His For A Price |z.h|

1

However, he was generous if erratic provider, and, to Niall, he had seemed an almost god-like being, suntanned and handsome, whenever he returned to Ireland. A dispenser of laughter and largesse, he thought, his cases stuffed with scent, dress and other exotic gifts as well as the elegant clothes he had made for him in Far East. 

"If he ever gets stopped at Customs, he'll end up in jail," his older brother Matthew had muttered. 

Yet, somehow, it had never happened. And perhaps Uncle Matthew had been right when he also said Bobby had the devil's own luck. But lately that luck had not been much in evidence. He'd sustained some heavy losses, and his recoveries had not been as positive as they needed to be. 

He was invariably cagey about the exact state of their finances and Niall's attempts to discover how they stood had never been successful. 

"Everything's fine, my pet," was his usual airy reply. "Stop worrying your pretty head and smile." 

A response that had Niall grinding his teeth. As so much did these days. 

At the beginning, of course, it had all seemed like a great adventure. The last thing he'd expected was to be taken out of school and whisked off abroad to share his father's peripatetic lifestyle, travelling from one gambling center to another as the mood took him. 

Uncle Matthew and Aunt Jennifer had protested vociferously, saying that he could make a home with them while he finished his education, but Bobby had been adamant. 

"He's all I have left," he'd repeated over and over again. "All that remains of his mother. Can't you understand that I need Niall with me?" he'd added. "Besides, a change of scene will do good for him. Get him way from all these painful memories of my lovely Maura." 

With hindsight, Niall wondered rather sadly if he'd have been so set on his company if he'd still been the quiet, shy child with braces on his teeth. Instead, he'd soared into slender, long-legged adulthood, his blonde hair falling in a silken swathe across his forehead, and blue eyes that seemed to ask what the world had to offer. 

Which, at first, seemed to be a great deal. The travelling, the hotel suites, the super-charged atmosphere of the casinos had been immensely exciting for an almost eighteen year old. 

Even the shock when he learned that Bobby wasn't prepared to acknowledge their real relationship hadn't detracted too much from the appeal of their nomadic existence. Or not immediately. 

He'd realized quite soon that women of all ages found his father attractive, and tried, without much success, not to let it bother him. But while Bobby was charming, flattering and grateful, he was determined to make it clear that it would go no further than that. 

"I need you to be my shield- keeping my admirers at a distance," he'd told Niall seriously. His tone had become wheedling. "Treat it as part of the game, darling. Mummy always told me how good you were in your school plays. Now's your chance to show me how well you can really act." 

But why were you never there to see for yourself? Niall wanted to ask, but didn't, because his father was continuing. 

"All you have to do, my pet, is stick close to me, smile and say as little as possible." 

On the whole, Niall thought he'd managed pretty well, even when the leering looks and muttered remarks from many of the men he encountered made him want to run away and hide. 

The mother of Jackie, his best friend in high school, had become involved in the LGBT community's movements, and held consciousness raising sessions at her house. The iniquity of gays, bisexuals, lesbians and transgenders being bullied and disrespected, had been among the favorite themes of those meetings, and while Niall and Jackie had giggled about it afterwards, he now thought ruefully that Mrs. Henderson might have had a point.