Crazy Bastard

by Angelique Voisen

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2018 Angelique Voisen

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-548-7

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: M. Allison Lea

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CRAZY BASTARD

  Angelique Voisen

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  Ty Rigg’s cell phone alarm vibrated on the bathroom counter, making him curse. Ty looked at himself in the mirror, slicked up his hair with some gel, and looped his tie again. Dammit, it’d be the third time this week he’d be late for the dinner shift. Ty overslept again, despite the three alarms he set. Even after six months, he still hadn’t gotten used to juggling two jobs. Mike McAllister, the night manager, could be an asshole when it came to tardiness, too.

  He finished with the tie and put on the vest that was part of his uniform. His phone beeped again. Cursing under his breath, Ty grabbed his phone and exited the bathroom. Since he rented a tiny studio apartment, it was only a few steps between bathroom, bedroom, living room and dining area. On his way to the kitchen, his cats Cereal and Milk came out of whatever nook they chose to hide in during the day. Cereal purred at him, while Milk circled his ankles, tail swishing back and forth.

  “Right, sorry guys.”

  Both cats gave him indignant looks. He stopped by the kitchen, opened cans of cat food for them, and set the bowls on the floor, along with water. When he petted Cereal’s ears, she mewled at him. She was easy to please like always, but Milk hissed at him when he tried to do the same thing.

  Ty sighed. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  He put on his shoes, tucked his wallet and keys in his back pocket, and yanked open the front door—only to bump into his least favorite person in the world.

  Mr. “Never-Call-Me-Keith” Graham, the forty-five-year-old landlord, leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. Saying nothing, he extended a hand, opened it palm up. The message was clear. Ty paid last month’s rent late, and had asked Mr. Graham for three days’ extension this time around. Ty had hoped he could slip out without Mr. Graham's notice

  “Look, I’m getting paid today,” he began, but Mr. Graham used his big body to block his way. Ty’s phone rang, but he ignored it. Mr. Graham glowered at him, looking ready to snatch his phone away.

  Dammit. Ty didn’t need this. Mike had already gave him one warning, and today was a Friday night, the busiest time for the restaurant.

  Finally, Mr. Graham spoke. “Look, Ty. I get it. You’re barely making ends meet. So are thousands of other guys out there, young men who came from the small towns to the big city looking for work. I need to eat, too.”

  Guilt rammed into Ty. He’d been to Mr. Graham’s apartment once, when he’d been interviewing potential clients for his current apartment. From what little Ty had gathered, Graham used to be in the military. The buff, grinning man in uniform with a headful of hair and an arm around a smiling blonde looked like a completely different person from the same beer-bellied man who knocked on his door every month.

  When Ty had asked about the girl in the picture, Mr. Graham had gone all quiet, and Ty realized he’d made a terrible mistake, wished he’d minded his own business instead.

  “Gone,” Graham had said after such a long pause that Ty had almost given up on renting the studio.

  Some things were too painful to talk about, Ty understood that better than anyone else. For the first time since he’d moved to the city to escape the past, he’d felt a kinship with a stranger, one who understood grief as much as he did.

  “Tonight,” Ty said. “I promise to deliver the rent money by tonight. Hell, if you’re out, I’ll slip it under your door.”

  Mr. Graham considered him for a few moments, then sighed. “Fine, but next month, you better pay on time.”

  “I will.”

  Mr. Graham retreated to his apartment, and Ty sprinted to the elevator.

  Once on the first floor, he walked to where his scooter was parked. He grabbed his helmet, then mounted the old girl. The Vespa had belonged to his mom, his only memento of her. Even if repairs cost more than getting a second-hand car, he’d keep riding it until it completely broke down.

  Ty arrived at the restaurant within the span of thirty minutes. He checked his phone, gaze lingering on the date. He’d been so worried about the rent and being late, he’d nearly forgotten it was that special time of the month again.

  Perhaps, he mused, tonight wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Even Mike yelling at him right after he stepped foot in the restaurant didn’t sour his mood one bit.

  Tonight, Ty thought, he’d finally make his move.

  ****

  “Every time that guy comes here, Mike will try to convince the crazy fucker to take a solo table,” murmured Trisha, one of the waitresses, to Jon, one of their new part-timers. “Mike always fails.”

  “This the same weirdo everyone’s talking about?” Jon asked.

  Ty knew he shouldn’t be paying the gossip queen any attention. He gritted his teeth. Her comment pissed him off.

  “Two fish and chips,” said Raul from behind the kitchen window, sliding two plates in front of him.

  Ty checked the table number, his heart in his throat when he realized who ordered the dishes. Of course. Vance Carr always ordered fish and chips and two glasses of red wine. Then, black coffee, no sugar, and tiramisu after. Ty didn’t need to take down the orders, not when he knew them by heart. Vance also reserved the same window table each time, and sat on the left, not the right.

  Every third Friday of the month, Vance Carr returned to the Lakeside restaurant and observed a ritual none of them quite understood, not even Ty.

  He only found out Vance’s name two months ago, when he’d begged Ryan, the waiter in charge of that section, to let him take the check. When he’d returned to the cash register, his hands had trembled as he flipped the American Express over to see Vance’s name.

  “That for table eighteen, Ty? Jon will bring the food,” Trisha said, suddenly by his side. “He wants to take a good look at our local celebrity freak.”

  “Pity the guy’s mental, he’s pretty good-looking,” Jon commented.

  Freak. Mental. Fuck, but he hated the nicknames the wait staff assigned Vance. Ty understood the beef between Mike and Vance. Apparently, Mike once asked Vance out but got rejected. Mike then resorted to being petty and started telling the other staff untrue rumors about Vance, painting him as some kind of asshole.

  “No, I’ll do it,” Ty snapped.

  Trisha blinked wide blue eyes at him. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but Trisha and the others should’ve just minded their own business. The guy at table eighteen meant no one any harm. Hell, he even tipped well.

  The way Mike tried to convince the guy to take a table for one, not two, or the way the others had a ball of a time making fun of some stranger they knew absolutely nothing about—it all made him mad for some reason.

  Jon sniggered. “Someone woke up in a bad mood. Why, Ty? Your latest boyfriend broke up with you?”

  Ty never bothered hiding his preferences. He got out of Rock Valley for that reason, promised his mom before she passed away that he’d find a place where he didn’t need to hide his real self anymore.

  “That’s none of yo
ur business,” he said with a scowl.

  Trisha rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  The pair fortunately had to separate when Mike came towards their little group and asked, “What’s the hold up?”

  Ty placed the two plates on a tray and carried it towards table eighteen. Despite the busy atmosphere, Ty took his time getting there, savoring the sight of his crush. Like the six times before when Vance Carr had eaten at the Lakeside, tonight he was dressed up in a crisp suit that looked tailor-made for him. He wore his black hair short and neat, gray eyes focused on the space in front of him.

  Maybe he’s dining with the invisible man, someone had once remarked, and the joke somehow stuck.

  Vance’s lips never moved the entire time. Maybe he had the conversation in his head. Ty wouldn’t know, just like he’d never presumed to know what Vance’s deal was.

  “Good evening, sir. Are you expecting another diner to join you?” he asked.

  Vance’s iron-gray eyes flickered to him. Ty swallowed. Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned a companion. Vance said nothing.

  Ty cleared his throat. “Two fish and chips.” He blushed. His entire face must be beet-red by now. He managed to set one plate down, but his hand trembled with the second.

  “Are you all right?” Vance asked.

  Sweat rolled down his back. He’d never heard Vance speak. Even when asking for the check, Vance merely gestured. A big, warm hand brushed over his, the touch electric. Ty yanked his hand away, making the heavy plate clatter on the table.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m always clumsy.”

  “Are you? Didn’t seem that way the last time.”

  The last time? Vance noticed him? For real?

  Ty had somehow inherited the magical ability to be unnoticeable most of the time. Boring and mediocre had been a few of the adjectives his dates described. Some assholes made the effort to type out the exact words on his Grindr profile. His last ex even wanted to turn off the lights so he could imagine he was fucking someone else other than Ty.

  “I’m nervous. I didn’t mean to offend you by mentioning the word ‘companion’.” Ty silently cursed himself as Vance regarded him for what seemed like a long time. He should have just kept this mouth shut. Ty began to excuse himself, but Mike appeared at the table.

  “Is there a problem here?” Mike asked.

  Once, a waiter suggested to Mike during a particularly busy Friday night to bring in security, but Vance was harmless, didn’t break any rules. Besides, Ty overheard a rumor that Vance was one of the richest men in the city, had some important friends. That was the thing about gossip. It traveled and twisted until the facts became unrecognizable.

  “Not at all. I was merely asking Ty here about the specials.”

  Vance knew his name. Ty’s heart pounded so hard, it felt like it would burst out of his chest.

  What specials? Vance never deviated from his orders. It took him a second to realize Vance lied for his sake. His mind really didn’t work properly at the moment.

  Mike gave him a suspicious look, then told Vance, “Enjoy the rest of your dinner, sir.”

  “I’m surprised your colleague didn’t try to persuade me to move to a smaller table to make room for the other customers,” Vance said, tone dry.

  Ty pressed the tray to his chest. “Mike’s not my friend. He’s kind of a hardass.”

  Vance’s unexpected laugh caught him off guard. It sounded so carefree, and Vance didn’t seem like the kind of guy who laughed easily.

  “I like you, Ty. You’re not like your other coworkers, who think I’m having a date with the invisible man.”

  Ty blushed even deeper. “You know about that?”

  “I might be crazy, but I’m not deaf.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy,” he blurted.

  The elderly couple dining at the next table gave him curious looks, and he lowered his voice.

  “I mean,” he went on, voice trembling. He didn’t know when he could speak to Vance like this again. Maybe next month, or never. “Sometimes, we all do certain things that others would find strange for a reason. People should just mind their own damn business.”

  “And what are some of the strange things you do, Ty?”

  “Well,” he began. “I collect stray cats and bring them home.” That got him an eyebrow-raise from Vance.

  “Yeah. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. My mom always got so mad. See, we used to live in a trailer, and—” Ty paused when he saw Mike from the corner of his eye, gesturing to the customers lining at the front door. “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

  Vance touched his arm and he sucked in a breath, aware of how big and warm Vance's fingers felt. “You still owe me the rest of the story.”

  Ty flushed, pinching himself to make sure he heard those words right. The pain confirmed this was real. Flashing Vance what he hoped was a flirty smile, he left to serve other customers.

  Chapter Two

  Vance watched the cute waiter from the corner of his eye. He ate his last piece of fish, chewed on the rest of his fries slowly, like he had all the time in the world. The first time he’d eaten here, he recalled refusing the manager when the guy asked him out. Since then, the manager and his staff seemed to have put him on some kind of customer hate-list. Completely unprofessional, but then again, he kept returning here.

  When a man waded into the pool of deepest despair, small things like social etiquette flew out the window a long time ago. This kid, though—no, he couldn’t call Ty that; this young man—never once commented on his strange practice. Vance once even overheard Ty defending him, of all things.

  Funny. After Malik passed away, Vance shut off the unnecessary noises around him. He’d learned to live in a world of numbness, because it seemed like a better alternative than living with grief.

  Some wounds of the heart could never heal, he understood that better than many. When Ty returned with the two plates of tiramisu, his world sharpened into focus, narrowing around the young man who never failed to give him a brilliant smile each time he came here.

  “Here’s your cake. Coffee will be served in a few minutes, the machine’s clogged up,” Ty said, looking embarrassed.

  Adorable, Vance mused. Hints of color appeared on Ty’s cheeks and neck. Expressive, sensitive young man. Vance wondered how Ty would react, if he closed his mouth over that tempting curve of flesh that connected shoulder and neck. Place a kiss there. Better yet, a bite. Would Ty shudder for him? Fist his shirt and look at him with those big, delightful, brown eyes?

  Vance shut the image down. Fuck. What was wrong with him, thinking about another man so soon?

  “You’re not supposed to say that, about the coffee,” he remarked, realizing Ty continued to hover.

  “Right.” Ty snuck a glance at the empty seat across from him, at the uneaten plate. “Shall I have this wrapped up?”

  Ty knew what to do, didn’t bother asking him if anything was wrong with the food. Good. Vance hated repeating himself. “Yes, thank you.”

  Ty reached for the plate.

  “Contrary to what some of your colleagues think, I don’t actually believe I’m dining with a made-up person or a ghost. Well, maybe the latter is a little true.”

  Ty squeaked, nearly dropped the plate, but Vance caught it before the ceramic shattered and food scattered on the floor. Vance had experienced poverty before and didn’t want to waste food.

  “Thanks,” Ty said, sounding shaky.

  Vance didn’t know why he broke his usual pattern. Some rituals had to be observed to keep his sanity intact, but he made Ty an exception. Ty. He only knew this guy’s first name, thanks to his name tag, and Ty knew his name because of his credit card. Vance knew, because on his way to the men’s room once, he’d caught Ty holding out his card, studying not the numbers but his name. Ty hd run a finger over his embossed name a few times and a chill, the dangerous sort, had run down Vance’s spine.

  What would it be like to have Ty run those
fingers down his bare skin?

  A strange emotion started brewing inside him after that visit, one he couldn’t name until now. Longing surged through him, painful and jagged spikes. It had been too long since anyone caught his interest. Since anyone touched him. Malik once accused him of being the forever kind of guy, a stubborn asshole who couldn’t see beyond him, only what stood in front of him. In the end, that trait had become his undoing.

  Vance had held on so tightly to the one thing he valued most, and the moment he’d lost his possession, he was no better than a barnacle attached to a sinking ship.

  “Um. Why share that with me?” Ty paused. “I mean, I appreciate it.”

  “Maybe because you’re different.” Vance shrugged.

  Those who worked for him often thought him indifferent, cold, his exterior an impenetrable wall of steel. If they only knew the truth. Vance was a contained bomb, waiting to explode at the right moment.

  The lights in the restaurant seemed too bright, the conversations all around them a roar of noise. The sudden sensations nearly overwhelmed him. He shove a hand into the pocket of his trousers, touched the cool metal of his cigarette lighter, rubbed the engraving there. Calm filled him for a moment.

  He needed to cut tonight’s ritual short. A pity, given his semi-breakthrough with Ty. Doubts swirled inside his mind. What if Ty no longer worked here next month? What if he could never see Ty again?

  Being around Ty felt like being close to the sun, blinding and stunning. Did he dare come any closer?

  Something had to give. His therapist kept pushing him to break away from his usual routine, pursue the unconventional, but following a monotonous schedule kept him anchored to reality, distracted his mind from the truth he still could not face, the grief and sorrow he kept under lock and key.

  “I get off at eleven,” Ty muttered those words in a rush that he had trouble catching the syllables.