‘Dead body in the park.’
‘God. What happened?’
‘He didn’t say.’
My mouth is completely dry; I feel like speaking would choke me. We walk off, and Gavin turns their face to mine and really takes me in. ‘Are you OK? You’re awful peely-wally.’
I move my tongue around in my mouth to create some moisture. None comes.
Gavin talks for me. ‘It’s because of Colin, isn’t it? You’ve done such a brilliant job of being strong about finding him, but I bet this is bringing some stuff up.’
Moving in the direction of the office, Gavin hooks their arm through mine and leads me away. I am touched they believe I am so sensitive and caring about a person I did not know, that they believe me to possess kindness. Their touch reignites my earlier horniness. ‘Let’s keep walking, I’m not ready to go back to work.’
‘Me neither.’ Gavin turns us up a side street, and I’m not sure if they did this on purpose but once we’re alone we look at one another and I know they want what I want. It’s a surprise I can recognise this so clearly, with no doubt, no hesitation, in my current frantic state. I don’t take a moment to confirm I haven’t got the wrong end of the stick, don’t spend a second questioning why a very hot person would lower themself to be attracted to me. I accept this for what it is, what I am owed. I raise myself up, pull their head towards me and kiss them, our tongues meeting, my mouth no longer dry. The new version of myself fully birthed.
14
Hamilton is the ninth-largest town in Scotland, so you’d think that was a big enough place, but it’s not. News travels fast here. If you’re in tenth and below, I actually dread to think how hard maintaining a private life must be. I’m not thinking this because of the kiss, by the way. Me and Gavin have rearranged ourselves, wiped one another from our lips and calmed down enough to get back to work. The reason I’m dwelling on Hamilton’s size is because, as soon as we get back to the office, Brian knows about the body and whose it is.
I’m still on the street, one foot on the pavement, the other on the grey carpet tiles of the office, Gavin in front of me, my eyes lined up to their back. I can’t even see Brian when he shouts, ‘Willie the Wanker is dead.’
Once I’m inside properly I find Brian leaning back in my chair, his feet crossed on the corner of my desk, holding one of the little European lagers he stores in the communal fridge, alongside champagne, for special occasions. Willie’s death is worthy of some celebration, but not the popping of a cork.
Gavin removes their jacket next to their desk. I make a conscious choice not to look over, not to glance at their trousers to see if they are still as aroused as I am. It wouldn’t do to appear lusty when a death is being discussed, not when I have playing dumb to do. ‘Jesus, what is happening today? There’s been a body found in the park, too.’
Brian looks very pleased as this cues him up nicely to reveal: ‘That dead body and Willie are one and the same. Word on the street, well, from my wife, is that he had an accident, fell into the river that runs through the park and drowned.’
Gavin absorbs the information and I pretend to. They place their coat over the back of their chair, settle into their seat. I hover over my desk, eyeing the precarious position Brian has put himself in, his feet dangerously close to the glass of water I pour each morning, determined to be better hydrated, and then never drink more than a few sips of throughout the day.
‘How did Leanne find all this out?’ Gavin asks. I notice they’re not looking at me either, their gaze solidly on Brian. This sixth sense I’ve developed with Gavin since Willie’s death continues. I am confident it is residual horniness and not regret keeping their eyes away from me.
‘She’s pals with Willie’s wife. She rang her in some state after the police had been round.’ Brian swigs his beer, revealing the twist in the tale which has led to him celebrating. ‘The best bit is he’s not finished the paperwork to leave us. So after all his screaming and shouting, AAA get nothing and we keep our sweet, sweet commission.’
Gavin makes a sound from the back of their throat, then says, ‘The best bit? A man is dead and you’ve found the “best bit” before he’s even cold.’ For the first time since our kiss Gavin looks at me, seeking backup. Their wide eyes ask,Can you believe him?
Unluckily for them, I can believe him, and for obvious reasons I’m not sad at all. ‘I’m sure it’s really awful for his family, but he wasn’t a great human, was he?’
Brian takes this as a win. ‘See, Jemma gets it.’ He nods his bottle towards me in recognition. ‘You can have a wee lager to pay our respects to a not-great human.’
He doesn’t need to tell me I can drink at work twice. I’m off as soon as he says a beer is mine. ‘What about you, Gavin? Fancy one?’
‘Whoah, Gavin is not permitted a drink until they acknowledge Willie was a wanker.’
Looking at Brian resolutely, they sigh. ‘Well, obviously he was a knob. That doesn’t stop it being sad.’
The addition of sadness doesn’t convince me Brian will relent, but he does. ‘We’ll have to agree to disagree, Gav – you are now permitted your beer.’
The office kitchen resembles every other office kitchen in the world: bad strip lighting, a sad little fridge, a microwave that hums of reheated curries from years ago. Bending down to the fridge, I catch a whiff of a new smell from my skin. It’s floral and sweet – Gavin’s perfume has transferred onto me from our kiss. I bite my lip to stop myself from smirking, pick two of the beers from the back of the shelf and am getting off my haunches when Brian shouts through, ‘While you’re there, can you get me another?’
When we each have a bottle in our clutches, Brian prompts a toast: ‘To Willie’s accident, another perfect property solution.’ After he raises the bottle to his lips he’s unable to drink as he’s laughing to himself at his funny, funny toast.
Gavin finds it less amusing. ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t be toasting this turn of events, Brian. That’s two landlords you’ve lost over the course of two weeks. If they keep dying at this rate you’ll be managing zero properties by the new year.’
Brian slams his bottle down. ‘That’s an interesting point. I don’t think anyone we work with has died before and then two at once. That’s mad, isn’t it?’
Not wanting us to linger on this topic, I try to get us back on track for a celebratory mood. ‘Statistically, someone had to die eventually. It’s good news the properties stay here.’
Brian doesn’t fall in line with what I want to happen, though. ‘It’s you, Jemma. That’s what the change has been. Colin was always an idiot doing his shitey repair jobs, but the one that killed him was Jemma’s. Then she speaks to Willie that day he came to take me out to dump me, and now he’s deid. Jemma’s the new thing.’
