This Charming Man

Seven

I stood on the bridge holding a basket in one hand and a shopping list in the other, looking around. I was supposed to be heading to the market with Frank that afternoon, since the weather had finally cleared up, to pick up candles for the evening lounge. I'd been waiting for at least half an hour and knowing Frank, I could only assume he had either taken a very long cigarette break, feigned illness or just decided not to turn up at all. I sighed and decided to just go by myself since I was already behind schedule and made my way into the market. I kept an eager eye out for the stall Ryan had bought the music box from but I frowned when I saw it had been replaced overnight with an exotic fabrics stall.

After picking up the candles, I thought about stopping for lunch since Mr Wentz had slipped me and Spencer a tip for closing all the doors and windows this morning. I headed down towards the food court and paused when I spotted Mr Weekes stood by a stall eating from a food carton. He looked strange in his casual wear and I remembered Mr Wentz telling me that morning that Mr Weekes had specifically asked for me to not assist him. I was fine with it and assumed Mr Weekes had a day off work and wanted to sleep in. I told Ryan on the way to the laundry room how easy it was to look after Mr Weekes since he didn't seem to want or need any assistance.

I hesitated a few moments before walking over to him and I tried to smile casually. "Hi, Mr Weekes."

He turned and smiled down at me. "Brendon!" he mumbled through a mouthful of food. He swallowed and carried on, "I didn't expect to see you here. Shouldn't you be working?"

I held up the basket. "I am. A-and I was gonna say the same thing to you," I added nervously, hoping he didn't think I was being rude.

But he laughed and shook it off. "I'm working from here today," he gestured to the bath house. "Say, have you had any lunch?"

I shook my head and lifted my chin to try and peer into the carton. "Not yet."

"Want me to buy you some?" he asked, lowering the carton for me to look into.

I paused and blinked up at him. "B-buy me some?"

He nodded once and gave me a friendly smile. "Sure! I'll buy you some of this if you want. It's really good."

I hesitated then shook my head. "I-I can't accept it from you, I'm sorry."

Mr Weekes furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to one side. "Why? I'm not gonna spit in it or something, if that's what you're thinking."

I blinked and laughed nervously, shaking my head. "O-oh no, no, of course not. I-I just don't think I have time," I stammered, checking my watch.

Mr Weekes shrugged and smiled. "That's fine. You can take it with you," he said and walked over to the counter before I could say anything else. Helplessly, I watched him buy another carton and he handed it over to me with a bright smile.

"There. No trouble," he said, passing me some cutlery. I blinked up at Mr Weekes in awe and he chuckled softly and ruffled my hair.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" he smiled down at me.

I shook myself out of my daze and quickly put the carton in my basket. "Thank you, Mr Weekes, thank you so much," I mumbled, hoping I sounded appreciative enough.

Mr Weekes waved his hand dismissively. "It's perfectly alright. We should arrange to meet up for dinner another time."

I paused and felt my cheeks flush. I caught him grinning at me out the corner of my eye and ducked my head to avoid meeting his gaze. "Y-yes. Yes we should," I mumbled, embarrassed.

"Right then. I'll see you later, Brendon," Mr Weekes said and walked off in the opposite direction. I watched him disappear into the crowd, before turning and starting to run back to the bath house. I was still blushing when I passed Mr Wentz in the reception and he called to me.

"C'mere, Urie," he said, gesturing for me.

I stumbled over and looked up at him expectantly. "Y-yes, sir?"

"I should've mentioned-" he paused when he saw my basket, "Oh. You've already been."

I glanced down at the basket and nodded. "Yeah, I just went now. Why?"

"I was supposed to tell you Iero called in sick today," he said and rolled his eyes. "Again. Thank you for doing it anyway, kid. I think Walker's on the bar at the moment. Go take them to him; he'll sort them out for you."

"Yes, sir," I said and turned towards the evening lounge.