Read Online Pent Up by Damon Suede - Free Book Online

case. She looked between them. “You boys good here?”
    Ruben nodded, unsure what she meant.
    “Thanks, doll.” Bauer saluted her. “You’ll have a bite, then.”
    The hell? Ruben waited two breaths before he looked up at his boss.
    “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have space up here.”
    Ruben nodded. Two guest rooms upstairs and one down the hall. The idea scared the shit out of him. He wanted to stay and needed to run.
    Bauer pointed. “Stop panicking. I don’t believe in the wrong side of the tracks, Rube.”
    Ruben shrugged. “I grew up in South Miami. Both sides of the tracks were wrong.”
    His boss didn’t elaborate. His waist buzzed and then he was talking to the air again, holding up a wait-a-sec finger at Ruben and speaking loudly in French.
    Without waiting for a reply, Bauer walked back toward the office. The door shut behind him.
    Ruben knew he didn’t need to stay. Better that he go home and try to get some rest. He already felt off-kilter, and a vague thirsty pressure rose in him that he recognized. Insidious and powerful, the itch for one drink to take the edge off. What could it hurt? The idiot urge to medicate his anxiety was a golden oldie by this point.
    Stop right there, kiddo. Peach in his head.
    Ruben drifted into the dining room, where the flame teak table was set for two with sterling utensils and minimalist bone china, $750 a place setting, easy. Three glasses at each chair, for water, white, and red respectively, and each light as a tulip.
    He spun the glass like a blossom in his blunt fingers.
    “All the way from Prague.” Bauer spoke right behind him. His breath smelled like orange peel.
    Caught. How does he materialize like that? Ruben tried not to tense and put a couple feet between them. “Nice.”
    “Handblown, but Czech crystal is the best.” Bauer considered him with those relentless blue-gray eyes. “You can stay for dinner.” Not asking anymore.
    Ruben dodged. “I bet these cost a hundred-fifty, two hundred bucks apiece, right?”
    “I dunno.” Bauer scratched his head absently, and a muscle ticked at the angle of his oversquare jaw. “I had brandy out of a snifter at the Boscolo in Old Town.” He picked up a glass with his long, loose fingers. “I’d never felt anything so right in my hand. Y’know?”
    “Bauer, I wasn’t giving you grief. It’s a nice glass.”
    “I used to be an asshole to my parents for buying expensive shit, and my mom said you have to pay for art or else artists starve. And this is art.” The glass glittered in his grip.
    “True.”
    “The man who made that probably lived for six months off what I spent at his little shop. He didn’t grow up in Scarsdale with a triple trust fund, but I did, so I feel like I can throw a bone. Even the shit I do for fun makes money.” He swept a hand at his bear skull and the silk rug and the zillion-dollar view of Manhattan laid out like a willing sinner. “Plus for an added bonus, it drove my stepfather crazy .” A manic smile.
    Ruben nodded like the family drama meant anything to him.
    “Not like I don’t know how lucky I am, Ruben. I know I won that lottery.” He sounded lonely.
    “I know. It’s cool. I know you do.” Why did his new employer feel the need to make a case? Ruben drifted back toward him.
    “Anybody can rip people off. If you make serious money you have to leave the world better. Charity. Art. Anything.”
    Ruben snorted. The belly of the glass filled his palm perfectly. “See what you mean. And you can afford it.”
    Bauer grinned. The shark had vanished and the ragdoll returned. “I mix business with pleasure whenever I can.”
    “No shit.” Ruben shook his head in disbelief.
    “So… dinner. Food’s already prepped if you want to grab a chair. Chef’s gone. It’s just us, so we’re gonna rough it.”
    “I bet.” And just like that, Bauer made the decision, which pleased and terrified him. He’s keeping me here.
    Whistling, he returned with a pork thing