Page 3 of Love ad Lib
Henry shut the door. ‘Dad! Just no. Jesus Christ, that is not what I want.’
His father didn’t seem perturbed. ‘Okay, my boy, not a problem at all.’ He led Henry farther down the long gallery and opened another door. ‘This should be more suitable.’
Inside were a group of good-looking men who smiled with undisguised interest as they met Henry’s gaze.
Henry slammed the door and turned away, trying to control his breathing. His father had lost the plot.
‘Dad, this is…’ He scored his fingers through the tight curls of his short hair. ‘Look, you don’t have to set me up. I can sort out my own love life.’
‘But you’ve never had a relationship—’
‘Yes, Dad, I have.’
‘Not that we know of. You’ve never brought anyone home before—’
‘And why do you think that is?’ he exploded. ‘Jesus Christ. I want to bring someone home to meet anormalfamily.’
His father guffawed. ‘No family is normal. You just mean boring.’
‘I’ll take boring a million times over this.’
'But—'
'And I've got a girlfriend.'
His dad perked up. 'How wonderful! What's her name?'
'None of your business,' he snapped. Lying didn’t come easily to him, and he was beginning to sweat.
'When can we meet her?'
Henry started down the corridor. 'I'm leaving.'
'Henry, hang on…’
But he was done.
'Careful of—'
It was too late. As his front foot made contact with the jelly, it slipped from under him. Henry windmilled his arms to stay upright, his other foot stepping in the gloop. Gathering speed, he slid at an angle along the tiled floor. He reached for a suit of armour to steady himself, but it detached from the wall. For a moment their spin could have been considered dancing before all balance was lost, and the pair crashed to the ground in a jumble of human and metal limbs.
The two first-aiders rushed to his side, seemingly eager to help someone who was fully clothed.
‘Are you okay?’ asked the woman as her colleague removed the pieces of armour.
‘I’m fine,’ Henry spat, getting to his feet and surveying his ruined suit.
His father was bent over, wheezing with laughter. ‘Oh Henry, I wish I’d got that on film. Do you want to borrow some of my clothes?’
Henry shook his head and grabbed his bag. He needed to get back to London immediately. He could control everything there.
1
Henry stared at the contents of his desk drawer. Hundreds of paperclips were strewn haphazardly, a chaotic mess on top of the neatly placed notepad and pens. He picked up a paperclip. It had been bent out of shape. He lifted another, then another. Each one had been fucked with.
James Hunter-Savage.
Henry was usually the last to leave work each evening and the first to arrive the next morning. This had happened during the night. He’d never considered himself a violent person, but the urge to punch his colleague into next year was intensifying daily.
