Shameless

by Paul Burston

  “What about you?”

  Graham grinned. “Well, contrary to popular opinion, I’m not following in my father’s footsteps. Besides, I can’t walk in heels.”

  Caroline blushed. “I meant, do you blame him?”

  “I’m not ashamed of him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “But you must have been embarrassed, or you’d have told me earlier.”

  “I suppose I was a bit embarrassed at first, yes. But who isn’t embarrassed by their parents sometimes?”

  Caroline pictured her mother and was forced to agree. “I’m glad you took me to meet your dad,” she said finally.

  “Me, too,” Graham said. “His act needs a bit of work, though, doesn’t it? And he could probably do with one of your makeovers.”

  Caroline laughed. “It could be worse. At least he wasn’t up there having sex.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “Just some other drag act I saw once. Anyway, it’s getting late. Shall I call you a cab, or would you like to stay over?”

  He smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Before leaving to collect Neil from the hospital the following morning, Martin phoned his father.

  “It’s a bit early for you on a Sunday, isn’t it, son?” his father asked with a slightly anxious tone. “Nothing wrong, is there?”

  “Not really,” Martin said. “Well, not in the way you think anyway. The thing is, Dad—I know what John said to you, about how he thought I should go for an HIV test. He had no right saying that. I’m fine, really. I don’t know where he gets some of his ideas from.”

  “Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm,” his father said, somewhat charitably. “He is your friend, after all.”

  “Yes, so he tells me,” Martin replied flatly. “Anyway, that’s for us to sort out. I just wanted you to know that there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine. I know how to take care of myself.”

  His father chuckled. “I’m sure you do. You always did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Even as a kid, you were always the strong one. It was your brother I worried about. Especially after the divorce.”

  Martin took a moment to take this in. “Really? You never told me that before.”

  “Perhaps I should have done so,” his father replied. “It isn’t always easy being a parent, you know. There are a few things I’d do differently if I had my time again.”

  “You did okay,” Martin said gently. “Oh, and there’s just one other thing, Dad. Those self-help books you keep sending. I know you mean well, but I honestly don’t need them. I hope you’re not offended.”

  “Of course not,” his father assured him. “I’ll tell you what. The money I save by not sending those books I can put toward coming up and seeing you again sometime soon. How about that?”

  Martin smiled. “That sounds great, Dad.”

  When the taxi pulled up at the hospital half an hour later, Martin was surprised to find Neil waiting outside. He looked a little pale and his pupils were like pinpricks, but other than that, he seemed fully recovered.

  “The doctor says I should avoid taking drugs for a while,” Neil said as he climbed into the backseat.

  “Maybe you should think about giving them up for good,” Martin replied, amazed that Neil would even consider taking drugs ever again. “What happened last night wasn’t just some minor mishap. It was serious.”

  “I know that,” Neil said sulkily, and turned to stare out the window. “Maybe it’s something I should talk over with my therapist,” he added quietly. “What do you think?”

  Martin gritted his teeth. “I think that would be a good idea, Neil.”

  They continued the journey in silence, and when the taxi finally pulled up outside the flat, Martin took a few minutes to persuade Neil that now was not a good time to go and collect his car before ushering him inside.

  “I think I’ll go and lie down for a bit,” Neil said as they entered the flat. He stopped outside his bedroom door and turned to Martin. “Thanks for everything. You’ve been great.” And with that, he disappeared into his room.

  Martin hung up his jacket and drifted into the living room. The answering machine was blinking to indicate that there were two new messages.

  The first message was from Caroline.

  “Hi, babes,” she said. “I’m just calling to say that I took your advice and called Graham and that we’ve sorted everything out. I’ve got loads more to tell you. Honestly, you won’t believe some of what’s been happening. Call me as soon as you can. Lots of love, and thanks for the other night. Oh, and I’ve left a message on your cell, too, so if you hear this one first, just ignore it. Okay, bye.”

  The second message was from John.

  “Hello, daughter,” it began. “Look, I know you’re probably a bit pissed off with me after last night, but I just wanted to ring and check that Neil’s okay. I saw the ambulance arrive, so I assume he didn’t die or anything. Also, Fernando’s a bit worried about the police getting involved and his name being mentioned, but I told him he could trust you to keep him out of it. Anyway, I’m in all day, so call me when you get this message.”

  Martin reached for the phone, then thought better of it. Some things were better said in person. Creeping about the flat so as not to disturb Neil, he put on his jacket, picked up his cell phone, and slipped quietly out the door.

  John and Fernando hadn’t said more than two words to each other all morning. There was one very good reason for this. Ever since they left the club together last night and came back to John’s flat, all that seemed to concern Fernando was whether or not his name would be mentioned in connection with Neil’s apparent overdose on the dance floor. As he explained to John, it wasn’t just the police he was worried about. If word got out that it was he who had supplied Neil with drugs last night, his business would suffer terribly—at least for a week or two. Much to John’s annoyance, Fernando had been so preoccupied with Neil’s little misadventure that he appeared to have completely forgotten about the whole point of last night’s party. Having risked public humiliation by inviting Fernando to move in with him, John was still waiting for an answer.

  To make matters worse, Fernando’s silence on this particular subject seemed to have coincided with a sudden lack of interest in other departments. Despite the fact that they had arrived home last night high on a combination of E and K, and had then proceeded to work their way through a gram of coke, they hadn’t fallen into their usual routine of pouring a stiff drink and having wild, druggy sex on the living-room floor. Instead, they had fallen into bed, where Fernando promptly passed out. And when he nudged John awake this morning, it wasn’t sex he wanted but further reassurance that Martin wouldn’t mention his name to the police. Finally, after persuading John to phone Martin and leave a message, Fernando had gone out to clear his head.

  He had been gone for the best part of an hour now, leaving John to clean up the mess from last night’s party and gradually work himself up into an indignant rage. He was elbow deep in soapsuds and practically foaming at the mouth when the buzzer rang. Expecting it to be Fernando armed with a bunch of flowers, an apology and possibly even a suitcase or two, John dried his hands and ran to open the door.

  “Hello, John,” Martin said.

  John made little attempt to disguise the disappointment in his voice. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “I thought you were Fernando.”

  “I need to talk to you,” Martin replied. There was a steely quality to his voice John hadn’t heard before.

  “What about?” John said, suddenly panicking and peering over Martin’s shoulder. “Oh, my God, the police aren’t with you, are they?”

  “Of course not!” Martin snapped. “And in case you’re wondering, Neil is fine.”

  John blushed ever so slightly. “Oh, I see. That’s great news,” he said, stepping back from the door. “Well, I suppose you’d better come in.”

  Martin didn
’t move. “There’s no need,” he said. “This won’t take long. I just came here to tell you that I know what you’ve been saying behind my back. I know what you told Shane about me and Christopher. And I know what you said to my dad about how I should go for an HIV test. I couldn’t believe it at first, but then it all sort of fitted together. I don’t know why I was surprised. I’ve always known you could be a spiteful little queen. I just never imagined that you would be so disloyal. Now that I know, I’m really not sure I want to be your friend anymore. Anyway, I think that’s all I came to say. Oh yes, one more thing. I bumped into Fernando on the way here. He was sitting in that café next to the tube station. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I got the distinct impression that he won’t be moving in. He said something about going back to Brazil.”

  For the first time in all the years that they had known each other, John found himself completely lost for words. He simply stood mouth agape as Martin turned and walked away.

  Martin left Stockwell tube station and was turning into his street when his cell phone rang.

  “Hi, baby,” Caroline’s voice said. “It’s me. Where’ve you been? I’ve been trying to track you down all day.”

  “There was something I needed to do,” he replied. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you before. I got your message about you and Graham. That’s great news.”

  “You sound a bit strange,” she said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I had a bit of a drama last night. Neil ended up in the hospital, but he seems all right now. And I ran into Christopher. It was weird seeing him again, but I feel kind of okay with it.”

  Caroline sounded doubtful. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound it.”

  “I’m just tired, that’s all. I’ll tell you all about it later. Look, I’m almost home now. I’ll call you back in a little while, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll be at home. But make it quick. I’m worried.”

  Martin laughed. “Not you as well. I’ve had enough of that with my dad. I’ll call you back in half an hour, I promise. Now can I please go? I have to find my keys.”

  He let himself into the flat and padded quietly past Neil’s door and into the living room. The light on the answering machine was flashing. It would be John no doubt, phoning with some tart response to their earlier conversation. Maybe it would be best to leave it until later. He really was feeling incredibly tired. Then again, if it was John on the machine, Martin didn’t really want Neil hearing whatever nasty little speech John had composed as his rejoinder. He hit the play button.

  “Hi, Martin,” a voice said. “It’s me, Ben. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, but I’ve been out of town for a few days and I only got back last night. If you’re still interested, I’d really like to see you again. Maybe we could go for dinner or something. I think you’ve got my number, but just in case you’ve thrown it away or something, it’s . . .”

  Suddenly Martin didn’t feel quite so tired anymore. As he reached for the phone and dialed Caroline’s number, something stirred in his stomach and his face broke into the biggest smile he’d smiled in a long time.

  Acknowledgments

  This book could not have been written without the assistance, encouragement and shameless behavior of a number of people. Thanks to:

  Marcello Almeida; Marc Almond; Elaine Burston; Georgina Capel; James Collard; Nichola Coulthard, Chris Hemblade, Judy Kerr and all at Time Out; The Lady Denise; Aruan Duval; Alex Erfan; Elaine Finkeltaub; Lorraine Gamman; William Gibbon; Chris Headon; Sophie Hicks; Karen Krizanovich; Clayton Littlewood; Projit Mallick and Andy Theodosiou; Alison Menzies; Carl Miller; David Parker; Wayne Shires, Kerry Chapman and all at Crash; Carl Stanley; Martin Thompson; Andrew Wille.

  Special thanks to Deborah Orr for sound advice, Frances Williams and Rachael Underhill for always bringing out the party monster in me, Pedro for some great lines, and my family for taking it all in their stride.

  Thanks also to Miguel Cid, whose encouragement helped enormously, and to Russell T. Davies and Will Self for their kind words.

  Last but not least, a big thank-you to Antonia Hodgson, the best editor a boy could wish for.

  About the Author

  Paul Burston was born in Yorkshire, raised in South Wales, and now lives in London. A journalist and broadcaster, his work has appeared widely in British media, including Time Out, the Sunday Times, the Times, the Guardian, the Independent, the Independent on Sunday, and on BBC Channel Four. He is the author of several books, including Queens’ Country: A Tour Around the Gay Ghettos, Queer Spots, and Camp Sights of Britain. SHAMELESS is his first novel.