Strays

by Garrett Leigh

  God, I’m tired. But they all were, even Tom, usually so unflappable and cool. “How are you going to prepare the calzones if the grate trays don’t arrive in time?”

  Nero shrugged. “Have to buy some from the wholesalers up the road, won’t we?”

  Tom’s jaw twitched. “Why didn’t we do that in the first place? I don’t understand how we’ve ended up panic-ordering equipment two days before opening.”

  “Because we didn’t know the ovens would be too hot to cook calzones on the stone. They take longer than pizzas so they’re burning on the bottom, and it ain’t like we can turn the stone down, is it?”

  “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  “No, but you told us not to buy stuff from the cowboys up the road, so what do you want me to do?”

  “Nero—”

  “Tom.” Cass stepped in, perhaps knowing Nero’s short fuse well enough to be cautious, except he was wrong this time. Lenny had obliterated Nero’s fiery temper to the point where now, Nero simply turned away from Tom’s irritation and scooped another pizza out of the oven. Who cared if they couldn’t serve calzones on opening night? They had plenty of other good shit to sell.

  He tuned the conversation out, letting Cass uncharacteristically play the role of pacifier, and his thoughts drifted to the pinky-blond bombshell he’d kissed good-bye at Shepherd’s Bush tube station at the arse crack of dawn that morning. Lenny wasn’t, and would never be, a morning person, but his sleep-addled smile had been on Nero’s mind ever since. That, and the toe-curling fuck they’d managed to squeeze in before work. Nero had never been much into anal sex with women, and the yearning to have Lenny inside him still made his head spin—even if it conversely terrified him enough for Lenny to be scared of it too—but fucking Lenny was something else; the way he moved, the sounds he made, the way his body clamped so tight around Nero’s dick it felt like he’d never let go.

  And Nero didn’t want him to let go. Falling in love with Lenny had taken him by surprise, though he’d known it long before he’d said it aloud, but he was lost in him now, and could hardly imagine the time when running from him had seemed the safer option.

  “You’re different,” Cass had said to him just a few days ago. And he was right. Happy wasn’t a place Nero believed was for him, but with Lenny sharing the load of his demons, he was as close as he’d ever been. He felt alive instead of lost in the constant search for oblivion.

  Didn’t stop him worrying that Lenny saw him as some kind of psycho, though. And if he did, was he wrong? Most days, Nero didn’t think so, and despite his good mood and temper, four hours of grafting over a hot pizza oven was beginning to fray his tired nerves, like the heat penetrated his soul with every scrape of metal on stone. Baring his soul to Lenny, it seemed, wasn’t a miracle cure.

  He handed the reins to his newly appointed sous chef and went outside for a smoke. His craving for peace and quiet was almost as strong as the one for nicotine, and he was in his own world when Tom made him jump a little while later.

  “Sorry for being ornery,” Tom said. “I’m just a bit fraught. I’ve never known so many stupid things to go wrong on a project. It’s usually the people I have to worry about, not a shortage of teaspoons.”

  “You’re complaining about not having to fret about some lunatic band of idiots wrecking your baby?”

  “Pretty much. I left the employment to Cass this time around, and he’s somehow managed to pull together the tightest new team we’ve ever had.”

  In spite of his initial misplaced pessimism, Nero couldn’t argue with that. If the TST kitchen team lived up to his expectations, his new role would be a piece of piss, which felt slightly too good to be true.

  Like he’d heard Nero’s thoughts, Tom leaned on the railing and gazed out over the waterside dining area. “I suppose I’m just waiting for the real hammer to fall.”

  “Why? Don’t worry about shit till it happens, mate. Makes you old.”

  Tom sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Have you heard from Lenny today? Jake hasn’t checked in for a while.”

  It was Nero’s habit to fob Tom off any chance he got, but the infinitesimal edge to the question made him look up. “He messaged me a while ago. Said they were still in Stockwell sorting the glass delivery. Why? Something wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Really? ’Cause you look like a bulldog chewing a wasp.”

  “And you sound like Cass when he’s not getting any.” Tom’s frown turned droll. “Seriously, though. I like that Jake has Lenny with him. All the running around he does gets on top of him sometimes. It’s hard not to worry that we won’t be there when he needs us most.”

  Nero’s habitual sarcasm died a death as Tom’s words hit home. Tom and Cass adored Jake as much as they did each other, but Jake wasn’t like them. His TS left him vulnerable in a way Nero would never truly understand, and he could hardly bear to imagine how tough it was for Cass and Tom who loved him so much. Pain lanced Nero’s chest as he recalled the day Lenny had finally forced himself to leave the flat, and then every day after for weeks and weeks when he’d jumped at every little sound. It seemed to be all behind him now, but Nero couldn’t forget the terror in his eyes. Wouldn’t ever forget it. He pulled his phone from his pocket and waved it at Tom. “Save me getting my knickers in a twist too, eh?”

  He called Lenny, trying not to melt under Tom’s watchful gaze as Lenny answered with a giggle. “Where you at?”

  “Just got off the Tube. Be there in five.”

  “Hurry up,” Nero said. “Tom’s twitching for Jake, and . . . I miss you.”

  “Me? Or the twenty fags I’ve got in my pocket, ’cause I know you’ll have smoked yours by now.”

  “You’re all heart.”

  “Not really, but what I have is yours.”

  Nero turned away from Tom as heat flooded his cheeks. Would he ever get used to the certainty in Lenny’s voice when he said shit like that? He hoped not, because all the rum in the world didn’t carry a buzz quite like the one that came with loving Lenny. “Just get your arse here.”

  He hung up and faced the music. Tom was grinning a grin that would’ve looked more at home on Cass. “All these years, I had no idea.”

  “No idea about what?”

  “That you swung a little our way. Cass kept it from me until recently—for your sake, I think. And he was right. You weren’t ready for Lenny before now.”

  “You read that on the back of a cereal box?”

  Tom chuckled. “Maybe. Regardless, I’m pleased for you, Nero. You deserve to be happy, even if you think you don’t.”

  Nero had never been sure how much Tom knew of his history, but in that moment it was obvious he knew it all. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve.”

  “No, Nero, I don’t, which is a shame, because I reckon it’s a hell of a lot more than you’ll ever give yourself. Now, shall we end this conversation before you lamp me one? I have enough to do without getting decked.”

  Nero was saved from having to formulate a response by sinuous arms winding around him from behind. Tom forgotten, Nero spun and lifted Lenny clean from the ground in a crushing bear hug. “Don’t ever leave me again.”

  “Are you being serious, or dying for a smoke?”

  Lenny’s voice was muffled against Nero’s chest. Nero loosened his grip a little and let him breathe. “I don’t give a fuck about your packet of fags. Got me own earlier.”

  “You’re serious, then?”

  “Deadly.”

  Lenny’s answering smile was dazzling. “I had great day, if it’s any consolation. Jake’s taught me loads of cool digital-art stuff. He’s going to help me finish all of the menus and marketing stuff later so we can get an overnight order to the printers. It’s going to be tight, but if I get it done we’ll be laughing.”

  The spark in Lenny’s half-manic gaze was infectious. In projects gone by, any enthusiasm Nero might have had at the beginning was long gone by this stage, eclipsed by exhaustio
n. But Lenny had changed all that—changed Nero—and the imminent opening truly felt like the fresh start they both needed, perhaps even deserved. “Are you coming home tonight?”

  “Are you?”

  Nero eyed the chaos of the restaurant’s section of the kitchen and considered if he had time to hoof it back to Pippa’s. “Doubt it. Efe’s coming in early to talk me through the changes she’s made to the bread menu, but I don’t think I’ll be ready for her until gone midnight. Too much to do.”

  Lenny’s face fell. Despite starting the week with a bang—literally—they’d only made it home to the same bed two nights since—Lenny kipping with Jake at the Hampstead flat Urban Soul had finally bought last year, and Nero forgoing any sleep at all as he and Cass worked through the night to get the kitchen properly set up. “You’ll be home in the morning, though, right? You need to sleep, or you’ll make yourself sick again.”

  Nero refrained from rolling his eyes and instead focused on the distraction of Lenny’s sinful fingers dancing a path up and down his spine. “Trust me, I’m sleeping all day tomorrow. Cass has banned me from every site until the evening.”

  “Well, I’m banning you too, just in case you’re thinking of not listening to him, and I’ve already told Steph not to bother you.”

  “She still getting on Jimbo’s case?”

  “Yup. Debs says they hate each other, which means they’re probably shagging, right?”

  “They’ve managed not to as long as I’ve known them, and I ain’t never hated you.”

  Lenny’s grin turned wicked. “Good, ’cause you fuck me well enough as it is. Don’t think I could handle you angry.” He checked his phone. “Shit, I’ve got to go.”

  Nero grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. You’re staying with Jake, though, right? I don’t want you wandering around by yourself later.”

  “Later? Jesus, Nero, I wandered around London on my own just fine my whole life until—well, you know. But that’s done with now. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.”

  “Humour me.”

  “Okay, okay. If we’re not done by midnight, I’ll stay with Jake again.”

  “Make it eleven.”

  Lenny huffed. “Okay, but only because you’re fit as fuck when you go all daddy-bear on me.”

  Daddy-bear? Fuck that. But Nero didn’t argue—how could he when Lenny put his hands on his chest and kissed the shit out of him? How could he do anything but kiss him back and growl gruff words of love he’d never uttered to another soul?

  Then Lenny left. Nero watched him go, weaving through the restaurant, guiding Jake, who seemed to be having trouble keeping his often-wayward arms in check. Letting Lenny leave his side was always hard, but for some reason today it hurt more than usual, like they were parting for months, instead of a night that would pass in a flash of industrial pans of artisan bread dough. Nero raised his hand to his chest, like he could push the piece of his heart Lenny had taken with him back in.

  But it was no good. Being without Lenny was torture, and the only way to survive it was to work like a dog until it was over.

  It was past dawn the following morning when Nero drifted home under a cloud of flour and fatigue. He let himself into the flat, half-hoping to find Lenny in bed. Disappointment warred with relief when he found the sheets unslept in. Lenny had, for once, done as he was told and stayed with Jake, but Christ, Nero missed him.

  A shower and an abandoned cuppa followed, and Nero fell asleep to the sound of the bin lorries rumbling up and down the streets below. He woke sometime later to a still-empty bed, a pounding heart, and a blank phone. Shit. Groggy, he stumbled up and plugged it into the wall. He shivered as a cool breeze filtered through the open windows, but the goose bumps tingling his naked flesh remained as he returned to bed, and under the covers, he couldn’t get warm. A hot shower was tempting, but his body was too weary to move, and he drifted back to sleep with an odd air of foreboding colouring his dreams.

  Not that he remembered his dreams when he finally woke up at midday, and he took that to be a good thing. Sleeping beside Lenny every night had driven away some of his demons, but they often came back when he was alone—when they sensed weakness in the void Lenny had left behind. Not today, though. Today, Nero stepped into the shower with a smile, and his mind a long way from the treacherous path he’d taken to get to a place where the mere thought of a man had him grinning like a pig in shit.

  Brutal banging on the front door broke into his Lenny-themed daze. Nero frowned and peered around the shower curtain, like he imagined he could see through walls. Idiot. He waited a moment to see if whichever fucktard it was from downstairs took the hint, but the banging continued until he got to the door, cursing and a towel around his waist. “What the—”

  Cass burst into the flat, eyes wild. “Have the old bill been here?”

  Nero flinched. “What?”

  “Fuck, Nero, we’ve been calling and calling you, and the bar downstairs. The coppers. Did they find you?”

  “Find me? Why would they be looking for me?”

  “Tom sent them. Nero, something’s happened to Lenny. I don’t know what, or where, just that the police found Tom at the office and sent him to the Royal Free Hospital. His phone cut out halfway through his message, but he said he’d sent the coppers here to find you.”

  Nero’s heart stopped. He shot back to the bedroom and wrenched his phone free from the charger. Blood roaring in his ears, he swiped at the screen and called Lenny, even as Cass followed him into the bedroom and told him there was no point.

  “It’s dead, mate, and he don’t have voice mail, does he?” Cass said.

  A legacy of Lenny’s attempt to disappear. Fuck. Nero fought the urge to hurl his phone at the wall. “What about Jake? Have you called him?”

  “Course I have. He said Lenny left this morning to come back to you, so whatever’s gone down happened between here and there.”

  “Shit.” Nero grabbed his jeans from the floor and yanked them up his legs. “Tom’s phone’s dead too?”

  “Yup. He just said to find you and get you to the hospital. I’m so fucking sorry, mate. I don’t know anything else.”

  Nero whirled around the room, searching for a T-shirt. “It’s that fucking bloke, I know it is.”

  Cass’s silence spoke volumes. Nero flew at him. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Whoa.” Cass coughed as his back hit the wall, driving the breath from his lungs. “Nero, take it easy. You ain’t no good to anyone if you lose your shit.”

  “Tell me.”

  Cass winced. “I’m trying. Let me go so I can breathe, will ya?”

  Nero released Cass, breathing hard enough for the both of them. “I can see in your eyes it ain’t good.”

  “Before he got cut off, Tom said that Gareth Harvey got bail a week ago. The coppers were supposed to warn Lenny, but it slipped through the net. And . . .”

  “Cass.”

  “They lost track of him. He’s been AWOL for three days.”

  Gareth Harvey. Finally, a name, but it meant nothing as Nero’s legs gave way. He sank onto the bed beside him and pressed his fists against his eyes, trying to contain his worst nightmare as it galloped off, taking with it every good dream he’d ever had. “He’s got him, hasn’t he? He’s fucking got him.”

  “We don’t know that.” Cass dropped down in front of Nero, his hands on Nero’s knees. “The two things might not be connected. Tom didn’t say they were.”

  “But he got cut off.”

  “Yes, but . . .” Cass’s voice fell away.

  Nero stared hard at him, searching for something, anything to ground him, but he found nothing but concern and worry that seemed to have rendered him immobile.

  “Nero.” Cass grasped Nero’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Listen to me, we don’t know nothing for certain. Lenny coulda tripped on the Tube and got himself a little bump like Jake did last year, or punched a copper . . . anything. We don’t know shit until we get to tha
t hospital, so let’s go.”

  Cass’s attempt at reassurance fell flat, but two words punctured the panicked haze Nero was drowning in: let’s go.

  He lurched up and grabbed a T-shirt, then followed Cass to the front door, pausing only long enough to stamp into his shoes. Outside, they dashed across the street to where Cass’s car was parked on a double yellow line. A parking warden was filling out a ticket. Cass blew past her and jumped in the car, peeling away as she pointed her camera at his number plate.

  The journey north to Hampstead was a car ride Nero couldn’t describe. Cass drove like the retired joyrider he was, swerving in and out of the dense London traffic, but even with his best efforts, he couldn’t avoid the gridlock on Pond Street, the road leading up to the hospital.

  He swung into a bus stop, ignoring the rage of a black cab behind him. “Go. Run. You’ll get there quicker on foot.”

  Nero was already halfway out the car. He left the door open and sprinted up the road, shoulder barging anyone who got in his way. The Royal Free wasn’t a hospital he knew, and as he charged towards the main entrance he realised he had no idea where to go. A&E? The fucking morgue?

  He burst through the revolving door, searching for Tom’s sandy-blond hair, and any sign of the police. At first glance, he found nothing, and the panic already crippling him increased to the point where he could hardly breathe. White dots danced in front of his eyes. He spun around again and again, until finally he focused enough to see a reception desk.

  The woman behind the desk was staring at him like he’d fallen from Mars. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Lenny Mitchell. Is he okay?”

  “I can’t tell you that until you tell me who you are.”

  “Nero Fierro.”

  The woman nodded and searched her chaotic work station. “There is a message here somewhere . . .”

  Nero balled his hands into fists. “Is he okay?”

  A phone rang. “Just a moment, sir—”

  The woman started talking into the receiver attached to her head. Nero wanted to rip it from her and throw it at the wall.

  “Please. You have to tell me if he’s okay.”