Page 63 of Don't Point at the Moon

“Shelly sent me to come and tell you to bugger off,” said Shelly’s principal assistant. “Her words, not mine. The costumes and props are packed away, the set’s being dismantled and we’ve roped in people to help with the heavy lifting. There are a few hangers-on but we can chase them out. Go enjoy your birthday.”

Relatives of cast members crowded around the stage door, welcoming their offspring with hugs and praise. Tommy made his way to a familiar group, realising how much he had missed the smile Mitchell produced when he approached. And something had changed. He appeared genuinely elated to see Tommy.

“Come on, birthday boy,” said Zane with Emily in tow, throwing his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. “Let’s get our talented stage manager a well-deserved drink.”

“Excellent job,” said Mitchell, as they finally strolled together across a footbridge towards the nightlife.

“So. You’re speaking to me now, are you?” said Tommy.

Mitchell peered around at those in front and behind before leaning in close.

“I’m sorry. In my defence, this has been the worst three weeks of my working life in Hong Kong. But that’s no excuse. My silence was a misjudgement. Let’s talk later.”

Somebody—probably Shelly—had reserved a section of Pink Propaganda for the private after-show and birthday party. Tommy spotted Sammi while the doorman was ticking off his name. She pushed through the crowd to throw herself at him, kissing him on the cheek before taking his arm and dragging him away to meet their friends. A few teacher colleagues wished hima happy birthday on the way. Due to the late hour, he’d agreed that the family celebration for his birthday would be lunch the next day.

“That was flawless tonight,” said Sammi, almost shouting to be heard above the crowd. “Brilliant performances. Everyone said so. And the set was amazing. The best you’ve come up with by far. Kate says she’s in talks with the organisers of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. They might want to put the show on over there.”

“Hang on. You were in the audience?” Tommy asked, surprised. She’d already been to both the Thursday and Friday night performances.

“Even with his crazy schedule, I made Daley fly in,” she shouted, pointing to her fiancé chatting with Oscar. “I loved the show so much, I demanded he come and see for himself. And we wanted to catch up with you.”

The bar was too bustling for him to get a read on his sister. Had Daley or Alec mentioned anything to her about the magazine article? Either Sammi was putting on a brave face, or she was still oblivious. And had Alec told Daley that they had spoken? Right now might not be the best time to ask, but one thing was for sure. The not knowing was killing him.

“And you never told me Mitchell Baxter was such a hunk,” she said as Tommy hugged Alec. Even through that close body contact, he knew his attraction to Alec had changed, as though the opportunity had passed.

“Mitchell?” said Tommy, releasing Daley and frowning at Sammi. Even though he had begun to feel a growing attraction to Mitchell, he was not about to give himself away. “Are we talking about the same person?”

“You see what I mean, Sammi?” said Devon, his arm tightly around Oscar’s waist. “Your brother doesn’t know a good thing when he sees one. Just because the man doesn’t wear designerlabels doesn’t make him unappealing. Never begrudge a book because of its cover.”

Sammi looked puzzled for a second before slowly nodding her agreement. Oscar smiled and shook his head at Sammi before leaning in and kissing Devon on the temple.

Tommy took his time greeting everyone, telling the actors how brilliantly they had performed, accepting birthday cards and presents from friends and having a few drinks along the way. All the while, he avoided Mitchell until he had seen everyone and could have him to himself. But that didn’t seem to be happening, so eventually, he decided to pull Mitchell away from his group, telling them he needed his friend to help with something urgent and private.

Almost tripping over a beer crate, Tommy dragged a curious Mitchell into a darkened corridor leading to the bar kitchen, pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hard. Mitchell did not hesitate this time and returned the embrace, which began to get messy.

“You know it’s my birthday?” asked Tommy, pulling away and wiping a thumb across his own lips.

Mitchell hiked in a breath, his face mimicking shock, before slapping his forehead. “So that’s why they have a big banner with Happy Thirtieth Birthday Tommy Chow taped to the wall at—”

“Shut up and listen. For my birthday present I want you in my bed.”

“I’ve already—” began Mitchell, laughing at first before he registered Tommy’s earnestness. “Are you drunk?”

“Not even halfway.”

“Are you sure about this, Tommy?” said Mitchell, his pupils wide but his expression apprehensive. “Is that going to complicate things between us?”

“I don’t care. If you’re going to be my wedding date, then I believe it’s only right and proper that we consummate thisarrangement. And I need to warn you that if you refuse to come home with me, I’m going to pull down your pants and blow you right here, right now.”

“Let me get my jacket.”

“Meet me out the front of the hotel, along the road,” said Tommy. “I’m going out the back. Otherwise my friends will never let me leave.”

“See you in five.”

* * * *

On spotting Mitchell hurrying down the street towards him, Tommy stepped into the road and hailed a taxi. Without waiting for Mitchell to reach him, he climbed into the back. Mitchell clambered in after him, buckled up and turned to Tommy.

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