Chapter 3-2
1219 Words
Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting at the bench by the bus stop, fiddling with his phone, trying to figure out how to buy an electronic ticket because he’d left his coat in the office, which had his bus pass, his wallet, and his keys in it. He could break down and ask Noah to bring them to him. But he didn’t want to face Noah yet. He’d not only messed up and lost a job yet again, he’d lost the job Noah had got for him, and it would reflect badly on Noah and hurt him at the firm. It was all very well for Max to think that firm didn’t deserve Noah and hope he’d go for a job elsewhere, but sometimes you had to put up with the BS and bite your tongue because you had to put bread on the table. When was Max going to grow up and learn that?
“You forgot your coat.”
He looked up at the sound of Owen’s voice. There he was, in his overcoat, carrying Max’s winter coat. He towered over Max, who looked up at him squinting, as the sun poured over his shoulder, feeling like a bronze age man staring up at the statue of a god.
Max shielded his eyes and took the coat. “Thanks.”
He hated the choked sound in his voice. He’d never see Owen again after today, he supposed. Easy come, easy go. To his surprise, Owen sat down on the bench beside him. Max stared ahead, holding his coat on his lap. Traffic and pedestrians passed for about a century before Owen spoke.
“I got the story out of Mrs Barstow. Though the best she could manage about a certain part was ‘he added the word end’ to Mr Bell’s name.’”
Max’s lips twitched. He gave in to it and smiled. Yeah. That had been a choice one.
“Penny was still laughing about it when I came out here. Noah wanted to come. In fact, Noah wanted to walk in to Mr Bellend’s office and resign on the spot. But I persuaded him and Penny to stay in my office and keep their heads down.”
“Oh. Good.”
“You know I won’t be able to think of him as anything but Mr Bellend from now on.”
“Oh, dear, what a pity.”
“What exactly did they say? Mrs Barstow didn’t hear that, only what you said to them. I gather a certain…racial slur was used.”
“I don’t want to repeat it.”
“Okay. Anything else? I’m not asking for laughs. If you want to take them to a tribunal, I will happily represent you.”
Max stared at him. He would. “Pro-boner?” He smirked.
“The word is bono, not boner, but you know that fine well. Max, what else did they say?”
Max repeated it back, not liking saying that s**t. Owen jotted notes with a slim silver pen onto a notepad he took from his pocket. He nodded and put it away when they were done.
“I believe the phrase is bang to rights. Wide open to cases against them from you, Noah, and Penny.” He rubbed his hands together. “God, it’s cold. Are you, um, are you going home?”
Max shrugged. “I suppose. The bus will be here soon.”
“Forget the bus. I’ll give you a lift.”
Max’s mouth went dry, and it wasn’t the effects of the cold air. Owen wanted to take him home. To an empty house. Noah probably wouldn’t be back for hours.
A couple of minutes later, he was slipping into the passenger seat of Owen’s Mercedes. The heated passenger seat. It was more comfortable than his bed.
“Nice car,” he said, trying to stay cool, even though he’d happily live in this car.
Owen nodded an acknowledgment, then manoeuvred them out into traffic.
When they got out of the busy traffic of the town centre, Owen relaxed and spoke again. Max snapped back to attention from watching the show—that is, Owen driving. He’d never appreciated before how sexy a hot guy driving a powerful car expertly could be.
“Max, may I ask you something?”
“Anything. Ah, I meant, ah, whatever.”
“You and Noah are so different. It’s hard to see you two as friends. Yet you’re clearly…more than that.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Max blurted out in a panic. Damn, if Owen thought that, he’d definitely never lay a hand on Max, and Max was extremely keen to have Owen laying hands on him.
Owen chuckled. “No, I know. That would be even less likely.”
“Noah’s straight.”
“I know. But I meant, he’s so serious and you’re, well, more fun-loving.”
“If you mean shallow…”
“No, I don’t.”
“Thick?” Max suggested.
“Certainly not.”
“Scatty?”
“Well, maybe…” He grinned and winked at Max, who died, yet somehow managed to continue speaking and moving around.
“I don’t say it much because it sounds weird, especially if we’re standing side by side, him black, me white, but we’re brothers. Not literally. Not even half-brothers. It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
“Our folks were in business together, when we were kids. Me and Noah were friends. I was friends with their other kids, too, but he was the same age as me, so we were closest. I didn’t have any siblings.”
“So you’ve known each other a long time.”
“Yeah. When I was twelve, my parents died in a car crash.” He could say it without his voice roughening and cracking these days. It had taken five years for that to be the case.
“Max, I’m so sorry,” Owen said, looking shocked. “I didn’t know.”
“Noah’s family took me in temporarily. My grandparents were all gone already. Then distant family members started coming out of the woodwork, looking for custody of me, because both my parents had hefty life insurance pay-outs, as well as their house and other money to leave me. Whoever had custody of me would have control of all the money until I was eighteen.”
Owen grimaced. “Yeah. I’ve seen a few cases of that sort.”
“The judge deciding on custody asked which relative I wanted to live with, and I said none of them. I wanted to stay with Noah’s family. They felt more like family than any of the blood relatives. Everyone was a bit taken aback. They weren’t even trying for custody, assumed a relative would get it. So me saying that threw the cat among the pigeons. But, in the end, it worked out. I got to stay with them. And from then on, me and Noah, we were brothers. He was there for me from the day my parents died, to when I got picked on at school for being too sissy. And he was there for me when I was figuring out my sexuality. He even fell out with his older brother over it, and they still don’t speak much. But he stuck by me.”
He petered out and coughed. There was a sealed bottle of water in the cup holder, and he took it with a silent request for permission. Owen nodded, then looked ahead again, negotiated a junction, giving Max time to drink his water and compose himself.
“I knew Noah was a good man,” Owen said when they were back on a straighter bit of road again, close to their destination. “Clearly, I barely knew the half of it.”
“He’s a good man from a good family, and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear those bastards disrespecting him. Oh, it’s just here. By the green gate.”
The Mercedes drew up at the pavement beside Max and Noah’s house. Max finished the water, undid his seatbelt, and turned to Owen. He was calm, not flustered the way he had been in the bar or every other time he spoke to Owen. Owen looked back at him, that laser vision of his in full operation, looking intently into Max’s eyes.
“Come inside,” Max said.
“For coffee?” A little teasing. A little smile playing around his eminently kissable lips.
“No. I want to go to bed with you. And I should have said that plainly from the start.”
Owen grinned and turned off the engine.
- Writer
