Heated Beat 01 - My Mate Jack (MM) (7 page)

Jack chuckled. “Easy. Hold on to me until we get round this corner, and don’t look down.”

As if. Will had made the plane ride over buoyed by a skinful and the tingling anticipation of seeing Jack. Climbing a cliff in the dark was his idea of hell, and Jack was the only soul on earth who could coax him to do it. He held on for dear life as Jack guided them around the uneven cliff, gaze fixed on Jack’s neck, trying to ignore the sound of crumbling rock and the waves crashing somewhere below. “I fucking hate you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Stop whinging.” Jack took another few steps, then let out a breath. “Okay, lean back against the rock. That’s it. Now sit down and open your eyes.”

“They are open.” But as Will followed Jack’s instruction, slid down the bumpy rock to sit on his arse, and looked out over the horizon, he realized how misguided those three little words really were.

Bloody hell
. The view was like nothing Will had ever seen before. The sun was beginning to rise, glittering off the sea, and high up in the cliffs, nestled in a sheltered ledge, watching it all unfold, Will felt like Jack had brought him to the top of the world.

“It looks like Narnia, that bit when they get crowned at the end.”

Jack bumped Will’s shoulder. “I thought that when I first came up here. Made me think of you. Hope you’re not too pissed to make it down without breaking your neck.”

“You won’t let me fall.” Will didn’t want to consider the perilous climb down just yet, but he knew it was true. Jack had always been the one between Will and a hard place. Always.

Jack fell quiet for a while, perhaps watching, amused, as Will stared at the view in wonder. Will stretched his legs out in front of him. The ledge was wide and deep, and despite the height, he felt perfectly safe. Safe enough to slump into Jack and dump his head on his shoulder. Huh. Perhaps he was drunker than he thought.

Jack didn’t seem to notice, and his deep, even breathing was like a metronome until he broke the quiet. “How long have you been with that prat Evan?”

Will reluctantly lifted his head. “Why do you think he’s a prat?”

“Because he talks about you like you’re an idiot.”

“How so?”

“Does it matter?”

Probably not. Will toed off his shoes and set about rolling up his jeans. “I haven’t been seeing him long. A few months, maybe? It’s nothing serious.”

“He told me you were moving in together next year.”

Will pulled a face. “That’s bollocks. I’m renting a house with Suki and the girls. Did he really say that? Bloody hell. He was only supposed to be a fuck buddy.”

Jack chuckled. “Well, you should probably tell him that before he picks out your wedding china.”

“Piss off.” Will thought about shoving Jack, but the drop below put him off, and anyway, it felt good to be teased by Jack again. He’d missed Jack’s gentle ribbing. “I’ll sort him out when we get home. How about you? Sowing your wild oats?”

Jack was silent a moment, engrossed with carving his initials into the stone ledge. “I’ve had some fun. You were right, though. About girls, I mean.”

“Was I?” Will was mystified. When had he ever given Jack advice on girls?

“Yeah.” Jack abandoned his stone sketch and stared out at the sea. “You said it wasn’t the same, and it’s not.”

Oh. Will didn’t know what to say. He watched Jack light a cigarette and waved his proffered pack away. “Gave up. Could only afford roll-ups and they’re minging.”

Jack processed this with an absent nod. He sat back and tilted his face to the sky, leaning on Will the way he used to when he blew smoke to the moon from Will’s bedroom window.

Will leaned back on the cliff wall, half-asleep, and absorbed the warmth of the sun. The air between him and Jack felt heavy and unresolved, but in the heady heat of an early morning, far from home, he couldn’t make himself fret. After all, he’d be home in twenty-four hours, leaving Jack still here, bonking every girl who smiled at him and flashed her boobs, and what the hell was wrong with that?

However Will felt, Jack was just his mate, right?

O
CTOBER
1

02:30 a.m.

Jack:
Hey, goldilocks, long time no speak. Twenty-nine days. That’s gotta be a record, right? Anyway, I know you’re probably out partying with Evan, and I’ve got be quick as I’m pinching the club’s internet, but can you call the number I gave you when you’ve got a minute? I need a favor. Ta.

12:04 p.m.

Will:
FYI: I was out partying, but NOT with EVAN. We split up. And FYI again, I’ve called that bloody number a million times in the past year and IT DOESN’T WORK. If you want to talk to me, you’ll have to call me yourself.

October 5

10:15 p.m.

Jack:
I did call you. No one ever answers the phone in your house. Can’t you get a mobile like the rest of the world? P.S. Sorry about Evan. I thought he was a knobber, but you must’ve liked him to stay with him, so… yeah. Sorry.

October 10

10:30 a.m.

Will:
The rest of the world? Student, remember? I might pick up a pay-as-you-go next month when I get paid, but I doubt it will take international calls without eating my credit, so….

If you want me, you’ll have to sit your arse down and type it out.

October 19

09:15 a.m.

Jack:
That’s all it takes, eh? Coulda told me sooner. All right, all right. I’ll hit you up later when I’ve had some kip.

October 28

11:30 p.m.

Will:
How long are you sleeping for? One hundred years?

November 1

02:30 p.m.

Jack:
Don’t get your knickers in a twist, mate. Okay, Okay, here’s the thing. You know I’ve been mixing my own tracks this year? Well, XS have offered me an album deal… for my own stuff, not just mixing up a compilation. Awesome, right? BUT, I hate their graphics, so I put a clause in my contract that I’d source my own artwork… CD sleeves, web graphics, promo shit. SO, I need a graphic designer to come on board and help me out….

Do you see where I’m going with this?

03:45 p.m.

Will:
I think so, but be clear.

04:23 p.m.

Jack:
Don’t be a twat. Okay, how’s this: WILL YOU DESIGN MY ALBUM COVER PRETTY PLEASE WILL I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER. Clear enough?

04:45 p.m.

Will:
Would’ve been better with some punctuation, but yeah, I’ll give it a go. Maybe I can use it in my finals next year. Do you have something in mind?

05:10 p.m.

Jack: Nah, I trust you. You know what I like. I’ve got a spec brief from XS, though. I’ll post it to you. And don’t rush. They want to see something by January 31, so you have plenty of time.

05:30 p.m.

Will:
Okay. I’ll get something together for you by Christmas then. Are you coming home anytime in December?

06:04 p.m.

Jack:
I’m not booking any gigs Christmas through New Year. My mum said she’d disown me if I didn’t spend a week at home with her. So, yeah… show me what you got then and we’ll figure it out. Gotta run, I’m playing at G-Fest tonight. Love ya

December 2003

Towcester. England.

W
ILL
BIT
down on his bottom lip as he fiddled with the settings on the gradient tool. He was working on a graphic style for Jack’s album sleeve and he’d reached a crucial part. A wrong move now would mean he’d have to start over… again, and he was running out of time for fuckups.

He scrutinized the screen. The effect he’d created was metallic and grungy, perfect for the text he planned to use for Jack’s DJ alias, or so he hoped. He’d designed dozens of CD sleeves over the years, for school and for his own amusement, but this was the first time he’d been paid for his work, and Jack’s record company was paying him a
lot
, enough to pay six months of rent up front, easing the burden of crippling student debt.

At least, they would if Will ever finished the projects
and
they liked them. Two things that still felt totally fucking impossible.

And, of course, Jack had to like it too, which was why, three hours after arriving home, Will sat at his dad’s kitchen table, scrabbling together his project folder, instead of dashing next door to see Jack for the first time in six months.

It
had
to be perfect, dammit.

Will got lost in his work and time got away from him. The sound of his dad’s key in the door took him by surprise a little while later. He checked the time: 7:00 p.m. Oops. He saved his work and put the kettle on. Ned Barter was a creature of habit and liked a cup of strong instant coffee the moment he walked through the door. Will didn’t usually bother to wait on him, but it was Christmas Eve, and his father had been working for the last fourteen hours.

Will set the mug on the table just as his father filled the kitchen doorway.

“You’re back, then,” Ned said.

“Looks that way.” Will had finished uni for the Christmas holidays two weeks ago, but while his housemates had all gone home, he’d stayed in Leeds, working in a call center to make extra cash.

Ned swiped his mug. “Good trip down?”

“On the coach? Yeah, it was bloody lovely, squashed up against some old bloke who hadn’t washed for a week.”

“No need for lip, lad.” Ned grunted and took a swig of his coffee. “I’m going to have a shower. What are you doing later? Want to head down the Lion? I’ll get the first round.”

The only plans Will had involved Jack, but it had been a while since Ned had offered to buy him a drink. Ned was at peace with Will’s sexuality, but there was still a part of him that pegged Will too gay for manly things like father-son pub time.

Will shut his laptop down while Ned stomped off to wash away a day of warehouse grime. He listened to Ned sing Fleetwood Mac, then darted out of the back door to catch a few minutes with Jack before Ned came back.

He knocked on the Lawsons’ front door. It took a while, but eventually, Jack’s younger sister cracked it open an inch.

Will smiled. “Hey, Laurie. Is Jack there?”

Laurie peered at him from behind her fringe, face impassive. She was twelve and not quite at the sullen scowling stage of puberty. “Jack’s in Ibiza.”

“I thought he got back on Monday?”

“He did, but he left again yesterday.”

Will felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “He left?”

Laurie shrugged. “Last night. Mum’s cross because he left his presents behind.”

There wasn’t much else to say. Will drifted home, his mind in bits. Jack’s e-mails had become sporadic again over the past few weeks, but Will had assumed he was working a lot to make up for his Christmas break. Will kicked the back door shut. His stomach churned. Why would Jack change his plans? And why the fuck wouldn’t he tell Will? Sacking him off was one thing, Will could handle that, but the silence? Yeah. That fucking hurt.