by Lily Morton
“I don’t want to be more approachable,” I say patiently. “I keep telling you that. If you’re approachable, people talk to you.” I shudder. “They tell you their problems.”
“Ugh!” Dylan says mockingly. “How truly appalling.”
The front door bangs, and Ivo and Asa appear. Ivo is holding three carrier bags that are clanking ominously and wearing a white shirt which is unbuttoned to his waist and has a collar that’s slightly bigger than his head. His flares are so wide I can feel the draft as he walks past.
“You went out in that? You brave bastard,” I say admiringly.
He looks at me and grins. “But who is this very charming stranger? Dylan, please introduce me.” He looks at my raised middle finger and laughs. “We seem to be communicating with sign language. Ah, it’s the language of love.”
Asa grins. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt and looks tanned and very happy. Come to think of it, that description fits the way he looks all the time.
“Hang on,” I say indignantly. “Why is Asa dressed normally?”
“He couldn’t go out in costume,” Henry says crossly. “Asa is a star, Gabe.” He gives Asa a very sweet and slightly lecherous smile.
Ivo shakes his head. “Babe, wipe the drool. You look like a bulldog at the dinner table.”
Henry laughs and makes a production of wiping his face.
Jude comes over. “Asa is going to wear this,” he says, unveiling an outfit of a khaki shirt and brown trousers with a flourish.
“I think his shirt should be open and his hair should be down,” Dylan says judiciously.
Jude nods happily, and Asa just looks resigned.
“I know a good lawyer,” I tell him, grabbing a handful of pistachio nuts and starting to crack them. “You know, for when you launch the sexual harassment case.”
“I don’t mind,” Asa says thoughtfully. “Jude’s going to put his leather chaps on soon.”
“This is not that sort of party,” Dylan says in a scandalised tone. “Don’t bring your wild Hollywood ways to this house.”
I stare at Asa. “Why is he dressing as Crocodile Dundee?”
“He’s got Australia,” Dylan says as he sets out the bottles that Ivo hands him.
I squint at him. “The world map must have shifted since I was at school. Since when is Australia in fucking Europe?”
“Gabe, whole continents have shifted since you were at school,” Dylan says sweetly.
I laugh. “You’re such a wanker,” I say affectionately. He gives me a glowing smile that makes his green-gold eyes shine, and I feel the customary lurch where I apparently have a heart now.
“Australia is now in the contest,” Jude informs me. “I’m not exactly sure why it happened, but you just have to accept it.”
“Last person who said that to me was Dylan, and he was serving broccoli.” I pause. “Hang on. Jude and Asa are Australia. I’m not entirely sure what Henry and Ivo are?”
“We’re Benny and Björn from ABBA. We’re Sweden,” Henry says indignantly. “Can’t you tell?”
“No,” I say succinctly. I stare at Dylan. “So, why aren’t we doing England together?”
He shrugs. “Pah! England is never, in a million years, going to win and I fancied dressing up as Bono.”
Henry sits up at this point. “Psst,” he says. “It’s started.”
There’s a scurrying movement as Jude and Dylan pour everyone a tequila shot. On TV, very oddly dressed people flood the stage while some strange music starts to play.
“Last time I heard music like this, it was at a school disco,” I say to Henry. “Remember those, with all the girls lined up one side of the hall not looking at the boys?”
He laughs. “I went to boarding school. We weren’t allowed wicked women at those. Just boys.” He winks at Ivo. “I think Ivo and I were the only ones who were happy about that arrangement.”
“Okay,” Dylan says, writing busily on the whiteboard. “You have your bingo cards. Cross things off as they happen. There are prizes.” He glares at Jude. “Not just Advocaat. Now, we all have to take a shot if someone uses a wind machine — the same for if someone makes a political statement or uses pyrotechnics. You also have your own countries for the scoring at the end. We individually have to down our own drink when our country gets nil points.”
Everyone looks at me and starts to laugh.
“Oh, brilliant,” I mutter. “How come I got Britain in Brexit year? I’ll be nil pointed by every fucking country in the competition.”
“Every year is Brexit year,” Dylan says solemnly. “We’ll still be trying to sort it out when people are driving around in flying cars.”
He taps his pen on the board in a very officious manner that makes me smile. “Two whole shots must be downed immediately if the lyrics to a song make no sense, or if Graham Norton insults someone.”
I sigh. “This is going to be a very long night.”
I come awake with a start. “Oh my God,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Where am I?” I pause, registering the darkness. “Oh fuck, I’ve gone blind. Dylan, where are you?”
I hear footsteps, and then light blinds me. “Shit,” I say, putting my hands up. “Thank God, I can see again.”
I lower my hands to see Dylan smirking at me. “Your wig was over your face,” he says, over-pronouncing his words the way he always does when he’s pissed. His eyes are slightly crossed.
“Thank you for saving me.” I smile up at him and catch him when he folds himself into my lap with his long legs hitched up comfortably.
“I will always save you,” he says, bumping his head softly against mine.
“My hero.” He snuggles into me and sighs happily. I cuddle him close. “Where is everyone?”
“Gone to bed,” he says through a massive yawn.
“When did I go to sleep?”
He starts to laugh and seemingly can’t stop. “Is that what they’re calling it now? Normally, we call it passing out.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I mutter. “I was England. Slaughter is the only way to describe that final scoring board. It was totally outrageous.”
“Yes, darling. Why don’t you write to the papers about it?” he says comfortably. He gives that wicked grin. “You passed out amongst a pile of bingo cards.”
“Great.”
“Look on the bright side. You won the Advocaat.”
“Oh, joy.” Silence falls as we sit snuggled together amid the detritus littering our lounge.
“I like doing things with you,” I finally say. “Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Because we all know who manages the fun in our family and it’s definitely you, my love.”
He grins and leans in to give me a lingering kiss. My cock stirs, which should be a physical impossibility with the headache that’s brewing in my temples. He winks when he feels it. “Let’s go to bed,” he says throatily. “Two of the countries in the contest are about to get very friendly.”
“That’s incredibly cheesy,” I observe and look him up and down. “Keep going, Bono, and I’ll up your score.”
“I do like a challenge,” he says happily, and getting up, he offers me his hand to pull me to my feet.
We wander up the stairs hand in hand, and I chuckle. “You can say that again, sweetheart.”
Jude and Asa
Green-Eyed Monsters
Jude
The plane lands with a grinding thud, and I sit forward in my seat, waiting for the seat belt sign to switch off so I can jump up. Finally, the ding sounds, and I immediately leap into action, opening the overhead locker and pulling out my bag.
I’ve packed lightly for this trip. Being a seasoned traveller, I always cram my stuff into my hand luggage which means I can get out of the airport quickly. Of course, on this trip, I’m banking on not needing many clothes anyway. I grin happily. I’m in Dublin, joining Asa for a long weekend, and I can’t wait to see him. He’s been away filming for three weeks which
is a long time for us. Usually, he schedules most of his filming for during the holidays so Billy and I can join him. However, he’d had no choice with this one, as it’s some requested reshoots of scenes.
It’s the longest that we’ve been parted, and I’ve missed him so much. The house has been extraordinarily quiet without him, and it feels fancifully like the heart’s gone from our home. We’ve only been together for a year, and I still marvel at how much this gorgeous, gentle giant has taken over my life. The whole relationship had come as a bit of a surprise to me, considering I’d spent a lot of years redefining the word footloose.
After five minutes of all the passengers standing contorted into strange positions and trying not to catch each other’s eyes, the doors open and the line starts to move. I heft my bag and join the throng, willing them to move quickly.
Once through passenger control, I move quickly towards the doors, angling around slow-moving people with the ease of long practice. Finally, we emerge into the din of Dublin Airport, an assault on the ears. I edge along and then snort out a laugh as I see Asa’s assistant holding up a sign saying Ivor Biggun. I walk towards him, smiling widely.
“I think that might be me,” I say.
Jim lowers his sign and laughs, holding out his hand to shake mine. “Fuck me, Jude,” he says with his broad Irish accent. “It’s bloody good to see you.”
“Is it?” I ask curiously. I like Jim. He’s been Asa’s assistant since the beginning of filming this series and the two of them get along like a house on fire. He’s been to stay with us a few times and gone surfing. However, there’s a fervent note in his voice that catches my interest. “What?” I ask immediately.
He shakes his head, pasting a smile on his face. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
Hmm. I nod slowly, following him as he turns on his heel. “Is Asa filming?” I ask.
He looks back. “No. Not today.”
I stop dead. If he isn’t filming, where is he? He always comes to pick me up if he isn’t working, and I treasure that first moment when he sees me and his whole face lights up. It’s always a disappointment when he doesn’t come, but I’m a big boy. I understand commitments.
Jim, seeming to sense that I’ve stopped, turns back. “He stayed to help Hayden with his lines. The director pushed a script change on them this morning, and he asked Asa for help.”
I nod, thinking of the other actor. He plays a warrior in Asa’s character’s house, and last season I saw signs that the writers were beginning to write a love connection between the two men. Asa had confirmed it.
I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but Hayden is gorgeous. He’s tall, almost as tall as Asa, and with his blond hair and patrician features, he’s an intriguing contrast to Asa’s dark masculinity. The thought of Hayden, combined with Jim’s odd attitude, sends tendrils of alarm drifting around my brain.
“That’s nice,” I say slowly, and Jim’s lips tighten. Yes. Something’s wrong.
I shake my head and start walking again. I trust Asa. Whatever is going on, I trust him. I tell myself that stoutly, and by the time I leave the airport I’ve nearly convinced myself.
Four hours later, that conviction is waning as I pace up and down the hotel suite for the five hundredth time. It’s a beautiful suite, and the hotel is wonderful and centrally located. The crew always stay here, and I’ve spent many very drunken weekends, as the bars and restaurants of Dublin are within walking distance. Today, however, it doesn’t seem half as charming when I’m on my own.
I wander over to the window, looking down onto the street. Once again, there’s no sign of him, and for the first time, anger kindles in my stomach. He knew I was coming. He knew the time of my flight. He hadn’t even been rostered onto work, and doing a favour for his friend has obviously taken precedence over spending time with me. All this when he’s been away for three weeks and is likely to be away for another couple.
I run my hands through my hair, feeling the anger grow, and suddenly my mind is made up. After putting on my jacket and my beanie and scarf, I scoop up the key and let myself out of the room. If Asa finds it so easy to miss spending time with me, then I’m not fucking waiting around for him like a little wife. I’ll go out and have a walk around Dublin, and he can fucking make the effort to find me this time.
For the next couple of hours, I wander through the city, looking disinterestedly in shop windows and galleries. I stop for a sandwich but end up pushing the food aside because the phone stays silent, and I feel almost sick.
Finally, having exhausted my options, I wander back to the hotel, taking my time and occasionally pulling out my phone to check that the battery is still working and I’ve got coverage. Sadly, I have both. I stick it back in my coat pocket, pausing on the side of the road before crossing.
I look up and freeze, because there in the window of the hotel bar are Asa and Hayden. They’re sitting with a few empty glasses in front of them, indicating they’ve been there a while, and they’re absorbed in conversation. As I watch, Asa laughs and reaches out to slap Hayden on the back, and the other man smiles widely at him. Several people are staring at them, and I don’t blame them because they’re a striking sight.
I’m so absorbed that I step out onto the road without thinking. A blaring horn recalls me to the present, and I jump back out of the path of an oncoming car. The driver of the vehicle waves his fist at me, and I raise a hand to say sorry, shaking slightly at the near miss. I look up, and through the window, Asa stares at me, his mouth open.
I shake my head angrily at him and march over the now clear road, aware of a commotion at his window.
After entering the hotel, I make no attempt to go into the bar, bypassing it and making for the lifts. I tap the button, and just as the doors open, I hear my name being shouted. Pretending not to hear, I push into the lift and crossly press at the button for our floor. Fuck the twat. He can use the stairs.
However, just as the doors close, his hand forces them back, and he half falls into the lift. “Jude,” he exclaims, his face full of joy. “You’re here.”
“Obviously,” I say sharply.
He goes to pull me into a hug, but freezes as I move deliberately back. “Jude?”
“I’ve been here for hours,” I say coldly. “I wasted four of them waiting in our room before giving up on you. I’ve been wandering around Dublin since then.” I pause. “Still, at least you had company in the bar.”
“What?” he gasps. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, really,” I huff. “Don’t try that. You’ve been there for fucking ages, Asa. Did you maybe think of giving me a ring to see where I was?” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I fucking bothered coming. You’re obviously happy enough.”
“Stop,” he says sharply. “Sweetheart, stop. I’ve been waiting for you. Jim said he’d phone me when you got to the hotel.”
“Well, Asa, that was hours ago,” I say flippantly, shrugging off his hand as he tries to grab my wrist. “You certainly took your fucking time. Were you in Timbuktu doing your friend a favour?”
“Jude, please,” he begs, finally cornering me in the lift. “My phone battery’s dead, but Jim rang Hayden to say your flight had been delayed, so I carried on working.” He pauses. “I hate being in that room on my own. I just wanted you to be here.”
“Hmm, so much so that you didn’t come to pick me up. You weren’t even due to work,” I accuse, and wince at the shrill note in my voice and the way that Asa is looking at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t think you’d mind. You always say that it’s such a media circus when I pick you up. I thought it made you uncomfortable.”
“It does, but I’d rather see you more.” I punch the button again. “Why the fuck is this lift taking so long?”
He takes my hand and curls it in his. “I’m so sorry,” he says passionately. “Please don’t be angry, Jude.” He looks at me searchingly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you angry.�
�� He shakes his head. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry,” I admit. “Or hurt.”
He jerks as if I’ve struck him, a look of horror on his face. “Oh God, don’t say that, Jude, please. I’m so sorry. I would rather cut off my arm than hurt you.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be so melodramatic. I can see where Billy gets it from. Anyway, you need your arm to wield a sword.”
He shakes his head, pulling me against him and hugging me tight, burying his face in the side of my neck and inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to ever hurt you, Jude. I just thought you wouldn’t mind. You don’t normally.”
Usually, Hayden isn’t in the equation, but something warns me not to say anything, or I’ll come across as severely neurotic.
Asa carries on talking. “I don’t know what happened. I thought I’d stop and work a bit longer once Hayden gave me Jim’s message about the flight being late. Then when we got back, I thought I’d wait in the bar so I’d see you as soon as you got here. I was going to ring you but…” He pauses.
“But what?”
“Hayden said you’d think I was pestering you and stifling you.”
“Oh really?” I say dangerously. “And Hayden suddenly has a role in our relationship, does he? I’m sorry, but I don’t remember taking a vote on that.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be like that, babe. I’ve known him for years, and he’s not like that. He was just giving friendly advice.”
“But my flight was never delayed. It landed on time. So why the lie?”
“Not a lie,” he says firmly. “Probably just a mistake.”
I stare at him. It’s the first time since we’ve been together that I’ve felt his stubbornness turned against me. Normally we’re on the same side, and it troubles me a great deal. I’m still not going to say anything, though.
Asa raises his head and stares into my eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he says sturdily. “Don’t be angry, Jude. I love you so much, and we haven’t got much time together. Please don’t waste it on being mad.”