Page 106 of Playing to Win

Andrew withdrew his fork from the remnants of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. “If I see one more article about the Bullingdon Club, I will jab this through my eye socket into my frontal cortex. It’s your job to stop me.”

“Or you could just ignore it,” Reggie said.

“I’ve barely glanced atTatlerin months.” He frowned at the headlineFirst-Class Departure: The poshest old-people’s homes.“Now I remember why.”

“Not even a peek at the Bystander pages? To see if you’ve finally made it in?”

“What do you mean, ‘finally’? I was in the April issue, remember?” When Reggie shook his head, Andrew pulled out the duplicate copy he’d bought at the newsstand (the original occupying a cherished space in his bedroom cupboard). “I was at the NME Awards afterparty at the Glade Bar in February, a week after I came out.” He passed it across the table to Reggie. “Page 216,” he said, then regretted how vain and pathetic he looked, still knowing the page number after all these months.

Andrew remembered how he’d gazed at that Bystander picture every day, his heart swelling at this proof he was still socially important despite his coming out—or perhapsbecauseof it. Odd how he’d not even thought of the photo since he’d started dating Colin.

Reggie thumbed through the pages, wearing thatI’m-so-good-at-humoring-himlook. Then he suddenly grabbed the magazine and pulled it close to his face. “Sir, is this a joke? Did one of your mates do this?”

“Do what?”

With a foreboding look, Reggie turned theTatlerand slapped it onto the table between them.

In the picture, Andrew was posing between Peaches Geldof and Blondie’s legendary Debbie Harry, who’d just won the Godlike Genius award. Debbie’s scarlet pantsuit matched the handkerchief protruding from the pocket of Andrew’s black silk designer shirt.

It also matched the angry crosses now obliterating Andrew’s eyes, the slash across his neck, and the two words scrawled in the margins:

FASCIST FAGGOT

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

“REGGIETHINKSIdid it?” Colin pressed the phone harder to his ear as he stepped off the Number 60 bus. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

“Of course not,” Andrew said at the other end of the line. “But he knows I left you alone in the flat Sunday to fetch dinner. We spoke about it while he was driving us home, remember? So as far as Reggie’s concerned, you had opportunity and motive.”

“Motive? What motive?”

“Political motives, because you’re a Yesser. Just like the arseholes who’ve been harassing me online.”

“Fuck.” Colin started down Maryhill Road toward the park where the Warriors’ first league match of the new season would start in an hour. He’d been looking forward to this day for months.

But now that Andrew had sent him a pic of the gruesome Bystander page, all Colin wanted was to hop on a train to London to be by his side.

“So who could be doing this ‘fascist faggot’ stuff?” he asked Andrew as he stepped into the bike lane to avoid a clump of Yes campaigners blocking the pavement. “It has to be someone who’s been in your flat while you were out or asleep, not just someone who knows your address.”

“That’s a pretty short list—only a few close mates, plus the lady who feeds my fish. Then there’s my family, of course, and Timothy, and you. Obviously Reggie—”

“Wait. Timothy? The stableboy?”

“Stablemaster. He and I, we were—” Andrew stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

Colin felt his head turn hot, and not just from the sun beating down on it. “Who ended it, you or him?”

“It was mutual.” Andrew paused. “I suppose I ended it. Not officially, I just…didn’t invite him back.”

Andrew didn’t need to add that Timothy couldn’t invitehimselfback, due to the difference in their “stations.”

“It wasn’t a thing,” Andrew continued. “I mean, yes, it was a thing, but not athing-thing.” He sighed. “We weren’t like you and I, not ever.”

Colin forced his feet to keep moving, resisting the urge to kick every piece of rubbish on the pavement. “Why didn’t you mention him the night of the rock? He wasn’t on the list we made of people with a grudge against you.”

Andrew hesitated. “I didn’t want you to know about him. I thought it might give fuel to your theory that I’ve a penchant for—that I use money to take advantage of men who—” He cut himself off again, clearly floundering.

Colin took mercy on him. “Nae worries about that now, okay?”

---