Page 40 of Branson's Promise

Me:Yep. Give me a few mins.

Locking my computer, I stood from my desk and headed to the stairwell and up to the small rooftop garden our company took great pride in maintaining. There I pulled out a plastic chair and sat down just as my phone started ringing.

“Hey, Bran. How are you?” I could hear what sounded like pots and pans banging in the background.

“Fine. What are you doing?” Letting out a sigh, I stretched my legs out in front of me and tipped my head towards the sky.

“I’m making pasta but reverse for a moment. Why just ‘fine’? What’s up? Last time I spoke to you, you were happy, beaming over the men in your life and bouncing off the walls. Now you sound, I don’t know, just not like you.”

“I’m still happy - very happy - I’m just having a shit day at work and I’m watching the clock until I can go home and see my men.” A smile graced my lips as I thought about the people I’d be spending the evening with.

“Bran, I’ve been telling you for ages to do something else if you hate your job so much. Life is too short for you to spend every day doing something that makes you miserable. If you could do anything, what would it be? And don’t say anything to do with vampires or being in a boy band.”

I laughed. How did my best friend know me so well?

“Um….” What would I do if I wasn’t an accountant? I thought about all the things my dad had dreamed for me and how I’d stalled a bit since moving to New York. Except in the relationship department - that I was more than thrilled with even if sometimes I wondered what dad would have made of me dating two men.

“I love numbers, I think it would be fun to teach maths to kids. Or maybe, I’d stay home and be a kept man.” August laughed at the final bit of my answer but when I didn’t join him he fell silent.

“You’re not joking. You would really want that?” Would I?

“Yes? No? I don’t really know. I just don’t want to be doing this anymore.” Rubbing my eyes, I tried to come up with an actual answer to what exactly I wanted to do with my career. I loved the idea of teaching - I could see myself standing in front of a classroom, teaching young minds how to multiply and divide but it meant studying again, and a part of me hated the thought of quitting something I’d already spent so much time on. “Do you think my dad would be disappointed in me if I don’t stick to accounting?”

“God, no. I’ve read that letter, Bran. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy, so you need to work out for yourself what that looks like. If doing random jobs or going back to school and taking a whole new career path is what it takes, he'd be proud of you for putting your happiness at the centre. What do Noel and Milo think?”

The door to the rooftop opened and two of my colleagues walked out, taking a seat on the far side, engrossed in conversation and not paying me any attention.

“Nothing. Apart from moaning about my day now and then, I don’t talk to them about work. But I will, once I’ve thought it over a little more myself. But what if they think it’s a really bad idea? What if itisa bad idea? This job is secure and it pays the bills, I should probably just stick it out.”

The sounds of a bell on the other side of the phone had August asking me to hold for a moment, and I waited watching a pigeon settle on the ground a few feet away from me. August was back a few moments later. “Sorry, I had a delivery. No, you should definitely not do that - you’re miserable there and that is notwant your dad, or your boyfriends or I want for you. Talk to them - I’m certain they’ll support you, Branson. It’s not a bad idea, it’s a fucking great one so don’t be afraid to give it a go if it’s what you really want to do.”

“It really is and you’re right. I miss you, Auggie Bear.” When I moved to the US, I knew I’d miss him. We’d barely ever been apart, but I never realised just how big this distance between us would feel.

“Same, Bran. Why not ask Daddy Noel to fly you over for a break?” My cheeks burned at his words and my eyes darted to my colleagues who were still in their own world.

“August! You don’t get to call him that! I told you that in confidence, not so you could use it against me,” I huffed but it was all in jest. There was very little I didn’t tell him and very little we didn’t rip into each other about.

“Oh please, you’ve called Caleb, ‘Boss man’ plenty of times despite me telling you only I get to call him that.”

“Touché,” I conceded. “Now tell me, you called for a reason - what’s up with you?”

After chatting to August for another ten minutes, we ended the call and I sat out in the fresh air, the sounds of traffic a soundtrack to the gloomy day. Pulling out my wallet, I unfolded dad’s letter and scanned the contents as though I didn’t already know each and every word by heart. I did this sometimes, looked for hidden meanings in his words - things I may have missed. When I had a question I wanted to ask him, I looked at his words to try and find the answer, wishing that he was still around to give me more nuggets of wisdom. Scanning the letter from beginning to end, my eyes focused on the one word that always drove my decisions -happy.

August was right - it was up to me to decide what that looked like for me and I planned to do just that.

Chapter 21

Milo

Iloved my job. My clients were cool and my boss atSaved in Ink,was so fucking talented and always happy to help me. Most of my clients came to me with designs in mind, which gave me the opportunity to work with them to perfect what they were looking for. The money was okay, I got by and though I didn’t have loads of extra cash to spare after rent and bills, it was worth it to not rely on my father. You couldn’t put a price tag on being able to do what you loved without constant criticism.

The only shit part though, was that, as the most recent one to join the team, I got all the jobs no one else wanted - that includedemptying the trash from the break room. The general waste dumpster for the studio was located around the back of the brick building, down a small alleyway. When it rained, it flooded and when it was warm like it was today, it smelled like rot and piss.

Holding the trash bag in one hand, I walked steadily towards the large dumpster set aside for our property, when a faint squeak reached my ears. The sound was foreign in the dingy alley and I stopped, standing still while waiting to hear it again. When I did, I abandoned the bag against a wall and followed the sound until I was parallel to the dumpster, in front of a closed cardboard box.

Bending down and slowly opening the box, I peeked inside to find a tiny, mangy looking grey and white kitten, all alone and mewling fiercely as though it was a tiger and not a fragile little thing the size of my hand.

“Woah there little tiger,” I said, reaching in and scooping it up. I cradled it against my chest and patted its head with light taps so as not to startle it. The kitten swiped at me, and I laughed. “You’re feisty, that’s good. What's a teeny thing like you doing out here all alone?” I looked around, not sure what I was expecting to find but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just the bins that lined the one wall and the usual rubbish which floated around them.

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