Second Star to the Right

Chapter 2-2

Eighteen hundred bucks, that wasn’t so much—not for a companion for seven days and six nights, even if half of two of those days would be lost to driving. He kept doing the math in his head, telling himself that was a great deal, considering. It was the “in advance” part that made him nervous. And the “you also might want to consider a tip if it all works out for you, love.” Her laughing when he’d clumsily asked if he was to be tipping her or the gentleman joining him hadn’t made him feel any better either.

“I’m new to this,” he’d wanted to yell. But he’d held his tongue. Better to err on the side of silence than blurt out anymore k****e for the roaring fire of humiliating foolishness that he’d managed to get going.

“One more thing,” Amelia had said, setting both palms on her desk and forcing him to catch and hold her gaze. “Just a formality, of course; I doubt I even have to bother with it. But I’m going to, because that’s what I do.”

He’d stared in silence, watching something dark settle into the eyes of the woman that had, for the most part, seemed like the kind of sweet thing one would run into at the grocery store.

“You’d best be remembering that is a person you’re dealing with. And nobody hurts my people. You truck him off to that retreat of yours and you hurt him, I will find you and I will hurt you right f*****g back. There is no place on this planet that you will be able to hide if I have to come looking for you. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Mason?”

His skin had seemed to crawl into life, prickling with goose bumps. “I don’t…I mean, I’m not…I won’t. I don’t hurt people.”

“Best see to it that you don’t,” she’d reiterated, before pasting the smile back on and nodding at the door. “You have a nice day now, you hear?”

He closed his eyes and shook the memory out of his head, blowing a long breath at his windshield and staring through the plate glass window of the LCBO. Seven days with a stranger, regardless of how hard that stranger was trying to make his body sing, meant he was going to need some liquor. He didn’t bother with the arm-baskets either. Mason grabbed one of the half-sized shopping carts and began loading it.

“Having a party, Mr. L?”

Mason’s hand hesitated over the bottle of scotch and he hid his wince by offering it to the shelving unit. “Heya, Craig. Back already, are you?”

He didn’t have to turn to place the face. He knew that voice anywhere. Nineteen and shiny, way too f*****g young for the smiles and the suggestive way he talked whenever they were around each other, Craig was the son of an associate from work. An important associate. An associate who would not be impressed to hear his son was flirting vicariously with a man far closer to his age than his son’s.

“Look who’s talking.” Craig’s grin was obvious in his voice. He stepped closer in an attempt to secure eye contact; eye contact that was adamantly, yet covertly, refused. “After all, last time I was here I ran into you. So if I’m here too often, that means you are too.” He reached past Mason, cologne-heavy and aura-invasive, to snag a bottle to the right of Mason’s shoulder. “But you didn’t answer my question. Are you having a party and forgetting to invite me?”

Mason laughed, a single huff of too dry air. “No. No, I’m not. I’m actually going away for a week. So I figured I’d best stock up.”

“Too bad.” Craig flattened his lips together before releasing them in an almost kiss-like fashion. “I can’t think of anything I would love more than to come at one of your parties.”

Don’t, Mason told himself. Do not even laugh at that. Do not make it seem like you know what the f**k he’s suggesting. “Sorry, I’m not much of a party thrower.” He nodded with a small grin and tried to manipulate himself around Craig without going anywhere near the kid. “I’m not exactly a people person.”

A million flares went off in Mason’s guts when Craig leaned over the cart and lowered his voice. “Who said there had to be any other people?”

“God, wow, look at that,” Mason all but shouted, stepping back a foot and slamming his back against the shelving unit. “It’s almost four o’clock already. I really have to be going. Thanks for the chat though. It’s great to see you again, Craig. Do me a favour and say hi to your dad for me, okay?”

He pushed past Craig, harder than he meant to and all but ran for the front of store. With one hand on the counter to steady himself, Mason dragged the bottles on to the unit one at a time.

“Everything all right, Mr. Lawrence?”

“It will be,” Mason told the cashier, sliding the assortment of bottles closer to the till. “I will be.”