“As opposed to breaking your ribs when you rescue an idiot’s phone? Are you feeling all right? I could take you to a hospital. Maybe we should have called the police.”
“And tell them what?” Newt said quickly. “I’m fine.” He ached but…
“Do you have family around here?”
Newt tensed slightly and hoped this sharp guy hadn’t noticed. “No. They live in Essex. Well, they used to. I don’t know if they still do. We’re not in touch. They didn’t like that I was gay.”
It was a convenient semi-lie. Probably Phelan wouldn’t have minded.
“I’m sorry. People can be shits. When it’s your own family… Very sad.”
“What do you do?” Newt asked.
“I find people work. Before you get your hopes up, I’m atheatrical agent. I act as a liaison between artists and employers. I find and suggest clients for roles in film, theatre, TV and adverts.”
Newt chuckled. “I can’t act. I can’t think of anything worse.”
“It makes a refreshing change to speak to someone who has no interest in performing. Though you have the face for it.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“You know it was. You’re a good-looking young man. I told you that you were cute.”
Newt wondered what was going on. He wasn’t used to being complimented about anything. Still, he was drinking a cup of decent coffee, he had a biscuit to eat, he was warm and he had nowhere he needed to be. The book about Romans in the library could wait. Talking to someone he wasn’t hoping to impress was a novelty.
“What happened with your last job?” Max asked. “Why did you leave it?”
“I worked in a kitchen until a few weeks ago, but wasn’t keen on some of the people I worked with. I decided on a change of scenery and moved south.”
“With no job to go to?”
“I thought I had one but it didn’t pan out.”
Max chuckled. “Was that a pun?”
Newt let him think so and smiled.
“You can cook?”
“Not anything posh but yes.”
Max leaned back in his seat and stared at him. Newt ate the biscuit. Fuck, it was delicious but too small. He was trying to eat it slowly but he’d look ridiculous trying to make it last more than two bites. He pushed the rest of it into his mouth.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Max asked.
“No.”
“Friends around here?”
“Not yet.”
“Can you drive?”
“Yes.” It had been seven years, but…
“Clean licence?”
“Yes.”
