Jake switched on the news and waited to hear about the fire. The banner running the length of the screen said there were casualties. At least three dead, and others injured. Jake shuddered and pictured Maddox’s neighbours. There was an old business man that always lifted his flat cap off his head when he greeted Maddox, and a young flashy couple that lived on the other side. Then there was Maddox’s outer neighbours, and the ones after that.
A coil of unease wrapped around Jake’s chest. The smell of smoke lingered in his nostrils, and his throat felt sticky, as if ash had deposited there. He heaved himself up, then staggered to the bathroom. Not the fancy shower Maddox had with the many sprinklers, and the colour changing lights, but his simple, limescale covered shower head, that sprayed water from the wrong places.
Jake twisted the dial to searing hot like normal and stood under the spray with a huff. The cubicle filled with steam, and he closed his eyes, hoping to wash his troubles down the plughole. The hiss of water, the stuffiness of the steam and the near lava down his back didn’t release the squirm of his insides. He thought of fire, unforgiving and destructive. He thought of smoke, clogging and blinding, and he thought of the noise, the rush, the crackle, followed by a scream.
Jake spun around and twisted the dial to cold. He dropped to the floor of the shower and tucked his knees to his chest. The cold made him gasp, and each time he did, the congested feeling eased, and his body felt lighter. He loved danger, the chase, the adrenaline, but the fire would have consumed him. It wouldn’t have given him a chance of survival and wouldn’t have given him the burst of adrenaline he craved. Maddox wouldn’t have been able to save him like with Richie; Maddox wouldn’t have been able to save himself.
Jake stayed in the shower until his skin matched the white tiles, and his toes numbed. Then he climbed out, shivered his way to a towel and wrapped it tight around his body. The smell of smoke had gone from his flesh and hair, but his clothes were still offensive to his nose. He didn’t want to touch them and left them heaped on the bathroom floor.
He crawled into bed, tugged the duvet over his head, and sunk into the mattress. The springs poked him, and after a few minutes his hip began to ache, but it beat laying on the smoke covered sofa. There was no human furnace behind him, or strong arms to hold him close. He had been seeing Maddox for six months, sleeping over most weekends. Jake craved the nights in Maddox’s bed and wondered whether he would make it a permanent arrangement. He managed to sneak a toothbrush into the bathroom, but little else. Maddox seemed content with their arrangement, but Jake itched for more.
He curled into the foetal position and wrapped his arms around himself. It was a poor substitute for Maddox, and sleep didn’t come easily.
Jake sat bolt upright with a gasp. He pressed his hand to his chest and rubbed at his thumping heart. Sweat covered his body, and he panted for air as if he’d been starved of it. Fire, he'd dreamed of fire. An opponent he couldn’t win against. He couldn’t reason with fire. He couldn’t fake innocence or confusion or wait for Maddox to arrive. Someone had burned down the house, to kill him, or Maddox, but he didn’t seem concerned for Jake. He had stared at the house as it crumbled but hadn’t called Jake to see how he was. A small flutter of hope had Jake patting for his phone. It diminished instantly when he saw there were still no messages.
Jake threw his head back down on the pillow and huffed.
Sleep didn’t return, and Jake was half-thankful. The fire was still on his mind and he didn’t want to dream of more flames or screams. He rolled out of bed, dressed, then stomped into the living room. He stood with the controller pointed and pressed his thumb down for a full minute before the TV turned on.
He forgot the last thing he watched had been the news, and when the floaty voices of kid’s TV didn’t fill the room, he turned sharply and stared at images of the ash littered street. He squinted, unable to see where one house ended and the other began. Maddox’s house was nothing but a smoking pile of rubble, and the banner across the bottom stated six dead, not the three of the night before. They suspected arson and had a number on screen for witnesses to come forward.
The thump to Jake’s door sounded thirty minutes later. He peered through the spy hole and sagged when he saw the man the other side. Tom played with his moustache and flared his nostrils as he waited.
“What do you want?” Jake asked.
Tom rolled his eyes and flung his head back. “Just open the door.”
Jake unlatched the lock, took a step back then folded his arms. “Well?”
“You need to pack.”
Jake frowned. “Pack for what?”
Tom pushed past and moved towards the bedroom. “Where’s your suitcase?”
Jake breathed deep and pushed out his chest. He blocked Tom’s path and lifted his chin.
“You haven’t told me why I’m packing.”
Tom huffed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make this an ordeal. The boss wants you to pack, and what the boss wants the boss gets.”
“What about what I want?”
Tom glared and curled his lip back. “What you want? The boss’s house has just gone up in flames, and you’re talking about what you want?”
Jake lowered his gaze and deflated to his usual size. “I’ll get a bin-bag.”
“Bin bag?”
“To pack some stuff.” Jake said over his shoulder.
Tom rubbed his chin and watched Jake shove his clothing into a bag. He didn’t have much variety to his wardrobe. Joggers, hoodies, and a few pairs of jeans.
Tom lifted a pair of skimpy underwear from his drawers. Pinched between his thumb and forefinger he held the lace at a distance and shook it.
“Never would’ve guessed…”
Jake growled and snatched them from his grip. He shoved them into the bin-bag to hide them from Tom’s smug face. He stomped into the bathroom, packed his toothbrush and toiletries, then joined Tom by the front door.
Tom whistled at his watch. “You do like to keep him waiting…”
Jake’s heart pounded with thoughts of Maddox. He swung the bag over his shoulder, barged Tom aside, and launched out of the door. Tom’s black Mercedes was mounted on the curb outside. Any attempt at composing himself had gone with the thought of Maddox waiting for him. He tapped the blacked-out window with his breath catching in his throat, but it didn’t lower, and the door didn’t open.
“Maddox?”
Tom snorted, and Jake turned to him wide-eyed and confused.
“Too easy, Jake.”
Jake bunched his hand into a fist and beat the window of the car. “You’re an asshole.”
Tom huffed and unlocked the door. “Get inside.”
Jake narrowed his eyes and didn’t move. “Make me.”
Tom’s face creased with anger, and his nostrils widened, then he suddenly relaxed and shook his head.
“Don’t—don’t complicate the situation. You wanna see the boss, get in.”
He was desperate to see Maddox and sagged against the car. “Fine.”
Jake climbed inside, threw his bag on the backseat then slid the belt across his lap. Tom studied him for a few seconds, then moved to the driver’s side and did the same. The car rumbled to life, and Tom drove them towards the main road. There was no sense of urgency or panic, Tom drummed his finger on the steering wheel, and whistled to himself.
“So, what happened to the house?”
Tom didn’t answer. He continued his overly happy whistle, and Jake clenched his teeth.
“Who set it on fire?” he growled.
Tom upgraded his whistled to a hum and banged the heel of his hand on the wheel.
“Were they trying to kill me?”
Tom clacked his tongue and bobbed his head. Jake grabbed the wheel with a growl, they swerved, and the car behind them beeped loud and hard.
“Are you fucking crazy?” Tom yelled, shoving Jake back.
“I just want to know what’s going on. Can you at least tell me wher
e you’re taking me?”
Tom drew his eyebrows together and exhaled harshly. “We’re going to catch a flight.”
“Airport? I don’t have my passport.”
Tom shook his head. “You don’t need one.”
“What about Maddox?”
Tom tapped his finger on the steering wheel. “The boss has already flown out.”
“But the house?”
Tom waved his hand. “The police are looking into it.”
Jake pursed his lips and bobbed his head. “Where is it we’re going, then?”
Tom grinned, the biggest grin Jake had ever seen on his stoic face. “Wait and see.”
Jake huffed and threw his weight back into his chair. He folded his arms and glared out the window at the blandest stretch of road he had ever seen.
Chapter 4
Jake stared at the private jet with his jaw hanging, and his eyes straining. It was alone on a mass of concrete. Not an airport, but what looked like an abandoned runway.
If it had been Maddox beside him, he would’ve been giddy in his seat, unable to sit still and grinning like a moron, but it wasn’t, it was Tom sat beside him, pursing his top lip to twitch his moustache.
“You want me to get on that?”
Tom rubbed his hairy top lip and shook his head. “No, the boss wants you to get on that. Or your master. I don’t know what you call him behind closed doors.”
“I call him Maddox. I’m not afraid to use his name.”
“I don’t call him boss out of fear, it’s out of respect. It’s his title. Now come on,” Tom said, unclipping his belt.
Jake waited a few seconds, then climbed out the car. Tom buttoned his blazer as he walked towards the jet. He flicked his head at the open door, and Jake jumped up the four steps to get inside. A small laugh escaped him when he saw the interior. Nothing like the cramped aeroplanes he had seen in the movies. The décor wasn’t bland, the seats weren’t grey, and there were no shelves for overhead storage.
The chairs were huge and spaced out. Black leather with white detail. The glass coffee table shone, the massive TV rivalled the one that had been in Maddox’s house. Jake dropped his gaze to the plush white carpet. He scrunched his feet anticipating walking across it bare foot.
“Shoes off.”
He startled forward at Tom’s voice, catching himself on the door frame. The pain didn’t register. His jaw hung open, and he gestured to the chairs, the table, the black chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
“This is crazy.” Jake gasped.
“The boss likes what he likes.”
Jake nodded, then slipped off his worn trainers. Tom narrowed his eyes at Jake’s feet.
“Do you not own matching socks?”
“They both fit, that’s enough of a match for me.”
“There’s a hole in one.”
Jake wriggled his big toe, then shrugged. “Getting some air.”
Tom brushed past and sat on one of the monstrous chairs. He leaned back and propped his feet on the coffee table.
“So, where we going?” Jake asked.
Tom closed his eyes, exhaled, then shook his head.
“For how long?”
Tom answered with his eyes shut. “That’s not my call, it’s the boss's.”
“What about my work?”
Tom sighed through his nose. “Carl’s sorting it.”
Jake scrunched his face. “What does that mean?”
Tom smiled. “He’s gunna phone your boss and say you’ve both got the shits. Carl can be quite descriptive when he wants to be.”
Jake ventured a step further into the plane.
“I wish Maddox sent Carl to get me,” he mumbled.
“He’s with the boss.”
Jake bit the inside of his cheek and exhaled forcefully through his nose. He pushed the mild annoyance out of his mind and strolled through the jet. Behind the door at the end was a huge double bed, soft and inviting. He chuckled at the thought of joining the mile-high club with Maddox. On the way back home for sure.
His eyes rolled back in his head when the mattress sunk down with his weight. The sheets were crisp, and Jake crawled up the bed before diving under the duvet. It didn’t hold Maddox's scent, but it did smell clean, and it was soft against his skin.
“You gotta be seated for the take off.”
Jake huffed and stopped rolling around on the mattress. He stalked out with the duvet wrapped around him and threw himself in the chair furthest from Tom.
Tom cracked one eye open, then shuffled further into the chair. “You’re so gullible…”
“Gullible? Why?”
“You don’t have to be seated on a private jet, you idiot.”
Jake huffed, and got to his feet. The plane rumbled, and he dropped back down.
“Is it hot…or cold?”
“Hot.” Tom said immediately.
“Crowded or secluded?”
Tom hummed and cracked an eye open. “Secluded. Enough with the guessing games. I promise you its sunnier than here.”
Jake turned to stare out the window. Nothing but grey concrete, and dreary grey sky. He didn’t care where they were going, the plane could’ve flew them to the Antarctic and Jake would’ve been happy, so long as Maddox was there to greet him.
Chapter 5
No glossy magazine could do the island justice. The plush carpet of the jet was inferior to the blanket of sand. Jake kneeled and grabbed a handful. He opened his fingers a fraction, and the soft grains passed through. All perfectly even, not gold in colour, but gentler, a beige on the brink of white. The blue sky stretched over him, free of any wisps of cloud and the green palm trees were vibrant and still, with the lack of breeze. The first thing Jake did once he stopped leaning over the jetty was slip off his shoes and slung them in his bin-bag. He gasped at the first touch of sand between his toes.
Jake turned to Tom in amazement. “This place…it’s unreal.”
Tom sneered, then unhooked the sunglasses from his top pocket. “It’s very real, as was you throwing up on the way here…”
Jake shrugged. The lingering rawness in the back of his throat was worth it when he could see how much it irritated Tom. The flight hadn’t been so bad, twelve hours to get to the airport, a taxi ride to the shore, then two hours on a speedboat.
“First time on a boat, how was I supposed to know I get sea sick?”
Tom shook his head, then gripped the bottom of his shirt. “You could’ve aimed overboard.”
“I think the ocean got the brunt of it.” Jake muttered.
“Come on, I wanna change. Let’s go to the villa.”
Jake stood, and tugged his bin-bag of goods over his shoulder. The sickness in his gut left him when he thought of Maddox waiting for him.
The villa didn’t have the dominating feel Jake expected. It was set back from the ocean, raised on wooden stilts with a thatched roof. Rather than the black and white décor Jake was familiar with, the wooden slats that made the walls were exposed, the polished wood of the floor shone, but not to the point it reflected his face. No white tiles, or bland paintings, the villa had more windows than Jake could count, and its skeleton was completely exposed. Not a beam was covered, and Jake greedily breathed in the scent of wood. He ran his hand along the grand table and the carved benches in awe.
“He never told me about this.” Jake muttered.
Tom snorted. “Why would he?”
Jake stopped stroking the bench and grimaced at the floor.
“Oi!”
He turned to Tom, only just catching the bottle of sun cream thrown his way.
“Don’t ask me to rub it on you.”
Jake scrunched his face and shuddered. “Not even in my nightmares.”
Tom snorted, then scratched his moustache. “Anyway. I’m going to get changed. The kitchen’s stocked up, eat, drink, do as you please.”
Jake frowned, and spun around to face Tom. “Where is he, then?”
Tom flicked his chin ou
t to the door at the far end of the villa. “Probably in there; boss gets bad jet lag.”
Jake licked his lips, then swallowed. He stepped cautiously, overly aware of the creaking floorboards under foot, then edged the door open. The huge bed was made, but there was no one lying in it.
Tom burst out laughing, and Jake spun around to face him.
“The boss isn’t here.”
A croak escaped Jake’s throat, and he shook his head. “He—he sent me away.”
“While he sorts out the mess. Said he didn’t want any complications.”
Jake breathed deep through his nose and exhaled the breath shakily. “Complications.”
“His words not mine.”
“So where is he now?”
Tom huffed. “Last time I saw him he was at his house. Waiting for them to retrieve his safe.”
“Safe?”
Tom tilted his head back and cursed. “Yes, his safe. Keeps the diamond in it.”
“Diamond.” Jake whispered.
“Stop being an echo.” Tom growled, flexing his hands.
“That diamond's more important than me.”
“Thought you knew that. Only three in the world and he owns them all. You, on the other hand. There are loads of irritating guys that crave attention. You’re disposable. He’s sending you away so you don’t complicate matters or try to get involved. That’s above your station.”
“My station?”
“What did I say about being an echo!” Tom growled and flashed his teeth.
Jake shook his head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Tom sighed and closed his eyes in an extended blink. “You irritate me, and if you weren’t involved with the boss I would’ve punched you in the face, but sometimes I do pity you. You’re young, and naïve.”
“And you’re old and a prick.”
Tom clacked his tongue loudly, then shook his head.
“You are the boss's plaything. That is your purpose, to entertain him. He isn’t going to share his secrets with you or involve you in his work. If that’s where you think this will lead, then you're dreaming.”
A coil tightened around Jake’s gut and he curled forward, bracing his hands on his knees. He felt Tom’s eyes boring into him but couldn’t connect their gazes.
Fire and Sand Page 3
