“Have you found a new job?”
“Have you given up asking?”
“Well, if you don’t find a new job, how can you afford rent?”
He groaned, hiding his face in his top. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“How’s your book?”
He glanced at his closed laptop on the coffee table, surrounded in wrappers and empty cups. “I’m uninspired.”
“Get inspired, quickly.”
He shrugged again. “I don’t want to.”
“There’s an admin job where I work, it’s only fifteen a year, but it’s better than nothing.”
“No, Danni. No.”
She smiled at him. “Find a job, or you’ll be forced into something you hate.”
“What if I don’t find anything, what if I have to go and live my mum and aunt in Wales, what if I don’t have human contact in years, and what if my best friends are sheep.” He gasped. “I can’t become friends with sheep.”
“These are the things you’ll have to think about. Find a job. I can’t have you like this for the new year, Christmas was bad enough.”
He knew she was right, and it wasn’t for his lack of trying, because he was trying to find himself a job, he just wasn’t trying hard enough, only looking for writing positions that beat what he was earning. He’d been tweeting and posting to his website, mainly arbitrary thoughts and feelings, nonsense nobody cared too much for because it wasn’t funny or in a bullet-point list.
“I’ll find something, I promise.”
“And clean up as well.” She pressed her hands together in prayer. “Please, we can’t have our New Year’s party here if it’s a mess, and you’re definitely not going to gate crash the Manhattan party.”
He nodded and groaned. “I can’t do that, they took away my company ID.”
She smiled. “Good. We have three days before New Year’s, and I expect it to be clean, tonight, it’s already a last-minute thing, we can’t have people coming in to your dirty laundry everywhere and half-eaten food.”
He pushed a hand out and waved at her. “Okay, but after this episode of Dexter, it’s the season five finale.”
“The one where Rita dies?”
He pouted. “Spoilers.”
Before leaving the apartment, Dannika sighed. “And don’t be making Ava do any cleaning. I know she’s been bringing you McDonalds, and also, maybe visit the gym, you told me to tell you if you’re looking heavier, well, here it is.”
“Okay. Leave me alone now.” He pushed his entire body up on the sofa. “And I’ll get Ava to bring me a smoothie.”
She laughed. “I’ve already told her, fast food is banned. See you later, sweets.”
“Bye.”
Ava arrived at Blake’s apartment forty minutes before she was needed at Vague. Often arrived with something from the McDonald’s breakfast menu in a paper bag, today she brought a large red-berry smoothie.
Blake accepted it reluctantly. “Did you bring me anything else? Not even a hash brown?”
“Nope.” Ava sighed, sitting beside Blake. “Dannika’s already told me, no cleaning.”
Blake took a sip of the smoothie, squinting at the sour and bitter tangs touching his tongue. “Ugh. Well, I’m not surprised. Also, what the hell is this?” He held the plastic cup to her.
“Real berries.”
“Think my tongue is being assaulted.”
“It’s because it’s good for you.”
He rolled his eyes, closing them and taking another sip. “How’s everything at work?”
“Same old, same.”
“No, you have to tell me more.”
“Nothing has changed, people are sad you’ve left, and they’ve posted an announcement to state they’re not accepting anymore postal submissions or email submissions for your page on the website, oh, and you’ve been moved to the archive, and they took down your picture and information.”
It was everything he knew already. He spent much of his free time trolling their website, looking to see if they’d replaced him, and how people were reacting, much like the same reason he’d taken to social media again, he wanted people to know he was alive. He received a handful of people asking where he was, and he told them he quit, but any great company knows they have NDAs and contracts in place to keep employees past and present from spilling information or even badmouthing them online.
“And Chris?” he asked.
“Chris keeps to himself, I mean, he was fun when he was with you, and now he’s not. It was like he was just coming out of his shell, then he popped back inside.”
“It was a whole lot of work getting him out of his shell.”
“But he’s with his ex, and he comes into the office sometimes in the morning.”
“What’s he like?”
Every morning before work, Chris walked through the park from Michael’s apartment, his ex, and the man he was currently dating. Michael was as tall as Chris, and his equal in muscle mass and attitude to working out.
“Gym tonight?” Michael asked, pointing finger guns at Chris.
“Absolutely. Need to work on these glutes.”
“Right. Right. Should I pick you up after work?”
“Sure.” Chris reached for Michael’s hand and held it for a moment. He pushed his face to him and kissed.
“Whoa. Man.” He pulled away.
“What?”
“We don’t do that.” Michael looked around at everyone walking by.
Chris creased his brow. “What?”
“In public.”
“But why not.”
Michael chuckled. “Just not what we do. I like you, and everything, but we’re not about being together out in public.”
“But we can fuck and kiss at home?” he scoffed.
“You got it.”
“No, Michael, no. I don’t.”
He sucked in a deep breath and huffed. “What’s up, now?”
“When you said you wanted to make a go of things, I thought it would be different.”
“It is, we’re more open with each other.”
“But no, I want to be with you, not beside you, I want people to know we’re together and not just your spotting partner in the gym.”
Michael scrunched his face and pulled his jacket closer together over his chest. “Like a badge, we’re not getting married. We’re not going to start acting like straight couples, making out in public and holding hands.”
Chris groaned. “You mean, like a couple.”
“Chris, man. Why are you being aggro?”
“I’m not, I just wanna know.”
“We can touch all we want at home.”
Chris tightened his grasp of his scarf. “Right. Well, I’ll see you later. I’m gonna be late.”
“Sure.” Michael punched Chris in his arm. “Laters.”
Ava explained Michael in a way, it made Michael and Chris sound perfect for each other. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d stalked Chris online, but there was never a trace to a Michael anywhere, no pictures together, no updates, his name was never mentioned.
Tweets hit his account, faster. Since the publication of the last issue, and the company never properly addressing the fans it was his last print weeks ago, they still believed he’d be making a comeback, but once his articles vanished from their online pages and removed to their archive, it was enough to stir readers in social media meltdown.
You guys make me feel special. He tweeted out.
He waited fifteen minutes, piecing together the perfect tweet. I’ve addressed some tweets, but I’ll write a post about what happened. Short story. I quit working at Vague. It wasn’t even five minutes later that Vague favourited the tweet.
It took Blake an hour to get his words into the blog post.
I QUIT! He titled it, there was a therapeutic after feeling to having the title of the article written. It had been a while since something washed over him and brought a smile to his face. It was therapy, much like writ
ing the novel he’d started, but he couldn’t bring himself to even look at it, not since Chris showed his true colours.
Blake finalised his post, shedding the blanket and undressing to shower. He posted it and quickly occupied himself with getting clean.
As some of you might already know. I quit working at Vague, it was two and a half years since I started working for them, and since that time, I made a lot of friends, I even did a lot of fun things and worked with some really great companies, but it wasn’t for me in the end.
Here’s what happened:
They pitted me against another writer. One of our pages was going to be cut.
I lost, and it came with a pay decrease, and I lost my office.
They’re clearly downsizing. So, I made it easy on them, and I decided to quit.
I also believe I fell for a man, and he broke me.
So, me, being me, I quit without a job. I’m now unemployed, I’m living my daily life watching Netflix and eating cereal from the plastic bag. I’m surrounded by wrappers and I’ve cocooned myself in layers of clothes, mostly to keep the smell contained because I feel like I’m decaying inside.
That’s my summary.
You might see more of me online, and I’d ask you to submit questions via my website, but honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to get back into it just yet.
Blake
It was bittersweet, posting so honestly, but it was a motivator. The blog post was automatically tweeted out. He’d closed his laptop and after cleaning himself, he cleaned the apartment.
He checked the notifications on his phone an hour later, pausing the upbeat pop music he’d been playing. He found thousands of favourites and hundreds of retweets on his article, followed by hundreds of people tweeting him and several people hogging his inbox.
Hi Blake,
I’m Gareth. I work for a magazine out of Manchester called Homo, you might have heard of us, we recently won an award for our work within the LGBTQ+ community, mostly working with gay men. I saw your article, actually, it was sent to me from several of my writers and even an editor. They think you’re a good fit for our magazine brand.
Can you come in after the New Year for an interview?
If you’ve not already accepted an offer from someone else. Vague are stupid for letting you leave, you have a loyal fan base and with our help, we can only grow that for you.
Gareth Watts
Owner of Homo Magazine
He received several more, just like it, mostly from women’s weekly magazines, but Blake knew all about Homo, they were tough competition for Attitude, one of the leading gay men’s magazines in circulation.
Blake broke Dannika’s most important rule, calling her at work. He couldn’t help it, it was more than what a text would suffice.
“Blake, are you dying? Dead? In hospital, because so help me—” she spoke, her voice in a whisper.
“No, Danni, listen. I have an interview!”
“Shut up, what? Why? Who?”
“A gay magazine, I didn’t even apply. I just sent wrote a post on my website to tell everyone I was unemployed and not to expect more advice columns.”
“Good.” She let out a squeal. “Okay, I have to go. Love you, Blakey.”
“Thank you, love you!”
Blake threw himself back into his sofa, letting out a sigh. He dialled another number, for Ava.
She answered immediately. “What happened”
He squeaked. “I have an interview.”
“No way! From that article?”
“You saw?”
“Everyone saw.”
A grumble bubbled in Blake’s stomach. “They did?”
“Ruby said they should hire you back, she thinks it’s stupid they actually let you leave.”
Blake pounded his fists on the sofa cushions in excitement. “Really?”
“So, when’s the interview?”
“After the New Year.”
She let out a deep breath. “You’ll ace it.”
Blake looked around at the clean apartment, overwhelmed with a warmth inside. “I guess that means no Welsh countryside or eating old people food.”
Ava laughed. “I wouldn’t let you move, you’re hot shit.”
The warmth formed behind the back of Blake’s eyes, leaving him with tears gushing down his cheeks. “Glad you believe in me.”
“You think I’d stick around here if it wasn’t for you?”
“And you still haven’t submitted anything to them.”
She sighed. “They’re kinda not accepting submissions at the moment.”
“Shit. Just quit.” He laughed.
“God, I’m not crazy like you.” She groaned. “I gotta go. But we can celebrate this weekend.”
EIGHTEEN
Media circus
Nothing could beat the three-day hangover the New Year’s celebrations would bring, especially if you’d celebrated in the correct kind of way, with plenty of wine, and someone laid on a table, asking to have people suck body shots from their stomach. Nor was it complete unless there were vodka jellies that needed a deep tongue thrust to eat either.
Tuesday, the 3rd January 2017. The day all businesses got back to work after the shenanigans they left in the previous year.
“Are you ready for your interview?” Dannika asked as Blake sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. “Everything prepared?”
On the floor beside the chair, Blake had his trusty bag. It was complete with his working portfolio from Vague, alongside information on his web presence and the amount of hits he received, even if it wasn’t as many as Chris, it was enough to show he was successful. “Got it all.”
“Okay, good. And you made sure to look them up online and make sure they have a great office atmosphere, make sure it isn’t toxic.”
He sipped his coffee. “Yup. I have a question. Do I go for a bowtie or a normal tie?”
“Bow, always. That’s you.”
He nodded. “Great, I was thinking the same, normal ties make my torso look huge.”
“Right. How don’t guys see that?”
“Always look weird.”
“And.” She jabbed him in the arm. “You might find yourself a man. Like, a really hot man, working at a gay magazine will probably have its benefits, right?”
He puffed out his cheeks. “More bitchiness.”
She rolled her eyes. “God, you’ll be their ringleader.” She grabbed her compact mirror and looked at her eyes, wiping away at the black smudge from her eyeliner. “And I’ll see you later. And text me what they say, I don’t want to step out to take your call, even if they give you the job.”
“Gotcha.” He gave her a two-finger salute.
Dannika left just as Blake’s phone bleeped with a new text.
Wanna grab a coffee? It was from Chris.
While the New Year was often a time not to dwell, a time to give people second chances, he knew he’d outstayed his chances with Chris, and it would only end in tears for him if they tried anything again. He felt a hole in him from where Chris had been, a hole, very physically from where he’d been touched.
Blake’s focus was on moving forward and moving up.
“Stay true.” He told himself.
The offices for Homo were in the Millennium Quarter, closer to Chris’ apartment. It wasn’t in some skyrise glass palace, but in a large three-storey building. The first floor was the reception area, including signposts to a staff canteen. A woman manned the reception area, her eyes grew as she saw Blake walk through the double doors.
The second and third floor were made of writing and production spaces. Alongside being a magazine, they were also an internet force, creating viral content.
“You must be Blake,” her voice, sparked out in a high pitch. “I’m Dee, I work the reception, and can I just say, I hope you accept the job, I see everything that comes through online, and oh, my god, I see your name appear so often.”
It took him aback. He’d walked in with sweaty p
alms and pulling at the collar of his shirt, getting a breeze to his neck. He smiled at Dee. “Thank you.”
“I’ll call Gareth,” she said with a smile. “Oo, please take a seat.”
He nodded and looked around. There was a seating area opposite the reception desk, made of grey slick leather chair around a low black coffee table. He continued to look around as he took a seat and placed his bag on the floor. The walls were decorated in light grey paint and the company logo imprinted in bright bold lettering.
Blake waited twenty minutes, provided with a cold bottle of water and a cup of coffee from Dee. He sat and watched as people walked through the doors, mostly attractive men with gorgeous tanned skin.
“For an underwear shoot,” Dee said, approaching Blake.
Blake fanned himself. “I don’t know how I’ll survive.”
She chuckled. “Gareth will see you now. He’s on the third floor, and his name is on his door. You won’t miss it.” She gestured to the elevator.
The interior of the elevator was all mirrored. Blake straightened out his shirt and jacket, adjusting his bowtie, he smiled to himself and made sure he didn’t have any food between his teeth. “You got this,” he told himself.
As Dee had said, he wouldn’t miss it, and he didn’t. Gareth’s office was straight ahead of the elevator doors opening. He pushed forward, looking at other offices around him. Bright and colourful; oranges, pinks, yellows, and bright blues. He knocked on Gareth’s door and cleared his throat.
A loud voice boomed. “Come on in.”
It shocked Blake slightly, stumbling back. His fingers twitched around the door handle. He opened it to see Gareth sat at his desk. A man in his thirties with a thick head a dirty-blond hair and sparkling blue eyes.
He stood and stuck a hand out. “Mr Blake Harris, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Thank you for seeing me.” He shook Gareth’s hand. “All good I hope.”
“I’m Gareth Watts, owner of the magazine.” He took his seat and offered the chair opposite to Blake. “Before I offer you the job, just a few questions.”
Kiss Me Page 13