Page 100 of Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined
“Thank you!” yelled Joe from the bed. “That will be all.”
Her irritatingly cute half curtsey almost sent Joe over the edge, but Percy quickly kicked the door closed after a loudly whispered apology for Joe’s ‘appalling’ behaviour. He placed the ice-bucket, the glasses with their silver tray, and the mail down on the side-table.
“Give me some champagne,” Joe spat, glaring at the door.
“That’s the spirit.”
And the champagne was good. Very good. But unnecessarily good. Much like the room. Much like breakfast. Everything was unnecessarily good except Joe’s mood, and Percy loved him, so after a few minutes of brooding quiet, he said, “I didn’t steal the champagne.”
Joe’s cynical face lightened, but only slightly. “Are you just saying that because I’m pissed?”
“No. I thought you would think it was funny if I told you Istole it, but clearly you don’t, so I’ve had to come out with the truth. I paid for it. Fino all’ultimo centesimo.”
Much to Percy’s chagrin, his well-meant ‘confession’ only doubled Joe’s ire. “You actually paid for this?”
With a near-defeated laugh, “What have I done wrong now?”
Joe sensed the conversation was taking on an edge of genuine anger, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Exactly how much did this cost?”
“Why does that matter?” Percy rounded, raising his voice a little.
“Because that’s a stupid amount of money to pay,” said Joe, raising his voice to meet Percy’s.
“You don’t even know what I paid,” Percy threw back, louder still.
“I know it’s almost thirty years old, so Iknowthat’s ridiculous money for champagne.”
“That’s normal money for champagne.”
“What champagne are you drinking?”
“Decent champagne!” Percy yelled. He turned his entire body towards Joe, and though his face was serious and his tone firmer than Joe was accustomed to having directed at himself, he spoke in as clipped and elegant a manner as he always did. “It’s not ridiculous to have a champagne breakfast on holiday with my beautiful boyfriend. It’s not ridiculous to celebrate being alive, being here, with you, now, in whatever stupid way we like, because we both barely cheated death only hours ago. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s something worth drinking to. And this is my money, not yours, so go have a cup of tea if it makes you feel better, but don’t ruin the morning over some old grape juice just because it has a large price tag.”
Joe’s stomach dropped just as quickly as the realisation hit that this wasn’t remotely about the champagne or themoney. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Percy replied just as vehemently. “I only want you to understand. I appreciate your concern, but I have a lot of cash to throw around, and I’m going to enjoy it while I can. It’s not as though I’m saving for retirement.” With that, he crossed the room to lean against the open door to the balcony, staring far, far out over the orange-red rooftops, the steeples and the domes, towards the harbour under its intensely blue sky, where he saw nothing at all.
The fact was, Percy did have a lot of money, but only in theory. His home was a treasure trove of artefacts and artworks he had procured one way or another since he was a teenager, and he needed to sell but one good piece to have more money than most people could ever dream of. But Percy was attached to beauty in a way most people are attached to air. It was a need and a compulsion and he would die before he parted with one beloved thing in his life. Every safety and comfort he never had growing up, he had replaced with the surety of paintings, sculptures and supernatural objects that controlled the dark forces that had haunted his childhood. It was lucky for Percy that he tended to find beauty in the ugly, the vulgar, and the mundane, almost as easily as he found it in a gallery or manor, but once he had found it, he would kill or die for it before he would part with it willingly.
The long and short of this aesthetic obsession was that, in reality, Percy was approaching broke. Yet it was as vital as ever that all the ugliness of the world he inhabited continue to be offset, and therefore not a speck of his and Joe’s elegance would be sacrificed, lest it sully the whole affair. But it wasn’t Joe’s evident aversion to reckless spending that had sent Percy into a spin that morning.
He had stolen the champagne. He would never have called it a test, but had he called it a test, Joe would have failed miserably. And if he was honest with himself, Percy wasn’t remotely surprised to find Joe disapproving of frivolous theft. But thatwas good to know, because Percy would be taking a job, and soon. And that job would almost definitely be highly illegal. How to play it from here?
As Percy turned the problem over, Joe remained silent, with an eye on his partner, wondering how to wind things back. Percy was perfectly correct. It was his money, and not Joe’s. Ultimately, it was his life and not Joe’s, and if it made Percy happy, especially after everything he’d done for Althea in the last few days, what right did Joe have to interfere? But it didn’t sit right somehow, particularly after Percy’s last comment about not saving for retirement, so by way of explaining, Joe began, “I didn’t grow up with a lot of money…” But there he faltered, because his childhood really wasn’t something he wanted to talk about.
Oh shit, Percy thought to himself. Realising there was a very good chance Joe had mistaken his conniving calculations for something else entirely, before Joe could open any old wounds or be forced to pour his heart out to make amends for Percy’s fuck up, Percy returned directly to Joe’s side and sank down onto the soft bed beside him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did. It’s just that if we die next week, I’ll miss the luxury of this champagne.” And that, at least, was perfectly true.
Joe attempted to throw off the tension with a joke. “If we die next week, I’ll be in heaven and I’ll have everything I need.”
“And I’ll be in Hell,” Percy replied grimly. He leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Joe’s lips. “And I’ll miss you. Let me spoil you while I can.”
As ever, Joe yielded easily to his touch, and Percy pushed him back a little further, interrupting each of Joe’s words with another kiss. “It’s fine. If it makes you happy to give thousands of dollars to rich hotels, then it’s none of my business.”
Percy took the glass from his hand andplaced it on the bedside table, dropping his lips beneath Joe’s ear. “It is your business, though. You’re my boyfriend.”
“That’s very sweet, Percy, but,” and here Joe let out a small gasp as Percy took a hold of his erection through the sheet, “I’ve only been your boyfriend for a few weeks.”
“You’ve been the object of my affection for almost half a year,” Percy murmured, kissing his way down his chest. “We’re basically married now.”
