling me. Believe me, as someone who’s been through enough health issues in their life, I can spot the signs. You can barely function. If we hadn’t been home, there’s a good chance you wouldn’t have been able to get out of your car on your own.”
Her face reddened. “Okay,” she quietly said.
“Excellent.” Landry hooked his arm through hers and matched her slow pace up the front walk while Cris followed behind and carried her purse for her. She wasn’t sure who was more startled, Tom or her, when he opened the door and spotted the two men with her.
He quickly backed up a couple of steps, giving the men plenty of room and obviously staying out of their reach.
“Are you all right, Ab?” Tom asked.
“No, she’s not fucking all right,” Cris snapped. “Are you that stupid?”
“Cris,” Landry warned. “Don’t make me send you outside.”
Abbey felt a little satisfaction that Tom reddened in the face over Cris’ comments.
“Let’s start with your bedroom,” Landry said, leading the way.
The triad, as well as other friends, had been to Abbey’s house countless times for dinners and parties, both vanilla and kinky, and knew their way around.
The furniture in the master bedroom was hers. When she’d moved in, they’d put Tom’s stuff in the guest room since her set was larger and the bed more comfortable.
She had a desk, filing cabinet, office chair, and bookshelf in the third bedroom that was their home office. Some of the living room furniture was hers, a recliner and some bookshelves, the dinette set, things like that. The large appliances stayed with the house. Then they walked out onto the back lanai. She pointed to a blue plastic kiddie pool leaning against the wall in the corner.
“That’s George’s inside enclosure. I’ll need to transplant his plants from his outside enclosure into it so they don’t die. We can take his outside enclosure apart. It’s held together with bolts and brackets. I can store it that way.”
“We’ll take care of that for you,” Cris assured her.
“Do you think his pool will fit in your guest room?” she asked.
“Yep,” Cris said, kneeling down to study George. The tortoise hadn’t dug in for the evening yet, moving toward them at the sound of their voices. “Hey, that’s neat how he comes over like that.”
“How old is he?” Landry asked. “I must admit I never paid him much attention on our other visits.”
“Twenty-one. Drinking age.” She forced a laugh.
Tom had joined them on the lanai. She’d tried to ignore him, the way he stood there looking guilty, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his shorts. “What’s going on, Ab?” he finally asked.
Landry took over. “Abbey is moving in with us, at least until after she’s fully recovered from her surgery.” Landry turned toward Tom.
Despite a good six feet separating them, she didn’t miss how Tom stepped back under the weight of the older Dom’s glare.
“Your services moving her won’t be required,” Landry said. “We’ll be taking care of it this weekend. Starting on Saturday night and going into Sunday. Oh, and I’m sorry to hear you won’t be attending the collaring ceremony after all.”
Tom didn’t need clarification. He nervously nodded. “Yeah, pass my apologies to Mallory and Askel, please.”
Well, they had been more Abbey’s friends than Tom’s, anyway. She’d been going to Venture for several years before Tom had ever set foot in the place.
Cris stood and walked over to stand next to Landry. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know the shit about people in glass houses and all that. I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, but I’ve had a chance to right them, fortunately. Somehow, I don’t think you’re ever going to get a chance to make this right.”
Tom puffed up, frowning. “Look, I don’t owe either of you any explanations. And you’re right, Cris. I know the story of how you up and left Tilly. At least I’m man enough to tell Abbey to her face instead of writing her a note and just disappearing without her having a chance to get an explanation.”
“That’s enough,” Landry said. “Nobody’s perfect. And you’re wrong about something, Tom. Cris left Tilly because he thought I was dying. He owed me nothing. He could have turned his back on me without a second thought and gone back to Tilly without her ever knowing about me or our past together. He made the hard choice. Tilly has forgiven him for it and moved on. Tilly, in fact, made the hard choice by allowing me and Cris into her life after she’d rebuilt hers. She easily could have told me to go fuck myself when I walked into her life and exposed the full truth about what happened and why Cris left. You’re making the easy choice, to abandon someone when they need you the most. I just hope one day you can forgive yourself, because you’ll find very little sympathy among any of us.”
Abbey held her breath, wondering if Tom would dare go up against either man. Yes, Cris was Landry’s slave. And yes, Cris now had a quasi-switchy sort of fluid dynamic with Tilly, not really her Master, but not her slave, either. But he had been her Master, and he was a formidable man in his own right.
He was also a martial arts expert.
Tom folded like a wet paper bag. Without a word, he opened the sliders into the house and stepped inside, closing them again behind him.
“Chickenshit,” Cris muttered.
Landry turned to Abbey and gently hugged her. “Will you be all right with him tonight? I can run home and get an overnight bag and leave Cris here to wait with you while I do.”
“No, I’ll be okay. He’s not abusive.”
She stared at the sliding glass doors, where the vertical blinds still swayed slightly from him having gone inside.
“He’s just an asshole,” she sadly added. “Problem is, I didn’t see how much of an asshole he is until today.”
Chapter Five
When John had left work early on Thursday, he’d told his boss that he wasn’t sure if he’d be in or not Friday. That he’d have to check on Nancy first, see if she needed him, and play things by ear.
He called her a little after eight that morning. Matt answered the phone and asked if John wouldn’t mind coming by since no one else was there yet besides his aunt and uncle. His mom was still asleep but he expected her up any time.
John stopped by a Publix on the way and picked up breakfast foods from their bakery, donuts, pastries, and a couple of bottles of different kinds of juice. He added coffee and coffee fixings to that, knowing their supplies were probably depleted following the onslaught of visitors the day before.
When he arrived, there were only two unfamiliar cars parked in the driveway. Matt met him at the door, reaching for some of the grocery bags.
“Thanks for coming back.”
“Of course. I’m sorry I can’t do more than just help.”
He couldn’t fix this, or even make it right. Nothing he could do could fix this, and fixing things wasn’t just in his nature, it was his job. He fixed things so people were safe at work. When problems occurred, he fixed them, or made sure they got fixed, and took measures to make sure that, barring human error or mechanical failure, they didn’t happen again.
Not being able to fix something frustrated him to no end and didn’t help him at all with processing his grief.
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He ended up staying until just after noon, when other friends and extended family returned to the house. After going out and getting sandwich platters to help feed everyone, he quietly said his good-byes before slipping out and returning home.
Drained.
Numb.
And this is how it starts.
He called work and told them that, no, he wouldn’t be in today, but they could call him if they needed him. After clearing out his e-mail via his work phone, he changed into shorts and went out into the backyard to weed and mow. The sun beat down on his bare back as he worked and tried to avoid his thoughts and keep his head clear and focused on the task at hand.
After several hours of that, he took a dip in the pool to rinse the sweat off and then returned to the house. Naked, his usual preferred state when home alone, he started cleaning, even though it really didn’t need it. Living room first, ceiling to floor, dusting every square inch of surface and knickknacks, moving every piece of furniture even though he could easily get under stuff with a dust mop, thanks to the faux wood laminate floors he had.
From there to the dining room, the foyer, and his bedroom. By nine o’clock that night, he’d cleaned all three bathrooms, the powder room, and started on the kitchen, including emptying the fridge and scrubbing it from freezer to base, inside and out, and he was caught up on his laundry.
By midnight, he’d worn himself to exhaustion. There wasn’t much different about the house, because his usual cleaning routine rotated him through all the rooms at least once a week, but he’d achieved his main goal.
He’d managed to drive thoughts out of his head, replaced by whatever task was at hand.
After another large rum and Coke in the hot tub, he collapsed into bed, setting his alarm for six the next morning.
If he timed it right, he’d have enough time to wash and vacuum his car before he had to get ready for the funeral.
* * * *
John arrived at the funeral home an hour early Saturday morning, suspecting Nancy and the kids would already be there, and that the place would likely be packed by the time for the service. He parked a couple of blocks away so it’d be easier to get out after the service and head over to Venture. Depending on how long the memorial service lasted, he would probably make it to the club in time to witness the collaring.
He didn’t want to miss it. Askel and Mallory were a cute couple. He liked both of them, even though he’d known Askel longer. He’d even let Askel use him as a model—while fully hooded and completely unrecognizable, of course—for a couple of photo shoots.
No one knew that besides Askel. John hadn’t wanted it publicized.
When Askel had called John yesterday morning to confirm he’d be there and asking him to tone down his usual shtick because of Tilly’s already stressed mental state, he’d been happy to agree. John didn’t pry, but Askel mentioned something about a friend of Tilly’s going through a rough patch and already being nearly murderous over it.
Whether Tilly knew it or not, John liked her. Not just because it was fun to push her buttons, but because he knew how fiercely dedicated she was to her friends. He hadn’t officially played with her before, although he’d been the willing recipient of her ire at a few collarings.
A somber funeral home employee led John back to a room where Nancy, her kids, and some of her other family were waiting for things to be finalized in the largest room where the service would be held.
She stood and gave him a tearful smile, hugging him. “Thank you for coming, John. I really appreciate you being here.”
“I wish I had something to say that would make this better. I don’t have anything except I’m sorry, and if you need anything, you can always call me, day or night.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. I’m still…in shock.”
“I can imagine.”
Another family member entered, diverting Nancy’s attention and allowing John to quietly step around some of the others to where Matt and Paul sat flanking Emma. The poor girl looked like she was in shock, too.
He couldn’t blame her.
He gave them all hugs before melting back along the wall, slowly making his way over to a counter where a coffee machine, iced bottles of water, and some light snacks had been set out.
He knew why. Things relatives and friends could easily push onto the most grief-stricken of relatives, to keep their blood sugar from dropping and having them faint during the stressful time ahead of them.
Unfortunately, John was all too familiar with this funeral home. He’d attended funerals here before.
The last one being Kaden’s a couple of years earlier.
Irony.
That he’d be attending his best friend’s funeral and then leaving straight for Venture, when the last funeral he’d attended here had been for a friend in the lifestyle, met through Venture.
Although then, as today, everyone had been dressed vanilla. The only difference then was that he knew the significance of the necklaces and bracelets some of the attendees wore.
Distracting himself with the Are They Kinky or Not game wouldn’t be possible today. As far as he knew, Mick and Nancy had been vanilla. Or, if they were kinky, it hadn’t been something Mick had ever discussed with John. John had never crossed paths with them via Venture or the Suncoast Society munches or private parties, either.
Today would be an endurance test. A mental strength test.
To see how well he could wear the “normal” mask and hold himself together around people who had no idea what went on in that extremely compartmentalized section of his life. The one he kept well-hidden from everyone else.
Something not even Mick had known about, and Mick knew the worst about him.
The only one who’d known the worst about him who’d still been alive. The only person who really mattered in his life anymore.
The only person left who’d metaphorically given him kicks in the ass when he started to delve too deeply into his own belly button to the exclusion of living life.
Maybe Mick was right. Maybe I need to get another dog.
His last one, Pepper, had died of cancer four years ago. He’d resisted getting another one, his heart still not fully healed from having her put to sleep when her pain and condition had reached an inevitable point where it was crueler to force her keep living just so he didn’t have to grieve than to do the humane thing. She’d been sixteen, definitely a long and full life, but even more grief for him as he tried to adjust to that final decision.
He’d held her in his lap as the vet gave her the shot, whispering what a good dog she was and how much he loved her, getting one last weak tail thump from her before she’d left him for good.
Now, her ashes rested in an ornate carved box on his living room shelf, next to a picture of her, and her collar.
As the small room began to fill with more extended family and Nancy’s close friends, John edged his way out and walked into the main room, where the service would be held. He picked up a program from a stack of them on a table by the main doorway before he took a seat in a pew a few rows back from the front, behind the section roped off as reserved for family.
Despite his friendship with Mick, he’d never presume to insert himself that way and sit up there unless Nancy or the kids asked him.
Besides, this way he could leave after the ceremony ended without having to explain where he was going or why. Actually, to outright lie where he was going and why he had to leave. He knew everyone was going back to Nancy’s for a wake later. He suspected his absence wouldn’t be missed.
And going to a collaring, an upbeat affirmation of life, would be a welcomed relief for him, even if all he did was sit and watch and didn’t speak to a single person while he was there.
I wonder how many people will even recognize me dressed like this?
Probably not many. A few of the long-time regulars, maybe.
Someone had put together a slideshow of Mick’s life, from childhood to present, which started pl
aying on a screen at the front of the room. John wistfully smiled when he spotted himself in a few of them. Good times, smiles filling the pictures.
People started filtering in for the service, taking their seats. Then family escorted Nancy and the kids in about thirty minutes before the start time.
The service painfully demanded entry through his mental walls, pounding on them, wanting access. Wanting to release the growing pressure inside those hermetically sealed compartments where he was desperately trying to contain his emotions, to cool the glowing lava. He tuned out as much of it as he could, knowing if he let it seep in too deeply he’d lose it there in a room full of mostly strangers.
When the service finally ended about an hour later, he managed to slip through a side door after Nancy and the kids had been ushered out first. Loosening his tie, he pulled off his suit jacket and carried it as he quickly walked through the growing heat to his car. Inside, with the engine running and the AC going full-blast, he struggled to empty his mind and failed.
Too many things. Not regrets, exactly. Realities.
What am I really doing with my life?
He’d hit a point of stasis. Coasting along and gradually digging himself a rut as he rounded the track time and time again. Not an unpleasant rut, to be sure, but had he really fulfilled his potential?
Maybe it’s time to try to enter the dating pool again.
That was a joke. The last relationship he’d had, when he’d tried to broach the subject of BDSM, she’d freaked out and ended things with him before he’d even gotten to the point of explaining he wanted her to be his Top, not the other way around.
Tony and the others were always counseling newbies to fish in the right pond.
Hell, lately he hadn’t even been dipping his hook in the water. His proverbial fishing rod lay gathering dust in a locked and abandoned closet somewhere. Sure he could find play partners at the club without any trouble. That only went so far, filled only one aspect of his emptiness.
Yet he wasn’t sure he needed a relationship, either. Wanted one, sure. Who didn’t?
A Lovely Shade of Ouch Page 4
