It was gone five—and several pots of tea—by the time Peg ran out of steam. Calum was already a little bit in love with her as he bid her good-bye, but he couldn’t deny she was exhausting, the polar opposite of her brother John, who’d sat quietly with his whiskey, the odd grunt the only sign he was listening to the conversation. Still, Peg was warm and kind, and so obviously fond of Brix that it was hard to match her with the infamous woman who dumped smuggled goods in Brix’s back garden.
A theory Brix seemed to find hilarious when they were alone again. “You really have been Lusmoored if you think that woman’s sweet. She’s an arsehole.”
“But you love her.”
“Aye. I love them all. Don’t make them sweet, though. Makes them family . . . a family of arseholes.”
“Have you ever thought about telling them . . . you know?”
“That they’re arseholes? I tell them all the time.”
Calum waited for Brix to realise his deflection hadn’t worked. It didn’t take long. Brix sighed and turned away to fiddle with the kettle. “I could never tell them. It was their biggest fear when I came out, and I promised them it would never happen.”
Even Calum’s own gently liberal parents had let the terrifying headlines from the eighties get the better of them, but the defeat in Brix was heartbreaking. “Do you really think they wouldn’t understand, if you told them everything? Like you did me?”
“Not everyone’s like you, Cal. You accept everyone for who they are, what they are, and all they’ve done. Most folk don’t have the heart for that.”
Calum scowled. “Me being a gullible idiot is no reason for you to go through something like this on your own.”
“And my family being who they are is no reason for you to call yourself an idiot.”
Brix’s tone was mild, but Calum knew him well enough to see he wasn’t going to budge, which led Calum on an illogical path to the internet research he’d done while Brix had slept beside him this morning. If it was accurate, Brix’s fear of sex didn’t make any sense, but was it Calum’s place to correct him? Or to assume that things would be different if his status was negative? Perhaps Brix wouldn’t want to fuck him regardless. But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have sex with anyone else—
“Where did you go?” Brix was suddenly in front of Calum, standing so close Calum’s skin tingled and his hands itched to touch him, but Brix got there first. He tapped Calum’s temple. “I don’t like it when you disappear on me. What are you thinking about?”
Calum pursed his lips, reluctant to let on how quickly his mind had slipped into the gutter, however well-meaning his thought process had been, but as Brix’s gaze turned obstinate, he realised that it would have to be him that got frank. “I’m thinking about sex.”
“Oh.” The shift in Brix was instant. He stepped away, his hands dropping to his sides. “Thinking about where you can get some?”
“Don’t be a prick.”
“Sorry.” Brix backed slowly into a nearby chair and sat down. “I just—I don’t know how to talk about sex anymore.”
Yes, you do. Calum tried not to picture how Brix’s hands had felt on his dick. Fought to bring himself back to the science he’d learned by heart in the misty light of a Porthkennack early morning. “I don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
“I don’t get why you said you’ll never have sex again.”
Brix didn’t blink. “Seriously? I’d have thought that out of everything I’ve chucked at you over the past few weeks, that would be the one thing that didn’t need explaining.”
“It would’ve been if you hadn’t told me your status is undetectable, but—”
“But what?” Brix snapped.
“You’re not infectious,” Calum said carefully. “If you bag up, there’s no reason you can’t have all the sex in the world.”
“Ah . . . you’ve been googling, eh?”
“Course I bloody have. Wouldn’t you?”
“I did, like a fucking lunatic, when I thought the HIV meant I couldn’t ink anymore. I know the science, mate.”
Common sense told Calum to let it go, but the masochist in him wouldn’t quit. “So why can’t you have sex . . . with me, or anyone else—”
“Because I’m scared of it, Cal, like I was scared of putting a needle to someone, but this is worse . . . much worse, especially if we’re talking about me and you.”
“Me and you?”
“Don’t look so shocked. You just said it.”
True, but hearing it from Brix’s mouth was something else. Calum swallowed. “What are you so afraid of? That a condom will break? Because that ‘googling shit’ told me that even if the worst happened, with your status being undetectable, whoever you were with probably wouldn’t need the meds—that the chances of you passing on the virus are next to nil. There’s preventative PrEP I could take if you were really worried . . .” Calum realised that Brix had pressed his lips into a thin line. “What? What’s the matter?”
“PrEP isn’t available on the NHS, Cal. I only get Truvada and the other drugs because I’m positive. If you wanted to take it, it would cost you a fortune, and there’s no way I could live with you being tied to medication like I am when you’re perfectly healthy without it.”
“So no PrEP, then. Fuck me without it. Fuck whoever without it.” Calum stepped forward, nudging Brix’s legs apart, then crouching down, laying his hands on Brix’s thighs. “I’m not pretending I know what I’m talking about, or telling you how to feel, but I can’t bear to see you write yourself off like this. It’s not fair.”
“None of it’s fair,” Brix said dully. “And, believe me, I’ve tried to pull myself out of it, but it’s hard when—uh—I couldn’t do what I did with ink.”
“What did you do with ink?”
“Nothing for the first six months I was back here. Didn’t have it in me. I was still ill too. Could hardly get up some days.”
“What changed?”
Brix shrugged. “The sea, I s’pose. Summer faded and the storms came. I don’t like the cold, but watching the waves batter the rocks was good for my soul . . . cleansing, I guess. In the end, I made a deal with my HIV counsellor that I’d set up Blood Rush anyway, give the cool folks I knew a place to work, then at least try to start inking again . . . and keep inking, over and over, until I’d convinced myself I wasn’t gonna kill anyone.”
Calum couldn’t imagine Brix without a tattoo gun in his hand. The thought alone was enough to make him shudder. “Your counsellor sounds pretty wise.”
“She was.”
“Was?”
“I only had her for six months. After that, I was on my own—apart from the clinic, but I only see them twice a year now.”
Six months? For a disease that would haunt Brix for the rest of his life? Jesus. But it wasn’t the time for Calum’s own outrage. He drew an abstract design on Brix’s clothed thigh. “Her theory worked though, didn’t it? You did more ink the other day than I’ve done all week.”
“It’s not the same as sticking my dick in someone.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No—listen, fuck—Calum, God.” Brix clenched his eyes shut and scrubbed at them, then refocussed with a heavy sigh. “Look, I know it’s irrational . . . I know it all, but I can’t be the reason someone feels like I do now. I can live with everything else, but not that, Cal. I can’t do it.”
Calum sighed too, defeated, and stood. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself. You deserve all the love in the world, and there’s no reason outside of your own head that you can’t have it.”
There wasn’t much left to say, and Calum had probably said too much as it was, but as he turned towards the stairs, there was one last question he had to ask. “What happened between you and Jordan when he found you? You never told me.”
Brix’s troubled eyes flashed guiltily. “I hit him . . . a lot, like the Lusmoore I am. Ironic, eh? The only time I toe the family line and they’ll never know.”<
br />
“You beat him up?”
“Aye.”
London Brix had always had a temper, a streak of hotheadedness that flared up when Calum least expected, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t picture Brix actually hurting anyone, especially now, when Porthkennack seemed to have mellowed him so much. “How did you leave it?”
“Badly. We haven’t spoken since, and I wouldn’t know where to find him even if I wanted to. I didn’t mean to hurt him, but I can’t forgive him for being so fucking selfish.”
Calum had no answer to that. He left Brix to his brooding and went upstairs to change out of the clothes he’d worn to muck about in the chicken run. He undressed slowly, and when he was naked, went to the window and opened it wide, letting the bracing sea air cut into his bare skin. With Brix’s faith in the sea echoing in his mind, he half expected it to ease the pain in his heart. But nothing happened, save a tingling rush of goose bumps.
He shut the window and sank onto his bed. The last few days had left him numb, and the weight of all Brix had shared was only now beginning to sink in. His heart ached for Brix and all he’d endured, but more than that, the fact that he’d been alone, while Calum had wasted four years with Rob . . . Jesus. Calum couldn’t take it. He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, then put his head in his hands and wept.
The dark outline of the rose seemed to Brix to ink itself, like he’d etched the design a thousand times over, which wasn’t as fanciful an idea as it seemed. In fifteen years of tattooing, he’d seen more than his fair share of roses.
Mind, today’s was probably the biggest he’d done, a huge, intricate bouquet of vintage blooms that spanned the voluptuous burlesque dancer’s entire back. Combined with the ink she already had, it was going to look awesome. At least, it would if he ever got it finished. The poor girl rarely lasted an hour under the needle before she tapped out and ran for the nearest bog.
Brix glanced at the clock. Forty minutes in to their second shift. “Doin’ okay down there?”
The woman—Taz—spared him a tense nod. “I’ll tell you if I’m not.”
Fair enough. Brix changed his needle and set to work on the first layer of shading, blending the gradient around the outline of the roses until he was happy he’d found the right depth. It took a while, and the next time he looked up, Calum had appeared at Lee’s station, like he always did when he was at a loose end.
Brix smiled as he watched them put their heads together and giggle like old school chums. Perhaps Lee had needed Calum in her life as much as he had—
Need.
Brix’s brain did a sharp one-eighty, leaving Lee far behind as it nose-dived into the gutter . . . or, more precisely, Brix’s bed, where he’d spent the last ten nights sleeping with Calum stretched out beside him, neither one of them mentioning the giant elephant sharing their space. Brix’s hand shook, a minute tremor that was gone as suddenly as it had arrived, but it was intense enough for him to inhale sharply and withdraw his gun from Taz’s skin.
Calum looked up as Brix sat back, as though he’d heard Brix’s racing thoughts. Their eyes met, and Calum grinned. Brix swallowed hard and returned the gesture, though his stomach did an uncomfortable flip, like it had become apt to do ever since Calum had kicked a hole in Brix’s self-imposed wall of celibacy.
“. . . there’s no reason outside of your own head . . .” Calum’s words echoed in Brix’s head every moment he wasn’t distracted, and now, with his gaze locked with Calum’s, trapped and entranced, he allowed himself to briefly fantasise that such a thing could be true. To wonder if Calum’s impassioned sermon could become a reality.
Because if Brix was ever to be with a man again, it would only—could only—be Calum.
With considerable effort, Brix refocussed on Taz; his time with her was running out.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Calum and Lee getting ready to go out. For a moment, irrational anxiety lanced his heart, but he fought it, remembering that he’d given them a secret mission to buy booze for Lena’s surprise good-bye do at the weekend, a task that would take them inland to a town with bigger shops than Porthkennack.
They left. Brix sank his teeth into his bottom lip and let his work absorb him. Despite Taz’s low pain threshold, she was a pleasure to ink. Her skin was flawless and beautiful, and her taste in artwork a perfect fit with the traditional designs Brix favoured.
“Let me up.” Taz tapped his leg urgently.
“Whoa. Hang on.” Brix took his foot from the pedal and pushed his stool back, holding the gun safely out of the way. “Okay, you’re clear. Do what you gotta do.”
Taz scrambled from the bench and dashed to the bathroom. Brix waited a few minutes, but when she didn’t return, he knew they were done for the day.
Oh well. He packed away and went to the front desk to figure out how to process Taz’s payment, a task he didn’t relish.
And if he’d expected any help from Lena, he’d been sadly mistaken. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “You’ve got to learn.”
Grumbling, Brix gingerly clicked on a few things on the computer screen. “I know how much she owes and how to count her cash. Why does the rest of it have to be so complicated?”
“It’s not complicated. It’s efficient, so the tax man doesn’t crawl up your arse and ruin your life.”
Brix shot Lena a sideways glance, trying not to flinch. A few months ago, he’d have hardly noticed her crude choice of words, but the last few weeks had brought all he’d tried so hard to hide from back to the surface, simmering painfully in his chest, like the shadowed burden it had always been.
“Brix?”
“Hmm?”
“Oh for God’s sake. Move over.” Lena shoved him aside and brought up the invoice Brix would never have found on his own. “Two hours, plus consultation time. She’s in for one-eight-five.”
“Ta. Will you take it for me? I gotta do something.”
“Arsehole.” Humour danced in Lena’s eyes. “Go on. Fuck off.”
It wasn’t quite as simple as that. When Taz finally reappeared, Brix still had to wrap her ink before he could let her go, but once she was safely with Lena and on her way out, he left his station and went to Calum’s, searching out the battered box Calum had brought back from London.
Inside he found the vintage tattoo machine—Dottie—Calum had spoken so fondly of, still fragmented in a dozen pieces, waiting for someone to bring her to life. Brix took the box to the office at the back of the studio and laid the parts out on his desk. Even fragmented, the machine was a thing of beauty, though it was going to take all his skills to restore her.
Brix got stuck in, working at a steady clip until he came to the rear spring, a classic place for sparking and overheating in older machines. He loosened the tension in the spring and ran the machine for a few minutes, cursing when it cut out. A weak connector was a ball-ache he could do without if he wanted to fix Dottie up before Calum returned.
With that in mind, he went to the storeroom and searched around in the boxes of mismatched machine parts, searching for the remnants of his own vintage coil gun. Eventually, he found a handful of washers and a clip chord that might do the trick.
He was road-testing his handiwork when Kim stuck his head around the door a little while later, leaning casually on the architrave in a way that would’ve fooled anyone except Brix and Lena. “What’s up, Kim?”
“Up? Nothing, mate. All good in this hood.”
“Yeah?” Brix turned Dottie’s power down, checking her capability at a lower voltage. “Not freaking out over Lena going back to Bristol, then?”
“You’re asking me now? When she’s leaving on Sunday?”
Shit. Brix switched Dottie off. With his own bullshit to drown in, he’d neglected Kim, a friend almost as dear to him as Calum. Almost. “I guess I just figured you were okay with things because you haven’t said otherwise. Sorry, mate. I’m so fucking self-absorbed at the moment.”
Kim grinned. “You don’t know how to be sel
fish. But I am okay with things. More than okay. I love Lena to death, and that ain’t gonna change.”
Brix nodded slowly. “You deserve to be happy.”
And it was true. Kim had his fair share of demons, but he’d fought them off in a way Brix could only dream of.
Perhaps sensing the oncoming cloud of self-loathing, Kim gripped Brix’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Take your own advice, bud. You know how awesome Calum is, don’t you?”
“Course I bloody do.”
“And you know he adores you, right?”
Heat flooded Brix’s cheeks. He stepped away from Kim and turned back to Dottie. “Don’t be a dick.”
“I won’t if you won’t. Lee told me Calum’s sticking around for a while. I’m gonna make a wild assumption he’s staying to be with you, which is fucking great. Just don’t balls it up by throwing your best Lusmoore at him.”
“I’m not going to fleece him of his priceless family heirlooms.”
“No, but you might let whatever bullshit got you this far have its day while you and him fall by the wayside. I know you, Brix. You let life consume you, eat you up, while the rest of the world goes on without you.”
“That’s not going to happen with Calum.” Brix didn’t know how true the words were until he said them, but HIV be damned, he wasn’t letting Calum go. “You look after your boy, and I’ll take care of mine, yeah?”
“Suits me. I’m off home. Be lucky, mate.”
And with that Kim was gone, leaving Brix with Dottie and a newfound determination he couldn’t shake. Didn’t want to shake. Or did he? Years of abstinence had almost convinced Brix that he didn’t even like sex. Can’t have done if he’d gone without it for so long. But then Calum had rocked up at Truro station with his gentle eyes and broken heart, and lit a flame in Brix.
I want him.
But was it enough? The science was one thing, but surely Calum deserved better than anything Brix could give?
Or maybe they both did.
Fuck it.
Brix returned to Dottie and tightened the last few remaining parts. Then he took a cloth to her and polished her within an inch of her life. With that done, and Dottie complete, he wrapped her in a softly worn old T-shirt he found on his desk and took her back into the studio.
House of Cards Page 18
