With or Without Him (22 page)

I’m going to throw up.

“Are you all right?” the doctor asked, looking at him in concern.

“Bathroom?” Tyler blurted.

“Over there on the right.”

He tried not to race out as he wended his way through waiting staff in the process of delivering the first course, only breaking out into a run when the path was clear. Part of him wanted to keep running out of the building and into the night but what would Haris think then? He slammed the door of a cubicle and vomited into the bowl.
I have to tell Haris the truth. Tell him what I used to do. He knows about the BDSM thing, he’ll understand.

Would he?

Tyler wiped his mouth with tissue, flushed the toilet and leaned against the wall of the stall. If Gerald approached him and used his name, he wasn’t going to be able to deny he knew him and when Haris asked how they knew each other…
fuck.
But if he threatened Gerald by saying he’d tell about Jeremy? Tell who, he wasn’t sure. Did he have a wife? Was she sitting by him? Could he do that?

“Finished throwing up?”

Tyler shuddered. He should have known Gerald would follow. Maybe it was a good thing. He could stop this right now. He opened the door of the cubicle and walked to the wash basin. Gerald stood leaning against the door, smirking.
Bastard.
Tyler splashed cold water into his mouth and spat into the bowl.
Ignore him.

Gerald strolled over to the dispenser and handed him a paper towel. Tyler snatched it from his hand.
So much for ignoring him.

“What’s a bad boy like you doing in a nice place like this?” The fucker had the nerve to snigger like some cartoon villain.

Tyler longed for some superhero to drive an iron fist through the wall, grab Gerald by the neck, yank him back and launch him into space. Nothing happened. Nothing ever did. He had to handle it himself as he did everything else. He learned how to be resilient. If he hadn’t, he’d have crumbled. He wiped his mouth, bunched up the towel and threw it in the trash. What was the point saying anything to this arsehole? He’d be better off denying he knew him. When he moved toward the door, Gerald stepped in front of him.

“I’m hard even thinking about fucking you.” He rubbed his hand over his crotch.

Don’t you dare touch me.
Tyler met Gerald’s gaze and tried not to swallow.

“What happened to you on Saturday?”

Tyler reached for the door handle, and Gerald caught his wrist and twisted hard.

“I had to make do with Jeremy. He’s a screamer. I prefer your sullen defiance.”

Tyler wrenched free. “You raped him, you fucking monster.”

When he saw the shock on Gerald’s face, and the swift way that shock turned to fury, he wondered if he’d just made a bad mistake in letting Gerald know he and Jeremy had been talking.

But the guy’s distraction allowed Tyler to elbow him aside and get out of the restroom. He raced back to the table and dropped down breathless next to Haris.

“Okay?” Haris shot him a puzzled look.

“Yeah, fine.” He stared at the elaborate seafood starter in front of him and doubted he’d be able to eat a thing.

“I managed to get you on the list,” Haris said. “Right between ‘a day at the races’ and ‘four hours with a tax consultant.’ I think they’d have to pay most people to spend four hours with a taxman.”

“Great.” Tyler stuck his fork into a prawn and pushed it around the plate, making a pattern in the sauce.

“What’s wrong? If you’ve changed your mind, I can—”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry. I’m full. It’s that Marmite sandwich and er—what came after.” That was the most pathetic excuse he’d ever made and judging by Haris’s snort, he thought that too.

The auctioneer sold the first ten lots after they’d finished the starter. Tyler mentally laughed at the idea of bidding for anything. No item started at less than a hundred pounds, even a crappy drawing the size of a postcard that looked like a kid had done it. Then he felt bad when he realized a kid
had
done it. A sick kid.

He could feel Gerald’s eyes boring into his back and was determined not to look at him. But concentrating on the conversation going around the table was almost impossible. He did his best to smile in the right places, and he made enough of a mess of his main course to make it look as though he’d eaten some of it but every now and again, Haris’s hand settled on his knee and squeezed. Tyler wished it reassured him, but he felt like he was waiting for lightning to strike.

When the auctioneer started on the last group of items, the sinking sensation in his stomach cemented him to his seat. What if Gerald bid for him? He wrapped his hands around the edge of his chair.
Damn, damn, damn.

“What’s wrong?” Haris whispered.

“No one’s going to bid and I’ll feel an idiot,” he lied.

“I’ll bid.”

Tyler shot him a glance. “No, don’t.” Because Gerald would see there was a connection between them other than them sitting at the same table.
Oh God. Maybe it’s too late anyway.

“Now I have an additional lot,” called the auctioneer. “After your day at the races, madam, perhaps you’d like some entertainment for a dinner party? Tyler Bellamy, a final year music student and a talented pianist, is offering his services for two hours on a mutually acceptable evening. Who’d like to start me at a hundred pounds?”

“A hundred,” Gerald called behind him.

Tyler chewed the inside of his cheeks. How could he have even considered Gerald
not
bidding? The amounts went up and up. Bidders came and went but Gerald stayed.

Haris bent his head and whispered in Tyler’s ear, “What the hell is the matter with you? You’re white as this table cloth.”

“I don’t want him to win.” Tyler hadn’t meant to let the words slip past his lips but they were out now.

“Look at me,” Haris said.

Tyler turned.

“Five thousand pounds,” Haris called out.

The breath froze in Tyler’s throat. The last bid had been one thousand.

“Six thousand,” Gerald shouted.

I’m going to throw up.
“P-please,” spurted from his mouth.

Haris waved his hand to the auctioneer. “Twenty thousand.”

Tyler’s lungs locked and the noise that filled his head sounded as if the whole room had gasped in astonishment. Everything swam in his vision, he heard a roaring in his ears and realized it was applause. When it died away, he wasn’t sure what had happened.

“You must have exceptional talent,” said the doctor at his side.

Haris had a smile on his face. Did that mean he’d won? Tyler risked a glance at Gerald and saw him scowling.

“You can thank me later,” Haris whispered.

He’d just cost Haris twenty thousand pounds and ruined everything. Even if he made it to the end of the four months,
now
he wouldn’t be able to take the money. He couldn’t expect him to pay twice. There would be no twenty thousand toward his debts. They’d still be there.
Oh fuck.

The auction ended and Tyler slumped as people began to get up from the table.

“For a guy who just made more for this charity than most of the other lots, you don’t look very happy,” Haris said.

“Too much,” Tyler managed to say.

Haris shrugged. “I had to bid on something. Why not you?”

Tyler caught sight of Gerald advancing, and it was as if he were watching a car careening toward him, knowing the collision was going to happen and unable to do anything about it.

Gerald put his hand on the back of Haris’s chair and leaned over. “He’s a good fuck,” he said quietly, “but he’s not that good.”

He smirked at Tyler and walked away.

“Ah,” Haris said quietly. He stared at Tyler and waited, his face blank.

“He was the man who raped my friend,” Tyler blurted.

Haris’s beautiful eyes widened. “How the hell do you know him?”

“Don’t ask me.” He pushed to his feet, grateful he managed to stand without staggering.

Haris stood too.

“Thank you for b-buying me.” Then he
did
stagger.

Haris caught his arm. “Right, we’re leaving. Come on.”

Tyler didn’t take another breath until they stood outside. He inhaled the cold, crisp night air and released an audible sigh. Haris called Wilson and then tapped out a text. Even in Tyler’s confused state of mind, he wondered who he’d texted. Haris took hold of his hand, wrapped his strong fingers around his and pulled him down the lit path past the ice rink. Tyler didn’t remember when anyone had ever held his hand like this. It wasn’t sensible to draw attention and he knew he ought to pull away, but he didn’t want to because he drew comfort from the contact.

Once outside the museum grounds, they set off down the road and Haris didn’t let go of him.

“It’s too cold to stand around,” Haris said. “We’ll walk until Wilson has time to get here.”

Tyler knew Haris expected him to talk about Gerald, but how could he without revealing his sordid past? Then again, he had to say something.

“He’s not a nice guy,” he muttered.

“Since he raped your friend, I’d guessed that much,” Haris said. “So you and he were…”

Were what? We were nothing.

“He fucked me a few times.”
More than a few.
“He’s a sadistic bastard.”
He likes to strangle me.

“Then why the hell…? Did he ever rape you?” Haris tightened his grip on his hand.

“No.” Though he’d been rough, his hands far too tight around Tyler’s neck, shoving his cock into him without sufficient preparation and Tyler had considered saying no, but then thought of the money and kept his mouth shut. He suspected Gerald liked to hear the guy he was fucking say no though he’d only ignore it, which was why he’d warned Jeremy to take care. Maybe if he’d been with Jeremy on Saturday, Gerald wouldn’t have…
oh Christ, I’m not going down that path. It’s not my fault Gerald raped him. Except…

“You ought to persuade your friend to go to the police.”

I can’t talk about this.

Tyler stopped walking and turned to face Haris. “That was a lot of money to bid when you’ve already got me.”

“It was for a worthy cause.”

“I’m not worthy.”

“For the cancer charity, you idiot.”

But when Haris brushed Tyler’s hair from his eyes and rubbed his thumb along the line of his jaw, Tyler knew that was only part of it. Haris had bid because he’d asked him to. He’d still offer him the twenty thousand at the end of four months, except Tyler wouldn’t take it. Part of him had decided not to take it anyway, even before tonight.
Oh God, I’m in too deep already.

“When did your brother die?” Haris asked.

Tyler chewed his lip. Maybe Haris thought he was letting him off the hook by changing the subject and instead, he was driving the barb deeper.

“Fourteen years ago. He was thirteen.”

“Was he in care with you?”

“No.” Tyler began to breathe more rapidly.
I was on my own. I had no one. I didn’t need anyone. I don’t need anyone. I don’t—

“Hey.” Haris pulled him into his arms and held him tight and in the warmth and strength of his embrace, Tyler let himself dissolve against him.

“Fucking queers,” a voice hissed behind them, and Tyler spun around, arms flailing, panic swelling in his chest.

Haris grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. Five men stood close by.
Shit.
This was why he didn’t do public displays of affection. Too many wankers like this spoiling for a fight.

“Perverts,” said a shaven-headed man in his late twenties.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Tyler snarled.

Haris tugged at his arm. “That’s not helping.”

“Make me,” the man said with a sneer. “On second thoughts, don’t touch me. I don’t want to catch anything.”

Tyler wrenched to get free but Haris didn’t let him go.

The group laughed as Tyler fought to get loose.

“Ooh, the girls are fighting,” someone called.

“Go fuck yourself,” Tyler shouted.

Haris dragged him away down the path. “Stop struggling. You want to take on all those idiots? Look, Wilson’s across the road. Come on.”

He hustled him over and pushed him into the back of the car. Tyler slumped against the door as the vehicle pulled away.

“Well…” Haris exhaled. “That was an eventful evening.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler muttered.

“Come here.”

Tyler turned to look at him.

“Come here,” he repeated and opened his arms.

Tyler slid across the seat into them.

“What the hell was all that about?” Haris pressed his face against Tyler’s hair.

Tyler didn’t know where to start or even if he should start. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it all over his body. He had an opportunity now to tell Haris about Prescott, and get it all out in the open. But then Haris wouldn’t hold him like this anymore, as if he was something special, someone he cared about.