Page 9 of Collin, Episodes 10-12 (The Residency Boys #4)

Mr. Moreau chuckled. “Come, Richard said you were tired.” He took Collin’s hand and pulled him deeper into the office over another dark blue rug, this one more ornate, with gold leaf patterns around the edges. “Give me your hat and coat.”

His hat was on the floor where he had dropped it during the kiss.

He went back for it, pulling off his coat as he went.

Mr. Moreau took both articles from him and put them on an old-fashioned freestanding coat rack where his own hat and coat were already on display.

He opened his arms, and Collin unbuttoned his jacket and collapsed against the older man’s chest.

This is good. He closed his eyes, listening to the thump-thump of his sir’s heartbeat through his dark-blue work shirt.

“Better?” Mr. Moreau murmured.

“So much.” Collin sighed. He pulled back. “You look done, too.”

“I wish I was, but there’s a little more to do. Tomorrow will be better, and then we are all taking the weekend off.”

“In college, they always say you can forget about weekends in corporate America.” Collin looked around the room, taking in the real art covered in glass on the walls and the finishing touches like a set of leather chairs to the side and the wood filing cabinets on the opposite wall.

Mr. Moreau tugged Collin back in against his chest. “I’m French, mon petit chaton . We riot for things like holidays and weekends”

“Is it bad that all I can think of is Bastille Day when you say that?”

“A little, but you’ll learn.” Mr. Moreau kissed the top of Collin’s head. “When we say holiday, we aren’t referring to a handful of hours. We mean weeks.”

Collin laughed ruefully. “Yeah, that blows my mind.”

Mr. Moreau sat in his chair. It felt natural to drop to the floor at his feet. But instead of going to his knees, Collin faced Mr. Moreau and sat with his legs to the side, leaning forward with his arms folded over Mr. Moreau’s thighs.

“Are you comfortable?”

Collin nodded. “For now. It feels nice.”

“I need to do a bit more work. Did you bring anything you need to do?”

“Study Mandarin. Read some PDFs.” Collin reached out and pulled his briefcase closer.

“Under my desk, there’s a pillow on a shelf behind the drawer on the right. If you want it, use it.”

Collin glanced under the desk. It was one of those corporate monstrosities with wood paneling to the floor in the front, which would hide the legs and feet of anyone sitting behind it.

The space underneath was large enough for a couple of kids to make a blanket fort.

He crawled into the space and found the pillow without a problem, feeling around in the dark until he ran into it.

It took a few tries to get situated, but in the end, he put the pillow between Mr. Moreau’s feet and sat on his rear with his back to Mr. Moreau’s chair and his knees drawn up to hold his pad.

Mr. Moreau bracketed him in from both sides with his legs, and his hand came down and rested on Collin’s head from time to time.

A soft, floaty feeling of peace sank into Collin’s limbs. His mind cleared, and he sped through his hanzi drills and vocabulary review from Zhōu Lǎoshī with what felt like no effort at all. He was deep into the stack of PDFs before he felt a slight shake on his shoulder.

“Kitten.”

“Sir?”

Collin rubbed his eyes and angled his head back to see his sir. His vision was blurred from staring too long at a screen.

Mr. Moreau smiled and stroked Collin’s cheek. “It’s time to head home. We’re late.”

“Oh. What time is it?”

Mr. Moreau shook his head ruefully. “Six. I totally lost track of the time. Richard just texted to ask where we were.”

Collin put the pillow back and crawled out from under the desk.

His foot was entirely asleep. He had to lean his hip against the side of the desk and wait for the pins and needles sensations to recede before he could walk.

Mr. Moreau just smiled and brought Collin his coat and hat and helped him dress, going so far as to button him up.

Friday was a slog. Collin started with energy in Mandarin class and chugged down what had become a daily mocha from Damian at his desk.

Veronica left for a midday meeting about her case and came back crying.

Her mother was being amazing, but the guy that had taped her had gone to a slew of media appearances.

Her community club had suddenly decided they no longer wanted her to be a part of their volunteer activities and canceled her membership.

Some crap about her being a bad influence on children.

Eliza had had some choice words about that. Katharine had held Veronica’s hand, and Collin had fetched a new box of tissues.

“We should have a daycare near some of the train stops,” Collin said, staring at the map. The words just came out.

Veronica hiccupped through her tears, also looking at the map from her chair.

Katharine leaned forward, chin on her hand. “Why, if so many people need childcare, is it so hard to find it?”

Eliza huffed from across the room. “My daughter worked in childcare for a little while. The pay was so bad she was on food stamps.”

That’s bad.

Veronica sniffled and dried her eyes. “Yeah, I was a nanny for a few months. The pay was awful. I had to get a second job just so I could break up with my then boyfriend. And even after that, I was living out of my car until I found a better job.”

“So, we should nix that idea?” Collin bit his cheek.

“No.” Eliza grimaced. “It’s a good idea. Parents can drop their kids off on the way to work. It would be perfect, but it’s not something we can really get someone to invest in. The profit margins aren’t there.”

“Give this idea to me. I’ll reach out to some of our researchers.” Veronica finished drying her face. “If I can’t work with kids at the community center, I can work on helping kids here.”

Katharine patted Veronica on the back. “You’ll get to work with kids again. Not everyone stinks like those people do.”

Katharine’s phone rang. She read the caller ID, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “I’m not answering that.”

“Who is it?” Veronica asked.

“My father. He keeps demanding an apology.”

Collin held out his hand. “Let me answer.”

Katharine raised both eyebrows but handed over the phone.

Collin hit the green button and then the icon for speaker mode. “Hello and welcome. Thank you for calling Watery Burials, your one-stop shop for all your aquaponic burial needs! If you want to feed the fish, we can grant your wish. How may I help you today?”

“What?!” a man squawked on the other end. “I’m calling for Katharine.”

“Of course, sir. Let me just check our records. We’ve had a few Katharines in this week. Has your loved one passed, or are you looking to set up a future burial plan?”

Veronica stuffed her fist between her teeth to keep from laughing. Collin grinned and tapped a few keys on the nearest keyboard for ambient noise. Eliza rolled her eyes, but her eyes were sparkling.

“Katharine Parker,” the man on the phone spat, “I’m calling to talk to Katharine Parker. Who are you?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Collin replied. “We don’t have any Katharine Parkers on file. Is she perhaps listed under a different last name?”

“No! She’s not dead. I’m calling to talk to her. She’s my daughter!”

“I’m sorry, sir. We do provide speaking services for loved ones to their departed while the bodies are in the regeneration tanks, but we don’t have anyone by Katharine Parker currently undergoing renewal at our facilities.”

Katharine’s eyes were wide as stars, and she had both hands over her mouth.

“Now see here, punk,” the man on the phone snarled, “this is my daughter’s number, and I demand to speak to her! What kind of fucked-up business is this absurdity?”

“Please watch your language, sir.” Collin smirked at his audience but kept his voice professional and slightly affronted.

“We provide sought-after services to eco-conscious individuals who wish to contribute to the future of the planet with their last worldly possession, their corporal form. All of our clients are humanely inhumed with exceptionally well-bred piranhas and?—”

“You feed people to piranhas! The hell? I’m reporting you!”

“Sir! We are a professional licensed and legitimate business.”

“You’re killing people!”

“Sir, all of our clients have already passed their mortal coil before meeting the piranhas. Now, if you would like to give me another name for your daughter…”

“My daughter is not dead.”

Collin summoned his most professional voice. “I’m very sorry for your loss, sir, but if this is the last known number for her, then she has most certainly left humanity behind.”

Eliza was shaking with laughter. Veronica had a new kind of tear running down her face and Katharine was just shaking her head back and forth.

“If you would like therapy or counseling services in this difficult time?—”

The man cut him off. “I don’t need counseling!”

“You sound very distressed, sir. If you would give me your location, I will send someone to be with you in this trying time.”

“Fuck you! You’re not locking me up in some loony bin.”

The call cut off.

“Is that”—Veronica was hiccupping with laughter—“is that a real business?”

Collin shrugged. “I don’t know. I made it up as I went. Having fish eat industrial waste is something I researched once.”

Veronica glanced at Katharine. “I think you better block his number or change your number.”

“What if he really thinks I’m dead?”

“Would it be so bad?” Veronica giggled hysterically and kicked her feet. “He’ll walk around the rest of his life telling people you were eaten by piranhas.”

Katharine tilted her head back and forth. “I suppose dying is one way to end a relationship.”

Collin finished answering half a dozen emails and compiling a new list of potential resources and then shut his computer down for the day.

He dragged himself to Ash’s dungeon. Ash and Paulsen had their heads together over something so Collin reminded Ash to drink water and eat something, then left to find his master.