Scrap, page 23
Screw it.
He’d just have to do it.
He made himself walk down the hallway and smile at Lisa, who buzzed him through.
“Ah, Grant. Just the man I wanted to see.” Cecil looked up from his newspaper and took off his reading glasses. “How’s the scrap yard buyout coming along?”
Grant shook his head. “I’m afraid our Mr. Nelson’s gone AWOL this last week, so I don’t have any good news there.”
Cecil scowled. “But you must have found out something we can use, surely?”
Grant paused. Maybe he could avoid selling Dare out and not tell Cecil anything. “Well, the PI I hired couldn’t find evidence of any illegal operations at the scrap yard, so that’s a dead end.”
Cecil drummed his fingers on his desktop. “Damn and blast. I suppose I’ll have to call in a favour from Dickie, then.”
“Dickie?”
“You remember I told you about him before? It always pays to know someone who’s well connected. Dickie and I play golf together, and although you’d never believe it to look at him, he employs the kind of men who’ll happily break Mr. Nelson’s fingers one by one until he’s signed that land over to us.”
Grant stared in horror. “You can’t do that.”
“Believe me, I’d rather not. Such a nasty way to do business. But all’s fair in love and war, and Grant, we really need a new project like this one. I had a video conference with New York last week. Apparently, we’ve got Allied Developments snapping at our heels, and there are rumours they want to make a takeover bid. I need to prove we can run operations here at a healthy profit, or my partners in the other offices might just decide they want to sell the company.”
“But that wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
Cecil harrumphed. “Not for you, perhaps, but the first thing they’ll do is amalgamate our offices with theirs, and you can bet the job losses will all be from here. Anyone over the age of sixty is likely to be sent packing. Even you might not be safe. I hear they have a strong team of senior sales execs.”
His mind working overtime, Grant weighed up the risks of telling Cecil something against keeping quiet. Betraying Dare’s secrets would be terrible, but so would condemning him to what essentially amounted to torture, no matter how Cecil tried to dress it up as a legitimate business practice.
And in the end, he couldn’t let a man he cared about suffer in that way. Not if there was anything he could do to stop it.
“I don’t think you need to speak to your friend just yet,” Grant said, pulling himself up to full height. “There is another avenue we could explore.”
“Oh yes. I’m all ears.”
“The last time I saw him, Mr. Nelson all but admitted he was living on the site. He has a caravan there, and it definitely looks like a full-time residence.”
“He lives in a caravan?” Cecil wrinkled his nose in distaste. “How positively dreadful.”
Grant wanted to punch the snobbery right out of that aristocratic nose. He wanted to defend Dare from Cecil’s prying, but he couldn’t go losing his job. Not with his daughters and wife to provide for.
“And could your PI confirm this information? We do have a home address listed over in Totterdown, don’t we? What about that place?”
Grant wasn’t about to sell out Dare’s family secrets. “The PI discovered Mr. Nelson rents that place out.” It might even be the truth. For all Grant knew, Dare’s brother paid him rent. “He couldn’t absolutely confirm that D—Mr. Nelson lives in the caravan, but we both think it extremely likely. I think a simple threat to reveal that to the council might well be a better prompt to get him to sell up. And you wouldn’t have burned through your favour with Dickie.” He tried to keep the contempt out of his voice, but he was sure some must have leaked through.
Cecil gave him a long, hard stare, and when he spoke, it was coolly. “Your recommendations have been noted, Mr. Matravers.” Ouch. He hadn’t called Grant that for years. “And I think you might have been getting too involved in this case. I mean, it’s one thing to get to know the client, but a good salesman won’t have an emotional investment in them. I’ll take over from now on. You concentrate on the Lansdown Development. They could do with you looking over the budget. You’ve got a good eye for that kind of thing.”
“But...” Grant’s jaw worked, but the words refused to come.
Cecil had already begun scrolling on his iPad screen. “Was there anything unclear about my instructions, Mr. Matravers?”
Grant swallowed down the lump of hatred that threatened to choke him. “No.”
“Then good day to you.”
Grant closed Cecil’s office door with an exaggerated slowness as a precaution against slamming it, but didn’t give his own the same careful treatment.
“For fuck’s sake!” he bellowed into the empty room before swiping a pile of papers off his desk and all over the floor.
He’d sold Dare out.
Dare was going to kill him when he found out. He wouldn’t want to be friends with a man who’d given up his secrets to the enemy. Fuck it. Grant was the enemy now. He’d gone and screwed up any chance the two of them ever had of making something work together.
And now that was off the cards entirely, Grant realised just how much he wanted to make something work.
But there was no chance of that now, and it had all been for nothing. Now Grant was out of the loop entirely—wouldn’t know what Cecil was planning—and had been given one of the most tedious tasks available.
There were still two and a half hours left before he could legitimately leave for a lunch break.
He couldn’t even go round and warn Dare about what was potentially coming his way, because the bloke wasn’t there.
But then again, Grant knew where Dare was, didn’t he?
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go barging into Dare’s fucked-up family life, but if the bloke wasn’t answering his phone, then maybe Grant had to.
Screw company policy on lunch breaks. He picked up his car keys and headed downstairs.
Chapter Thirty-One
By midday, Dare still hadn’t called Grant. He’d spent the morning getting back to work again—reminding himself where he was in all his current projects, and what still needed doing before the two vans would be ready for sale. But visions of Grant kept leaping up behind his eyes. It didn’t help that the vans still held a faint niff of sex in the air.
God, Dare was horny. He was just contemplating having a wank, when his phone beeped. A text from Jase.
Uh-oh. What the hell had happened now?
U better get round here. Now. Was all it said.
Fuck. What’s happened? You and Rain okay?
We’re fine. This is about you.
Dare rang the cryptic little bugger, but he wasn’t picking up.
Bleedin’ hell.
Grant would have to wait. Whatever this was, Dare needed to deal with it first.
DARE WAS STILL EXPECTING some kind of disaster to greet him when he reached the house, but Rain gave him a huge smile and a hug when she opened the door.
“What’s going on?” Dare demanded.
“Blimey, look at you!” Rain giggled. “It’s nothing bad. Come on through. I’ll get the kettle on.” She led him into the living room, and that was when he was greeted by disaster.
Grant. Sitting on the sofa. Drinking tea.
Dare stared, trying to make sense of his two worlds colliding. What the hell was Grant doing here, in one of his natty suits, sitting there next to Jase like it was some kind of polite little middle-class tea party?
“Hello,” Grant eventually said, giving him an awkward little wave.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Grant frowned, and although a part of Dare screamed at him to stop, he was angry and confused enough to keep going. “This is my private life. My family. What the hell gave you the idea you were welcome here?”
Grant plonked down his tea and got to his feet. “I apologise,” he said to Jase. “I didn’t realise I’d be causing this kind of a problem. I’ll be on my way.”
“The fuck you will,” Jase replied and turned to glare at Dare. “Chill, bro. Thought this was the bloke you were into, an’ all. He is, isn’t he? Talks like he’s well into you too.”
Rain took hold of Dare’s arm and steered him to his dad’s old recliner. “That’s no way to talk to our guest, now, is it? Why don’t you just sit down and hear him out? Me and Jase’ll just go out in the garden.”
“We will?” Jase squinted suspiciously.
“Yeah, we’ve got stuff to do out there, haven’t we? Weeding and shit.”
“First I’ve heard about it,” Jase complained, but he let himself be led out of the room.
Leaving just the two of them.
Dare crossed his arms. “Well?”
The look Grant gave him was distinctly sheepish. “I know you’re probably wondering all kinds of things right now, but please believe me, I wouldn’t have come here if it hadn’t been urgent.”
“What I’m wondering is how the fuck you even knew there was a here to come to in the first place.”
“This place is hardly a secret. We’ve had it on our records as your home address ever since I was handed your file.”
“My file?”
“For the land bid,” Grant explained, bringing back memories of their first meeting at the yard.
“Right. So that explains how you know about it. But what the fuck made you come here? I thought I’d made it bleedin’ well clear, my family is none of your business.”
Grant’s lips thinned. “There’s no need to be like that about it.”
“Like what? I’m not being any different to you. I didn’t notice you rushing to introduce me to your daughters.”
“I already explained about that. And besides, this isn’t about your brother or anything like that. I needed to get in touch with you, and you haven’t been at the yard or answering your phone.”
“So you thought you’d come snooping around my family?”
“No! I just... I thought you were here, okay?”
“Why, exactly?”
Grant developed a sudden fascination with the carpet. “It’s not how it sounds. I had to hire a private investigator to look into you. Not my idea, but Cecil insisted.”
“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.” Dare got to his feet. “So now we’re seeing your true colours, are we? So you’ve just been pretending to like me, when all you wanted was my land. I might have known it was too bleedin’ good to be true.”
Grant looked stricken, but Dare already knew he was an accomplished con man, so he wasn’t going to let himself care about that.
“You’re not listening to me,” Grant insisted.
“Give me one good reason why I should.”
“Because Cecil knows about you living at the yard! He’s going to try to force you into selling by threatening to shop you to the council.”
“And how the fuck did he find out about that, eh? I told you in confidence. I don’t fucking well believe it.” Dare shook his head, letting the anger rise, bitter in his throat. “To think I was starting to really care about you, and all the while, you were busy telling tales to your boss. Bet you were both laughing at me behind my back, weren’t you? Bunch of overprivileged cunts who think you’re better than the rest of us pond scum.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Now Grant was raising his voice too, anger overtaking the desperation. “If you’d just listen for a moment. I was protecting you. I had to give him something, or he was going to send round some heavies to make you sign.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dare spat out. “You don’t work for some kind of gangland chief.”
“No, but he’s friends with someone who is. Could call in a favour. And I couldn’t bear that.” Grant moved towards him and grabbed Dare’s shoulder. “Couldn’t bear the idea of someone hurting you.”
“So you thought you’d do it yourself instead.”
Grant shook his head. “No. I’ve just been trying to protect you. And to keep your private life out of it. I could have told Cecil about your brother to get him off the case—he’d have had a field day with this place being little better than a crack den—but I respected your privacy. I wanted to keep your family situation a secret.”
“Yeah, you were so full of respect. Sneaking around with your private investigator and poking your nose where it wasn’t wanted. I can’t believe—” Dare choked on raw emotion. “Just get out. Now. I don’t want to ever see your lying face again.”
“Dare, please—”
“What part of get out didn’t you understand?” Dare walked right up to Grant, so worked up the smell of Grant’s aftershave inflamed his rage rather than his lust. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.” He shoved Grant in the chest.
Grant staggered, and for a moment, Dare thought he was going to fall. Good. He deserved a whole lot more than that, but it would be a start.
But Grant just raised his head and fixed Dare with a look that made his heart scream. “Say what you like. I know you’re angry right now, and I understand why. But please, don’t throw all this away.”
“All what?”
“What we have. You know, this thing we started.”
“There’s nothing to throw away, because we’ve never had anything. You were just a fuck, and not a particularly great one at that.”
“You care about me,” Grant insisted.
Fury made Dare cruel. “Nah, I just made it look that way because I wanted your arse. And I’ve had it now, so there’s no point you hanging around for more. I’m moving on to the next conquest. So unless you want me to carry you out of here kicking and screaming, you’d better clear off.”
“Fine.” Grant didn’t look fine. He looked every bit as hurt and angry as Dare felt. Good.
“Wish I could say it’s been nice knowing you,” was Grant’s parting shot, before he slammed the front door.
And Dare’s heart must have been trying to rush after him, because he could have sworn that door crushed the life out of it.
He collapsed onto the sofa and tried to remember how to breathe.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The letter arrived the following Monday morning, after the loneliest weekend Dare could remember in a long time. He’d been screening his calls, refusing to listen to the messages from Grant. And he didn’t want to see him either, so he’d taken a trip to the supermarket on Tuesday, stocking up enough food to last him for a couple of weeks so he didn’t need to leave the yard for any reason. He didn’t even venture out in sight of the front gate, just in case Grant happened to be waiting there for him.
Stupid, really, to flatter himself into thinking Grant even cared that much. No, he wouldn’t be there wanting to make things up to Dare. He’d just be wanting to make excuses and weasel his way out of feeling guilty. Dare hardened his heart and did his best to forget about Grant “Posh Suit” Matravers. They’d never had a future anyway. Dare had known that. And any stupid remnants of hope otherwise needed be squashed down, and eventually they’d die.
So he’d set out to harden his heart, but throwing himself into his work during the days and long evenings playing patience and petting Solly had a strangely therapeutic effect.
By Monday morning, he’d gained a bit of perspective. He woke in a meditative mood and took Solly for an early walk down to the river. It was a clear day, and the sky shone like mother-of-pearl, reflected back from the water’s surface. The whole world seemed bursting with possibilities, and he could almost breathe in spring on the cool air. Solly was going bananas, sniffing everything and generally scampering around like a puppy.
Dare crossed the Plimsoll Bridge, wanting a longer walk that wouldn’t take him past Grant’s house. He wasn’t quite up to dealing with the man just yet, but at least the thought of running into Grant didn’t make him angry anymore. It just made him sad.
He wandered along the old docks, past the grand bulk of the SS Great Britain. He hadn’t been on the old steamship for about a decade, and he’d heard the whole experience had been really tarted up. It was the kind of thing he’d love to do with Grant. If Grant was willing to be seen in public with Dare.
He sighed and carried on down the docks until the scent of bacon stopped him in his tracks. He’d forgotten Brunel’s Buttery opened so early in the morning. He ordered himself a bacon and egg butty, along with a mug of milky tea, and sat down at one of the tables on the water’s edge. The April air might have been chilly, but his walk had warmed him up, and he stripped off his jacket and turned his face to the sun.
Bright orange lit up the underside of his eyelids, and he found himself smiling for the first time since his bust up with Grant.
Okay, so Grant wasn’t perfect—Dare had always known that. Grant wasn’t even perfect for him what with the whole living in the closet and not allowing Dare access to any other parts of his life.
But maybe Dare had been doing the same thing. After all, it wasn’t like he’d introduced Grant to any of his friends, had he? And he’d been keeping his family situation a secret too.
Maybe they were just as bad as each other. And maybe they both deserved one last chance to put things right.
That was the way Dare was thinking when his breakfast arrived, and as he ate it—occasionally slipping a morsel to Solly under the table—he slowly came up with a short list of things they both needed to do to make a relationship work. He’d have no problem keeping up his side of it—depending on whether Grant demanded more, of course.
The question was, would Grant ever be willing to make any changes?
There was only one way to find out, really, and avoiding Grant wasn’t the way to go about fixing things.
Dare walked back to the yard with more purpose, hope blossoming inside him as surely as the trees were blossoming on the riverside. Yes, he could very well be setting himself up for a whole load more heartache, but if there was a chance of saving things, he had to at least try. Faint heart never won sexy bastard.
