by Lily Freeman
“No, I’ll stay. I’ll just tell my—friend.” Elliot was not her friend.
“Go ahead, I’ll take him through to theatre. Does he have a name?”
“No.” As she edged around the table, PJ got her first real look at the dog’s grubby wee face. His muzzle was pitch-black with spiky little tufts of fur shooting off in all directions, but it was the look in his eyes that broke her heart. They were huge, panic-stricken and they were riveted on her. Another rasping breath hissed out of his lopsided mouth. He was in so much pain, but he needed a name and only one came to mind.
“Vader, his name’s Vader.” She’d just named her first dog, now if he could survive the night, she might finally get to meet him.
After a nod from Christopher, PJ headed back out into the waiting area, feeling the intense weight of Elliot’s gaze the moment she stepped through the door. It was dark and brooding, unfriendly, much like the man. She was tempted to tell him, was about to open her mouth when a gut-wrenching whimper filled the room. Spinning around in a move that felt like it took forever, PJ saw Vader cradled gently in Christopher’s arms, his head lolling slowly from side to side before a nurse carefully lifted his jaw. There was another whimper, the pitch horrific, then his legs jerked right before her own buckled and the floor came rushing up to meet her, darkness encroaching from all sides, everywhere … everything ….
… … … bells were ringing … ringing, from far away, but getting closer. PJ could feel them reverberating right down her spine and they were cold—or was that her?
Oh, she recognized this feeling; the dead weight sensation, churning stomach, the hard sterile surface under her cheek, it only confirmed what she was starting to piece back together. The noise, the fall, the dark, all of it in front of—
“PJ, are you okay?”
—Elliot. After several shaky breaths she tried to answer, but the steady pounding in her head was making it impossible. “Just need … a minute.”
Elliot’s big hands slid under her arm, lifting her with a surprising amount of gentleness.
“What the hell happened, PJ?”
And he was back, all sharp accusing tone like this was her fault.
Asshole.
“I fainted.” As she pried her eyes open, she found his. They were such a deep grey like a night-sky filled with tiny black stars and she was lost in them, until she noticed his frown. “I’ll be fine in a minute. You can go now if you want to.”
“What, and just leave you lying on the floor?”
She was actually fine with that.
“I heard the vet. There’s nothing you can do now except get in the way. I’m taking you home.”
If PJ hadn’t been on the verge of vomiting, she’d have told Elliot exactly what she thought of him, but as he stared at her, not even attempting to soften his arrogant, over bearing attitude, all her arguments faded away because he was right, fuck him. Like this, she was useless.
Behind them a door opened then closed, the receptionist returning. “You feeling better? They have your little boy prepped and ready to go. If I can get you to fill out some paperwork then I can call as soon as they’re out of theater.”
PJ could barely see the woman let alone focus on her face; the paperwork was going to be a nightmare. “Sure, I’m all good now.” That was a total lie.
“You sure? I heard your fall from down the corridor. You make sure you see a doctor, you could have a concussion.”
How many times had she heard that before? But just like all the others, she brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, it happens all the time.”
Both Elliot and the woman gawked at her like she had two heads or three eyes. Unfortunately, it felt like it as the effects of her fall continued to assault her. “It’s a blood pressure thing … no biggie.”
But it was. What should have taken her five minutes to do, took ten. She could barely see the page or hold the pen, let alone remember her address. Elliot took over at that point after literally picking her up and placing her in a chair. Every time he asked her something, a personal detail that she couldn’t answer, his expression got sharper. It wasn’t that she was trying to be evasive, she just hadn’t had a chance yet to set down the foundations of her new life.
When they left after signing Vader’s life into the capable hands of Christopher Yee, Elliot drove her home. For the first twenty minutes, he insisted on taking her to a doctor while she insisted that he didn’t. It made for a very uncomfortable journey and things didn’t improve much when they pulled into the garage, where she now stood completely dwarfed by the man. PJ was starting to get pissed off. She got the distinct impression that Elliot was used to people buckling under the intensity of his stare. She however, was firmly holding her ground, well holding the car door that he’d backed her up against.
“You need to see a doctor, PJ.” His hands flexed, his fingers curling over the roof rack.
“I’m fine thank you, Elliot, can we go now please? I may need to throw up soon.”
With a frustrated grunt he stepped aside. “Have you moved in yet?”
“No.” Yes, she was actually going to hurl. Moving to the left so he was out of her line of fire, PJ swallowed, tasting the acid.
“Right, these are your options. One, you can go back to the pub and either Mika or myself will come over every two hours and wake you up to make sure you’re still alive, or two, you can come and sleep on our couch so either Mika or myself can wake you up every two hours to make sure you’re still alive.”
In the darkness of the garage, she could only just see him, which was probably for the best because if she could define any of his facial features, she was going to punch one.
“I’m fine, I just need to go to bed, my bed and sleep undisturbed until the morning.”
“One or two, PJ?”
She was thinking chin. There was no way she could reach his nose. “Neither, thank you, Elliot.” Taking another tentative step to the left, her legs began to buckle, and the stars appeared, but not the pretty ones in the sky, these ones were big and black, flying around in front of her face. Before she knew what was happening, Elliot was holding her awfully close and he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
“One or two?”
“I am fine.” She was not fine.
“You’re not, now stop fighting me and do the sensible thing.”
Keeping one arm securely wrapped around her waist, he grabbed her bag, slammed the door and then escorted her out of the garage. There was no conversation as he walked her back to the pub and no conversation as he led her up the stairs to her room. Under his uncompromising gaze, she stuffed a T-shirt and knickers into her bag, all the while huffing out little breaths of frustration. The idea of spending the night anywhere near Elliot was more than she could handle in her current state, even if it meant she got to spend time with Mika. Again she tried to reason with him.
“I’m feeling much bet—”
“Don’t bother.”
With her mouth open, PJ just stared at him. Not even Derrick, who she was sure had an actual mental illness that justified his personality issues, was as rude, offensive and down right arrogant as Elliot had been tonight. But she just didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. Her head hurt, her heart too, not to mention her shoulder on which she’d landed, her butt, her stomach—all of it was too much.
“Fine, Elliot. You win.”
Moving aside Elliot watched the fiery little bit of woman storm past him. Fuck, she had a temper or perhaps he just brought out the worst in her? Either way, by the time he reached the stairs, she was out the door having slammed it with far more force than was necessary.
There was a reason he avoided females, well several actually, but this whole situation simply reinforced everything he already knew. On the whole women caused nothing but trouble and misery. This one had been in his life less than twenty-four hours and already she’d turned his normal, calm existence on its ass. It was a drama he didn’t want, or need for that matter. Yet her
e he was escorting her home, to his home not hers, when he’d never wanted her in either.
She was waiting for him beside the door under the security light, no longer looking quite so angry, more bewildered with her cheeks flushed pink against her pale face. After punching in the door code, he held it open for her.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
For a moment she looked up at him, her eyes swimming with moisture, her lips parting like she wanted to say something, instead she just walked right past him. Again she waited outside his front door even though it was open. He was about to touch her, put his hand on the small of her back when Mika appeared.
“Oh no, Tesorino, I’m so sorry.” Mika reached for her, but she stopped him with a hand.
“He’s not dead, well not yet, but it doesn’t look good.”
With a little touch, Elliot nudged her through the door. “PJ’s going to spend the night with us, Dusha.”
“What?” Mika’s expression was adorable, somewhere between shock and elation.
“She’s not feeling well.”
“Oh!”
Glancing down at her, Elliot took in the grey tinge to her complexion and the dark shadows that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. “She fainted and cracked her head on the floor. She’s going to sleep on the couch so we can check on her and make sure she hasn’t got a concussion, aren’t you, PJ?”
She took a long time to answer and Elliot had to wonder if he should’ve pushed the visit to the doctor a little harder.
“Yes, Elliot.”
It was the noise of the coffee grinder that woke PJ, and the smell, dark and earthy, exactly what she needed. As she lay staring at the ceiling, it took a while to sort through her groggy memories: the ride home with Elliot, the arguments, the strained conversation afterwards, Mika, all of it was there just not in order, well not the correct order anyway. Although she did remember Elliot waking her on several occasions during the night.
For a long time after each, she’d lain awake watching the moonlight as it drifted through the windows and she’d thought of him, not Elliot—Luke. The way he’d held her, his strong hands shackled around her wrists, pinning them down as he’d gently thrust his erection against her. She’d felt possessed by him even before he’d kissed her, but after that, the connection between the two of them, she had no words to describe it, no past experiences to refer to. He’d been like a dream, a fantasy, a beautifully disguised nightmare. That’s what she had to keep reminding herself when she forgot the conversations she’d overheard or Sasha’s warning, Indy’s too. A man like him could destroy her without even breaking a sweat. Why he hadn’t when he’d had the chance, she really had no idea.
He was just one more man who she’d never understand, with an agenda she could never fulfill. All in all, it was for the best that things had ended the way they had. Who knows what sort of story she’d have been forced to come up with if he’d questioned her about her life or her job, her home, all those things a potential love interest would want to know. Still, none of that mattered now and she should feel relieved, but she didn’t, not really.
With a yawn PJ sat up to find Elliot staring at her with what could almost be described as a smile. “Morning, Elliot.”
“Morning, PJ. How are you feeling?”
What? Feeling slightly uneasy about Elliot’s new Jekyll and Hyde personality switch, she decided to play it cautiously. “A bit groggy, but nothing coffee won’t fix.” She smiled back, rather nervously then picked up her phone. There were five new messages from Indy, all received last night between eight pm and eleven, the time that PJ had been under lock and key with Elliot and Mika. It was also the time Indy would have been at Bond Street with Luke. Very reluctantly she opened the first one.
8:12pm ‘Had been in the club less than five minutes before Master Luke came calling. I told him you weren’t coming back … ever!’
8:37pm ‘That was what you wanted, wasn’t it???’
9:15pm ‘PJ, answer me, please!!!’
10:22 ‘He just left. Not that I care, but the man looks depressed. Master James, who’s very cute, said he’s a complete prick. Just thought you’d want to know.’
10:54pm ‘Babe, are you okay?!’
Overwhelmed by guilt, PJ sent Indy a quick text back, briefly explaining the events of her night and promising to call as soon as she’d heard anything, all the while Elliot continued to talk in the background.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“How do you take it? And are you hungry?”
“Umm white please, and yeah, I guess I am.” While she waited for some sort of come back or insult, PJ dialled the clinic.
Vader had survived the night, there was no improvement to his vitals, but that was expected. He’d woken this morning and thrown up, but apparently that was expected too. All things considered they were optimistic he would survive the day and that was all they were willing to give her.
As she sat on their couch, in her own little world dreaming about tomorrow, next week, any day that wasn’t today, a coffee was placed in front of her and a plate of toast. PJ looked up over heavily muscled thighs, tightly encased in black jeans, up over a very fitted black shirt into cold grey eyes. The question was out before she could stop it. “How tall are you, Elliot?”
“A hell of a lot taller than you.”
And welcome back Mr. Hyde. Elliot returned to the kitchen and made another coffee, which he promptly took upstairs before returning to make his own. Then as PJ watched, slightly more intrigued by the man than she should be, he came and joined her on the couch.
“So what are you doing today?” Elliot shifted, splaying his thighs in that way men do when they’ve got nothing to hide.
PJ glanced away, studying the floor, the walls, the very nice view out the window.
“I’ve got the last load of furniture arriving this morning. I haven’t finished unpacking the first lot yet so I need to get that sorted. I just ran out yesterday and haven’t been back since.”
“Mika has the day off if you need a hand, I’m sure he’d love to help you.”
“It’s true, I would.”
Wearing a pair of loose tartan pyjama pants and nothing else, Mika appeared at the bottom of the stairs looking adorable even with spiky bed hair and morning stubble. He still had his coffee which he placed on the table before wedging himself beside Elliot on the couch. PJ had never really spent much time with gay men. She’d known a few, but they’d all been single or playing their relationships out through the nightclub scene, so her reaction when Mika leaned over and kissed Elliot, was as much a surprise to her as it would have been to them. She blushed, heat flooding her face, her neck and lower areas she chose to ignore.
“Thanks,” avidly following the progress of a tugboat, she watched until it disappeared behind a building, “but you two have done enough. I’m meant to be your neighbor not your on-going problem.”
“You’re not our problem, Tesorino, and I’ve got nothing planned.”
Just as she was about to turn Mika down, her phone rang.
“PJ, we’re twenty minutes away. Don’t know what you’ve been buying, but there’s a shitload of it.”
Click.
With his normal charming abruptness Rodger had her smiling and panicking, which was something he’d managed to do numerous times over the last few weeks. He was right though, she had a shitload of stuff. Decision made, she glanced up to meet Mika’s gorgeous smile. “If you’ve really got nothing better to do, I’d love your help.”
After three hours of unpacking, PJ and Mika had cleared a path from the kitchen to the platform. Even though they were making great progress, and Mika was an absolute delight to be around, PJ’s nerves were a wreck. Her phone had been ringing all day with two calls from Indy wanting details of Vader’s medical condition, and PJ’s mental one. Another call from Christopher that to be honest had told her nothing and an unexpected call from her newly befriended cab driver R
usty. When her phone rang again she grabbed it, expecting the clinic, but that wasn’t who was on the other end of the line.
“Hello.”
“Miss Lester, this is Gabriel Knight from Bond Street, are you able to talk?”
No she wasn’t able to talk because she had absolutely nothing to say. “Yes.” Manoeuvring her way out into the hallway, PJ closed the door. “What can I do for you, Mr Knight?”
“I’m just calling to ask how you found your first night at the club, to see if the experience lived up to your expectations?”
Seriously, what the fuck was she supposed to say to that? PJ paced, making it halfway to Elliot’s door before she found the courage to speak. “I’m sorry, Mr Knight, but it wasn’t for me. I won’t be returning to the program.”
“Ahh. May I ask why?”
He could, but that didn’t mean she was going to answer him— “It’s … Christ, it just wasn’t—I …”
“PJ, please listen to me. A lot of people are completely overwhelmed by their first real experience with the lifestyle and that’s why I’m calling. If I can help you unravel your emotions, you might see the experience differently.”
“No!”
He was silent for a long time and so was she.
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I was about to approve your membership, but if you’re not going to continue, I’ll gladly refund the fee. You’ll need to come in and sign a release form though.”
There was no way in hell she was stepping back through that door.
“The club’s closed this evening. However, I have paperwork to attend to if you can spare me ten minutes?”
Ten minutes—it didn’t sound like a long time and it wasn’t really, if you were in the bath or curled up on the couch or somewhere you actually wanted to be, but the idea of spending ten minutes at Bond Street, for whatever reason, had PJ’s hand clenching so fucking tight around her phone that Master Gabriel could no doubt hear her knuckles crack, she certainly could. Yet … it was pointless to throw good money away, just because she could.
