Chapter 20
TWENTY
Charles buries his chin deeper in his scarf. It’s not as cold in London as it is in Chicago – according to Elsy, who has been complaining about it for five minutes – but the icy wind shaking the naked trees of the park is numbing his face.
‘How are things, weather aside?’
‘Pretty lit! I’m trying to befriend the marketing director. I gave her dating advice. Hopefully it’ll bear fruit for her tonight.’
‘What about you? Have you found a Chicagoan to test the extent of your expertise with?’
‘No. But I hooked up with Chris.’
‘The Chris who’s in your class?’
‘I’d be a tad more excited if I meant Chris Evans.’
‘Is there something in the American water that made you realise you fancy him?’
‘Probably… But anyway, how are you doing?’
‘I’m alright. Nothing special. You know…’
Suddenly on edge, Charles leaps up from the bench he sat on to take her unexpected call. He doesn’t want to talk about Loris with Elsy while an ocean separates them, but he hates that he has to lie again.
‘No, I don’t know and I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘Gazing at my own upset navel on Sunday and not checking how you were doing after… After hearing Liv. After learning that… That—’
‘Milton drove Fred to speed up that road?’
‘Yes… It’s so messed up. How bad is it in Charland?’
‘It’s hard to tell... Ask me again in a week.’
‘I’ll ask you every day. How is it at home?’
‘I’m playing hide and seek with them, minus the seeking part. I volunteered to entertain Spencer tonight, so I’ll go straight to his place after my walk and I should manage to avoid—’
‘Your walk? In the park? It must be pitch black!’
‘I’ll use the torch on my phone.’
‘Very efficient against zombies or werewolves.’
‘It’s Hampstead Heath.’
‘You never know! And you’ll have to escape suitors whose breasts are too small for your liking.’
‘I’ll be fine…’
‘You’re mad… Go, then!’
‘It won’t make any difference if we speak a bit longer.’
‘But my future best friend just got back from lunch and— Hang on. I’m navel-gazing again. Sorry. What do you want to speak—’
‘It’s alright, Els, go get her! And keep me updated.’
‘Will do. I love you. Mind the monsters!’
Charles promises he will, hangs up and points his torch at the path climbing across a clearing on his left.
His mission would be easier if he didn’t have to search for clues in the dark. But his Loris-strategy for tomorrow night depends on it, and taking a day off to go on a hike would be pushing it.
Besides, the new client is coming to the firm first thing in the morning, and Gareth would claim the account for himself if Charles were to miss that meeting.
He tugs at his beanie and steps over a root. When twigs crack in a grove, he stops in his tracks but shakes off the horror-film sequences Elsy put into his head.
No, there are no monsters in Hampstead.
At least not in the park.
***
The next day, Charles discovers that their new client is a property developer who, ten years ago, avoided prosecution thanks to his amazing lawyer, Milton Ledwell. Which means that Clifford’s trust in Charles was partly motivated by this convenient coincidence.
A winning bet given how the man’s enthusiasm increases when he understands who will be dealing with his finances.
Clifford is in seventh heaven, and Charles goes back to his desk, fuming.
He doesn’t care that he’s being used for his connections nor about earning Clifford’s admiration.
Before Christmas, Charles only threw himself into work because of the misguided illusion that he could perhaps find meaning and purpose in the future planned out for him.
Since his return, he’s chosen to remain involved, coming to a healthy compromise between acceptance and refusal.
Getting the most from this experience won’t doom him to a lifelong agonising career.
Charles also hoped to find meaning and purpose in his ability to discount the part his father played in his professional situation. To grow from it, in spite of him.
But the meeting with the client reminded Charles of the nepotism he benefited from and foreshadowed countless conversations about his genitor’s greatness. A place that he was progressively clearing of Milton’s influence stinks of him again.
Going Robin Hood on the firm is tempting.
‘What’s the matter with you?’
Charles glares up at Gareth’s peeved grimace that breaks a new record of stupid. ‘Do you care?’
‘Your murderous vibe is distracting.’
‘Because it’s not directed at you for once?’
Gareth frowns, but his line rings before the comment computes.
Charles checks his phone and opens an email from his father, forwarded from an Italian contact.
‘I told you that getting carried away was unwise.’
Charles browses the summary of Enrica Bianchi’s decisions about her art inheritance and lets out a lengthy sigh. It’s beginning to feel like a general conspiracy to drain his spirit.
15:27 Tell me there’s no risk you’ll be called to work. The thought of spending the evening with you is the one thing keeping me from strangling my colleague.
15:28 No pressure.
15:30 WITH ONE L Patty could offer me a raise I’d still come to find out why you want me to join you in front of a women’s clothing store
15:30 WITH ONE L Mad-Charles seems hot I’m looking forward to meeting him
‘What’s her name?’ Gareth asks with a grin that doesn’t make him look smarter.
‘Sorry?’
‘Your face completely morphed.’
‘I’m just reading Clifford’s appreciative feedback.’
‘What feedback? I didn’t get an email!’
Already in a sweat, Gareth clenches his mouse. Charles sneers and refocuses on arousing Loris’ curiosity without showing his hand.
***
Charles is six frontages away when he spots Loris’ red padded jacket. Bliss brings a silly beaming smile to his face, but the misty night gives him a minute to bite it down to a pleased expression that won’t betray the size of his heart.
When he joins Loris, he bumps their hips together by way of a greeting and takes a peek at his phone screen. ‘Rugby podcast?’
‘Don’t judge me.’
‘For being passionate? Never. As long as it doesn’t clash with what I’m into.’
‘About that,’ Loris points at a plaid dress in the window display behind him, ‘I’m open-minded, but we should discuss your kinks.’
Charles chuckles and whisks him away. ‘We’re not going inside the shop. This is the location I sent you. The street junction.’
‘Because…?’
‘We’re equidistant between two places I want to take you to. We can only go to one tonight and I’m letting you choose.’
‘What places?’
‘I’m not telling you that. The choice you need to make is North or South.’
Loris glances both ways. ‘How far?’
‘A ten-minute walk.’
‘South, then.’
‘Are you sure?’
Charles arches a dramatic eyebrow even though he approves. It’s the better option at this time.
It’s also the one that will allow him to unwrap Loris from some layers the soonest.
‘Quite sure, yeah.’
‘Let’s go. But why such a categorical decision?’
‘I’m hoping one of the options is the Sofia room. And based on the average rents of the neighbourhood, I’d say you live somewhere... in that direction.’
‘Alright, Sherlock.’
Loris comes to a standstill. ‘Am I wrong? Please tell me now, so I can get over my crushing disappointment. I don’t want to ruin the mood and your plans later.’
‘You’re not wrong.’
Loris produces a weird sound, hybrid of a cry and a cluck. Charles laughs, casts a look around and presses their lips together.
‘I hope you’re aware I’m not gonna be okay in that room,’ Loris says, caressing his cheeks.
‘I’m counting on it.’
A man emerges from a side street, so they resume walking, leaving just enough space between them for their arms to swing and their hands to lock, let go and lock again.
‘Hey, where’s mad-Charles?’
‘I ditched him. He’s not the company I like to keep.’
‘But what did your colleague do to summon him?’
‘He’s a vindictive halfwit but, to be honest, I use him as a mental punching ball. Being mad at him is a lot less hassle than being mad at… who I’m truly mad at.’
‘Your father?’
‘Wild guess?’
‘You called him a dickhead on Saturday.’
‘I was being too kind and…’ Charles grimaces. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t.’
‘Don’t refrain from bitching about your father because I lost mine. I’m sure you have valid reasons.’
‘I do, but I’d rather bitch about something more relevant. Kaunas. Donie Culver’s daughter has decided to keep Her as part of a private collection. In her private house.’
‘That sucks.’
‘So bad! It’s unfair!’
‘Says the guy who’s taking me to a private collection in a private house.’
Charles elbows him. ‘It’s not the same.’
‘No? I think Olwinski geeks around the world curse your name for having a Land all to yourself. But you’re right, it’s different. They can’t go see one in their underwear to feel better about the injustice.’
‘You’re supposed to bitch with me, not at me!’
‘I’m not here to tell you what you want to hear, Charles. But happy to listen.’
‘It’s just that… I had made my peace with never seeing Kaunas. And suddenly I got my hopes up. Which was a big mistake because now I’m like… By the way, I’ve changed my mind, we’re not going to my place but to a sushi restaurant.’
‘What?’
‘See! This is how I feel!’ Charles flinches aside when Loris elbows him in return.
‘Except my crushing disappointment is real and… and I’m about to sound like an unbearable spoilt brat, but I’m used to getting what I want.
Materially speaking. Not only stuff, but also experiences.
If Enrica Bianchi exhibited Kaunas this weekend, I’d go.
Just like that. But she won’t, I’ll never see that painting, and it’s a cruel reminder that actual happiness can’t be bought. ’
Loris throws an arm around Charles’ shoulders. ‘I’m sorry you’re upset about it. If there’s anything I can do to make you feel better, let me know.’
‘Anything?’
‘You’re taking me to one of my all-time favourite paintings. I’d put on that weird dress from the shop if you asked.’
Charles nestles against him with a laugh that echoes in his chest for a while.