Page 22 of Take My Breath Away
“What I ultimately want is to have my own business specialising in high-end patisserie and specialist celebration cake making and decoration. The luxury end of the market.”
It explains the books on advanced sugarcraft, the love of cooking, the influence of his much loved grandfather. His admission doesn’t come as a surprise.
“Aiming high, and why not.”
“Exactly. I’ve taken specialist courses, as it’s where my interest and skills converge. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for quite some time, but the recent changes in my situation,” he says with a grimace, “have kind of sharpened up the idea, brought it into some kind of focus. If there’s a time to try and make the dream a reality, it’s now. I’ve got photos of some of the cakes I’ve made. Would you like to see them?”
Hesitancy threads through his words, as though unsure whether or not I’d be interested. Of course I am.
“Yes, I would.”
His smile’s big and bright as he pulls his phone from his pocket and scrolls through. Without a word he hands it over. To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it’s not this.
“Perry, these are incredible.” And it’s no more than the truth.
I take my time going through the photos. Traditional wedding cakes festooned with sugarpaste flowers, through to a child’s birthday cake with fairies and unicorns and mermaids. There’s even a rainbow PRIDE cake, edged with hearts. He’s got a talent that deserves to be unleashed on the world. I hand him back his phone, which he takes with a self-conscious smile.
“I’ll need to speak to my parents, as they’ve always said they’d help me out when the time comes — they’ve always run their own businesses, so they’ll be supportive. Don’t get me wrong,” he says, concern creasing his brow, “I enjoy my job and Elliot’s great to work for, but it’s not what I want to be doing in five years’ time.”
I give him a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, but you really mustn’t keep it too much of a secret because—”
My phone rings, cutting me off. I don’t want to take any work calls, because I’ve no doubt that’s what it is. I want to hear all about Perry and his ambitions. It crosses my mind to ignore it, but I’m not in the kind of job where that’s possible.
“Sorry, but I’d better.” I fish out my phone and hold it up. Perry nods as he pushes himself to standing and gathers up the used crockery and cutlery.
“Campion,” I bark.
There have been some issues at work in the last few days and I’m half-expecting to receive calls. Weekday evenings, weekends, Christmas Day, Easter Day, the Queen’s bloody birthday, I’m on call 24/7. Official or not, it’s the way it is.
“That sounds very butch and in command. Are you wearing one of your fuck off suits with maybe the tie a little loose?”
I swallow a sigh. Aiden. He’d got a thing about me being suited and booted, all buttoned up, as he puts it. The guy’s got a serious suit fetish and I seem to feed him until he’s full. I throw a quick glance to where Perry’s stacking the dish washer, because I really don’t want him to hear me talking to Aiden. Getting up, I make my way to the living room, and close the door.
“I know you’re there because you’re breathing hard. Have I caught you doing something you shouldn’t be? Maybe we should switch to a video call.” Aiden laughs and I hear the intake of breath as he draws on a cigarette.
“I’m busy. My friend, remember? I told you about him. He’s still staying with me and we’re finishing up dinner.”In other words, you’re disturbing us.
“Still with you? Ah well, I was hoping we could meet up to have a little fun. The offer’s still open for him to join in.”
“I really don’t think that’s his kind of thing.” There’s a hard snap to my voice. No way is that going to happen, not a hope in hell. Silence stretches out between us.
“So, we’re putting our arrangement on ice for a while?”
There’s a tentative edge to Aiden’s words. It’s a valid question because this is the second time within less than three weeks I’ve given him the brush off. I don’t have an answer for him.
“O-kay, but let’s not leave it too long. Although we’ll have a lot of catching up to do when you’ve finished being the perfect host,” Aiden says as he laughs. “Anyway, thought you might like to know that Harry’s having a party at his place tomorrow. Interested? If you can manage to tear yourself away from your friend for a few hours, that is.”
Party. It’s a euphemism, a handy piece of shorthand. Yes, it’ll be a party all right, with sex and drugs and rock ’n’ roll. Except for the rock ’n’ roll. It certainly won’t be pricey nibble food from Waitrose and polite chat over glasses of white wine. Ordinarily, would I have gone? There’s no doubt about that, but now the thought leaves me feeling vaguely queasy. A home-cooked meal and Perry smiling shyly as we sit huddled in the kitchen…
“James? Are you still there?”
“Yes, yes I am. And no, I won’t be going.”
“Because of your friend?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” My words are brusque, and there’s another silence.
“Right, I think I’m sensing something here. If you’re trying to find an excuse to step back—”
