Heated Beat 01 - My Mate Jack (MM) (8 page)

Ned appeared in the kitchen, dressed in jeans that could’ve done with another turn in the washing machine. “What’s up with you? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Will huffed and retrieved the keys from the backdoor. “Nothing. Are you ready?”

They sloped into town and took up residence at the bar in the local pub. Ned seemed pretty much molded to the stool by the dartboard, and Will wondered how often he came down here now Will was away for most of the year. They’d lived in the same house for eighteen years, and there were days when they exchanged only grunts, but Will knew Ned looked into his room every night—or morning, depending on when he came home from work—and checked he was safe, even if he was sharing his bed with Jack.

Jack
. Will’s spirits sank again. Until he’d knocked on Jack’s door, he hadn’t realized how much he’d invested in spending Christmas with Jack.
Pathetic much
?

Ned bought another couple of pints. He slid one to Will. “All right. I’ve had enough of the sulking. Spit it out, lad. Something going tits up in Leeds?”

“Leeds is fine, Dad. You’d know that if you ever came up to see me.”

“And when do you expect me to do that, eh? In between night shifts? Besides, I reckoned you’d want to forge your own way up there, away from your old dad.”

Will traced the rim of his frothy glass with his fingertip. “My own way? You think I didn’t live my own life down here?”

Ned shrugged. “I didn’t give you much choice. With your ma gone, I’ve had to trust you to look after yourself, but I know there’s not much around here for, um, blokes like you.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Dad. Just call me gay. It’s not catching.”

Ned bristled. “Hey, now. Don’t give me grief about that. I do my best. Your granddad would’ve had me by the balls if I’d come home and told him I was a poof.”

“
Dad
.” Will glanced around, but no one was looking their way. Besides, everyone knew Will was gay. “No one says poof anymore. It’s fucking offensive.”

“I know.” Ned eyed Will. “That’s why I only say it when I’m talking about your granddad. You think I didn’t give myself a crash course in the lingo when you first attached yourself to that boy next door?”

“What? Jack? Piss off, Dad. You know he’s not gay.”

Ned caught the barmaid’s attention and bought a scotch. “Whatever. I reckon I knew which way you swung before you did, so I got meself down the library and read some books. Probably all outdated now, but I think I did all right, so stop giving me stick.”

Will watched Ned nurse his scotch, swirling the amber liquid in the glass until it became a glowing prism in the light of the pub’s open log fire. Books? Ned? Really? “You never told me that.”

“Never saw the need. You seemed to have it all sorted, but you look depressed today. If Leeds is fine, what’s put that scowl on your face? Trouble in your, er, love life? What happened to that Ewan boy you brought back in the summer?”

Will sighed. “Evan, Dad. His name was Evan, and I know you didn’t like him, so don’t pretend any different.”

Ned had the grace to nod. “I’m never going to like a bloke who walks into my house and tells me it ain’t worth insuring.”

“That’s not what he meant,” Will protested, though he knew there was little point. He and Evan had parted ways amicably after Will had come to realize the only place their personalities didn’t clash was in bed—and even then it felt tenuous—but he didn’t miss him. Not in the slightest. Never gave him a thought.

No, because you only think of Jack, don’t you
?
Awake. Asleep. In bed with someone else. He’s always on your mind
.

Evan was a dick in many ways, but he’d been right about that.

With considerable effort, Will pulled his thoughts from Jack and made an attempt to spend a cheery Christmas Eve with his dad. And it worked, for a while. Watching Ned work the dartboard like a pro and flirt with the barmaid was a sight for sore eyes, and Will realized how much he’d missed his dad’s unobtrusive company.

It didn’t last, though. Around eleven, the barmaid rang the bell for last orders and Will and Ned headed home.

Will walked with his head down, hiding from the drizzle and gloom of the damp December night, his mind a mile ahead of him, staring into the empty bedroom at the back of Jack’s house. It had been more than a year since Will had slept with Jack—in any context—but the thought of heading home to his own empty childhood bed felt like the worst thing in the world. And what about the album sleeve? Was Jack’s absence deliberate? Was he trying to tell Will something? Perhaps the record company had come to their senses and refused to pay an untried student a small fortune to do a job a professional could do much better.

Ned slung his arm around Will’s shoulders. “Want a fag?”

“Gave up, Dad.”

“Good for you.” Ned shook out his cigarettes and lit up. “Never liked you smoking. Reminded me of all the shit I’d done wrong.”

“Then you should’ve stopped me.” Will kicked at an empty crisp packet. “I probably only did it to get your attention.”

“That right?”

Will shrugged. “Maybe. Jack’s dad grounded him for a week when he caught us. You never said a bloody word.”

“Didn’t see the point. You knew it was wrong. What good would grounding you do? And I was never around to keep you in anyway.”

Ned had a point, and sniping at him for his well-meant wisdom didn’t make Will feel any better. They turned onto their street. Will pulled the back door keys from his pocket. “You’re right. I’m sorry….”

He caught sight of a huddled figure on the doorstep. For a moment he thought it was Jack. His heart leaped. Then the figure rose and pushed his hood back, and Will realized it was George, Jack’s younger brother. “George? You all right, mate—”

“Piss off. I see you still get your nice fucking family Christmas.”

“Eh?” Will frowned, shocked at the venom in George’s tone. “Something wrong?”

George scowled. He was younger than Jack by three years and as highly strung as Jack was laid-back. “You made Jack gay.”

“Excuse me?”

George took a few steps forward and thrust something into Will’s hands. “You made him a faggot. Look. What do you think my dad said when this landed on our doorstep yesterday morning?”

In Will’s peripheral vision, he saw Ned flank him, put his shoulder between him and George, ready to intervene if George came any closer. Will looked down at the crumpled magazine. It was a copy of
Mixmag
, the publication Jack had forbidden Will to buy after they’d put his music in a box he didn’t like. “What the fuck?”

“Open it.” George spat on the ground. “Page thirteen. I’m guessing the bloke Jack’s snogging ain’t you, but I bet you gave him the bloody idea. Fucking faggot.”

“Oi. We’ll have none of that.” Ned stepped in front of Will, blocking George from Will’s view.

But there was no need. Will found the right page in the magazine, and his world narrowed to the tiny, blurred photograph that turned the world upside down.

It was Jack, laid out on one of those stupid bloody couches in Pacha, locked in an embrace with… a motherfucking man.

Beneath the image was some shit about Jack confirming the rumors he swung both ways. Will stared at the words, but couldn’t take them in. What fucking rumors? Jack was straight. He’d always been straight.

Hadn’t he?

Will dropped the magazine. It fell in a puddle by the drain. “That isn’t me. I haven’t seen Jack since July, so I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

He started to walk on, past George and Ned and that damn bloody magazine, but George stopped him with a bitter laugh.

“I know it’s not you, but you’re the only gay boy Jack knows, and my dad says you fucking brainwashed him. Said he went to Ibiza to get away from you, but it was too late.”

Like your manwhore dickhead dad would ever know why Jack went to Ibiza. Like he ever knew anything but which bird he was screwing next
. The retort was on the tip of Will’s tongue, but he bit it back. Whatever was going on, George was old enough to figure his father’s shortcomings for himself.

Will closed his eyes briefly. “Listen, I don’t have a clue who your brother is doing what with, or why. If you want to know, you should probably ask him.”

Will walked into the house and let the door slam shut behind him. He walked to the fridge. Opened it. Shut it. Opened it again and stared at the bare shelves. They were spending Christmas Day with Ned’s sister so there’d been no need to stock up on anything more than beer and milk.

The back door opened and shut. Ned. Will let the fridge close, killing its glimmer of light, but he didn’t turn around until he felt Ned’s hand on his shoulder.

“Sit down, lad. I’ll put the kettle on.”

Will sat. Ned was the kind of bloke you didn’t ignore, even when that stupid bloody magazine, wet from the puddle, was laid out on the kitchen table. Ned plonked down two mugs of tea. He picked up the magazine. Flipped it over so the offending photo was all Will could see.

“George said he gets this so he can follow Jack, know where he’s playing and whatnot. Reckons Jack calls home less than you do.”

Neither statement surprised Will. George had always idolized Jack. What brother wouldn’t? Strong, handsome, sporty, and musical, Jack had it all. And Jack never called home because he didn’t want to hear his mum witter about how hard his dad was working on his millionth business trip of the month.

Will sighed. “Jack’s been really busy lately, but I didn’t know anything about this, I swear.”

“I believe you,” Ned said. “Even if I didn’t, your face don’t lie. Never could. Feel sorry for that boy out there, though. He reckons Jack and his old man had words last night. Woke up this morning and Jack was gone. Sounds rough. Think George was more excited ’bout having his big brother home for Christmas than he wanted to let on.”

Will drew his tea close, wrapped his hands around the mug, and tried to let the warmth back into his heart. He felt bad for Jack, George, and the rest of their family. If Jack was hiding something, none of them deserved for it to come out this way, but beneath that, anger crept through Will like cold, sludgy poison that swallowed every moment of joy and happiness he’d ever spent with Jack.

Jack had kissed a man who wasn’t Will, and no amount of tea and sympathy would ever ease the pain in Will’s chest.

D
ECEMBER
26

10:34 a.m.

Will:
Did you make it back okay?

December 27

11:15 p.m.

Will:
Jack? You there? Come on, mate. Don’t blank me now. My dad bought me a phone for Christmas. The number is at the top of my e-mail account page. Call me. Or send me one of those text things.

December 28

07:05 a
.m.

Will: JACK….

2004

January 1

09:47 a.m.

Jack:
Sorry, mate. Haven’t turned the computer on for a week. Dodging the hate mail from my dad. Sorry I missed you at Christmas. Things got a bit lairy. How are you?

09:59 a.m.

Will:
That’s it? Are you taking the piss? What the fuck happened?

January 2

08:15 a.m.

Jack:
You know what happed. George told your dad.

08:23 a.m.

Will:
I want you to tell me.

January 4

08:34 a.m.

Jack:
Tell you what? That I got off with a bloke? Chill your beans, mate. It wasn’t a big deal. I was trashed, and it felt right at the time. Can’t believe the cameras caught me. They never take pictures in that room.

08:56 a.m.

Will:
That’s it? Fuck’s sake, Jack.

January 6

09:05 a.m.

Jack:
What?

January 9

11:10 p.m.

Jack:
Helloooo? Answer your phone.

January 12

08:48 a.m.