A Cold Moon

by Mike Price

  “I’ll be back in a minute, I just need to use the loo,” she said and disappeared towards the bedroom. She had been gone a few minutes and he was beginning to wonder if everything was alright when she came back into the room… she was stark naked!

  From then on, her weekly sessions with her personal trainer took on a whole new regime, the strenuous exercises being replaced by equally exhausting manoeuvers, but now Peter was doing most of the work!

  Martin had noticed that, since she had taken to going to the gym, she had looked trimmer and had a glow about her; more importantly, she did not constantly bother him for sex, so it seemed to him that exercise was good for both of them.

  A week after Martin had placed the advert, the replies began to trickle in. Most he discarded without really taking much interest. If they were from anyone who was retired, he consigned them to the litterbin. He was looking for someone young with vitality and a crusading mind, someone who wanted to change the status quo. One letter that caught his eye was from a man of twenty-five who had just completed a postgraduate course in politics at Warwick University. He lived in Kenilworth and had no full time employment at the moment. He seemed perfect. Wasting no further time, Martin picked up the phone and dialled the mobile number printed at the head of the letter.

  “Hello, Tony Wright speaking.”

  “Tony, this is Martin De Glanville, you wrote saying you are interested in working for me as my agent.”

  “Oh yes, of course, thank you for contacting me.”

  “I’d like to pop up to Kenilworth and meet you to discuss the position in more detail. When would you be available?”

  “Anytime you like, I’m not working at the moment, taking a couple of months off after completing my exams, so I’m available to suit you.”

  “Okay, can we say this Friday, about six at my flat at the top of the High Street opposite the Hotel?” He gave Tony his full address, and both the flat’s phone number and also his mobile.

  “I know those flats, they’re the ones above the Almanac restaurant, aren’t they?”

  “That’s right. I’ll stop overnight, so if we need to meet again on Saturday, I won’t have to drag up and down that bloody MI.” He gave a chuckle, which Tony responded to similarly. “Good, I’ll see you Friday then.”

  “Thanks, Mr De Glanville.”

  “It’s Martin, if we are going to work together, we best get that clear up front.”

  “Sorry, thanks, Martin, see you Friday. Bye.”

  The line went dead. Seems a nice enough chap, Martin thought, but a bit shy, let’s hope that he loosens up when we meet.

  Martin looked at his watch, he was normally in the office by now, but fortunately, there was nothing pressing that his staff could not attend to. He called out to Maddy who was still dressing.

  “Maddy, I’m off now. Oh, by the way, I’m going up to Kenilworth on Friday afternoon and stopping overnight. I’ll be back Saturday afternoon. Don’t worry I’ll make sure I’m back in time to be ready for the Hamptons dinner party.” He had anticipated that she would immediately panic that they might miss another social gathering.

  She came out of the bedroom, still in her underwear.

  “What are you going up there for?” she asked.

  “To interview someone for the agent’s post, remember?”

  “Oh that bloody politics thing.”

  She turned and went back into the bedroom to finish dressing, her contempt for the whole thing plain to see on her face.

  She heard the door close as Martin left. Well, if Martin could play his silly games, she would at least play her own games. She picked up her mobile and dialled Peter’s number.

  “Can I treat you to dinner on Friday evening?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Martin arrived at his flat just after five and checked the post stacked on the kitchen worktop, just the usual rubbish of circulars and begging letters from charities. When he bought the apartment, he found a lady who came in once a week to clean his flat and check everything was okay. She had been recommended by one of the other owners. He had not seen her since that first meeting and sent her money direct to her bank on the first of each month, in advance. The place was spotless, it had been money well spent and although he knew she had very little to do each week, at least it would not accumulate dust as even empty houses do. He had phoned her to let her know he would be staying overnight, and asked her to get him some milk and bread. At least, he would be able to make a drink and have some breakfast.

  He made himself a cup of coffee and settled down to wait for Tony Wright to turn up. Precisely on the dot of six, the intercom buzzed.

  “Hello, is that Martin? It’s Tony Wright.”

  “Yes, come on up, just push the door, I’ve unlocked it.”

  A couple of minutes’ later, there was a knock on his door. Tony Wright was slim, had sandy hair combed over to one side, which made him look even younger than he was. He wore glasses, which gave him a studious look. On the face of it, he was perfect for the role. Martin wanted someone non-descript so that at meetings and public appearances the audience would focus their attention on him, and no one else.

  Tony followed him into the apartment and Martin pointed to one of the armchairs.

  “Take a seat. Would you like coffee?”

  “Thanks, milk and two sugars please.”

  Martin panicked for a moment; he had not asked Mrs Black to get sugar. But when he opened the cupboard, he found some packets in a dish and also some tea bags, neither of which he had thought to ask for. What a treasure, he thought.

  Once the coffee was made, Martin sat opposite Tony in the other armchair and explained exactly what he was looking for. He took some time to reassure Tony that he did not expect him to have the knowledge of an experienced agent, on the contrary, he wanted someone new and fresh, but who believed, as he did, on breaking the mould of the old two party system with its inherent corruption.

  Tony listened without interruption as Martin gave him a brief history of his abortive attempt at becoming a Tory candidate including his disappointment at not being chosen. He explained that he genuinely wanted to give something back to society and felt hurt by the attitude of the local Tory party. It had been the revelations in the Daily Telegraph that had fired him up, making him decide to stand as an anti-sleaze candidate. He outlined his views on Europe, Trident, the war in Afghanistan and a fairer tax system, but the fundamental thrust of his platform was to rid parliament of its leeches.

  Martin finished speaking and drained the remains of his coffee, which by now had gone cold.

  “Well, Tony, what do you think? Does it appeal to you or are you already committed to a party?”

  Tony looked at him. He had sat listening for the last half hour without interrupting or asking questions. During his studies, he had made a point of attending all the major parties’ conferences, being able to gain attendance as part of his course work. He had tried to keep an open mind, finding there were parts of each of the party’s manifestos which he agreed with and parts he did not. In short, he was what is known as a floating voter and felt if he wanted to pursue a career in political journalism, then it was better to stay on the fence. Martin De Glanville was different. During his discourse outlining his views, he had not once criticised any of the other parties. There was nothing negative about him, a trait sadly lacking in many of the speeches he had witnessed at conferences. In fact, the only anger he had shown was towards individual MPs who had abused the trust placed in them by the electorate, but the most important factor that struck Tony was that this man had genuine charisma. He had wanted to interrupt him a couple of times, but had been almost mesmerised into listening to him.

  “Well, Tony?” Martin prompted him. It had been a few seconds since he first asked the question and Martin had wondered if had just lost interest or worse, been bored.

  “I would love to help you if you t
hink I’m up to it. I have a little knowledge of what would be expected from my studies, most of it is common sense. We would need a small office and, once the election is called, some part-time staff to send out literature, etcetera. I know of a local printer who could do all the brochures, its run by two brothers. I was at Warwick school with the younger of the two. I can also sort out the computers for the office from another ex-school friend. I can…”

  “Hey, slow down.” Martin laughed. He had taken an instant liking to Tony and was genuinely pleased by his enthusiasm. “I take it you’re in then. We need to discuss your remuneration and hours.”

  “Martin, I would definitely like to work with you and from what you have said so far, I will accept anything you offer. I believe you’re a fair man and won’t rip me off, plus it will be good experience for me.”

  Martin was touched by his remarks. It was a strange alliance in many ways as they were so different, but in a short time, a bond had been formed that Martin was sure would last a long time.

  It was eight o’clock and Martin was feeling hungry.

  “I’m going to get a bite to eat, would you like to join me?”

  “That’s very kind of you but I’ve arranged to see my girlfriend, sorry.”

  “No problem, but as you know the area, can you recommend anywhere?”

  “We have an abundance of restaurants. What do you like, Indian, Chinese or Bistro?”

  “Do you know of a Thai restaurant?”

  “There is one in Coventry and one in Leamington, both owned by the same people and both very good. The one in Coventry is perhaps the easiest to find.”

  He wrote down some directions for Martin. All he had to do was take the A46 into Coventry, head for the city until he hit the ring road, then go all the way round the island back on himself and it was about fifty yards on the left.

  Tony stood up and held out his hand which Martin shook vigorously. There was no need for a written contract of any sort, the agreement had been sealed in that handshake.

  Martin walked to the door and watched Tony make his way to the stairs. He was pleased that things had gone so well. He must remember to get his secretary to write a reply to the other applicants. He was happy with his gut instinct, which had again proved to be his trusted ally.

  He tidied away the coffee cups, putting them in the dishwasher and decided he would have a quick shower just to freshen up. He had not bought a change of clothing, other than clean underwear, as he only intended to stop for the one night. He would set off back to London first thing in the morning.

  Within fifteen minutes, he was ready and took the lift to the basement where the car was parked. It was just twenty to nine when he entered the restaurant. He was pleased to see that it was busy but still with a couple of empty tables. He hated dining in restaurants that were empty and had no atmosphere. The Thai Dusit was not one of those.

  He ordered his meal with a glass of Chablis, a bottle, although he could have drunk it, would be too much, and anyway, he had decided he would pop into a pub after his meal and try the local bitter.

  The meal was delicious and he made a mental note to thank Tony for his recommendation, he would certainly come again. He thought if he could persuade Maddy to come with him on his next visit, this was just the place she would enjoy. He wondered what she was doing, probably curled up in bed watching the TV. He considered phoning her but thought better of it. She would not be pleased if he interrupted her evening’s entertainment.

  It was only ten o’clock and there was plenty of time for a couple of pints before he went back to the apartment. If he had one in Coventry and then drove back to Kenilworth, he could park the car in the basement, then call in at the Bistro in his block for a nightcap.

  He called the waiter over and asked if there was a pub within walking distance, so he didn’t have to navigate his way through uncharted territory. The waiter’s English was not very good, but he managed to explain that a pub called Rainbows was just over the road, however, he had never been, so did not know if it was ‘good’ or not. Martin thanked him and said he would try it. He paid his bill and left a large tip. Martin, for all his wealth, was not noted as a generous tipper, he got very angry at restaurants that expected ten to fifteen percent whatever the service. He always tipped well if he had been looked after and refused to give a tip if the service was poor. His favourite watering holes had learnt this lesson very early and now he was always given the best service.

  He left the restaurant and found his way to Rainbow’s; he felt relaxed and strangely liberated, as he was unknown in this area and would not bump into any of his friends or associates. No one here knew he was rich; he could just be an ordinary man having a quiet drink.

  He walked into the pub and was immediately struck by the décor, which was like no other pub he had ever been in. The walls were painted in pink and purple colours and the lighting was subdued. There were tables in alcoves where the lighting was almost non-existent. There were a number of people in the bar but it was not crowded. He could hardly make them out, but he was sure that they were all men. He walked up to the bar and ordered a pint. The barman, who wore a vest and was covered in tattoos, looked at him rather strangely, as he poured the drink. Martin stood there sipping his pint slowly whilst looking around for an empty table.

  A young man of about nineteen sat on a stool at the end of the bar; he was drinking what looked like coke but no doubt was something stronger.

  “You’re new,” he said, directing his comment at Martin.

  Martin thought it a strange way of opening a conversation, as the lad moved down the bar towards him.

  “Yes, I’m up from London, had some business in Kenilworth and was recommended to the Thai restaurant over the road. Have you ever been there?”

  “No, but I’d like to go some time.”

  Martin had never had such an unusual conversation; it did not follow any normal pattern that he had known. He looked at the lad. He seemed fairly ordinary, a white T-shirt and denim jeans, and the obligatory trainers young men seem to wear all the time. What was different was his hair; it was a mass of curls and was carrot red. Martin also noticed, now that he was closer to him, the lad was broad shouldered with a body builder’s physic.

  “What’s your name?” the young man asked.

  Martin was slightly taken aback by this direct approach.

  “Martin,” he replied.

  “I’m Joe, pleased to meet you.” The lad held out his hand.

  Martin shook his hand, the boy had a firm grip and Martin could feel the strength of his powerful body just in that handshake. Joe smiled at him… they were still holding hands.

  Martin looked at the boy. There was something different about him, he felt strangely drawn to the lad. It was a feeling he had never really experienced before.

  "Is this your first time? Joe asked.

  “I beg your pardon,” Martin spluttered. “First time for what?”

  “First time in a gay bar.”

  Martin’s jaw dropped open. He looked around and then the penny dropped, the pink and purple, the subdued lighting. It all fell into place. He did not move, still in a state of shock.

  “You mean you didn’t know?” Joe was trying to stop breaking into a laugh. “I’m sorry, are you okay?” He reached his hand out to Martin as a gesture of compassion. Martin did not resist the action.

  Martin was confused; he felt an attraction to this young man that he could not explain to himself. He took a long drink of his beer trying to collect his thoughts together.

  “Would you like to go somewhere else for a drink?”

  Martin heard him ask the question, but was miles away.

  “Would you like to leave, Martin?”

  Still in a dream, Martin nodded his head and they left. Their drinks remained unfinished on the counter.

  Outside, the cold air hit him, bringing him ’round in a second, like waving a towel over a flagging boxer.

  “I have an apartment in Kenilw
orth, would you like to come over for a nightcap?” Martin heard himself asking the boy.

  “I’d love to.”

  They walked across the road to where the Ferrari was parked.

  “Fucking hell, is this yours?” Joe almost exploded.

  “Yes, get in.” Martin smiled at the lad’s delight.

  The engine roared into life and Joe sat there mesmerised by the dashboard. It was like the cockpit of an airplane. He had never been near a Ferrari before, let alone in one.

  Martin did not speak on the drive back to Kenilworth, his mind in a whirl at the events of the evening. He kept asking himself what on earth had compelled him to invite this young man back to his apartment, but the more he raised the question, the more it seemed to be the natural thing to do.

  He parked the car in its bay in the basement and switched off the engine. Joe followed him out of the car to the lift, alighting at the second floor. It was not until they were inside that Joe broke the silence.

  “This must have cost a few bob,” he said, looking around at the white leather chairs and the forty-six-inch TV in the corner.

  Martin smiled at the young man.

  “Would you like a drink? I’m afraid I don’t have much of a variety to offer. I’ve got gin, whisky and some brandy, any good?”

  “I’ll have a whisky please.”

  Martin poured two large whiskies and handed one to Joe.

  “Cheers.” Joe chinked his glass against Martin’s. “Here’s to us and the future.”

  “Would you like some music?” Without waiting for an answer, Martin moved across the room and pressed the remote control, switching on the iPod. The steady beat of Bolero filled the room.

  “I’ve not heard this one in the top twenty,” Joe said with a chuckle.

  “Oh sorry, don’t you like it? I’m afraid I don’t have any popular music.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s quite good.”

  The music was steadily building in the background as Joe reached his hand out to Martin. He stroked Martin’s arm then his cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle for a strong man. Martin did not resist, did not want to resist, a warm feeling passing over him as Joe came closer and kissed him. They held the kiss for some time, neither wanting to be the first to break away. Martin had never been kissed like that before. It was soft and tender, not like Maddy who always had to push her tongue down his throat as if she was eating him. He could feel the excitement in the boy’s embrace and his heartbeat quickened, looking down, he noticed that other parts of his body were reacting as well!