Page 62 of His Holy Chaos

Alfie doesn't notice. Or rather, he notices everything and chooses to acknowledge nothing.

I watch Ford watch him approach. One predator recognizing another's territory.

"Alfie," I say, standing, and my voice does something embarrassing: it lifts, pitches up, goes bright. I hug him before he can deflect it, and he lets me, his arms coming around my shoulders. I'm one of the few people he lets hug him.

He turns to Ford, and they both look like they're in a negotiation.

Alfie extends his hand. "Ford. The man himself."

"Alfie." Ford takes it. They sit. A waiter fills his glass immediately with water.

"So. You're the one who's managed to tame our little chaos demon."

"Tame might be generous," Ford says. "Redirected, maybe. At most."

"Oh?" Alfie says. Just that.

The appetizers arrive. Tuna tartare with avocado mousse for me, burrata for Alfie, and for Ford, cured meats and pickled things.

"Remember the champagne incident?" Alfie says, and I groan, dropping my face into my hands.

"No. We are not telling that story."

"We are absolutely telling that story. Ford deserves to know what he's gotten himself into." Alfie turns to Ford. "Glynn. You know Glynn?"

"The gatekeeper," Ford says. "Short, ginger, silver chain. Runs BratWorld like a small, terrifying country."

"That's the one. So Glynn had this rule: no open containers on the main floor. Simple rule. Clear rule. Written on a sign. And Jude…"

"I was twenty-five and I was an idiot!"

"Jude decided that a magnum of Moët was not technically an 'open container' if you were drinking directly from the bottle."

Ford turns to me. The look on his face is indescribable. Part horror, part awe. I chuckle.

"In my defense," I say, "I was right. Technically."

"He was right technically," Alfie confirms. "He was wrong in every other way. Glynn banned us both for a week. Me, because I was holding the second bottle. And I was his Dom! The nerve."

"There were two bottles?"

"There were three. We don't talk about the third one."

Ford laughs. Dinner arrives.

Then Alfie tells another story. "There was one time Jude thought it was a great idea to get a couple of brats to watch porn without their Doms' permission. One of the brats was Glynn. The other was Jude himself. They were watching it in the middle of the club. Just watching, not doing anything else, but obviously to get the Doms' attention. Well, they got what they wanted."

"What did you guys do?" Ford asks, extremely amused.

"Hm. I don't think this is PG enough for this room. But there were consequences. Finishing what they started, basically. Collectively. Forcefully," Alfie says. To my surprise, Ford laughs again. Something tightens low in my stomach.

"You're the ringleader of the brats, aren't you?" Ford asks me.

"I used to be, for sure," I say, and I don't feel as sad anymore when I think about how things were before.

Alfie sounds a little sad, though. He mentions Glynn again, more carefully now. He explains, for Ford's benefit, how his dynamic with Glynn shifted. How they were Dom and sub for two years, how it was good until it wasn't.

"I had some problems with my ex-Dom…" Alfie says. He doesn't look sad, but the story is. It was terrible. "And it reflected on Glynn and me, unfortunately. I deeply regret it. I couldn't manage both. But I'm glad Glynn was able to move on." His voice doesn't change, doesn't crack, but his hand moves to his own neck. "Glynn still wears the chain. I think it means something different now. Something just for them."