Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare by Susan Mac Nicol Read Free Book Online Page A

it makes my young man happy, I’ll shove them in the shredder or pop them in the secure waste bag. Happy?”
    Leslie rolled his eyes. “I’m only looking out for you. I don’t want your hard work to go elsewhere.”
    Lenny walked over to him and hugged him. “I know,” he murmured against soft, black hair. “And I appreciate you for it. You are my favourite chicken.”
    He released a rosy-cheeked Leslie. Lenny wasn’t sure if Leslie’s colouring was because he’d pressed him into his bosom or whether he was blushing because of the praise. It was possibly a bit of both. He remembered something else he’d been meaning to talk to Leslie about.
    “Oh, by the way, I think it’s time to up the ante a bit on your continuing education here at Debussy’s and bring you into the fold of the actual business side of things. The boring nitty-gritty of finance and revenue. I want you in the next loan meeting.”
    Leslie’s eyes glazed over. “Finance and revenue?” he murmured uncomfortably. “Really? You’re asking a guy who barely understands an overdraft into a financial meeting?”
    Lenny nodded. “Yes. It’s about time you saw a bit of the behind-the-scenes work in action.”
    Leslie’s face fell. “Laverne,” he whined. “The last time you made me go behind the scenes I had to put chalk on a woman’s nipples. I got into conversation about a va-jay-jay.” He shivered. “It was horrible.”
    Lenny laughed loudly at the disgusted expression on Leslie’s face. “Yes, my pumpkin, I want you there. You remember those idiots I chucked out a couple of weeks ago? Well, I’ve had their manager on the line to Naomi, charming her into giving him another appointment so he can personally apologise to me for the dickhead’s behaviour. He wants to see whether he can help me with finance.”
    He walked around the desk and stood at Leslie’s side, picking stray pieces of what looked like silver thread out of his black hair. The man had probably been scrounging for bits of material in the recycle bin again. “I thought that if he’s got the balls to come and personally apologise, then the least I could do was see him. Apparently he also fired the homophobic wanker that was out of line.” He leaned over and peered at his diary. “So, a Mr Simon Hunter will be here on Thursday at two p.m. Put it in your diary—if you have one.”
    Leslie heaved a theatrical sigh. “If I must.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t expect too much of me. I know I’m not daft but finance is one thing that really gets me confused. Someone tried to sell me an issy the other day and I didn’t understand a word she was saying.”
    Lenny was puzzled. “An issy?”
    Leslie nodded. “Some tax savings account thingamabob.”
    Lenny chuckled loudly. “Oh you mean an ISA, Leslie. Honey, you make me laugh.”
    “Whatever.” Leslie pouted then gave a wicked grin. “I don’t need a savings account. I have Oliver.” He chortled in delight at Lenny’s widened eyes. “I’m joking. I’m not with him because of his huge bank account. I’m with him because of his huge prick.” He wiggled his brows. “And because I love him to bits.”
    Lenny laughed loudly. “Sweetheart, the things you say. I really feel sorry for that boyfriend of yours.”
    Leslie stuck his tongue out at him. “Don’t. He gives as good as he gets, believe me.” Realising what he’d said, both men collapsed in peals of laughter only to be interrupted in their mirth by Naomi putting her head around the door with a raised eyebrow.
    “Sorry to interrupt, but your ten o’clock meeting is here, Laverne. Richard Grace, the fabric guy? He’s in the waiting room having green tea. Shall I bring him in?”
    Lenny wiped his eyes. “Yes, Naomi, please do. Give me a minute to freshen up and I’ll be right with him. Leslie, remember Thursday, two o’clock. Please don’t forget, or have some pet fish emergency.”
    The regularity with which Leslie’s treasured fish died