Читать книгу For Hire: The Intimate Adventures of a Gigolo - Luke Bradbury - Страница 7

Early March

Gray had his hand around his pint and was staring intently at the picture in the paper. He looked across at me and screwed up his eyes as if he was really taking me in, looked back down again and shook his head a couple of times. Then he picked up his beer and took a couple of gulps. Gray was playing for time, keeping me in suspense, in that way he had.

‘Come on,’ I laughed. ‘Give it to me. What do you think?’

‘It’s definitely you, all right,’ he teased, setting his glass back down on the table.

I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation. ‘I knew that! But do you think I’m likely to be found out?

That was the crux of why I’d called him up. The paparazzi shot had got under my skin, and the only person I knew who’d help me make sense of it was Gray. As the manager of my ‘Satisfaction with Luke’ website, he knew exactly what I was about. There was no having to explain myself with him.

He half whistled out of the side of his mouth. ‘That’s a hard one. It’s a possibility, of course.’

‘Isn’t everything?’ I countered, as I picked up my beer glass to take another swig.

‘True. My point is, there’s a strong chance nothing’ll happen.’

‘And if it does?’

‘Cross that bridge when you come to it, mate. And never admit guilt or shame. That’s what the bastards want, y’know.’

He set down his glass hard on the table, signalling that that was the end of it.

Gray wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t expected, or already thought about myself. But it helped to have him reflect it back to me. And to have someone listen to my worries.

Let’s face it, it wasn’t as if I could talk to my flatmates about my escort work. They were the very people I feared would find me out. It was just too early days for them to know my business and, anyhow, why should they need to? As long as I paid my bills on time and was friendly enough, surely that was all that mattered?

It was as if Gray was reading my thoughts. ‘Have the Girls seen this? They know about what you do, right?’

I nervously ran my fingernail against the table edge, filing a groove. Certainly it did concern me that the wider world might find me out. Because should I ever get mixed up in some scandal or other, there wouldn’t be too many steps between my identity being made known here in Britain and it being picked up by the expat Aussie press and beamed home for my friends and family to read. That’s not what I wanted at all.

But my more immediate worry was that Carrie and the others might find out. And where would that leave me?

‘They don’t know?’ gasped Gray, his pint held in mid-air on the way to his mouth. ‘What the fuck do they think you’re doing?’

‘Oh come on, Gray. Why the hell would I want to tell them about the escort work? I’m getting paid for sex, for God’s sake!’

He had a broad grin across his face. ‘Exactly! So what’s your problem?’

I laughed along with him. Both of us knew exactly what I was getting at. It might have been fine for us guys to make light of the way I made my living. After all, it was most blokes’ dream. But there were plenty of other people who just didn’t get it. God, in this country, most people still believed prostitution was illegal.

But it wasn’t just that. The idea of someone they knew being involved went way beyond most people’s imaginings, and I couldn’t be sure how my three female flatmates would respond to having a hooker in their midst. I didn’t want to risk things, especially so early in my tenancy. I’d only just got here. I’d hate to have all the hassle of moving out again any time too soon.

Gray was frowning, as if he’d just thought of something. ‘What do you tell them, then? Y’know, about the countless phone calls. And especially the overnighters?’

I gave him a massive grin in return. ‘I’m an Aussie guy in London, Gray. What else would I be doing?’ I raised my glass to him and we chinked like a high-five.

Not that I put it so bluntly to the Girls, of course. They raised an eyebrow at how often my BlackBerry went off, but I just shrugged it off by hinting at my amazing popularity with their compatriots out there. I’m not sure they completely believed me.

Or whether Gray was convinced, come to that.

‘And they’re OK with that?’

‘Seem to be,’ I shrugged.

He gave a low whistle through his teeth: ‘And you’re shacked up with those three too. It’s women all the way with you, isn’t it? God, I wish I was in your shoes, Luke!’

I set my half-full pint down on the table: ‘I bet you do!’

It was funny how the guys I knew made such a big deal of me being the only bloke in my flat. I mean, it wasn’t as if I didn’t have sex on tap. What difference would three more babes make to me? When I’d just moved in, just before my Aussie mates had left for home, they’d been the same as Gray. Not believing my fucking luck. None of them seemed to get that I didn’t see Carrie, Kirstie or Laura like that. They were just mates. Good fun to have around, but anything beyond that wasn’t top of my agenda.

Not that I completely ruled out a drunken fumble some time with one or other of them—a wild night that we’d look embarrassed about in the cold, hungover light of the next morning. Never say never. It wasn’t that I was planning anything of the sort. It was just…Three of them, one of me; a statistical probability at some point in the future. Surely.

But I could see where Gray was coming from. The Girls’d be certain to get curious about what I got up to some day soon. And end up asking questions I needed to have answers to.

I’d been on good terms with enough women to find out that they were open about their own relationships and sex lives amongst themselves. If I wasn’t too careful I could see myself getting caught in the crossfire—being forced to open up about my own relationship status.

But as Gray had said, Cross that bridge when you come to it.

I let out a heavy sigh. ‘God, it was so much easier when Mark and co were still in London.’

Gray got my drift immediately. ‘You miss ’em?’

‘They were me mates, y’know? Mark, Simon, even Rob knew what I got up to. I didn’t have to pretend with them…’

For a moment, Gray looked affronted: ‘You don’t have to pretend with me, mate.’

I put my palms up to face him. ‘I know, I know,’ I smiled, to show I hadn’t meant to diss our friendship, ‘but you know what I mean. They were Aussies. They knew where I came from.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

I placed my hands flat down on the table again and thought back to almost two years ago when I’d just come to London and moved in with Mark. I’d got to know the others through him and they’d turned out to be such a major part of my life in the UK. For one thing, it was our mutual lack of funds that had got me started in this escorting game in the first place. And when I wasn’t working at that or, in the early days, any other job I could find, then we were generally in each other’s pockets.

They had helped keep me grounded through the perils and pitfalls of my hookering. The guys had helped to remind me of where I came from and stopped me getting up myself, or losing myself in the wealth of my clients. I’d seen it happen to many of the other escorts. They forgot that they were only short-term guests in the rich world. The only thing they had to show for it was the expensive designer gear they’d bought into.

It had been tempting to return to Australia when my friends had, but because I’d arrived in the UK after them, I still had some time to run on my visa. And I was making good money from the escort work.

But it wasn’t just that. They had been bolstering up their CVs in a way that my work just couldn’t. I had gaps where they had jobs. And their work experience actually counted for something. I could hardly boast of my escort skills as something that I could put to good use in any other field. All the more reason for me to make as much money as I possibly could while I was here, then. So, my friends had ended up less tied to the UK and more ready to return home. I simply couldn’t. Not yet, anyhow.

I gave Gray a rueful smile. He was right. I was lucky to have someone still here who understood me. But I couldn’t help reflecting that my mates’ absence really emphasized how much I had to make things work as an escort—whether or not I kept my lifestyle close to my chest.

Still, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t help wondering if I’d made the right choice. It was difficult to gauge whether the money was really worth remaining here for. I could have been on my way home to Australia right now with the rest of the gang, beginning the rest of my life, with a new job, which might pay less than I’d grown used to but that on paper would actually count for something.

But I hadn’t, had I? I was sitting here with Gray. The Last Mate Standing.

I got up. ‘You’d like another?’

Gray nodded up at me: ‘Same again, thanks.’

I ordered our pints, and as the barman poured them I observed Gray sitting alone. He looked as out on a limb as I was beginning to feel. But it meant I was damn glad we got on so well. I had a sneaking suspicion he got a lot out of our friendship too. As a website designer, a lot of the time he was chained to his laptop, so he liked me telling him about my experiences. It was a window into a pretty alternative world to his.

For me, it wasn’t just that Gray was doing a great job managing my site. Such a great job, in fact, that he was practically my PA these days. I knew that I’d be nowhere near as successful an escort if it hadn’t been for him helping to get my presence on the Net where it mattered. Whenever anyone Googled ‘London Male Escort’ I was there, at the top of the page.

He never seemed fazed either by tales of my exploits. Which proved a fucking good thing when I needed to offload stuff. I don’t know how long you could keep going at this game without sharing details with someone of what the job involved. Or, conversely, being able to have a friendly conversation without having to mention what I’d really been doing with my life.

When I was starting out, my client Jenny had been like that for me. We’d met up for a half-hour coffee break every Friday. That seemed such a long time ago. She’d been my very first client, but I had no idea where she was or what she was getting up to these days.

I paid for the drinks and picked them up and made my way to our table. I couldn’t help wondering if Gray even realized how much he was helping me out, on so many levels.

‘I tell you what,’ I remarked as I handed him his pint and sat down.

‘What?’ he replied, taking a deep gulp of the beer.

‘I’m not saying it’s likely to happen, but if ever I can’t make a session and my clients are fine about me sending them an alternative, you’ll be the first person I’ll call on.’

Gray sat there, mouth open, utterly amazed. It struck me that it had never crossed his mind. That he’d been happy enough beavering away on the sidelines, setting up my goals. That that was where his strengths lay, and he got kicks enough just from hearing about what I’d got up to.

‘You’d do that?’

He looked worried—a far cry from how cool he was when dealing with the concrete stuff of his web design. He reminded me of how nervous I’d been before I’d had my first call-out.

Wouldn’t most guys be? It was one thing to be an escort in your head. Quite another to go out for the first time not knowing who you were going to meet. And fearful that you might not be able to perform when the crunch came. How humiliating would that be? How much easier not to offer your services. Remain the backroom boy.

I back-pedalled to put him at his ease again. ‘I was only joking,’ I laughed.

He gave me a quizzical look, but his shoulders visibly relaxed. ‘Thought so!’ he lied. His paw was tight round his pint, like he was steadying himself.

‘But should a regular client ever be open to the idea of using a replacement, I’ll definitely mention your name,’ I winked.

He chuckled, now aware of my joshing. ‘Thanks for that, mate.’ We both sank our pints.

There. I’d set him thinking about being an escort. What was the betting that, down the line, he’d find himself thinking that actually he wouldn’t mind giving it a go after all? And that he’d be kicking himself too for having missed his chance. Which would mean I could do him that favour after all, should the opportunity arise. And that time, he’d be ready to accept.

I put down my empty glass and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand.

Gray tapped his fingers on the table, relaxed now. ‘That reminds me. I got a call before I came out. Remember Pearl Agency?’

That put a smile on my face: ‘Oh yes, my friend!’

Didn’t I just? I’d been the only guy in their stable of hot babes, but they’d dropped my pic from their home page because it unnerved some of their male clients. The last thing they wanted to see was me among all those girls.

‘Seems you’re still in demand from those high rollers of theirs. There’s some big-shot guy who wants to hire you.’

‘You’re supposed to say that I don’t do gay stuff,’ I groaned.

Gray rolled his eyes but there was a glint there too. ‘He’s straight, stupid. Apparently there’ll be a couple of Pearl’s girls along for the ride too.’

‘What, we’re putting on a show for him? That sounds much better!’

Gray shook his head and chuckled: ‘God, Luke, you have one hell of a jammy life!’

I said nothing and simply gave him a salute, grinning.

‘Oh, and this shows how major this client is. Apparently you’ll know him the moment you walk through the door,’ reported Gray. ‘That’s what the Pearl girl said, anyhow. And you’re under strict instructions not to let on to anyone who he is either.’

It was my turn to look mock-affronted. ‘Of course.’ I’d learnt a thing or two about client confidentiality by now.

We sat in silence for a few seconds.

‘No, but who do you think he is?’ I quizzed.

Gray laughed. ‘I knew you were going to say that. I can’t help you, I’m afraid. I’m as in the dark as you are.’

I whistled through my teeth. ‘God, if he’s as famous as they’re making out, then that cuts down the list quite considerably.’

Gray drained the dregs of his beer. ‘You think so?’ he asked.

I nodded. ‘Must be. I mean, there are celebs and there are Celebs with a capital C. This guy could be a major footballer or pop star or something.’

Gray was looking directly and deadpan at me. ‘You make sure you get a signed photo for me then, eh?