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There were several reasons why Frankie felt flustered this morning. Firstly, he had all the boys coming to stay for the weekend and the house looked like a Las Vegas showgirl had exploded all over it - there were sequins, feathers and rhinestones everywhere you looked, all part of Derek’s effort to create a show stopping look for Krystle. There were the endless phone calls and emails from people either trying to interview or book Krystle for an event, mixed in with fan adulation and an occasional bit of homophobia. With Evan back in London, Frankie had to take up the slack and he was finding it a strain. But mostly Frankie was nervous: tomorrow night was his big night too; he was one of the judges after all. He’d had no time to think about what to wear, plan some witty remarks and generally prepare himself for his debut. Krystle may be the star, but surely, he mattered as well. Yet nobody had thought to ask him how he was feeling about it all. He finally understood why Prince Charles always looked so miserable trailing in Diana’s wake. No wonder he picked Camilla: no chance of being upstaged by that.
Frankie was halfway through changing the sheets on the guest bed when he heard a blood curdling scream coming from the kitchen. He flew down the stairs, his heart thumping, terrified of what he might discover. He flung open the door to see Derek steadying himself against the sink. ‘Are you alright?’
Derek spun and waved a green bottle at Frankie’s face. ‘We’re out of gin.’
‘For Petula’s sake, I thought you were being murdered.’ Frankie grabbed the bottle from his hand and dropped it in the recycling bin. ‘You’ll be the death of me, Derek Hopkins.’ Frankie opened the drinks cupboard and retrieved one of the reserve gin bottles. He handed it to Derek with a look that telegraphed “as if I’d run out of gin”.
Derek took the proffered bottle and unscrewed the cap. ‘Even if I knew that’s where you kept it, I couldn’t have reached.’ He poured out two generous servings and topped the glass up with tonic. He handed one to Frankie. ‘Sorry, dearest. I’m all of a quiver. My frock’s not finished and I’ve not had time to rehearse in it yet. It’s not easy doing a Diana Ross arms-out-spin in six-inch heels while wearing an ankle length gown. I might have to make the split a bit higher.’
Frankie took a cleansing mouthful of gin. ‘I would help, but I must finish getting the house ready. And I haven’t got my outfit together yet.’
‘Well that won’t take long. You’ll wear your purple blazer, the black chinos, and that bow tie you have for posh dos.’
Frankie bristled. ‘I can manage my own ensemble, thank you very much. I want to look like I’m judging a talent show at a nightclub, not auditioning to be a panellist on Call My Bluff.’
‘What are you getting so pissy about? I’m only trying to help. Come and whine to me when you have to shave every hair off your body to be camera ready. I wish all I had to do was pick the right shirt.’
Frankie downed the rest of the gin and slammed the glass on the kitchen table. ‘If I’m that bloody insignificant, perhaps I won’t bother showing up. After all, it’s evidently the Krystle Klarity Show, nobody else matters.’ He stormed out of the room before Derek had a chance to respond. As he passed through the hall, he took his coat off the hook, picked up his wallet and keys and headed out of the front door. The adrenalin from Derek’s false alarm propelled him away from the house. He needed some space, some silence, some calm - all things lacking since he’d started seeing Derek. ‘I’m too old for this nonsense. Whatever made me think a relationship was a good idea?’
*****
Scott and Evan were not expecting the sight that greeted them when they knocked on Frankie’s door. Derek opened it half-wearing a silver-sequinned dress and a huge black afro wig, with mascara bleeding down his cheeks.
‘He’s left me,’ Derek sobbed.
Scott turned to Evan, who shared his look of shock. ‘Can we come in?’
Derek stood to one side and let them enter.
Scott took Derek’s arm and led him into the living room. He looked for somewhere for them to sit down, but every surface was covered with bits of fabric or a glittering accessory.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Evan said and disappeared into the kitchen.
Scott put his arms around Derek and hugged him until he stopped crying. ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened?’ Scott handed him a tissue.
Derek dried his eyes. ‘It’s all my fault, I’ve been so caught up in the excitement I think Frankie feels a little neglected. We had a teensy altercation, he stormed out and now I don’t know where he is.’
Scott took out his mobile.
‘That’s no good, dear, he’s left his phone behind. He’s been gone over two hours now. I’d go and look for him, but I’m not exactly dressed for an expedition.’
‘You wait here with Evan, I’ll go and track him down.’ He gave Derek a peck on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, it will all be fine.’
Scott took the short walk to the seafront, heading for Tricky’s, the tacky, yet cosy gay pub that was Frankie’s home-from-home. Sure enough, there was Frankie propped up at the bar, staring into a gin glass. He walked up behind him unnoticed. ‘I thought I might find you here.’
‘Congratulations, Sherlock. I take it you’ve been to the house?’
Scott sat on the stool next to him. ‘Derek is very upset. He blames himself.’
‘As well he might.’ Frankie summoned Stefan, the cute Polish barman and ordered Scott a drink. ‘I walked around for a bit to try and calm down, but I didn’t want to go home. I’m tired of the endless drama, the constant mess. I miss my solitude.’
‘Bullshit.’
Frankie’s mouth hung open. ‘What did you say?’
‘I call bullshit. You were bloody miserable on your own. Years I had you moaning on at me, about how empty the house was, how you wished you had somebody there to look after. This is your new normal. You have to give yourself time to adjust to it. Or would you rather be back on your own again?’
Stefan handed Scott his drink. ‘He is right. You were not a happy man.’
‘Ganging up on me, are you?’ Frankie swirled the ice in his glass.
Stefan wandered off to serve another punter, leaving Scott alone with his friend. He was surprised to see Frankie so melancholic. ‘What’s this really about?’
Frankie turned towards Scott. ‘Love, my boy. Do you remember what it was like when you met Patrick? How besotted you were?’
Scott felt a shiver travel up his spine. It had been some time since he’d thought about Patrick, his late first husband, beyond the occasional flickering remembrance. A feeling close to guilt, tinged with regret and fuelled by sorrow quickly consumed him. ‘Why are you bringing that up?’
Frankie had seen the hurt he’d caused. ‘I’m sorry, Scotty, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve been remembering how love felt when I was younger. It was different. Thrilling. Tantalising. You looked at your beloved and your guts would churn, your heart would flutter, and your brain would tingle.’
‘I thought you felt like that about Derek.’
Frankie shook his head. ‘I feel all sorts of wonderful feelings about him: warm, happy things. But not those urgent, desperate feelings, isn’t that what love is supposed to feel like?’
Scott had felt that initial obsession with Patrick, with Evan, with... ‘Surely that’s how it starts? It settles down after that. Becomes more...’
‘Boring?’ Frankie suggested.
‘No, real. I’m not sure those feelings are love. Aren’t they more likely to be lust-related? Love is not the fluttering loins and aching hearts; it’s sharing a life.’ Scott almost felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t falling for Zach, he was simply having an understandable physical reaction to his beauty.
‘I suppose it was unrealistic of me to expect to have those kinds of feelings for a man I’ve known for decades. I just feel a bit cheated, to have missed out on the thrills and jumped straight to the stage where you’re free to fart in front of each other without apologising. I wanted to have that rush, one last time.’
‘A year ago, you would have given your right arm for what you have now.’
Frankie smiled and downed the remnants of his gin. ‘Do you know, I can’t quite credit it. After all these years, here you are giving me advice on my love life. I do believe you have grown up, my boy.’
Scott instantly thought about how much time this week he had spent texting Zach. ‘I highly doubt that.’
‘Come on, tell Uncle Frankie, what’s going on?’
Scott laughed. He knew Frankie could read him like a book and this was no exception. ‘Nothing, I suddenly feel very old, what with having to be the grown-up for once.’
Frankie did not look convinced. ‘Is Zach down with you?’
Scott bought thinking time by taking a sip of his drink. ‘No, he’s coming down tomorrow.’ A laugh fell out of his mouth. ‘How do you do that?’
‘Dearest boy, I may be having an off day, but there’s not much I don’t comprehend. Let’s take our time finishing these, I rarely get to see you on your own anymore. You can catch me up with what’s happening in Scott-topia, then we can go home and face the troubles and strife.’
Scott raised his glass. ‘Thanks, Frankie. I’ve missed you too.’
*****
When Frankie and Scott returned the house was spotless. All the drag paraphernalia had been tidied away, the carpet had been vacuumed and the scent of lemon Pledge clung to the air. Derek and Evan sat in the living room looking like they were waiting to be called in to see the Headmaster.
‘You have been busy,’ Frankie said. ‘For a moment I thought I’d walked into the wrong house.’
Derek stood up. ‘I am sorry, dearest. I know I let the diva loose, but I’m a little on edge about tomorrow.’
Frankie’s first thought was to instantly forgive, but his instinct said that his little strop had helped set an important precedent regarding future living arrangements. If this relationship with Derek was going to last, then it was crucial that Frankie felt respected, especially in his own home. ‘It’s nice to be able to breathe without ingesting glitter, that’s for sure.’
‘Can I get you boys anything? Are you hungry?’ Derek kept moving his weight from foot to foot, as if he were preparing for fight or flight.
‘I’d love a sandwich or something,’ Scott said. He went and sat down next to Evan on the sofa and pecked him on the cheek.
‘Yes, I’m famished after all that housework,’ Evan said.
‘I was going to grill some chicken,’ Derek said, ‘but I forgot to buy any. I think there are some beans in the cupboard.’
‘Why don’t we eat out?’ Frankie said. ‘I quite fancy a Chinese; we could try that place in the Lanes.’
‘I think that’s Thai.’
‘That’ll do.’
Derek crossed and stood in front of Frankie. ‘Are we OK, pet? I promise not to get so carried away again.’
‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’ Frankie kissed Derek on the lips. ‘I guess that’s the price I pay for dating an internationally renowned superstar.’
Derek did a twirl. ‘Even so, I’ll aim to be more Maria von Trapp than Mariah Carey in the future. Ooh, that’s given me an idea. Does anybody know where we can get a nun’s habit?’