8. I Hate My Watchdog

Bel really did not want to kiss Kam.

Really, he didn’t.

At first.

But he really had been curious.

And annoyed.

The restaurant has the usual crowd tonight, so both Em and Bel are kept pretty busy. Sometimes, the patrons come up and order drinks themselves, and sometimes it’s the other waiters who slap an order slip on the bar and then come back for the cocktail once it’s made. Bel knows he should be busy enough to stop thinking about anything else, just concentrate on the cocktails, but his mind keeps circling back to what he had just done.

He’d kissed Kam.

And he’d enjoyed it.

Initially, all Bel had expected was that he’d kiss the older (and taller, and probably stronger) flirty jackass in Chelsea boots just to get him to move and that would be that. What he hadn’t expected were the fireworks that went off in his head, or the way Kam tasted—like pecans and whiskey.

Which was weird, because as much as Bel actually liked pecans, he hated whiskey. Besides, he really wasn’t sure if pecans went with whiskey in the first place. Wait, yes they did.

What the hell?

Just…what the hell?

Bel’s phone buzzes as he’s in the middle of mixing a Sex on the Beach(and the name of the cocktail does not help his current state of mind). There’s only one person that text would be from. The phone continues to buzz until Bel can pull it out of his pocket—the extra forty-five seconds it takes to finish mixing and serve feels like an hour.

KAM: Here. I’m parked in my car outside.

BEL: If you stay in your car you could come across as a creeper.

KAM: You called me a creeper in the first place so I have a reputation to live up to now.

BEL: Don’t try to be funny. Why don’t you come inside? Maybe Gulf can get you a table, and you still keep an eye on me like Nina wanted.

KAM: I’m fine in the car.

BEL: UGH! Just come the hell inside!

KAM: Ask me nicely first.

BEL:[middle finger].

KAM: Come on, Bel. You know you want to ask me nice. [wink].

BEL: [middle finger].

KAM: 555

Really?

Really?

Did Kam really have to type out the laughter so Bel could see it, rather than keep it to himself? Of course not, because Kam isn’t that kind of person—not around Bel anyway.

Funny that Bel knew that after having Kam in his life for less than a day.

Funny how that phrase “Kam in his life” made Bel’s pulse speed up.

No, Bel. Not funny. Annoying. Annoying, annoying, annoying.

“Who are you texting?” Em’s voice makes Bel jump. “And why is he making you turn all red and glare like that?”

“Back off, nosy.” Bel slides the phone back into his pocket and tries to get back to work. But Em’s not just going to let it go.

“So it is a guy. Is he good looking?”

“I guess.” The words come out of Bel’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Is he single?”

Bel remembers the mischief dancing in Kam’s coffee colored eyes and snaps back with more force than he needs to.

“I don’t know.” He sighs and pulls his phone back out.

BEL: Kam, will you please come the hell inside instead of sitting in your car like a creepy-ass stalker?

Bel turns around in time to see the man he kissed and then deemed “creepy-ass stalker” is already in the dining room. Meaning the jackass had already planned to come inside. Kam’s chosen a table in the corner, and Bel wants to stick his head in the ice bucket as Kam reads the text and then smirks—smirks!—in Bel’s direction. Em has been watching.

“He’s yummy.” She says. “I mean, in that smooth bad boy biker kind of way. You know who I think he looks like?”

“Are you going to tell me even if I don’t ask? Ow, that’s my ear!” Bel rubs where Em has flicked his ear lobe.

“You didn’t duck.” Em is showing him no sympathy at all. “He looks like whatshisface from that one show. He’s even got the earring in the same ear.”

“That narrows it down. Stop flicking my ears.” Now both of Bel’s earlobes sting, and Kam is still seated behind him, and Em still won’t stop talking. This night is getting better by the second.

“Stop being annoying,” Em says it like she’s the one being bothered and not Bel. “The show that came out last year with all the hot guys and the bike racing! You really don’t know what I’m talking about? Never mind, it’s fine. What I mean is that guy is not my type but definitely yoooooours.”

“You think my type is ‘good-looking biker bad boy’?” Bel still hasn’t turned around to face the dining room. He’s pretending to count glasses, and avoiding looking at Em’s face, which lit up when Bel said “good looking”.

How the hell does she know what my “type” is?

Oh, right. She’s known him since they were four. Em doesn’t get the hint to shut up. Or maybe she does, and just doesn’t care.

“Hey, Bel. Your ears are red.”

Bel glares at her. “There’s a lot of people in here.”

“Uh-huh.” Em pours another round of cocktails, handing them off to a waiter before continuing.“I thought you weren’t dating anyone.”

“I’m not.” Bel turns his back to the dining area—and Kam. “He just—needs a place to stay for a few days. Or weeks. Or something. He’s a friend of your brother’s.”

“What kind of friend?” Em asks. Bel gives her a weird look, so she explains. “Silo has three types of friends: Actual People He Likes Spending Time With—like you—Friends With Benefits—like Gulf— and ‘Friends He’s Helping’.”

“Why is that last one in air quotes?”

“I think it’s got something to do with what he does for the government, but I’m not really sure.” Em’s eyes light up. “Oooooh, do you think you’re part of one of Silo’s assignments? Maybe that guy is someone who needs protection and you're his cover!”

“What smutty novel did you get that from?”

“It could happen.” Em is always on the defensive when Bel teases her about her reading choices. “You guys look sooooooo cute together!”

“I’m not interested in being set up with anyone, thank you.” Bel pours the contents of the cocktail shaker he’s been using into a glass and slides it over to Em to serve.

“Maybe not, but he’s definitely interested in you. He hasn’t stopped staring at you since he came in.” Em pauses over the glass, her eyes narrowed. “Ummm, Bel? What the hell is this supposed to be?”

Bel blinks, staring down at the brown sludge in the bottom of the glass. “I have no idea.”

“Ok,” Em whisks Bel’s experimental cocktail—for lack of a better term—out of sight before anyone else can see the nausea-inducing mess. “Maybe I’ll give this to the gorilla Gulf hired and see if it’ll make his robotic expression change.”

“Gulf hired a monkey?” Bel is confused. “As what, a tourist attraction?”

“No, you idiot. Gulf hired a security guard in case there’s ever any trouble here. I doubt there will be, but I don’t run this place, so I haven’t questioned it. I think he looks like a gorilla, but I don’t call him that to his face. If you’re lucky you might see him lurking around tonight.” Em grasps Bel’s shoulders and turns him so he’s facing the dining room again, rather than the back wall of the bar. “Now, I think you should go take your break now. Talk to your—friend. He looks a little lonely.”

“Em.”

“If you smack me, I’ll report you for workplace abuse.” Em grins, shoving Bel in the direction of Kam’s table.

Bel lets her shove. Em is right, he has to take his break. While he’s at it, he might as well talk to Kam about…things. Kam is still smirking as Bel approaches him.

“You were planning on coming in anyway,” Bel accuses him. “Why the hell did you make me—”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” If anything, Kam looks more amused. “Not now, and not earlier today. I’m just doing what your sister paid me to do.”

“Stalk me?”

“Babysit you.”

Bel grinds his teeth together. But he’s in a public place, so he can’t make his annoying watchdog (Bel refuses to use the term ‘bodyguard’) eat his knuckles without upsetting anyone. Kam would probably knock him flat before Bel finished throwing his first punch, anyway. And he can’t call security if the only disturbance Kam is causing is to Bel’s rapidly fraying nerves.

“Fine,” Bel plasters a smile on his face and hopes everyone else in the room doesn’t see the murder in his eyes. “Since you’re here, do you want anything? Other than to drive me up the wall?”

“Only people like Spider-Man can climb walls,” Kam leans forward, so that Bel’s face is inches from his. Bel gnaws on his bottom lip, and Kam’s eyes glitter. Bel looks away, and his eyes drop down to Kam’s lap. To those jeans that get tighter when Kam leans forward, hugging in just the right—

No! No, Bel! You are in a public place. Do not let this man provoke you into thinking about…ummm…

“Your fuel line is leaking,” Kam says.

“Huh?” Bel stares at him. Fuel line? What fuel line?

“The fuel line of your car, gutterbrain,” Kam clarifies. “It’s leaking. I noticed the spill in the driveway before I came. You should fix that.”

“I will!” Bel is annoyed that Kam caught him thinking naughty thoughts. Again. “There’s a dress code here. No jeans.”

“Then make me the exception to the rule.”

Grrrrrrrr.

“Is he bothering you, Bellamy?” It’s not Kam’s voice that asks the question. Gulf is standing at Bel’s elbow, with a blue carnation in his buttonhole tonight, his expression carefully neutral.

Bel hesitates, glancing between Gulf and Kam. Gulf’s face is neutral, and Kam is still smirking, but the eyes of each man are asking him a question. Each of them is giving him a choice, and neither will act until Bel has made a decision. While Bel is trying to make his mind up, Gulf turns to Kam.

“You're a friend of Silo’s, right?” He asks, apparently not at all offended that this person dared to walk into his high class restaurant in casual street clothes. “The son of that car magnet.”

“Car business magnet, yes,” Kam corrects him. “Are you one of Silo’s Dates?”

Bel isn’t sure why Kam capitalizes the word “date”, but if it’s to provoke Gulf, it doesn’t work. Gulf smiles.

“One of many, so I’ve been told. Do you have a reservation?” Gulf glances around the dining room as if to illustrate a point. “It’s not too busy yet, but it could be later on, so we might need this table. I’d hate to ask you to leave—”

“I’m here to see my boyfriend,” Kam says.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bel almost swallows his tongue.

Kam is smirking again, daring Bel to contradict him.

“Are you?” Gulf stares at Kam, then looks at Bel with eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know Bellamy was dating anyone.”

“I’m not—I mean, I wasn’t,” Bel scrambles to cover his potential gaff. “It’s recent.”

“Actually, we’ve been dating for a while,” If anything, Kam’s smirk gets wider, and the glitter is back in his eyes. He’s thoroughly enjoying making Bel squirm. “But Bel is a very private person, so he didn’t want to tell anyone until we made it more official. I moved in with him this morning. But even then, we don’t see each other as often as we want to, so I said I’d drop in here every night.”

One thing that would make Bel really happy right now is if it rained, and Bangkok flooded, and both he and Kam drowned within the next thirty seconds. Gulf’s eyes look like they’re about to shoot out of his head, though whether is still from the surprise announcement that Bel has a boyfriend, or Kam’s lengthy explanation, Bel isn’t sure.

“I’ll pay for whatever he buys,” the words are out of Bel’s mouth before he can stop them. “You can take it out of my paycheck.”

“No need for that. I can pay for it myself,” Kam’s eyes are daring Bel to argue, so Bel doesn’t say anything else. “All I want to do is make sure my boyfriend gets home safely.”

Bel is sure that Kam keeps saying “my boyfriend”, just to irritate him. There is movement in one corner of the room, and Gulf turns slightly. Bel follows Gulf’s gaze, where a hulk of a man dressed in a spotless black suit stands, arms crossed, body rigid, daring anyone to make trouble. The only thing he’s missing is shades. Em is right, he does kind of look like a gorilla.

“Who’s that?” Bel asks.

“Security.” Gulf responds. “I hired him the other night, and this is his first shift. High class place like this, I can’t afford any trouble. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you, or your boyfriend, as long as he has no reason to.”

“There won’t be any reason.” the Gorilla’s granite face is sending prickles dancing up and down Bel’s spine. “Kam will stay in his corner and not move and not talk to anyone.”

“Let’s not be that extreme,” Gulf laughs. “I can make this one exception, Bellamy, because I like you, and this is your boyfriend. Please don’t make me regret my decision.”

Kam watches Gulf walk away. “He is aware of what he looks like in that tux, right? And why the hell is he wearing a blue carnation?”

Bel rounds on Kam. “Boyfriend?! What the fuck—”

“Language,” Kam’s voice is calm, amused. “This place is high class after all. Bellamy.”

He says the name like it’s a statement and a question. A question Bel feels stupidly compelled to answer.

“It’s a family name,” Bel sounds defensive and he knows it. “On my dad’s side.”

“It’s old fashioned—”

“I’m aware!”

“But I like it.”

“Huh?” That brings Bel up short. Kam looks totally serious.

“I said, I like your given name.”

“Well…unless you want a mouthful of knuckles, don’t use it.” Now that’s out of the way, Bel gets back to the matter at hand. “What the fu—what is wrong with you? Why would you tell Gulf I’m your boyfriend?”

“Would you prefer I told him you had a target painted on your back?” Kam does that stupid eyebrow cock thing, and Bel’s jaw clenches.

“I…don’t know what I would have preferred but not that.”

“Stopped him from being suspicious though, didn’t it?”

It doesn’t help Bel’s mood that Kam’s right. He blows out a frustrated breath. “I’ll be back with your drink.”

Kam hasn’t actually told Bel what drink he wants, but all it’s all Bel can think of to get him away from this table. Before he can take two steps away, however, Em appears next to him, sliding a whiskey sour across the table to Kam.

“Gulf says this is on the house,” She informs them. “But only for tonight; you’ll have to pay next time. You look like a whiskey person, but I wasn’t sure what else you might like so I played it safe.”

“That’s fine,” Kam smiles at her, and that smile increases Bel’s irritation tenfold.

“Shouldn’t you be at the bar,” Bel snaps. “Especially while I’m on break?”

Em rolls her eyes at him. Her eyes flick back to the bar, and Bel glances back to see Gulf standing behind it.

“Gulf is giving me two minutes because I was curious about something.” She turns back to Kam. “So you’re not just Silo’s friend, but also Bel’s boyfriend?”

Bel throws Kam a “shut-your-damn-mouth-before-I-shut-it-for-you” look behind Em’s back, which Kam ignores.
“Did Gulf tell you that?”

“I had my suspicions, and you just confirmed them,” Em replies.

“Then why are you asking?” Bel tries to prevent himself from snapping again, but it doesn’t work. Kam smiles into his whiskey sour.

“Well, if you’re going to be here every night, then I might as well know your favorite drink,” Em says. “Unless you want Bel to get it for you.”

“That’s up to Bel,” Kam says. They both look in Bel’s direction, and Bel glares back.

I hate my watchdog.

“I like your boyfriend,” Em says. “He’s cute.”

She walks back in the direction of the bar. Bel is in danger of biting his tongue in half as he, too, turns away from Kam’s table.

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…

“Bellamy.” The name is almost a caress in Kam’s mouth, and that makes Bel freeze in spite of himself.

Bel turns back, eyes shooting daggers. “What?”

“Your ears are red.” Kam doesn’t say “again”, but it’s heavily implied.

Yes, jackass, I’m aware.

"9. Hit and Run " 

read from beginning "1. Phone Calls in the Dark"