Waiting For You E-Book

K.C. Wells

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 55

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Mike Davenport was seventeen when he ran away from his home in London. He took the first coach available and ended up on the streets of Manchester as a rent boy. Maybe once he could have gone home, but after losing his best friend, Simon Marchwell, when he professed his love and suffering an assault at the hands of the first man he "dated," Mike doubts returning to his parents will end any happier than the rest. Christmas is nearly here, and Mike is freezing his arse off near the bus station, when a battered Ford Fiesta crawls past, not once, but three times. Mike thinks his luck is in, but when the window rolls down and he comes face to face with Simon, Mike's world changes again.

Leseprobe

Waiting for You

THEBITTERwind came whistling around the corner of Chorlton Street, making Mike Davenport shiver. It seemed to get into his clothes, not that his faded denim jacket afforded much resistance against the inclement weather. The wind’s prying fingers found every hole in his jeans, too.

December’s fucking cold this year.

Mike stomped his feet and hugged his arms around his middle, but it made little difference. His gaze was trained on the bus station, looking for any likely customers, not that he had much hope anymore. Not so much as a nibble all day. Mind you, he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t exactly look the picture of health—he just looked friggin’ cold.

And who wants to fuck a snowman, eh?

The light had already faded. Six o’clock and the streets were starting to fill with people as businesses and shops in Manchester city center closed for the night. Commuters made their way home, probably to a hot meal, a warm house, family….

That last thought, as always, made Mike’s throat tighten.

I wonder what they’re all doing tonight.

Then he’d shake himself, as if to shrug off the thought like a coat.

Ironic—he could so do with a decent coat right now. Not to mention his family.

Yeah, well, you can forget that one. London is a hell of a long way from Manchester, and besides, they don’t have a clue where you are, remember?

And thinking like that will not get you fucked tonight. No fuck—no cash. So work that body if you want to eat.

The wind picked up and Mike’s shivers intensified. Christmas was just over a week away, and the newspapers displayed in front of his local newsagents were already predicting a white Christmas and plummeting temperatures.

Great. That’s all I friggin’ need.

Mike looked along the street at the people walking his way. It was looking less likely that there was a punter among them. Somehow he didn’t think the two nuns and the mum pushing her toddler would be in the market for a rent boy. Dinner was also looking less likely.

Won’t be the first time I’ve gone without a meal.

Mike knew he didn’t have things as black as he was painting them. He had a roof over his head, it was a safe place, and if push came to shove, Tony wouldn’t let him go hungry. Nor would the others.

A Ford Fiesta that had seen better days came along the street, slowing down as it neared Mike. It was too dark to see the driver. Mike straightened. A guy with a car? Wouldn’t be the first time he’d done the business in a car, and anything was better than standing here in the now biting wind.

The car passed him, sped up, and carried on going toward Canal Street.

Aw, fuck.

Mike shivered violently. He’d had enough. Besides, who in their right mind would be out looking for a hole to fuck on a night like this? At least if he went home—or to what amounted to home right now—he’d be warm. And if he really got hungry, he knew he could rely on Seb or maybe Vince for a slice of toast. They knew what it was like, after all.

The Fiesta came back.

Mike watched as it drove by on the other side of the road, this time heading toward Portland Street. Still no way of seeing who was driving. The streetlight was out, for a start. But for the same car to cruise by twice? Mike kept his eyes fixed on the dirty, dented vehicle, silently willing it to stop.

No such luck. The car kept going.

That was it. Mike was going home. He pulled up the collar on his jacket, shoved his hands as deep in his pockets as they would go, and braced himself as he turned into the wind. He put his head down and marched briskly, trying to keep as close as he could to the buildings, where the wind wasn’t as harsh. He thought about the hot cup of tea he’d make once he got there, and his little two-bar electric fire. He tried not to think of the wasted day, standing around in the freezing cold, with not so much as a sniff of a punter.

And then the Fiesta crawled past him and pulled up at the curb.

Yes! If it had been warm enough to remove his hands from his pockets, Mike would have fist-pumped the air. Maybe dinner was on the cards after all.

The passenger window rolled down, and Mike grinned to himself. Go do your stuff, baby. He walked over to the Fiesta and leaned down to the open window, pasting on a smile.

“Looking for something particular? I can—”

The words died in his throat.

Simon Marchwell sat in the driver’s seat, staring at him with wide eyes. Simon fucking Marchwell. His face hadn’t altered that much since the last time Mike had seen it, six years and a whole lifetime ago.

“Get in the car, Mike,” Simon said urgently. “It’s freezing out.”

Mike froze. “What… what….” He could barely get the words out.

“Mike, come on! It’s freezing! Get in the car!” The window rolled back up.

Mike stood there, unable to move. He had to be dreaming, right? It couldn’t really be Simon, who hadn’t been out of his thoughts for more than a few days since Mike had watched him walk off down the front path and out of his life.

The door flung open and Simon leaned across the passenger seat. “I am not leaving here without you, and right now I’m freezing my arse off, so for God’s sake, Mike, get in the fucking car!”

At that moment the wind whipped around him, and Mike shuddered.

It’ll be warmer in there.

That one thought was all it took. Self-preservation won out over confusion, shock, and fear. He got into the car and pulled the door shut.

Simon heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God. Now put your seat belt on. I’m taking you back to my place.” He checked over his shoulder and pulled out into the street.

Mike did as instructed. He couldn’t stop staring at Simon. “Your place? You live in Manchester? Since when?” He paid no attention to the passing scenery. He was still waiting for his brain to accept what was happening.

Simon kept his eyes on the road. “I’ve lived here for the past three years. I’m at the university, studying Chemistry.”

Oh, that fucking hurt. He’d been that close—for three years? And Mike had had no idea.

Well, how could you have known? It’s not like you’re in touch with anyone, is it?