CHAPTER 16 #3
He looked around. ‘I love this,’ he said, without having to lie.
‘You’ve done a great job.’ He did love it – the apartment was expansive, indicating a wealth he was unlikely to ever have access to, and it was clean and beautiful.
He doubted Brian ever had mould issues, or a tap everyone knew not to touch in case it screamed, or a cupboard full of vacuum cleaners.
Despite the fact Brian had decorated the apartment like a gay-midlife-crisis Pinterest board – Tom of Finland framed prints, black wood, leather couches, glass coffee table – Jeremy was envious.
‘Oh, thank you,’ demurred Brian. ‘I’ve always seen my house as just the place where I write my works, and occasionally sleep when I’m lucky, but I guess over the years I’ve picked up an appreciation for the aesthetic.’
‘Mmm,’ agreed Jeremy, because what was he meant to say to that?
‘Would you like to see where the magic happens?’ asked Brian, depositing the cheese on the kitchen bench.
Jeremy was escorted into the study, where there was a huge oak desk and a large office chair.
The room was lined with shelves of books, most of which were Brian’s, stacks of copies of his literary tomes, including the book that made his name – The Reckoners – and his latest, Fathers and Brothers .
‘Take a look around and I’ll grab us a drink,’ Brian said, walking back into the kitchen. Jeremy took the time to pull out his phone, and saw that Sam had finally responded: Okay.
Jeremy felt a prickle of panic.
I hope that’s okay , he wrote back. Brian invited me over, which will be a real coup for the campaign.
Then he thought for a bit and texted again. Which you of course know, because you designed it.
Then he wrote: I really hope you understand.
And then: But how about tomorrow night as a raincheck?
And lastly: I’m sorry, I hope you’re not upset. It seemed like an important moment to seize.
After another agonising couple of seconds, a response came through from Sam : That’s fine
Jeremy found himself feeling like he’d maybe, perhaps, fucked up in some way, although he wasn’t entirely sure how.
No, that wasn’t true – he knew he shouldn’t have blown off Sam, but he wasn’t sure what it meant in the long run, and exactly why he was wrong to do it.
He suspected maybe he’d done something very stupid.
‘This is a gorgeous South Australian drop I found recently,’ said Brian, bustling back in with two large glasses of wine. Jeremy put his phone away, accepted the wine, and took a deep breath.
‘I loved this one,’ he said, pointing to the bookcase. He realised he’d pointed at the unpopular follow-up to The Reckoners , A Long Kiss Goodnight for Tom , which had mostly bombed.
Brian chuckled. ‘An opinion those hacks at the LA Review of Books did not share.’
‘I think it was hard for it to stand in the shadow of The Reckoners ,’ ventured Jeremy.
He had never read the book, but he remembered Miles saying the same thing many years ago, in a slightly more negative tone.
Miles had been bitterly disappointed with A Long Kiss Goodnight .
‘It needed room to stand on its own, be its own book – but people just wanted another Reckoners , which is understandable as it’s an appallingly good book. ’
Brian visibly brightened, nodding his head thoughtfully. ‘I love that theory. Yes, quite insightful.’
Jeremy actually hadn’t minded The Reckoners . It was, like Brian himself, self-important and narcissistic, with some really weird and regressive attitudes regarding women, but it was an engrossing and massive epic.
‘I must say, and I hope you aren’t offended,’ Brian was saying, ‘I didn’t expect such interesting perspectives about my work from a website called Buzzpop.
Your review was a surprise, in the sense I never expected it to turn up on that kind of website, and also in the sense that it was beautifully written.
I know I’m biased – I love anything that compliments my work – but there were some lovely turns of phrase, and some great thinking.
When you said that Fathers and Brothers was a novel about disappointment, I actually had to rethink my own work. ’
‘You’re very welcome,’ murmured Jeremy. ‘I actually wrote my third-year dissertation on your work, and I think Fathers and Brothers is a new and exciting direction for you.’
Jeremy hadn’t done that – Miles had. But Jeremy had read that essay so many times he could almost recite it.
‘Oh! A literary man,’ Brian said, his eyebrows shooting upwards. ‘Once again, a surprise – next you’ll be telling me that all the celebrity gossips and sex columnists you work with are actually poets and philosophers!’
Jeremy ground his teeth and pretended to laugh. ‘You might be surprised!’
‘And where did you study? I must send them a note to thank them for making everyone read my book.’ Brian was now standing behind Jeremy, extremely close, pretending they were still looking at the books.
‘The Parker Workshop,’ admitted Jeremy.
‘Oh! Yes, I often guest lecture there,’ said Brian. ‘The current dean is a lovely woman, very knowledgeable about the romantics. Very prestigious!’
‘I guess you could say it made me who I am today,’ said Jeremy ambiguously walking towards the door, feeling hemmed in by Brian standing close and heavy behind him.
‘Hmm – I have to go to that dreadful alumni gathering in a few months,’ mused Brian. ‘I hate doing literary things that aren’t really about me. Although, there’s always great booze. Are you going?’
‘Yes,’ said Jeremy, dry-mouthed. ‘It’s my year being showcased, actually.’
‘Wonderful! Perhaps we could even go together – presuming you’re not taking anybody else?’ His tone was polite, but there was a twinkle in his eye that made Jeremy pretty sure he was being hit on.
The surge of triumph that flooded through Jeremy took him by surprise, propelled on the wings of hate for Miles. He could feel something imp-like and horrible inside him dancing for joy.
‘That sounds fun,’ said Jeremy, striving for nonchalance. Brian couldn’t know why his heart was suddenly pounding with excitement. ‘I’d really enjoy that.’
He clenched his hand so hard that his fingernails dug into his palm. Going to the reunion with Brian would be a coup. Miles would be destroyed. Jeremy was so excited he tasted blood in his mouth, and it tasted like success.
They moved into the living room, with Brian telling a long and mostly pointless anecdote about a class he’d taught at the workshop once, but Jeremy wasn’t listening. He was feeling a strange, unfamiliar sensation – victory.
He’d worked so long and hard on this ridiculous spite scheme, and even though he believed in it, even though he was motivated by the roaring fire of pettiness and loathing and humiliation, he had never really and truly envisioned it playing out to his advantage.
He’d imagined a dozen scenarios, practised in the shower the different things he’d say to Miles: ‘Oh yes, this is Pablo, my husband … he’s a model, but in his spare time he’s the head of the United Nations …
we’re very much in love.’ But this was different.
He’d managed to engineer exactly the situation that would drive Miles maddest – turning up on the arm of the novelist he respected and admired the most in the world.
Brian wasn’t the hot muscle twink he had originally envisioned, but he was an attractive, distinguished older man.
They’d look good together; Jeremy would even appear comparatively fresh and youthful.
But more importantly, Brian was respected in that world and would make Jeremy seem important as a result.
Miles would be so jealous. He would be seething. When he used to talk about what their life would look like and list the people who would be coming to their dinner parties, he always included Brian.
‘Oh, this is Miles,’ he’d say to Brian at the event. ‘I probably haven’t mentioned him, but we used to date. Yes – actually, he wrote a little book about me! Obsessed. Anyway, we have to go get a drink. Lovely to see you, Miles.’
Jeremy’s hands clenched with rage and excitement.
Brian asked him a question, and he reluctantly returned his attention to the present.
‘Wow,’ Jeremy said, with no real idea about what was happening. ‘That’s a great story. Well, we’ll definitely have to go to the alumni mixer then – it’s a date.’
Brian blinked, clearly confused at this response to his story, but he smiled thinly and rested a hand on Jeremy’s. ‘Wonderful, I’m looking forward to it. These things can be so dreary on your own.’
Jeremy smiled, and when Brian turned his back to show him an award he’d won, he checked his phone. Nothing from Sam. He clamped down on his rising panic, biting his lip as he tried frantically to think of a way to stop feeling like he’d just made an awful mistake.