When the girls moved away, a short, serious-looking man in a smart dark suit approached Clifton and whispered something to him. After receiving a curt nod, the man departed. Clifton reached into his jacket pocket, drew out and unlocked his mobile phone before handing the device to Nathan.
“We need some private catch-up time. Give me your number.”
Once Nathan had finished, he handed the phone back to Clifton, who texted a message. Nathan heard a gentle ping from his jacket pocket.
“I’m throwing a dinner party next Saturday evening for like-minded people in the industry. It’s at my grandparents’ place in Mayfield that I’ve commandeered while they’re in the Caribbean. I’ve sent you an invite. I know it’s not ideal for a private catch-up, but our parties can be fun. At the very least, we might have the chance to talk without being disturbed by members of the public. And maybe we can grab some time to slip away and say hello properly—if you know what I mean? What do you say?”
Clifton cocked his head to one side and winked. The good-looking but shy boy Nathan had known ten years ago bore no resemblance to the confident man standing before him. He’d been about to accept the invitation when a heavy arm landed around his shoulders.
“We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Nate?” came a now-familiar voice.
Jaymes.
Nathan looked to the heavens and was about to shove the arm away when he noticed Clifton’s reaction. His eyebrows had drawn together dangerously, and anger flared behind his eyes. A flashback from their past hit Nathan, a memory of being witness to that expression and fiery temper when Clifton didn’t get his way.
“And you are?” asked Clifton, his previous pleasant tone gone.
“Jaymes Wynter,” said Jaymes cheerfully, holding out his free hand, bunches of leather bands dangling from his wrist. For a few short moments, Clifton stared down at the outstretched hand, giving Nathan a moment of clarity. The movie star probably employed bodyguards who looked like Jaymes.
“Jaymes is Polly’s cousin,” said Nathan.
“And Nate’s boyfriend,” said Jaymes. “He didn’t tell you?”
Chapter Five
Intervention
Before Nathan had a chance to put Clifton straight, Arlene Killroy barged into the group. Oblivious to the tension, she handed Clifton a glass of sparkling something before pulling him away to a pair of waiting guests. Jaymes had released his hold on Nathan by then but remained firmly by his side.
Seeing Arlene hogging Clifton’s attention, Nathan tried to distance himself, but Jaymes placed a hand in the middle of his back and half-pushed him across the room to where Polly tucked into a plate of sushi. She froze mid-chew on seeing Nathan’s expression.
“What the hell was that?” demanded Nathan, yanking his arm away and turning on Jaymes.
“What happened?” asked Polly.
“Saving your arse.” Jaymes picked up his pint of dark ale from the table. “And a simple thank you will do.”
“I didn’t need saving. And I can handle myself. Clifton and I go way back.”
“Is somebody going to tell me what happened?” Polly asked again, handing Nathan a fresh pint of lager.
“I was right,” said Jaymes before Nathan could answer. “Prince scumbag in the nose-snow, the wannabe movie star over there, was trying to smarm his way into your best friend’s pants. Invited him to attend some sleazy get-together, probably involving swings and collars and hardcore drugs, if his reputation is anything to go by. And all this while his partner’s away. Pure class. The man makes me want to vomit furballs.”
Nathan’s anger subsided at the word partner. He hadn’t considered that Clifton might be in a relationship. Of course a good-looking, high-profile and openly gay man like him would have a plus one, probably somebody equally well-known. Jaymes obviously knew because he glowered dangerously in Clifton's direction. All Nathan had seen the other night was the boisterous and irritating joker.
“Jaymes, I really don’t think he was—”
“Oh, come on. You cannot be that naïve. Polly and I were standing way over here andwecould tell what he was up to. Looking at you the way a lion looks at a baby zebra. Licking his fucking eyebrows. When I got to you, I was surprised I saw no saliva dripping off his chin.”
“You told him about me and Clifton?” Nathan asked Polly.
“He asked,” said Polly, sheepish now. “And, to be honest, he’s right. You did look as though you needed rescuing. Clifton always had a way of getting you to do what he wanted. But in my defence, I did tell Jaymes not to intervene.”
“What the hell does any of this have to do with either of you?”
“Done deal, buddy,” said Jaymes, who had now calmed after a good tug on his pint of stout. “You’re my cousin’s friend, which means, by extension, you’re mine. And I look out for my friends. So get used to it.”
“I don’t need looking out for.”
