Rick must have given up his job, because he was at the hotel every damn day. When I found him sleeping on a mattress in the bar, I realised he had nowhere to live apart from the Haven.
“I have to make this work,” was all he said to me. And he still smiled.
I could have cut ties with the Haven and gone back to tricking elsewhere. Plenty of local bartenders knew I was privately open to offers, if anyone asked. I’d have found somewhere to take the punters that didn’t mean freezing my bollocks off in a cold pub toilet, or dropping to my knees under the Embankment. But either I was too bloody exhausted from being a navvy for Rick Thatcher during the day, or my heart wasn’t in it. Instead, in my free hours, I reconnected with an employment agency that often found me temporary office work and, at the same time, I took every opportunity to pull in favours, to look up old contacts who might hold a soft spot for me—and a couple of connections who’d probably have preferred never to see me again—and I researched a loan for Rick.
Nothing illegal, of course, but I made sure to screw down the interest rate as best I could.
I brought the news to him at the weekend. He was up a ladder in Room 6, replacing the light fittings. I’d always thought the sparking effect was intentionally spooky, but we were long past Halloween. Liam grinned at me cheerily from across the room, brushing away hair on his forehead that was two shades lighter from plaster dust.
I’d rarely visited the rooms on the third floor, as they’d already been out of circulation when I first came here. They were larger than the ones we’d used on the floor below, but with similar features. The Haven had been a private house once, and still had the high ceilings, large windows, and ornate fireplaces of its Victorian design. The storeys had been divided up, years ago, to create the individual hotel rooms, with bathrooms fitted in each, but it had been done with respect.
“How’s it all going?” I asked.
“Everything’s on track to reopen before Christmas,” Liam said brightly. “The old rooms we used? They’re all fixed. Decent hot water at last. Plus, we’re just waiting for the paint to dry on another couple. All be ready soon.” He glanced quickly at Rick. “I mean, ready for whatever Rick has planned for the place.”
“It depends on whether I can pay the suppliers,” Rick said with a sigh. He dropped easily from the ladder to the floor, a large man who moved with his own brand of grace. A handsome man, I thought, though not my type.
Not like the executive style that rocks my world. Or used to.
“Might you have to sell up?” Liam looked shocked.
Rick grimaced. “You’d have to find somewhere else to entertain.”
Liam flushed. “That wasn’t what I meant,” he said angrily.
“I know.” Rick clapped him on the shoulder and turned to me. “Did you want something, Dante?”
“I brought something for you, actually.”
Rick stared at the papers I offered to him. “What’s this?”
“It’s a business loan, if you want it.” For a moment, I wondered if I was offending him, but this had all been Blake’s idea, and Blake should know his own friend. “It’s from a local bank with a good reputation, committed to helping start-up businesses, so it looks at more marginal finances. I mean, it’s a small business itself, so the loan isn’t as much as you might get on the high street.”
Rick still stared. “Well, I’ve tried the high street banks, and there’s been no interest at all. I’ve never heard of these guys.”
I shrugged, but a flush crawled up my neck. “I asked them to take a look, as a favour. I know a new business advisor there.” As in, he used to fuck me now and then, was always decent about paying for a few drinks, and was happy to stay friends when we both moved on to new bed mates. “There’s nothing dodgy about it, Rick, it’s a legitimate offer. I just got the Haven pushed further up the banking slush pile.”
The look of amazement on Rick’s face was reward enough. “You didn’t have to do this for me. How did you know enough…?”
I spared him the embarrassment. “I don’t know your personal finances, of course not. I just worked on estimates of future earnings, using typical room rates around here. The Haven isn’t in the best position, but this is still a busy area of London. Though maybe it’s not enough for what you have planned.”
“God. No, this is great.” His eyes shone. “This is enough to get the elevator fixed, pay the builder’s merchant, and do up the kitchen.”
“And the bar? Liam will be pleased.”
“Arsehole,” Liam said to me, but he was grinning.
I cleared my throat. “Okay. Well, let me know if you need help with the forms. Meantime, I’ve got a date with the wallpapering in Room 3, according to Arne.”
“Dante?” Rick called me as I reached the door. “Will you come here for a drink on Sunday night? I’d like to get all of you together, here at the hotel. Talk about things as a group.”
I wondered what things he meant. “Sure. That’d be good. Um. Will Blake be coming?”
An expression flickered across Rick’s face. Intrigued? Amused? “No, he’s out of town for the week. And this is about the Haven going forward. He’s been great on moral support, but now it looks like you’ve stepped into the breach as my accountant.”
“Yeah. I guess I have, sort of.” I laughed: it felt good. “Okay then.”
Rick’s curious gaze was on me as I left the room. I could feel it on the back of my neck.
Five of us met in the bar again on Sunday night, except this time there was beer, much to Liam’s delight. Arne and Pyotr had rustled up some sandwiches too. I was still having problems getting office work, and I was rationing my supplies at the flat, so the food was much appreciated. I knew Arne would have helped me out if I’d let him, but I had my pride. Another job would come along soon. And, yes, there was always tricking.
“Thanks for coming,” Rick said in that steady, rich voice of his. “I wanted to thank you again for all the help you’ve given me, getting the Haven ready to open again. Which is also what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to open the hotel, but not to the paying public. I’d like to keep it running for you guys. What do you think?”
There was a long moment’s silence.
“You mean, let us still trick out of the Haven?” Liam said slowly.
“Rick, do you know what you’re saying?” Arne’s expression was surprised but hopeful. “I mean, I’ve escorted in plenty of places, but I’ve rarely been offered a specific base to operate from.”
“They’re usually trying to move us on,” Pyotr muttered.
“Sean says it’s illegal to run sex services,” Liam said nervously. “Living off immoral earnings, they call it.” Liam’s brother was a lawyer, and it looked like he and Liam had drawn swords on this topic.
“Well, I don’t want to make money off what you do in your own time,” Rick said firmly. “But I want to offer a comfortable and safe place for you. You can pay for the room, just like you were doing before. As long as it covers the running costs, so I can live here.” He turned back to Arne. “I admire the business you’ve been running here. I’m not really equipped to run a London tourist hotel, but I want to keep the Haven. It just needs to pay its way.”