Chapter Ten

Joe got out of the car once it was in the secure area behind Buckingham Palace. He wondered how well Alejandro’s visit had gone.

Does he know I’m still his CPO?

Does he care?

“Sergeant Bond!” Alejandro’s voice sang out across the courtyard. A moment later he emerged from a door, followed by one more man in a generic suit, who exchanged a nod with Joe. Peanut had been officially handed over from the palace to Sergeant Wenlock, and so had the neat white paper carrier bag that Peanut was carrying. “I’ve got a treat for us to share!”

A thoroughly saucy thought presented itself to Joe at that moment, but he forced it away.

Joe opened the car door for Alejandro. “Thank you, Mr Fuente. I hope you had an enjoyable visit.” Joe was smiling, he could feel it, and he made no attempt to hide it.

“Splendid!” Alejandro slipped into the back seat as Joe held the door for him. He looked like a child on Christmas morning, Joe decided. He closed the car door and took his own seat beside the driver just in time for Alejandro to reach over his shoulder and drop his mobile into Joe’s lap. “It’s a Gaga kind of day. Can you make it come out of the speakers, Sergeant?”

Joe glanced at the driver, who shrugged in response. A secret Gaga fan, perhaps.

“If you like, Mr Fuente.”

“I like!” He tapped Joe’s shoulder over the seat. “Come on, Sarge, I need my Gaga before I tell you what I’ve got for us.”

Joe set up the phone and before the car had left Buckingham Palace’s gates, Lady Gaga was singing. Joe passed the phone back to Alejandro. “Have you smuggled out a corgi?”

“Better!” He rustled the paper bag. “Abuelita gave me a piece of Stilton so big that I could hollow it out and live in it! Don’t tell Zak or no Stilton for you!”

“I won’t say a word, Mr Fuente,” Joe said. “Straight home, sir?”

“Can we swing by the studio?” The distinct odour of very strong Stilton filled the car and, at Joe’s side, the driver gave a valiant effort to hold back a cough, his eyes filling with tears. “Who wants some Stilton?”

“Maybe later, when I’ve got my hazmat suit on.” Although Joe’s near-empty stomach betrayed him by rumbling. He tried not to laugh as he entered the studio’s address into the satnav on the dashboard.

“More for me.” And for the remainder of their journey, Alejandro alternated between eating his prized Stilton and singing loudly along to his playlist. And all the time, he was keeping the beat on Joe’s shoulder.

He really doesn’t need coke.

Joe didn’t swat Alejandro’s hand away, but he couldn’t reach back and hold it either. Not in front of a driver. After that hostile lunch with Wendy, Alejandro’s unbridled glee was a tonic.

Once the car arrived at the studio, Joe scanned the area for anyone who might pose a threat. The pavement was busy, but the parking area outside was quiet, and Joe got out. Alejandro knew the drill.

Stay in the car until we know it’s safe.

He headed to the door, then froze, all his senses on alert.

The lock was smashed, parts of the door splintered. He glanced back at the car, then took out his phone and called Control.

“I’m at Peanut’s studio. The lock’s damaged. I’m going in. The alarm isn’t sounding.” Joe took the can of PAVA from the holster inside his jacket and, covering his hand with his handkerchief to avoid smudging any prints, slowly pushed the door open.

He slipped inside without making a sound and snapped on the light. Keeping his back against the wall, he scanned the studio. The chaos of masks, models, swags of fabric and pictures made it very hard to know if whoever had broken the lock was still inside.

But something was wrong.

A breeze came in through the partly opened door and something swung back and forth.

Joe looked up and there, dangling from a metal beam that ran across the width of the room, was a rope. And from it, there swung a wighead as though it had been hanged.

 

* * * *

 

The noise from upstairs as Joe spoke to Patrick on the telephone seemed rather too much to be made by one slender drag queen. Lady Gaga’s music thumped out, a vacuum roared and Alejandro stomped back and forth, furiously cleaning the bedroom that Joe had tidied. He had said nothing on their journey home, simply disappearing upstairs once the Stilton had been safely stowed in the kitchen.

“Peanut’s not very happy,” Joe told him.

“I don’t think this is our Leviticus,” was Patrick’s conclusion. “Smashing down doors? More likely someone who just wanted to get in on the drama. The CCTV on the door going down was unforgivable though, I can’t apologise enough for that.”

“So there’s nothing? Someone made a threat like that, and there’s nothing?” Joe paced back and forth through the living room. “So if it’s not Leviticus, do we think that whoever would do this would launch a firework at Peanut too?”

“I’m not brushing this under the carpet,” the commander assured him. “There’s the option of a safe house, of course, but we simply can’t make him disappear. I’ve got officers front and back, panic alarms throughout, but have you stopped to think, if our Leviticus can get so close, why they haven’t just made their move? There’s some thinking here that this person is getting all they need from the thrill of terrorising him.”

“I hope that’s the case, but that firework could’ve killed Peanut. Could’ve killed me too.” Joe swept his hand back through his hair and hissed out his breath. “Maybe they didn’t realise how dangerous it was. Thought it’d scare Peanut, didn’t realise it could’ve been so much worse.”

“That’s beginning to be our prevailing feeling. It’s what the psychologists are telling me.” He heard the sound of Patrick’s cup landing on its saucer. “But our security will remain on high alert until we’re sure we’ve got him in custody, you can count on that.”

“Okay, Patrick. Thanks. I better go up and check on Peanut.” Joe made his way upstairs, the music and the Hoover louder with every step. He tapped on the door to his bedroom. “Hey, Alejandro. You okay?”

Alejandro pulled the door open, looking rather as if he’d just finished an intense workout. Changed into the skinniest jeans Joe had ever seen and a neon pink T-shirt though, he made even housework look flamboyant. He took a moment to catch his breath then said, “Come and see, Osito, your newly refurbished quarters!”

Joe left his shoes on the landing and came inside. The gay icons and the rainbow flag had gone, replaced with framed prints, and the only posters now were the sort of tasteful ones sold in art galleries of paintings that weren’t too confrontational.

“As much as I’ll miss the sultry men with bulging trousers, this is really nice.” Joe patted Alejandro’s arm. “Thanks for doing this for me.”

“I still have the bulging gents if you want them back.” Alejandro took his phone from his pocket and with a swipe of his finger, the music grew quieter. “Were you very angry with me for invoking the power of the mamá?”

“I’m glad you did,” Joe said gently. “I didn’t want to leave, you know that. I only tried to because I felt I should, but Commander Holloway didn’t want me to and neither did your mother. So here I am.”

“And what happened? I know there can’t be an us,” Alejandro told him softly. “But that doesn’t mean I have to pretend I don’t like you. But you’re married and I don’t want to get into all that again and you definitely don’t, I guess. So what did your commander say about my studio?”

Joe didn’t want to tell him that Patrick didn’t think Leviticus was behind it. Two people messing up Alejandro’s day seemed rather harsh. “They’re looking into it.”

He nodded, then patted Joe’s arm. “Shall I make us something nice to eat? I was going to paint you today, wasn’t I?”

“You still can. Not at the studio, obviously, but…” Joe’s voice trailed off. He didn’t need to remind Alejandro. “Might help you unwind? Don’t let them win, Alejo. I mean, Alejandro.”

“Let’s have some royal Stilton and lovely bread.” He took Joe’s arm, just as Paloma had. “Then can I paint you? We can use my drag room. Paloma’s room!”

“I’d love you to paint me.”

“I can’t concentrate if your tum keeps grumbling.” He led them along the landing. “Stilton, then paint. And I refuse to think about that wighead. I’m having an officially good day. No Fuckface is going to ruin it.”

Royal Stilton had the edge on supermarket Stilton, that was for sure, Joe decided. Although he was so hungry after his failed lunch that he would’ve happily eaten an old shoe stuck between two pieces of bread. Almost.

Once they were finished, Joe was introduced properly to Paloma’s room. Now he knew its purpose it took on a different perspective, becoming the dressing room of the glamorous creature Alejandro conjured from make-up and clothing, the exotic femme fatale who resided inside him. He could picture her here before the mirror with its border of bright Hollywood bulbs, applying her lipstick as she prepared for a night on the town. The night they’d met, for instance.

Joe picked up a large hair bow from the dressing table and stroked its soft satin finish. “So, where do you want me?”

“Stripped to the waist and in Señorita Picante’s chair, please!”

Stripped?

Joe froze, halfway out of his jacket. But it had to be done. He shrugged it off and hung it on the back of the door beside sequinned garments and marabou feathers, then threw his tie after it. He untwisted his cufflinks and put them in his pocket, then turned his back on Alejandro as he unbuttoned his shirt. Then he unfastened the Velcro on his covert vest and took that off too. Once he’d cast it aside, he sat down in the makeup chair and stared at his bare chest in the bright lights cast by the bulbs around the mirror.

‘I don’t need a meathead.’

Joe chased the memory of Wendy’s words away.

“I’m ready for my close-up, Mr Fuente!”

Busy at the table stacking paints and brushes, Alejandro turned to look at him. He didn’t even try to hide his appreciative gaze but instead said, “You really, really are, Osito!”

Joe scratched at the sandy-coloured hair on his chest which occupied the space between his nipples. It was inconspicuous and very far from luxuriant but at that moment, Joe was so conscious of it that he wondered if he should’ve tended to it with a blow-dryer and styling spray before revealing it to Alejandro.

“Should I— Is the chest hair all right?”

“I can’t paint over it, no.” But Alejandro didn’t sound disappointed, Joe noted, though he seemed to keep looking at it. “I didn’t— I should’ve thought, of course you’d have— Well, why wouldn’t you? You’re you.”

“I could shave it off if you wanted me to? I don’t mind.”

“Oh no, definitely don’t do that!” He gave a flustered laugh, patting one hand to his own chest. “It suits you far more than it does Paloma!”

“Do you shave then? Not just your face?” Joe relaxed and rested his arms on the chair’s rests. “I mean, you don’t have to answer that if it sounds a bit prurient, I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“I used to wax but shaving is so much simpler.” He turned back to his paints, then back to Joe. “And I moisturise. Head. To. Toe. It’s a bit slippery but my skin thanks me for it.”

Joe blinked as he tried his best not to think too much about a slippery, naked Alejandro. “Maybe I should do that too. I’d be nice and smooth.”

“Don’t you dare shave!” He wagged his finger at Joe. “And if you start tucking, we shall have strong words!”

“Someone mentioned that at lunch today. Put me right off the sausage!” Joe grinned. “I hope it doesn’t hurt, though. You know what I’m like, diving in to protect you. I doubt you’d want me bursting into a dressing room to say, No tucking, Mr Fuente!”

“The first time, it was murder, then I decided that I wanted the world’s tightest tuck. Then I got a blister. Now, I think, I’ve got it just right.” He took his phone from his pocket and for a moment Joe wondered exactly what he was about to see. “Do you want to see baby Paloma?”

Not a blister.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to see Paloma’s tucked chorizo. “Yeah, why not?”

“I started drawing Paloma when I was about twelve, doodling her in my sketchpads. Then one day, a couple of years later, I just drew her onto me instead.” He looked down at the screen and smiled. “I didn’t try padding until I was a few years older, so when I show you this, be kind. Paloma was more Jessica Rabbit than Rita Hayworth once upon a time.”

He turned the phone so Joe could see it. Young Alejandro with his dark eyes was so maddeningly pretty that Joe almost forgot that he was supposed to be looking at the drag. And the drag was…pneumatic? The enormous fake bosoms did their best to disguise the fact that Alejandro’s waist wasn’t particularly prominent. The make-up wasn’t as elegant as Paloma’s now was, but it was certainly bright, and Alejandro was apparently perfecting his bee-stung pout with great enthusiasm.

“Are those balloons down the front of your dress? That frock is pretty wild, though!”

“I made that.” He beamed. “But those boobs, what was I thinking? And look at that cheap wig, ugh!”

“You had a fire hazard on your head!” Joe laughed. Then he looked up at Alejandro. “You still looked very pretty though.”

“I looked horrible, stop it!” He took back the phone. “I just can’t let you shave that chest, Osito, so I’m going to paint you from here up.” He tapped his own breastbone. “I’m going to turn you into a comic book secret agent. Like a Man from U.N.C.L.E. How’s that?”

“Brilliant!” Joe settled more comfortably in the chair. “You know, Alejandro, despite all the…you know, stuff going on, I’m having fun. I’m glad you got your mum to melt the commander’s earwax. I really didn’t want to go. It’s great to be back.”

“It’s great to have you. Not that I’ve had you. Or you me, or—” Alejandro fanned his hand in front of his face and laughed. “Stop flustering me!”

Joe laughed too. He’d never had this effect on someone before. “I’ve got some news, by the way. I don’t know if you’ll be interested to know, but…”

“But?” Alejandro tapped his finger against his chin. “Would it be asking too much to squeeze your arm now there’s no shirt in the way? A platonic squeeze, as an artist?”

“Go on, then.” Joe raised his arm in the muscle-man pose and flexed his biceps. “Squeeze all you like.”

“As an artist.” He closed his fingers over Joe’s biceps and squeezed. “Tell me your news while I just cling on here and appreciate your general firmness. Don’t mind me!”

“Wendy summoned me to what I assumed was a lunch date, but was actually…” Joe lost his thread for a moment as Alejandro squeezed his arm. God, that feels good. “Well, her colleague Barnaby was there. And she told me, well, she’s moving to Japan.”

“Is that why your tummy was rumbling?” Alejandro allowed himself the hint of a caress, then smoothed his palm over the tensed muscle again. “No food, just drama? Why is she going to Japan if— You’re not going to Japan, are you? But I’m not in Japan!”

“I’d heard about some merger they’d been working on. Something like that.” Joe subdued a sigh as Alejandro went on touching him. “And when I turned up, Wendy said they were opening an office in Japan, and I ordered teriyaki to celebrate. Then the next thing you know, she’s sulking because she’s decided to move to Japan, demands I go too, and it’s the first I’d ever heard about it and she can’t see why I’d be upset. Oddly enough, I went off my lunch.”

“What did you tell her? I wouldn’t go to Japan if I was leaving this arm in England.” He nodded once, as though Joe’s arm had met his high standards. “Can I try the other? See if it’s as good?”

“Go on, then.” Joe flexed his other arm. “I told her I didn’t want to go. And she pretty much admitted to me that there’s someone else. And she said, in Japan, there wouldn’t be. What sort of… That’s supposed to make me want to give everything up, is it?”

“Do you want to be married to her?” Alejandro slid his hand over Joe’s chest, offering a mischievous smile as he took hold of his other arm. “You’ve never seemed… It’s not my business, is it? You don’t have to tell me.”

Joe’s gaze fell to his reflection. He was topless, staring at himself, and he realised that he didn’t have to hide who he was from Alejandro. But once it was said, he couldn’t unsay it. He couldn’t laugh awkwardly and say ‘Only joking!’ If he spoke quickly, it’d be like ripping off a plaster. Then it would be done.

“I’m gay.”

Joe closed his eyes, waiting for the ceiling to fall in.

“So am I. Isn’t it fun?” Alejandro released Joe’s arm and ruffled his hair playfully. “And soon you’ll be a Man from U.N.C.L.E.!”

“So now you know.” Laughing, Joe grasped Alejandro’s hand. “I really wanted to tell you! When you were cross with me and I didn’t know why, and I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. Do you know, I nearly asked you if you knew Paloma, because I wanted to see her again. Find out who the man was underneath the costume.”

“I was cross because I thought you were one of those married men I told you about. The men who won’t have a boy unless she’s dressed as a girl.” His smile was soft though, no trace of anger there now. How much more beautiful he was without the scowl. “Paloma’s nicer than Alejo, isn’t she?”

“She’s an elegant woman, and Alejo is a spirited young man.” Joe brushed the back of his hand against Alejandro’s cheek. “They’re still both you, though, aren’t they?”

“They’re both very much me.” He leaned close and put his lips to Joe’s ear. “But the boobs aren’t real, in case you wondered.”

Sergeant Wenlock, do you want to be sacked?

Joe shone Alejandro his chummiest grin, trying to ignore how close Alejandro was to him. “Well, yes, the boobs. I thought they probably weren’t.”

“The muscles are though, aren’t they? They’re very, very real.” He widened his already large eyes. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

“They are real, yes!” Joe grinned. “You might’ve thought under my shirt they were just inflated with a tiny pump that I hide in my pocket, but you can see now, can’t you? They’re very real.”

Alejandro grinned and assured him, “And definitely a nine. I can’t give a ten just yet, not on the strength of squeezing alone.”

“You’d need a hug, would you, just to be sure?” Joe said. “I can give you a hug, if you’d like one. A platonic hug, so I don’t get sacked, of course.”

“A hug would help, but I can’t award a ten for your muscles until I’ve spent all night kissing them.” Bloody hell. “But that might get you fired too, I guess? Fired but excited?”

“Very fired and very excited,” Joe assured him. Joe caught his reflection and saw his blushing red face staring back at him. “Look, when this is over, when you don’t need a CPO anymore, maybe, depending on who I’m assigned to. If I’m assigned to your mum again, it might not be allowed, but…depending… I’d have to disclose it to Commander Holloway, but…if I’m allowed, we could give it a go.”

“Would you really want to?” Alejandro looked as though he couldn’t believe it, as though it was utterly unthinkable. “With me?”

“Yes! You’re fun, and you’re stunning, and…yes,” Joe told him. “Otherwise, I’d have to ask you to take me out to some nightclub somewhere and help me find a boyfriend, and that would be rather awkward, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know what to say, Osito. Yes, let’s give it a go!” Alejandro laughed. “Zak might not like it but can we not think about Zak? I went up and down that street the next day, you know, asking everyone if they knew the guy in tweed!”

“I s’pose we would’ve found each other again somehow.” Joe stroked the back of Alejandro’s hand. “But yeah, let’s not think about Zak. Sorry, I’d completely… I’ve just asked you out, and you’ve already got… Yeah, let’s not think about him.”

“Let’s not,” he agreed, curling his fingers around Joe’s. “Once I’ve had my hug, what then? Do we go back to being Sergeant Wenlock and Mr Fuente? Can I at least be Alejo?”

“I’d feel honoured to call you Alejo,” Joe said. “Would you like that hug now?”

Just as Paloma had on the previous evening, Alejandro settled himself on Joe’s lap, one arm around his neck. Then he said, “Yes please, Osito.”

So Joe hugged him tight. Alejandro was so warm and alive in his arms and Joe brushed his lips against Alejandro’s neck as he held him. “You’re extremely nice to hug, Alejo.”

His reply was a soft sigh of contentment and Alejandro snuggled as close as he could possibly get, his cheek pressed to Joe’s. Eventually he whispered, “This is the best hug I’ve ever had.”

“And it’s platonic, of course,” Joe said, more to remind himself that nothing more than this was allowed. And perhaps not even this, but he wasn’t about to tell Patrick about it.

“Of course.” Alejandro lifted his head just a little and let their foreheads touch. His eyes sparkled and he whispered, “Did you really think I was dumb enough to take my tracker out by accident last night?”

“I did wonder.” Joe did his best to ignore the tingle in his lips as he recalled their kiss in the street. “Why go to all that effort escaping out of a window, then take your GPS with you?”

“Because I’m naughty like that. I like to have a gorgeous man chasing me.” He grinned. “And I wanted to see your face when you saw Paloma again, looking her very best.”

Joe chuckled. “And what did my face look like? This, perhaps?” He dropped open his mouth and widened his eyes in surprise. “Am I close?”

“You were gaping like my neon zombie, but a lot better-looking.” Alejandro ruffled Joe’s hair again. “Ready to be painted, platonic friend?”

“Oh, yes. I can’t wait to be your canvas.” Joe was reluctant to lose Alejandro from his lap, but he knew very well that if Alejandro sat there a moment more, they wouldn’t be platonic friends any longer. And Alejandro must know it too, as he left his perch and turned back to his paints, humming a soft tune.

A few minutes passed before he announced, “Let’s see what we can do,” and turned to Joe once more. In his hand he held a thin paintbrush and he explained, “If this was a pro job you’d be shaved, exfoliated and all of that fun stuff but since it’s not, I’m letting you off easily. So I’m going to sketch my comic book hero onto you then fill in the detail. I’m not airbrushing tonight, I don’t want all that noise, but you can talk and move about a little if you get cramps. When I tell you to sit still though, you sit still. Okay?”

Shaved and exfoliated? Joe grimaced.

“Don’t worry, I’ll behave.” He raised an eyebrow, a touch too saucily perhaps, but he added a grin. Alejandro admonished him with a wag of his finger then leaned in very close, deftly stroking the brush over Joe’s face, applying his guidelines.

Joe tried to banish his grin, but he was so happy to be so close to Alejandro, and was still basking in the glow of their lovely hug, that he couldn’t quite master his face. The make-up was cold on his skin as Alejandro painted it on, and Joe put his hand around Alejandro’s wrist. “Hang on, let me get rid of this silly grin.”

He stared into the mirror and finally managed to iron it away. “There. Gone. Sorry about that.”

“Is that grin for me? I don’t think I make many people so happy!”

“You do, you make me happy.” Joe settled back in the chair, poker-faced now and ready for his make-up.

“Let’s spin this chair,” Alejandro decided, doing just that. “So you get a surprise when I’m done!”

Joe liked the idea of that. And it was one of his reasons for being so fond of Alejandro. He took the simplest thing and turned it into magic. But that didn’t surprise Joe. Alejandro had been taken to film studios in his carrycot, after all. He was in his element with a brush in his hand, creating with paints and makeup.

“So I have had two bits of good news today.” Alejandro didn’t pause as he worked, his face set in concentration. “One for soon, one for next year. Which would you like to hear first?”

“Hmmm… Let’s try the soon one first.” Joe had managed to speak whilst barely moving a muscle of his face, which had made him sound as if he were at the dentist.

“Abuelito wanted to know all about Paloma,” he admitted. It wasn’t a surprise really, given that Abuelito was an old naval chap, after all. “So I showed him some videos and he loved her! But that’s not the news. The news is party news.”

Joe wasn’t surprised that Abuelito had enjoyed the videos. He was a game old bird after all. “A party? Oh, are you going to perform again, like you did at Vicky’s?”

“One of his charities is having a big do at Windsor in a couple of weeks and they’re trying to make it a bit more edgy and a bit less cream tea so they’d like Señorita Picante to give them a 1940s set. I said I’d love to but I’d have to ask my CPO, whoever he was going to be.” He winked. “Can I go, Sergeant? Can Paloma stay out late with a bunch of gorgeous sailors?”

“Windsor? Well, yes, why not? I’ll take you to the door, of course.”

“And you’ll come with me to rehearse?” He picked up a cake of white paint. “And not leave my side?”

“Yes, of course. You’ll be safe in Windsor Castle, no doubt about that, but if they don’t mind me trotting along too. I am your man, after all. I mean, your CPO.” Joe had been to parties at Windsor before, but a party with Paloma was something very special indeed.

“The gramps are terribly worried about all this. They think you should come to the bash too, castle or no.” He dabbed his brush into the paint cake and paused. “Black tie, Osito, no generic suits.”

“I own a tux, never fear!” Joe wondered if Alejandro would be surprised by that. “I wore it a few times when I was working for your mum, actually. You know how much she likes a glam event!”

“I do! She’s so glad you didn’t abandon me.” The brush dabbed Joe’s skin now, soft and cold against his shoulders. “There was talk of a safe house but… I haven’t had a home—a real home—since I lost Papá. I’ve been in schools and moving around with Mamá, then America was a whirlwind. This is the first time I’ve had a place that’s mine and I don’t want to leave my home just because of Fuckface.”

“I don’t blame you. It’d be like they’re winning if you have to move,” Joe murmured. He was feeling more relaxed than he had done for a long while. This was pampering, wasn’t it? A sort of pampering that made him tremble a little. “You’ll be safe here. They’ve increased security, and even if you do have to move, you’ll be able to come back here. It wouldn’t be for long. By the way, what was your other piece of news?”

“The tacky, garish, slightly saucy—basically me all over—Cirque du Vegas is opening in London next year with a brand-new show.” He dusted the brush in long strokes along Joe’s neck. “And they’ve signed me up as creative director! I had an idea they would but they might not have, you never know. So I’m busy until this time next year at last and it’s right here in London. No more long-haul flights and unflattering socks!”

“That’s fantastic news!” Joe almost jumped up in his seat, but he managed to stay where he was and not jog Alejandro’s hand. “Well-deserved, too.”

“It’s a proper project. Something to really get my teeth into. They want something wondrous, even more than the unicorns and chameleons you’ve already seen.” He paused. “And I’ll be here in England, Osito, and if you’re not in Japan, so will you. And Paloma too!”

“That does sound amazing. And don’t worry, I’m not going to Japan. I’ve told Wendy, but she’s the sort of person who insists and doesn’t give in, so right now she’ll be certain that eventually I’ll cave and go with her. But I won’t.” Joe watched powder curl up from the path of Alejandro’s brush. “It’s time I sorted out a—a divorce, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry it’s come to that. I know you probably don’t believe me, but I am.” He cocked his head to one wide, studying Joe’s face. “Why ever did you get married, Joe? Nobody minds if you’re gay these days!”

“My dad did. He was old school.” Joe closed his eyes, wondering if he should say anything. But he had never spoken about it, and now was the time to open up. “He’d been a copper too, rose up the ranks. Wanted—expected—me to be a copper as well. So that’s all I ever wanted to do. And when his old mates came round, I’d lap up their stories, but there was always something in them…about pansies and poofters and all of that.” Joe cleared his throat, dislodging the hateful words.

“And I thought, I can’t let them know. And for ages, I just…told everyone I had trouble finding girlfriends. That seemed to work. Until my dad started to pester me. He wanted to be a grandad—I suppose he wanted another generation to join the police. And his friend’s daughter, well, she was a high-flying solicitor who hadn’t had time to go on dates. I went to dinner with her a couple of times, just to shut my dad up, but, well, like I say, Wendy’s very persistent. In the end, she suggested we get married and I didn’t know what to do. Tell her no, tell her I’m gay or say yes and have a marriage of convenience? No one would think I was gay then, would they? She seemed fascinated by my job, too. But do you know what I found out today? That she married me as a networking opportunity! She thought your family would want to be her clients! Which is funny really, because I stayed with her partly to hide the fact I’m gay, but… I’m a fucking idiot, honestly. I thought she loved me and I didn’t want to hurt her.”

As Joe had been pouring out the truth he has never spoken aloud before, Alejandro had paused, his face filled with concern. He reached out and softly brushed Joe’s hair. There was more gentle affection in that simple gesture than Wendy had shown him in years.

“Have you ever… Have you had a boyfriend before?”

“Not…not as such. Before I met Wendy, I went out on the scene a few times, but not too often in case someone spotted me. Kissed, got friendly, if you know what I mean, but never…” Joe sighed. How bloody embarrassing. “Don’t laugh, okay, but I’ve never gone to bed with a man.”

“Or a drag queen,” he said, then went back to the painting. “I wouldn’t laugh at you. I’m not that much of a bitch. Whoever gets to be the first is going to be a lucky and gorgeous Spanish makeup whizz.”

“I’m sure with practice I’ll get the hang of it!” Joe laughed. “I wasn’t too bad at landing on top of you yesterday, was I? But in future I’ll try to avoid breaking your shoes.”

“I’ve forgiven you for that. Keeping my head on my shoulders beats snapping a heel.”

Joe patted Alejandro’s arm. “You didn’t get any bruises? Those steps are quite high.”

“I landed on Paloma’s bum,” he said. “She’s well padded.”

“Just as well!” Joe followed Alejandro’s brush from the corner of his eye as it skated over him. “How am I looking, makeup maestro?”

“Stunning. You’re quite a model!” He turned back to his paints. “Now still and silent, Sarge, so I can work on that handsome face of yours.”

Joe closed his eyes, and let Alejandro’s brushes stroke his face like the promise of kisses to come. For a long time, Alejandro painted on in silence, the fragrance that he and Paloma shared as heady as his proximity as he worked so closely to Joe, as focussed now as he had been frenetic before. Occasionally he murmured to himself in Spanish or hummed one of his melodies but there was no other sound, not even traffic passing outside. Finally, he stood back and looked at Joe with a critical eye, chewing his lip.

“Keep your mouth closed and your lips straight, or you won’t get the impact. We’re ready!” He moved to the back of the chair and took it in his hands then, with an exclamation of “Ta-daaaa!”, spun it back to the mirror.

Joe struggled to keep his mouth closed as his reaction was to gasp. He didn’t look like himself any longer, but had been replaced by…by… He was some sort of living cartoon, a Lichtenstein come to life. He was square-jawed, his face a mass of dots like cheap comic book printing, with black lines for contours, shaping his face to make him look like someone else. It was incredible.

Keeping his lips together, he pointed to his mouth, his eyebrows raised in a question.

Can I please speak?

“Opinion, please. Be honest!” Alejandro watched through the mirror, his hands to his face in trepidation. “Then photos. If you think it’s good enough.”

“Good enough?” Joe hopped up off the chair and leaned closer to the mirror. “This is amazing! I-I’m stunned. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve seen photos of people trying to get this sort of look, but this is better than anything I imagined. It doesn’t even look like me! Thanks so much, Alejo.”

“Can I take some photos? Chest up, paint only. I won’t Insta them, don’t fret.” He took his phone from the back pocket of those ridiculously skinny jeans and waited.

“Yeah, of course you can. The question is, though, how long do I keep it on for? Until bedtime?”

“Lips together!” Alejandro gestured Joe to take a step to the right, so his background was the dark red of the room’s thick curtains. Then he began snapping photos, committing that remarkable make-up for posterity. “Keep it on as long as you like. I won’t be offended it you’d rather wash it off, don’t worry. Sometimes, when Paloma’s been out on the town, I can’t wait to be barefoot and bare skinned again.”

“I’ll keep it on. If Leviticus pays a call, they’ll be so stunned when they see this on my face that I’ll collar them once and for all!” And that would certainly be an intriguing new technique to use when immobilising felons.