Page 12 of Asking For a Friend

“I shouldn’t have to make an appointment to see you. You’re my son.” The look is back again, but I give in and open the door.

As soon as she’s in the kitchen, she scans the room and points at Flanaghan, who’s sitting prettily—well, as prettily as an oversized trying-to-be-a-lion cat can—on the table. “I don’t know why you have that creature. The hairs must get everywhere. It’s unhygienic.”

As I walk over to my cat, he stands up, arching his back as I stroke from his head to his tail. “Ignore her, sweetie. She’s a meanie.”

“Oh, I have this from your father.” She tries to act nonchalantly, as if this is just a random thought, pulls out an envelope, and hands it to me.

“What is it?” I take it with trepidation. It’s heavy, expensive paper, with my name written in embossed calligraphy.

“We’re holding a Christmas party. Your presence is expected.”

And now I know the real reason for her visit.

“No. I don’t think so.” A dry humourless laugh breaks free. I don’t know why. After I came out, he ignored me, even if we were in the same room. And has stayed out of my life for the last ten years.

“It’s not negotiable, Orlando. There are some important people coming, ones your father needs for the business. Having you there will show his commitment to family values, something they pride themselves on.”

“I’m too gay, remember? That’s why I’m not welcome in your home. I’m an embarrassment to him. We don’t have any family values, Mother. I won’t let him use me how it suits him. He hasn’t had a kind word for me in the last ten years. Have you forgotten how he made my life hell when I came out? How he treated me?” She’s not even listening to me. My father has told her to make me agree, and she isn’t going to leave until I do.

“Well, that’s all in the past now. You’re an adult and can get over that. It’s one evening. Think of it as a chance to get out of your perpetual jeans and T-shirts and wear a suit or even a tuxedo. I thought people like you enjoyed dressing up.” She crosses her arms over her chest and taps her perfectly manicured, deep red nails on her upper arm.

“I’m not a drag artist, Mother, and stop stereotyping. It’s demeaning. And it’s still no. You may as well leave. I’m not going to change my mind.” I shove the envelope back at her. Thank god I haven’t even got around to putting the kettle on, and I won’t bother now. Flanaghan meows for attention. I pick him up, take him with me to the front door, and hold it open.

She stomps after me, her eyes blazing with thunderbolts. As she reaches me, she stabs a pointy finger in my chest. “This isn’t the end of this. Your father won’t be happy. The next visit may be from him.”

“He hasn’t been happy for ten years. I don’t care, so you can tell him to shove his invitation up his arse. Oh, wait, that may just be a bit too gay for him. Goodbye.” I tap my foot in an exaggerated way for her to leave. “Don’t come back, Mother, not for this, not for anything.”

I slam the door shut behind her. Flanaghan jumps from my arms and storms away, heading back upstairs, his tail bristling like a brush.

I lean back on the wall and close my eyes, drawing in a deep, ragged breath. Why do I still let them affect me? I blow out the breath and shake the tension from my hands, then walk back into the kitchen to make tea. It’s a shame it’s too early for a drink because that bloody woman makes me want one. The envelope still lies on the table, taunting me to pick it up. But I’m not going to. I’ll use it as a coaster. Or I can scribble my shopping list on it and then throw it away.

My phone ringing from the living room stops me from doing foolish things. I rush over and swipe it open. It’s Thom, the last of my ex-flatmates, and my frown turns into a smile.

“What’s up, dickhead?” I ask, not bothering to say hello. We’re way past any polite greetings.

“Nice! You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, wait, your mother is a demon.”

I growl. “You’re right about the demon part. She’s just left in a fit of fury and spite.” I fill him in on the visit and conversation.

“Throw the fucking thing away, Lando. Seriously, you don’t need to do your father’s bidding so people can look at you as if you’re exotic creature.”

“I know. I will. She’s ruined my buzz for the day,” I grumble and go back to the kitchen to finish making my tea.

“It’s date night tonight, right? D’you want to go shopping? We can find something for you to wear, something that makes him want to come in his pants.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll come to your place at about twelve.”

The shopping trip is a great success. It takes a lot longer than I wanted, but I find the perfect outfit: dark navy tapered trousers with the thinnest pinstripe, and a pale-grey fitted button-down shirt. Thom said he even got a stiffy from looking at me. I’m so not his type, so I take it as a compliment.

I check myself in the mirror one last time. The albatrosses are back in full force. I’m going to knock Hesketh’s socks off tonight. Hopefully. I get the text that my Uber is waiting. I grab my jacket and keys and hurry outside.

The pub is busy, but not so much that I can’t look around to see if Hesketh is already here. He’s sitting at a small table, playing with his phone. He’s fucking gorgeous. The excited flutters give way to nervous ones. Why did he pick me?

I don’t know if he’s been watching the door or if he senses my gaze on him, but he looks up and locks eyes with me. The sexiest smile ever slowly spreads across his mouth. I hold my breath, waiting for the dimples. Yep, there they are. And my heart softens a little more. He stands as I move through the people, eager to reach him.

“Hi,” I say, sounding breathless.

Today has gone so slowly, even after my morning in bed, thanks to the wine from last night’s dinner. But finally, I arrive at the pub, which is packed. The interior is nice, cosy. It used to be an old coach house and still has the exposed brickwork and the beams, which give the place a rustic look without being tacky. The bar area is small, with only a few stools. Most of the room is set out with tables of various sizes, and nearly all of them are taken. I instantly like it. The specials board looks amazing, and if the tantalising aromas are anything to go by, the food will taste equally fantastic. I order a drink at the polished oak bar, find a table in a corner opposite an open fire, and wait. I can see the entrance from here. I’m way too early—overeager as usual—but something about Lando enthrals me. Initially, it was only his looks. He was so damn cute as he blushed and stuttered out his apology in the coffee shop. Even though it was my fault he was drenched in coffee.

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