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‘If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate, it’s unprofessionalism. Yesterday was one of our biggest events of the year, one you were meant to be managing, and not only do you fail to show up, but you’re completely uncontactable. It’s lucky for you that Natasha had your password and was able to access your files, or we’d have been left handing out cheesy wotsits in the car park.’
Evan sat with his hands gripping the armrests of his office chair, as Simone’s endless tirade washed over him. Judging by the clock on the wall opposite, he’d been harangued for at least ten minutes straight. He’d stopped fully listening after the first minute or two, occasionally drifting back in to make sure he had the gist of what was being said. He’d been expecting this, after all he had been absent from work for four days and had blocked Simone’s number on his phone. He did feel a tad guilty to have left them shorthanded for the event, but he had given Natasha his password and confirmed all the arrangements with the venue.
‘Quite frankly, Evan, I’m not sure what to do about all of this. I’ve never had to discipline someone for dereliction of duty. Have you nothing to say for yourself?’
Finally, Simone had drawn breath. Evan looked at her, she was quivering with anger, no doubt fuelled by the adrenalin that comes when you have to initiate an inevitable conflict you’ve had too much time to rehearse in your head. Evan thought about what he could say in his defence. He might not have been at work, but he had been working. He and Derek had had a very fruitful week - doing interviews, planning public appearances, producing merchandise - it was truly impressive what they’d been able to achieve in such a short space of time. More than that, Evan had enjoyed himself. It had not even felt like work, it was exciting to promote someone he genuinely liked, instead of all these grasping C-list celebs hawking their latest shadow-written soft porn so-called novel. This is what he wanted to be doing with his life. A year ago, he would have had no choice but to suck up this abuse and fight to keep his job, desperate for the pay cheque to cover his credit card minimum payments. But times had changed...
‘You’re right, Simone.’
Simone’s lips flapped like a goldfish out of water, it appeared that this was not the response she had prepared for. ‘Right. I am. Good. So...’
‘So... I think it would be best if I resigned.’ Evan forced his face to stay motionless, beating back the smirk that was fighting to break free.
‘Resign? Right. Yes. That might be...’
Evan stood up. ‘To be frank, Simone, I owe you a debt of gratitude. You made me realise that Burton Price is not the right place for my talents. After all, if somebody like you can get promoted, I’m obviously lacking the right qualities to get on here. I’m happy to work out my month’s notice if that’s what you want.’ Evan picked up his bag and grabbed his wallet and phone from his desk drawer. ‘Email me when you decide. I’m going to leave now, as I’m still not feeling a hundred percent. See you Monday. Or not.’
With that he walked out of the office, his only regret was that he didn’t dare look back to see the look on her face.
*****
Even by the standards of a Friday morning, Scott had been spectacularly unproductive. He’d spent most of his time engaged in a WhatsApp chat with Zach. The poor chap was obviously bored, as he appeared to have nothing better to do with his morning. Zach was installed in some Starbucks somewhere and providing Scott with a running commentary on the clientele, replete with surreptitiously taken photos, which was surprisingly hilarious. The latest subject of discussion was a young hipster who had dyed his hair grey.
SCOTT: ‘I don’t get it. Why would anyone choose to be grey? Mine’s starting to appear, I keep thinking I should colour it.
ZACH: 1 - it’s ironic, I think, I kinda like it. 2 - you totally rock the salt’n’pepper look.
SCOTT: Do you think? I guess it can look good on some guys.
ZACH: Please, it’s totally a hot look. Why do you think these dudes are dying their hair?
‘Harper. My office, please.’ Marjorie’s voice boomed off the walls.
Everyone looked at Scott, who gave the traditional “what does she want now?” eye-roll that made his colleagues smile. He popped his head around her office door. ‘You called?’
Marjorie was peering at her screen as if deciphering a hieroglyphic that might contain the location of the holy grail. ‘Had this email from Grant, she’s got herself signed off sick for six weeks. Stress it says. Well, we’re all bally stressed. Can’t all be taking months off work for it, or the whole damn country would grind to a halt.’
Scott decided against coaching his boss on a more modern response to mental health, he’d leave that to Donna in HR. ‘At least we’ve heard from her and have some clarity on where we are. Perhaps we could ask Suzy to act up and cover her? It would be good experience.’
‘If you think she’s up to it.’ Marjorie’s expression suggested she did not.
‘I’ll talk to her.’ All Scott knew was he didn’t want to have to do two people’s jobs for the foreseeable future. ‘Did Mel say anything else? Did she send any contact details?’
Marjorie peered back at the screen. ‘Not that I can see, but at least we know she’s looking at her emails again. All right, Harper, carry on.’
Scott headed back to his desk. Poor Mel, she must be in a bad way. He thought he should send her an email, hold out an olive branch to let her know he was there if she needed him. It couldn’t hurt.
‘Hi, honey.’
Scott turned and was surprised to see Evan behind him. ‘Hi. What are you doing here?’
‘I’ve got something to tell you, can we go somewhere private?’
*****
Scott decided to take an early lunch. He walked with Evan to the little pub around the corner that did fantastic food. On the way he filled Evan in on the latest about Mel, they agreed it was at least a relief that she was back in touch with work. Scott could feel his phone vibrate several times on the short walk, no doubt more messages from Zach, but he didn’t want to read them in front of Evan. Not that he had anything to hide, but the relationship he’d developed with Zach was his own, separate somehow to the relationship they had with Zach as a couple. That might seem a little weird, but it also felt right, that this was his own business.
Evan asked how Nellie was doing. The one bonus of Evan being in Brighton most of the week was that Scott had been able to go and spend time with his Nan after work. She’d been brighter this week, but every stutter or absent thought she expressed sent Scott into a panic. It had been stressful having to push his concerns deep down in case she picked up on them. Her appointment was in a little over a week - at that point she’d have to know what he was thinking.
Once they arrived at the pub, Evan got them a quiet table in the corner and Scott ordered their drinks and food at the bar. It was just after 11am, so they were well ahead of the lunchtime rush. Scott placed a pint of cider in front of his husband. ‘So, what have you got to tell me?’ As Evan picked up the glass, Scott thought he could see his hand shaking slightly. He had a sudden sense of foreboding. ‘Nothing bad has happened has it?’
Evan took a gulp of cider and shook his head. ‘No, quite the opposite.’ He put the glass down and looked straight at Scott. ‘I’ve quit my job.’
Various responses jumped into Scott’s mouth, but he was wise enough to swallow all of them. He hoped his face hadn’t betrayed these knee-jerk reactions. ‘What happened?’ Damn, that definitely came out an octave higher than he intended.
Evan shrugged. ‘Simone was being a bitch and I couldn’t take it anymore. This week with Derek has shown me what I could be doing with my talents, instead of stagnating in that cesspool. So that’s what I’m going to do.’
Scott took a drink from his pint to allow him time to process the revelation. ‘I’m not sure I understand. What are you going to do now?’
An excited grin spread across Evan’s face and he leant in. ‘I’m going to manage Derek. We’ve already started taking bookings this week for Krystle and some of them are paying gigs. If I can dedicate myself to it full time, I believe there’s tons more potential in this.’
Scott nodded. ‘I see. And Derek’s on board with this?’
Evan’s grin slipped. ‘We’ve not had a chance to discuss it all fully, this has only just happened. But in principle, yes, I think so. Once Krystle is established, I can take on some other clients, maybe some of the queens from the drag competition. I can have my own PR agency, be my own boss. It might take a little time to get going, but I really, really, really want to try.’
Scott saw such a look of hopefulness on Evan’s face, any reservations he held melted away. ‘Then that’s what we’re going to do.’
Evan beamed. ‘Really? You don’t mind? I might not be able to contribute much, financially I mean, until this is all sorted.’
Scott took Evan’s hand. ‘I told you, what’s mine is yours.’ Finally, he would have an excuse to clear Evan’s credit card debt. The thought of that liability around their necks had been weighing on his mind. ‘We should work out a business plan, see what you need to do this properly.’
Evan leaned further across the table until Scott met him in the middle for a kiss. ‘You are the best, I’m so glad I married you.’
Scott stole another kiss. ‘Me too.’
*****
Zach looked at his phone, checking for the tenth time that he had a signal. Why had Scott stopped returning his texts? Maybe he was in a meeting. He slipped the phone back in his jacket after checking the time. What was he going to do with the day? He thought London would cure his boredom, but he was beginning to run out of external things to blame for his lethargy.
He’d been happy to be on his own the first couple of days. Two solid weeks with his mother had sated his desire for company at first, but now he felt the need for human contact. It was too early for his usual pastime; the US was asleep so pickings would be slim. Besides, he needed actual, not virtual interaction. He needed someone to pay him attention.
He looked around the coffee shop for a diversion: a couple of mums with their pre-schoolers, some tired-looking business types. He noticed this guy at a table by the window, laptop open in front of him. He was looking right at Zach and was momentarily embarrassed when he was caught. The man looked away briefly, looking back to see Zach holding his gaze. He gave a little nod and Zach smiled back. He was late-thirties, early forties, Zach figured. He had a nice tan, from the sun, not a spray, judging by the colour. Good head of hair, greying at the temples, and a short, smart beard. He wore a suit, not designer, but not cheap. Ring on his wedding finger. He was getting up and coming over.
‘Hi. Roger,’ the man said, extending his hand.
Zach gave it a firm shake. ‘Zach.’
‘Hi, Zach. May I join you?’
There was a quiver in the guy’s voice that Zach always found incredibly sexy - nervousness mixed with excitement. ‘Sure.’ Zach let the word drip from his lips. ‘Why not?’ Zach patted the empty seat next to him and Roger slid into it: Roger’s thigh pressed against his and Zach caught the bittersweet tang of his skin in the air between them.
‘I love your accent,’ Roger said. ‘Are you here on holiday?’
‘Thank you. I was, but I’ve decided to stay a while. Get to know the locals a bit better.’ Zach stretched an arm along the back of the sofa and angled his body towards Roger. ‘English people are so... welcoming.’
Roger loosened his tie with one hand and popped the top two buttons of his shirt: Zach was certain he could see steam rising from the opening. Roger’s hand rested on his thigh, a hair’s breadth away from Zach’s leg.
Zach leant forward and picked up his drink from the coffee table, forcing his body against Roger as he did so - just a moment’s contact. He sipped his coffee and waited. A few seconds later and Roger’s hand was on his crotch. Zach felt himself harden against the pressure. It had been too long since he’d felt someone’s touch. Roger squeezed and Zach felt an inkling of the potential pleasure to come. He checked to see nobody was watching them and moved his arm from behind Roger’s head to his lap. Roger let out a low moan as Zach stroked his already rigid hard-on.
‘You got somewhere we can go?’ Zach asked.
Roger nodded. He reluctantly removed his hand and stood up, adjusting the front of his trousers to hide his erection.
Zach felt a familiar sense of exhilaration and fear, the knowledge of what was about to happen combined with cluelessness about what form it was going to take: would it be slow and sensual, or rushed and hungry; would they instinctively know their parts, or would there be a play for dominance; would it be an encounter for the ages, or a forgettable fumble that might cause a twinge of regret when it fell back into his memory decades from now?
As he followed Roger out of the cafe, Zach thought how astonishingly easy it was to give the most intimate physical parts of himself to a complete stranger when he found it so difficult to share his feelings with anyone. When would he finally meet somebody as eager to put their hand on his heart as they were on his dick?