Free Men of London 03 - Suit Yourself by Susan Mac Nicol

Leslie’s fine-boned ones. The touch of the other man
grounded him and he carried on.
    “I broke some ribs, my left arm and a couple
of my fingers. I had a ruptured spleen and as well as the side of
my face being damaged, it affected my eye. Tore the muscle which is
why it droops slightly. My right arm was virtually ripped open from
wrist to shoulder and I have bad scarring along it, along with a
bit of muscle loss. But physical therapy helped me get it back to
almost normal. It just aches sometimes and I can’t pick up anything
too heavy.”
    “Oh my God.” Leslie’s face was white and
Oliver saw his eyes glistening. “I’m so glad you made it out alive.
I mean, it could have been much worse.”
    Oliver sighed tiredly. “I was very lucky to
avoid blood poisoning afterward. The emergency services were quick
to get me to hospital, and I had the best medical care money could
buy. My film studio, Vanguard, went all out on that one.” He
tightened his fingers around Leslie’s.
    “I spent a long time in hospital, having
plastic surgery and skin grafts for it all.” His memories of the
pain and frustration he’d suffered through too many surgical
procedures made his stomach lurch. “And this…” he motioned toward
his face, “was the end result.” He gave a twisted smile. “As well
as some other nice scars.”
    Rounded off by having my
lover of a year walk out because he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
And getting over a cocaine addiction.
    “Where was your family?” Leslie asked.
“Didn’t your parents help you though this?”
    Oliver shook his head ruefully. “My folks
live in Australia. Dad works a low-paid job and Mum is a housewife.
They still don’t know about my time in the porn industry. I didn’t
want them ever knowing either, so I didn’t tell them about the
accident until after it was all over and I was much better. They
had no money to come out here. It would have bankrupted them and
they may have found out what their son was doing.” He gave a tired
laugh. “I just told them I’d had a fall off the bike but never told
them how bad it was. I haven’t seen them face-to-face in years. We
Skype now and then and I make sure they can’t see my face
properly.”
    “God, that’s so sad, having to lie to your
folks like that. My folks live in Scotland with my older brother,
Nathan. I see them now and then.” Leslie managed a wistful smile.
“I think you look a lot like Jon Bon Jovi with that shaggy-hair
look. He’s damn hot; well, he was when he had that hair style. And
I rather like the metrosexual bearded look.”
    “Thank you,” Oliver said softly. “I don’t get
too many compliments anymore on how I look.”
    Leslie’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward,
pursing soft lips that Oliver really wanted to kiss. “That, my
friend, is because you don’t get out much. It’s your own damn fault
for hiding away in that house with only a wardrobe of suits to keep
you company.” He grinned and Oliver’s insides melted. “I know about
your love of them, of course. I’ve seen your website. Plus I looked
back at your purchases. You, my friend, have a problem. You must
have bought about twenty suits from Debussy’s over the past couple
of years.” He made a moue. “Not that it’s a problem. Keeps me in a
job buying that fabric you love so Laverne can make your suits. She
loves you, by the way. You’re her best customer.”
    Oliver chuckled. “No doubt she does. Her
designs just have this appeal for me; they’re so classic and sexy.
I can’t help myself.”
    Leslie cluck clucked. “Then we need to get
you out and about in them more. Show you off.”
    Oliver shook his head, his heart heavy. “Not
going to happen, Leslie. I go out only when I have to. Otherwise
I’m fine by myself. I’ve managed so far.”
    Leslie’s eyes softened. “I didn’t mean get
you out in the middle of a film premiere with 101 cameras sighted
on you, doofus. I meant perhaps going to a great dinner in