Page 49 of Gideon
“Alright, Sparkles?” he says, and Milo laughs.
I grin and sit back. “I think I’d like to take cooking lessons,” I say consideringly, and Niall chokes.
“Pardon?”
“Cooking lessons.”
“For meth?” he asks hesitantly.
Milo huffs indignantly. “It’s notBreaking Bad, Niall.”
I laugh. “No. I think I’d like to learn how to cook, read some books, and just relax.”
Niall stares at me for a long second before dismissing the retort that is quite obviously dying to come out. “How about asking Maggie, the cook up at the house? She loves teaching people how to do things.”
“Ooh, yes,” Milo says enthusiastically. “Her cooking is wonderful, Gid.” He grins. “This is going to be brilliant. I’msoglad you’re here.”
I sit back. “I think I’m going to like it here,” I say contemplatively.
ELI
My best friend, Jesse, hugs me and steps back. “Fucking hell, you look good,” he exclaims loudly, ignoring the glare of a middle-aged lady next to us.
I smile an apology at her and drag him away. “Where’s the car?”
“‘Wow, Jesse, how lovely to see you. Thank you so much for driving all this way only to turn round and drive back again.’ No really, Eli, you know how I live to get stuck behind fifteen caravans and a tractor for four hours.”
I look apologetically at my best friend. Tall and slender, he has shiny mink-brown hair with a quiff that often threatens to collapse all over his high-boned face. “I’m sorry,” I say immediately. “Thank you so much for doing all this driving. I could have caught the train, though. Are you too tired to drive?”
“Dreadfully,” he says soulfully and then grins. “Not really. I picked up a job in Newquay yesterday, so I stayed overnight.”
“What was it this time?”
“New boyfriend for a promotion party to honour the bloke’s ex.”
I blink. Jesse works for an agency that deals mainly with LGBT clients, supplying people for all sorts of needs. In his time, he’s posed as an admirer to make an ex jealous, landscaped a garden for clients, walked dogs, and he once even babysat some goldfish while their owner was away. But we still call him an escort, and Charlie, our other friend, calls him Vivian fromPretty Woman. He’s a very beautiful man who, when he wants to, can be very charming, which accounts for his success rate. However, he’s also quick-tempered and funny and my best friend since primary school.
“How did it go?” I ask, taking my jacket off and throwing it over the back seat.
“Interesting.” He purses his mouth. “It was going pretty well, if I do say so myself. I was quick-witted, attentive, and all-round perfect. The food was lovely and the cake was a masterpiece.”
“So, what happened?”
He shrugs. “The ex threw the cake at me, stormed to the toilet, and my client followed him in order to have very loud bathroom sex while we all waited in an awkward sort of silence in the dining room.”
I burst out laughing. “What did you do?”
“I love the way that my pain is yours,” he says wryly. “You’ll really have to stop being so empathetic.”
“Bugger that. What happened?”
He huffs. “I pretended to be devastated for at least an hour. Then I pulled one of the junior partners.”
I shake my head. “You are truly a tart with a heart of gold.”
He laughs. “Thank you very much. Can I have that inscribed on a cup?”
“I’ll even do it in italics. So what’s next for you?”
