5

Dinner for Two

The restaurant was just around the corner, but they still got wet and very cold on the short walk. Floyd walked in front after giving Spencer strict instructions to keep behind him and at least five foot back and not more than ten.

'And I will check so don't even think about running away.'

Though why Spencer would run away Floyd didn't really know. He just had a strange inkling that Spencer wasn't totally happy about what was going on here. He had made sweet passionate love to him the night before. He'd given him a Christmas gift (which was more than Spencer thought of doing for Floyd.) He'd made arrangements for them to go out and somewhere nice (a table by the window.) Yet still Spencer had that look on his face which made Floyd want to kick him in the balls and remind him of how shit things could suddenly get if he didn't show love and appreciation for what he had in life.

Somewhere there were church bells ringing. Somewhere there were children singing songs. Somewhere families gathered and laughed and were jolly damned happy. Somewhere else though Spencer was seething with deep anger. He didn't want to wear this ring on his finger. Close, very close inspection had revealed that the small patterns around the object appeared to be some kind of writing. He'd asked about this and was again told he was ungrateful. He was reminded that he'd had a shower for him. He was reminded that Spencer was the one who had failed to keep a candle lit for him. He was told that he didn't need to carry…

'Put the fucking gun away Spence before I show you a very interesting place to conceal it.'

At least Floyd had actually booked a table and it wasn't just part of the delusion he seemed to live in. It was a small but expensive place and after coats were taken they were shown to a table just where Floyd had requested (demanded under threat when initially told it wasn't available.) The Maitre D – who had a split lip and a fading black eye led them to their place and asked what they'd like to drink. Spencer wanted mineral water and Floyd ordered them both a whiskey.

'I don't want alcohol.' Reid remarked.

'Don't be such a miserable arse Babes and have what I tell you. You seem to keep forgetting who I am.'

'Not possible to forget.' Spencer's eyes settled on the Maitre D.

There were "No Smoking" signs which obviously were ignored and though a couple of people took a couple of steps towards the two men sitting at the window no one actually said anything. No one thought that it was worth risking their jobs or even their lives to request that the psychopath put out his cheroot. A young woman with a frilly white pinafore produced a small glass ash tray though and gave both men a nervous smile and even oddly a small curtsy to Floyd.

Spencer would have liked the onion soup to start with, but Floyd insisted… very much insisted that Spencer had stuffed mushrooms. They were nice… he enjoyed them, but he would have preferred soup. Floyd had soup. He told Spencer how lovely it was. Floyd made a big deal about how nice it was in a voice which was a bit too loud. Reid wanted to ask Floyd to keep his voice down a bit, but didn't. It would look ungracious and he didn't want to look as though he didn't appreciate the food he had in front of him. Floyd drank too much. Floyd pulled a small twist of cellophane out of his pocket and put some grey powder on his thumbnail and snorted in front of the other people attempting to have fun on Christmas day. Floyd's voice got louder. The main meal was turkey with all of the trimmings. At least for Floyd it was. Spencer got boiled fish and mashed potatoes.

'I know how much you love fish.' Floyd told Spencer who looked down at his plate of pale food and felt sick.

'I like turkey too.' Spencer told him as he prodded the soggy fish with his fork. 'But yes I do like fish. Thank you.' He quickly added and slowly began to eat the disgusting tasteless muck on his plate. Voices around him began to get louder in a stupid attempt to drown out Floyd's continual babble of curse words and profanity.

'Well the fucking turkey is dry as priests arse. The vegetables are over cooked and…' He pushed his plate aside not even tasting one mouthful. '…your fucking buoyancy and happy demeanour has put me off my food. Waiter! More of this shit piss you call whiskey… Now!' And a hand in the air and a click of the fingers.

Spencer wanted to crawl under the table and hide from this. He had foolishly expected a nice quite meal. How could he have forgotten so quickly who and what Floyd was? He was sure he'd remembered fully when he'd come home only last night and found him sitting in his lounge. Yesterday night Spencer was only too aware of this loving caring attitude Floyd carried with him, so why did he forget again? Now his wish to be under the table altered to maybe hiding under someone else's table as Floyd's foot began kicking his shin – gently at first – and then when he got no reaction – harder.

'Stop it.' Spencer hissed in irritation. 'What's wrong with you? I'm doing everything you're asking me.'

Floyd stopped. At least for a minute. 'You're not smiling. Smile. Look happy for me.'

'It's not easy when you're kicking me under the table and shouting obscenities at everyone.' Spencer kept his voice low.

'I'm not fucking shouting! You snotty little up tight bastard!' Floyd shouted.

Spencer leaned across the table and wiped some grey powder off the end of Floyd's nose. 'You're high, drunk and obnoxious. I'll get up and leave if you don't calm down.' Spencer went to pull his hand back but much too late. Floyd already had a tight hold on him. 'Don't you fucking touch me.' He spat into Spencer's face. 'Don't you fucking touch me!' He now shouted at him as he planted a hand firmly in Reid's face and pushed him back away. 'Don't you ever fucking touch me unless I tell you to. Do you understand me you little bastard shit?'

Reid stood. His chair wobbled and fell back clattering to the floor. Floyd stood, he hooked his fingers under the edge of the table and tipped it forwards so that the plates and glasses slid smashing and splattering to the floor.

'I'm leaving.' Spencer turned and started to walk to get his coat.

'You're going to sit and eat your fucking food!' Floyd roared at his back. 'And didn't I tell you never to turn your fucking back on me? Who the fuck do you think you are?' He made a grab at Spencer's shirt, but his target slipped sideways out of his reach as he grabbed the proffered coat from the Maitre D who was only too happy to see them leave. 'Eat your damned dinner!' Floyd's voice was now the only thing to be heard in the small exclusive restaurant. The only other sound was the door opening and closing again as Reid walked out and into the bitter cold of Christmas.

'Who are you fucking staring at?' Floyd shouted at the other diners. He snatched his jacket from the hand which was offering it to him and walked out following Spencer into the wet street.

Reid knew Floyd would follow. He knew that he'd not be left in peace. He stood a few shops down and leant on the wall and waited. There was no point in trying to get away. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands. He knew that Floyd was standing in front of him. He could smell that dark smell wafting over him. He didn't need to open his eyes to know that he was there. Spencer looked down at his own hands and slowly pulled the ring off. 'That was a fine display. I hope you're happy.' He held out the ring. 'I don't want this. I don't want to play your games. I want to go home and go to sleep and wake up and discover that I've spent Christmas having a nightmare. I don't want any of this to be real. I don't want you in my life. I don't want you shouting at me and manipulating me and I am not going to resign from my job.'

Floyd looked down at the ring and snatched it back again. 'It wasn't for you anyway so no matter.' Floyd stuffed the ring into his pocket and then wiped his hand across his nose. 'I don't know why you always react in such a negative manner when we're in public. It's as though you're ashamed of me. You're not are you?'

Spencer looked up now. He looked at Floyd directly in the eyes, which was something he usually found extremely difficult to do. 'Ashamed? Didn't you hear anything I just said to you?'

Floyd shook his head. 'You were babbling. Shall we go have a drink?'

It was Christmas. Reid thought he should show some sort of pity towards this man who had lost his mind at some point. But the very last thing… one of the very last things he wanted to do was go out for a drink with him. 'I don't want to go have a drink with you Floyd. I want you to go away and leave me alone. Go back to whoever it is you've neglected for the past few days. Go back to Sam.'

Floyd shook his head. 'Cant really. You unwrapped the gift I got for him. I'll have to go back to your place and get the box anyway. I cant turn up empty handed now can I? You will resign. One way or another… I'll make sure of it. It's up to you how it's done. But I don't think they're going to want some lame geek fuck who beds psychopaths and helps wash off blood – concealing evidence? – and well that makes you as bad as me. Not that I think I'm all that bad really.' He reached for Spencer's hand. 'Back to our place then? We have wrapping paper? I'd like to wrap the box again.'

Reid pulled his eyes away from Floyd, turned and started to walk back to his apartment. He had a feeling that he should call someone, but he also had a deep nagging fear that things had already slipped too far. It was too late. The phone calls should have been made before he walked through his apartment door yesterday. It was too late now. Much too late. He could hear Floyd's footsteps behind him as he walked up the couple of steps in front of his apartment building. He punched in the security code and pushed open the door. He even stupidly stood there holding it open for Floyd. Little point in letting it close it would only cause more anger and Floyd was perfectly able to let himself in anyway. Today Spencer wanted to go by the elevator. It was a fine choice really – be stuck in an elevator for a couple of minutes or be chased up five flights of stairs. He pressed the button and waited. It was at the top. Ding ding ding… the doors swept open and Spencer stood doing nothing until a hand pressed onto his back and pushed him forwards and his only thought was that if they'd taken the stairs at least he could have screamed and hoped someone would come to his aid. The doors closed behind them and Spencer stood doing nothing. Floyd reached over and pressed the Stop button and grinned.

'Well.' He said as he pulled Spencer around to face him.

Spencer blinked once and shook his head. 'You can wait here. I'll go and get the box and bring it down to you.'

'I was thinking of…'

Reid put a finger over Floyd's lips. 'Don't. Whatever it is you have to say I don't want to hear it. I don't know why you came back and I wish you hadn't.'

Floyd grabbed Spencer's hand and pushed it away. 'Told you not to touch me and last night you weren't wishing I'd not come back. Last night… this morning…'

'You confuse me.' Spencer moved an arm around Floyd and pressed the button marked with the number 5. 'You can be the most loving wonderful person Floyd, but it's just a mask. The real you… the real you is what was in the restaurant and that Floyd is not someone I'm going to risk ruining my life for.'

'You washed blood off me last night. You…' He prodded Spencer in the chest. '…you washed an innocent man's blood out of my hair. You tasted him on my skin and in my mouth.'

'No.' Spencer hissed back as the elevator slowly made its way up to his floor. 'No.' He repeated.

Floyd moved away from him and pulled the ring out of his pocket. 'Here – it's yours. Really it's yours. Sam has one with a little diamond set into it. This is yours.'

Ding and the doors opened and Spencer walked out and down the passage towards his door. He didn't take it. Oh he wanted to. He desperately wanted to believe Floyd. He wanted to think that the blood had come from somewhere else. He wanted to think that the performance in the restaurant hadn't happened. He walked into the apartment again holding the door for Floyd. Again knowing that there was no point in trying to keep him out. The door closed. He heard the locks being put in place. He walked to the mess which had once been his lounge and flopped down still in his coat onto his chair and put his left hand out.

'Do you know how much I want to believe you?' Spencer said almost in a whisper. 'Do you have any idea how much I need you? But I cant live like this Floyd.'

'Then we'll move. A small house… a pretty red front door… roses…' He slipped the ring back over Spencer's finger. 'But that'll have to be after the holiday. I was thinking a small cottage.'

'There will be no vacation Floyd. You cant move back in here. I have to go to work.' He wrapped his arms around his chest and looked down at his knees.

'I'll write your resignation letter. I'll book us a vacation in a small cottage in the woods… next to a lake?' Floyd knelt on the floor in front of Spencer.

'No. I like my work. I don't want a vacation with you in a cottage. How many times have we attempted to do that and how many times has it turned out to be nothing more than a series of nightmares. I don't want to go to the woods with you. I don't want to stay in the middle of nowhere by a lake which will undoubtedly have dead fish floating on it. I am a city boy. I like streets and lights and noise. If you want to take me on vacation somewhere then make it a city. I'm not prepared to forgo my sanity staying where I don't want to be. I enjoy my work. I want to work. I like who I work with. They are like my family Floyd, I cant just walk away from them.'

'Yet they walk away from you. Where are they today? This wonderful family of yours? Where are they and where am I? You have no idea what I've risked and what I've given up to be with you for this week. No fucking idea.'

He did have no real idea… though someone else was beginning to realise it.

The Rat in the Presbytery

It was Christmas. They were feeling somewhat lenient. Which was unfortunate for the young man who had taken the trouble to smash a car window outside the police station. They took his name. They took an address and they kicked him out into the cold and icy rain. It wasn't what he had expected or wanted. He'd wanted to be thrown in the cells. He'd wanted a mug of coffee and to be questioned for hours on end by some do gooder. But no… it was Christmas… 'Go home. Expect a call to your parents.' And he was out on the streets again. The car had been covered by a blue plastic tarpaulin and he considered ripping it off and … he didn't know what else… there was one other place to try and now wet to the skin, and shivering and with his cracked lips beginning to bleed (not that the cops gave a shit) he walked down the road towards the church.

It was Christmas. The busiest time of the year for a catholic priest (so he'd been informed) and there was a scurry of people just exiting from the building when he arrived. There was a cute little Christmas crib set up by the doors and he crouched down in front of it and peered inside. He wanted to reach in and snap the heads off all the little people, but he didn't. He did though reach in and take one of the sheep. He turned it over in his hand. A tiny little cheap plastic object which wasn't really that much of a sheep when held up close. He considered putting it back but didn't. Something else caught his attention and he stood slowly and dropped the thing to the floor at his side. At first he didn't move. He just stood and watched Father Green talking to the parishioners as they left the building in their bright coloured coats and glittery ear rings which made his ice cold fingers twitch in their need to rip them out of the ear lobes and have for him own. There was a group of children holding dolls and toys which they'd opened that morning. Kids who got gifts left under trees or in sacks at the foot of their beds. It irritated him that they could be so shallow when he him self was so in need of something… anything.

He waited until nearly everyone had drifted away and then taking a deep breath walked over to Father Green.

'Hi.'

The priest's eyes went wide and then narrowed. 'What are you doing here?' It seemed that they knew each other and the priest didn't appear to be too happy about this. 'I'm busy.' He sighed.

'Well I got sort of arrested and needed to give an address and then I was told to go home. And I gave them the address off the Presbytery and I don't want to keep going breaking the law… not on Christmas day. And I know how much you like to help poor motherfuckers like me who have no where to live. I know how accommodating you are and so here I am. I only want to stay for dinner and maybe have a nap.'

The priest took the young man by the arm and led him towards the door of his small house which stood next to the ugly modern church. 'You cannot stay here. I'll give you something to eat, but you must wait here.'

'You don't understand.' He grabbed the priests arm tightly. 'I'm going to die of the fucking cold if I don't get some dry clothes on. I'm wet through. You got to let me in. How would it look when people see you turn me away?'

'There's no one left to see. Wait here.'

'I'll cry rape. I'll tell everyone what you did to me.'

The priests face paled. There didn't seem to be any denial in the expression, just horror. He opened the door and walked into the warm comfort of his small house. 'There is Gerda in the kitchen. She will get you something to eat.' The words were more of a warning that there was someone in the house then a genuine offer.

'I can be quiet.'

'Gerda!' The priest called. 'Sam is here. Can you quickly get him something warm to eat?'

'Hiding behind the skirts of a woman. Why am I not surprised. My mouth hurts. I want a drink. Dry clothes. A sleep and then I'll go… maybe… unless you have something else to offer me.'

'Go to the kitchen. I'll find you something to put on. You cannot stay. As I said this is my busiest day of the year. I need to work. I have to get back into the church. I have things to organise. People to talk to.'

'Young boys to fuck.' Sam whispered. 'Oh I could get you into so much trouble! So shall I strip off here or go to my room?'

The priest grabbed Sam by his arms and looked into his face. 'You do not have a room here. As I said I will get you something dry to wear and you can get something to eat from the kitchen. You cannot and will not stay. Where is your friend? Cant he help you out?'

Sam slapped Fr Green's hands away from him. 'Well he didn't turn up. I waited and waited. The fucking Shelter wouldn't let me in and yes I did go there.' He pulled out the bits of paper he'd been given. 'See? I went there. They said I had to be clean and dry. I got a cup of fucking chicken soup. Where the hell is all the good will towards men and crap you preach? Where's that gone? You cant do what you did and then expect it to just go away! You cant expect me to just disappear. It's not like it was a one off either! You asked me to come back!'

He was dragged into the small lounge and the door was quickly closed. 'Keep your voice down.' Green hissed at him. 'You're a mess. Such a terrible mess.' Warm priestly fingers touched the side of Sam's face. 'I want to help.'

'You want to help yourself. It makes you feel good.'

The priest moved his hands down to Sam's shoulders. 'I want to help you. Go to the bathroom. I'll leave clothes outside for you. Then come down to the kitchen. I have to go. I cant stay talking to you.' Now the fingers were brushing at Sam's hair. 'Go. Please. Please try not to be here when I get back.'

Sam reached up for the priests face but the man moved away quickly and was gone back through the door and to the church which no longer felt like the place he should be. He felt as though he was cheating the people. He was false. He was a fake. He was sure they'd see through his charade one day. He would damn Sam to hell but he had a good feeling that had already been done.

Words Spinning Around in Reid's Head.

They had nuts. A bowl of them on the table which was hardly recognisable as Spencer's anymore. It was covered in sticky puddles of mess which had then been covered in cheroot ash. They bowl had been full and now was only half full. Floyd sat at the end of the couch wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a hoodie which Spencer had bullied him into putting on. Reid was wearing jogging pants and an over sized sweater. He was reading from the book which Floyd had scrawled in all those years ago, which on one hand was a lovely thing to do and on another had defaced the book and dropped its value to the point that no serious collector would be interested in it. It didn't matter though. Spencer had no intention of ever getting rid of it. He was reading quietly… every now and then he fell silent and the pages began turning rapidly. Floyd would put out a hand and stop him.

'You're doing it again. Read… aloud.'

Spencer smiled and turned back the pages. 'It takes so long to read aloud.' He sighed. 'I get irritated at the slowness.'

'But though I can tell when you're lying to me and where you've been, I cant actually read your mind with so much accuracy that you don't need to speak.'

'Sorry. I'll start again.' He placed a finger at the point he needed to start from.

Floyd snatched the book away. 'I'll read. You go make more coffee.'

Spencer wriggled sideways to look at Floyd better. 'I'm concerned.' He started.

'Well that's nice, but I can manage to read and not explode. Coffee babes please? Headache… and I don't want to bleed all over the book and I don't want to snort and get pissy with you again.'

'You were already pissy with me as you put it, before you snorted your wonderful stuff. It's not your reading I'm concerned about. I know you can read.'

Floyd slammed the book shut and nodded. 'Well yes… Spencer it was a joke. The headache isn't though, so what are you concerned about?'

Spencer just sat looking at Floyd. He was actually enjoying himself now. Now that there was no one to overhear Floyd's comments or see what was going on. When life was like this, life felt good. 'Things you said.' He said and then licked his lips.

'Well I've said a lot. Which bit don't you like?'

He could have said 'All of it.' But held back and tried to loop his way through it all and pick out the one thing which was bothering him the most and felt he couldn't put it into words. He was bothered that a young man was out on the streets waiting for Floyd to go to him. That bothered him, but now he didn't want Floyd to think that it had even crossed his mind. 'There are… There's…' Fiddle fiddle. 'Floyd.' Spencer shrugged. 'Why are you here?'

'That old chestnut again? Because I like you. I like your smell, the way you walk, your voice, your mouth, your ar…'

'I meant why are you not with…'

'Sam? He'll be fine. Expect he's found somewhere warm for the night.'

'You expect? He could be freezing to death. He's just a child.' Spencer took hold of Floyd's hands. It seemed OK again to touch him without being invited to.

Floyd looked down at the hands which were holding tightly onto his. He had his Spence back. For a while back there he thought he'd messed everything up again. He thought Spencer was going to call the cops on him. But now things were good once more. Spencer had that rich sweet smell about him and his soft hands were clutching hold of his. 'He's not a child Spence. I told you that. He's likely gone somewhere where he's been before. A whore house or slut shop or something. There's plenty in the city. He'll find somewhere to stay. And don't harp on about it being Christmas, I doubt Sam's even noticed. There's plenty of friends he can go to. He doesn't need me.' Floyd closed his eyes for a minute and then sighed. 'You know I said about him having a ring with a small diamond set in it?' Spencer nodded. 'Well it's much like my lighter. It follows him around and it's also kind of like a tracking device. I can locate him via it if needs be. Now I can also tell if he's in pain. I feel it. He's not. Actually he's not even hungry or cold. So we don't need to worry about him. All you need to worry about is that my head feels bad and my nose is going to bleed soon and blood is fucking hell to get out of leather.'

Spencer released Floyd's hands and stood. He then asked something which would hopefully let him know if Floyd was being honest with him. 'Do you promise? Do you promise that by me letting you stay here I'm not putting the boy's life at risk?'

Floyd smiled. 'Sam's life is not at risk. He is warm and fed and reasonably content. I promise. If you want tomorrow we can go looking for him.'

Reid walked back a few steps still facing Floyd. 'If he's OK then it's not necessary.' Another few steps back. Damn… it felt as though he needed to bow before he left the room. 'Coffee then.' He spun and walked quickly from the room.