Talking It Out by R. J. Moray

Author:R. J. Moray [Moray, R. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-11T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

“Thanks, Channon,” Nate was saying, leading the way back through Diana’s house. “You have no idea how much it sucks to be asked for tech support from people you barely know.”

“Um. I worked help desk,” Channon said, wondering if that was out of line. They were at a party, and it wasn’t exactly high-protocol, but Channon was wearing his collar and generally that meant being on his best behavior. No back-talk, no cheek, no argument. But that was with Jack. Maybe it was different with Nate, who was generally far more relaxed.

In any case Nate just grinned. “Yeah, so you were being paid. Makes a hell of a lot of difference. Ooh, snacks.” He diverted to a table loaded with dishes of finger food—baked things and fruit slices. “Did you want something?”

“No thankyou, Mr Scott,” Channon said, thinking that yeah, he kinda did, but at this kind of party he didn’t feel one hundred percent confident in just helping himself to food, and he definitely didn’t want Nate to hand-feed him. That was a Jack thing. He wanted it from Jack, only.

Unless of course Jack told him to let Nate feed him. That was different. He didn’t mind if Jack said.

“Ah, Nathaniel.”

The sound of that voice sent a shiver through him. Channon dropped his chin, tucking his hands behind his back, and held very still.

“Hello, Mr White. You’re looking sharp, as usual.”

“And you are charming, as usual.” Mr White sounded amused. “I see you have forgone your usual company tonight. I hope everything is well with you.”

“Mac’s around,” Nate said, clearly unconcerned. “I was just showing Channon where the bathroom is.”

“Ah. If it is urgent, then he ought to go.”

“I don’t know how urgent it is,” Nate said, and Channon could hear him suppressing a chuckle.

It was humiliating to be talked about like he was a child who needed to go potty. But Channon kept his head down, just listening, until Nate squeezed his upper arm.

“It’s through there,” Nate said, lowering his voice to murmur in Channon’s ear, “if you wanna escape.”

“Thankyou, Mr Scott,” Channon said, taking advantage of this to slink away, conscious of Mr White’s eyes on his back.

The thing with Mr White was that Channon knew how much he disappointed the polished older man with his own unsophisticated ways. He would never be good enough to make Mr White happy. Mr White’s standards were too high, and Channon could beat himself up over it or he could accept it as a fact and know that Jack didn’t care. Because Jack had said it: he didn’t care what Mr White thought of Channon. It was Channon’s job to live up to Jack’s standards, not Mr White’s. It felt good to know that, even when he hated disappointing anyone.

The bathroom was through a sort of mudroom, and Channon used it because he might as well. It was, like the rest of the house, decorated in white, with a lot of white-painted curly fixtures. He checked his hair in the mirror.

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