Laurie had been with the group in Hanoi, and would usually have sampled the street fare, but her strict diet meant abstaining—luckily for her. Kieran had declined this particular excursion, preferring to stay onboard and keep Kennedy company.
Kennedy sighed. Not only had they all been invited to the drinks party in the early afternoon—and he felt a duty to make a show—but this was the evening of the captain’s table event, where he and Steph were supposed to strut their stuff across the dance floor. Now everything had gone to pot.
“We can still go to Patrick’s,” said Kieran, leaning into Kennedy. “If you want.”
Kennedy turned to him and grinned. Something had crystallised in Kieran since Koh Samui. Kennedy felt the change, but assumed he’d had high expectations of the island and had been disappointed. When Kennedy had questioned him, he’d shrugged off the concern. Whatever the reason, he’d become really relaxed and had stayed close to Kennedy ever since.
“Shame,” said Kennedy. “I was looking forward to the dinner and dance. You don’t think Steph might feel better by tonight?”
He’d watched the video Kieran had recorded a number of times, memorizing the steps. Now their moment in the spotlight had been snatched away.
“’Doubtful, Kennedy,” said Laurie, worry creasing her forehead. “She can barely get out of bed, except for the occasional rush to the loo—”
“I know, I know. Sod’s law,” he said, before checking his watch. “In which case, one of us ought to make an effort to attend the cocktail party. To make apologies for the others, at the very least. We did get a gentle reminder, after all.”
Patrick, who had been pretty much invisible the whole cruise, had sent Joey to Steph and Laurie’s cabin the day before they arrived in Ho Chi Minh—the port before Hanoi—to remind them about the get-together.
“Kieran,” said Kennedy, his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Would you mind if I do this on my own? Might give me a chance to get Patrick alone and clear the air.”
A brief frown passed across Kieran’s face, replaced quickly by a faint smile. But Laurie answered before Kieran could respond.
“Why do you feel you have any air to clear? I don’t, and neither does Steph,” she said, her quiet anger sounding so much like her partner’s. “He’s the one that caused the rift. How about you get him to do some apologising?”
“Okay, Laurie,” said Kennedy, somewhat surprised. Of the two, Laurie usually let Steph take the lead. “Play nicely. I wasn’t talking about me apologising for anything—apologising is not something I do. But we need to have a conversation. Besides, my question was for Kieran.”
He turned and watched Kieran mull over the words a moment before answering.
“As long as you’re sure,” he said, with a gentle smile that tugged at Kennedy’s heart. “Do what you need to, Kennedy. But I’m also happy to come with you, to stand by your side in case you need me.”
And there it was again. Simple words of support. Nobody in his life offered him that, not even the staff to whom he paid significant wages, not even the partner of nine years who now hated his guts. And until recently, not even his own parents. But really, he needed to get Patrick alone and have the talk. What better opportunity?
“In which case,” said Laurie, her obvious annoyance completely out of character, “if it’s okay with Kieran, I’ll accompany you. Maybe just for half an hour. They know me, so hopefully they won’t start anything. But you’re not going alone, Kennedy. Fuck that. You’re not throwing yourself to those fucking wolves again. I still haven’t forgotten that party six months ago. Anyone picks on you today, I’ll sit on them.”
Kieran laughed aloud. Something in his posture changed too, a slight relaxation of the shoulders.
“Okay. Then let’s head there now,” said Kennedy, standing to make his point. “I know it’s bit early, but I’m with you. I’d prefer to get this over with. But please, can we keep things civil, Laurie?”
“Fine,” said Laurie, rising too. One single word, and she sounded anything but fine. “Let me quickly text Steph. Let her know what’s happening.”
Kennedy felt bad about leaving Kieran. Like a trooper, he nodded and said he’d go back to the cabin to catch up on emails and messages, maybe read a little. Laurie led the way into the elevator and down a couple of floors, until they emerged into a long corridor. Halfway down, they stopped outside the door to Patrick’s cabin, which stood open.
Four steps inside the living space of the two-bedroom cabin—a narrow area with a dining table against one wall, a three-seater sofa and a small bar—and Kennedy realised how grateful he felt to have Laurie with him. Looking at her face, he noticed how she’d also tensed up on seeing the cool stares they’d received as they entered. The truth hit home instantly from the expressions on Mike’s and Richmond’s familiar faces. Neither had expected them to show up. Fortunately, the four other guests were unknown and, apart from a quick once-over, paid them no heed. Patrick and his new partner did not appear to be around. But Richmond and Mike stood together at the bar assessing them like judge and jury. Kennedy approached with Laurie glued to his side, both adopting their game faces.
“You guys are early,” said Mike, pleasantly enough.
“Yes, sorry. Thought we’d get here before the masses arrived,” said Laurie. “Are you boys enjoying the cruise?”
“So far, so good,” said Richmond, the older of the two. Until Kennedy’s split with Patrick, Kennedy had always respected Richmond, had found his common sense refreshing and his business observations insightful. “Where are the others?”
“Steph and Leonard have food poisoning—” began Laurie.
“And let me guess,” said Mike. “Pete’s got a bout of seasickness?”
“Bingo. His dad’s taking care of him.”
“They do have pills for that kind of thing on the boat,” said Richmond.
“He won’t take them, Rich,” said Mike. “Says they make him nauseous.”
As they talked together—pleasantly enough—Kennedy pondered the strangeness of the situation, how these people used to be close friends, used to be in each other’s pockets. Now, because of one simple act—him and Patrick splitting—sides had been taken.
Over drinks served by Richmond, they chatted mainly with Mike, reliving old holiday memories and laughing together. Kennedy had just started to relax when Laurie’s phone beeped. Her face dropped as soon as she peered down at the display. More than likely, Steph needed her help. After thanking Mike and Richmond, and a quick apologetic and guarded nod to Kennedy, she excused herself. In her absence, Kennedy continued chatting until he peered around the room once more.
“Where’s Patrick?” asked Kennedy. “I was hoping to have a chat with him.”
Something in Richmond’s eyes hardened.
“As I said, you’re early. Joey persuaded him to get a massage before the main party. Tension relief. They went together,” replied Richmond. “They’ll be back any minute. Lay off him though, Kennedy, will you?”
“Rich,” said Mike softly, touching his partner’s arm. “Let it go.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kennedy.
“You know exactly what I mean,” said Richmond.
“Look,” said Kennedy. “We need to talk, that’s all. Just the two of us.”
Richmond folded his arms, a grimace twisting his features.
“What you need to do is leave him the fuck alone. Everyone sees what you’re doing. Hard not to. Still flaunting your pretty boys on the cruises in front of your friends year after year. How do you think that makes Patrick feel? I’ll tell you how. He’s now second-guessing himself, about whether you were doing the same thing when you were together—”
Kennedy’s anger bristled. Was that really what his old friends—what Patrick—thought of him?
“That’s unfair. I never once—”
“Maybe not, but try convincing him of that. You froze him out. How often did you guys have sex the last six months
you were together?”
Kennedy glared at Richmond. How dare he call him out in public on something so personal. Had Patrick told all his friends about that last, dreadful year they’d spent together? Peripherally, he noticed the room had gone still and quiet around him.
“That’s private—”
“I’ll tell you how often. Not once. And now he’s fucking torturing himself, because he believes you were getting your kicks elsewhere, because unlike him, you could afford to buy as many tricks as your dick desired. All those times you were away on working weekends, or business trips. What little piece of ass did you have along with you—bought and paid for—to fill your bed?”
Kennedy was too shocked to retaliate. Richmond’s voice resonated throughout the cabin. ’Mike appeared uncomfortable, staring at the floor, unable to meet Kennedy’s gaze but unwilling to interrupt his partner’s onslaught.
“I did nothing of the sort,” said Kennedy calmly, regaining some control. “Whoever’s spreading those lies needs to check their facts.”
“So are you denying that you pay these rent boys to come away with you on holiday?”
“For starters, they’re not rent boys. And why they’re here is nobody’s business—”
“Oh, come on, Kennedy. People talk. Ewan told us all about your arrangement last year. So no doubt this year’s plaything is on your payroll. Can you really blame Patrick for hating you? You fucked him up royally.”
Everyone’s eyes were on them now, boring into him, singling him out. They appeared to relish every accusation coming out of Richmond’s mouth, bystanders enjoying a show. By now, Mike had turned away embarrassed.
“I did nothing of the sort—”
“You treated him like a piece of shit when you were together. Did you even know he was seeing a counsellor for depression when you dumped him? No, because you never bothered to ask, never gave a shit, would rather turn a blind eye if it didn’t concern you. Even on this trip, he’s barely left the cabin, because he’s worried about bumping into you parading this year’s top model. You are a sad, pathetic excuse of a man, Kennedy Grey.”
Kennedy stood there stunned. Richmond’s words stung. Did they believe he had purposely hurt Patrick? Because Patrick’s exit from their relationship had taken him completely by surprise. Had he not been paying attention? Admittedly, keeping the company afloat had taken up much of his time back then. But why had none of these so-called friends warned him if they could see things falling apart? Until Patrick had walked out of the door, Kennedy had assumed everything was fine. Not perfect, perhaps, but what relationships were? Now Richmond stood there talking to him as though Kennedy were on trial with Richmond’s own handpicked jury watching and judging him. Did all his friends feel the same way?
“I don’t fucking need this,” said Kennedy, slamming his glass down on the bar and heading for the exit. As he ripped the door open wide, Patrick and Joey stood there, about to enter, a look of genuine shock on both their faces.
“Yeah, go on,” called Richmond, from somewhere behind. “Run away. It’s what you do best.”
Kennedy didn’t stop, but pushed past them.
Enough of this shit, he thought. I need a fucking drink.
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 t
hese 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.”
“Oh, come on, Kennedy. You’re not blind and deaf. The way he can’t do enough for you, that loud fake laugh when you make a frankly not very funny wisecrack about something. The way he checks out your ass every chance he can get. And especially the way he looks at me.”
“How does he look at you?”
“Daggers. As if he’d like to stab me in the throat with the butter knife, then throw my body over the sea rail. Because he wants to be the one sitting next to you. Why don’t you ring for him? I bet he’d be up for a shag.”
“Not my type.”
“So? Neither am I, as most of your friends have told me repeatedly. Despite me reaching down into the deepest, darkest teachings from the one term of acting classes I took in high school. Honestly, it’s beginning to get on my tits, the way they keep casually dropping the fact into every conversation.”
When Kieran looked over, Kennedy’s shoulders were shaking with laughter.
“Sorry about that. But they know I have a type.”
“You don’t say. So pardon me for not being an emaciated, dumb blond elf and actually having an informed opinion about things.”
Kennedy chuckled softly.
“They’re right, though,” said Kennedy, gently shaking his head. “God, I really can be shallow at times.”
“No argument from me.”
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