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    The Grump
    The Grump
    The Grump
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    The Grump

    By Wayne Mansfield

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Brad can’t believe his luck when he finds the perfect place to live at the perfect price. It’s a pity his new landlord Douglas is such a miserable grump. It isn’t long before he wonders if it’s a good idea to be living in such close proximity to such a moody ogre.

    Fortunately, his life at work is looking up with the arrival of a new employee named Enzo. Brad falls immediately in lust with the hot Italian. They start dating, though it soon becomes apparent there are going to be problems. Enzo starts exhibiting some unlikeable traits and, while Brad finds himself slowly falling in love with the man, he also realizes Enzo has problems not just with commitment, but also with his sexuality.

    Brad has a dilemma. Does he persist with Enzo, tolerate his bad behavior, and pray for a miraculous, happy ending? Or will the love he seeks come from an entirely different direction?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJMS Books LLC
    Release dateAug 12, 2017
    ISBN9781634864138
    The Grump
    Author

    Wayne Mansfield

    Wayne Mansfield is a Western Australian writer. He has been writing for nine years and has been published in Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Additionally, he wrote a monthly erotic story for the German publications Macho and Dreamboys for two years. His novellas and stories usually have a horror, futuristic, or fantasy theme, although he does write contemporary stories such as The Hiding Place, which received Honorable Mention in the 2013 Rainbow Awards.

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      Book preview

      The Grump - Wayne Mansfield

      10

      Chapter 1

      Brad alighted from the bus onto Cadney Street and waited for the vehicle to pull onto the road. Opposite him, there was a large park with an ornamental lake at its centre. Trees lined the street on both sides, and the concrete footpath was strewn with leaves of every shade of brown. Behind him stood a row of hundred-year-old terrace houses, uniform but for the small embellishments added by the residents.

      Yes, he thought. I could easily live here.

      He glanced at the newspaper advertisement in his hand, then at the number on the brick pillar behind him—24. He needed 38.

      Please, he whispered as he set off, the word a prayer for the room to be clean and comfortable, and above all, available.

      It would be the sixth property he’d looked at that weekend, and when his only transport was public, it meant long waits and long walks. After working all week, it was tiring, and not at all what he wanted to be doing.

      He arrived at number 38 and couldn’t deny he was a little disappointed. It was by far the shabbiest townhouse on the street. The windows were dirty, and the garden was nothing but weeds and dry grass. The grey paint on the front door was peeling and he could see from the footpath that the doorbell was hanging loose by its wires. Still, he was there now. He might as well go in. He took a deep breath and pushed through the wrought-iron gate to the steps, also in need of paint. At the top, he used the ornate brass knocker to announce his arrival. When he heard nothing on the other side, he checked his watch and the advertisement, and knocked again.

      He heard an inside door opening, and a voice, a deep growl. All right! All right!

      The front door swung open. A man wearing a deep frown, a white tank top, and a pair of navy shorts stood menacingly before him. Despite the man’s grim expression, he was reasonably good-looking, and his body, toned and muscular. He had dark brown hair with a touch of silver at the temples, giving him the appearance of someone in their mid- to late-forties.

      Are you Mr. Owens?

      The man nodded. You here to look at the room?

      Yes, Brad replied.

      Come in then, said Mr. Owens. Follow me.

      Brad entered, passing an open door on his left, through which he could see a home gym and a television. The furniture looked old and worn, though the room, or as much as he could see of it, appeared clean and well-kept.

      How much is the rent again, Mr. Owens?

      They’d begun to ascend the stairs. Isn’t it in the ad? And call me Douglas.

      Yes, it is. Brad’s throat constricted. He swallowed hard. I wondered if there’s any chance of negotiating, that’s all.

      Douglas Owens stopped dead in the middle of the stairs. You’ve got to be bloody kidding! He looked over his shoulder at Brad with a face like thunder. I thought the ad was pretty clear. If you don’t like it, then I reckon it’s time you pissed off.

      Brad’s eyes grew wide. Had he just been told to piss off?

      I can afford the rent, Mr…Douglas. He found it difficult to maintain a friendly tone. I thought there might be a chance we could discuss a small reduction.

      Douglas turned around, glaring down at Brad. Well, there isn’t. You interested or not?

      Brad honestly didn’t know anymore. Had it not been for the convenient and beautiful location of the property, he would have said no. And the rent, even without a reduction, was entirely reasonable. But could he live in such close proximity to such a bad-tempered man?

      For a hundred bucks a week, he could certainly try.

      Yes, he replied. I’m interested.

      Douglas looked at him a moment longer, then continued to the top of the stairs. It’s self-contained. He pushed open a door to the left of the stairs. Your bathroom and toilet.

      Brad peered into the room, pleased to see it bright and clean. There was a porcelain bath with a showerhead, and at the foot of the bath, a toilet. The shower curtain looked new and the mirrors on the cabinet above the wash basin were clean and clear.

      Next to the bathroom, further back towards the front of the house, was a second door.

      This is the room.

      Brad followed Douglas into a large space with freshly waxed floorboards and pale blue walls. Behind the door, to the right, was a kitchenette, with a stove and a sink, and an alcove with a power socket for a refrigerator. The rest of the space was open to be used however he wished.

      He could put his double bed in one corner, the television in the other and his two-seater couch in front of it. And behind the couch he could put his dining table and four chairs. He’d need to buy a small wardrobe, and that could go at the foot of the bed. It would still leave more than enough room to get about easily. A couple of pot plants and a picture or two on the walls, and he’d have quite a cosy space.

      It’s nice, he said without elaborating.

      Douglas gave a single nod. A month’s rent upfront. And I reckon you should get yourself a couple of rugs to put on the floor. I don’t like hearing a lot of clomping about. Especially at night when I’m trying to sleep.

      "No problem. When could

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