Redemption's A Bitch - 6. Too Proud To Beg

Kieran groaned, reached for his phone to still the blaring noise, knocked it from the stand at his bedside, rolled over and smothered himself with the duvet.

“Someone had a bit too much fun last night.”

“Oh god…” Kieran located a hand and pressed it against his temple. When he tried to open his eyes, spots of unnamed colours exploded in his vision. “I’m dying.”

“No, you’re hung over.” Shastan’s tone was lined with smugness. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been that drunk.”

Kieran groped out from under the covers and something he hit went crashing to the floor.

“Water.” He demanded.

“You just spilt it everywhere. Get yourself into a shower and I’ll make you breakfast.”

The thought of food had Kieran running for the bathroom.

Half an hour later he was dressed, dragging a brush through his hair, clean but damp, and took the four large white pills his cousin handed him and swallowed them dry.

“Feel better now?”

“No.” Kieran dropped the brush and wound his yard long hair into a fast messy bun. He grabbed a long handled spoon from the kitchen-bar and secured his hair with the handle. “What time is it?”

“Two. It’s Sunday.”

“I was aware of that.” Kieran sighed. “You let the dogs out?”

“’Course.” Shastan glanced sideways at his cousin as they descended into the main house. “You left me high and dry for the suit fitting yesterday. We’re gonna have to call in the tailor for you, again.”

“Shas, I have a dozen suits. Pick one.” Kieran waved a hand dismissively. “Do I even have to be there?”

“You forget that you’re my Best Man?” Shastan arched an eyebrow at him. “Now are you gonna be a sulky bitch all day or do you want to come to the test kitchen and help eat all my coverture?”

Kieran grumbled, but after fussing the dogs for an hour he left them snoozing on the grass with the doors open into the house and walked through the main kitchen and down the little hallway to Shastan’s kitchen.

Shastan Toyne made chocolate, though Kieran always cut him off when his cousin tried to finish the sentence with ‘for a living’. His test kitchen was the only place in the house where the dogs weren’t allowed, and, as a result, where Kieran almost never went. The test kitchen always smelt of sugar. Always. It never mattered how clean and shiny the stainless steel work surfaces were or how little product was actually in the kitchen, it always smelt like sugar and chocolate. Shastan’s confections were sold through the sort of super luxury boutiques that made Harrods look like a supermarket. And he made them from beans. The entire process was done by him in house. Kieran had never bothered to learn how it was done, but he hefted a sack of raw cocoa beans as directed, even though bending at the waist made him want to throw up again, and helped spread them out on thin metal trays to be roasted. Shastan made chocolate in small batches, but to Kieran the amounts always seemed huge. He loaded the four massive trays into the roasting oven, which was flattish and rather industrial looking, then sat on a stool and watched his cousin move around the kitchen, checking on batches he had left to set in their moulds from the previous days.

Kieran had been fourteen the first time he had met Shastan, and a decade later it still felt sometimes like yesterday. Sometimes it still felt like he was living with a total stranger. They had been pushed together, by fate and unhappy circumstance, and for Kieran it had been a non-choice of the custody of his cousin, or the custody of the state. He knew exactly which he preferred. Shastan had been twenty-two, a weird age to become a custodian and role model to a child he had only met once, when Kieran had been a new born and completely unable to remember him. Kieran remembered the look of familial recognition the first time he’d seen his cousin and shaken his hand under the close observance of the social worker. Shastan looked like him, or he looked like Shastan, and they shared a certain number of features: the height, the long limbs and narrow hips. Their skin was the same shade of caramel brown, their hair was equally jet black and shiny, though Kieran’s was long and Shastan’s was cut into a more modern short style. They had the same shapes in their faces, high cheekbones, strong jaws, the broad forehead and deep set eyes of their Meso-American ancestors. Kieran had inherited a weird green eye colour from somewhere, though Shastan’s were the original, traditional deep chocolate brown.

“You’re my cousin?” Kieran had asked, in a voice much bolder than he felt.

“Yes. I’m Shastan. My father’s sister was your uncle’s cousin. We’re cousins twice-removed or something, but it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re a Toyne?”

“Yes. You got the double barrelled name from your parents.”

“You mean I’m the last one?” Kieran had asked.

“Yeah. You’re the only Tristan Toyne there is.”

At that moment, Kieran had decided to go by his last name whenever he could.

Kieran hadn’t wanted to switch schools, but he also didn’t feel like living hundreds of miles across the country from his only surviving relative. The social services didn’t like it either, so Kieran got to be the new boy at the best private school within a fifty mile radius.

Being the only two heirs of a dynastic family of successful and wealthy people had one major upside, and though people often said they were jealous of Kieran’s money, he always wondered if they would be willing to trade their entire family for it. Kieran knew in abstract that his parents had been well off, poor people did not send their only son to a twenty-thousand pound boarding school, but he and Shastan were the only heirs of a fortune so vast, Kieran still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. A huge amount of the money was still held in trust, the last of it would be released when Kieran hit his twenty-fifth birthday, but he already had way more than he knew what to do with. He would joke, somewhat truthfully, that unless he spent six thousand pounds every day, he would never get poorer. Even at fourteen, Kieran had been one of the youngest private benefactors of charities up and down the country.

Somehow, being in Shastan’s test kitchen always made him feel a bit like a child, and Kieran sat and turned the handle of the bean grinder as Shastan poured in the newly roasted beans from the oven trays. Kieran always left anything tricky or complicated to his cousin, but as his headache finally subsided, he found himself straining the chocolate liquor through an incredibly fine meshed sieve as Shastan began to work and temper the new batch of chocolate.

“What shape will these be?”

“Hearts,” Shastan sighed. “Wedding favours.”

“You mean you actually get to contribute to this wedding?” Kieran exaggerated his mock-shocked tone. “I though the whole thing was happening without you.”

“Without you, you mean?” Shastan arched an eyebrow as he began to assemble the steel moulds. “We have the rehearsal dinner next week.”

“Ergh…”

“Just family.”

“Is there any point?” Kieran laid down the sieve and dipped his finger into the thick liquor. He scowled as soon as he popped the digit in his mouth. Brand new one-hundred percent chocolate was so bitter, but he forgot every time. “Or did you forget that we don’t have a family?”

“Kier!” Shastan took the liquor from him and shook his head. “What a thing to say! You want a hot chocolate?”

Kieran arched an eyebrow. Shastan’s hot chocolate was thick, rich, creamy, delicious, and recently rather rare. He smiled.

“You got any Speculoos biscuits?

“Cupboard above the small sink.” Shastan smiled at his cousin as Kieran crossed the kitchen excitedly. Sometimes it felt like no time had passed at all.

*

“Kieran!”

Lying in the thick green grass, Kieran scowled. He had been sort of hoping everyone had forgotten about him and the dogs. It had gotten late, and while Shastan and Rebecca had been fusing around in the house getting ready, Kieran had played with the dogs, and stared dreamily at the sky.

It had been more or less a week since he’d driven to Rebecca’s parent’s house in a rage and been turned away by Robin like a stray dog. He’d gone out Monday once his liver had fully recovered from the incident with the body shots and the go-go dancer, and ended up spending the evening in the company of after-hours metal heads having propped up the bar at The Waterfront feeling sorry for himself. The first drink had made his head spin, and he’d stuck to cola and cream soda all night.

Kieran had never felt so aggravated in his entire life. Every glance across the dance floor he convinced himself that Robin was there. Every time he thought of the boy something in his head twisted in anger. Robin had made him feel… worthless. Kieran had never felt worthless before. Not once in his entire life. And he hated that everything reminded him of the boy. After an hour he’d quit the club and headed for the metal bar, one of the few places he drank where the barman didn’t know his name and didn’t care who he was. Kieran had sat in a little vinyl booth, not watching the dance floor, drinking Jack Daniels, and wishing he was home. He’d not gone out since.

“Kieran!”

“Oh fuck.” Kieran rocked up onto his feet, clicked his tongue to the dogs and headed towards the house. Rebecca was standing in the back hallway in her party dress, a concoction of dove grey silk and lace, extremely elegant and stylish, holding her phone. “Yes?”

“Can you go pick up my brother? His date bailed.”

“What?” Kieran stared at her. He had studiously avoided his future something-in-law ever since he’d met her brother, on the basis that after the incident with all of the shouting outside their parent’s house, Robin would have made it clear he thought Kieran was a bastard who needed shooting, preferably through the head. He was shocked to realise that this was not the case. “Huh?”

“Can you pick him up? Please?”

“Becca…”

“Please, Kier! Mum and dad have gone to the restaurant already to fix the flowers.” She pressed the phone against her ear again. “It’s alright Rob, you won’t be late.” She covered the phone with her free hand and looked at Kieran imploringly. “Please?”

“Fine.”

“Don’t ruin your suit.”

Kieran looked down at his clothes, ratty bootleg jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt for a band whose gig he could barely remember, and sighed.

“I’ll take a car.”

He drove fast, but not illegally, and made good time against the rush hour traffic towards Robin’s house. Coming back would be worse, but Kieran had taken his favourite four wheeled vehicle, and he felt as good as he could of, given the circumstances of his and the little Sparrow’s last meeting. There were faster cars, sleeker cars, more expensive and more fashionable cars, but Kieran loved the Audi. It always made him feel secure and quietly confident. It helped that the white and black machine looked like an angry panther in disguise but drove in town like a skiff on a smooth lake. It was not a car that Kieran ever let the dogs into, and as such the interior was immaculate, the black leather and contrast white stitching gleaming softly and making the car smell similar to the inside of an expensive handbag.

Kieran drove the Audi partway around the little circle in front of the narrow houses and pulled up outside Robin’s front door. Stepping out of the car, the front door opened, and he looked up at Robin.

There was a moment of stillness as they took each other in, and just before Robin’s expression switched to one of loathing, Kieran could feel the boy’s eyes moving over him, appreciative and wanting. He glanced down at his impeccably clean cut grey suit and flattened the narrow black tie against his shirt with his hand. He’d braided his hair and traded his bare feet for well-polished brogues. He smiled at Robin, and the boy’s expression clamped down immediately.

“That’s your car?”

“Yes.” Kieran felt his shoulders tense, instantly defensive against that derisive tone, and he laid his hand on the roof of the Audi. “You want a lift or not?”

“Could you pick anything more ostentatious?” Robin rolled his eyes. “Hang on. I just have to lock up.”

Kieran slid into the car and shut the door. Through the deep tinted windows he watched Robin collect his phone and keys from the hall table and lock the front door. Whoever his date had been, Robin had clearly made an effort for them, and he looked sleek and young in straight leg indigo jeans with inch high turn-ups, clean and bright green All-Stars, a white shirt, matching green skinny tie, and a dark blue suit jacket with ochre stitching on the pockets. Kieran was filled with hot, unexpected rage at the person who had stood Robin up, quickly followed by relief that he wouldn’t have to grit his teeth all evening and put up with Robin being cute and smiley with someone else. Not that Robin was likely to be cute and smiley with him anyway. He watched Robin walk towards the car and slip into the front passenger seat. Somehow the distance between them seemed vast.

“Thank you.” Kieran stared at him in shock, and Robin glanced down, fiddling self-consciously with his cuffs, “For coming to get me.”

Kieran should have reassured him, should have smiled or shrugged, told the boy he was welcome or that it was fine, but he didn’t.

“So what better offer did your date get, Sparrow?” He fired up the engine of the Audi and grinned cockily.

“Fuck you.”

“You wanna jump out of a moving car?” Kieran snapped.

“No.”

Kieran smirked, even though he felt like a Prize Winning Shit, and turned the stereo up as he drove. The traffic was just as bad as he had thought, and as they idled on the bypass doing twenty, Robin reached out and lowered the volume. Kieran frowned as the radio faded out.

“I invited my friend Jemma to come. It wasn’t a date.” Robin sighed. “She wanted to show off her new dress anyway, and it seemed like a good opportunity. She and Rebecca get on well.” There was a long pause, and Kieran found himself slowing the big white Audi as he looked over at the boy. “And then fuckin’ Damien calls and says he got tickets for a cabaret show in London and now I’m sitting here with you.”

“Sorry I’m such appalling company.” Kieran tried to smile as he spoke, but didn’t manage.

“You’re not-” Robin stopped himself, and Kieran got the feeling that the boy might have literally bitten his tongue. “Never mind.”

Kieran didn’t respond, but traffic started moving again and he pulled into the other lane, sped past a collection of non-descript cars before turning off at the slip road and heading into the city. Rebecca and her mother had picked a very slick restaurant in town, hired out the whole thing and asked the young head chef of The Fish and Antlers to provide beautiful canapés for everyone. Kieran adored the idea of seeing Robin there, in such lovely surroundings, and hated the fact that the little Sparrow would turn and look at him like dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

They crawled along the promenade looking for parking, because city-seafront restaurants under scrutiny for their first Michelin stars did not have customer car parks, and Kieran took every opportunity to glance across at Robin. The boy was playing with his phone, unaware of the way the screen lit his face, emphasizing every gesture and expression. He was beautiful. Kieran finally found a spot, parked the Audi as easily as sliding a hand into the clothes of a delightful stranger, and found the time to walk around the other side and hold Robin’s door as the boy stood. The gesture brought them close together, and Kieran realised again how tall the boy was, not even six inches less than Kieran’s lanky height, and he couldn’t help but focus on the pale pink lips when he spoke.

“I’m glad you’re not here with someone else.” He meant it as a compliment, words breathed into the small space between them, falling onto Robin’s soft skin. Robin frowned up at him.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t have to be jealous of someone else all evening now.” Kieran locked the car with the remote, stroked the bonnet of the white Audi softly, and began to walk towards the restaurant. Robin followed him without a word, but Kieran held open the dove and gunship grey door of the restaurant for the boy. Robin didn’t smile as he passed him.

Kieran had no idea why the event was even required, and he spent the larger part of the evening sitting at a round table away from the centre of the gathering, sipping water out of a wine glass and eating canapés whenever they passed him by. The food was delicious, beautiful, and tiny. No single morsel was bigger than a fifty-pence piece, but each one made Kieran feel like he’d been punched in the face with flavour. He supposed that was the mark of a good chef.

Shastan had said the rehearsal dinner, and why, Kieran wondered, did they call it that when it wasn’t a rehearsal and it wasn’t really even dinner, would be family only. Such a tag meant that he and Shastan were the only tall, dark skinned figures in a group of Rebecca’s family. Her parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews and every member of close and extended family that Kieran could possibly think of filled the restaurant, and Kieran felt extraneous. It was only thirty people, all in all, but Kieran had no idea why he was even there. Shastan gave a speech thanking everyone, Rebecca gave a speech which was almost entirely drowned out by tears, and after that Kieran sort of tuned out a bit. In a quiet moment Shastan muttered in his ear something about settling the bill before Rebecca’s father put himself completely into his overdraft, and Kieran was standing at the high bar where the young Maitre’d would normally welcome clients to the restaurant, paying by a money order from the secure account on his phone, when he found Robin was standing quite close to him.

“Excuse me.” Kieran nodded to the chef who had come out of the kitchen to check on things up front, and shook his hand. “Thank you very much.”

The smiley man in the white jacket glanced at the settled bill and beamed.

“No, Mr Tristan Toyne, thank you.”

As Kieran stepped up to Robin’s back, he considered that by now on any normal night, he would have tried his best to proposition the chef and one of the fairly lovely waiters too. But this wasn’t a normal night, and all evening all that Kieran’s mind had been able to focus on was Robin and the way he looked in his half-a-suit, smiling for his sister and her happiness.

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“You look amazing.” Kieran smiled, the fingers of one hand itched to touch the boy, to snake around his waist or cup his pert rear. “Can I buy you a drink somewhere?”

“No.”

“Huh?” Kieran frowned, stunned. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean,” Robin keep his voice low, “that I do not want to go for a drink with you. Not tonight, not in the foreseeable future. Thank you and bye.”

`”But that’s not fair.”

“Sorry?” Now it was Robin’s turn to look befuddled.

“I made an effort.”

“Oh fuck…” Robin turned to him, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him from the restaurant. “You think I’m going to say yes to you just because you’ve been civil to me all evening?”

“I…”

“Sorry, I’m not in the habit of dating guys who assaulted me.”

“That was last week!” Kieran hissed from between clenched teeth.

“Exactly! It was last week.” Robin jabbed at his chest with one finger, and Kieran was surprised by how much it hurt. “Last week. Not last month or last year, but last week. I still have bruises, and you’re a dick if you think I’d look twice at you again.”

Kieran growled.

“You said I had to make an effort. I did.”

“Good for you.” Robin shrugged, like he didn’t care. “You had your chance, you blew it. I’ll get a lift home with my parents, thanks.” He pulled open the door again and turned away.

“You cannot just dismiss me like I’m not important!” Kieran demanded, but Robin had already gone inside.

Kieran gritted his teeth. He wanted the boy, desired him more than he’d ever coveted anyone, but he would not make a scene and beg for the kid’s forgiveness. Tristan Toyne’s didn’t beg for anything.

Your pride is going to make you miserable. His conscience muttered, and Kieran wondered exactly when his desire for Robin had tipped him over the edge into obsession and began talking to him.

“Bollocks.”