Page 68 of The Best of Times
“We should get moving,” Paul said. “I can almost taste that Big Mac.”
They said their goodbyes and hotfooted it out of the marquee. The drizzly cold day came as a refreshing relief. Aron gulped in the air.
“Are you okay?” Paul asked.
Aron nodded. He’d spent years wishing his mother would come round. Now she showed all signs that she had begun that journey and he was rejecting her. What did that make him?
The same as her.
“Aron?”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Do you mind if we swerve McDonalds?” Paul asked. “I’ve got a better idea.”
“I’m all yours.”
Paul raised an eyebrow.
“Figuratively speaking,” Aron added.
God forbid I’d show any more interest than an erection.
“Good stuff. Let’s go and get changed.”
Aron followed Paul back to the Professor’s. He’d promised to stay another night there and brought some things over. With it being Christmas Eve, Granny insisted that she spend the following morning with Aron.
The Professor and Paul had already arranged to do a breakfast shift at a homeless shelter. Then all four of them were to come together for Christmas dinner. It was like the official melding of the dynasties.
At least two people around the table were getting their acts together. Aron still found himself in a world of confusion.
Maybe Santa would fix everything.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Leicester Square Underground station was busy. Ten times more than usual. Aron and Paul were barged one way to the other as they did battle with the tourists spilling out onto the famous landmark like ants.
“Are you crazy?” Aron said. “Leicester Square on Christmas Eve? This is worse than Harrods the other day.”
Paul just smirked. He took hold of Aron’s hand and guided him away from the main surge of people. They found themselves down a small side street bordering on Soho. Aron didn’t even want to know what nefarious activities had happened down here over the years. London’s Soho district held many secrets.
“If you’ve brought me all the way into town for a knee trembler, you’re going to be disappointed.”
Paul threw his head back and laughed.
“It’s a little too cold for that. Hit me up in the summer.”
They wandered to the opposite end of the alley. Another busy street beckoned.
The lurid lights of Chinatown shimmered in the distance. The unmistakable bassline of the gay area almost drowned out the endless chatter of the crowds.
Many saw this as the beating heart of the capital city. Most residents wouldn’t be seen dead here. Aron was one of them.
“This is not what I signed up for,” he grumbled.
“Come on,” Paul said. “Have a bit of patience.”
He guided Aron toward a massage parlour. It nestled between a celebrity chef’s new sushi restaurant and an artisan coffee house. It gave off the impression of the last soldier standing in the war against gentrification.
