Page 7 of Gideon
I blink. “You’ve created a monster,” I say accusingly to Niall, and he shrugs.
“He’s very bossy now. It’s extremely beneficial in the bedroom.”
“Ugh!” I shake my head. “I don’t want to know.”
“Are you bothered about the film?” Milo asks, and that quickly his bossiness is gone, replaced by worry. I exchange a look that says everything with Niall. Love and tenderness towards the kind, gentle man that my brother is.
I consider myself and realise how really awful I feel. Weak, drained, old, and tired. So very weary. “No,” I say finally, seeing Milo sag with relief. “It’s alien to me not to want to work because it’s all I have. I just don’t think at the moment I could stand the idea of being on set. Even thinking about it is fucking exhausting.”
“That’s good,” my brother says gently. “According to Frankie’s wails, that means that you now have a six-month window in your diary for the first time since you were seventeen. That’s plenty of time.”
“For what?” I ask nervously.
“For us to get your life in order.”
There’s a rap on the door before I can argue and a nurse puts her head around the door. “Mr Grantham is waiting very anxiously out here.” She grimaces slightly. “Any chance he could see Mr Ramsay?”
“He certainly can,” Milo says sweetly and sits back in his chair. “Please tell him to come in. I’m sure Gideon will be ecstatic to have a conversation with him.”
Niall and the nurse wince in unison.
“Could I have some morphine first?” I ask mournfully.
Frankie explodes into the room a few seconds later, and I take the time to look at the man who’s been my agent since my career started. I met him after a school production ofHamletin which I’d played the title role. He came up afterwards and introduced himself as a talent scout for a well-known agency.
He’d been full of praise and bright admiring eyes, and I’d lapped it up, knowing that there was no one in the audience who belonged to me apart from my best friends Niall and Silas. Everyone else had their families sitting in the seats they’d been allocated. I had no one because my mother and father were taking Milo to a pantomime. I’d felt almost embarrassed to have to give my tickets to other people and ended up telling a story of my parents being away for work. That excuse had been accepted unquestioningly as we were at boarding school.
This man who was then in his mid-twenties had been interesting and bohemian-looking, wearing ripped jeans and aSesame Streett-shirt when all the parents were in their Sunday best. I’d been amused by his chain smoking despite the Head’s pointed glances at the No Smoking sign, and I’d been intrigued by his honeyed words of praise and offers of more money than I could imagine. He’d been like the pied piper of cool and I’d happily followed him, abandoning my plans for a university career without a backward look.
He’d abided by his promises and when he announced his intention of leaving the agency to set up independently I’d followed him again, lending my name to the operation which I’m pretty sure is why he has so many A-list clients now.
I look at him now as he paces angrily over to me and it’s like I’m seeing a stranger. Gone is the man with the overlong hair and penchant for wearing t-shirts with political slogans. Instead, Frankie now wears bespoke designer suits and shiny wingtip shoes. His wild hair is corralled into a short back and sides and slicked ruthlessly down. His expression has lost that laid-back charm that so appealed to me and become tense and angry-looking.
Still, I can’t fault him for that. There’s no trace of that starry-eyed boy in me anymore either. No sign of the lad who wanted to act more than anything. Now, I mostly make money and headlines for bad behaviour and the public as a whole love me, but I know they’d turn on me in seconds if they really knew me. I know this because Frankie has told me often enough.
“What the fuck, Gideon?” he growls, pushing his hand into his suit pocket and drawing attention to the big belly he now sports because of too many expense lunches.Mostly my expense,I think idly.
“Hello, Frankie,” I say smoothly. “Thank you for your concern. Yes, I am fine, thank you. I’m sure I’ll manage to pull back from my headlong rush towards death.”
“So dramatic,” Niall breathes. Milo huffs, glaring at Frankie as if he’s imagining dissecting him.
Frankie waves a casual hand. “I knew you were alright,” he scoffs. “Your brother was kind enough to pass on a few pieces of information.” He throws Milo an acidic look, and I stir.
“My brother is my next of kin,” I say coolly. “And unlike mostly everyone else, he was actually concerned about me. As such, he can do as he bloody well pleases. If I die he gets everything. I’d give it to him while I was alive if I thought he’d accept it.”
“Oh, don’t talk about that,” Milo protests, looking upset and grabbing my hand. Niall kisses the top of his head and I watch as Frankie makes a moue of disgust at seeing two men behaving affectionately.
He looks up and flushes as he catches me watching him with a raised eyebrow. Obviously realising that he’s misstepped, he changes the subject fluidly. “Lovely as that is, we need to talk, Gid. This is a complete disaster.” He shakes his head. “I’ve done the best I can. The two blokes have been paid off and signed nondisclosures.”
“W-Why,” Milo stutters slightly and we all turn to look at him. I smile encouragingly and he carries on. “N-Nondisclosures imply that he was doing something wrong. He was just in a threesome, n-not running around dismembering hotel guests.”
“I’m so glad I cancelled that portion of my evening,” I say, and he grins at me suddenly before turning back to Frankie.
“He’s not married. He’s n-not with anyone. It might be scandalous to the general public but it’s hardly a hanging offense. He’s …” He pauses. “I was going to say that he’s a responsible man, but I couldn’t get the words out.”
“Because of the stutter?” Frankie asks.
“No, because it would be an appalling lie,” Milo says pertly, making Niall laugh.
