Page 101 of Playing to Win

Andrew wanted to kick himself. One of these days he’d learn to think first and tweet later. Obviously this was not that day. “I’m so sorry.” He handed Colin a towel. “This wasn’t how I intended to introduce you to the world.”

“No point in you apologizing, or me raging.” Colin tossed the phone back onto the bed. “We’ll just have to make the best of it.”

As they hurried to dress, Andrew marveled at his boyfriend’s composure. On a day-to-day basis, Colin was the excitable one, given to panic and drama, whilst Andrew usually kept a cool head. But in a real crisis, when rocks flew through windows and shitstorms erupted on Twitter, Colin was a pillar of strength.

Right now, Andrew needed that strength.

Outside, he introduced Colin to his sister, tersely, and to her husband, somewhat less tersely. As always, Jeremy was warm and conciliatory, and Andrew hoped his brother-in-law would prove an advocate in this late-night kangaroo court.

Preempting George’s rant, Andrew turned to his mother. “What have I done and how can I sort it?” This approach usually defused family tensions. If Andrew feigned penitence and focused on solutions—which he may or may not undertake—he appeared reasonable rather than defensive. Passive aggression was an art form, and he was its master.

But this time, his brother wasn’t buying it. “You know exactly what you’ve done, you spiteful little beast!” He lumbered toward Andrew, brandishing his own phone, his brawny frame silhouetted in the headlights’ glare.

“Easy, George.” Jeremy intercepted him. Out of all the family, he was the only one still wearing a suit at this late hour. “Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow over breakfast, once we’ve all had a chance to calm down?”

“He’s not staying for breakfast.” George pointed to Andrew’s car. “I want you gone.”

“I won’t leave the boathouse tonight. It’s still mine.” Andrew flinched inside at his own petulance.Be an adult. Be an adult.

“We can’t trust you with this place,” George said. “You’ve brought shame on the entire family, all because you’re angry we’re selling your precious little shack.”

Andrew gaped at his brother. He was used to George insulting his intelligence or his sexual “proclivities,” but to malign the boathouse somehow cut even deeper.

Finally their father stepped forward. “George, you’re not helping in the least.” He turned to Andrew, pulling his woolen jumper tighter across his chest, looking miserable in the chill night air. “Son, you must acknowledge the unfortunate timing of your, erm…” He waved his hand between Colin and Andrew. “Your declaration.”

“It wasn’t a declaration,” Andrew said. “I merely shared Colin’s observation about the BBC story. My profile bio clearly states that retweets are not—”

“Come off it,” George said. “By disseminating his attack, you’re implying you agree with him.”

Andrew gave what he hoped was a withering look. “Perhaps you should learn how Twitter works before you accuse me of being a nationalist.”

“You may notbea nationalist—yet—but you’re obviously fucking one.”

Everyone gasped but Andrew. He’d expected this. “Technically, George, a nationalist is fucking me.”

More gasps. Elizabeth put her face in her hands. “I just want back in my bed. Is that too much to ask?”

George advanced on Andrew. “Is this why you wouldn’t appear with the Better Together campaign like we asked? Because you didn’t want to offend your boyfriend?”

“As Colin can attest, I never hesitate to offend him. And I told you last month why I wouldn’t campaign.” Andrew turned to Jeremy. “Sorry, mate, but those politicians are behaving like complete idiots, Labour and Tory alike.”

“Naturally you know better than they do, Andrew.” George gestured to Colin. “After all, you’re deeply in touch with thecommon man.”

Something inside Andrew snapped. Perhaps it was his brother’s sneer, or the way his cheek was presented at precisely the perfect angle. But it seemed as if a bright red bullseye had appeared on George’s face.

Andrew’s fist landed square in the center of the imaginary target. Pain rippled up his arm, but it vanished in a wave of adrenaline at the sound of his brother’s roar.

“How dare you?” George lunged at Andrew, but Colin grabbed him from behind, trapping his arms against his sides.

“Gonnae no do that, mate.” Colin sounded strangely calm in the midst of the chaos. Elizabeth was screaming, Jeremy and Dad seemed unable to decide which brother to restrain first, and Mum…

Andrew looked at his mother, hoping for the support she’d always given so freely. But her eyes were cold as she stepped into the fray and raised her hands.

“Enough,” she said with a voice of steel. The shouts and struggles ceased immediately. Colin let go of George, who put a hand to his own face to dab at the spot of blood on his cheekbone.

Andrew looked down to see a red stain on the face of his own signet ring. “I’m sorry,” he told his mother, then pressed his lips together, his throat thickening. Another word and he would bawl like a child.

Colin came to stand beside him. “C’mon, let’s go home,” he said quietly.

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