Home and away
“I have to go back today.” Charles stated.
“Why?” Max asked, drawing little circles on Charles back, them laying in the bed in Max’s apartment, enjoying the aftermath of their latest orgasms.
“Because she’s my mum? And I live with her and my brother and they both maybe want to see me before we leave for Spain?” Charles asked, turning his head and looking at Max.
“Why don’t they come with us?”
“Because my mum needs to work? Some people do those weird regular things, you know? They will be in Austria though.” Charles said with a smile.
“I know, I’m sorry, I know your mum needs to work, I just kind of forget sometimes that you can’t push around shifts or just take a day off, I’m sorry. I didn’t grow up with parents with normal jobs.”
“It’s alright.” Charles said and they heard Penelope waking up from her afternoon nap and demanding Max’s attention. “And seems like you are needed as well, break is over.” He added, kissing Max quickly before getting up.
He entered his mum’s house half an hour later.
“Hey, I’m home!” he yelled, but nobody answered. He brought his backpack to his room and then went back downstairs, seeing something written down on the block on the kitchen counter.
'Hey Charlie, we went karting! Just in case you’re coming home XXX.'
His mum’s handwriting. He wandered into the living room, seeing the big dining table filled with stuff. There were opened boxes with different racing shoes and clothes, as well as safety gear. Another package stood next to it. Monaco Yachting Club. It held some shirts and caps, as well as some papers, during Charles short look through sounding like an offering for sponsorship. There was a whole other mountain of papers and envelopes. It looked like his mum tried to organize the papers, but probably ran out of time or lost the oversight. Charles got a glass of juice, some post its and sat down at the table, sorting through the papers. Insurance, karting club membership, permits, sponsorships, bills, and things that didn’t have anything to do with racing. He went back upstairs, taking some old papers out of a thick binder and grabbing his tablet, making his way back down. He sorted the papers into the binder, leaving the sponsorships on the table for now. He then made his way through the bills, paying one by one. They were membership and permit payments mostly, as well as bills for purchasing the clothes and other gear. The sponsorship offers were left. There were six. The Yachting Club, a Monegasque bank and realty, a big French clothing line, a French retail chain, as well as two smaller companies.
“Charlie!” Arthur yelled, running into his legs, burying his head into his stomach. Charles, by now standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner.
“Hey, little champ!” Charles said, laying down the ladle and hugging his brother back. “How was karting?” he asked, resulting in Arthur talking for fifteen minutes straight about his racing while Charles let him put the cutlery on the kitchen table.
“What’s that?” Arthur asked, sitting down at the kitchen table, nodding at the food Charles was carrying over.
“This is a real racer’s dinner. It’s bell peppers, corn, peas, carrots and broccoli with turkey strips and rice and lentils. Made as a stir fry with a little bit of egg and cream.”
“Why is it a racer’s dinner?” Arthur asked letting Charles fill some on his plate.
“Because it has loads of vitamins, a good amount of protein from the turkey, egg and cream and fibre with the rice and lentils. Lentils are very good, they make you full for a long time and are really good for you.” Charles explained, letting his mum raise her eyebrows, suspiciously looking at Arthur, who was definitely not a fan of vegetables. Arthur nodded and tried a spoon full. “What do you think?”
“It’s okay. Pizza is better.” Arthur said, letting his mum’s jaw drop.
“How about … pizza Wednesdays?” Charles offered, also looking at his mum. “And if there’s a Wednesday, where you would prefer burgers, pizza could turn into burgers.”
“Only if it comes with fries.” Arthur said, eating more of the stir fry. “This get’s better if you eat it more.”
“Alright, very good.” Charles said.
He helped Arthur shower and brought him to bed after dinner, as he asked. He came back downstairs afterwards, seeing his mum look at the sponsorship offers.
“Thank you.” She said to him “I really lost count and then there was even more and Arthur is so riled up sometimes, especially when the clothes came –“
“Mum, it’s okay. I was happy to do it. Helps me stay up to date with what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, coming home could help, also. But please don’t worry about that, enjoy your time with Max. Now, what do you think about the sponsorships?”
“Well, as we are Monegasque, I would recommend taking those two, as well as the French clothing line. If you get one in fashion, you’re getting your foot in. Even if they jump off, it’s not a niche, there will always be other clothing, jewellery or even shoe companies. The retailer would also be great. One of the smaller companies is a software company, you could take that. It’s still a start up, so they won’t give much, but you – or better said Arti – will promote them just as much as they will promote him. If they grow, they will support him more. They will remember that he was the first. The first one is always special counts in all aspects. The last one … the company looks a little suspicious … I don’t want to assume too much, but they use phrases like ‘saving the home country and values’ as well as ‘protecting the pride of the community’. I’m just not sure what to think about that, but it would be better safe than sorry, I’d suggest.”
“Okay and you think it would be okay to have that many sponsors at once?”
“Yes. They are a lot, especially with Arthur not even having raced in a competition yet, but it only shows how good Claude is. You should let him handle the contracting stuff, by the way. As the manager it should go through him. Also tell him about the one you want to decline.” Charles said.
“By the way, his first competition is on Saturday. A mini karting race in Cannes.” Pascal said, smiling widely.
“On Saturday? But that means I can’t be there!” Charles said disappointed.
“Do you want us to stall?” Pascal asked.
“Of course not!”
“I will film it. The old recorder still works. If they have wifi at the track, I will even try to do it on a stream or something with my phone, the race starts two hours after your qualifying.”
They all arrived in Barcelona on Wednesday of the race week. Partially travelling together, some travelling alone. Esteban and Logan arrived from the U.S. last, having the longest flights. They shared a suite in their hotel, Esteban’s suite staying untouched. Esteban woke up first on Friday morning, being the lighter sleeper and reacting to the alarm sooner. Logan just continued sleeping, laying on his chest next to Esteban. He tried to softly shake and wake up Logan, kissing his hair. When that didn’t work, he went lower, sliding his hand down Logan’s back and kissing his spine. Logan jumped up, slapping his hand away and tackling him down on the mattress, one hand on his neck. As soon as he realized it was Esteban, he let go, staring at him in shock before quickly hopping off the bed and running into the bath, slamming the door shut and locking it. Esteban needed a couple of seconds to gather himself before approaching the bathroom door, asking Logan if he was alright. He didn’t hear anything back. He softly knocked on the door, still talking to Logan in a soft voice. It took almost half an hour before Esteban heard a little click and he was able to open the door. Logan sat in front of the huge bathtub, a big towel draped over his shoulders, legs pulled up, his face on his knees. Esteban sat down next to him.
“Can I touch you?” he asked and Logan nodded. Esteban softly stroked his hair. “No kissing or touching your back if you lay on your front from now on?” Logan nodded, lifting his face a little and looking at Esteban, tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. You told me you don’t like to be touched from behind without warning, I just … I thought you were … awake and kind of knew where I was going. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Logan said and wiped his tears away “It’s just … I didn’t want to push away you, I just didn’t expect that. I can barely stand someone walking up to me from behind and slapping my shoulder or something. It’s … all these little things, that so many people can do and I just struggle with them all the time. It just makes me feel … less, kind of.”
“You are not less, Logie, not ever. Things happened that made some things a little different for you. That is not your fault. You are … doing so many things. You are successful, you are a racing driver, you have friends, a boyfriend who loves you. You deserve all of it and then some. There is nothing less.”
“Thank you.” Logan said, taking a deep breath “You love me?” he then asked after a couple seconds.
“Uuuhm, yes, I do.” Esteban said and Logan crunched up the towel in his hands “Don’t say it back until you can really say it and mean it.” Esteban said with a smile. “I’ll leave you to shower, I’ll use the other bath. See you in a bit for breakfast?”
“Yeah” Logan said, getting up together with Esteban, who walked over to the door. “Estie?” he asked and Esteban stopped and turned around “I … really, really, really like you.” He said and Esteban smiled at him while closing the door.
They met at the little pantry a little later, Logan being first and already having the oatmeal done, just cutting up fruit while boiling some eggs. He saw Esteban walking up and put down the knife, embracing Esteban and giving him a long kiss.
“It’s okay.” Esteban calmed him again.