Chance to Be King (15 page)

He stretched lazily, easing out the kinks in his muscles as he watched Thomas tuck his prick into his boxers and zip his pants.

"'Bout another hour. Then we can stay for a drink and leave before the evening crowd gets in." "You don't want to spend the evening here?"

Thomas shook his head, a frown marring his forehead. "Think I'd better do some calling around if I'm coming to LA with you." The look he gave Eric plainly said, '
don't make anything of it'.

Eric could do subtle. He nodded and said, "I'm glad you're okay with the idea." Then he grabbed hold of Thomas' arm and wrapped him into the tightest embrace he could manage, ignoring Thomas' fake coughing. He could do subtle; he just chose not to.
There was a knock on the door.

"You boys all right? Thelma said she heard yelling." Bob's voice came through the wooden door.

"She was probably standing at the door, listening in," muttered Eric, "We're fine, Bob," he called out.

"Ready for round two?" he asked Thomas. "Is your ass?" Thomas leaned back in Eric's arms, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Eric's ass sent up a white flag of surrender and he said hastily, "No, but the sooner we get out of here, the sooner I can get you home and fuck you."

"Again?" Thomas' eyebrow shot up.
"You complaining?"

Thomas shook his head. "Nope, but my dick is raw."

Eric pulled him out of the bathroom. As they walked back to the stage, Eric crowded up behind Thomas whispering, "Good thing it's your ass I want this time, then," and gave the aforementioned bodily part a firm pinch. Eric was
owed
that one.

* * * *

It was dark by the time they returned to the big house, and Eric was concerned that the dogs needed a walk to stretch their legs. They pulled up in front of the house and walked around, hand in hand again, to the kitchen door.

Thomas got out his keys. Normally he didn't bother locking the door but with Wayward in the area they didn't want to take chances. He fiddled with the lock for a few minutes.

"Just open the door already," Eric could hear the dogs whining on the other side of the door. He stopped as Thomas raised worried eyes to look at him.

"'Ric, the door isn't locked. I swear I locked it before we left."

"We need to leave here, Tom, and phone the police." Eric started pulling him away from the door but Thomas struggled in his grip.

"But the dogs…" he protested weakly.

Eric didn't loosen his fingers around Thomas' arm. "They're fine. We can hear them. Come on, we need to get Ted and Mark here now."

"But…"
"We're leaving now."
"I can't let you do that, Mr. Davies, I'm sorry."

They turned at the sound of the soft English accent. The man from their encounter at the lake was standing two feet away, a small pistol trained on Thomas' forehead. He waved the gun at the door.

"In you go."

There was a man facing them with a gun trained at his lover's head and all Eric could think was what would the script say? Of course, if he really was an action hero rather than an overpaid actor he would be able to overpower Wayward, wrestle the gun away from him, and tie him up all before the cops turned up.

Of course, he thought wryly, he would also be running around in a filthy wife-beater and bare feet. His feet were like leather underneath after all the films he'd made. Now wasn't the time to ask if he could go and change first.

"'Ric?"
"Mr. Davies?"
Eric looked up to see both men staring at him.

"Are you all right?" Thomas' hand was on his arm and he had a concerned expression on his face.

The guy had a gun pointing at his head and he was worrying about him? Eric nodded at him and covered Thomas' hand with his. "Yeah, 'm fine. Sorry."

"Now that we've established that, can we get on with this, please?" Wayward gestured impatiently to the closed door.

Stepping forward, Thomas opened the door. Both dogs bounded at them, ecstatic to see them returning after being shut up all afternoon. They spotted the strange man and immediately started barking at him. Eric saw Wayward flinch but although the dogs were loud they weren't aggressive guard dogs. They were more likely to lick any intruder to death than protect him or Thomas.

"Ssshhh, guys, hush up!" Thomas reached out to calm them down, as he was first in through the door.

"Shut them up in the hallway," Simon Wayward pointed to Eric.

 

"They need to go outside for a bit. They've been in all day and won't settle." Eric said quietly.

He watched as indecision crossed Wayward's face. "Shut them outside then. They won't go anywhere with you here. And please don't think of performing any action man stunts. I'm a bloody good shot."

Eric went to protest but he caught Thomas' eye. He was pleading with Eric not to make a fuss, or get the man angry. Giving a slight nod to let Thomas know he'd received the message, Eric called both the dogs. They bounded over to him, excited by the prospect of a walk. He gave them both a stroke then opened the door, half-pushing them outside and shutting it quickly. The excited barks soon gave way to confused whining as they realized their owner wasn't following them into the cool night air.

"Sit down," Wayward pointed to the kitchen table and the men both sat, Eric pointedly bringing one of the chairs round so he could sit next to Thomas. He reached out and took Thomas' hand, feeling it cold and clammy under his.

"Sweet," Wayward sneered, and Eric wanted to punch the sneer off his weak face.

 

"What do you want?" asked Thomas in a low, calm voice.

"Payback."
Well, that was blunt enough.
"An eye for an eye?"
Wayward nodded. "If you like."

"Not particularly," Thomas said, and Eric felt the tension ratchet up several notches. He kept his hold on Thomas' hand and the thought crossed his mind that he would never let this man go.

"Let Eric and the dogs leave. They've got nothing to do with this."

 

"No, Tom," Eric started to protest but Thomas cut him off with a look.

 

"It's nothing to do with you, 'Ric. You nearly died in that fire and I'm not having you get hurt because of something that happened in my past."

"I'm sorry about that," Wayward interrupted, surprising them both with the sincere regret in his voice.

"What?"

"I thought the cottage was empty. It was just meant to frighten you," he said, looking at Thomas, "Not hurt anyone."

"It was empty up to the day before," agreed Thomas. "It's been a while since I rented out the cottage."

"You mean you two aren't…" Wayward paused, "…together?"

 

"We weren't until your little stunt."

Wayward looked frankly astonished and Eric began to realize this dude wasn't that well organized. In fact, he didn't seem to know shit about what he was doing except why he was doing it. Did that make him easier to get around, or more dangerous?

"Look…" Thomas started to say.

"No, you look," Wayward cut him off. For such a little man (little man with a gun) his voice was surprisingly deep and firm. "I don't bloody care who you're fucking but you're not leaving here to get the old Bill."

Eric was momentarily thrown by the English slang. "I wouldn't leave anyway."

 

"Eric," Thomas sounded completely exasperated now.

 

"Thomas, I'm not leaving, so shut up."

Eric saw the uncertainty as Thomas decided whether to bristle or not, and then the grateful slump of his shoulders as he realized he could let go, he didn't have to face this alone. Eric put his arms around Thomas' shoulders and looked at Wayward. "You say you want payback? His life for your sister's?" He felt the full-body shudder that went through Thomas, though he tried hard to suppress it.

"Seems a fair deal to me." Wayward was more relaxed now as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"He wasn't the one who hurt your sister." Wayward shrugged indifferently. "He was in the car. The driver's dead. Someone has to pay." "So you're picking on a seventeen year old kid in the car?"

"She was an eighteen year old smashed to death by a drunk driver!" Wayward shouted, his control slipping.

Thomas sighed, the soft sound making Eric turn to look at him. "She wasn't."

 

"Wasn't what?" Wayward asked, obviously as confused as Eric felt.

 

"Smashed."

 

"She was trapped in the car. Of course she was smashed."

Thomas shook his head, ignoring Eric's attempt to stop the conversation as it was provoking Wayward.

"She wasn't bleeding except for a scrape across her head. I talked to her. Everyone else was… busy… so I sat beside her and held her hand. We talked until she…" he caught his breath, "…lapsed into unconsciousness."

"Laura was talking?" Wayward's voice was thin, reedy, as though he was trying to hold back the emotion.

"She was," Thomas smiled at him, although Eric could see the tears threatening to spill, "She was complaining her chest hurt and that she was spiky and why did she have to go to hospital when she was spiky? I didn't get that and couldn't ask her before she…"

Wayward drew in a shuddery breath. "She'd forgotten to shave her legs. I always made fun of her spiky legs." His face went blank for a minute as if he was remembering such a memory but only for a moment, then he shook his hand as if throwing off a time when he was happy and his face hardened. "It doesn't change the fact that my sister is dead and no one paid for the crime."

"John Hayden went to prison. He paid his price." Thomas' voice was sharper, less defeated, and Eric cheered inwardly. He'd been worried Thomas would just blindly accept he was the one who had to pay for the accident.

"Not good enough," hissed Wayward, his thin face drawn in hateful lines. "He should have gone for life for killing Laura."

Standing up, Thomas shook off Eric's restraining hand. "It was an accident. He didn't mean to hit her."

"He was drunk and he never said sorry for killing her."

 

"He wasn't allowed to."

 

Eric's heart broke at the pain on Simon's face and the regret on Thomas'. There it was.

 

The whole crux of the problem.

"The police told my mum that her daughter was dead, and all she could think of was making sure the driver was all right. She wanted to talk to Hayden, to tell him she understood it was an accident. And then, and then, she found out he was drunk
and he never said sorry
."

Wayward was working himself into a rage. All the pent-up hatred and grief of the last eleven years finally allowed a chance to spew out. Thomas took a step forward as if to comfort the man but Wayward stepped back and steadied his hand with the gun.

"Sit down!"
"But—"
Eric stood up and pulled Thomas back to his

seat. "Sit down, Thomas. Come on." He coaxed Thomas to sit back down again and waited for the gunman to calm down. After a few minutes Wayward seem to relax again and Eric took the opportunity to ask a question.

"Why now. It's been over a decade. What have you been doing?"

"In and out of prison mainly; petty theft, assault, that sort of thing. I wasn't thinking about it much until Mum said it had been ten years since Laura was murdered by that bastard, and I thought if the law won't give us justice, I'll do it m'self. Then I found out the driver was dead and I thought as he'd escaped justice I'd go after the other two bastards in the car. The ones who refused to admit they'd seen him hit my sister."

"I was asleep." Thomas quietly pointed out. "So you say!"

"So why go after Thomas and not Kes?" Eric asked.

Wayward looked confused. "Who's Kes?" "Kevin Hayden," supplied Thomas.

"I did but he has kids. I pulled a few stunts, hurt their dog, but I couldn't take their Daddy away from the kids."

Thomas' eyes narrowed "But I'm expendable because I'm gay and don't have kids?" he asked bitterly.

Wayward looked startled, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "You're rich, you're famous, you've had a fantastic life and my sister is dead. Seems simple enough to me," he explained.

As he trotted out his rationale for hurting Thomas, Eric realized Wayward was completely convinced he was justified in his actions. Was the guy insane or just a murderer? The Mafia murdered people for less. Simon Wayward was hardly a Mafioso Don. He smiled to himself at the absurdity of that thought.

"You find my sister's death a laughing matter, Mr. Davies?"

"Eric. My name is Eric Pawlowski." corrected Eric, "And no, I'm sorry, Mr. Wayward, nothing about it is a laughing matter."

"Then I think we're done."

"So what now? You're going to shoot us and then what? The police know you caused the fire. You're going to be caught and then you're going to jail."

"I've done time before."

Thomas had been slumped in the chair, not really paying too much attention but now he looked up. "For murder? This isn't Britain. You could get the needle in this state."

There was a fleeting glimmer of panic across Wayward's face.

 

"You hadn't thought about that, had you?" Shrugging, Wayward said, "Whatever. My life ended when Laura died anyway."

"And if had been you? If you had been the one that died, would you have wanted her to give up on life?"

"Of course not, but she was special. Laura was brilliant. She was going to be a doctor. I was never like her."

"You were her older brother," Thomas said softly. "She would have wanted the best for you. Just like my little sister does for me."

For a moment Wayward paused. "You have a sister?"

Eric noticed this gave the gunman paused for thought and wondered if the concept of Thomas having a younger sister was enough to save him.

Thomas nodded at him. "I do. She's called Alex, Alexandra. She's still in Britain."

 

"You're lucky to still have her."

 

"He is, but he can't see her unless she visits him." Eric said.

 

A stunned look on his face, Thomas turned to look at him. "How did…"

He ignored the half-uttered question, turning instead to Simon Wayward. "I get that we can't stop you but before you do, I want you know a little bit about the man you're going to kill."

"This isn't
This Is Your Life
. I don't care who the fuck he is."

 

Eric ignored that as well. "You think your family were the only people affected by Laura's death?" "Eric, don't do this," Thomas pleaded. "It's not important."