Martina threw the sign of the cross and rang for a nurse. “He’s drunk way too much. They pumped his stomach when he got here.”
“Still here… can talk…” He closed his eyes, lying back on the pillow, pale as the sheet.
A nurse came in then, but saw that disaster and hurried back outside.
Henry sighed. “Mr Lambert, you can still refuse this assignment… you wouldn’t be the first to walk out on us.”
Duncan’s eyes drifted back to that young man, fed up. That anger bubbling in his chest, that some young men were struggling and working their asses off and that privileged fuck was throwing his guts up in a luxury hospital. But… the money was too good, Sinclair had sent the details, and he would have a place to live... if he managed with this young idiot.
“It’s fine. I’ll manage.”
“Fuck you…” Soft, filled with that mocking hate, he had opened his eyes.
Duncan decided to ignore him, even if inwardly, he was boiling.
They watched a cleaner come in, and the nurse with fresh sheets.
The young man looked at them. “Get the fuck out… I don’t want to be… changed in front of all of you…”
His mother wrinkled her nose. “You need a shower too…”
“Yes, mother…” Mocking, his sharp lips curled up.
Henry looked at Duncan. “We might as well have a coffee and discuss the details. How soon can you start?”
Duncan thought about that silent flat filled with their memories. That empty bed filled with their scent. “Tonight. I need time to pack a few things.”
“Splendid!”
They heard a chuckle from the bed and turned back.
Spencer grinned at Duncan. “Welcome to hell, dog.”
Duncan walked close and leant over him, offering his hand. “It’s Mr Lambert for you, or Duncan. Not ‘dog’. And if you ever call me ‘dog’, I’ll make sure you’re welcome to hell indeed.”
Spencer’s dark eyes went to him. “Oh… I see… a tough guy…” His breath was heavy with alcohol and that stale sour smell of vomit. He took Duncan’s hand though, shaking it softly. “Alright, Duncan. I’m Spencer. And I hate you already.”
Duncan straightened. “That makes two of us.” He walked out then, and the parents followed.
Outside, Henry turned to Duncan. “I must say, this was surprising, but I’m thrilled that you told him off.”
“I can stop it, if you want. But I don’t allow clients to disrespect me.”
Martina waved at him. “Spencer is a brat. He deserves all the scolding he can get. I wonder sometimes how my sweet boy became such a monster.” She stifled a sob and took her phone out. “I have to cancel my gym session with the girls… I hope they’ll let him home soon.”
“They said tomorrow morning… Could you pick him up, Mr Lambert? I have to go back to work, and Martina is busy with organizing a fundraising party…”
“Sure.”
“You’ll get a car, of course. Spencer has an assigned car, and we expect you to drive. Come, let’s have that coffee…”
They walked to a posh cafeteria and sat down, ordering two coffees, and a cappuccino for Martina who was lost in her phone.
Henry twirled his napkin. “So… as I said, driving him around, taking him to events… Spencer is a painter, sort of… and he’s also a model… when he can walk straight, because he also has penchant for alcohol and partying, as you might have guessed. He lives at home, the house is big enough, and he’s free to bring whomever he wants home… I’d just need you to check that they’re not a danger to him. You’d go on his trips and holidays with him, and his events, but you know your job. Your lodging, when you’re at the mansion, would be in the security building. We have small flats for staff, I hope that’s fine.”
He nodded, drained a bit. “I don’t need much…”
“Good. Of course, when you travel with Spencer, you’d sleep next door.”
