“Arnold said she went home sick.I dunno.I think I might’vedone something to upset her.”
“You?You’re her saint and angel.You can do nowrong.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”Laurie shivered in the warm nightair.Maybehecould do no wrong, but Bertram could think of a thousand waysto hurt a girl, a thousand neglects and betrayals.Bertram coiledand twitched in Laurie’s mind, a cold ghost, persistent despiteSasha’s exorcism.“Speaking of Arnold, let’s get out of here beforehe catches me up.I don’t want to hear he’s already traded me offto play a loveable, sexy Goneril in King Lear.”
“Too late.”Sasha had observed more than just pigeons andHungarians from his roost.“I think he’s cut us off at thepass.”
Sureenough, here he came, cannoning back down the alley towards them.“Right!”he yelled.“Laurence, it’s all right.Your cab will meetyou here.”
Lauriefrowned in bewilderment.“I can hail my own cab.”
“Not on Shaftesbury tonight, darling.Don’t know if it’slast-night fever or just your pheromones, but there’s a wholecattery of yowling girls blocking your exit.You ought to get acar.”
“Where would I park it?”
“And adriver,darling.”
“Oh, for God’s...”Laurie gave it thought—not the absurdconcept of a chauffeur, which was a thing from his father’svanished world—but the girls.He had no problem signing theatreprogrammes, chatting to a handful of kids about how they likedShakespeare and whether or not they’d catch the last Tube home.“How many cats go to make up a cattery?”
“Fifteen at least.Twenty, maybe.”
Well, that was more than a handful.Whoops of mockingadmiration began to arise from theAll’sWellplayers.Even the starriest among themseldom pulled down more than a dozen, not here in the restrainedtheatrical West End.Laurie waved the racket away, grinning.“Okay.I’ll take the cab.I’m a bit disappointed, though, Arnie—allqueens?No toms?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Am I only attracting girls with my pheromones?”
A shadowof displeasure crossed Arnold’s face.It was so brief that neitherLaurie nor Sasha had time to analyse it, covered an instant laterby his usual agreeable mask.“Yes, and a damn good thing.In thosecircumstances, the toms would be queens too, if you see what Imean.”
It wasso blatant that, for a moment, Laurie didn’t see at all.Then henoticed that Kenneth had stopped in mid-arrangement of his fuchsiasatin scarf and was staring at the manager in disbelief.Laurieliked Kenneth.He liked, for that matter, most of the forty percentof cast and crew he was fairly sure were gay, and best of all heliked Sasha, whose face had acquired that peculiar Romani stillnesswhich meant he was startled but still processing, willing to givethe offender the benefit of the doubt.
Laurence, son of Baronet William Fitzroy, never gave anyonethe benefit of anything, not where civil liberties were concerned.He drew himself up.In the crisp accents he normally reserved forJB Priestley roles—his own by nature, though he tended to mutethem, not wishing to sound like a caricature of his class— heenquired of Arnold, “Was that a joke?”
Arnoldpaled.Laurie had hired him only a few months ago, when Equity hadfinally convinced him that so promising a career neededprofessional guidance and nurturing.Arnold was aware that he hadbeen chosen based on the first business card Laurie had seen.Easycome, easy go...And where the devil had that blue-eyed,blue-blooded knight of the realm sprung from?“Er, no,” he replied,then when Laurie’s expression darkened further still, correctedhimself hastily.“I mean yes, of course.And a very bad one.Nooffence, everyone.”
Theatrepeople were harder to offend than that.Laurie, unless his bloodwas running sapphire in his veins, was hard to offend at all, andhe promptly broke into a grin.“None taken, I’m sure.Sash, do youforgive him?”
“Perhaps my poor English prevented me from getting the joke atall.”
Lauriesnorted and shot him an appreciative look.Then, to Sasha’sastonishment, he wrapped an arm tight round his waist, pulled himin and planted on his mouth a kiss of such tender, carnal passionthat Sasha went still as a startled hare in his grasp.
He hadnever done anything like it before, not outside of their Bloomsburyflat—Sasha’s home and castle, the sanctum where every sexualdelight was not only permitted but pursued, up stairways and downwarmly carpeted halls.God knew there’d been times when Sasha wouldhave liked such a gesture in front of the glitterati crowd, just areminder to them that his beautiful lover was only a publiccommodity on stage.He didn’t mind it now.Mind?His spine wasmelting.He kissed back, fiercely, proudly, giving it hisall.
He justdidn’t know why Laurie had chosen this moment.He eased away whenLaurie did, watching him intently.Had it been to prove a point toArnold?Nothing wrong with that if so, only...
The taxiroared up over the cobbles, scattering the players, who had enjoyedthis demonstration even better than the news of Laurie’s fan cluband were cheering him on.They were so vivid and lovely in theirdesigner rags, ready to dance around the neon fires of London untildawn.Sasha felt the plainness of his business suit, the weight ofhis satchel on his back.He grabbed Laurie’s arm.“Look, it’s yourlast night.Sure you don’t want to go off and celebrate properlywith this lot?”
“Would you come too?”
“Me—oh, God, no.I just meant...”
“I know what you meant.”Laurie pulled open the taxi’s backdoor, blew Arnold a lascivious kiss and waved to his colleagues.“You meant to deprive me of my Thai green curry, my Netflix and myMartin Shaw.”He held the door courteously, spoiling the gesturewith a push that sent Sasha tumbling in wholesale, laughing andswearing at him in Romani.
Thebright crowd receded behind them.At the junction with Shaftesbury,Sasha caught a glimpse of Laurie’s acolytes—a blur of faces findingsudden focus at the sight of the cab.Yes, about twenty of them...Their swift group movement disconcerted Sasha.There was a greed init he had only seen in the mahala, when someone tried to sneak aconsignment of black-market food or liquor into that ghetto world.He was glad when the cabbie found an unlikely gap in the trafficand pulled away.He turned to Laurie.“Bloody hell.What will I donow you’re a proper star, with screaming fans and...”
Once more Laurie changed the subject—changed everything—with akiss.This time Sasha had no doubt of his motives.He closed agentle grip around the back of Sasha’s skull, looked at him as ifhe were the only living creature on the planet, feathered his lipsonce across Sasha’s in a sweet familiarquestion—is it okay,love?—and because Sasha had never said noto him, because it was always okay, they drew together hungrily.Yes, this was just Laurie being his own loving self, lighting thefires that burned more brightly the longer he and Sasha livedtogether.The only difference was the setting—the driver up front,a thin wall of glass to shield them instead of their own fourwalls.
Sashatried not to like it.He shouldn’t have, he knew.He valued hisprivacy dearly and was sure the cabbie didn’t need his working dayenhanced by such a scene in his rearview mirror.Closing his eyes,he remembered a shy boy from two years ago who’d knelt over him inthe empty carriage of a westbound Tube, courage clasped tight inboth hands for a first public kiss.Sasha had stopped himeventually, but only because it hadn’t been safe.The world hadbeen full of wolves, and Sasha had had to look out for both ofthem.
