Chapter 28
I’M COMIN’ HOME BABY
MICHAEL
I woke up in the clothes I wore yesterday, on top of the blankets, at the end of my bed. Consciousness crept over me, and when I recalled what happened last night, I let out an almighty sob.
Oh God. What did I do?
The events of the evening replayed in slow motion, and I wished I could fall back asleep.
I didn’t want to face the day. I didn’t know how I could.
So I stripped my clothes off, left them where they fell, and crawled underneath the top sheet.
Maybe I couldn’t stay in bed forever, but I could damn well try.
The shrill ring of my telephone roused me from broken sleep. Rolling over and throwing my arm over my head, I decided to ignore it. Nobody important would be ringing. Mick wouldn’t be ringing, and he was the only person I wanted to talk to. Silence fell again, and I sighed.
Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.
“For fuck’s sake,” I murmured. “Let me be miserable in peace.” Again I let it ring out. Only a psychopath would try to phone a third time.
Piercing bells filled my flat again. “What the fuck is wrong with the world? Can’t I just wallow in my own fucking self-pity. Everyone needs to leave me the fuck alone. Fucking fucks.”
Grumbling to nobody, I got up this time, if only so I could disconnect the telephone.
By the time I lumbered into the hall, the ringing had stopped.
Reaching behind the telephone table to find the wire, I jumped out of my skin myself when the phone rang again.
For a fourth time. Who the hell needed to talk to me that urgently?
“What?” I bellowed down the line.
“Michael, it’s Eric.”
Eric? Why the fuck was Eric calling me? There was no reason. Unless…? “Is he alright?”
“Who?”
“What do you mean ‘who’? Mick of course. Is Mick okay?”
“Oh. Yes. Of course. Mick’s fine.”
“Thank God.” My whole body sagged in relief. “If he’s okay, why did you phone?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“Me? Oh. Hunky dory, dear. You know me.” It hurt me to pretend, but it was easier than the truth.
“Oh, good. Did you sleep well?”
“Oh yes, marvellous. Slept like a baby. It’s amazing how well you sleep without a great big ginger koala bear suffocating you.”
“Right, yes. Good. That’s good. Um, are you around this evening? I thought I might pop by and see you.”
No no no no no. I couldn’t bear to see Eric; it would be too difficult to see him without Mick being there.
“Sorry, dearie, no can do tonight. I’m going out with Damian. Le Duce. I haven’t been in such a long time. It’s time to let my hair down.”
That would do. That would get him off the phone and let me get back to bed.
“Oh smashing, I’ll see you there, then.”
“I–”
The line went dead before I could say anything. Fuck. I did not want to leave my flat at all. I didn’t want to leave my bed. The last thing I wanted to do was go to the bloody club. I didn’t have his bloody phone number so I couldn’t call him and make another excuse.
If I didn’t turn up, he might come to my house and I did not want to talk to him. At least at the club I could just pretend to be fine, smile at him, and make an excuse to leave.
I could do this. I could sleep for the rest of the day, then get dressed, show up at Le Duce until Eric got there and then leave. Would he bring Tommy and Mick? Normally I’d be certain he would. Eric didn’t go anywhere without Tommy, and they wouldn’t leave Mick at home on his own.
On the other hand, I very much doubted Mick wanted to see my face for a long time after the awful things I said last night.
My words played over in my head. They’d come out all wrong.
I hadn’t meant to accuse him of shagging me for a place to stay.
That was not how I meant it at all. I had been trying to apologise.
To tell him I was so sorry if I’d pressured him in any way.
I’d been wrong; that much was obvious. But I’d also been wrong about my previous assumption–that he had feelings for me.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
That was what he’d said when I asked why he’d slept with me. Not because I wanted to. Not because I fancied you. And absolutely not because I love you. Just for something to do. Convenience and a hard-on. That’s all it was.
I needed to forget about him. Move on. Easy peasy. I’d managed so well to ignore him so well before we’d lived together and shared our bodies for a fortnight. It would be simple to carry on with my life as though I hadn’t tasted heaven.
Back to bed. That was the only thing that made sense. Curling up in my bed, I closed my eyes and hoped for oblivion.
Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.
“FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY WILL EVERYBODY JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE?”
“WHAT?” I screamed down the phone.
“Hello to you too, dearie. What’s got your knickers in a twist?”
“Damian, fuck off. I am absolutely not in the fucking mood.”
“Charming. I was just phoning to ask what time we’re meeting tonight.”
“What?”
“At Le Duce. What time are we meeting?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Eric telephoned and asked what time we were meeting, and I said I didn’t know we were, and he assured me we were, so I said I’d call you and find out, and so that’s what I’m doing. So, darling, what time are we meeting tonight?”
“When did you become on telephoning terms with Eric Greene?”
“A while ago. The world does continue to spin when you’re not in it, dear. We can discuss all this tonight if you would just tell me what time I should be at–”
“Nine o’ clock.”
“Good, wha–”
I hung up on him. I hadn’t planned on contacting him at all.
I was only going to go until Eric showed up, then I was going to leave.
Sebastian would expect me to make an effort and stay for a while.
If I didn’t, he’d know something was up and start interrogating me, and I had no intention of letting that happen.
Looking at the clock beside my bed, I decided I still had time for a few hours moping before I had to drag my arse up and get ready. Laying my head down, I tried to forget about everything.
Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.
“That’s it, I’m unplugging the fucking thing and throwing it out of the window for good measure.”
Yanking the headset of the receiver, I screamed into the phone, “WHAT IS IT NOW?”
“Um, is that Mr MacDonald?”
“Pardon?”
“I’m trying to reach Mr Mick MacDonald. He gave me this telephone number. This is–” he rattled off my number.
“Yes. Sorry, yes. Mick, isn't available right now, can I take a message?”
“Yes, please. This is Mr Kerridge from Rothschild Goods Ltd. If Mr MacDonald is still looking for work, we have a position available at our warehouse. He can start on Monday. Could you please let him know and ask him to get back to me?”
“Yes, of course.” What else could I say? I took down the telephone, said goodbye, and hung up.
My head was awash with too many emotions.
Pride and happiness because Mick’s endless searching had worked.
Sadness that I couldn’t tell him right away.
Guilt that I might not get the message to him in time.
Regret because the warehouse was only a ten minute walk from here and it would have been perfect if he were still living here.
More guilt that I’d caused him to leave and now he might not be able to take the job if he couldn't find somewhere to live.
It was all too fucking much.
Against all the odds, I managed to get myself up, cleaned, and dressed in time to meet Damian. At nine o’ clock, I was on D’Arblay Street, steeling myself to go into Le Duce.
“Hello, stranger,” boomed a deep voice. Looking up, I saw the doorman, Bill, smiling down at me.
“The last time I saw you, that gorgeous ginger bloke was carrying your gin-sodden arse home.”
A noise somewhere between a laugh and a whimper escaped me.
“Take it easy on the spirits tonight, will you?”
“Yessir!” I motioned my hand away from my forehead in a mock salute and then froze. That was Mick’s move. God, I couldn’t escape him even in my own body.
Walking down the stairs felt like descending into the depths of the underworld. Alright, yes, I was being dramatic, but I had every right to be. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be at home, in my bed, feeling sorry for myself.
Entering the smoky club had more of a relaxing effect on me than I’d expected.
The shadowy room, the soul music on the jukebox, and the smell of men was all rather comforting.
Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Searching around the room for Damian, I saw him in a corner at the same time as he saw me.
Waving, I started walking towards him then stopped dead in my tracks.
Even from behind, I knew it was him. I would recognise those dazzling red curls anywhere. Time stood still. Aware that I was frozen in the middle of the dance floor, I couldn’t make myself move. Mick swivelled round on his heel and looked straight at me.
His soft, peachy lips twitched up into a small, sad smile. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t see him. It was too fucking soon. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d left, and I was not fucking ready to see him.
Spinning around, I marched back towards the stairs. An upbeat track was playing and there were dancers everywhere. I was knocked and jostled before I could get out of their way.
As I reached the door, someone grabbed my arm and stopped me. I was pulled by a strong hand and then Mick was standing in front of me.
“Hiya,” he said.
“Hi.” I should have left. I should have carried on towards the stairs and got the hell out of there. But I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It’d only been a day, but I’d missed him. No matter what I told myself, forgetting this man was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done.
I needed to get out of there. But first, I owed him an apology. The time we shared shouldn’t be sullied by the last thing I’d said to him.
“I’m–”
“I’m so sorry,” he said.