Page 3 of The Mission

Mark no longer wore hiscostumein front of Conrad. He no longer needed Conrad to adore him. He had someone else.Did he?It made sense. Conrad had trusted too much.

As the three of them put the wallets on the glass counter, one of the assistants said, “There’s one missing.”

“Has it slipped under somewhere?” Conrad bent to look but there were no more wallets on the floor.

“You and your friend…” the other assistant said.

The accusatory stare said everything. Thatwasa message Conrad picked up loud and clear, despite his blindness as far as his relationship went. Had Mark taken it?Of course he fucking has.It wouldn’t be the first time he’d stolen something, but it was the first time Conrad had been with him, and helped him, albeit inadvertently. Usually, it was just Mark bragging to him later about what he’d walked out with.

“We’re calling the police,” the pair said in unison.

Conrad’s life almost ended at that point because he could see where that would lead. The wallet would be long gone by the time the police spoke to Mark and Conrad would get the blame. Though how they’d figure that out when he didn’t have the wallet on his person… Though he did check just in case Mark had slipped it into his pocket. Thank God, he hadn’t.

In the end, they didn’t call the police, although probably not because Conrad paid for the wallet, but more because he was so clearly shocked, that he collapsed and slumped to the floor. No one rushed to see if he was okay. Maybe they thought he was pretending. He wasn’t. Or maybe it was more trouble than it was worth to call the police, or an ambulance, plus they still got commission on the sale. So they took his money and ushered him out of the shop.

No more Mark.

No more Mark.

He was still shaky as he set off back to work, but he kept repeating those words in his head. When a hundred metres down the road, Mark stepped out in front of him, Conrad almost fell over. Except he didn’t, because Mark caught hold of him, dragged him into an alleyway and kissed his socks off. The sort of kiss he used to give Conrad, the sort of kiss that had blinded Conrad to the things he didn’t like about him. Why didn’t that list ofwhy Mark is wrong for mestay in his head at times like this? He could feel Mark’s cock jutting into him.

“I am so hard,” Mark said with a laugh as they broke apart. “We’ll do that again.”

No, they wouldn’t, and they didn’t, but Conrad was still an idiot because the relationship continued, even when Mark kept the cufflinks for himself.

He’d skip three, four, five and six because…Yeah well, I’m an idiot. The evidence is there.

Seventh time

And yes, he was deeply ashamed it had got to that point. Yes, he should haveI’m a gullible fooltattooed on his forehead, along withBut I’m a nice guy. As if that made any difference.

What excuses did he have?I blame my parents.He did, he really did, but it was his own fault that Mark was still in his life.

Conrad was…

Too nice.

Too trusting.

Too amenable.

Too desperate.

Too forgiving.

Too unwilling to accept he’d made a mistake and that Mark wasn’t Mr Right, wasn’t even Mr Nearly Right, in fact was Mr Completely and Utterly Wrong.

Conrad wasn’t happy, Mark was oblivious and thought everyone loved him, but had stopped bothering about whether or not Conrad loved him, or even liked him. Mark took him for granted. Conrad had still been making excuses for the guy because…No one is ever going to want a pathetic thing like me.But no amount of self-flagellation seemed to drive any sense into Conrad’s head.

This time, which was lucky number seven, though he hadn’t thought it at the time, Conrad hadn’t seen it coming. Though to be fair, had he ever? He should have done, but that was a different story.

He and Mark had been getting on well. Mark had asked him to move in… Cue moment of complete shock and joy! And the joy had continued even though the bills had turned out to be a lot more than Conrad had expected,andMark had wanted three months’ rent in advance. The flat was far better than any Conrad would have been able to afford now or in the foreseeable future and every time he walked into it, he almost had to pinch himself that he lived there.

It was in Wapping, in a block overlooking the Thames and had a balcony where they sat and ate breakfast, and had a drink in the evening on those increasingly rare occasions when they were both home at the same time. He and Mark might work at the same finance company but Mark was in BD, Business Development, and had do a lot of schmoozing. Conrad was just a number cruncher. So he got the need for Mark to be out at Ascot and Henley and Formula One and polo and golf days with clients— two, three and four days a week. Weekends included.

But Conrad was lonely.

Still, being lonely in a building that had a gym and decent-sized swimming pool in the basement wasn’t so bad. The pool was where Conrad intended to go this evening and unwind. If Mark hadn’t eaten by the time he got back from wherever he’d been that day, they could order a pizza. If he wasn’t in, and not due back, Conrad would order one anyway. Conrad had been to Manchester on business and wasn’t due home until the next day, but the work was finished so he’d changed his train and maybe he’d surprise Mark.

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