The Driver Page 7

  At this moment, with another man’s tongue in my mouth, it wasn’t working. I wasn’t turned on at all, I wasn’t interested in him and I was too old for him. I should have known this three hours before but Gerry was just happy to see me getting my end away and encouraged me shamelessly getting us both pretty shit-faced. A fact I proved when I nearly fell over him as he tried to seductively pull me to the floor. At the brief pause in proceedings he backed off and smiled a smile I had found hot earlier in the night but now it left me cold.

  “Where’s your bathroom?”

  I pointed him down the small corridor to our right and felt a surge of relief that he was walking away from me. I fell back against the door looking down at my tired dick and just wishing I hadn’t brought him back. At least if we had gone to his I could have fucked him and then left. God, I was starting to act like Cal, too.

  I checked my mobile, to try and distract myself from the hideous situation I had dragged this poor guy into, I even considered watching some porn to try and get hard so I could go through with it, but I was distracted from that pursuit when I saw I had a new voicemail.

  I raised the phone to my ear and hoped it wasn’t anything serious because I was in no way sober enough to coherently get across London at the moment.

  The voicemail started with silence. I hadn’t seen who the missed call was from, so for a moment I thought Marv might have butt-dialed me again, but finally someone spoke.

  “Hi Jay,” there was a long pause. “Can you call me?” He sounded echoey and far off. His voice slightly slurred. He was definitely not sober. Well, that made two of us. “Just spoke to Dad, wanted to check something with you.” Then the automated voice kicked in asking if I wanted to repeat or delete the message.

  Like an idiot, I listened to it three times before I finally deleted it, trying to decipher some meaning in the short, miserable voice I could hear through the line.

  My dick, the little shit, was now rock hard, after a few fucking sentences. At least I wouldn’t have to resort to porn for poor Simon.

  A movement to my right caught my eye and I felt a surge of relief as Simon emerged from the bathroom, looking furious and holding his phone. He started putting the shoes he had hastily shucked off as he came through the door, back on.

  He glanced at me, shook his head and swore inventively.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, praying it wasn’t that he’d finally realised I was too old for him, but also desperate for it to be bad enough that he needed to leave.

  “Listen,” he finally shoved his shoe back on and walked over to me. “I am physically going to murder my housemate, but he’s apparently managed to break his leg by jumping down the stairs. He was in Manga’s with one of his fuck buddies, who has abandoned him and I only just got his messages screaming at me to come and get him.”

  I must have had the same expression Simon would have had if I’d come up with that excuse, because he suddenly took another step towards me.

  “This is not me blowing you off.”

  “You sure?” I asked good-naturedly.

  “Definitely. Here’s my number. We should do this again.” He handed me a slip of paper he had scrawled his number on and sighed. “Listen.” He played the voicemail on speaker. His friend’s high pitched screaming voice, talking about antiseptic and hot nurses was accompanied by what sounded like a doctor trying to wrestle the phone from his hands. I was honestly so relieved I just snorted with laughter and put his number in my back pocket. “Urgh. You’re so fucking hot, this is just my luck.”

  I laughed again and he came over to me giving me a kiss and a roll of his hips for good measure. He felt my erection, then, and groaned.

  “Hot, hung and somehow single. Typical.”

  He walked over to the door.

  “You ordering an Uber or something?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m not sure how I’m gonna get him home, but I’ll be ok. Thanks for a great night.” He looked back at me lingering on my chest for a moment and then left with a small and kind of endearing wave.

  I sighed as relief crashed over me and I sagged back against the kitchen counter. Thank fuck for that.

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and went out on the balcony remembering how great Cal had looked in my dressing gown. I let my mind wander to an image of him walking up to me on the balcony, cup of coffee in hand, wishing me good morning, his hand coming round my waist with his beautiful head resting on my shoulder.

  “Fuck,” I slammed my hands into the railing and then regretted it as a splinter drove itself deep into my palm. It was too dark to see properly so I went back inside to search for tweezers.

  My phone buzzed. I felt nervous for a second wondering, in a fit of enthusiasm, if I had given Simon my number, but I knew I hadn’t. I wondered if Gerry was deliberately calling me in the midst of what should have been a night of rampant sex to crow with glee at me finally getting laid.

  Then I saw Cal’s name on the screen. The butterflies of happiness that exploded in my stomach made me grimace and I answered with a more than surly, “Hello?”

  “Having a good night?” No preamble. He sounded pissed off.

  “Where are you?”

  “Why, you sober enough to drive?”

  “Cal, it’s really late. Early. What do you want?”

  “So don’t pick up the phone if you don’t want to talk to me.”

  “I was worried you might be upset. Are you at the mansion?”

  “Yeah.” I could hear water running in the background. “I’m in the bath.” My hands stilled in my search for tweezers and I swallowed. “Are you still there?”

  “Yes. Don’t use a mobile in the bath. You could electrocute yourself.” I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and scowled at it. I really had drunk too much. Whoever heard of being electrocuted by a mobile phone?

  “Where are you?” His voice was soft and sleepy in my ear and I found it oddly soothing.

  “I’m in my bathroom.”

  “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  “I didn’t let you stay. You forced my hand by losing your fob. Did you find it?” I finally pulled out the tweezers and went back to my huge bed and flopped down on it, resting the phone against my ear as I prodded at my injured hand.

  He laughed, the real laugh I was getting addicted to.

  “Lucas has spares. He just shakes his head and hands them over.” A pause. “He loved my Gran. I’m pretty sure they had a thing. The funeral’s on Monday. I’ll need you to wear a black suit.”

  I always wore a black suit.

  “Lucas and your grandmother had a thing? As in they were together?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s so stoic and traditional, but she wasn’t. He probably would never have allowed it to go that far but he loved her. I’m certain of that. He must hate my father for abandoning her. I don’t know why he still works there. Here.” There was silence on the line and I tried not to imagine soap suds and Cal’s long legs under the water.

  “Maybe he stays to look after you?” I hazarded, aware of the slur in my voice and wishing I hadn’t drunk so much. Fucking Gerry.

  “Maybe.” A few more splashing sounds and then a sigh. “Will you come to the service?” The last only a whisper really. I could feel the haze of the alcohol envelop me like a blanket and I didn’t concentrate too much on how I felt, just answered honestly.

  “If you want me there, I’ll be there.”

  “I don’t want you there, Jay.” There was a slopping sound, as though he had fallen back against the back of the bath. “I need you there.” And he hung up just before I passed out on my front, with the phone resting against my head.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The day of the funeral didn’t start well. I picked Cal up and he was drunk, pissed off and none of the progress we appeared to have made seemed to matter. He bitched about the weather, he bitched about my tie, he bitched that he didn’t have enough coffee and he was downright furious whe
n he found that I’d taken all the alcohol out of the car. He actually kicked the back of my seat like an eight year old and told me I was his fucking property and I would do as he goddamn instructed.

  That was when I stopped the car.

  I got out, feeling the anger seething just below the surface. I knew he was upset, I knew he was lashing out at someone safe, someone he knew he could rage at without consequence but I wasn’t anyone’s property and I had had enough.

  We had stopped a few minutes away from the church. It was my favourite type of English countryside, with woods either side of the road and wide rolling fields to drive through on the way.

  I hauled Cal out of the car, ignoring his violent protests, dragged him into a dappled circle of sunlight just beyond the road and shoved him hard against a tree. We were both breathing heavily and he was staring at me like I had gone completely insane. I think I had.

  “If you’re planning on turning up to your grandmother’s funeral so drunk you won’t remember it then you’re an idiot. And I’d be more of one for letting you. You’re sobering up before we get there, you got it? I don’t care how upset you are, I don’t care how much pain you’re in, imagine what she’d think of you now. Sniveling like a whining child because you can’t get wasted. Get over yourself Cal, you’re burying someone you love and she deserves some respect.”

  He was very still, just staring at me as I breathed heavily from struggling with his weight and dragging him to the tree line. The road behind us was totally still there was a soft rustle of wind in the trees but otherwise absolute silence.

  He took a shuddering breath and I saw the telltale glisten to his eyes and I knew he wouldn’t want me to see him cry. There was no thought process to what I did next, no consideration, I just put my hand out, curled it over his shoulder and pulled him to me in a tight squeezing hug. It took him less than a second to respond, his arms gripping around my waist like he was drowning. I could feel him shaking.

  I waited for what felt like a long time for his shoulders to finally stop shuddering and then he pulled away. He was annoyingly beautiful when he cried. No snot down his face, no puffy eyes, just tears on his cheeks and wet eyelashes that framed his eyes perfectly.

  “Sorry.” It took me a moment to realise I had said that. “I’m not letting you go there like this. We have a half hour. Sober up.”

  “Okay,” he wiped his eyes, shrugging his jacket on straight and looked up at me.

  And that was another moment in my life with Cal Emerson. The moment where I realised just how much trouble I was in. The sunlight caught his hair and I wanted to stroke my fingers through it. I wanted to kiss that beautiful mouth. Then he stepped forward and took the decision out of my hands. His lips touched mine, feather light, almost like a thank you at first and then his mouth opened and all bets were off.

  I fisted my hands in the lapels of his jacket and pushed him back against the tree. Harder than I should have. Now he really opened for me, my tongue touching his, my teeth gripping his bottom lip lightly, and he moaned as I pressed my body tight against his.

  “Shit,” I tried to pull away but he just grabbed for me again and thrust forward off the trunk of the tree lining us up and devouring my mouth, taking control of the kiss like he had been born for it, and I was lost; totally and completely lost. I felt the evidence of his erection pressing against mine and I had never been so turned on in my life. He gasped and ground against me so I bit him, and ground right back.

  He groaned and thrust his fingers into my hair as I licked into his mouth tasting the cool, clean taste of him before my brain finally, inevitably, kicked in and I wrenched myself away, wiping my mouth and righting my clothes – mortified.

  So he had an erection, so he was turned on by kissing. What the hell had I been thinking? It was his grandmother’s funeral today. He had already told me that kissing a guy was gross and that he didn’t want to do it again, and here I was basically dry humping him against a tree letting him know for certain I was interested. Fuck.

  “Fuck,” I swore again and walked back to the car. Coward that I am I got in and didn’t look back at him. At that moment I had never felt more disgusted with myself. The guy was confused enough without me treating him like a leper, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to him. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and stupid. I never should have let it happen. Not since Hiroshi had I had a relationship or any kind of physical affair with one of my clients and with Hiroshi it had been defined. We had both been gay, he had wanted me briefly while I was young and then he’d moved on and I’d fancied myself heartbroken until I discovered the scene with Gerry and then everything got better and I realised what I’d been missing.

  This fuckfest of a situation was a nightmare. A young, straight, vulnerable kid on the day of a family member’s funeral who was probably the only person he loved in the world, and I try to fuck him against a tree in broad daylight. I felt sick.

  Cal seemed to have taken my warning about being drunk seriously, and took the thirty minutes I had given him even more seriously. He didn’t get back in the car until I was about to go and get him and when he did, he said nothing at all.

  We started driving and there was silence from the back. My finger itched to change the glass of the screen so that I could no longer see him, but that really would draw the line and it would make him think it was his fault.

  He drank a few of the smaller bottles of water as we drove. I thought he might need me to stop to take a piss but he didn’t say a single word. We pulled into the driveway of the church and I don’t think I had ever felt so guilty in my life. I looked at him in the rear view mirror and he was looking back, uncertainty written across his features.

  “I’m really sorry,” I blurted, looking away from those glassy beautiful eyes, “Do you still want –“

  “Yes. God. Please, just get out of the car.” So I did.

  I opened the door for him like a good driver should and we walked up the paved walkway to the church. It was small and beautiful and he seemed pleased with the choice. I felt cold inside that he probably hadn’t had any say in what happened today. The service would have been entirely his father’s creation and nothing in it would reflect the woman Cal had loved. It would be clinical. I knew that already.

  “Don’t leave me alone.” And we went inside.

  The church wasn’t exactly soulless but it had a minimalistic, still quality to it. There was something a little wrong with the windows and the decorations; even the flowers, which were colourful in places, seemed to sap the colour out of the room. Cal paced beside me, expression blank and hopeless. I was at his left shoulder and I was counting the seconds. No matter what Cal said, no matter what he wished for, I couldn’t be beside him all day; his father would never allow it. I was the hired help and I wouldn’t be sitting with the family on the day of Donald Emerson’s mother’s funeral, I wasn’t even certain if I should have come into the church at all. I looked at Cal who had seen his father by the altar.

  “Fine, sit behind me. I don’t care. Just somewhere nearby.”

  And with that he walked away from me up the long echoing church towards a stone-faced man who bore no resemblance to Cal at all, and whose expression wasn’t one of grief, but of barely disguised annoyance. I checked my watch. We were late and Cal had a small piece of bark stuck to the back of his jacket. I felt my cheeks flame at the memory of that violent kiss and took a seat as close to the family as I could get. Cal saw that I was a few pews back and he scowled at me before he sat down.

  The service was somber and awful. I could see Cal twitching and sighing throughout and his father was shooting daggers his way, which he was either ignoring or so accustomed to it didn’t bother him anymore. I was half in the service and half back under the trees with Cal, feeling his dick pressed against mine. Don’t get an erection in church.

  I glanced across the aisle and saw Lucas sitting alone at the end. His eyes were fixed on the coffin in the center of the aisle and tears were streami
ng down his face. I swallowed, trying to think of something to say to him when we met at the wake, but there was nothing that I would be able to do to comfort him.

  If Cal was right and Lucas and his grandmother had been in love, there was nothing that could be said. I knew that. All you could do was be there and wait for it to get better on its own. People say things happen for a reason, but when you’re sat in a church at someone’s funeral, surrounded by grief; it’s difficult to understand why.

  ~

  The cool breeze that wafted through my clothes as I stepped out of the church revived me. In some ways the service had been touching. Cal hadn’t read anything aloud; he hadn’t even been involved beyond nodding at the crowds that gathered and putting on a very believable and heartbreakingly brave face.

  I hovered at the edge of his vision all afternoon but felt totally helpless. Cremations were heartless things and I had decided years before I wanted to be buried. There was somehow more dignity in that, although I wasn’t sure why. I couldn’t take my eyes from Cal’s face. It was like he was slowly shutting down from the inside. He wore dark glasses but I could see his face setting itself in a hard line, his jaw clamped shut. I had never in my life wanted to hold someone so much as in that moment.

  And finally it was over. The mourners scattered and Cal got into his father’s car, motioning to me to follow them. I definitely couldn’t be close to him then, but I broke the speed limit to get to the mansion before them.

  I sat silently in the driver’s seat waiting for a sign, for any sign that he would be okay and that he would ask to see me, but the family entered the front door of the mansion, and I knew as soon as the door closed that that was it. It would be a waiting game from then on. I noticed Lucas at the back of the group going round the gravel path, away from the main entrance of the house and realised with a rush of disgust that a man who had worked for the family for thirty years, and who had probably been more responsible for raising Cal than his parents had, was going in via the servant’s entrance. Who did that in this day and age? Who would ever put such little value on another person’s loyalty? I clenched my fists and started the car. If I had to wait, then I would wait, no matter how long it took.