Chapter Six Dulled Wine

Chapter six

Dulled Wine

Jayden worked his candy-cane socks off for the rest of the week.

Surprisingly, so did Rick.

Emily’s warning worked. Rick had embodied Santa Claus. Became the Father Christmas to rival all Father Christmases. Having delved deep into his RADA training, Rick had formed a bubble around himself and become the part . The children loved him. The parents commended him and Jayden…well, he’d already liked him, but was now kind of enthralled by him and was watching him closely to see how he worked.

He knew this was only a mall grotto and not a stage, but it meant the same.

Rick had also turned up each morning freshly washed, smelling of toothpaste and spicy cologne rather than remnants of whisky and smoke. He washed up good. More than good. And Jayden had sneaked a peek or two whilst they changed, giving Rick a return show by peeling his clothes off with deliberate leisure. Rick liked what he saw. That was obvious. But he wasn’t making a move. Top gentleman. That just spurred Jayden’s attraction more.

They’d eaten lunch together, too, in their own enclosed hideout of the workshop, with Rick always having something extra he didn’t want so he could give it to Jayden. The food, along with the company, had been much needed. Because, by Saturday, as the weight of exhaustion pulled at Jayden’s eyelids, his funds had dwindled to three pounds fifty before his student overdraft would either prevent him from getting any cash out or charge him an extortionate amount he didn’t have. Panic clawed at his chest. How would he get through the weekend with zero funds? He was already living on economy grade pasta and grated cheese each night.

Then when peeling off the green elf suit at the end of his shift on Saturday night, conflict hit when Rick, still half Santa Claus with beard dangling from his neck, top half free of the padding to reveal his mature yet not quite dad-bod torso, baggy red trousers hanging low on his hips, asked,

“Fancy a drink to celebrate our first successful week?”

Jayden’s fingers fumbled with his costume as he hung it on the hook, then stepped into his jeans. “Uh…” He’d have jumped at the chance if he didn’t have less than four quid to his name. Which wasn’t even his three-pound fifty. It belonged to the good people of HSBC, who’d lent him the two grand overdraft and was in danger of going into their no-return red zone.

“Come on, theatre tradition.” Rick shucked down the red trousers, and Jayden desperately tried to avert his gaze by shoving on his hoodie.

When he’d popped his head through and ruffled his hair, Rick was dressed and awaiting his reply. How could he say no? After Rick had bucked his ideas up? Not to mention how he only had an empty university campus to go home to on a Saturday night. Company would be nice. More than nice when it was Rick Thornton. But he had zero cash and couldn’t expect Rick to pay.

“Didn’t I say lay off the drink?” Jayden kept his voice light, not to come across as an outright rejection.

“And I have done. All week.” Rick slipped into his coat, doing up the buttons, then wrapping an oversized scarf around his neck to look every bit the charming thespian he was. “As well as abstaining from elf-pleasure.”

Jayden’s stomach fluttered at the suggestion and his lips curved into an involuntary smile. “As you should. It’s better with two.”

“And, well, I only come once a year.”

Jayden breathed out a laugh. Oh, God , how could he turn this man down? Loosened up, he was everything Jayden craved. “Give me two minutes, yeah?” He then ducked out from the workshop, skated through the makeshift North Pole to the end of the grotto, where he fished out his phone and called Nita.

She answered, but there was loud music in the background, suggesting she was out with her friends in Birmingham. “Hey there Legolas. How’s the first week run?”

“Was good. Look, I can hear you’re out so this’ll be quick. Is there any chance you can spot us a few quid ‘til next week?”

“Hang on.” Nita moved from wherever she was, the background noise of laughter and chatter fading. “Sorry, I’m out with my old school mates. Been day drinking.”

“Sounds fun. Sorry to interrupt—”

“It’s fine. You okay, though?”

“Yeah.” Jayden rubbed his forehead. “I’m just really short of cash and been invited for a drink. I should at least pay for one…”

“Oh, yeah,” Nita’s voice lilted in intrigue. “Who’s invited you out?”

Jayden bit his lip to curtail the grin. “Rick.”

“Santa? Mr moody pants Santa?”

“Yeah, but he’s loosened up, and I’d like to go with him but not sure he’s a pound a pint down the SU kinda bloke, y’know?”

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, a knot of anxiety twisted in Jayden’s chest. She’d tell him not to go. She’d warn him off. Tell him the same as his social workers had. Remind him how dating older men was a fetish and a consequence of his daddy issues and how he, consistently seeking toxic relationships, was going to put himself exactly where he didn’t want to be—alone or attached to someone financially without the ability to leave.

But then Nita laughed, bright and unburdened. “I’ll bet he ain’t,” she said. “How much do you need?”

“Thirty quid?” With that, he could get a couple of drinks and maybe even one of those microwave full roast dinners for tomorrow.

“I’ll transfer forty, just in case.”

“You sure? You got that?”

“I’ll get it from my dad.”

“Thanks, Nits. You’re a lifesaver.” Gratitude laced his words, despite the unrelenting jealousy gnawing at him. Something so simple, so easy for others just wasn’t available to him. Parental support and backup, no matter what.

“Better hear all about it tomorrow,” Nita said. “Your mission is to find out what that scandal was. ‘K?”

“I’ll do my best.” Jayden cut the call, spine tingling as warm breath trickled down the back of his neck.

“Everything okay?” Rick was behind him. The breath was his. The tingles were all for him.

Had he heard, though? Had he heard Jayden begging for money? How humiliating. But when Jayden twisted to face him, there wasn’t anything hidden in his expression to suggest pity. So Jayden slipped his phone in his back pocket, the ding of a notification to let him know money was in his bank. “How about that drink?”

Rick broke into a smile as warm as mulled wine. “I know the perfect little spot.”

“Let’s get the elf out of here, then.”

Rick’s laughter bubbled in Jayden’s chest and he meandered toward the mall exit, stomach fluttering like a nervous moth trapped within his rib cage.

Different season, perhaps? That was more Halloween.

Okay, like a robin redbreast trapped in a birdcage.

* * * *

A short stroll, side by side, navigating the throngs of people spilling out onto the streets of London for a Saturday night in December, and they were into Old Compton Street in Soho, neon lights flickering overhead illuminating their path with an artificial glow. Festive cheer ricocheted down each alley, where people hunched around the entrances to independent bars and restaurants.

“Where we going?” Jayden asked, apprehension for being in this part of London. It might well be the gayest part of the city, and Jayden was familiar with it, considering his university wasn’t too far away and he’d roamed the gay-friendly haunts often enough, spending many a Pride Parade here, but it was also home to the city workers. The ones who earned a fuck-ton of money.

“Just up here. Frith Street.” Rick’s voice was rough around the edges, as though he’d shed the actor and was now himself, delightful Yorkshire tones dancing on his tongue. “It’s an upmarket wine bar. One of my favourites.”

Jayden gulped. Upmarket meant exclusive. Expensive . Not a place where people wore hoodies and jeans, wrapped up in a puffer jacket and beanie hat. Still, Rick didn’t seem put off by Jayden’s casual urban style. So Jayden closed off his disconcerting fish-out-of-water feeling and stamped through the entrance to a quaint boutique basement wine bar as if he frequented it regularly. Rick exchanged words with a member of staff and he led them through the bar where glass displays of wines upon wines decorated the walls. Class consciousness hit him in spades then. But out of place was his default. And he was trying hard to rid that chip on his shoulder. Still, men looked at him differently here. But Rick hadn’t batted an eyelid, so he shouldn’t, and at their table, Rick shed his coat and scarf, offering Jayden the seat opposite.

Jayden sat, his puffer coat bunching up, and peeled off his beanie as the server offered him and Rick a leather padded wine list. Leather padded meant the things within were items to be perused. Not gorged on. Jayden would have whistled, but he was too busy baulking at the price list. The cheapest glass of wine was ten quid. A bottle, forty.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck, fick, fuck. Fuck, fuck all the way…

“Do you drink red?” Rick asked as his eyes scanned the menu.

“Uh…” Jayden desperately tried to locate a red wine that was affordable, and Rick peered over the leather to cock his head in expectation. So he smiled and threw out the stupid, “Sure.”

“Great.” Rick handed the menu to the server. “Could we get a bottle of the Chianti Classico, please?”

Jayden skimmed the menu. Sixty-five quid for one bottle of red? Was he having a laugh ?

“You’ll thank me for that,” Rick said, confidence exuding from his maturity.

Hard to believe that this man who had bundled into the shopping mall a week ago, unshaven, unkempt and bordering on alcoholic, who had then plastered on a puffed out red Santa suit, was the same man exuding a presence of compatibility among men who drank sixty quid bottles of wine of an evening.

“Are you not staying?” Rick pointed to Jayden’s zipped up puffer jacket.

“Uh…yeah, it’s just…” He glanced around at the other patrons, then dipped forward across the table to lower his voice. “This ain’t really a hoodie and jeans type of place. I should’ve got changed.” Into what, he wasn’t sure.

“Into your elf suit?”

“Ha, yeah, trying not to draw any more attention to myself. Already scaring the white people.”

Rick chuckled. “You’re the most striking thing in here. Whatever you’re wearing. Own it.”

Jayden lifted. Inside and externally. As though Rick just hoisted him onto a pedestal. He smiled, then unzipped his jacket and wriggled out of it to slap it on the back of his chair. The server returned with the wine, showing the bottle to Rick. He nodded, and the server uncorked it, then offered a little for Rick to taste. He did. Like he fucking owned it. Then, after the two glasses were filled, Rick held his up to Jayden.

“To being your true elf.”

Jayden snorted and clinked his glass with Rick’s. “Sleigh my name.”

Rick licked his lips, the purple already settling and inviting. “So tell me what got you here. London. University .”

“Well, you already know I was in care. In London most of my life. Several homes. One stint in Essex with a foster carer that didn’t work out. Always knew I wanted to do something with my life. And you get a lot of people discussing your options around tables when you’re in care. Loadsa organisations, charities, offering their two pennies and all. My panel told me to try for uni. Had the grades. Was also into am dram. Suggestion was to audition for drama school. Knock backs were hard, but ULC accepted me on their Drama course along with a decent package of benefits for being a careleaver. So I did that. Graduate next year.”

“Then what?”

“Fuck knows.” Jayden laughed. “Fending completely for myself then.”

“Do you not know your parents at all?”

“I know my mum. But I’ve not seen her in a few years. She’s unstable. Mentally.” Jayden drank from the wine that was, as he’d expected, delicious. Warm, smooth, violet and spice atop juicy cherry. “My dad could be anyone though. Blank space on the birth certificate and my mum can’t remember.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jayden shrugged. “Is what it is, right?”

“How long were you in care?”

“Bounced around from her to social services for the first seven years of my life before the courts ruled her unfit. Then I bounced around foster carers until I was fifteen when it was obvious I wasn’t gonna find a forever family, and ended up in a halfway home in North Woolwich. Stayed there until eighteen and got into Uni.”

“I imagine that was tough. Being in a children’s home.”

“It was all right. Better than some of the foster homes. And when there’s fifteen of you bunched together, you form a bond. It’s like I had siblings for a while.”

“Is that why you’re so good with kids?”

“Yeah, I guess. Was a bit of a big brother.” Jayden smiled. “Gave me a purpose, y’know? Made me step up. Be a role model to the little ones.”

“You could have ended up so different.” Rick sipped from his wine, eyes fixed on Jayden, as if studying him. Like a customer would peruse a rare gem in an antique shop.

“What?” Jayden tilted his head.

“You’re remarkable.”

“I’m practical.”

“And always so positive about everything. You don’t seem to harbour any bitterness for what happened to you.”

“What’s the point of dwelling on shit you can’t change? I focus on what I can change. Me. Only me. And who I am to other people.”

“That’s…an exceptionally mature way of looking at things.”

“Not sure that’s a compliment.”

“Oh, it is. Believe me, not everyone finds it easy to brush off inequity.” Rick sipped from his wine, glancing away as if running through his own shit. Then, when he came back from wherever he’d been, he edged forward, lacing his voice with a casual seduction that went straight to Jayden’s cock. “So, who are you to me?”

Jayden swished his wine. “Who do you want me to be?”

Rick held his gaze, and it was solidifying. Jayden hadn’t ever felt bonded to anywhere or anyone before. But right then, he was glued to that spot.

“Best save that for another time,” Rick said, glancing around the bar and swishing back his wine with a look in his eye that had Jayden’s jeans a tad uncomfortable.

This was going well.

But he still knew nothing about the bloke. So he asked, “What about you, anyway?”

“What about me?” Rick suddenly backed off, finishing his glass and refilling his and Jayden’s. If this was how quickly he drank, Jayden was going to need a damn good excuse not to get the next bottle. Even a glass would dent his already diminished borrowed cash.

“You’re from Yorkshire, I know that.”

“Little village called Dore.”

“Can’t imagine there’s too many people like me there.”

“Sadly not.”

“What brought the little Yorkshire boy to the big smoke?”

“The bright lights of the theatre. Came to London to when I was accepted to study at RADA, then was lucky enough to land roles after graduating. Good roles. Had a good run of it, some might say.”

“Some do say.” Jayden raised his glass in a toast. “What happened?”

Rick inhaled, eyes down on his glass as if it held all the answers. “ Shit happened.”

“As it always does.”

Rick closed his eyes and Jayden could sense he was losing him to bad thoughts.

“I read a bit about you last year.”

Rick flicked his eyes open, and horror had replaced the seduction within them. Jayden hated that. So he rushed out more.

“Nothing bad. Just that you’d sort of vanished cause something happened. Kinda cancelled.”

“I cancelled myself.”

“Why?”

Rick sighed. “It’s a long story. One I’m not sure I want to relive when I’m having a rather nice time with you.”

“But…you’re okay?”

“I’m getting there.”

As much as Jayden wanted to find out more, for his own sake and not Nita’s, he hated that look on Rick’s face. Just when he’d made inroads to breaking down his walls, he didn’t want to rebuild them, so he changed the subject.

“All right. Favourite play you were in.”

Rick smiled as if he appreciated the change and the chance to shine. “Well, it had always been The Shadow . A small production off-West End. Great cast. Felt like family. Always makes you do your best work when surrounded by people you like and admire.”

“Is it not anymore, then?”

Rick raised his glass to his lips. “Now, I rather think it’s Othello .”

Jayden breathed out a smile, nodding in agreement.

And it went like that for a while. Questions of no actual substance batted at each other. Warm and comfortable. Jayden liked Rick. A lot. The real man beneath the persona was funny. Fascinating. Suggestive and seductive. Jayden could stay there all night listening to tales about Rick’s time in the theatre. Even the ones out of it. He had a way of storytelling. A way of captivating him, even when reeling off the intricate of details. And he spoke with elegance and awe. Comedy and tragedy. With his Yorkshire accent thickening on each quote, layers shedding with each story.

But the inevitable end of the bottle happened and Jayden’s gut twisted when Rick went to wave a hand and said, “Another?”

“Uh…actually, I’m pretty beat. Should call it a night.” Jayden witnessed the drooping of Rick’s shoulders, crestfallen. “It’s been great and, yeah, let’s do it again.” Preferably after pay day. “But my one day off tomorrow I have to spend with my head in books trying to complete an assignment due in January…” He was giving way too much backstory and excuse, so he shut up. “Sorry. Another time?”

“Another time.”

Jayden hated that downtrodden reply, but what could he do? He couldn’t afford to drink here and nor could he invite Rick back to his poky halls to drink tap water tasting of metal. Rick had to simmer for a while for Jayden to save up the funds and treat him to a night like the one he’d given him. Or things weren’t fair.

Jayden hated power imbalances.

So he threw on his coat and they had to do an awkward goodbye outside on the pavement with neither knowing whether to hug or kiss or shake hands. Eventually, Jayden pulled Rick in and kissed his cheek beneath snowflakes fluttering onto his eyelashes.

“Thanks,” he whispered into his ear. “For the drink and the night. I had fun.”

He then stepped back, pulled on his beanie hat for his curls to drape into his eyes, and gave him the most winning smile he could muster, indenting dimples into his cheeks. An ex had once told him his dimples were to die for. Course, the bloke then fucked off, but Rick remained where he was.

So Jayden had to force himself to shove his hands in his pockets and dip into the night, leaving warmth and possibilities behind to go back to cold, barren loneliness.