Chapter Thirty-Five
Kris
There was tension in the air. Kris could feel it, thrumming against his skin almost as if it were a physical thing. It had been there ever since Crichton showed up just after breakfast. Jonesy had clicked his harness to the lead and led him to the living room to keep Victor’s mum company while he and Crichton had words.
Kris could imagine what it was about. Victor had promised Crichton could have him while hinting he might have Kris suck him off, too. Now, that didn’t seem forthcoming. Instead, Kris appeared to be a bizarre gift for an elderly lady. At least, he hoped she was an old lady and not a corpse propped up somewhere in the room. He didn’t know, and he wasn’t moving from the pet bed he’d been led to in order to find out.
“I’ll turn Tricia up for you,” Jonesy said, addressing Victor’s mother. As usual, she didn’t reply.
“You know she can’t hear you,” hissed Smitty.
“Oh yeah, why you whispering, then?” Jonesy demanded. “Shh, don’t answer that. They’re about to reveal the DNA test results.”
“I’m afraid he’s not either of you’s father,” Tricia said to the two young women on her show. “In fact, the results show you each have a different dad.”
“Ohhhh,” Smitty said. “They didn’t see that coming. Their mother’s a right slapper,” he crowed.
They were so loud that Kris didn’t hear the soft footsteps on the carpet heralding more arrivals. He startled as he heard Victor’s voice. “It’s not my fault you can’t go home. I never told you to grab him like that. You could have taken your time. Been more circumspect.”
“Hindsight is 20/20,” Crichton snapped. “But he’s here now, and a promise is a promise.”
“Promise? I do not recall ever making that a promise. A suggestion, yes. A potential reward, most definitely. But never an agreed upon promise.”
“You arsehole!”Crichton erupted.
“Stand down, “ Victor said, his tone carrying a dangerous sounding edge that made fear skitter along Kris’ skin. By the rustle of movements, Jonesy and Smitty had moved to defend their employer. “You best keep calm, Crichton. You have set my men on edge, interrupted my mum’s morning, and upset her cat.”
“Are you even fucking serious?” Crichton asked, his voice now edged with hysterical disbelief. “Your mum is an urn full of fucking ashes and your cat is a man in a fetish costume!”
Oh, shit. That explains a lot.
Kris wished he could sink into the cushion of his beds and remain unseen as silence descended in the room. It lay heavy and Kris’ heart began to race at the taste of violence in the air.
“Get…him…out…of…here,” Kris heard at last as Victor pulled himself together enough to grind the words out with a seemingly great effort.
“I can’t leave! They’ll find me at home!”
“You can go stay with Marcus, then,” Smitty said.
“That’ll be the next place they look!”
“Fine! If you’ll shut up, you can stay in the spare room until tomorrow. Tonight you better be making plans as to where you’ll be going, because after that crack, you sure as hell are not staying here!” Victor snapped. “Show him to his room, Smitty, and see he understands to not come out until he’s ready to leave and that better not be any later than six in the morning. I do not want tog et up for breakfast and find him still here!”
“You’d better stop looking at Muffin,” he heard Smitty say as he escorted Crichton from the room.
“Muffin? He’s calling him Muffin?”
“His mum named him that.”
His mum. An urn of ashes, you mean.Kris shivered.They are all fucking crazy, serving tea and cookies to an urn, putting on TV for it, and getting it a cat. It’d be hilarious if it weren’t happening in real life.
“I’m sorry, mum. He was very rude. He won’t be coming again, I promise,” Victor said. His footsteps moved closer to Kris and then he could feel Victor’s hand stroking his head and on down his back. “Poor kitten. Don’t worry, Muffin. Daddy won’t let the mean wittle man hurt the sweet kitty witty.”
Oh, God.
Victor straightened. “Find a movie on that Netflix thing for mum. I’m going to go work out what to do now.”
“Sure thing,” said Jonesy. “You’re not going to trade Muffin, are you?”
