Page 41 of Companion Required
Chapter Eighteen
Kieran
Kieran took a hesitant step through the ship’s club lounge door—a circular aluminium frame designed like a ship’s portal—into the kaleidoscopic room. Mid-afternoon and the Underdeck Club had only a scattering of shadowy figures, most passengers preferring the fun found above deck. Like the aftermath of an all-night party, nobody danced. Few even moved, and those that did, did so in slow motion. Most languished around tall bar tables or lounged against the club’s mirrored walls trying to perfect nonchalance or practiced boredom. Like bookends, two silhouettes of similar height stood together, leaning back on their elbows against the long pink-backlit bar, legs crossed at the ankles, staring out at the empty dance floor. Light chill-out music oozed from the speakers, repetitive and hypnotic, ethereal synthesizers with an ever-present and underlying beat. Mirror balls rotated slowly, sending multi-coloured constellations onto every surface. Combined with the gentle rolling motion of the ship, Kieran felt like throwing up.
Even in the gloom, he spotted Kennedy. Sitting hunched forward on the bottom step where three shallow stairs dropped to the frosted vinyl dance floor, he held his head stiffly aloft, elbows on knees, hands pressed together in front of his mouth as though in silent prayer. Kieran could tell by his tense shoulders and the way he glared angrily out across the open space that his mood had not improved. Laurie had texted him about the argument after being tipped-off by Joey, but she’d given him no details. A bottle of Heineken sat beside Kennedy. For a moment he thought he saw him talking to himself, but decided instead that he was chewing the inside of his mouth, a nervous habit Kieran had noticed a couple of times. He caught himself when a sudden wave of compassion mixed with affection flooded him. Kennedy would hate both.
A few single guys stood or sat nearby, but none seemed interested. Or perhaps they also sensed his turmoil. Then again, maybe someone his age needed to make the first move. Kieran had no idea how the whole gay hook-up thing worked. But for a bloke in his early forties, Kennedy was definitely in good shape. Kieran thought about his Uncle Angelo, his father’s brother, at forty-nine. Couch potato boozer with bald head, saggy arse, swollen belly and multiple chins. Luckily for Kieran, he had his mother’s genes. And Kennedy Grey was an inspiration, an aspiration even.
For a second, Kieran thought about turning around, heading back to the cabin and leaving the man to his pain. Any attempt at sympathy would be snubbed, that much he knew for sure. But whatever had been said in the cabin had taken its toll, and to ignore Kennedy now would be wrong. And after all, he had paid him for his companionship, so companionship he would get—whether he liked it or not. Kieran stopped on the top step to Kennedy’s right, waiting until he noticed him.
“What do you want, Kieran?” muttered Kennedy harshly, after quickly glancing around, grimacing and turning back again.
“Thought you might like some company, old man.”
“Well, I don’t,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair while glaring out across the half-empty dance floor. “If I’m lucky I might get laid. And you looming over me will only cramp my style.”
Kieran ignored him and perched himself down.
“Style? What style? You don’t have any.”
“Fuck off, Kieran.”
“No. Don’t think I will. You never know, I might get lucky myself.”
“If it’s the blonde behind the bar with the red bow tie you’re ogling, then don’t waste your time. Belinda’s a lipstick lesbian, and you don’t have a vagina.”
Kieran glanced over at the woman, who was currently wiping a glass and chatting to one of the spectres haunting the bar.
“She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
“Actually, she does. Before meeting her partner, Janine, she was married to a man for six years. Got two kids.”
Kieran mulled that over for a while before responding.
“You ever been with a woman?”
“Of course. Uni days. Even had a girlfriend for six months. Didn’t really float my boat. Obviously. Have you ever been with a guy?”
“No!”
Kieran went quiet then, remembering back to his high school days, when he and his mate, Robbie Menden, had jerked each other off in Kieran’s bedroom. Admittedly they had been drooling over Robbie’s older brother’s straight porn mag at the time, but Kieran still remembered the intense orgasm as though it were yesterday. They had purposefully avoided each other after that. But even though it had not been full-blown sex, no way was he going to share that little titbit with Kennedy. Nor the fact that, on the day Kennedy had offered him the job, he had Googled gay sex and started to get a hard-on when one guy had given the other a blow job.
“Then it’s you who doesn’t know what he’s missing. I’m sure any one of these chaps would be up to giving a good-looking bloke like you a good time.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. I, on the other hand, desperately need a shag.”
For some unexplainable reason, that statement sent a quiver of anxiety through Kieran. Maybe because he wondered if Kennedy would still want him around if he managed to shack up with someone.
“What about Simple Simon?”
“Simeon.”
“I prefer my version. You do realise he fancies you, don’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
