7. Milo
MILO
Milo was at work making himself a coffee. Patrick was out at an external meeting for the morning. It had been a hectic week so far, with his boss having his schedule derailed every day by some emergency. Milo loved to be busy, but he was looking forward to the weekend when it got here.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to go out and get coffee.
They had an excellent machine in the kitchen, which had cost a small fortune, as Milo had seen the invoice.
But it was a necessity for journalists, who typically survived on caffeine and adrenaline alone.
He was surprised the local coffee shop hadn’t gone into administration when they’d bought it, as everyone stopped going out, apart from Patrick.
He liked to go out for coffee and went to a place on the other side of the river for some unknown reason.
“Milo!” screamed Josie, which startled him.
She rushed over and gave him an enthusiastic hug.
Josie was the office manager and had been here longer than anybody, even Patrick.
She was in her sixties and the biggest gossip he’d ever met.
Even though she was a skinny thing, her voice boomed like a foghorn. You always knew when Josie was around.
She was a good person to have on side, because not only was she brilliant at her job, but she knew everything that was going on. It was a surprise she wasn’t a journalist because she was like a bloodhound for sniffing out scandal, especially when it was in the office.
“How was Fuerteventura?” asked Milo.
Josie always went there for the first two weeks of December.
It was something she used to do with her late husband, and she had friends who went at the same time every year.
It was written in the rulebook that she’d always be off for those two weeks.
She’d then work over Christmas and keep things running whilst everyone was with their families.
She and her husband had never had children, and she always turned down offers for her to join people for Christmas.
Milo suspected she enjoyed spending the big day on her own.
“It was lovely to see everyone again. Did I miss any gossip?” she asked in a whisper.
“Not really. It’s been quiet.”
“You’re boring.”
“You’re the one I usually get my gossip from,” said Milo, laughing. “I should ask you if you have anything for me?”
“Well, I’ve only been here for an hour, so nothing major yet, but I know that someone is gunning for the deputy prime minister.”
“What do you mean?”
“There have been half a dozen anonymous calls suggesting people follow him and they’ll find out about his secret double life.”
“Is that all they’re saying?”
“Yeah. They think it’s someone with a grudge, as it sounds like the same person each time, but they’re disguising their voice. It’s a man, but nobody has placed him.”
“Are they investigating whether it’s true?”
“Not without any evidence. If they followed every anonymous call about a politician, they’d get no work done. You know what Patrick thinks of wasting time on calls like that.”
That was true. Milo knew people would call and make wild accusations about politicians and celebrities.
Patrick was supportive of anonymity for people offering stories, but he wanted more than a rumour to justify the team spending time on it.
Milo wondered who would want to go after Edward Chivington.
It made him think of Kieran, who would love to know about this, so Milo wouldn’t be telling him.
A four-hour rant about privilege and the favoured few was something he could do without.
It was a good job he’d gone into tattooing.
He couldn’t imagine Kieran ever navigating corporate life with all the internal politics and favouritism that Liam spoke about.
The guy had to deal with a lot of shit, but he was paid well into six figures for his troubles, though it wasn’t something Milo could do.
Thinking of Edward Chivington made him think of his own Eddie. He couldn’t believe he’d revealed his name, but he didn’t seem to regret saying it. Milo snorted when the idea popped into his head that they could be the same person. That would be pretty fucked up.
“What’s funny?” asked Josie.
“Intrusive thoughts.” He’d forgotten she was still there.
“Ooh, anything juicy? Is it a new man?”
“No . . . no . . . nothing like that.”
She gave him one of her mum looks, but there was no way he was getting into what was happening with Eddie. How would he even start that conversation?
For the last few months I’ve been meeting a guy called Eddie and fucking him stupid in a dark room. I have no idea what he looks like, but it’s the best sex I’ve ever had.
Yeah, he wasn’t sure anyone could understand that.
Lexie and Liam were the only ones who knew some of it, but not all.
His other flatmates were a different story.
They suspected he was seeing someone, as they’d made a few comments, but they weren’t pushing it.
Kieran had offered to set him up with some of his customers from the tattoo shop, which was usually a surefire way to get Milo interested, and when he’d declined, they knew something was going on.
The last thing he needed was their opinion on the matter; they’d immediately think the worst and get into his head.
Milo knew it could only end one way, and that was with him getting hurt, but somehow he’d developed feelings for Eddie.
He knew it was just sex for the older man, though.
He hadn’t said that, but there had never been a suggestion they meet somewhere else, or even exchange phone numbers.
Even though this could only end one way, Eddie was like a drug, and Milo couldn’t get enough of him.
Patrick asked Milo to join him for lunch. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had lunch before, but given how busy it had been this week, he’d suspected Patrick would want to lock himself away for the rest of the day, especially after having his morning derailed.
“Milo, I had an ulterior motive in asking you for lunch today.”
“Whatever it is you think I did, I will find evidence that it was someone else.”
Patrick chuckled. “Nothing like that. I actually wanted to get your opinion on something.”
“Okay. Should I be worried?”
“No, you’ve just got that moral centre that we journalists don’t,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.
“I wouldn’t include yourself in that. You’ve always been fair and given people the opportunity to share their side of the story. It’s up to them if they haven’t taken up your offer.”
“I appreciate that. This one is delicate, but we’ve been getting a lot of calls about a politician who might be closeted.”
“Chivington?”
“Josie?”
Milo smiled, nodding.
“That woman needs to be on the crime desk, but she won’t listen to me.
Let’s be careful about using names in public places, though.
Look, we both feel the same about people being outed in the press.
This one is different, though, because it’s hard to argue that it’s not in the public interest, given he is the favourite for the top job when the PM steps down, which we know is going to happen next year.
We just don’t have it from a reliable source, or any confirmation of a timeline. ”
“And you want my opinion on that? Why aren’t you talking to your political journalists?”
“I already know what their answer will be. I want the opinion of someone I can trust with this, but who has no vested interest in it for their own career credentials.”
“I don’t think you’d like my answer.”
“Try me.”
“I don’t think anyone should be outed unless it’s to protect them, and even then it has to be a life or death situation.
The world has an opinion about how we live our lives.
Mostly people don’t care, or are indifferent.
For others, they believe we should die. It can be hard enough to accept yourself.
You shouldn’t have to share that with anyone else until you’re ready. ”
“I had a feeling we’d be aligned,” said Patrick, smiling.
“Has anyone given you any evidence to prove it?”
“Nothing concrete, but there’s enough anecdotal evidence to warrant investigating further.”
“It might be worth doing that anyway.”
“What?” asked Patrick, looking shocked.
“If it’s true, then we’re not the only newspaper that suspects or is getting mystery phone calls. The other editors have far fewer scruples than you. If it turns out to be true, wouldn’t you want to be ready to give him a platform to tell his side . . . if he wants to, that is?”
Their food arrived at that moment. Milo had confit duck with a plum jus, hasselback potatoes, and greens. Patrick went for his usual rare steak.
His boss was such a lovely guy, and although his husband dying so young must have been awful, he was one of those men who didn’t do well on his own.
Not that he needed looking after. Quite the opposite.
He’d seen his boss lose some of himself, as he didn’t have someone to fuss over and worship anymore.
He wondered if Patrick would ever be open to love again.
He also wondered what that would be like, to have someone who was devoted to your happiness. He couldn’t imagine it.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” asked Milo.
“Of course.”
“Do you think you’ll ever be in a serious relationship again?”
Patrick frowned, but then there was a slight smile on his face.
“Or have you already met someone?” asked Milo.
“No, nothing like that. There is someone who could be . . . possible . . . but he’s not the serious type unfortunately, and I don’t do casual.”
“I assumed you’d be an all-or-nothing guy. Can I ask you something else, and tell me to piss off if it’s too personal?”
“I have a feeling what you’re going to ask, but go on.” Patrick smiled.