He put the platter on the table next to the sofa. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Food.”
Spencer chuckled but sat up and took the cover off. “Oh, some meat and veggies, very healthy… could we go to get a cheese burger instead?”
He almost put the cover back when Duncan wedged his hand under it.
“No. You eat now, shower and change into decent clothes, then we can go, and maybe you’ll get a burger too.”
“You’re annoying as fuck.”
“Thanks.”
Spencer pulled a face but ate, fussing a bit with the food, eating with his fingers. Drinking more. “These are designer clothes… not that you would know, in your cheap ass suit.”
“That’s quite an expensive one.”
Spencer smirked. “Well, it’s ugly as fuck…”
“Because pyjamas aren’t?”
Spencer snickered and met his eyes. “Pyjamas? This is a silk outfit. But what would you know of silk…” He wiped his mouth in his sleeve. “Time to change.”
“Shower first.”
“I stink?” Mocking.
Duncan shrugged. “I can’t smell it above all the weed and alcohol.”
“Clever chap…” He rose, and swayed a bit, but managed to shuffle to the bathroom.
Duncan listened to the shower, the toilet, whipping his gaze away when Spencer walked out wrapped in a towel.
“Oh, shy?”
“Put something on. I’m not paid enough to look at your body.”
Spencer scoffed, his voice coming from the dressing room. “That’s my line.”
“Yeah, well, it’s mine now.”
Waiting, fuming a bit, that half-eaten plate getting on his nerves. He hated wasting.
He looked at Spencer when he walked out, in tight black jeans and a loose dark red shirt tied at the waist. He had left it unbuttoned at the top, down to his navel. His eyes just lightlyrimmed in black, he was looking at his nails, various silver rings on his fingers.
“I need to have a manicure… maybe tomorrow. No time now.” His mocking eyes went to Duncan. “Get ready and bring the car over. Oh, don’t dress like a penguin… something less posh even if that club is just that. Maybe dark jeans and a shirt?”
Duncan had stood. “I don’t need your fashion advice.”
Spencer grinned, lighting his joint again as he sprawled on the sofa. His eyes went to Duncan, half-hooded, with that insolent smirk on his sharp lips. “I think you do. Shoo-shoo… Hurry.”
Duncan just swallowed his words, and left, his blood buzzing under his skin.Fuck.He could have howled, but instead, went back to his flat and changed.All black because fuck that kid.Black jeans, a black long sleeved shirt. Musing a bit to bring the gun but then,where to put it… Fuck.Maybe it wasn’t needed in a club anyway.Who would want to harm this asshole junky? Tsk.
He got the car and parked it in front of the stairs, sending a quick message to Spencer, but he was already walking out, on his phone, typing as he sat in whilst the valet held the door open.
He looked at Duncan; his eyes glazed with alcohol and weed. “Let’s go… Tropica Club.”
