Page 1 of Compulsion

Chapter One

IT WAS the usual fierce Saturday night debate. Not the one on TV where the studio audience harasses the politician about fraudulent expense claims or there’s a juicy sex scandal with a reality show celebrity. No, this was the one in real life, in the flat where I was living, where the bossy gay landlords try to persuade the equally gay but far less social houseguest to go clubbing with them.

“For God’s sake! If you could only see the look on your face.” Louis stood opposite me in the living room, his hands on his hips, his black trousers clinging low on his slim waist. “You’d think we were asking you to eat your own flesh. It’s just one night out, Max, one night among all the others you’ve wasted since you moved in. We’re in Brighton, the south coast’s center of gay nightlife, right? You’ll have a great time.”

“Sure,” I said. It was never worth raising your voice to Louis. “Another time.”

He rolled his kohl-lined eyes. “No. This time. They’ve got the new lights working on the stage at Compulsion tonight, and I want us all to be there for the show. I want you to be there.”

“You’re pouting, love.” Jack stepped beside him, smiling. “Not that it isn’t cute, but you’re more than a few years off teenager by now.” He put his arm around Louis’s waist at the same time and squeezed him affectionately.

Louis flushed, but his expression was determined. “So you tell him, Jack. Tell him he needs to enjoy himself, he needs to loosen up a bit and get back into life. He needs—”

“To get out more.” I spoke quickly and, despite my smile, a little wearily. “Yeah, you’ve said that before.” I caught Jack’s sympathetic gaze over Louis’s shoulder. His watchful eyes saw far more of me than I liked. His dark-brown fingers rested comfortably against Louis’s pale skin where his lover’s satin shirt failed to meet the waistband of his trousers. They were a committed couple and very relaxed together, at least at home. Louis would have been happy to demonstrate their relationship a lot more in public, but Jack remained fairly discreet. Part of that was his own character, and part of it was caution because he worked at a forensic science service company that didn’t seem to like its employees having a social life at all, let alone an alternative one. Tonight Jack’s hands tightened on Louis and the blond smiled slyly, just for Jack. Yeah, part of it was just that Jack disliked sharing.

I tried my usual excuses. “I’m dog-tired, that’s all. I did extra shifts at the site this week and I need some sleep. Plus, those places just remind me I’m not really drinking at the moment. And it’s not like I can dance.”

Louis lifted his elegantly shaped eyebrows. “Dear God, next he’s going to say he has nothing to wear.”

My turn to roll my eyes. “Look, guys, you know how grateful I am you put me up, but you don’t have to sort out a social life for me as well. I’m good just as I am.”

There was a moment’s silence as they both looked at me.

“Yes, of course,” Louis said in a tone that implied the complete opposite.

“Max, he has a point,” Jack said. “You’ve been a social hermit for months. You never used to be so quiet. You enjoyed clubbing and parties.”

“And men—” Louis winced as Jack pinched him. “Well, you did! I haven’t seen you date anyone more than once for months.”

“It’s not a crime.” Louis didn’t notice my sharp tone, but Jack did, and his eyes narrowed.

“Just come out for an hour or so, okay? We’ll catch a cheap pizza at Luigi’s on the promenade, then go and see what they’ve done with the décor at Compulsion. It’s not that seedy old place we used to scam our way into after school. No more sticking to the spilled beer on the carpet, no cracked glasses, no broken urinals and that hideous yellow lighting. It’s been bought out by a national chain and gone seriously upmarket.” Louis was wheedling. On him, it had a certain naïve charm. “You can leave straight afterwards. You don’t have to dance. You don’t even have to stay for the show.”

“But Louis is dancing,” Jack added quickly. “Just a couple of places below top billing this time. It’s a real opportunity for him. You’ll want to see that, won’t you?” His eyes shone with pride, making it obvious he couldn’t imagine anyone would want to miss it.

I sighed and smiled. “Is that a condition of my tenancy agreement?”

Jack frowned. “You know there’s nothing like that, Max. Shit, I wouldn’t even charge you rent if you didn’t make such a bloody fuss—”

“Joke!” I held up a hand in surrender. Dammit, I couldn’t even pitch my humor right nowadays. “Jack, Louis, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t offered me the room, if you hadn’t coped with me turning up on your doorstep at some godforsaken hour of the night with nothing but a bag of clothes and a couple of quid left over from the bus ticket.”

“So?” Louis made a show of looking at his watch.

“I’ll go and get changed,” I said, grinning.

They lived in a small house in Kemptown, built in the 1950s and now converted into two flats. They had the upper floor, which included a small attic. That’s where my room was, in the eaves of the building, up a short flight of stairs from the other rooms. There was just enough space for a single bed, a chest of drawers for my clothes, and a small sink against one wall. Since it wasn’t really big enough for a guest bedroom, they’d been using it as Jack’s home office, I think. The night after I arrived, I caught him shifting a pile of boxes that were full of files and papers, but he insisted it was just a room they used for storage: I was ostensibly doing him a favor by occupying it. In those days, the only furniture was a desk, a chair, and an old couch with ripped covers, but they cleared it all out and brought in a bed shortly after. Louis said it was a friend’s castoff, but it looked suspiciously new. I bought myself a small secondhand TV and DVD player, and I’d stayed there ever since. Occasionally I talked about looking for my own place, but they always changed the subject and served up something particularly good for supper that night. To tell you the truth—and nothing to do with the food—I didn’t have much appetite to go out on my own.

I was shrugging into my shirt when there was a quiet knock from the landing outside. That was Jack. I zipped up my jeans and opened the door to him.

His eyes flickered up and down. “Purple suits you.”

I grimaced. “It’s not like I have a lot of smart stuff to choose from.” Working on a construction site didn’t call for formal clothing, and as for going out on the town—well, I’d just been through that with the guys, hadn’t I?

Jack nodded. He was a couple of inches taller than me and far more stockily built. He leaned toward me, his eyes fixed on mine. “If I say you look good, you do.”

“Sure.” I laughed. “I know you’re not coming on to me when you already have your own pretty boy.”

Jack didn’t laugh back, though we often teased each other that way. Or at least, we used to. But he wasn’t angry either. He just looked… concerned. “Give it up, Max.”