Not aglance to left or right for the neighbours.Not a second'shesitation or reserve.Laurie did full honours to the moment,briefly forgetting everything but Sasha's warm mouth against his,that grape-skin heat, the soft seeking pressure of his tongue.Hereturned the gesture thoroughly, letting go with reluctance whenSasha withdrew.“Wow.”
Sashawas flushed, a little defiant.“Well?I'm in the land of the freenow, aren't I?”
“In the land of the bloody brave, too, apparently!”
Theylooked at one another.One corner of Sasha's mouth quirked up.Anysecond now they would burst out laughing at one another.There wassuch sweet normality in this that Laurie felt an avalanching urgeto confession begin.How could he hide from Sasha?No matter whatthe price, how could he live like this?“Oh, Sash.I...”
Thephone was ringing.It was the house one, its electronic purr barelyreaching him through the dusty air.Laurie could ignore it.After afew more peals it stopped, and his mobile began toshrill.
“Laurie.I love you, okay?More than my life.More thanbreathing.Leave that damn thing alone.”
Laurieswallowed dryly.Any other caller's name on the screen, he'd haveobeyed.But he had sold his soul.“It's the studio.Ican't.”
Heturned away and went to crouch on the front steps to the house.They were magnificent, one marble semicircle enclosed within thenext.Fragrant orange trees blossomed in terracotta pots.For somereason all he could think of was the fire escape outside the EastHill flat, the rusty skeleton that had creaked under his weight andSasha's when they had used to sit out there shoulder to shoulder,watching the sun go down.He could hear the crunch and rattle ofthe trains.He listened for a while to Douglas Brett, who was veryexcited.Too excited—for some time now Laurie had wondered aboutthe extravagant sets, the plot that veered to accommodate them.Heleaned his brow on his hand.When Brett paused for breath, he trieda question, knowing the answer in advance.“What about Egypt, sir?And, er...”Christ, he could barely remember.“The Druids atStonehenge?”
Helistened some more.When Brett was finished, Laurie bid him somekind of mumbled good night.That was all the response required ofhim; Brett hadn't called for his opinion or consent.He looked upat Sasha, who instead of coming to sit in any of his usual placeswhen there was space around Laurie to share—close by his side, orsometimes, shyly intimate, between his knees—was standing two coldyards away.Not even within reach.“He's going on location,” Lauriesaid.“He's scrapping everything we've done so far.Now he wants toset the whole thing in the desert.We have to go out to the Mojavewith him, three weeks at least.”
“Take me with you.”
Lauriefrowned in surprise.Sasha's face was blank now, not a trace ofpleading there.It had been more of a command.Well, fairenough—Laurie had brought him here, his sole acquaintance in aforeign land.Where else would Sasha want to be?
Laurieimagined him exposed to Wesley's sneers, to Bailey's drug-fuelledantics.To the sight of Douglas Brett posing Laurie like a plasticdoll for a soft-porn portrait shot, pushing whatever robe or togait was a little further up his thigh.In the desert he'd be luckyif he got to wear anything at all.
Then allthe real reasons crashed in on him.God, what a waste and a farce,if he'd bought Sasha into this safe haven here only to lose him inthe Mojave!Miles of exposed countryside, his only defence thestudio's laughable security, which Brett himself breached forpublicity stunts whenever he felt the need.Which couldn't keep outone soft-bodied middle-aged fan, let alone Stefan Petrica...“No,”he said, getting to his feet.“No.What would you do out there?”Anger sparked in him, and he let it, welcoming its rise, thesubstitute it provided for strength and conviction.This was allSasha's damn fault anyway.Sasha would run and desert him as he haddone before, heading danger off from him, leaving him utterlyalone.This time he wouldn't come back.“I couldn't take you.There's nothing out there, just trailers and dust.”
“All right.In that case I'd like to go back to London.”Without another word, Sasha walked past him into the house.He leftLaurie open-mouthed: he’d never have imagined that Sasha would walkoff on a fight...But of course he wouldn’t: a few seconds later hewas back, holding out a sheaf of the printed pages that had beenscattered around him on the stairs.“Do you remember Yosiri Cuza,the grocer?The one they were trying to deport?Turns out they werewaiting to get me out of the way.I discredited one of theirwitnesses—a buddy of your father’s.Colin Pearson.”He shook thepapers at Laurie, who took a helpless step back from them.“They'vechucked Cuza out, along with his wife and kids.All the evidence Ihanded in mysteriously got buried, and they let Pearson testifyafter all.Let me go home, Laurie.I want to put thisright.”
A buddy of your father’s.Laurie feltthe words like a whiplash, like accusation's sting.“It wasn't myfault,” he whispered.
Sasha'sbrow creased.“What wasn't?”
Birchwood.Mama Luna.But it had beenLaurie's fault.That was unendurable, and he snapped the blame awayfrom himself, seeking a target.“I don't know how you can be sodamn ungrateful.I've done all this for you.”
“Laurie!”
It sounded like a call in the night, Sasha's soft enquiry totheir London flat when he wasn't sure Laurie was home.Or whenLaurie was in the grip of some new role, shape-shifting,channelling men out of Shakespeare into their kitchen.Who are you being this time?
Be my Laurie for me.
Lauriecouldn't.His temper was up—not the haughty rage that crushedinjustice and defended the weak but an older thing, a rough beastthat had been waiting.Sasha's fault again: his words had conjuredit.“I brought you out here to this place—look at it!—so you couldhave a better life.I moved heaven and earth to get you here.Andnow you want to ditch me for some bloody shopkeeper?”
“A political activist,” Sasha said faintly.His voice was calmbut he couldn't have looked more astonished if Laurie had punchedhim in the face.“A good man who deserves refugee status in the UK.But if hehadbeenjust some shopkeeper, it wouldn't have made any difference.Don'tyou understand?”
“I don't understand what it's got to do with you.”The roughbeast was Sir William.There he was, smashing down Laurie's latestnew cause across the dinner table.Volunteer stage hands wanted fora charity Christmas show at St Martins?Time off from boardingschool for a sponsored walk in aid of...well, it didn’t matter;Sir William didn't believe in aid.Whatdamn business is it of yours?Laurie hadhim down pat, just like every other part he'd ever taken on.Hewanted to die.“Can't anyone else deal with it?”
“That's just it.No-one else will.Laurie, don't youdarecall meungrateful—when did I ever ask for any of this?”
“It's your home now.You belong here.”
“My home is with you, as long as you need me.You said youcouldn't do your job without me, so I came.But now you won't eventalk to me about it any more, and it's okay for you to piss off tothe desert for a month and leave me here!”
Theywere having a row in the street.This was so far from anythingLaurie could possibly have imagined for them that he almostlaughed, almost begged both of them to break down and take offtheir masks.Instead he took hold of Sasha's arm, pulled him insideand slammed the door.
His griphad been rough.Sasha broke away from him, eyes dark with betrayal.“What the fuck is wrong with you?If you ever grab me like thatagain...”
“I'm sorry, okay?But you're driving me crazy.I need you tostay here.”
“Why?Look, it'll take me a week or so to sort this out, andthen I'll come back, if you still want me to.It's not like wecan't afford the flights.”
