Hard Tail (13 page)

Why the hell did the first bloke I seriously thought might be worth coming out of the closet for have to be unavailable?

Maybe Steve would meet an untimely end, I mused hopefully. Trampled to death by a herd of rampaging New Forest ponies, perhaps. Or gorged to extinction on a surfeit of Matt’s gourmet cooking. Perhaps not that—I wouldn’t want Matt feeling guilty about it. I sighed and speared a prawn with my fork, wishing it was Steve’s body I was impaling on those stainless steel tines… God, what was I thinking? If I really cared about Matt, I wouldn’t want him to be unhappy. And I was fairly sure that mourning the untimely death of a live-in lover was likely to be a bit of a downer, at least for a day or two.

Maybe…maybe I should just go for it? Coming out, I meant, not jumping on Matt (
down boy!
I told my libido sternly). Maybe I’d find a bloke who could stop me fixating on Matt. Someone like… I searched my mind for gay men I knew. All I could come up with was a mental image of Adam. He looked even more ape-like in my imagination. At least, I was fairly sure his knuckles didn’t
really
scrape the floor as he walked. Yeah, right. Me and Adam. Like that was ever going to happen.

But someone else, maybe? The trouble was, coming out as gay—or even bi; I’d been married to a woman so I could probably pull that one off—was so bloody
final
. A huge, irreversible step: a Rubicon for our times. I couldn’t escape the thought that Caesar’s crossing of that little dried-up river had technically involved a death sentence. If I couldn’t have Matt, was it really worth taking all the risks involved? Worth upsetting my family for, and probably mortifying Kate?

By the time I’d finished my lunch, barely restraining myself from licking the plastic tub clean—it was that good—I still hadn’t reached a conclusion, and my head was starting to ache. I was glad when the bell jangled, relieving me from having to think about it anymore—although as it was Matt returning from his lunch break, my thoughts weren’t any less confused.

“Had a good break?” I asked, peering at him. “You know, I’d swear you’re browner than when you went out. Or you’ve picked up a few more freckles or something.”

He grinned, adding dimples to the already scarily adorable mix. “Yeah, I’ve been out in the park behind the library. Found a quiet corner and took my shirt off. Got to take any chance you can to get a tan in this country.”

I swallowed. My mind conjured up an image of a half-naked Matt that was so detailed another part of me clamoured to give it a standing ovation.

“You know, you should get out sometime,” Matt continued, oblivious to my piquant discomfort. “Not tomorrow, obviously, as it’s half day—but Thursday maybe? If it’s nice, I mean. I could easily mind the shop for you.”

“I’m not sure the people of Totton want to be treated to the sight of me with my shirt off in the park,” I said drily.

Matt laughed. “Why not? I mean, I wouldn’t mind—” He broke off abruptly, probably at the look on my face. “Sorry. That was…sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be out back.”

I stared after him. Had he meant what I thought he’d meant?

He couldn’t have…could he? I looked down at my skinny chest. Underneath my shirt, it was the sort of luminous white the makers of biological washing powders could only dream of.

Matt had probably just meant he could do with a good laugh.

The two men who walked in the door half an hour later were an unlikely pair of friends, I thought. One of them was a bit on the tubby side, wearing glasses and a nervous smile that peeked through his scruffy beard. The other—well, the only reason I could think of for him hanging around with The Beard was to make himself look better by comparison. Except he really didn’t need to. He was younger than the other guy; hotter, blonder—well, think of any positive descriptive term you can, and add “er” and you’ve got the general idea. If he wasn’t a model, he ought to be. The only thing I didn’t like about him so much was his eyes—they were quick, sharp and icy cold. They made a brief pass over me, then turned back to the bikes, obviously not finding me worth lingering over.

Feeling I needed to be more proactive in the business, I came out from behind the desk. “Anything I can help you with?” I asked. With a bit of luck, they’d just want a pump adaptor. I could manage that, no problem. Hell, if I put my mind to it, I could probably manage to sell them the whole pump.

The good-looking one turned. “You’re not Jay,” Blondie commented with a business-like smile and a raised eyebrow. If I wasn’t mistaken, it held a hint of a challenge.

“Oh—no, are you friends of his? I’m Tim. His brother.” I held out my hand, and Blondie shook it firmly. “I’m looking after the shop while he’s in hospital—he broke his leg,” I explained at Blondie’s sharp, interrogatory glance.

“Sorry to hear that—is it a bad break?”

“Pretty bad, as they go. I’ll be down here for a few weeks at least.”

“You’re not from around here?”

“No—London. Mill Hill, actually.” I felt like I was being interviewed and rushed to get a question of my own in. “You’re locals?”

“We live in Southampton. I’m Luke, by the way. And this is Russell.” He turned to indicate The Beard, and his whole manner altered. The hardness disappeared from his eyes, and his smile grew warmer.

“Hi.” Russell leaned past Luke to offer me his hand. “Luke’s persuaded me to try cycling—I think he’s trying to get me fit or something.”

“Get out of it!” Luke gave Russell an affectionate shove. “I want you to try it because I think you’ll enjoy it, that’s all. You’re fine—you don’t need to worry about getting fit.” His gaze lingered over Russell in a way totally unlike the brusque, calculating glance he’d given me—and Russell’s response was a shy smile and a long look down at his surprisingly nice shoes. I strongly suspected Blondie’s influence there, seeing as the rest of him was clad in M&S jeans and a hand-knitted sweater.

Finally putting it all together, I stared in shock. Were they…? Could they really be…? I blinked as Luke grabbed Russell’s arm to drag him over to look at one of the higher-end mountain bikes. They were certainly acting like a couple. “I’ll get Matt,” I blurted out.

It wasn’t the
gay
thing, honest. I just knew they’d need some specialist advice, that’s all. Matt came out wiping his hands on a greasy rag and gave the Odd Couple a friendly smile. “Oh, hi, Luke. You all right?”

“Better than you are, by the looks of things,” Luke said with a pointed glance at Matt’s lip.

“Oh, that—hit a low branch out in the forest, that’s all,” Matt told his trainers with one of his sudden bouts of shyness.

Luke didn’t say anything, but he gave Matt a sharp look before flicking his gaze to me. Not having a bloody clue what he was after, I gave him a weak smile.

It wasn’t returned. Apparently, whatever Luke had wanted, I’d failed to provide it.

“You know, you never mentioned this mountain biking was dangerous,” Russell said with what was probably meant to be a mock frown, but which unfortunately got lost in the beard.

“Nah, it’s just me—I’m a total klutz,” Matt said. “So you managed to talk him into it, did you?” he asked, turning to Luke.

Luke waggled an eyebrow as he flashed Matt a brief but blinding smile. “You know me. I’ve got my methods.”

Matt blushed, just in case any straight people in the vicinity hadn’t caught on to exactly what sort of methods he was referring to. I felt like I’d walked into an episode of
Queer as Folk
. Blondie was probably thoroughly enjoying making a heterosexual feel like a minority, I thought. Not that there were, actually, any heterosexuals in the vicinity, but his gaydar obviously wasn’t as finely honed as Pit-bull Pritchard’s.

It was probably still streets ahead of mine, though.

I retreated behind the counter and watched grumpily as Matt pulled out one bike after another for Russell to look at, sit on and listen to Luke and Matt arguing technical details about. Around halfway through, Russell turned to catch my eye with an expression that said clear as day he didn’t have a bloody clue what they were on about either, which made me feel a bit better.

“Have you, er, been together long?” I asked Russell when he was finally allowed up to the counter with his credit card, Luke and Matt still debating the merits of full suspension bikes versus hard tails. (Luke was a full susser fan. I wasn’t surprised.) Russell smiled, his beard creasing up at the corners of his mouth. I thought I’d probably like Russell, if we met socially. “Nearly a year now,” he said happily. “Amazing, isn’t it? Don’t know what he sees in me.”

There are times when honesty is the only way to go. And this was quite clearly not one of them. On the other hand, there was no way I was about to start complimenting men on their appearance, whether I meant it or not. “I’m sure he’s in no doubt,” I hedged in the end.

Russell put his card away while I bagged up the helmet, lights and other bits and pieces Matt had managed to flog him. Luke and Matt were still deep in conversation down the front of the shop, although at a lower volume now so I couldn’t hear what they were talking about anymore. “Is it difficult?” I blurted out.

“Having a good-looking boyfriend, you mean?” Russell asked.

“Having a boyfriend,” I clarified quietly, one eye still on the other two. Luke seemed to be giving Matt a hard time about something.

Russell looked thoughtful. “I suppose I’ve always been lucky, really,” he said. “I never had any trouble with my family—think they were just glad I’d finally found someone.” His beard twitched as he smiled. “Luke’s had a bit of a hard time of it, though. He’s a journalist—it’s a bit of a macho culture. Sometimes he gets…comments. But his dad’s speaking to him again now.”

“But it’s worth it?” I persisted.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” Russell’s gaze rested on Luke as he spoke, and there was so much affection in his tone I felt faintly embarrassed, like I’d walked in on them snogging on the sofa. “You’re, um, not out, then?”

I flushed. I hadn’t realised I’d been quite that obvious. “No.” I cleared my throat. “I’m not.”

“Maybe you should give it a go,” he suggested gently. “While you’re down here, I mean. Do a sort of trial run before you have to go back to London.”

His words sent a thrill of excitement—and trepidation—right through me. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of coming out of the closet on a temporary basis and going straight (hah!) back in if I found the big, wide, gay world didn’t suit. But Russell was right. As long as I was careful, I could try things out here, and no one from my old life in London would ever know. No big coming-out drama; no shame if it all went tits-up. “Is there, er, much of a scene here?” I whispered, my gaze darting in all directions as if I thought there might be customers hiding in every nook and cranny, ready to stand up and denounce me as a closet queer.

Russell looked a bit like my eyes were making him dizzy. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, and you’re asking the wrong bloke, anyway, but there are a few places—”

“Are we done, then?” Luke interrupted, striding up to clap a proprietary hand on Russell’s shoulder.

I spoke up quickly in case Russell hadn’t twigged I really didn’t want to carry on our conversation in front of the other two. “Yes, I think that’s everything.”

Russell got the message. He made a little “let your fingers do the walking” gesture where Luke couldn’t see it before they grabbed his stuff and said good-bye. I decided I liked Russell a lot—in a totally platonic way. “They seem like a nice couple,” I said casually to Matt after the door had finally shut behind them. I thought it might be a good moment to establish my not-your-homophobe credentials.

“Oh—yeah, they are.” Matt seemed a bit distracted, staring out the window as the couple in question disappeared from view.

“What was Luke giving you a hard time about?”

He jumped—just a little, but he definitely jumped. “Nothing! No, it was just…it was nothing. I’d better get back out back. Repairs.” He was definitely avoiding looking me in the eye as he sidled past the bikes and into the back room.

What the hell?

I went straight to the hospital to see Jay after work. He was supposed to have had his surgery today, so I wanted to make sure it had gone okay. “Where’s Mum?” I asked when I got in the door to find Jay, against all probability, on his own.

Then I caught sight of Jay’s leg, resting on the blanket, and forgot I’d even asked. “Bloody hell, Jay! What have they done to you?”

The cast was gone, and his leg had…bits of metal sticking out of it. Shiny silver rods and screws, as if some medical student had been given a Meccano set for his birthday and decided to combine his two loves. The rods disappeared into Jay’s flesh just above his knee. My stomach gave an uneasy lurch. “Is that supposed to be an
improvement
? When you said they were going to put a framework in, I thought you meant, well,
in
.”

Jay gave Frankenstein’s limb a cursory glance. “Yeah, it’s actually feeling a lot better now. I’ve got to be careful not to knock it, though.”

It didn’t look better to me. It looked swollen, painful and frankly nauseating. “Can you walk on it now?”

“Nah. Tomorrow, I’m supposed to start with all that. Be good to get back on my feet.”

I swallowed. “So…will you be coming back to the shop soon?”