Husband for the Holidays

Husband for the Holidays
Red and Green Eyed Monster

“You should have seen the boys with the tree decorations. They were like new toys. I almost got Cameron to throw one to me. He’s so much more dextrous than Beckett. Maybe he’ll be into sports. Peter used to play hockey.” Preston nattered on as he slumped down on the sofa, half-leaning against Carter. His blond hair matted slightly against the sweat on his forehead.

Carter brushed Preston’s hair back and smirked like the cat that ate the canary. Smug bastard. “How are you still talking? I was trying to suck out the last of those precious blond brain cells.”

Shifting a little, Preston mustered the strength to tug his boxers back up to cover his spent cock. Carter’s saliva was still wet along the shaft. “You’re an ass.”

“One of my fantastic qualities. Want to go back to the bedroom?” Carter murmured, his hand continued to lightly stroke over Preston’s hair.

“No, it’s nice here.” Preston answered, his words muffled slightly against Carter’s shoulder.

Despite the clutter, the gaudy lights, the cheap decorations, and the recent, unidentified stains on his carpet and arm of his sofa, Carter agreed. It was nice. The babies were even quiet, small miracle. And the gorgeous, sated young man pressed against his side didn’t hurt. Funnily enough, he had a hard time remembering what he did with his free time before Preston and the boys moved in. He spent a lot of it at his club, micromanaging projects there. And he supposed he had spent some of it picking up strangers and screwing them. It seemed so two dimensional, especially compared to his life now, with the babies and Preston. His husband.

Carter’s fingers stroked lightly at the ends of Preston’s blond locks, lost in thought. The younger man was quiet, and Carter suspected that Preston might even be sleeping. Preston had a habit of falling asleep soon after sex (Carter thought it was adorable, though the man wouldn’t admit it).

It wasn’t until Preston spoke that Carter realized he wasn’t sleeping at all. “I forgot to ask about your mom. How did that go?”

Preston could feel Carter tense up before answering. “It went. I invited her for dinner after the holidays.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Preston inquired. “It’s a somewhere to start.”

“I don’t know. There was a time I would have done just about anything to get her back into my life. But now…? Maybe it’s too late.”

It wasn’t too late. Of that Preston was sure. Carter’s mom was still alive, so it wasn’t too late. But Preston knew Carter didn’t need to hear that. “I think it’s good you’re at least giving it a try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“I could let her in and she could leave. Again.”

Preston’s heart broke a little bit, seeing his powerful, authoritative boss, for a moment, as a lost young teen, abandoned, forced from his home, wanting his mother back. He turned on the sofa wrapped his arms around Carter and lay his head on his shoulder, pressing their bodies closer hips to shoulders.

After a moment, Carter glanced down at him, brow creasing slightly. “What are you doing? Are you cuddling? Is this cuddling?”

“Yes. Now shut up. You’re ruining it.”

XoX XXX XoX

“What are your plans today?” Preston asked the next morning, leaning back against the kitchen counter, stirring his coffee absently.

Carter looked up from the Globe and Mail on his iPad. The babies were occupied in their highchairs a handful of Cheerios on each tray. “No plans, why? Did you want to do something?”

“I do. I was going to see if Cora could watch the boys, but if you’re going to be around… I’ll only be a few hours, but if it’s too much trouble, I can get a baby sitter. I know you’re not responsible for them…”

“Preston. Take a breath. I don’t mind watching them.”

Preston smiled appreciatively, taking a sip from his mug. “Thanks, Boss.”

“So where are you running off to?”

“Going out for lunch with a friend. Declan? You met him briefly at the gala. We went to high school together.”

“Ah.” Carter flipped the pages on his iPad with artificial interest. “You’re meeting him alone?”

“Huh? Well, I’m meeting him at Table 9, that seasonal place downtown. So it’s not like we’d be alone. But it’s just going to be the two of us meeting, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I don’t think you should go.”

“Huh? Why?”

Carter put down his iPad, ending the façade of paying attention to it. “I’m saying no.”

Preston’s mug banged on the counter as he set it down abruptly. “Excuse me? What gives you the right to say no?”

“I’m your husband.”

“Not my real husband.” Preston frowned. “And even if you were …”

“The marriage is real.”

“Well, technically I guess it is. But we know it’s not real real.”

“No one else is supposed to know, however.”

“Stephen knows,” Preston challenged. “And I doubt Declan is planning on tracking Ms. Cook down at Child Services and blowing our cover. Besides, I’m not doing anything that needs to be hidden. I’m meeting a friend for lunch. Married people do that all the time.”

Carter worked his jaw, drawing in a slow breath, pushing his jealousy down. “Fine go.”

Preston picked up his coffee again, glaze slightly suspicious. Carter’s attitude seemed out of character. “Fine. I will.”

XoX XXX XoX

Beckett squealed, hearing the ding of elevator. Carter came out of the office.

Preston was in the hall pulling his coat on. He explained shortly, “That’ll be Declan. I buzzed him up because he said he wanted to meet the boys.”

When the elevator doors did open, it was indeed Declan, wearing a thick grey ski jacket and jeans, cheeks ruddy from the cold outside. He smiled to Preston first. “Hey. Nice place you have here.”

“Come on in for a minute,” Preston offered.

For the adjoining living room, Beckett made a squawk for attention, tossing a stuffed dog out of the playpen.

With a smile, Preston walked over and lifted the little boy up out of the pen, jiggling him up and down to make him giggle.

Carter interjected, “I’d watch that, McCall, I fed him not to long ago.”

Preston stopped the bouncing.

Declan steeped forward, nodding his head politely, “Mr. Jameson.” Then he turned to Preston and Beckett, “So, this is the baby.”

“One of them.”

Cameron stood in the playpen, watching stoically.

“They’re adorable.”

Carter’ jaw tightened as he looked over to where Declan left the elevator and was trying to insert himself into the conversation.

Preston smiled turning towards the taller, lankier man. “They’re a handful.”

Declan smiled. “Tough time of it?”

“You have no idea.” Preston grouched lightly. “They can be terrors.”

Carter felt the need to defend them. “They’re babies.”

“May I?” Declan asked politely, reaching out towards Preston. Preston grinned a little, passing the baby over. Carter crossed his arms over his chest to avoid reaching out and snatching Beckett back. He was a baby, not show-and-tell.

Beckett scrunched up his nose and began to fuss when placed into unfamiliar hands. He turned his discontented, blue eyes to Carter and strained his arms towards him, crying more vigorously, “Carrrrrr!”

Declan snickered, holding him awkwardly under the armpits, “He’s got a good set of lungs, hey.”

“Carcarcar!”

Beckett’s tears rolled steadily down his cheeks. Carter bit his fingers into his arms under the sleeves of suit to stop from reaching for the baby. He leaned one hip lazily against the doorway, but his dark eyes were anything but lazy. He followed Declan’s every move with Beckett and Preston, unblinking, like a predator eyeing its prey.

Declan made the mistake of looking up and almost dropped the baby when he saw the threatening glower in the Carter’s eyes. He quickly looked away from Carter to Preston. “No wonder you wanted to go out for lunch. You wanted to escape the crying for a while.”

Preston politely laughed with him, and Carter shifted restlessly. Preston’s laugh was much too open, too sexy for his liking.

“Well, we should probably be going, Pres.” Declan shifted to hold Beckett out. “I got us reservations for 1 o’clock.”

“Right, of course.” Preston took Beckett back, tossing the other man what Carter irritably considered a flirtation smile. “I’ll just be one second.”

“Sounds good. Mr. Jameson.” With another nod, Declan retreated back to the elevator.

Preston turned and held the baby out to Carter, “Could you take him while I get my wallet?”

Impatiently, Carter took Beckett who clung to his neck, wiping a teary, snotty face on his collar. They both watched as Preston collected his wallet and glasses. He leaned into the playpen to press a kiss to Cameron’s head and then paused in front of Carter and kissed Beckett’s cheek. “See you guys later.”

Preston joined Declan in the elevator and with a wave, they were gone.

With Beckett still cradled against his chest, Carter wandered over the windows. From there he could see Preston and Declan leave the building. He watched them get in a cab, and watched them drive off. Trying to block out the agitation he was feeling, Carter reminded himself it was just lunch, and that Preston would be back in a few hours. But damn it, he had to face facts. The marriage wasn’t meant to last; sooner rather than later Preston was going to leave for good.

And he had to make damn sure his heart didn’t leave with him.

XoX XXX XoX

It was five o’clock when Preston arrived back at the condo. It wasn’t that late, but the days were short and it was already getting dark.

As he was kicking his boots off in the front hall, Carter came down the hallway wearing an elegant, slate-grey suit. He looked gorgeous and Preston felt his blood pump a little faster.

“How was your lunch?” Carter asked with deceptive indifference.

“It was good. The food was excellent and catching up with Declan was a lot of fun.”

“Good, I’m so glad.”

Preston walked a little closer, reaching up to try to slide his hands over Carter’s shoulders. “You’re looking hot, Boss. But what’s with the three piece suit? Going in to work?”

Carter blocked his reach, unemotionally moving out the way. “I’m going out.”

Preston looked puzzled, his arms dropped to his sides. “Out? Where?”

“On a date.”

“A date…”

“Mm.” Carter made a sound of agreement, twining a scarf around his neck before reaching for his jacket.

“Like…a date with a man?”

Carter paused, giving Preston a scornful look. “Well, I don’t exactly hook up with women, do I?”

“Hook up?”

“Yes. Wes Zibrita.” Carter mentioned the name casually, though his gaze was cruel. “Do you remember him? He used to work at the club.”

Preston remembered the tall, fair-haired Wes. He remembered Wes hustling at the club and going down on anything with a pulse in the back room. The bottom of Preston’s stomach dropped out. They hadn’t discussed their new relationship. But…they were living together, and they were having sex. Lots of sex. Incredible sex. For Preston sex had always equated to monogamy. The sting of betrayal was strong because apparently Carter didn’t feel the same way.

“What’s that look for? You made it perfectly clear we’re free to see other people.”

“Yeah, of course. But there is a difference between seeing a friend and seeing some guy you plan on hooking up with.”

Carter just hardened his gaze.

“I didn’t have sex with Declan, for God’s sake,” Preston stressed just in case that wasn’t clear. “He’s just a friend.”

“That’s not my problem. Call him back for all I care, he can come back over and screw you all night. If the last few days have proved anything it’s that you’re gagging for a hard dick.”

Preston’s eyes swam with hurt. “Carter. Don’t.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Fuck if I know what you’re doing,” Preston snapped, “But you’re dreaming if you think I’m going to keep sleeping with you after you insult me and go out and screw Wes Zibrita tonight.”

Carter shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say about it?”

“You’re gorgeous, McCall. And, yes, I wanted to screw you. That’s why I agreed to help you out.” Preston flinched, it was ignored. “And don’t get me wrong, it was good. But let’s not pretend it’s more than what it is.”

“And what is it?”

“A fuck and a scam marriage.”

Carter left and Preston didn’t make another attempt to stop him.

XoX XXX XoX

Carter felt like shit the next morning as he dragged himself into the elevator to go up to the condo. His eyes felt red and dry, his muscles stiff and sore. His jaw was shadowed with stubble and his clothes were badly wrinkled. He hadn’t gotten much sleep. All he wanted to do was have a hot shower and fall into his bed. Well, maybe check on the boys first. Check on Preston.

He walked into a silent apartment. No crying, no laundry on, no cartoons in the TV, no sound of Preston playing with the boys.

He walked in farther and caught sight of Preston. The blond was on his knees on the in the living room, wearing his faded university sweatshirt, glasses sliding lower on his nose as he tossed toys into a brown cardboard box.

He didn’t look up, even when Carter spoke, voice strangely throaty, “Where are the boys?”

“At Cora’s. She’s going to let us stay there for a while. I just needed to get some things.”

“What?” Carter stopped in the entranceway between the rooms, sure he had heard wrong.

“Cora’s going to let us stay with her,” Preston repeated evenly, c losing the box up and standing, brushing the knees of jeans off.

“You’re leaving?” Carter asked with excessive neutrally.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why? Really? You’re going to ask me that?” Preston demanded.

“It’s two days until Christmas…”

Preston rolled his eyes. “So? What difference does that make?”

“You haven’t opened your present.” Before Preston could tell him where he could shove his present, Carter crossed the living room with long strides, grabbing a box from under the shabbily decorated tree. He returned with it, thrusting it in Preston’s hands.

Preston held it for a moment, unsure if he should even open it.

“Just look at it,” Carter instructed.

Exhaling heavily, Preston torn the paper off.

The leather box inside had a small crown imprint. Rolex. Eyes widening, he opened the box. The watch that sat inside was even nicer than the one around Carter’s own wrist. Gold that matched his wedding ring, champagne coloured dial with diamonds where the numbers should be. His fingers tingled numbly and he almost dropped the box. He was holding something with the equivalent cost of a car. Holy shit.

Carter was watching him impassively. “Like it?”

“It’s… incredible.”

“Good.” Carter nodded his head dismissively, “Go ahead and put your stuff back. I’ll order dinner then we can go pick up the babies.”

Whoa, wait. What the hell? Preston’s head jerked up. Was Carter thinking he could buy him? The lid on the box snapped shut. “Ah, I can’t take this…”

“Why not?” Carter demanded harshly.

“It’s too much, Carter…”

Features so hard they could be carved from stone, Carter regarded him. “Did you want something else?”

“Carter…”

“Just tell me what you want,” Carter growled impatiently. “I can afford it.”

Fuck. Was that really what Carter thought about him? That he could be a complete asshole and treat Preston like shit and then buy him something expensive enough to make up for it? “I can’t take this, Carter.” He tried to hand it back, but Carter didn’t take it, so he set it on the counter. “And I can’t stay here.”

There was a moment of silence, tension stretched taut. Carter finally demanded, “What about Child Services?”

“What about it?”

“There are going to be more home visits. You and the boys actually have to be home for them.”

Preston didn’t know why that hadn’t occurred to him before. His stomach lurched. “I’ll figure something out…” And he would. There was no way he would let the twins be taken away.

“You can stay here.”

“Carter…”

“No,” Carter barked. “I’ll stay somewhere else. You and the boys can stay here, at least until the holidays are over.”

Preston swallowed. “You don’t have to do this. I can figure something out…”

“Let me pack a bag. Then I’ll be gone.” Without waiting for any sort of response, Carter pivoted around and headed back towards the master bedroom.

Letting out a long breath, Preston sank down the on sofa, dropping his head into his hands.

XoX XXX XoX

“Why don’t you go get some fresh air, Sugar?”

Preston looked up from his spot sitting on the floor in front of the sofa. Beckett and Cameron were playing on the mat in front of him, but honestly he hadn’t even been paying attention to them, staring off into space instead.

It was Cora who had made the suggestion. Yesterday when he had phoned to tell her he and boys would be staying at Carter’s after all, she had insisted on bring the babies back over in a taxi. When she had seen the state Preston was in, she had insisted on staying, too. Now she stood in the entrance from the kitchen, hands on her hips, gaudy green and red sequin dress hitching up her thighs.

“You don’t have to take care of me, Cora. It’s Christmas Eve. You must have better places to be…”

“Nope. Timothy’s at his family’s and trust me his 80-year-old mother is not up to meeting me.”

“What about your family?”

“Oh, Sugar, they’d welcome Cory. But Cora is not on their invitation list. And we’re sort of a package deal. You’re stuck with me tonight.”

Preston smiled weakly. He really was grateful for her company; he just couldn’t seem to get in a better mood.

“Go. Take a walk or something, Preston Honey. You haven’t moved from that spot in hours. I’ll watch the babies.”

Reluctantly, Preston got up and put on his boots and coat. “I won’t be long…”

“We’ll be waiting for you,” Cora chirped.

XoX XXX XoX

Hands shoved into his coat pockets for warmth, Preston trudged down the icy sidewalk. Cora had been right, by the time he was coming back around the block, the crisp, outdoor air had made him feel better, or at least it had woken him out of his daze a little. He was still pissed at Carter though. For the things he had said, and for the way he had deliberately ruined what was growing between them. And for what? Wes fucking Zibrita?

He was less than excited when a familiar white, vintage mustang slowed down behind him. He kept walking.

“McCall…”

Preston heard his name being called. He also recognized the voice. He keep walking, he had no interest in talking to Stephen.

“McCall!”

He heard a car door open and close. He walked a little faster and was almost to the door to the building when a hand grabbed his elbow.

“Would you just stop, dammit?”

With a growl, Preston jerked his elbow out of Stephen’s grip. “Let go!”

Stephen let go, holding his hands up pacifyingly. “Ok, ok. I just needed to talk to you.”

Preston stared at him mulishly.

Stephen exhaled, with a huff. “Just hear me out? Please. It’s Christmas Eve. I don’t think you can ignore a begging man on Christmas Eve.”

Crossing his arms over his chest defensively, Preston set his jaw. “Fine. Talk.”

Stephen glanced around. There were several curious onlookers watching them from the sidewalk. “Not here.”

“Forget it, then.” Preston started walking away again.

“Just come sit in my car,” Stephen entreated. “We can talk there. Just for a minute.”

Preston didn’t say anything, but he didn’t protest as Stephen led him back to the mustang, unlocking it.

Preston slid into the passenger seat and Stephen got in the driver’s side.

Preston stared out the windshield and jolted a little when Stephen started the car up. He relaxed when it became apparent the other man was just putting the heater on, not planning on driving away.

“I saw Carter at the club this morning. Trouble in paradise?”

“Screw you.” Preston snapped.

“Fine, fine, no sense of humour about it.” Stephen turned in the seat to look at Preston. “Listen. I don’t know what happened, but I do know Carter looks like shit and he snapped at everyone, including me, and you’re not exactly a bundle of sunshine. So clearly whatever it is that happened, you’d both benefit from working it out.”

Preston stayed stubbornly quiet.

“Come on, out with it.”

The words burst from Preston’s lips, “He freaked about me seeing a friend, we got in a fight, and then he screwed Wes.”

“Oh…” Stephen winced a little. “Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but for Carter that doesn’t really mean anything. When he fucks, he doesn’t involve emotions in it.”

A scoff escaped Preston’s lips.

“It’s true,” Stephen insisted. “Did Carter tell you how we became friends?”

Preston shook his head.

“When his mom and step-dad threw him out, he came to live at my house. My dad and his absentee father were like third cousins twice removed. My dad is a hard-ass, but he was big on taking on responsibilities, so when he found out Carter had nowhere to live, he moved him into my room, thinking that because we were the same age, we’d get along.” Stephen smiled ruefully at the memory. “We didn’t. Not at all. I was a shit because I resented him just moving into my space and Carter, well, Carter didn’t want anything to do with me. The nicer people were to him, the shittier he acted. He was so determined not to let anyone get close. It was years before we became anything approaching friends, and even now, 20 years later, there are still barriers he has up.”

Preston wasn’t sure what to say. He knew Carter carried scars from being kicked out as a teenager.

“He’s never had a problem hooking up with guys.” Stephen continued. “Fucking them and moving on. That’s how I knew you were different.”

Preston looked over then.

“He didn’t fuck you. I remember the first day I saw you at the club. He had you working his precious VIP section – even back then when you didn’t know a Dalmore from a Chivas Regal from a bottle of swill. I thought for sure he was lining you up for a quick lay. But he didn’t. He just watched you. For five years he watched you. He didn’t screw you but he didn’t try to get close to you either. That’s when I knew you were special.”

“Oh, come on,” Preston derided.

“It’s true. Then he up and married you. Turned his whole life upside down for you. Because he’s so emotionally stunted he couldn’t think of a better way to create a bond with you.”

“It wasn’t like that…I was in trouble. He was only helping me out. I needed help to get the twins…”

“You’re not that naïve, McCall. If it hadn’t been the twins, he would have found some other fucked up way to get you where he wanted you.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I think you care, too. If I’m wrong, and you don’t care, then fine. Walk away. But if you do, even a little, then try to work it out, because if you do leave him, give up on him like his mother did… Well, it will be worse than the earrings.”

Preston’s head tilted slightly with interest, “The earrings?”

“The first winter Carter lived with us. He was a boy possessed. He did errands for my dad, shoved driveways, sold off his shit to other kids at school. Anything to make some money. He collected it all a shoebox he kept on the shelf by his bed. Then, a week before Christmas, it was all gone. He spent it all, like over a hundred bucks, on these hideous earrings. Gold plated, with two, tiny, green crystals.” Preston drew his bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he could feel where this was going. Stephen continued, “He wrapped them up, like three or four times, trying to make it perfect. Then he took the bus across town to give them to his mother.”

“And?” Preston prompted.

“I saw the earrings in the trash the next morning and asked him about it.” Stephen shrugged. “All Carter would say was she hadn’t wanted them. But what he really meant was she hadn’t wanted him. When she rejected his attempt at getting her back, well, he stopped trying. He never even mentioned her again.”

It was impossible not to see the similarities. The hundred dollar crystal earrings were now a 15 thousand dollar Rolex watch, but the significance hadn’t changed. Carter trying to bribe someone to stay, not knowing what else to do, and not expecting that someone would want to stay just for him. Preston’s chest ached. “Fu-uck,” he breathed out.

Stephen gave Preston a sombre look. “It may not be fair, but if you want this to work, you’re going to have to be one who tries. The one who stays. The one who fights for it.”

It was silent in the mustang, except for the soft blow of the heater.

Stephen gave him a look. “So?”

“So… I want it to work.” Preston mumbled. “But, he’s still an asshole.”

Stephen cracked a smile, reaching over and laying a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “Yes. But, see, the thing is…that’s because he loves you. And if the depth of his current asshole-ness is any indication, he loves you a whole hell of a lot.”

XoX XXX XoX

It was deathly quiet after Preston put the boys to bed on Christmas Eve. Cora had taken the guest room and Preston suspected she was asleep, too.

Preston wasn’t looking forward to the next day. Christmas, all alone. No Peter, no Sophie, no Carter.

He walked over to the turn the lights off on the tree. There was a present underneath wrapped in a dark green paper that he didn’t recognize. Curious, he pulled it out from under the branches of the tree and inspected the to/from tag. It was for the boys, from Carter.

Preston held it in his hands for a moment, wondering about the contents. It was a rectangular present, not too heavy or to light in his hands.

Had Carter made an attempt to buy the babies affections, too? A few stacks of bills? A Tiffany box with ruby encrusted pacifiers?

It wasn’t actually Christmas yet, but Preston was too curious to wait. He pulled off the paper. It was the copy of the Christmas Carol he had seen Carter reading to the boys a few days ago. He leafed through it. The pages were yellowing slightly, the cover tattered. Monetarily, it didn’t seem to be worth much. On the cover page, however, Preston caught sight of something. On upon closer inspection it was in inscription. To Carter, Merry Christmas, Dad. Under it, in Carter’s dark, bold writing, there was a newer inscription. To Beckett and Cameron, Love Carter.

Well, hell.

Preston sat down heavily on the sofa, holding the book. He thought about what Stephen had said. If he wanted Carter, he’d have to be the one to fight for him.

Okay, then, bring it on.

XoX XXX XoX

First thing in the morning, Preston begged Cora to stay a little longer and watch the boys. She agreed readily when he explained he needed to go down to the club and convince Carter to come back.

It took a while to get there, Carter’s driver had the day off, and the bus was running on a reduced schedule. When he got downtown, there were only a handful of cars near the club. Despite being Christmas, the club would be open that night. And even now there would be people inside; dancers getting some extra practice, managers finalizing schedules, Carter running things.

Rounding the corner outside, he saw Mishka. The petite, Russian dancer wasn’t alone. Two men were blocking his path to the club. As Preston watched one reached out and shoved Mishka in the chest, sending him off balance and falling against the other man. These strangers did not look like good news. Both big and ugly with ill-fitting jackets and stained jeans.

Preston jogged closer. “Hey! What’s going on here?”

The man in front of Mishka with a bald head, looked over at him and snarled, “Nothing. Mind your own business.”

Preston inserted himself between Mishka and the men. He was more their height, though not as big. “Well, I figure it is my business, because I work at this club and this is my friend.”

Baldy looked at him nastily, top lip lifting in a sneer, “You work here, too, fag?”

The second spoke up, “Because we’re trying to send your boss a message.” He had a red bandana poking out from under his toque. Preston suspected it was gang colours.

“See,” Baldy continued shoulders squaring aggressively, “He’s trying to run us out of business.”

It took Preston only a second to put that together. The coke. These men must be suppliers.

“Mishka. Go get Carter…or Timothy or Greg.”

“But, Preston…” The waiflike dancer didn’t look too sure about leaving Preston alone with the men.

“Go, Mishka, now.” Preston snapped firmly.

The big man with the hat grabbed for Mishka, but Preston knocked his arm away, bodily blocking him.

The dancer ran into the building, boots clomping on the cement.

Preston straightened his shoulders, blustering, “Why don’t you guys just get lost?”

“I don’t think we want to do that, pretty boy.” Baldy grabbed the front of his jacket. “We haven’t sent our message yet.”

“Security will be here any minute.” Preston cautioned, never taking his wary eyes off the two men.

“Then I guess we better get started.”

Preston dodged the first fist that flew towards him, but the second caught the side of his face, sending him stumbling back and making his ears ring. He fought back, landing a few punches of his own. But he was outnumbered. The first man grabbed his arms, wrenching them back behind his back; the other man started punching him repeatedly; in his head, chest, stomach. The air was forced from his lungs.

He heard shouting. The man behind him let go and he staggered. The sidewalk rushed up to meet him. The edges of his vision went grey and then blackness swallowed him up.

XoX XXX XoX