3. Milo
MILO
“What’s wrong with your face?” asked Lexie.
“What?” Milo said, brushing at his mouth. “Have I got some crumbs?”
“No, you look like a miserable cunt.”
Milo couldn’t help but chuckle. Lexie had never been one to mince her words, and she used the C-bomb like an adjective.
She knew him better than any of his flatmates, including Liam.
He referred to Liam as his best friend, and that was true, but Lexie was different.
She was like his big sister, who knew what he was thinking before he did.
Sometimes you meet someone and you just click immediately.
If they’d been each other’s type, they’d have made the perfect couple.
They’d met at university as part of an LGBTQ+ student group in their last year.
She was older than he was, and most of the other students, but only by five years.
At eighteen she’d transitioned, because she’d wanted to experience university as her authentic self, and her parents, who were lovely people, fully supported her.
They treated Milo as their adoptive son, and he didn’t complain.
Lexie’s mum was the best cook in the world, and he’d be spending Christmas with them this year.
He alternated between Lexie’s and Liam’s families, the latter being just as welcoming.
Liam was from a small town in the home counties called Heartwood, and it was as sickly sweet as it sounded.
Everyone knew your business, but you couldn’t ask for a more supportive community.
Whenever he visited Liam, one of the old dears would always try to set Milo up with one of their nephews – which was sweet and embarrassing at the same time – though they knew Milo preferred older men.
“I’m not miserable,” he protested.
“What’s his name?”
“It’s not about a guy.”
She raised an eyebrow and gave him the “don’t bullshit me” look, which she’d definitely got from her mother.
“BreedMe69.”
Lexie’s eyes widened for a second before her face cracked into a huge smile.
“Oh, this is gonna be good.”
“No, definitely not good. I turned up. He called me a short arse and slammed the door in my face.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Do you need me to smash his windows?”
Milo laughed. “No, it’s fine. I just wish gay men knew how to read.”
“Women aren’t much better on that one,” she said, with a grimace.
Milo’s heart went out to her. Lexie was always upfront about being trans.
She had the flag on her profile and it was written in her profile headline, but women saw how stunning she was, a massive pair of tits and nothing else.
She had a rule now that if she met someone online, they needed to have a conversation first, so they were clear she hadn’t been born a woman.
People could be really fucking cruel, despite claiming to be allies.
“Well, now I feel like an arsehole.”
“You have nothing to feel bad about. Heightism. Transphobia. The struggle is real.”
“Get fucked,” he laughed, pushing her shoulder.
“Feel better?” she asked.
“A bit. Feel even better when I get a shag.”
“You should try bottoming again.”
“No thanks. Tried it twice, and not for me.”
“Twice?”
“Yeah, like your mum always says.”
Lexie cracked up laughing. “She was referring to things like sprouts, or black pudding. Give something another go before you say you don’t like it. She wasn’t referring to bottoming.”
“Well, it was brilliant advice. I apply it to everything.”
“I’ll tell her how inspiring she’s been for you.”
Milo narrowed his eyes at his best friend. He wasn’t sure if she was taking the piss again or being genuine. Lexie’s parents were very loving and open-minded, but there were some things they didn’t need to know. And Milo’s bedroom habits were on that list.
“Your face,” she said with a laugh.
“Remind me again why I’m friends with you.”
“Because I’m the only one who’ll call you out on your shit.”
She wasn’t wrong there. Milo could struggle to express his views on matters, as he hated confrontation. He would do something he had no interest in just to keep the peace. Lexie always saw through all of that.
“What time did you want to get to Whitehall on Saturday?” asked Milo.
“Everything kicks off at eleven, so I was thinking half ten.”
“Won’t it be packed out by then? Kieran was suggesting we get there at six.”
“Six in the morning? Is he crazy? And do what? Stand around for five hours?”
“We need to be front and centre and show our support.”
Lexie rolled her eyes. She’d always thought Kieran was a bit much. Milo just went with whatever he suggested, because it was easier than getting into a disagreement.
“So, half ten?” asked Lexie.
“Yeah, sure.”
“And you’ll tell Kieran?”
“Of course.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
Milo laughed, feeling uncomfortable about how right she was. Despite what he’d just said, if Kieran wanted him at the protest site from six o’clock in the morning, Milo would be there.
Monday morning arrived, and the usual frantic catch-up began.
Milo might not work on the weekend, but the news didn’t stop happening.
It wasn’t unusual for his boss, Patrick, to need his entire schedule changed because of something that had happened, and today was no exception.
Milo had suggested they keep Patrick’s diary clear on a Monday morning for when this happened, but his time was in high demand.
Enormous blocks of nothing in his diary were a luxury Patrick Whitaker’s schedule didn’t allow.
Milo had worked as Patrick’s PA for five years.
He hadn’t been planning to pursue a career as a PA.
He’d completed a creative writing degree, which had led him into the publishing industry as a PA, which was how he got his foot in the door.
His first boss had been an absolute bitch, and everyone else had treated him like the office skivvy.
There’d been an expectation that he’d make himself available twenty-four seven, and he’d even been ordered to fly home early from holiday once, at his own expense.
That had been the final straw for him. He’d resigned, and as he’d worked out his notice, not a single person in the office had spoken to him for the entire month, which had been a horrific experience.
After that experience, he’d wanted a male boss.
Milo didn’t tar all women with the same brush, but he’d been the only man in that company, and the way they’d treated him had left him feeling antsy.
He remembered the agency that had put him forward for the role with Patrick saying the man was very particular about what he wanted and had already gone through three PAs in a year.
Milo had heard that working with other gay guys you only got one of two outcomes – you became besties, like sisters, or it was handbags at dawn.
Thankfully, there was a middle ground. Patrick was very easy to work with, as long as you didn’t bother him with pointless crap.
He liked people to come to him with solutions, which Milo loved.
The guy was a big teddy bear really, but also someone who had a stern side if you pissed him off.
“Milo, can you do some digging through the forums about this speculation on the prime minister?” asked Patrick.
“What about her?”
“There are some whispers out of Whitehall that she’s planning to step down.”
“What? But there’s less than two years until the next election?”
“She’ll want to get her golden boy a full term while he’s shiny and new but not a complete unknown, whilst the opposition are still squabbling amongst themselves.”
“Do you think Chivington would make a good PM?” asked Milo. “I mean, he’s nice to look at, so there is that.”
“Not really my type, Milo.”
Milo snorted, but also felt his face heat.
A couple of years ago, he’d accidentally walked in on Patrick with his husband on his knees.
Milo had heard the word “daddy” and couldn’t get out of there quick enough.
That had been an embarrassing conversation, as his boss had apologised and then explained he had a daddy-boy relationship with his husband.
He’d heard about it, but had never seen the dynamic before.
He hadn’t elaborated on how it worked for them, and Milo was grateful for that.
Sadly, Patrick’s husband had died not long after, and his boss hadn’t been himself for a while.
“Besides,” said Patrick. “The only other option would be Hargreaves.”
“You can’t be serious. Not after what he did. Who would vote for him?”
“You’d be surprised, Milo. My source is telling me he still has every intention of standing. If it goes to a party vote, then he’s the favourite.”
“There’s no way that transphobic arsehole could be in charge of our country,” Milo snapped.
“I agree, although that’s between us and these four walls. Outside, I have to be the impartial journalist, as do you.”
“I’m not a journalist.”
“I still don’t know why, Milo. Your writing is brilliant.”
He felt his face heat again. “Thank you, but I don’t think you’d be able to cope without me as your PA.”
Patrick chuckled. “Very true. Well, you know to talk to me if you change your mind. The one thing I would never do is hold someone back in their career. Pull me what you can on the research by the end of the day. We know it’s happening, even if we can’t prove it yet, but I want to know what the public sentiment is currently. ”