Page 76 of Flare

Rhys shrugged. He’d hardly looked my way since we’d arrived back at Flare. “It wouldn’t have to be her, right? She has lots of contacts, lots of people who work for her. And let’s face it, she wouldn’t even need to see the original. We got those samples done for orders and promotion, right?”

“Fuck.” Kip’s eyes screwed shut as realisation sank in. “It would only take a photo from someone at the bloody manufacturers. Goddammit, I wish we could do that stuff in-house.”

“One day when we’re rich.”

His gaze narrowed. “Still, I’m gonna light a fire under their arses to look at their processes, you can count on that. Gloria knew exactly what this would do to you, Rhys. This isn’t like the other knock-offs.” He glanced toward the kitchen where Jack had disappeared just minutes before. “If Jack hadn’t caught this before the show...”

Rhys fisted his hands and I reached for one, but he jerked away. “You don’t have to tell me. I’d never get another invite. It could’ve ruined us. New designers don’t get the same forgiveness that bigger labels do. We’re expected to be fresh and edgy. Showcasing a design central to my collection that’s almost a replica of another already on sale would be unforgiveable. What the fuck am I going to do, Kip?”

Kip huffed. “Well, at least we can avoid the absolute worst-case scenario by not showing the original jacket. And Gloria knows there’s virtually nothing you can do.You’re going to have to come up with something else, Rhys. There’s no other choice if you want to do the show. And we can’t affordnotto.”

“I know, I know.” Rhys blew a huge sigh. Then he turned and slipped a hand into mine and stood in front of me. “I’m so sorry for being such a prick. You didn’t deserve it. I just—shit. What am I going to do, Beck?”

“Come here.” I pulled his head against me and he wrapped his arms around my waist. “If there’s nothing we can do to change things, then let’s get a plan in place to try and solve the problem as best we can. You’re going to do that show, Rhys. And you’re going to blow them away. And anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s all very nice—” Kip’s brow furrowed in thought. “—but I’m not willing to let things go quite so easily. Rhys, you get some designs going, but I’m gonna fuck that bitch up the best way I know how.”

Rhys pulled away and fervently shook his head. “You can’t do anything that might reflect back on the store, Kip. I can’t afford that as well. You can’t openly accuse her ofanything.”

“As if.” Kip sniffed. “I’ve got way more game than that. No. I’ll simply do what I do best.” He flexed his fingers and pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna network.”

“Dear god. I’m gonna need coffee.” Rhys grabbed my hand and tugged me toward his flat. “You’ve got a couple of hours before you have to leave for the prison, right?”

I nodded. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I’ve got some serious apologising to do.” Halfway up the stairs he called down to Kip. “Run interference with Jack for us, will you?”

Kip groaned, and I couldn’t get up those stairs fast enough.

* * *

Rhys

“Uncle Beck, Rhys!” Jack’s urgent voice carried upstairs to where I sat on Beck’s knee at the window, coffees in hand. We’d been talking while staring through the storm to the raging harbour beyond, Beck having proved to be particularly snuggly after I’d cuffed him to the towel rail and jerked us both off.

At Jack’s cries, we hit the stairs at a run, almost barrelling into Kip at the bottom.

“He’s out back. I’ll hold the fort.” He nodded to the small group of customers surveying a recent shipment from a few of my favourite designers. “Ten bucks says I’ve made at least one sale before you return.”

“You’re on.” We headed to the kitchen to find Jack bouncing impatiently on his feet and Drew sitting in a chair at the tiny table. “What’s wro—? Shit.”

Drew’s bruised face stopped both of us in our tracks.

“Jesus, what happened?” I pulled a chair in front of Drew and sat.

He stared down at his hands, tear tracks streaking his pale soft cheeks and highlighting a few more bruises I’d missed the first time around. I tipped his chin up and swore again, his eyeliner smudged where something had dragged it into his hairline, his eye red-rimmed and bloodshot.

“I shouldn’t be here.” He hiccupped between sobs as Beck moved to stand behind me.

“Let me see.” I turned his face from side to side, noting the congealed blood in the corner of his nose. I grabbed a Kleenex and cleaned it off and then pressed a whole wad of them into his hands.

Dammit to hell.

It wasn’t like I even had to ask, but still. “Tell me what happened. You can’t keep hiding this, Drew.”

He flashed me an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look, because we both knew what had happened. But Drew needed to start saying it. This couldn’t go on.

“Was it that group of bullies again?”

---