Top Shelf: A Seacroft Novel Page 9

  “Are you and your brother close?” Seb settled on the couch opposite him.

  That was a complicated question. “He was the only one who was worried about me.” In the time since he’d come to Seacroft, the time he’d spent recovering, talking to doctors and finding a way back to himself again, Martin hadn’t heard from a single one of his colleagues at Mount Garner.

  “And this—” Seb motioned at the store around them. “Working here is, what? Penance? Therapy?”

  “Baby steps. The doctors and Brian and I, we agreed that I should take things slow. Stay somewhere familiar with a support system. Find jobs that were in my comfort zone. And Seacroft isn’t exactly an employment hub so here I am.” Also, if he stayed in academia, the stain of what happened would follow him everywhere. The scandal hadn’t reached the public, but it was known in his small professional circles. Anyone who saw Mount Garner on his CV would ask questions, and Martin didn’t want to face them.

  “It’s my fault,” he sighed. “I should have told someone years ago, but I was afraid what it would—”

  “Why should you do them any favors? I don’t see that they’ve done anything for you.”

  “But maybe if I’d—”

  “Shh.” Seb leaned across the space to clasp Martin’s shoulders. He squeezed him gently, and Martin blinked, shaking off the guilt starting to swallow him. “It wasn’t your fault. They closed ranks, and you got left on the outside. You weren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. It’s how the system works.”

  They gazed at each other. Seb’s eyes were dark, his mouth set in a determined line. He looked ready for battle, but this time, he would be fighting on Martin’s side.

  Penny knew what she was talking about.

  Martin took one of Seb’s hands in his, feeling the strong warmth against his skin.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “Fuck ‘em. They don’t know what they lost. You can join the land of misfit toys with me and Cassidy. You’ll like it here.”

  Cling together, swing together. It was the best offer Martin had heard in a while.

  8

  A week later, Martin was shelving a box of new books when he found something amazing. On the top shelf, above where he was working, was an old copy of Alice in Wonderland. The pages were yellowed, but between the chapters were fly pages: heavy paper with black-and-white illustrations.

  Could Seb use this? Cutting it up still seemed like a shame, but Cassidy said nothing on the top shelves ever sold. Martin tucked it aside to take it up to Seb’s once he was done shelving. Maybe they could have dinner. Martin had gotten paid so he could offer to treat Seb, in return for the Thai food the weekend before.

  The front door groaned open.

  “We’re closing!” he called.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” a man’s voice replied. “I’m just passing through.”

  Martin popped his head out from behind the stacks. A tall African American man in horn-rimmed glasses and a bright plaid scarf smiled at him.

  “Well, hello there.” He carried an umbrella and pointed it in Martin’s direction. “I don’t remember you being here last time I came. And trust me, honey, I’d remember a sweet face like yours.”

  Martin fought a blush. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “No, we have not.”

  If Seb’s usual stride was a swagger, this man sashayed. It was like he’d walked right off the set of Queer Eye and into the bookstore.

  “Kenneth P. Morgenstern. And you are?”

  “Martin.” He shook Kenneth’s hand. His skin was smooth and warm. “Martin Lindsey.”

  “Pleasure. Where have you been hiding?”

  Martin didn’t understand the question. “I was in the stacks?”

  “Kenny?” Seb stood at the end of the aisle, pale skin glowing in the shadows. His face was bright with a wide smile, aimed at the new arrival.

  “Sebastian.” Kenneth put an arm over Martin’s shoulder and walked them both toward Seb. “You didn’t tell me I had a new reason to visit you out here in the backwater. I was just meeting Martin, and he is delightful.”

  “You’re scaring him, Kenny.” Seb’s voice was serious, but his smile was growing. “Let him go.”

  Kenneth’s lips pressed into a pout. “I’m not scary. Am I, Martin?”

  “Well, I’m not—”

  Kenneth released him and clasped Seb in a big hug.

  “Asshole.” Seb laughed.

  “Back at you.” They clapped each other on the back. “Introduce me properly to your friend.”

  Both men turned. Seb beamed at Martin, while Kenneth cocked his head to one side.

  “Martin, this is Kenny,” Seb said.

  “Kenneth,” Kenneth corrected.

  “Kenny,” Seb said firmly.

  Martin grimaced as old feelings of invisibility tried to swallow him. “Nice to meet you.”

  Seb patted Kenneth’s chest. “Kenny and I met in college, and now he’s my agent. He’s also a flirt and a manwhore, so don’t believe a word he says.”

  “Except the part about your sweet face.” Kenneth winked. “You can believe that.”

  “I should get back to work.” Martin ignored the flash of hurt along his sternum as Seb led Kenneth away, their laughter trailing behind them, leaving Martin alone in the store.

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?” Seb asked. Kenneth threw a small overnight bag on the couch.

  “Happy to see me?”

  “That depends on why you’ve appeared in my town with no warning.”

  Kenneth almost never came to Seacroft, preferring to have their meetings over the phone or Skype, or coercing Seb to come up to Raleigh to talk about something really important. Everything about Kenneth was urban and stylish, so nothing about Seacroft fit him.

  Kenneth flipped through a book on Seb’s table, one of the ones he’d found the week before with Martin. It was another pictorial history, a chronicle of the parties and extravagances of the last century’s Hollywood golden age.

  “Oh, I like this,” Kenneth said as he turned the pages.

  “Thanks. But, Kenny, what are you doing here?”

  “Tell me more about that little darling downstairs. He’s cute. A bit twitchy, but I can help him with that.”

  “He’s not on the market.”

  “Honey, you’ve been in White Bread Land too long if you think that boy is straight.”

  “He’s not straight.”

  “Perfect!”

  “Kenny.” Seb clenched his jaw to force the words out slowly. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

  Kenneth flopped down on the couch and sighed. “Anton left.”

  “Who?”

  “I told you about him.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Not that he could recall, but it didn’t matter, Seb had his answer. Kenneth’s latest boy toy had split, and he was bored.

  “Sure I did. Greek. Tattoos. Super flexible?”

  “You should have called first. You know I’m working. And I botched a piece last week so I had to start over. Now’s really not a good time.” Seb moved a stack of books off one of the chairs around his work table so he could sit down.

  “Are you behind?” Kenneth lifted his head off the back of the couch. “How far?” Leave it to Kenneth to switch from personal angst to business in an instant at the first indication of something going off track. With him, business came first. Flexible, tattooed man candy was second.

  “It’s fine. If I work through the weekend,” he leaned on the last word, trying to get Kenneth to take the hint, “and put in a couple more late nights next week, I’ll be mostly back on schedule.”

  “Fine. You always say fine. That’s the other reason I’m here. I’m not sure you know what fine is. Let me see what you’ve got.”

  Seb pulled the pieces for the Schiller exhibit off the shelf, laying them out on the table for Kenneth’s inspection.

  “I’m going to try to get you a reading at the opening,�
� Kenneth said.

  “What? Why?”

  No one had paid much attention to his earlier found poetry works in a while. The pictorial pieces were more accessible and gave Seb a greater variety of material to work from. Despite what Martin might say about a writer’s words being sacred, Seb had always seen it as making something of his own. Drawing inspiration from what was around him. No different than painting sunsets or drawing the faces of the people who came into the bookstore. Martin seemed to be coming around to the idea though. Maybe if Seb read one of the carved works to him he’d understand. He might like poetry. His thesis had been about a poet, so that had to be a good sign, right?

  “Hello?” Kenneth’s hand waved across Seb’s vision, making him blink.

  “Sorry. You were saying?”

  “I was saying it’s time to up your profile. Stop letting people observe your work passively and start having you actively show its depth.”

  He’d created the poems so early in his career. He’d liked the challenge of making the words fit together. Back then, on the rare occasion there had even been a formal opening for a show, he’d only ever been asked to say a few words over a glass of wine before patrons went back to mingling.

  Standing in a gallery, reading from one of the carved poems to an audience, would be a different experience. Kenneth would stand at the front of the group, looking smug. Martin would be there too, and Seb would have to protect him when Kenneth—

  “Hey!” Kenneth’s voice snapped him back to reality again. “Where the hell do you keep going?”

  “Sorry. Sure. Reading. Set it up. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “You’ll crash and burn and become the laughing stock of the North Carolina art community?”

  Sebastian snorted. Kenneth was his biggest cheerleader, but also kept him firmly tethered to reality at all times.

  “So tell me more about the shy boy downstairs.” Kenneth tucked one leg underneath him where he sat.

  “Nope. We’re not going there. You’re like a dog with a bone.”

  “You said he’s single. Why wouldn’t I? Unless you’re already—”

  “No.” A few days had passed since Martin confided his whole story to Seb, and it had stuck with him. He regretted even more giving Martin a hard time about his career, when Martin was doing everything he could to claw back to some semblance of functionality.

  “So you’re not interested in him?” Kenneth grinned.

  Was Seb interested? It was complicated. Martin, with his soft eyes and crooked smile, was cutely uneven. But beyond any attraction was a different kind of desire. Seb was in no position to be anyone’s lifeline, but he wanted to help Martin get back to himself.

  “It’s not like that. He’s just—He’s had a hard time of it lately. He doesn’t need you screwing around with him.”

  “Sounds like it might be exactly what he needs.” Kenneth’s grin turned lascivious.

  “I said no, all right?” Seb’s jaw tightened. Kenneth could never be what Martin needed. He was too selfish. Too flighty. “This is my town and my people, including Martin. You can’t waltz in here unannounced for a weekend and start looking for fuck buddies just because the pool in the city is getting shallow. You’re the one who drained it.”

  Kenneth turned to stare up the ceiling with a weary sigh. “You used to be more fun than this. You need to get out of here more often.”

  Seb ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t mean to lecture, but the idea of Kenneth flirting with and possibly fooling around with Martin made him feel unexpectedly protective. “Sorry. I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping much.”

  Kenneth rose to his feet and pressed his hands to Seb’s cheeks, squeezing them until his lips puckered out. “I understand. You just leave it all to Uncle Kenneth. Now take me out for dinner. Is there anywhere in this town with a menu that isn’t eighty percent deep fried?”

  * * *

  Martin liked Saturdays best. The groups kept the store busy, and Cassidy worked the whole day with him.

  She’d brought him her application packages for art school, though, which was proving challenging. Most of the schools had a general personal statement requirement, and many of the art programs wanted a separate artist’s statement about the vision she had for her work.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She stared down at the blinking cursor on her laptop. “I can’t just tell them I want to go to art school because it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

  “Not the only thing,” Martin said.

  “Just about.” She sounded defeated, and they’d barely started.

  “That’s not true. You’re a big help around here, and I know the Mommy and Me group really appreciates the books you pick out for them every week.” While the chaos of so many pre-schoolers still made Martin flinch, Cassidy seemed to revel in it.

  “Yeah, but that’s not a skill. I’m only good at drawing and picking out kids’ books. I can’t say that in an essay.”

  “People of Seacroft! Good morning!”

  Seb and Kenneth emerged from the shelves. Kenneth’s scarf and umbrella were gone. Instead, he wore a houndstooth sweater and slim fitting pants. Seb walked half a step behind him in his usual jeans and leather jacket, eyes twinkling with amusement as his friend strode through the store.

  “Dr. Lindsey!” Kenneth said as he approached the cash register. “It’s nice to see you again today.”

  Despite his earlier good mood, tension clenched at Martin’s insides. The use of his formal title meant Seb had told Kenneth more about him, and the knowledge that he’d been the topic of conversation twisted in his guts.

  “Hi,” he mumbled, shooting a glance at Seb, whose face was bland.

  “And who are you?” Kenneth’s attention was already on Cassidy. “Your skin, your hair, my dear, you look like a doll. It’s a shame Sebastian isn’t a painter, because you should be someone’s muse.”

  Cassidy twisted one curl around her finger and blushed down at her keyboard. Martin wanted to put an arm around her shoulder, but worried the gesture would draw Kenneth’s attention back to him.

  It didn’t seem to matter, though, because Kenneth beamed at both of them as he did up the buttons of his wool coat.

  “Sebastian and I are going off in search of brunch. We had a late night and need some sustenance. He is a gifted artist and a terrible cook. Would you like to join us?”

  Surprisingly, the part Martin’s brain latched onto was the mention of a late night. Doing what? Was Kenneth Seb’s boyfriend? Seb had never mentioned anything about being with someone, but maybe he kept personal things to himself.

  “They’re working.” Seb’s voice was patient amusement, like he was explaining foreign concepts to a small child.

  Kenneth pouted. “Surely the illustrious Dr. Lindsey could join us? You don’t mind if we borrow him, do you?” This last question was directed toward Cassidy.

  “Oh. No. I couldn’t—” Martin started, but Cassidy shook her head.

  “Why don’t you go? It’ll be quiet here until the knitters are done, and I can try to come up with some ideas for my essay.”

  “See?” Kenneth spread his hands and smiled. “No problem. I don’t get down here often. It’s good to acquaint myself with the people in Seb’s life.”

  Martin frowned over Kenneth’s shoulder again, but Seb didn’t return the look. Martin was in Seb’s life? He was still smarting over the “illustrious” comment, and now he found he really did want to know what Seb said about him. Kenneth’s smug face grated on Martin in every way, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving the two of them alone knowing he was a topic of conversation.

  “Sure.” He forced a smile. “I’ll go with you. Just let me get my coat.”

  * * *

  The brunch options in Seacroft were limited. Martin suggested Penny’s diner, but Seb led them down the street to a small pub. Kenneth looked dubious, which made Martin push ahead of him while Seb assured them the food would be good.


  “They do a real English breakfast. The mushrooms are amazing,” Seb said as they sat in a booth toward the back. He looked at once sophisticated and shabby in his torn jeans and worn jacket, while his hair seemed to have an extra shine. Kenneth sat next to Seb, leaving them to face Martin, who had to look like a wreck. It was laundry day at home, which of course meant he’d gone to get clean clothes out of the dryer only to find them still in a wet ball at the bottom of the washer while Brian gave him a sheepish apology. Martin had been forced to pull out an ancient henley from a box of stuff he’d brought back from Mount Garner. The shirt was faded at the seams, and he’d only noticed the small hole under one armpit once he’d gotten to work. Compared to Kenneth and Seb’s style, Martin felt like the poor cousin they’d just picked up from the bus station.

  Seb and Kenneth struck up a lively conversation, something about a brunch they had been to.

  “Do you remember the waiter there?” Kenneth asked.

  Seb groaned as he took a sip of his coffee. “So pretty. The one with the tattoos! What was his name?”

  “Lewis?” Kenneth waggled his eyebrows.

  “No, not Lewis. Lucas maybe?” They both frowned, and then Seb’s expression cleared. He snapped his fingers, and Kenneth’s face lit with a smile.

  “Levi!” They both said, then dissolved into laughter.

  Martin sat across from them, hands folded in his lap, unease turning in his stomach as their conversation continued without him.

  They ordered quickly: the full breakfast for Seb, an omelet for Kenneth, and yogurt and granola for Martin.

  “Watching your weight?” Kenneth asked from under his eyebrows as the server left.

  Martin bristled. Who was this guy to judge? They didn’t even know each other. “It never hurts to be health conscious.” Truthfully, the current of nervousness thrumming in Martin’s veins was killing his appetite.

  “Keep it up.” Kenneth grinned. “It’s obviously working well for you.”