“I didn’t speak up either,” I started. “Maybe I should have. Questioned what on earth was going on. It was quite clear you were uncomfortable.”
I had no idea what I was talking about.
“And you looked like you had a panic attack. Something was way off.”
“And we’re still sat here waiting for someone to come in and admit that this was a huge mistake?” I wasn’t quite with it.
“Perhaps it’s not. Oh God. I have no idea what I asked for in a partner. They asked so many questions. I said I just wanted someone nice. That looks didn’t matter.”
“I’m sure they asked about what gender.”
“I talked a lot about my wife.”
“You’re married?” I shrieked.
No chill. Zero. Oh for heaven’s sake.
“You alright there, gents?”
Well, I had been, the lump in my throat back with anxious vengeance, the production person in the woolly hat just standing there staring at us, as I weirdly rolled myself up to a sitting position. My hair everywhere, my lungs screaming as I took in air. Blew it out.
“All good,” Granddad said calmly. Peter. He’d said Peter. A granddad’s name.
“Well, let us know if you need anything.” He backed out the door as if to leave. “I’ll come back for you when we’re ready for the group segment.”
“Two cups of tea?” Peter suggested. Like this was normal. For the record? No. Not normal.
“Help yourself. Kitchen’s outside, just don’t get in the way; Gina is still filming. Hey, scrap that, I’ll get someone to bring them to you.”
“Milk?”
I was numb.
“Do you take milk, Oliver?”
“Like…in my tea?”
See? I’d morphed straight back to toddlerhood. Again.
“Milk,” I said.
Fuck my life. Sideways.
Chapter 7
Peter
Ihad to stop questioning everything, and most of all? I had to stop playing along with this complete farce of a… I had to stop. Right now.
The cups of tea handed through the door were poured in vegetable-based paper cups, or at least that’s what the bright logo screamed. They were also lukewarm. I still drank it, big gulps of caffeine goodness that still did nothing to make me function better. I was just a limp blob back on the floor next to this guy who had ripped off his bow-tie and loosened the buttons on his dress shirt. A shirt and tie. Seriously. Whoever was running this freak show needed to take a seat and calm down. Several seats, actually.
“Take the jacket off,” I suggested, as he whipped his head around and glared at me.
“Not like that, mate.” I smiled. “Just a…what did you call me? Granddad here. I have no intention of being anything but just… Did I just mess up again? I need to mind my words here before I get my very own headline in the papers.”
“Shows you’re old. This show is all web-based. There’s an interactive site and everything. Social media. Viewer votes.”
“What does that even mean? People send us messages, or what?”
