| "But that scar on your face That beautiful face of yours In your heart there's a trace Of someone before But that scar on your face That beautiful face of yours Don't you think that I know They've hurt you before Take this man to your bed Maybe his hands will help you forget Please be stronger than your past The future may still give you a chance" - from 'Cowboys and Angels' by George Michael "Ssh...." Still stunned by the plethora of emotion Bernard had shown in the last, awful couple of minutes, Manny held his friend tight against him, frankly terrified that he'd do something they'd both regret if he let go. He could feel Bernard's tears soaking through his shirt at his shoulder, the wracking sobs shaking them both. Wiry arms were wrapped around him in a vice grip and strong fingers were clawed at his back. He had no idea what to do. He stroked the mop of dark hair, trying out what he hoped was a soothing rub down Bernard's back. He had even less of an idea about what to say. Bernard telling him about Emma had been heartbreaking enough but Fran's follow-up, that she wasn't actually dead but living the other side of Priory Road, had left him speechless. Unfortunately, not for very long. "How could she do that to me?" Bernard asked him bitterly between sobs and snorts. "I loved her. I proposed to her. I bought... her a diamond ring. A real one!" Manny felt like crying a little himself. He'd accused Bernard of being a heartless bastard, which was what had started the whole 'Emma' thing and had lead to this. Bernard in meltdown. He tried to wrap himself around the other man, desperate to make this pain go away. "You deserve better," he said with more certainty than he felt. "No, I don't," came the piteous response. "I'm a sad wanker. I can't believe I fell for what she said. Why should anyone love me?" Manny closed his eyes, breathing in Bernard's smoky smell. "I love you, Bernard. You're not easy and sometimes I don't know if you're worth it but it doesn't change the fact." Bernard sniffed and shifted in his arms, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Manny's as he moved his mouth over the other's in a rough, awkward kiss. Manny's breath caught. "Bernard...." "Please." "We shouldn't." But he was already returning the kiss, sucking on Bernard's bottom lip gently. "You said...." "I know, but we'll regret this." Still, he welcomed a rough tongue into his mouth, hand cradling the back of Bernard's head. Despite the mess this would make of their already complicated relationship, despite the fact they'd never hear the end of it from Fran, despite the fact that Rowena was asleep in the bedroom next door. But Bernard's hands on his shoulders were achingly insistent and the tongue in his mouth was surprisingly skilled. "Please." Manny really thought it might have been the first time he'd ever heard Bernard say that. "I know... this isn't the best time...." But Manny's fingers were unfastening the buttons of Bernard's shirt of their own volition. Bernard was groaning softly and the smooth skin against his fingertips, the vibrations against his mouth, the solid reality of the man in his arms was turning him on like nothing ever had. Certainly not Rowena when they'd made love - or rather, had sex - earlier on, in the smaller hours of the morning. When Bernard's fingers fumbled at the belt of his gown, he almost embarrassed himself. Sure hands moved between the edges of warm material and took a firm hold of his overly enthusiastic dick. He took several deep breaths and skimmed his own fingers over Bernard's ribs and stomach. Very slowly he eased them down onto Bernard's bed, shrugging off his robe as they went, unfastening Bernard's trousers and sliding them down over his legs. He wasn't sure what prior experience Bernard had with men and he found he hated the thought of any other guy touching his friend like this. In his own way, Bernard was an innocent. He'd been taken for a ride by the card sharks over at Dantes Taxis. He'd been betrayed by the woman he'd thought loved him. Manny nuzzled his throat, the day-old stubble scratching his mouth and chin. "I want to make love to you," he murmured, not sure how Bernard would take the sentiment. But Bernard nodded quickly, barely looking at him. Sweeping his hand over the thick, dark hair, Manny kissed him. He moved a large, firm hand along Bernard's side, over his hip and around to cradle one firm butt cheek in his hand. Lifting Bernard's thigh over his own, Manny brought their dicks together hard and enjoyed the sharp cry of pleasured surprise. He rocked them slowly, marvelling at Bernard's hands on his body, Bernard's mouth searching his out to share intense kisses before wondering off again, teeth teasing at his beard, lips caressing his throat. Bernard's loud cries and moans were swallowed up in kisses or muted by skin. At that moment, Manny didn't care about either of the two women in the house. He resisted his own urge and Bernard's attempts to speed up proceedings, never changing pace from the slow rhythm he'd set. Heated flesh pushed up against silken steel. His own fingers were clawed into the smooth skin of Bernard's ass, breath coming in gasps, every movement of Bernard's body driving spikes of hot pleasure through him until he thought he might explode if he didn't climax.... Bernard yelled hard, head back, hands gripping Manny's arms as he splattered both their stomachs with white ribbons of cum. Manny was moments behind, the slick heat adding to it and his body shaking with its orgasm. They collapsed, Manny on his back, Bernard sprawled on top of him, and were asleep before their pulses had slowed to anything approximating normal. ~ Fran woke up and groaned. It was the very last time she was sleeping on Bernard's sofa she swore as she rubbed her aching neck. Staggering through into the kitchen she flicked on the kettle, hearing someone moving around upstairs. Bernard probably, she doubted Manny and Rowena would be up so early. She was surprised then when Rowena appeared at the bottom of the stairs wrapped in Manny's white towelling gown. "Hello." Rowena was just as surprised to see her. "Hello. Are you... with the other man who was here?" Fran smiled. "No. I'm just a friend. I slept on the sofa. Again." She poured the tea. "Want one?" "No. Thank you. Have you see Manny?" That wasn't a question Fran had been expecting. "Shouldn't he be with you?" she asked slowly, hoping she wasn't putting her foot in it. They'd certainly sounded as if they'd been getting on well last night. "Yes. He was when I went to sleep but when I woke up he wasn't and his side of the bed... it was cold." Fran frowned a little at 'his side of the bed' but she wasn't sure why that should disturb her. "He's probably in the bathroom," she suggested, "the only other room up there is Bernard's and he wouldn't be in there." She chuckled softly at the thought. Rowena nodded, smiled and went back upstairs. She knocked nervously on the bathroom door and it swung open with a creak. The room was empty. The only other door upstairs was closed. She hesitated next to it but carried on into Manny's room and got dressed. Still he was nowhere to be found and as she passed by the closed door again curiosity got the better of her. Carefully, she turned the knob and opened the door. Fran almost dropped her mug as Rowena came hurtling down stairs and ran into the shop, fighting with the front door until it opened under the strain and let her free. Watching her go, Fran slowly moved her attention to the stairs and she wondered what exactly Manny had said to provoke such a reaction. Or maybe Manny hadn't said anything. Sighing softly she shook her head. "Bernard, you bastard." ~ Manny was downstairs first but only by a couple of seconds. He smiled a 'good morning' at Fran and asked her if she'd seen Rowena. "She ran out of here twenty minutes ago," Fran confirmed, glaring at Bernard. She wasn't expecting him to accept responsibility though. Wasn't expecting him to turn to Manny and actually apologise. Bernard's hand on Manny's arm, his muttered apology, Manny quietly brushing it off - Fran felt like she'd stepped into a parallel universe. "What is going on?" she demanded, looking between one and the other. "Why did Rowena leave here like a... a bat out of hell?" "Because she woke up alone," Manny told her distantly. "Because I slept with Bernard and that's where she found me." ~ 1 month later ~ "Fran!" She almost jumped at Manny's unexpectedly enthusiastic entrance and his half-grunted, half-whispered greeting. He leaned over her shoulder, looking back at the curtain separating the shop from the chaotic living area at the back. "Where's Bernard?" she asked him, tearing her eyes from the most recent photos of Jennifer Aniston's cellulite. "Still in bed. Do you still have that photograph of Emma?" Suspicious, she narrowed her eyes. "Why?" "Do you?" His request sounded urgent and she nodded slowly. "Yes. Although I had to give back her birth certificate and dental records." Leaning down she fished around in her bag and pulled out the dog-eared photo of her and Emma at Emma's birthday party, the photo she'd used to prove to Bernard that the only woman he'd ever really loved had faked her own death in order to break off their engagement. She still felt bad. They hadn't really recovered from that awful night yet, nothing was quite the same. Handing it to Manny she watched as he hurriedly folded it in half and stuck it in his back pocket. "Why do you want it?" He looked at her, looked at the curtains, ran over to peer between them and ran back, squatting down next to her chair and speaking in a whisper. "I was in Goliath Books yesterday and there was this girl working behind the counter." "Wait. You were in Goliath Books? Next door?" He nodded. "Does Bernard know?" "Yes. Periodically, on Evan's days off, we take it in turns to go over there in disguise and hide all the dead bugs we've collected from the shop in the dust covers of their best sellers." Fran shook her head, amazed that their antics could still surprise her. "Anyway, there was this girl working behind the counter and they all have name tags. Hers said 'Emma'." "There are thousands of Emmas in London," Fran pointed out, "what makes you think it was Bernard's Emma?" "I recognised her, from the photo. But I need to be sure." "Well let me go." She dropped her magazine onto the desk and stood, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "I know her so if it is her I can find out what she's doing there. Besides, if Evan sees you he'll drop-kick you out of the shop." Manny considered her plan for a second and then nodded. "Okay. But if it is, don't tell Bernard." She regarded him calculatingly. "I seem to recall saying that to you." He hung his head. "I'm sorry. I was drunk! And miserable. And... and he deserved to know." With a smile she patted his arm reassuringly. "And you love him. I know. It's okay. I'll be back in five minutes." ~ Stepping confidently into Goliath Books, Fran looked around for Evan but he was nowhere in sight. She strolled to the shelf closest to the counter, studiously avoiding the best sellers. Picking out the new Grisham novel - 'Politics Amuck' - she flicked through the pages, glancing up a couple of times to see who was serving. A young man, who looked astonishing just like Evan - same pink pastel shirt and beige trousers - was patiently explaining to an old woman that they didn't stock anything that had been published over three years ago. Stepping forward, Fran tapped her on the shoulder. "This place is useless," she told the lady, "you should try next door." The old woman smiled up at her. "Thank you, young lady." "Fran?" She looked up suddenly, recognising the sickeningly cheerful voice with the same dull acceptance she felt when one of her dates turned out to be gay as they so often did. "Hello, Emma." ~ Bernard dropped into his chair with his eyes closed and searched blindly for his cigarettes and lighter. His wrist was caught mid-grope and he opened his eyes to look at Manny's slowly shaking head. "Breakfast," Manny said by way of explanation, and Bernard glanced down at his desk to see a plate of bacon sandwiches where he'd assumed his packet of fags was. He smiled a rare smile and tucked in when Manny released him. "Where's Fran?" "Oh. She... she forgot something. She said she wouldn't be long." It sounded perfectly plausible and Bernard didn't really care anyway. He reached over and snagged her abandoned magazine with the tips of his fingers, dragging it across the desk. As he did, his eyes caught on the bottle of red left over from the previous night and he reached for that too. But before he could get a hold of it, it vanished from his line of sight. "Hey!" The word was barely out before a clean glass was being put down in front of him and he was being shown the label of a fresh bottle. He glanced at the expensive-looking black writing before nailing Manny with a suspicious regard. "It's the 19th," Manny said patiently. It took a moment, but finally Bernard caught on and a wide smile jumped onto his face. "My birthday?" Manny nodded once. "Will the wine suffice as the first bottle of the day?" Bernard examined the 'Stonier Pinot Noir Reserve' label, even he could recognise a good wine when he saw one, and nodded once. "Absolutely." Manny poured expertly, then left the bottle on the desk and vanished back into the kitchen. Bernard watched him go for a second before trying the wine - savouring that first mouthful - and munching his sandwiches, crunching the bacon done just the way he liked it. He read the first vulgar headline on the open pages of Fran's magazine then threw it back to where he'd dragged it from and took up the nearest book, opening it and settling back to read. ~ "Evan offered me the job," Emma explained as they sat in Goliath Books' browsing area and munched on muffins. "It was strange actually. You know Ann Fletcher?" Fran nodded. "She called me and said he'd asked for me personally and I was to come down from an interview. That was last week. The interview only lasted ten minutes then he said I was perfect and did I want to start immediately. I needed the money and I know the location's not ideal, but...." She shrugged but her expression was one of worry. "Is he still mad? He sounded mad that night when he called me." Fran's eyes widened. "He called you?" "I thought you knew! I thought you must have finally told him and given him my number!" With a sigh, she remembered finding her phone on the floor of the shop the morning after the ill-fated party, just minutes before poor Rowena had come running down the stairs in tears and had fled the shop never to return. "He must have taken my phone when I was asleep and found your number. I'm really sorry. What did he say?" "Oh, some rubbish about him being dead and how did I like it." She shook her head. "Did you tell him?" "I told Manny - the guy he lives with. I swore him to secrecy and he promised but it lasted all of ten seconds." Emma frowned. "He lives with a guy called Manny?" "Oh, it's not like that. At least... it wasn't. It isn't. It's complicated. I don't know if he's still mad. He's still upset." "I should see him. Apologise." Fran shook her head. "I don't think that's such a good idea. He's... changed." "He's given up smoking?" "No." "He's given up drinking?" "No." "He gets out of bed before lunchtime on a daily basis?" "Yes. But only because Manny cooks him breakfast." Emma frowned. "Who is this 'Manny'?" "Manny's his assistant. He's lovely, you should..." she paused before the words 'meet him' could escape. That was a bad idea on so many levels. If Bernard found out he'd go nuts. There was also the potential to hurt him quite deeply if he thought for a moment that she and Manny were befriending the woman who'd broken his heart. And there was always the possibility that Manny wouldn't be his usual friendly self. "He's lovely," she repeated. Emma hadn't picked up on the hesitation. "Bernard's assistant cooks him breakfast?" "And lunch. And dinner. And cooks, cleans, dusts, orders and prices the stock, feeds the wildlife...." She shrugged. "He must be an angel." "He is." "I'd love to meet him." "No, I don't think...." "Hello!" Fran jumped at Evan's smarmy voice coming from just behind her right shoulder. She stepped forward, away from him, instinctively. "You're Manny's friend, aren't you? I remember you." Emma smiled, blissfully unaware of the history here. "She's my friend as well," she declared proudly. Evan's false grin didn't fade. "Really? Well, I have friends too and I see them outside work." His point seemed lost on Emma but Fran glared at him. "I'm going." "Good. Come back soon. And say hello to Manny for me, will you? We miss him. There's always a job open here for him if that drunken worm he works for lands him in hospital again." He sauntered off and Fran briefly imagined taking Manny's fine hair and shoving it down Evan's throat. Emma was staring at her. "Bernard put him in hospital?" "No." Fran shook her head. "Well, yes. Once. Well, twice. But both times were accidents. Well, one was." Emma's expression was one of horror. "I knew he was the violent type!" A brief memory flashed into Fran's mind - Bernard going to punch Evan and missing by a good two feet. She wanted to defend him but couldn't think how to. "Why doesn't Manny just quit?" "Oh, he does. Around once a week. But he never actually leaves, not for longer than an hour. Actually, he worked here for a couple of days a few months ago. And three years ago he vanished for about a week, we still don't know where he went. But he and Bernard depend on one another." "Goodbye, Friend of Manny and Emma!" Fran rolled her eyes. "I'll see you soon," she told Emma. Before she left, she flicked ash from her cigarette onto the floor and smiled with glee when she remembered the dead arachnids in the best sellers. ~ "Happy Birthday!" Manny put the large, square package down on the desk in front of Bernard as he sat sipping his wine, lost in his book. He stopped mid-sip and looked at the present wide-eyed before glancing up. "You bought me a gift." "Yes. It's your birthday." "But what with? I never pay you...." "You'd noticed that too?" But Manny was smiling. "Just open it." Putting down glass and book, Bernard reverently picked up the heavy present. He unwrapped the paper carefully to reveal a polished wooden box with an ornate metal catch and hinges. Flicking it back, Bernard lifted the top. Cushioning in dark purple velvet was a crossbow. Perfectly crafted, an antique by the look of it. "Manny...." The name dropped from his lips in a whisper as he reached inside and lifted the weapon out, finding a line of short, evil-looking, metal-tipped arrows underneath. The crossbow felt incredible. Light enough to hold and aim, heavy enough to fire with deadly accuracy in the right hands. It had occurred to Manny when he'd bought it that Bernard's might not be the right hands and he might be digging his own grave, but he'd fallen in love with it as soon as he'd seen it and he'd known Bernard would too. "It's fantastic...." The awe in the rare hush of the Irish tones assured him he'd been right. Manny smiled. "No shooting yourself in the foot. Or me for that matter." Shaking his head, Bernard replaced the crossbow and closed the box. "Thank you." "Don't mention it." Embarrassed, Manny blushed. "Drink your wine. I need to see about lunch before we start getting busy." He started to retreat before pausing. "And Bernard?" "Um?" "You're not allowed to use customers for target practise." ~ Manny spotted Fran peering through the window. Bernard was engrossed in whatever random book he'd picked up. It was the one thing that still baffled Manny about him. When it came to books he was an expert. He was so widely read that whenever they got in new stock he would already have read most of the older books and would devour the newly published ones long before they could sell out. Manny casually strolled through the shop to the door. "Where are you going?" Turning back, trying to look innocent, Manny looked at Bernard who hadn't even raised his head. "I'm just checking the post. The postman leaves parcels and oversized letters outside the door, and it is your birthday." It was the best he could come up with but he winced as Bernard responded, "No one ever sends me anything." Manny hesitated, wanting to say something, anything. But it was true. Not even Bernard's mother, it seemed, ever sent him a birthday gift, not even a card. He opened the door and almost stepped on a parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Picking it up, he recognised his mother's handwriting immediately, yet it was addressed to Bernard. Fran was standing out of sight, in front of Goliath Books and he jogged down the steps to meet her. "It is Emma," Fran confirmed in an urgent whisper. "Evan gave her the job specifically. I think he's up to something." "Like what?" "I don't know. What's that?" Manny glanced down at the package in his hands. "I think it's a birthday present from my parents." "It's your birthday? Why didn't you say?" "Not mine! Bernard's! Didn't you remember?" She shrugged. "I've never know when it is." "It's today." She smiled gently at the hard expression on his face. "I'll go and buy him something. Keep him out of Goliath and don't let him peek through his spy hole!" Manny watched her go, frowning. "What spy hole?" ~ With Fran fast asleep on the sofa, Bernard and Manny sat side by side behind the desk, feet up, their chairs touching at the arms. What remained of the chocolate cake Manny had made and decorated with tiny wine bottles made of sugar and candles which had refused to go out until Bernard had dunked them in Fran's wine, sat in front of them surrounded by crumbs. A moderate collection of full-sized red wine bottles stood beside it, along with scrunched up balls of colourful wrapping paper. Fran, to her credit and at last minute, had bought him a gorgeous silver lighter inscribed simply 'with dubious love' and a cork screw that was as ingenious as it was simple. Moo-ma, and Manny would never forgive his mother for this, had sent down a Glenn Miller CD which Bernard had played nine times over before Manny had taken it from the player and flung it across the shop. It was sitting somewhere between music history and botanicals and Bernard hadn't yet gone in there armed with his crossbow to get it back. Manny had cooked a four course dinner and now, at just gone midnight, all three of them were happily drunk and fat from good food. Gazing into the distance, Manny swapped his wine into his left hand to scratch his arm and before he could swap it back, Bernard's hand insinuated itself into his, fingers pushing between his own. Before he could say anything, Bernard's dark head appeared on his shoulder and he heard, "Thank you," whispered ever-so-softly. Turning his own head he kissed Bernard's wild hair gently, murmuring, "Happy Birthday." Bernard turned his head and smiled. "Want to fall asleep somewhere together?" Mirroring the happy, contented expression, Manny nodded. ~ Waking up with someone else was always more satisfying than waking alone. Someone else's warmth, someone else's breath on his skin, someone else's hand on his dick. Manny's eyes flew open at the same moment as a low groan left his throat of its own volition. Bernard was lying next to him, propped up on his elbow, one hand supporting his head, the other teasing Manny's in a slow, sensual rhythm. Struggling to get his bearings, Manny shifted carefully up onto his side and reached between them. He loved the expression that shaped Bernard's face whenever he touched him like this. Manny was only just starting to realise how much Emma's lies had hurt, just how deprived Bernard had been of love, how much he needed it and craved it. Tightening his grip, Manny leaned over to swallow Bernard's growl in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Bernard's own hand shifted on him and he did that thing with his fingertips, reaching down to stroke Manny's balls at the same time as he increased pressure and speed on his dick. "Yeah, oh yeah...." Forehead dropping against Bernard's, breath coming rapidly, Manny strained for his own climax while he jerked Bernard off. It didn't take long. They came, almost together, splattering one another, sharing another kiss as the waves of orgasm rolled over them. A while later Manny rolled out of bed heading for the bath, leaving Bernard dozing. He was soaking in bubbles when the door was pushed open and the other man stumbled in wearing his dressing gown. Bernard lifted the shower head, unfastened his belt and turned the taps. Manny watch in vague amusement, vague disgust as the cold spray hit Bernard's face before it was directed all over his body for about thirty seconds then dropped into the hot bath water. Leaning forward, he swore softly under his breath, toes getting instantly cold before he managed to turn off the taps and fish out the shower. "Get in if you want," he offered, wondering when the last time soap touched Bernard's skin. He hesitated but shook his head. "No. I need to pee." "Go downstairs." Another hesitation but he nodded and vanished again. With a sigh, Manny settled back in the water and closed his eyes. ~ It was a busy day in the shop. Four separate customers asked for a book neither Bernard nor Manny had ever heard of before declaring they would stick to Goliath Books next door in future. Manny had a fight with the manual credit card gadget when it ate the top layer of the receipt on the back swipe. Then a customer complained about the lack of available beverages and Manny had to prevent Bernard from punching him. It quietened down around two and Manny went out in search of lunch and Fran - who unusually hadn't yet put in an appearance - leaving Bernard to his own devices and the customers to Bernard's wrath should they disturb him with anything that wasn't a direct cash-for-book(s) transaction. Bernard sat happily in his chair, smoke curling up from the end of the forgotten cigarette in the ashtray, half-empty glass of red wine standing idle on the desk. He'd never read any JG Ballard before but a couple of days ago he'd picked up 'Rushing To Paradise' and had found himself enthralled, unable to put it down. He'd ordered 'Crash' from the wholesale place along with a covering order of Hill, Dexter, Graham and McDermid so that it didn't stand out and he was completely lost in it, bewildered, vaguely disgusted and incredibly aroused. So much so that when a heavy, hard-back copy of Ricky Jay's 'Journal of Anomalies' was dropped onto the desk in front of him, he almost fell out of the chair. "What?" he demanded, raising his head to see Evan standing over him, grinning inanely. "Oh. It's you. What do you want?" "Do you have 'Cards As Weapons'?" "No. It's out of print and very difficult to get hold of. Besides, whenever a copy appears it sells for hundreds of pounds - why do you want it?" Evan leaned forward, palms flat on the desk's polished surface. "No reason." His head tilted from one side to the other. "Where's Manny?" "None of your business. Get out. Go back to your neon castle with your commercial sale agreements and your Beckham book signings." "Oh, I will. But I have a proposal for you." "What proposal?" "Call it, an employee swap. You let Manny come and work for me for a week and I'll let you have one of my assistants. Say... Emma Braithwaite." Bernard rose slowly to his feet. "Get out." "An offer you can't refuse," Evan teased, but he took a step back. Last time Bernard had tried to hit him he'd missed completely, but he'd seemed a lot more drunk then than he looked now and he wasn't going to risk it. In actual fact, Bernard had been suffering from chemical poisoning at the time. He knew if he went for it he had a good chance of his fist colliding with some part of Evan's body even accidentally. Not in innately violent man unless Manny was involved, he stayed behind the desk. "Get out!" "Just think about it. Emma's so much nicer to look at than Manny." Bernard took a single side-step and Evan turned to leave, glancing back and smiling just as he got to the door. Waiting exactly ten seconds, Bernard ran across the shop and moved the green man mask hanging on the wall covering the loose brick. Getting purchase on it, he wiggled it out of place and peered through the spy hole he'd used to keep an eye on Manny when he'd gone over to the other side after the hand-in-toaster incident. At first he could just see strangers. The shop wasn't empty but neither was it full. He watched Evan stroll in and settle himself smugly behind the counter with a young dark-haired guy who looked very similar. They all looked similar. Pastel-coloured shirts, slacks, soft-soled shoes. Perfectly combed hair. Then he saw her. She was re-arranging the books on a shelf, side on to him. Her dark hair was shorter than she'd worn it when she'd been with him. Her round arse even looked good in loose, nondescript beige trousers. Bernard put his hand to his mouth, chewing absently on his thumb joint as he watched her turn to someone and laugh. He hated her. Within a second, appreciation had turned bitter, memories assaulting him, the shock and hurt he'd felt the night he'd found out she was still alive flooding back through him. How dare she cheat him of her company and her love for years, get her friends and family to lie to him because she hadn't the courage to break off a relationship she didn't want yet would happily walk off with the diamond ring he'd bought her? And then... and THEN take a job in the soul destroyingly sterile book emporium next door! He bit down hard and yelped in pain as his own teeth broke through the skin of his hand and he started to taste blood. "Bernard!" Manny's concerned exclamation made him look up, caught in the act, and he immediately held out his bleeding hand. It worked. Almost not seeing the hole in the wall between the two shops, Manny cradled Bernard's wrist in a gentle grip and led him through the shop and up into the bathroom. "What were you doing?" he asked as he cleaned the small wounds made by Bernard's own incisors and hunted through the first aid cabinet for a clean and not-too-yellow bandage. At first, Bernard didn't answer. His hand was throbbing sickeningly and he hated the sight of his own blood. He sat on the edge of the bath and let Manny nurse him for a while, lapping up the care and attention he seemed to crave from this man. But once his hand was wrapped in an almost-white bandage and he was settled at the kitchen table while Manny made a pot of tea, the man's gentle needling finally drove him to admit the truth. "Emma's working in Goliath Books." When Manny didn't immediately respond with surprised outrage on his behalf, Bernard was instantly suspicious. He wasn't quite as slow as he sometimes appeared. "You knew!" he accused. Manny sighed. "I thought I saw her there the day before yesterday while I was delivering the dead bugs. Fran confirmed it. I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you and I don't know what Evan's up to." "He came here. He wanted to swap you for her, like an... employee exchange." Eyes wide, Manny's mouth dropped open and for a moment he couldn't find any words. Then his brain kicked in and he shook his head. "No. No... Bernard, please. He'll make me cut off my hair! He'll make me wear pastels! He hates me. I wrecked the do-diddy-do machine." "Manny...." "I want to work with you. I like working here. I don't want to work next door. I don't like it." "Manny." "I don't want to be a team player. I don't want to look like them and have to be like them. Please, Bernard. Please!" "Manny!" Panicked, he was shifting from foot to foot, face a mask of misery. "What?" "Do I have any clean clothes?" It wasn't the question he'd been expecting, it caught him off-guard and for a moment took his mind off the impending doom. "Yes. You have a wardrobe. It's the door to the left of your bed." "Good. I want you to do something for me." He was off again. "I don't want to leave! Please, Bernard, don't make me leave." "I want you to do my hair." Again, he was surprised. "What?" "My hair! I want to look... nice." Manny thought he was catching on. A small part of him, the part that loved what he and Bernard were sharing, felt the misery of being dumped for a woman who'd hurt Bernard so badly in the past. But as long as he was still here.... "Don't make me leave." "I'm not going to make you leave. I like you working here. Besides, Fran would kill me." ~ Bernard sat on a chair with his back to the bathroom sink, his head dropped back, towel wrapped around his neck. The shower wasn't long enough to reach the sink so Manny was using a mug to pour a mix of steaming hot and freezing cold water over Bernard's hair. Bernard was alternatively wincing and shivering but he hadn't uttered a single complaint, which was unusual in itself. "You know... she doesn't deserve you," Manny muttered as he massaged the shampoo into the wet hair, enjoying it far more than he knew he should be doing. "Who? Fran? You know, I've thought that for a long time now." Filling the mug again, being careful that the water wasn't scolding, Manny tipped it over Bernard's head and followed through with his fingers. He didn't have the nerve or the heart to correct the assumption that he'd been talking about Fran. He carried on his gentle massage of Bernard's scalp, watching the brown eyes close slowly. "She takes advantage," Bernard murmured, attention wandering elsewhere. Somewhere in the same vicinity of where Manny's had also gone. South. Definitely south. "You know, you have amazing hair. It's really lovely and thick." "I have my mother's hair." The response surprised Manny, only once before had he ever heard Bernard's parents mentioned and that had come from Fran. "You have amazing hair too," he continued, eyes still closed, voice distant. "Like... very fine straw. Gold straw." Smiling at the compliment, knowing they'd be there all afternoon if he didn't stop sometime, Manny turned off the water and pulling the towel from around Bernard's neck, told him to sit up and rubbed his hair briskly to dry it. "Brush?" he enquired when he'd removed most of the excess water. "What?" "Hair brush? You do have one?" "No." "Oh. Okay, well... hang on." Grabbing his own from the dressing table in his room, Manny yanked out all the long ginger hairs from between the bristles and dropped them into the bin. It was difficult brushing another man's hair. He might have been Bernard's barber on the side but that usually involved taking a sharp bread knife and slicing off locks that had become either too long or too bushy. He had no idea what the natural lie of Bernard's hair actually was. Holding the brush close to the brush end, he carefully, gently carded the soft bristles through the damp hair, watching the way the strands fell, trying to spot if there was a natural parting. If there was, it seemed to be a wavy line starting in the centre and heading left before curving back right. Some locks fell, some stuck up in tufts. As he brushed it, it dried quickly. Manny finally stepped back, forcing himself to stop touching. "Will I do?" "Yes." Manny said it with a smile, biting back three words that almost escaped from his lips without passing through his mental version of customs. "Good. Now, clothes." Bernard had assumed that his shirts were being stolen. He'd come to believe that he only had three left, a brown/reddish one, a grey/blue one and a black/grey one. When in actual fact he had a lot more that Manny had hung up in the wardrobe after he'd washed them. In Bernard's bedroom, Manny fought his way through a pile of empty cigarette packets and wine bottles, socks as hard as cardboard and underwear that he kicked out of the way with the tips of his sandals, trying his best not to come into any physical contact with them. Bernard's eyes widened in surprise when he finally got the wardrobe door open. Ironed shirts hung from the rail as they had done in some cases for almost three years. Two black suits, neatly dry-cleaned and pressed, were also in residence. Manny's favourite had always been the royal blue one. But there was another he'd completely forgotten about and he reached for it. "This one," he instructed Bernard, handing it over. He was aware that none of this was for his benefit, that Bernard was dressing to impress a woman. But he genuinely wanted whatever would make his friend happy. Bernard, he'd not all that long ago decided, deserved to have something in his life that would make him smile every day. If that wasn't to be him, so be it. If Emma hurt him again, Manny swore to himself that he'd make her apologise, in person, and then make her leave the country. He took down one of the clean suits and pulled the trousers from the hanger, replacing the jacket. "Just the trousers?" Bernard asked. "Yes." Manny watched him pull them on. "Leave the shirt hanging out." "Sure?" "On you, yes. It just... it suits you." "Okay." There was something so acutely innocent about Bernard that it made Manny's heart and throat and stomach ache on an almost daily basis. Bernard stood before him, clean-shaven, hair clean if not tidy. It didn't seem to want to be tidy but that didn't matter. His shirt was a deep red, the same colour as the scarf he wore in winter, ironed to perfection. His trousers were pressed and stain-free. He seemed to be waiting for an opinion and Manny gave him the only one he had right them. "You look... gorgeous." "Good. Thank you." Manny shrugged and watched Bernard step into a pair of polished shoes - Manny's work of course, while he'd been shaving - and head downstairs. For a few horrible moments, he thought he might cry. Then it passed and he followed behind. ~ The shop door opened and they both looked up, Bernard from his book, Manny from his dusting of the lower shelves. Fran stood and stared. "What happened to you?" Bernard frowned. "What?" "You... you're all...." Manny straightened, popping his spine back into place, and she glanced at him. "Clean." "He knows about Emma," Manny said by way of an explanation. Her face fell. "I'm sorry, Bernard." She meant it. "Don't be. Have a drink." Dropping into her usual seat she watched Manny perch on the edge of the desk and pour all three of them a fresh glass of red. She looked Bernard over again and decided that he wasn't actually that bad looking. She'd always thought he had beautiful brown eyes, especially when they weren't quite focused and the pupils were large and staring in that way he had when he was drunk and easily startled. His hair looked like black, expensive teddy bear fur and for a surprising moment her fingers ached to touch it, to stroke it. She felt a gentle pulse between her legs and sat back muttering, "Jesus." Bernard was already sipping his wine. "What?" "You...." She shook her head, snatching up her glass and emptying it in one gulp. "Nothing, nothing." Holding it up, she let Manny refill it. Her treacherous mind was still considering how his hair would feel against the sensitive skin, say, on the inside of her thighs. She almost choked on the wine. "Who... who did your hair?" Suspicious of the way she seemed to be having a spontaneous orgasm over Bernard when previously she hadn't looked at him twice (okay, except that one time but they'd both been drunk, Bernard had said, and she'd told him he wasn't allowed to remember, and the Gentles had been there too... who the hell were the Gentles anyway?).... Manny tripped over his own thoughts and declared, "I did!" over Bernard's own answer of, "Manny." But already she was looking at them both with a scrutinising stare. "Has anything happened between you since that night?" she asked inquisitively. Manny shifted on the desk, straightened, squared his shoulders. "I re-applied for the Open University course I wanted to do." Bernard too was squirming. He threw his head back, his shoulders following. "I've written a couple more short stories that don't involve bearded gimps, and a really long novel that I've sent out to a couple of publishers to see if they'll bite." "I said between you." She lowered her voice and leaned forward, "And I meant in terms of sex." They looked at one another, an admission of guilt before either of them had confirmed or denied it. Grinning, she said, "Oh, come on. You can tell me! You have to tell me. I want all the lovely details." "Pervert!" Bernard accused. "Get your kicks somewhere else!" "Oh, but you're both so...." So what? She'd never thought of Bernard as anything but arrogant, spiteful, smelly, drunk and rude before now. Except for that New Years Eve party, and that had only been because she'd fancied Peter Gentle and he'd only been interested in a foursome involving his wife. She'd actually felt guilty getting Bernard tangled up in that. Luckily he'd been too drunk to remember what Pete had done to him with the hostess' vibrator, he may have already been unconscious. She hoped so because Bernard didn't seem the type to take such a violation without a very violent response. "So what?" Bernard was asking her, and she dragged her mind back to the here and now. "So made for one another." It was a relief to find that at least part of her brain was functioning properly. Unsure of how to take that, Bernard waved his hands in the air. "We're not telling you the details of our sex life." "Spoil sports." But she dropped the subject with no small measure of relief. Her body was going into meltdown and she polished off the second glass of wine. "I have to... shop," she lied, getting up and grabbing her bag. "I'll see you both later." She tried not to run all the way home. Manny looked at Bernard. "You don't think she's gone to... and think about us... while she's...?" Bernard glanced at him, eyebrows furrowed. "No. She wouldn't dare." But it took him a couple of minutes to get comfortable again in his chair. ~ It was a couple of quiet hours later when the door opened again. Manny was in the kitchen trying to make up his mind if he could make anything edible from the ingredients they had or whether he needed to shop again. Bernard was nearing the end of 'Crash'. He reached for the bottle again and caught sight of a pastel pink blouse out of the corner of his eye. Slowly, he lifted his head and met Emma's nervous gaze. "Hello, Bernard," she greeted him with a smile. Hearing the woman's voice, Manny cautiously stepped in from the back. He'd thought it through and he wasn't going to give Bernard up to her without a fight. It wasn't one he even believed he had a chance of winning, but at least he could make her see that there would be consequences if she hurt him again. She smiled at him too but he didn't say a word, didn't move. Definitely didn't smile. Bernard did. He put down his book and stood up, freshly lit cigarette held easily between his right index and middle fingers. "How are you, Emma?" he asked, voice strong, words clear. She was obviously surprised by the apparent change in him, one not suggested by his out-of-the-blue phone call to her not so long ago. "I'm good. Thanks. I've been... working next door. Evan offered me a job." He nodded. "That's good. I'm glad." "You're looking... great. How are you?" "I'm still alive." But he didn't add any of the obvious remarks. "And I'm good too, thank you for asking." Manny was still sizing up the competition, wondering about her weak points, assessing her strong points, which were a lot more obvious. He was about to offer the first challenge when he felt warm fingers wrap around his hand. Glancing down he saw that Bernard was standing at his side, holding his hand and he returned the contact without a thought because his thoughts were completely occupied at that moment with asking lots of confusing questions. "This is Manny," Bernard was introducing him. "He's my partner." There was no way for her to misinterpret that statement, not with Bernard standing so close, fingers stroking his own. Manny turned his head, not sure what he was going to do or say but it didn't matter anyway, because Bernard touched a chaste kiss to his lips and it silenced every chattering voice in his head. Sure, it wasn't a tongue down his throat or a hand on his dick. But it meant a million times more. Because Emma wasn't Fran. Emma had friends who had friends. Emma wouldn't keep this quiet and within twenty-four hours everyone who had ever heard their names before and some people who hadn't would know about this exchange. Emma was backing away, smile fading. "I didn't realise.... Evan said... he wanted Manny.... And I thought... you've changed so much and...." She'd reached the door and opening it, she turned to leave. "Emma?" Bernard called her back. "I'd like my ring back, if you don't mind. It obviously meant nothing to you but it meant something to me." She nodded once, quickly, and almost ran from the shop. Bernard's smile was beaming when he let go of Manny's hand and sat back down, reaching for his glass. "But... I don't understand." "I know you don't." "I thought you wanted to get back with her. The hair and the... the clean shirt and everything." "She faked her own death rather than break off our engagement face to face. What made you think I'd ever want anything to do with her ever again?" He didn't have an answer to that. "Besides, you and I are getting on well, I thought." "Yes." "I know you think I think it's just sex. I know you don't think I'm capable of dealing with it as anything more. But you're wrong. I can and I do. I know you love me, I can see it in your eyes whenever you look at me. I love you too. Don't ask me why-" "I don't...." "-because there are a million reasons and it would take all day and all night to list them all." Manny was speechless but Bernard hadn't finished. "When I get that ring back, I was thinking... I could have the diamond made into an earring for you. You used to wear one when you first arrived." He was still silent, still staring, when Bernard turned his attention back to the end of 'Crash'. Finally, Manny managed, "I should... go to the shops. We don't have anything for dinner." "Okay." "Will you... be all right?" Bernard nodded. "Yes." "Right." He got to the door. "I'd... like it... the earring I mean." "Good." That seemed to be all that was needed. |