Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Leo
Archie’s retribution for the rap battle is swift, creative, and delivered with the smile of a man who has all the time in the world to plan while lying on a sofa with his leg elevated.
It starts with the Jurassic Park theme song.
He sews a speaker into the lining of my Snugglesaurus suit and calibrates it to play every time I take a step.
For forty minutes, I waddle through a dinosaur party to a continuous soundtrack I can’t turn off because my arms are twelve inches long.
Archie maintains a look of angelic bewilderment throughout, occasionally telling the children that Snugglesaurus must be so happy he’s playing his own theme music.
I smile inside my mesh window. The thing about being underestimated is that it gives you time to plan.
My retaliation is to tell the birthday boy that Captain Giggles has a secret tickle spot and that he should tell his friends.
Information travels through a group of seven-year-olds at roughly the speed of light.
Archie endures twenty minutes of small fingers prodding, poking, and jabbing while trying to lead musical statues.
At one point, a child jabs a finger into the calf of his good leg and he makes a noise I will remember fondly for the rest of my life.
After that, it escalates.
Archie gets creative with my sidekick personas. A mermaid-themed party introduces Sandy Bottomsworth, and I spend two hours in a sequined tail. The construction party brings Brickhead Barry, complete with a hard hat covered in glitter that Archie definitely added himself.
I counter each one. I tell the mermaid-birthday children that Captain Giggles does amazing celebrity impressions, and Archie has to spend thirty minutes attempting Elsa, Spider-Man, and the Queen.
For the construction party, I announce that Brickhead Barry’s boss, Inspector Giggles, needs to personally inspect every LEGO structure and that Inspector Giggles absolutely loves being repeatedly asked “why?”
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that this afternoon I became Bumblesnort the Garden Fairy. My outfit included gauze wings, a tutu, and a wand that makes a tinkling sound when you wave it.
I spend two hours flitting—there is no other word for it—around a living room in Dulwich, making tinkling noises with a tiny bell while Archie narrates Bumblesnort’s “magical journey” from across the room with barely concealed glee.
The parents remain blissfully unaware that the cheerful entertainment is actually two grown men engaged in psychological warfare. The children think it’s all part of the show.
After the fairy party, we’re in the back of an Uber and I’m holding my phone up so I can use the reflective camera to pick glitter out of my eyebrows.
Archie’s got his clipboard out, pen already uncapped. His expression is focused, giving off the energy of a man about to ruin someone’s week with great enthusiasm.
That clipboard is where my dignity goes to die.
“This Wednesday is a pirate party in Clapham. I’m thinking Barnacle—”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard the full name.”
“I don’t need to. Any name you give me that starts with Barnacle is going to end with me in a barrel.”
He makes a note on his clipboard. I’m almost certain it says barrel.
“I’m out on Tuesday night,” I say. “Andrew invited me to a dinner at Vintners’ Hall.”
“Vintners’ Hall?” Archie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Which livery company?”
I blink at him. “You know what livery companies are?”
I’d never heard of them myself until I Googled after receiving Andrew’s invitation. Apparently, they are old London guilds of trades like goldsmithing and clothmaking, dating back to the Middle Ages.
“Yeah, I quite like how the British treat history like it’s a subscription service they forgot to cancel.
They don’t actually use half of it anymore, but they can’t bring themselves to get rid of it.
” He twirls his pen between his fingers.
“Like, they’ll fight to the death to preserve a medieval ceremony where a man in tights presents a fish to the Lord Mayor. ”
I huff out a laugh.
“Anyway, which livery company have you been invited to?” Archie asks.
“The Worshipful Company of Information Technologists.”
Archie opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“I’m sorry. The Worshipful Company of Information Technologists? Seriously?”
“That’s what Andrew said.”
“So someone looked at a guild structure designed for blacksmiths and candlestick-makers in the fifteenth century and thought, you know what this needs? Cloud computing.”
“It appears so.”
He’s grinning now. “You’ll need black tie.”
“Andrew mentioned that.”
“And you’ll need to look impressed by everything. These people take it very seriously.”
“I can look impressed.”
“Leo, your default expression is mild disapproval. We might need to practice.”
“My expression is fine.”
“Your expression says, ‘I’d like to speak to the manager of this entire country.’ Here—watch.”
He turns to face me fully. Eyes wide, lips parted, the expression of a man encountering something marvelous for the first time.
It’s ridiculous.
“That’s your impressed face?” I say.
“That’s my impressed face.”
“You look like you’ve been hit with a tranquilizer dart.”
He drops the expression and grins at me. “Better than looking like I’m conducting a performance review. Now you try.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Come on. Show me your impressed face.”
“This is my impressed face.”
“That’s your regular face. That’s the one you make when someone tells you the printer’s jammed. We need at least forty percent more awe.”
He’s still looking at me with those wide eyes. There’s glitter caught in his hair from the fairy party, a smear of something sparkly along his jaw that he’s missed.
I rearrange my features into something I hope conveys wonder and not indigestion.
Archie studies me.
“That’s maybe fifteen percent more awe. But I’ll take it.”
“Generous of you.”
“I’m a generous person. And I’m committed to your continued improvement.”
I really don’t want to think about what aspects of me have improved since I started spending time with Archie.
Archie is right. The British have apparently never met a medieval tradition they didn’t want to preserve, polish, and serve canapés at.
When I arrive at the livery dinner, I’m announced by the Beadle, a man in ceremonial robes whose job, as far as I can tell, is to stand at the entrance and say people’s names very loudly while holding an ornamental mace. It’s like a bouncer, if bouncers had been to finishing school.
“Mr. Leo Brennan, guest of Mr. Andrew Yates!”
The other day, I was Bumblesnort the Garden Fairy. Tonight, I’m in black tie as a guest of the Worshipful Company of Information Technologists.
The cognitive dissonance is remarkable.
After shaking hands with the Master of the Worshipful Company of Information Technologists, I accept a glass of champagne from a passing server and try to orient myself.
Vintners’ Hall is all dark wood paneling and chandeliers that probably require their own insurance policy.
I take a sip of champagne as my phone beeps.
Archie
Important question. Can you touch your toes? The caterpillar costume for Saturday requires a certain degree of flexibility and I need to manage the client’s expectations.
I look around the room full of three centuries of oil paintings and then back at my phone.
Why would a caterpillar need to touch its toes?
It’s a Very Hungry Caterpillar party. The caterpillar has to curl into a cocoon at the end. It’s the emotional climax of the show. The children cry if the cocoon isn’t convincing.
I’m not curling into a ball on the floor in front of children.
You say that now. But when twenty four-year-olds are chanting “cocoon, cocoon, cocoon,” you’ll fold. Literally.
I laugh out loud at that before the next message bounces onto my phone.
What’s your head circumference, by the way? The antennae headband is one-size-fits-most, but your head strikes me as potentially outside the “most” range.
My head is a normal size.
That’s what everyone with an abnormally large head says.
“Leo! You made it.”
I stash my phone hastily in my pocket and turn to see Andrew approaching me with a wide smile. He’s accompanied by a very good-looking man with golden hair.
When they reach me, Andrew pushes his glasses back onto his nose.
“Uh, you remember Justin, don’t you?”
“Sure I do. Although you do have slightly more clothes on than you did when I first met you,” I say dryly.
Justin gives a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, the dress code for tonight requires more than just a towel.”
“Yes, apparently these people have rules about bow tie colors.”
“I saw that.”
“So, how’s the jet lag?” I ask, knowing they only flew back from America yesterday.
“Not too bad. We slept a bit on the plane.” Justin sneaks a smile at Andrew that makes me wonder what else they got up to on the private jet back from Texas.
But then, I’m fairly sure I don’t want to know the answer to that.
“So, are you going to fill me in on what happened with Vaughn’s brother?” Andrew asks.
“Ah. Yes. That.” I clear my throat. Then clear it again when words don’t magically appear.
What the hell can I say? How can I explain that my life has been completely upended in the last few weeks, and I’m currently spending the majority of my time either dealing with unruly dogs or even unrulier party-going children?
“It’s an evolving situation,” I say finally.
Andrew’s eyes fly up. “Evolving in what way?”
“Let’s just say there was a small mishap, which led to Vaughn’s brother’s ankle being injured, so I’ve had to step in and help him with his businesses.”
“What are his businesses?”
“Dog walker and children’s entertainer.”
Andrew splutters on his mouthful of champagne. “You’ve been dog walking and entertaining children?”
“I’ve just been providing some practical assistance,” I say.
“Practical assistance? Please tell me exactly what this practical assistance entails.” Andrew grins.
I can only imagine how Andrew’s grin would widen if he’d seen the things that have unfolded between Archie and me over the last few days.
“I’d rather not elaborate,” I say.
Andrew’s mouth twitches. “So, what’s Vaughn’s brother like?”
How can I describe Archie Mansley? Are there any words in the English language capable of summing him up?
He’s playful. He’s smart. He’s kind. He’s…
“He’s not what I expected,” I say finally.
Andrew’s eyebrows rise. He waits.
“He’s nothing like Vaughn,” I continue. “I mean, he looks like him, but that’s where it stops. And there’s something about him that doesn’t add up. He’s been living in a bedsit despite the fact that the Mansleys have serious money.”
“Maybe he’s estranged from his family.”
“Maybe.”
Thinking about Archie gives me the urge to check my phone to see if he’s sent me any more messages.
Sure enough, Archie has sent me a series of caterpillar emoji, followed by a butterfly emoji, followed by a single word: Believe.
I have to cough to cover the laugh that wants to escape my throat.
When I look back at Andrew, he’s studying me with a speculative expression. “It’s not like you to be addicted to your phone.”
I put my phone in my pocket. “I’m expecting a client email.”
“At nine-thirty on a Tuesday night?”
“My clients are in different time zones.”
Luckily, we’re interrupted then, cutting short Andrew’s scrutiny.
“Leo, great to see you.”
It’s Augustus Wilson, one of my clients who runs a very successful network security company.
“Hi, Gus. You know Andrew, don’t you? And this is Justin.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Gus says, shaking Justin’s hand.
At first glance, Gus comes across like any other tech entrepreneur.
But there’s something guarded about him that I’ve never quite been able to crack.
His piercing blue eyes take in everything and give away nothing.
He always speaks carefully, like every word has been preapproved by some internal committee, and he has a habit of pausing just a beat too long before answering questions.
“So, what brings you to London?” I ask.
“The person I’m seeing lives here, so I’ve just popped over the pond for a surprise visit,” he says.
I try to hide my surprise. Despite having worked with Gus for a year, I’ve learned approximately three personal facts about him, and one of those was his coffee order. I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, let alone in a long-distance relationship.
“Unfortunately, they’ve actually gone on a trip to Italy, so it’s been a wasted trip.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.”
“I know. The first time in my life I do something spontaneous, and it backfires on me.” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but I can see the tension in his jaw. Gus is not a guy who likes for plans to go astray.
“What about you? What brings you to London?” he asks.
“Just seeing some clients.” I don’t mention that I moved my trip forward because I thought Andrew might need me over here, only to turn up and discover that he’d chased after Justin to America, or how I’m currently spending most of my time prancing around in a unicorn onesie.
There are some facts you should keep to yourself.
“And what about you?” He turns his attention to Andrew. “Have you got any new projects on the horizon?”
“I’m still working on some ideas. I came over here just for a visit, but now I plan on remaining in London indefinitely.” Andrew directs a smile at Justin.
I blink. This is news to me.
Andrew and I haven’t had a heart-to-heart conversation yet about exactly what happened in America and how he and Justin managed to resolve everything.
But as the evening unfolds, I realize I don’t need one.
Because as we go through the ritual toast and hymns, I watch Andrew and Justin together. The way Justin’s hand finds the small of Andrew’s back without looking. The way Andrew tilts toward him during conversations like gravity has quietly rearranged itself around one person.
I’ve known Andrew a long time, and I’ve never seen him look like this. Settled. Like all those jagged edges have finally been smoothed away.
And given how they began—with Andrew attempting to get revenge on Justin for four years of high school torment, for being the popular jock who made the nerdy kid’s life miserable—it’s remarkable they’re even in the same room, let alone looking at each other like this.
Not that I can criticize anything, given the current state of my revenge plan.
But even watching Andrew and Justin, even with all the fascinating pomp and circumstance going on, as the dinner proceeds, I’m itching with impatience.
And suddenly I realize what the problem is.
I can’t wait to get home to Archie and debate Very Hungry Caterpillar costumes.
Because there is one thing I didn’t confide to Andrew, and I have no intention of sharing with anyone.
I haven’t had this much fun in years. Possibly ever.