|
Identity Check Chapter 30 |
|
Just as he had a year ago, Patrick walked up the path to the door of the Newcastle house. Back then, he'd been looking for shelter. This time he only wanted to connect with Nick and Colin again. When he pressed the bell, it occurred to him that since it was only just after lunch and a Friday, they probably weren't even there. Maybe he should go and find himself a hotel room and come back later. But he had other plans for this evening. . . The door opened, so someone was home. Patrick stared. "Terry?" Terry stared back at him, and then grinned. "You escaped!" "I left. What the hell are you doing here?" "Well, the guys had a spare room and they said I could have it. Oh, that was your room, right?" Patrick rolled his eyes. "It was." But he didn't mind. He'd expected they'd have a new roommate; he just hadn't expected it to be Terry. "Can I come in?" "Yeah, of course. Sorry, come on in. I'll put the kettle on." Patrick heaved his gear inside and followed Terry through into the kitchen. "So, you followed the guys home and they let you stay?" "Something like that," Terry said. "I've got a job in the coffee shop up the road. And I joined a running club." "That's great, Terry. I'm glad you've found your feet." And got them well under the table by the sound of it. "So what gives? Powell chuck you out? Or did you go over the wall?" "Let's say it was a mutual decision that it was time for me to leave." "So he chucked you out." Terry smirked. "Who did you shag?" "Terry! It wasn't anything like that. You've got a one track mind." "I'm a monorail, baby." He made two mugs of tea and sat at the table with Patrick. "It's been great here. Nick and Colin are sweethearts. Though I think I shock them sometimes." "I can believe that. Are you getting out much, you know, on the scene?" "Are you kidding? You know all the stuff I said I hadn't done. . . well I've done all that and more now!" "Christ, Terry, you shock me, never mind the straights." He shook his head and drank some of his tea. "I'm seeing Russ." Patrick choked on the tea, and coughed for a full minute before he could speak again. "Seeing Russ? You mean, actually having a relationship with him?" Terry grinned. "I'm his boyfriend." "That's more than I ever got to say." He frowned. Terry might be gaining a lot of experience very fast, but he was still a kid. "I'm glad for you, but be careful. Russ isn't big on commitment." "I know. But I've got him wrapped around this." He wiggled his little finger. If even Russ was settling down then what the heck was the world coming to? But it raised a question that had been preying on Patrick's mind all the way here. "Do you happen to know if Phil is seeing anyone right now?" Terry's expression took on an unfamiliar seriousness. "No. Not that I know of. You're thinking of making a move on him?" "I've been doing a lot of thinking," Patrick said. "Since the guys all came to see me." "Since Phil kissed you." "Yes." "Must be a hell of a kisser." Oh yes, indeed. "I'm amazed you don't know that first hand yet." "There's only so many men I can kiss. Some have to wait their turn. But if you're after him, I won't tread on your toes." After him? What a strange way to think of it. Phil had laid his heart at Patrick's feet. Patrick had come to pick it up. Did that count as being after him? Phil. A man Patrick had forgotten to notice. A man who'd risked public rejection, when he'd kissed Patrick at the retreat. Something he hadn't even done for his own sake, but for Patrick's. To wake him up. It took courage to do that and Phil had that courage. Phil was worth taking a chance on. The tiniest of doubts remained, that Phil could have told David about the weekend Patrick spent with Simon. But Patrick thought he could get over that, if it turned out to be true. He was sure he could. 99% sure. "Hey, there's a bunch of post for you here," Terry said, jumping up and grabbing a bundle of letters from the top of a cupboard. He handed them to Patrick. "I've got to go to work. You want to hang out here until Nick and Colin come home from uni?" "That would be great. I could use a nap." "Well, feel free. I'll be back about seven-thirty, and I'll be off out to meet the guys. You want to come with me?" Was a noisy bar the place to see Phil again after all this time? Perhaps - because Patrick had a dramatic gesture to return. "You bet I do." "Great! I won't tip anyone off that you're back. Don't want to miss the looks on their faces." He swallowed the last of his tea and dumped the mug in the sink. "Okay, I'm off to work. See you later." He breezed out of the room and the front door slammed. Patrick shook his head at the sudden quiet. As if a tornado had just passed over and gone, leaving eerie silence in its wake. Terry was a whirlwind. Taking his time, he drank the rest of his tea, just enjoying sitting in this kitchen again. There was his coffee maker. The carafe and filter sat on the draining board, so it wasn't gathering dust. He had no intention of trying to claim it back. Would leave it here as a thank you to his friends who'd given him so much support over the last year. He'd worried for a time, after he left, that they wouldn't forgive him for running out on them, for not trusting them to help him. Then they'd shown up at the retreat, ready to take him home. Had to love them for that. His tea finished, he washed the mugs and took his letters into the living room. A huge yawn almost made him decide to leave them until after he had a nap for a couple of hours, his early start catching up with him. But a quick flick through found a couple of intriguing ones and he decided to check those out first. One especially interested him. The date on the postmark showed it had come only a couple of days after he left. The name and address were printed on a plain white envelope, stamped, not franked, with no indication of the sender. Inside, he found a single sheet of white office paper, printed with a letter.
That was it. No logo. No signature. Not even a nicely dramatic "A friend." But this mysterious letter writer certainly counted as one. My god, a detective agency! Patrick hadn't even considered that. It seemed absurd. The idea that detectives agencies even existed seemed too much like fiction. And yet that's exactly what David had done. That's how he found out about Simon and that Easter weekend. Phil didn't tell him. Of course Phil didn't tell him! That last tiny percentage point of doubt vanished and Patrick fell back on the sofa laughing. David, you flaming loon, you hired a damn detective to spy on me! Bless your crazy heart, you maniac. It wasn't Phil! His joy about that made the situation with David so ridiculous as to be funny. Any fear vanished in that moment. Perhaps he should be more afraid of David now, after hearing this evidence of his paranoia, but no. The man was pathetic, that's all. Pathetic and insecure enough to have his lover followed. Ridiculous. That weight gone from his mind, and all the various other ones not enough to keep him awake, Patrick fell asleep, curled on the sofa. * "Bloody hell!" At least Sleeping Beauty got a kiss. Patrick got Colin and Nick staring down at him, and Colin's "Bloody hell!" to wake him. But, it made him smile anyway. Good old Colin, with his selective memory, and his eBay and his home-made wine. And Nick. Friend. Family. God, it was good to see them. "Oh, hi," he said, rubbing his eyes as he stood up. "Wow, I just had this weird dream that I spent the whole summer at some place in the country with a priest and a couple of nuns." They went on gaping at him. "Er, that was what's technically known as a joke. Do you need me to explain the concept in more detail?" That broke the spell which held them staring at him and they all hugged, with much backslapping. "How'd you get in?" Colin said. "You left your keys behind." "Terry was here." "He told you he has your room now?" Nick said. He winced. "I told him it was temporary. That if you came back. . ." "No, that's okay. I'm going to find my own place. I don't expect you to throw the puppy out into the snow." "Puppy?" Nick chuckled. "Yeah, he's got some of that. Reminds me of you a bit." "And Nick's been just as protective of him," Colin said. "He warned Russ off! That was a scene!" "I didn't warn him off," Nick protested. "I just thought Terry needed to be a bit cautious around him." Nick knew about that night Russ had been up in Patrick's bedroom supposedly comforting him when he was upset, but taking the opportunity for more. Had that coloured his view of a man who'd been his friend before? "Terry said he's seeing Russ, so I suppose that means it didn't take." But he didn't want to talk about Russ and Terry. He wanted to hear all the news, all the stuff he hadn't had a chance to catch up on when they came to rescue him. "Come on, guys, let's get some food and talk. I'm sure you've got plenty to tell me. I've got plenty to tell you." "I just want to know one thing," Nick said. "That you're still you." "I'm still me," Patrick said, but Nick's expression stayed doubtful. "Do you want me to kiss you to convince you?" "Certainly not! We're first cousins! Kiss Colin instead." "Hey!" Colin protested, backing off a step. But then he shook his head and chuckled. "That ship already sailed." Nick stared. "It what?" "Like I said," Patrick said. "Plenty to tell each other." * Patrick and Terry walked out of the Metro station and headed for the Triangle. As they reached the familiar bars Terry greeted just as many people on the street as Patrick did. Perhaps more. Had Terry deposed him as the new prince of the Triangle? You'd think so, going by his easy stride and relaxed smile. The kid was a natural. He'd found his home here, as Patrick once thought he had. "They're in this one," Terry said, leading him into a bar, greeting the doormen by name. "I texted Russ. I didn't tell him I've got you with me, though." "Good." Still early in the evening and the bar was busy, but not packed. A couple of steps led down to the main floor, letting them spot the group, standing by a pillar. Russ spotted them first, raising a hand and smiling as he saw Terry, but losing the smile, his hand freezing in place, when he saw Patrick at Terry's side. He stared and then took the shoulder of the taller man standing in front of him, turning him around and pointing. Phil. Dressed simply, in white t-shirt and cargo pants. His rangy figure took Patrick's eye more than it had before. His broad shoulders and long legs had a new appeal. Phil stared. "Come on." Terry grabbed Patrick's arm and hustled him down the stairs. The two of them weaved across the floor to their friends. Patrick's heart pounded, his mouth going dry. This was it. The big gesture, the reply to what Phil did at the retreat. And then. . . Then the future started. If Powell was here now, if he asked that question now, "do you love Phil?" he'd still answer "I don't know." But he wanted to start finding out. He stopped with a gasp as they reached the group. Phil stood waiting for him, eyes wide. Russ stood beside Phil, until Terry grabbed him and swung him away for a kiss that looked more appropriate for a man returning from a long war than saying a quick "hi". Patrick stepped closer to Phil, close enough to speak to him over the noise of the music and the crowd. "I owe you
something. I came to repay my debt." He slid his arms around Phil's waist, pulling him closer, but Phil grabbed his wrists and pushed him away, making Patrick stumble back. He stared at Phil, to see not joy as he'd hoped, but pain and rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Phil yelled. What the hell? He thought he was doing what Phil wanted him to do. What he'd said that he still wanted. "Phil. . . I don't. . . Have you got someone else?" "Fuck you, Patrick!" Phil shoved past him and strode towards the door. "Phil!" Patrick stared and moved to go after him, but someone grabbed his arm. Russ, who glared with a dark fury. "Leave him alone." "Russ, I don't understand. Does he have someone else?" "You arrogant bastard! Did you think that you could waltz in here and he'd drop to his knees for you? You broke his heart, Patrick. Stay away from him and maybe he'll get over that one day." Russ let go and ran after Phil. Patrick wanted to follow, but was paralysed, still unable to believe it. Movement at his side made him turn to see Terry, looking equally baffled. "Maybe we should go out and come in again," Terry suggested. "I. . . I think I'm just going to go home," Patrick said, glancing at the others in the group, who didn't look as if they wanted to give him a warm welcome back. "I think I need to figure out what the hell just happened." "Okay," Terry said. "Well, good luck with that. I'll see you later. If Russ doesn't come back anyway." He turned back to the group, shrugging off the drama as if it had been a scene he'd watched on TV. Patrick couldn't do so as easily. He left the bar and realised he couldn't go back to the house, as Colin and Nick were out somewhere too, and he had no keys to get in. He could go back and borrow Terry's, but had no heart to go back in there. As he walked, he watched out for Phil and Russ, but didn't spot them. Though he had no destination in his conscious mind, perhaps his subconscious had other ideas. It led him to the 7th Circle and he stood in front of the door looking up at the sign. "Evening, Pat," one of the bouncers said, giving him a smile. "Back home, eh?" Patrick nodded. "Yes." But for how long? He'd come back because of Phil. If Phil didn't want him, then why was he here? "Come to get your old job back?" the bouncer asked. "What? Oh, no. Just. . . is Ray in?" "Yeah, he's in." Five minutes later, Patrick was backstage. As usual, Ray's door stood open, and the man himself sat behind his desk, working on his computer. Patrick tapped on the door and enjoyed Ray's stare of amazement. "Can I put in a request for the DJ to play 'The Boys are Back in Town'?" Two minutes after that, Patrick had a glass of Glenlivet in his hand and was perched on the edge of Ray's desk. Just like the old days. But you could never go back. It would never be like the old days again. Especially if Phil couldn't even be his friend never mind anything else. "So, you escaped the clutches of the Jesuits with your soul intact?" "Just about." "And are you after your old job here?" Patrick shrugged. Thinking about anything else but what happened in that bar seemed impossible. "I'm not sure I'm going to be sticking around. I thought. . . I thought I had something to come back to. Someone. Turns out I'm wrong and I don't even understand why." His voice caught in his throat, his eyes grew hot and he sipped the whisky to cover the distress that swept over him suddenly. Ray looked at him, then stood up and closed the door. "Tell me," he said quietly. "Phil. It's Phil. He used to have feelings for me. Said he loved me." "That kiss at the retreat." "Yeah. I thought that meant he still did. And then, I found him tonight and I, well, returned the favour and he pushed me away." "You just walked in and kissed him?" Ray sipped from his glass and shook his head. "Well, you probably gave him a shock." "No, it wasn't that. He was angry. He was furious with me! I don't understand why. I thought I'd started to figure things out. Understand people. But I still don't know a damn thing, do I?" "Patrick, how did you feel when Simon walked back into your life and expected to pick up where he left off?" Patrick froze. My god. No wonder Phil pushed him away and swore at him. Hadn't Patrick done exactly that to Simon? And yet he'd walked into that bar full of the same cockiness, assuming Phil would welcome him with open – grateful – arms. "Ray, do you still have a gun? Because someone needs to just shoot me – clearly I'm too stupid to live." "The Army makes you give your gun back when you leave," Ray said looking amused. He came over and to Patrick's surprise, gave him a quick hug. "You're not stupid, Patrick, you're just young." He let go, stepped away. "I'm glad to see you. If you want to come back here, I'll find you a place." "God, Ray, I just left with no notice. I don't deserve it." "Don't be daft. You think dancers, barmen and bouncers always work their notice?" He grinned. "This isn't an office, kid. This is show business." That made Patrick crack a smile at last, he even let out a quick laugh. "Now, you look exhausted," Ray said. "So what I suggest is, you go and sleep on this, and tomorrow, you find Phil and you talk to him. Forget your dramatic gestures. Just talk. "
|
© E Charles 2009