Men of London 06 - Flying Solo (23 page)

“How’s the new job going?” Jack asked with a squint. “Gibson says you’re enjoying it.”

Maxwell nodded. “It’s great. Hard work, and sometimes the early morning shifts piss me off, but at least I’m home much more and we can organise a weekend together now, or time away. It was a good move.”

“Good stuff, sport. Glad it all worked out for you.” Jack glanced at his watch. “I need to go meet Beth. She’s got drinks with her work colleagues and I’m meeting up with her at the pub. Tell Gibson I said goodbye and I’ll be home later. If not, I’ll text him.”

Maxwell nodded. “Will do. Tell Beth I said hi and have a good time.”

Jack grinned. “Yes, spending the evening with a bunch of dentists and dental nurses sounds like a dream come true. Hopefully Beth still has her uniform on. I love seeing her like that.” He snickered dirtily.

Maxwell chuckled. “Go get ’em, Tiger. I like a man in uniform myself.”

“Yummy, so do I.” Gibson wandered through then, flashing a wicked smile at Maxwell. “In fact, baby, perhaps you can put on your old crew uniform and we can do a bit of role play, give Jack some ideas for what he can do with Beth?”

Jack’s jaw dropped.

Gibson continued with a sultry look at Maxwell, whose trousers grew tighter with every word Gibson uttered. “I’m thinking bad-tempered passenger on a flight who needs to be given a little slapping to discipline him. Or maybe a big bad flight attendant who’s in need of an attitude adjustment…” He struck a pose, pointing at Maxwell dramatically. “On your knees, boy and suck my dick!”

Jack’s face was pink. Maxwell was amazed; Jack was so put together in most ways, but mention sex—especially gay sex—and he was reduced to a blushing adolescent. Maxwell took pity on the flustered Jack.

“Yeah, Gibson, I don’t think that’s helping. Stop teasing him.”

Jack glowered at Gibson and shot a thankful glance at Maxwell. “What he said. I’m off. I’ll let you know whether I come home or stay over at Beth’s. See you guys later.” He disappeared then returned a few seconds later with a mutter to pick up the bag he’d left in his hasty departure.

Maxwell shook his head in amusement as he watched Jack scurry out the flat. “You are such a little bitch sometimes. You live to make that man feel uncomfortable, I swear.”

Gibson shrugged and bit into an apple he’d taken from the fruit bowl on the table. “He’s used to it by now. He’s so vanilla and shy about sex. Sometimes I like to shock him.”

“You finished your conversation with Chewy early. Jack said you two would be on the phone for hours.” Maxwell slumped down on the couch and Gibson sat next to him, still munching his apple.

“We got everything sewn up earlier than we thought. I’m seeing him next week at the Con anyway so we can chat then.” He frowned. “And please don’t call Ev
Chewy
when you see him. He has a thing about it. He’s not a fan.”

Maxwell cleared his throat. “You and he had something going then?”

Gibson rolled his eyes. “We were fuck buddies, Max, nothing serious. And he knows I have a serious fellow now so this won’t be another Jamie scenario, I promise.” He moved to straddle Maxwell’s lap and bit off another large piece of apple. His mouth approached Maxwell’s and Maxwell opened obediently as Gibson fed it to him from his mouth. Gibson smiled in approval as he chewed the sweet fruit.

“Good boy,” he crooned. Maxwell shuddered in anticipation as he realised what role play Gibson was acting out. He got his confirmation a minute later when Gibson lifted Maxwell’s shirt over his head.

“Now, sweet slave boy, it’s time to give the master his reward,” Gibson whispered sultrily. As another piece of apple was pushed into his mouth, followed by a wriggle of Gibson’s arse against his cock, Maxwell surrendered.

*****

Wall to wall geek. Maxwell wasn’t sure what the collective noun was for a bunch of them gathered together at a gaming conference, but he thought perhaps a google of geeks might be a good term. Maybe even a nerd herd. He sniggered and Gibson looked over at him through his new thin, sexy, black-framed glasses and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?” Gibson asked with a pout. His eyes darted around the venue like a fish in a bowl. He’d been on tenterhooks about today for the past week, both at seeing Everett and taking part in the convention set in the middle of London on a cold and overcast November day.

“Oh, nothing,” Maxwell said airily. “Checking out the atmosphere, immersing myself in the rush of geekiness flowing towards me.” He flapped a hand, feigning a swoon. “I’m feeling quite faint with it all.”

Gibson scowled but his eyes smiled. “Don’t be a dickhead.”

He looked delectable in dark blue chinos, an open, long-sleeved white shirt with a darker blue string necktie strung loosely around his neck and a brocade waistcoat, in shades of grey and bronze. Maxwell wanted to eat him all up.

Gibson’s brow creased in an adorable frown. “I’m looking for Ev; he said he’d be here by now but I haven’t seen him yet…” His voice trailed off as he peered around the room.

Maxwell sighed. He’d been preparing to meet the man Jack—who’d been with them earlier but disappeared into the crowd—called Chewbacca. Gibson appeared to think of the world of Everett from Canada, and Maxwell wanted to make sure he followed suit. There was a small niggling jot of jealousy lurking in his soul but he’d manfully tried to suppress it.

“I’m sure he’s around, isn’t he, like seven feet tall and hairy? He should be easy to spot…” His own voice tailed off as Gibson’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“You’ve been listening to Jack, haven’t you? I’m going to kill him.”

Maxwell decided wisely to keep quiet and not cast any further aspersions on Everett. He sighed and resigned himself to being dragged through the teeming crowd of men and women all talking about things Max couldn’t even pronounce. He was out of his depth. He was pushed, pulled, jostled and had his feet stood on half a dozen times before Gibson gave a loud, joyful cry and let go of Maxwell to literally jump into the arms of a man standing amongst a group of earnestly gesticulating geeks.

“Ev, I’ve been looking for you everywhere, you bastard. It’s so good to see you.” Gibson’s enthusiastic greeting didn’t escape Maxwell and he noted sourly that ‘Ev’ certainly didn’t seem to mind being mauled by a sexy blond dynamo. He waited patiently though until Gibson had finished hugging and kissing the man on the cheek thankfully and then turned to him, eyes sparkling.

Truth be told, Maxwell was a little disappointed. Jack had built up this picture of—well, a comical, Chewbacca type of character—and Everett Talbot, while hairy, wasn’t true to the image at all. Ev was a six-foot, broad-shouldered, good-looking man of about thirty, with a thick beard, dark, thick, rusty-coloured hair and yes, hairy arms and chest that showed though his polo shirt. It resembled a safari hunter’s lion trophy hanging on a wall.

He was a bear and Maxwell didn’t want to think of his man and this one together because it made him way twitchy.

He smiled politely when Gibson introduced them.

“Ev, this is my boyfriend, Max. He works for London City Airport, but he used to be cabin crew. He gave it up so he could spend more time with me.” He cast an adoring glance at Maxwell who basked in those words. “Max, this is my friend
Everett
.” His tone held a warning and Maxwell gave a little sigh. He’d better not upset the apple cart and call the man Chewy after such an adoring look from his lover. He wanted more of them.

“Hi, Everett, great to meet you.” Maxwell squawked as he held out his hand, expecting it to be shaken and instead found himself with a mouthful of burly chest as Everett hugged him like the proverbial bear.

“Hey, Maxwell, great to meet you at last. I’ve heard so much about you from this little tyke I feel I know you already.” Everett’s voice echoed in Maxwell’s ear as he tried to extricate himself from the vice grip he was encompassed in. Finally breaking free and running a hand over his hair to make sure it was okay, Maxwell nodded.

“Oh, he’s talked about me to you?” His natural sense of smugness lurked close to the surface as he considered the import of those words. “What did he say?”

Everett laughed, a loud belly laugh, and everyone turned around to stare at him, despite the hub of the arena. “God, he doesn’t stop. It’s Max this, Max that. I can’t wait for Max to get home so I can bone him, yada, yada, yada.”

“Really…?” Max drawled, watching Gibson’s face go pink. “How interesting…”

“Yeah, enough bromancing and spilling my secrets, you big hairy bastard.” Gibson punched Everett on the arm but it was like a gnat swatting—well, a bear. Maxwell was still affronted at the fact Gibson got to call Ev something hairy when he’d been warned off it.

Gibson became all bossy, something Maxwell loved to watch. “We’ve got some stuff to talk about, Ev, so maybe we can grab a coffee and find a spot at Coffee Dork, and you can tell me about those improvements you made to the program.”

“Coffee Dork? That’s a real place?” Maxwell said faintly. He was overloaded with nerd-dom and it was starting to hurt. He liked playing games as much as the next man but this was too much.

“It’s a proper franchise, Max,” Gibson said with a long, suffering roll of his eyes. “I’m gonna take Ev over there, we’ll have a quick talk and I’ll come and find you later. Maybe we can meet in a couple of hours over there by the giant locust thingie. I think it’s supposed be Locula, the vampire locust from
Green Scream
.” He waved towards a ceiling-high green monstrosity in one corner with waving antenna and what looked like a sound booth on its back. People were actually climbing rope ladders to get up to it. Maxwell looked at the vampire locust then back at Gibson who stood there, tapping his foot impatiently.

“You call a couple of hours a quick conversation?” Maxwell said in dismay and pique. What the hell was he supposed to do for two hours on his own?

Jack appeared beside him as if by magic, cackled and shoved him in the back. “I told you they talk for ages when they get together. Come on buddy, I’ll look after you. I’ll find you something to occupy your time. Gib, Chew—” Jack bit off the word as Gibson stared daggers at him. “Ev, see you both later.”

Maxwell didn’t even have time to say goodbye before he was hauled for time immemorial through the seething mass of humanity. He finally finished up somewhere he knew he’d like and he wanted to kiss Jack for introducing it to him. The bar was called Pablo’s. Maxwell heaved a sigh of relief when he and Jack found a spare table and chairs and sat down. It was lunchtime after all and Maxwell could do with a beer. Jack winked and went off to order them as Maxwell sat back with a sigh and took out his mobile. He might as well catch up on the world of Twitter and Facebook while he was here.

Three beers and two and a half hours later, and there was still no sign of Gibson. Maxwell was feeling a little woozy and he needed fresh air. Jack had been a consummate host, keeping him company in between visiting certain exhibits—obviously, he wasn’t as big on this exhibition as Gibson was—but Maxwell needed some space. And peace and quiet. The constant chatter and noise in the hall was fraying his sanity.

“I’m going to go outside, get some air,” Maxwell said to Jack as he stood up.

Jack nodded. “Cool. I’ll tell Gibson where you are when he gets back. I’m going to stay here and try get to the next level of this game.” He looked up. “It’s probably raining. You might need an umbrella.”

“If
he gets back,” Maxwell muttered. “And I don’t have a brolly.” Thoughts of him and Everett had been flitting through his mind, and while he trusted Gibson, his insecurity was bleeding through.

“He’ll be back,” Jack said confidently. “Stop being such a worry wart. He gets a bit distracted.”

“Okay. Well, let him know where I am and I’ll hopefully see him in a bit, not too wet.” Maxwell picked up his jacket, drained his beer and stopped to take a pee on his way out. After a veritable mission getting to the entrance, he finally made his way out into the overcast, drizzling climes of the city.

“Great,” he grumbled. “Bloody raining again.” It had in all truth only been raining for two days, which by British standards wasn’t bad, but he was in a bit of a mood. He’d known Gibson had things to do, but he was missing him. And the fact Everett had
his
Gibson wasn’t making it any better.

“Oh grow up, you stupid git,” he told himself as he stood, shivering with the cold breeze despite his thick, wool-lined denim jacket. “Stop being such a misery guts.” Scolding himself for his stupidity made him feel a little better.

He took a few deep breaths of the rain-scented air as he watched the denizens of the capital walking past in Macintoshes and coats, huddled underneath umbrellas. His eyes noticed a figure huddled in a shop front two doors down and his heart sank. One thing Maxwell couldn’t do was resist giving something to the homeless people who lined the streets. It was the least he could do. He usually gave food, coffee or warm clothing but he had none of those things at the moment and nowhere to buy them. It would have to be money.

He opened his wallet, took out two five-pound notes and walked over to the figure sitting in the corner, hidden by a blanket already spattered with rain. He squatted down in front of them, not too close, knowing from experience sudden moves could startle some of the street kids. That alone could cause all manner of mayhem, perhaps even a knife in the ribs.