Page 39 of Asking For a Friend

“Not at all. I’ll throw my partner out, and we can talk.” Ellis has been watching the debacle from our office doorway.

“There’s no need for that. I can be quick.” He blushes. “That didn’t sound good.”

I grin, something I haven’t done much lately. “Come on in, Connor.”

“I shouldn’t be here, but I wanted to say a couple of things to you. First, thank you for the ride home on Saturday.”

I point to a seat for him. “You’re welcome. I was happy to help, and it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. The other thing is about Lando.”

“Is he okay?”

“Apart from how pissed off he’d be with me if he knew I was here, he’s fine.”

I’m aware of Ellis soaking up all this, so I try to hurry Connor up. “What’s going on, Connor?”

“Okay, here it is. He told me why he broke up with you. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you did the same as the others. I want to know if what he saw was real. If it is, then please leave him the fuck alone. Lose his number and stay away.”

“It isn’t true. The man he saw me with is my brother. I haven’t seen him for fifteen years. It was such a shock to hear from him again that everything else went out of my head. I was with him and his fiancé all weekend. I must have switched my phone to silent. I’m a wanker. I know that. I called Lando enough times to explain, but he won’t listen. I know it’s over. I hate it, but he’s made up his mind.”

Connor nods, but a small smile plays on his lips. Why? It isn’t funny at all. “Listen, he regrets not talking to you on Saturday and for not answering any of your calls. He’s realised there are two sides to this story, but he’s a stubborn prick and won’t do anything about it. So, as his friend, I’m asking you not to give up on him. He still loves you, and I think if you call him again, he’ll answer.”

With that, he turns around and leaves.

When I walk into The Coffee Bean, the squeal Kate lets out could wake the dead. She rushes from behind the counter, squeezes through the queue of waiting customers, and pulls me into a mama bear hug.

“Yay, Lando! You’re back. Go and grab your table. I’ll bring your drink over.” She kisses my cheek and darts back behind the counter.

I do as she said and slip past the line to the back of the shop. After dropping my messenger bag on the table and shrugging out of my thick coat, I sit down. Thanks to Kate’s melodramatic act, more than a few people look my way. One man is scrutinising me in a manner that’s bordering on uncomfortable. He’s a few years older than me. Probably early thirties and good-looking. A small smile lifts the corner of his lips as if he’s recognised me. I can cope with that.

When he reaches Kate, he speaks to her for longer than the usual exchange of payment talk. She looks my way, nods, and says something back. He leaves without giving me another glance.

Once the rush has died down, Kate comes over with my tea and a breakfast sandwich. “Who was the guy asking about me?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him here before. He wanted to know if you were Lando Hardwick, the writer. He seemed happy to be correct. He wasn’t another Hesketh. Don’t worry about that.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” In the week since the nightmare of my mother’s party, I’m still kicking myself for not talking to Hesketh. For not inviting him in and asking for a retry. It’s too late now. It’s time to stop moping over him and get back to work. The new book is going well. The characters are fun and have none of the problems I have.

As I blow over the surface of my hot tea, my failed relationships play on a reel in my head. Michael was a way out of my childhood home. I even knew that at the time. On reflection, the image of being out with a thirty-year-old man when I was eighteen was sad, not cool or fun. He wanted a twink who would bounce on his cock whenever he wanted. He just didn’t want me in his home, taking up space. It soon went to rat shit when arguments took over the sex and I knew he was cheating on me. I don’t hold it against him, not anymore. What is he doing now? Still on the hunt for young boys, someone to treat and spend money on, or has he met someone and settled down? Maybe he’s losing his hair and got a paunch. That would be awesome.

Philip took his place. We were in the same bar on a Friday night, a cliché of eyes meeting in a crowded room. He gave me a cute half smile—with dimples—and I smiled back, and with one gesture of his head, I left my co-workers and wove through the throng to him. All that happened was a repeat of Michael, then Alan, then Luke. As I got older, so did they, and I made myself out to be the victim when really I was the instigator by not changing my type.

Hesketh isn’t like them. For a start, he’s not much older than me. Okay, the dimples are still a huge turn-on, but nothing else is the same. Like a fucking idiot, I dumped him without talking about what I’d seen. How can I blame him for our relationship failing if I didn’t let him explain? And isn’t admitting that a kick in the nads?

My phone chimes, breaking my walk down memory lane. It’s Scottie, which can only mean he wants to go out. For once, I feel like it. A night of shots, dancing and getting groped on a packed dance floor sounds perfect.

Not bothering with niceties, I answer the phone. “When and where?”

“Haha, dude, you know me too well. Oscars, nine o’clock, Friday night. Dress to impress.”

“See you there.”

The dark green corset looks different now without a shirt underneath and mixed with tight black leather trousers. I’m out to kill tonight. I even painted my nails black and ringed my eyes with black kohl. As I approach the table, Scottie nearly spits out his drink. Connor raises his hand, and I high-five him.

“Jesus, Lando, I think three men just came in their pants as you walked past them.” Thom copies Connor and slaps my palm. “What the fuck is this look all about?”

“What do you think it’s about? I’m on the pull tonight.”

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