He forced himself not to think about where Nick wouldn’t be tonight, or who he would be with instead. Now Spencer had to find a way to deal with a suddenly empty Friday night.
The whole weekend was gaping empty, for that matter, since Saturday and Sunday would no longer be reserved for letting aches and bruises fade.
On his way back into the office from lunch, he glanced at Percy’s door. Could always go have drinks with him. Or, it being Friday night, the Market Garden was an option.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a sick feeling squeezed Spencer’s stomach. He wasn’t committed to Nick or anything, and was completely free to see or fuck any man in London or beyond, but he was too uneasy for that. He was still tripping over too much mental debris to consider fooling around with someone else. He wouldn’t be able to relax and 93
enjoy it, so what was the point? Push came to shove, he’d have a wank in the shower to relieve some tension and call it a night.
Drinks, though. Drinks with Percy. That would be a distraction, if nothing else, which would keep his attention off the fact that his primary distraction was off cavorting in Spain.
He tapped on Percy’s door.
“Come on in.”
As Spencer pushed open the door, Percy held up a finger and gestured at the phone cradled on his shoulder. He rolled his eyes and made a blah blah blah gesture, which made Spencer laugh.
He eased himself into one of the chairs in front of Percy’s desk and waited for the man to get off the phone. That didn’t take long; apparently the conversation was already close to wrapping up, because within two minutes, Percy had slammed the receiver down with a bark of “Thank fuck.”
Spencer chuckled. “Having a good day, are we?”
His friend groaned and leaned back in his chair. “I swear on all that’s holy, these motherfuckers are trying to make this merger more difficult.”
“Isn’t that the name of the game with a merger?” Spencer laughed, thankful for the first time in his life to be discussing a damned merger. “Make it as difficult as humanly possible so all the faint of heart jump ship?”
Percy sniffed and rolled his eyes again. “You aren’t kidding.
You know they’re talking about reducing headcount in Tax by half? After the merger?” He slammed a palm onto his blotter.
“It’s already a goddamned skeleton crew down there!”
Spencer grimaced. “Really? Has it dawned on anyone in charge that there’s a reason that department exists? Like, we need them?”
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“Tell that to the bean counters,” Percy muttered, waving a hand. “Anyway, what can I do for you?”
“Just wanted to come by and see if you were booked for the evening. I could stand to go out and drink away the week.”
Percy grinned. “Ah, there’s my lad! I was starting to worry you’d become a weekend hermit.” The grin broadened and his eyes narrowed, and Spencer cringed inwardly as that accusing eyebrow rose. “Or maybe there was a man in your—”
“Perceval.” Spencer glared at him, gesturing sharply at the door. “Do you mind? Walls are thin here.”
“Right, right.” Percy winked. “Okay, so I was thinking maybe there was ‘someone special’ in your life who you were keeping a secret.”
“No, nothing like that. Just . . .” Just what, Spencer?
Percy was tuned in too well into Spencer’s inner voice, because his face asked the same question.
“The merger really drains me.” A merger is like the marriage of two companies, right? One entity can deal quite well on its own. Shit gets complicated when a second entity gets involved. How ironic. “I was fal ing asleep over my files these past weeks.”
“Months, Spencer. I thought I’d liberated you from that existence . . .”
“You certainly gave it a good try.” Spencer inhaled and exhaled deeply, lifted his shoulders in a what-can-you-do gesture. “So . . . liberate me again?”
“Damsel in distress?” Percy grinned. He clearly got a kick out of his Arthurian name.
“I’m not wearing a frock for that. Just . . . I think I need some of your carefully-applied craziness.”
Percy laughed. “Now, that’s a romance if I’ve ever heard one. On such short order, I don’t think I can come up with 95
something really crazy, though a bunch of the guys are abseiling from the Shard.”
“I don’t do well with heights.”
“Paintbal ?”
“In November?”
“Short of pushing the senior partners of that other law firm onto the Tube tracks, that’s all I have at the moment.” He paged through the calendar of his smartphone. “Or what about this kink party on Saturday? There’s a club that only admits pretty people, and they’re holding orgies in the countryside.