Page 66 of The Question of Us
The group stood separate from the other partygoers, watching the antics in the pool as they talked and drank. The older men, bar birthday boy, were dressed in what I supposed would be labelled as resort wear—expensive loose linen trousers, casual shirts, and beachy-style jewellery, which no doubt cost a fortune. The younger man offered a contrast. He sported impossibly tight faded jeans and a slim-fitting white tank that finished just above the waistband and revealed a tempting sliver of youthful, tanned skin.Tootempting, judging by the reaction of the others who were practically salivating at the sight.
The queasiness in my belly shot up another notch just in time for Gazza to appear at Marty’s shoulder. The older man spun, and a wide smile burst over his face. He drew Gazza in for a very PG peck on his cheek that made me want to smack the arsehole into the next century. When he introduced Gazza to the rest of the group, I could almost hear the collective intake of lust from everyone except the younger man, who regarded Gazza with a petulant look that implied he didn’t appreciate the competition. I stared at his face, feeling an odd tug of familiarity.
Warning bells sounded in my head.
And there it was.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The realisation hit me like a sucker punch to the stomach. This was Lee’s brother, Aaron. It had to be. The resemblance was obvious—blond, slender build, around eighteen, and then there was all that porcelain skin. Lee’s cheekbones were a little sharper, his face more memorable, and this younger version lacked the swagger of his brother, but the similarity was undeniable.
Holy moly.I wondered if Gazza had any idea who he was standing across from. Gazza had only ever seen photos of Lee. He’d never met the man in person. I looked for any hint in his reaction that he’d made the connection, but there was nothing. Gazza appeared friendly but not flirtatious as he shook everyone’s hand, and for that I was thankful. There was something about this group of men that didn’t sit well. They were like a pack of hyenas circling a kill.
When Marty’s hand slid around Gazza’s waist and Gazza allowed it, I could only hope Gazza’s radar was as good as he’d boasted. If he read things wrong and overplayed his hand with this lot, he might be in serious trouble.
After shaking Gazza’s hand, Jacob made a gesture to his sash, crooked his finger, and the other men began a slow clap until Gazza finally stepped forward. He aimed a kiss intended for Jacob’s cheek but at the last minute, Jacob clasped Gazza’s jaw and crushed their lips together. Before Gazza could protest, Jacob grabbed his arse and yanked Gazza close enough to hump the startled man’s thigh.
“Why, you slimy piece of shit,” I fumed, white-knuckling the binoculars.
The performance was accompanied by hoots of laughter from all the other men bar Marty, who simply watched on in silence. Other partygoers turned to watch, drawn to the hilarity. Buteven though it was obvious Gazza was struggling to extricate himself from the man’s clutches, no one said a thing. Behaviour like this was clearly par for the course at one of Marty’s parties, a fact which didn’t bode well for our plan.
Regardless, I was taking fucking names. Because suddenly these weren’t a group of harmless middle-aged men freely indulging their whims on too much alcohol. The masks had fallen. There was a lot more going on here than we’d thought. These were dangerous men who felt entitled to take whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, even in a space with a ton of people watching on. None of these men knew a thing about Gazza and yet felt perfectly free and safe to treat him in such a fashion. It didn’t bode well. They clearly knew no one would call them on it, which meant the other partygoers were either too scared of Marty to speak up or they were complicit, or they were part of the entertainment. None of which was reassuring.
The sooner Gazza got out of there, the better.
Eventually Marty stepped in and pulled Gazza free with a warning look to the birthday boy. Jacob paled and raised his hands in apology, and I took the exchange to mean Marty had warned Jacob to keep his hands off what was his. It sent a cold chill down my spine, and it was all I could do not to race down and punch their lights out. All of them. I wasn’t fussy.
Unlike me, Gazza handled the situation much more calmly. He brushed himself off and wagged his finger at Jacob in a naughty-boy gesture that started everyone laughing again. To those who didn’t know Gazza like I did, he likely appeared nothing more than amused by the rude affront. But I knew better. The set of his jaw and the distance he put between himself and Jacob told me Gazza understood things had taken a turn and that he was going to have to use every wile in his book of tricks to leave this damn party in one piece.
Nothing here was as it seemed, and we’d made a huge miscalculation.
Conversation restarted and the tension dissolved. Marty stayed for a while, then disappeared into the marquee. While he was gone, Jacob kept his distance from Gazza, and although the others couldn’t keep their eyes off the gorgeous man, no one made a move on him. Marty’s message had been received.
Marty returned a few minutes later with three glasses of champagne and three half-full whisky glasses on a tray. He handed a champagne to Gazza, who initially shook his head before finally accepting, one to the young man who swallowed half of it in a single gulp, and the last one he kept for himself. The remaining three men helped themselves to the whisky.
Marty said something and raised his glass. Everyone clinked theirs to his, and they drank a toast before resuming the conversation. Gazza sipped on his champagne, clearly trying to make it last. He’d fully intended not to drink at all, but maybe he worried that turning down Marty’s hospitality would raise a red flag.
As time passed, Marty became increasingly handsy, touching Gazza at every opportunity, stroking his arm and tucking his hair behind his ear. Gazza handled it well. He smiled politely and slid free of Marty’s arm whenever he could, allowing the man enough flirtable rope to satisfy his obvious interest without overly encouraging it. In between sips, Gazza casually scoped the yard, clearly on the lookout for Lee and maybe me as well.
But Lee was nowhere to be seen. He was either being kept in the background or not allowed to attend at all, a fact I found troubling. Freshly returned to the nest and Marty’s control, I’d have thought Marty would’ve wanted to advertise that fact. Show that the prodigal boyfriend had returned. So where was Lee?
My phone vibrated in my hand. It was Mads. I turned and cupped my hands over the dull screen to check the text.
What’s happening?
I typed back.G is talking with Marty and a few others including a young guy who looks a lot like Lee. Could be Aaron. No sign of Lee yet.
Dots came and went.Aaron? Does Gazza know?
Don’t think so. The kid looks drunk and this arsehole Jacob is all over him.
Mads took a moment to reply.Shit. Give it another forty-five, then if Lee’s a no-show, get out of there.
What about Aaron? I don’t wanna leave him with these jerks.
More dots came and went. They stopped and then started up again.I don’t know. You decide. If it’s too risky you might have to leave him to Lee. Aaron’s his brother after all. Just give me some warning in case I have to save your sorry arses.
I scowled at the phone.Gee, thanks. A lot of help that was.I returned my attention to the party in time to see a man emerge like a bullet from the house on a beeline for Marty and the group.
