16. Edward
EDWARD
Everything was in place. Edward had the numbers, and if his source was correct, Hargreaves didn’t.
This could all be over in three weeks, and he’d be able to come out and be with Milo publicly.
Barely spending time with him the past two months had been hell, but Olivia was announcing her resignation on Monday, and the leadership contest would kick off.
After a late sitting in parliament last night, he was planning not to head into the office until late morning.
He’d done his morning workout. He had equipment at home because going to a local gym would invite unwanted attention.
Someone could come up to him on the treadmill to complain about their pothole, or a guy might unsubtly try to look at his dick in the changing room.
He’d just finished his breakfast of scrambled eggs on soda-bread toast when his phone rang.
It was Derek, who was never up at this time of the morning.
“Did you shit the bed?” asked Edward.
“Get to mine as quickly as you can.”
“Why?”
“No questions. Just get here ASAP.”
“Okay. Give me half an hour.”
“Good. We’ll talk then,” he said before hanging up.
What the fuck was that all about? So much for a relaxing morning. Not knowing what this was going to be about, he drove himself over. He didn’t want to leave his driver hanging around, and if he needed to make a quick getaway, then he could just leave.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” said Derek, opening the door.
“What’s going on?” he asked, walking inside.
“Go through to the kitchen. You’re going to need a drink.” He closed the door, and they started walking.
“It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
“Hold that thought.”
Edward walked into the kitchen and his jaw dropped in shock.
“Milo, what are you doing here?”
He looked upset about something, so Edward instantly went to him, grabbed his hands, and scanned his whole body, hoping it would give him the answers to whatever had made Milo make that face.
“Has someone hurt you?”
“No . . . well, not really. It’s just . . . I don’t know how to say this.”
“There are explicit pictures of you and Milo together,” said Derek. “They’re going to print.”
Edward felt like he’d been punched in the gut.
“That’s not all. It’s Patrick Whitaker who’s going to print it.”
He let go of Milo’s hands, even though he was on the verge of tears. He needed to understand a few things first.
“When are they going to print?”
“It’ll be before Monday,” said Derek.
“I want Milo to answer the questions. Does Patrick know what’s being announced on Monday?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Milo.
He knew Milo was telling the truth, so he didn’t elaborate any further. He hated doing this, but after ten years as a politician, it had been ingrained in him to detach when he was gathering facts. Edward needed to know what he was dealing with.
“Have you got the pictures with you?”
Milo nodded. He pulled out his phone, opened his photo album, and scrolled to a folder. He passed it to Edward, who looked at them. It was hard to be objective when he was looking at such an intimate moment. There was no doubt it was his face, so denial wasn’t an option.
“Why are you cropped out on some pictures and not on others?” he asked Milo.
“I’m not sure. I think the first was a teaser or something. Then he got the unedited pictures.”
“And why is the word ‘cunt’ written across them all?”
“It’s a watermark to stop them from being printed without the photographer being paid.”
“Do you know who the photographer is?”
Milo shook his head.
“It’s not Hargreaves,” said Derek.
“How do you know that? I thought he’d been quiet. This timing is not a coincidence.”
“I asked Patrick,” said Milo. “He said it was nothing to do with Hargreaves, but wouldn’t tell me who it was. He said it was for my safety.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I have a feeling it might have something to do with Grant Kincaid.”
“Who?”
“He’s part of the mob,” said Derek.
“The mob? What is this, the sixties?”
“This guy’s a big deal, Eddie. He’s at the top of the tree and not someone you want to piss off.”
“Why? Because he’ll kill me?” he said, with a snort.
“Yes. It’s not a joke, Eddie. I don’t know why Kincaid would want to do something like this, though. It’s not his style.”
“Probably a homophobe.”
“No, he’s bi. He’s married to a guy, so it’s not that.”
“Why do you think it’s him, Milo?” asked Derek.
“Patrick has been investigating him. He was in the office the other day, and . . .”
“And what?” asked Edward.
“You can’t repeat this.”
He nodded.
“My boss’s new boyfriend is Grant Kincaid’s husband. Well, ex-husband, except they’re not divorced yet.”
“What the fuck!”
Edward wasn’t sure what else to say. He had no idea why some mob boss wanted to out him.
He knew organised crime was an issue in the UK, but why were they interfering with politics?
If Patrick was involved with this Grant guy’s husband, it had to be related to that, and he was just caught in the crossfire.
“Is there anything I can say to persuade him to hold off?” he asked Milo.
“He wanted to make you an offer.”
“What’s that? Sell my story to him, and he’ll make me look good?”
“Something like that.”
Edward snapped. “Tell him to get fucked. In fact, tell him this. On Monday, the prime minister is going to announce she’s stepping down, which will kick off a leadership contest. If he prints this, then it’ll put Hargreaves in number ten.”
He turned around and walked out before he said something to Milo he’d regret.
He knew it wasn’t his fault, and he was just the messenger, but that didn’t stop him from being angry.
Why did this have to happen now? In another few weeks it wouldn’t have mattered.
Well, the pictures would always matter, but if he was already out, the public would see it as a gross invasion of privacy.
But now it would be titillating gossip. Before he could open the door, Derek grabbed him.
“Where are you going?”
“To the office.”
“You need to speak to Patrick.”
“No I don’t. If he really wants to interfere in a leadership election, he’ll lose all his credibility.”
“At least speak to Milo. Don’t just walk out like this. It’s not his fault.”
“I know, but I just need some time to think.”
Before Derek could say anything else, he was out the door and heading for his car.
It took forty-eight hours for the story to break: “Deputy PM’s Private Life Exposed.”
It wasn’t the most inventive headline, but once it was out there the other papers took things to another level and made sure people knew he was with another man in the pictures, which was obvious enough to anyone who could see.
And then, “Deputy PM’s Gay Rent Boy Romp.
” That had been the clincher. He’d stopped looking after that.
The press office at number ten had told him not to speak to anybody, and any statements had to go through them.
His silence was only making things worse.
His leadership chances were gone, so what did it matter now?
It appeared as if he was ashamed of who he was.
He needed to say something. There was a scrum of reporters outside his house, so he wouldn’t even need to call a press conference; he could just walk out the door and give his statement.
Before he could think any more about it, his phone rang. It was Olivia, so he answered it.
“Good morning, boss.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I want to make a statement.”
“I thought you might. I’m just calling to let you know I will not be making the announcement on Monday. Let this all blow over, and we’ll pick a new date in a few weeks.”
“Okay, so what do I do? Call a press conference? I don’t want to be scripted by the press office, but I also don’t want to deal with their intrusive questions either.”
“What about an exclusive with someone?”
“Sally has called me a few times.”
“I’d have been disappointed if she hadn’t,” said Olivia .“How about this? We’ll set up the interview with Sally, which we can do in a room here. You could give a statement outside your place, but say there’ll be no questions.”
“I don’t want to be scripted.”
“I know, but they’ll need to at least know the bullet points of what you’re going to say. They need to know what they’re dealing with, Eddie, so they can protect you.”
“Fine. Give me half an hour to pull something together. I just want to get this done.”
“At least Patrick didn’t print the photos that identified Milo as well.”
“Of course not. He wouldn’t do something like that. Milo’s innocent in all this.”
As soon as he’d left Derek’s house, he’d gone straight to Olivia and told her everything about his relationship with Milo, with a few exceptions.
From the press reports it looked like nobody knew how they’d met.
If it hadn’t been for their getting together at the hotel, there would have been no photographic evidence of them together at all.
“Right, let me sort things out at this end. Write what you want to cover and email it directly to me. I’ll make sure they know it’s just an FYI, and speak to Sally. Give me an hour and I’ll call you back with a timeline.”
“Thank you. I’ll get on it now.”
He hung up the phone and picked up his laptop from the sofa, before grabbing a soft drink from the fridge and sitting at the dining table.
How much did he want to say at this point?
He would need to confirm that he was gay.
Did he want to bring his dad into this, as the reason why he’d been in the closet for so long?
Was it right to do that to his memory? He wasn’t sure, so he could leave the closet question for when Sally grilled him, which she would do.
Even with pre-approved questions, she would not let him off with vague answers.
He did a brain dump of everything he wanted to say, and after fifteen minutes, he felt lighter for it.
Much of it was unusable, even for the Sally interview, but at least he now had something to work with.
He saved the document, as that was something he’d want to read again one day.
After copying everything over to a fresh document, he cut out what was unusable, which was what he really thought about his dad, his preferences in the bedroom, and the early part of his relationship with Milo.
There were some things the public didn’t need to know about their deputy prime minister.
Before he’d finished, Olivia was calling him back.
“That was quick,” he said, answering the call.
“We’ve got another problem.”
“Do I want to hear this?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, and closing his eyes.
“It’s Milo. They know who he is.”