“Could you order me one?”
My eyes nearly pop out. “OH MY GOD YES!” I shout.
She stares at me a moment, then blinks once. “Thank you.”
I scamper off to the bar, order another mojito, and carry it back, placing it carefully in front of Leila, who is busy on her phone, probably influencing people and other important stuff. If I’m nice to her, she might like me, and if she likes me she might help me. If I can just get a pic of her and me to post, or even better, if I can be tagged in one of her photos which she posts, I will be over the moon and this will totally be number one best day ever and take that Dylan and Tariq, who’s the victor now, baby?!
“How much do I owe you?” she says.
I shake my head.
She rolls her eyes, pulls a fiver out of her bag, and puts it on the table between us. I just look at it. I don’t want to take it. “It’s fine,” I say. “You can get the next one.” I clock the look of surprise in her eyes. “Not that there will necessarily be a ‘next one’, I’m not saying…” I lick my lips. Why am I like this? I can’t even think straight. “Just to be clear, I’m gay.”
She looks up from sipping her drink. “And you’re telling me that because?”
“Oh, I was worried I was sort of making it sound like this was a date, which…” Shut up, Jack! “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m fanboying all over you. I’m so embarrassed, I’m so sorry.” I sit back in the sofa. “I’m Jack, by the way.”
Now she smiles. “Hey, Jack.”
“Hey.”
“Sorry, I’m not normally as morose as this, but, as per, crap is kicking off online.” She rolls her eyes.
“Yeah?” I say.
She nods. “Call me intolerant and close-minded – which is in fact what some people are calling me – but I don’t think certain influencers should make bold claims online about how drinking beetroot juice and turmeric can cure everything from diabetes to cancer, without, you know, just a small shred of medical evidence.”
“Ohhhh.”
“It’s one thing being slung some cash for saying you like some make-up that’s actually relatively shit, but messing with people’s health?” She whistles. “It’s low. And it’s wrong.”
“You’ve spoken out. You’ve done the right thing.”
She gives me a small smile. “Well, I think so, but apparently that just means I’m ‘in the pay of big pharma’ and these days every opinion must be respected, even when it’s clearly bullshit, so what can you do?”
I sip my drink. My god, I had no idea this influencer thing was so complex. I just want some free clothes and to be one of the ones who get a free Virgin Atlantic flight.
“You know what this mojito needs?”
“Rum. It needs rum.”
She nods solemnly.
“To be honest,” I continue, “I only ordered it because all the others have tacky names – Sex on the Beach? Screaming Orgasm? I thought this was a classy joint.”
She laughs. “So what’s a classy boy like you doing here?”
“Well, there’s a thing…” I say. And I tell her. I tell her it all. I keep it as brief as I can, highlights, bullet points, anything I’ve said that’s particularly witty or clever.
“Your ex dumped you at prom?” she says, when I’ve finished.
“Oh, you’re back at the start? Yes. That’s basically the shape of it.” I drop my eyes, but when I glance up again, she’s staring at me with pity.
“That’s so shitty,” she says. “Actually, that’s just terrible behaviour.”
I shrug. “Well, hey, things happen.”
She studies me for a moment. “Why aren’t you more angry? Isn’t this what this whole highlights reel is about? Revenge?”
“Maybe.”
She nods. “I could get on board with that.”
I laugh. It comes out a little nervous. “What do you mean?”
“Jack, you might be exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
I’m all ears. Literally, I just want to hear everything she is about to say.
“Influencing is so much bullshit. All I’m doing is using my platform to sell people crap. But what you need is sweet, sweet revenge. So much worthier! And so much fun!” She grins at me, eyes sparkling. “Maybe I could help you? Maybe I could see what I could do to get you some shots he’ll be envious of.” She slurps the last of her mojito. “How about a festival?”
My eyes widen. “Um, yes!”
“I’m doing a promo for one in a couple of days, I could easily swing some extra passes for you and Nate.”
This is all too fabulous. And then I remember the slight issue. “Um, I might need one or two more, you see—”
She smiles at me. “Aww, I wondered how you were getting about when you’re not even old enough to buy alcohol. You’re with your parents, aren’t you?”
I feel my cheeks heat up a bit. “Kinda.”
“Cute.”
The worst word that any boy hates being described as.
“That’s fine, Jack. It’s a family-friendly festival, so actually a real family would be fine. I’m going to give you my number…” She holds her hand out for my phone and I watch, mesmerized, as she types it in.
“I won’t sell it on any forums,” I tell her when she hands it back to me.
She frowns. “Wow. Thanks.”
“OK, but I’m just saying. You can trust me.”
“Message me tomorrow for the deets,” she continues, ignoring me. “And let’s really show your horrible exes just what an amazing summer you’re having!”
*
There’s absolutely no point in asking his dad – it’s Nate’s mum who makes the decisions in this family, so it’s her I must persuade. I have an angle, I just hope she goes for it.
“Afternoon!” I chirp, approaching her sun lounger by the side of the pool. She’s wearing a floppy sun hat and a white linen smock, and honestly, her skin is so pale I’m worried she’s going to do herself an injury sitting out in the sun like this. “Some much needed R and R, I see!”
She takes her sunglasses off. “Are you boys having a nice day?”
“One word – fabulous.”
She laughs. “It is nice here. Where’s my son and does he still have an attitude problem?”
I sit down on the edge of the lounger next to her. “This thing with Tariq hit him hard. I’m working on it.” I swallow, my stomach heavy. “You know, he’s been actually laughing with Elliot…”
“They still get on well, do they?”
“Oh, yes, they … really well. You know, I was thinking, maybe Elliot could come along with us for a bit? If you guys don’t mind. I think … Nate might really like that?”
She meets my eyes, trying to work me out. She’ll have a job; I’m not sure I can work me out. I’m just doing a nice thing for Nate – so why do I feel kinda weird and sad about it? “Does Nate like him?” she says.
“Pfft. How should I know? I don’t know.” Really now, she should know the rules: parents don’t get to ask their kid’s mates about stuff like that.
She leans towards me. “Say no more,” she whispers, giving me a wink.
“OK, then.”
“This trip is all about going with the flow, because as Mick keeps telling me, I’m lacking spontaneity!”
I seize my chance. “OK, well, that’s a good motto to live your life by—”
“It really isn’t.”
“OK, but sometimes living in and for the moment can be a—”
“Really stupid thing to do.”
“OK, but also it can be—”
“Irresponsible.”
“And—”
“A recipe for waking up in one, two or five years’ time with a truckload of debt, no pension, and the only thing you have to show for it is some photos of some donkey trek in Peru.”
“OK, but—”
“Oh! The stories you’ll be able to tell, though!” She smiles, looking wistfully into the distance.
“Ex
actly!”
“Which is lucky, because stories are all you will have, as you freeze to death while eating pot noodles in a damp bedsit because you didn’t bother getting a job, but at least you ‘lived life’.”
“How do you fancy attending a festival?”
“Jack.” She closes and opens her eyes slowly. “No.”
My eyes widen. “OK, but festivals are fun.”
“Jack,” she says. “A festival? Really? Think of the germs.”
“And the fun!” I say. “Just for one or two nights? See, we’ve been given free tickets by an Instagram influencer I met, and it’s a family festival, which means it won’t be full of people on drugs.”
“They’ll just be less obvious about it, but trust me, it will be.”
“I think Nate might like it…”
She narrows her eyes. “Clever move. Now mine. Only on condition you all attend, without complaint, a day that I have planned tomorrow.”
I purse my lips. “What … what type of day?”
“You have to agree to it.”
“Is it shopping? Can we go shopping? Is there a Zara we could hang out in for a bit?” If it was that, we could definitely do the “hashtag gifted” post I’ve been dying for.
“Jack, you have to agree. I’m not telling you. Live for the moment, go with the flow, remember?”
I mean, how bad could it be? This is Nate’s mum we’re talking about, she’s hardly going to put us all in mortal danger doing something humiliating, way out of our comfort zone.
“You have a deal,” I say.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
NATE
Jack has literally been gone all day, so I’m guessing his pursuit of the legendary “pool boy” he mentioned went well. I was a bit sad, though. After he mentioned Jack and Nate’s Paranormal Investigations, I got thinking about all the other hilarious stuff we used to get up to – sure, there was the detective agency where we basically accused my next-door neighbour of brutally murdering his wife and burying her under the patio (in fact, she had gone to Scunthorpe for a week, which, in fairness, is actually worse), but also there was the two-man production of Wicked we mounted in Jack’s lounge, and the craft shop we opened, selling homemade bookmarks and potpourri. I mean, I don’t want to be stereotypical, but did everyone know we were gay before we did? They were great days, and part of me wanted to laugh with him more about all that stuff. But he went off, like Jack does, doing his thing, and, well…
Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been with Elliot all day, and what a day it’s been. After the massage we went to the spa. We tried the sauna but my anxiety about the possibility of a door malfunction kicked in, and I started to panic about how we would be slowly cooked alive, so we had to go. Elliot was fine about it, though, and because the other spa users were (a) a lot of hairy old men in Speedos and (b) a drunken hen party who kept yelling at Elliot to “get yer tits out” even though Elliot doesn’t have tits he can get out, we decided to leave. So we played table tennis, then we had some lunch (ham and cheese toastie), then we had a swim, then we played giant chess, then giant Connect 4, then Elliot signed us up for a tour of local spots of supernatural interest by renowned local “ghost hunter” Dr Edith D’eath, (not a made-up name, they had the gall to claim), and I had to say, “Elliot, can we not just have a sit-down?” And he was fine with that, so we had a sit-down, and now I’m here in reception, knackered, and waiting for my parents so we can get on the road again. Elliot is sitting next to me on the sofa, his leg pressed against mine (not deliberately, I think, he’s just spatially unaware), as he literally talks about whatever is in his head at any given moment.
“Aren’t those flowers nice on the table? I got given flowers on Valentine’s Day this year, can you believe it? At school! Well, not flowers, just a single rose, I thought it must be from my mum but it turned out it was this girl called Molly, I actually pricked my finger on the thorn and I thought, oh no, maybe now I’ll fall asleep for a thousand years… Oh, that’s spinning wheels, isn’t it? What even is a spinning wheel? Do people still use them? Oh, hi, Mum—”
“Elliot,” she says, standing in front of us. “Nate’s parents have very kindly asked if you’d like to join them for part of their road trip.”
OK, that’s total news to me, and I have no idea why they wouldn’t ask me first, but, hey, Elliot’s cool so I guess it’ll be fun. Elliot is now buzzing with excitement about the idea, which is very sweet, and actually, now things are a bit easier between me and Jack, maybe we’ll all start to have a better time.
“Roooooooaaaaaad triiiiiiiip!” Elliot squeals.
He wants to high-five me. I let him.
“OK, so,” his mum continues, “you don’t have enough underwear, so—”
“Mu-um,” Elliot growls. “I can buy underwear. I’m a man of means now.”
“Fine,” she says. “Just make sure you do. I know what you boys are like, you’d happily run around in the same pants for a week if you could.”
Elliot slaps his forehead. “Lies! Stereotypes!”
“Right, well, have fun, and—”
Elliot’s eyes widen, waiting, I’ve no doubt, for the thing parents always say, even with a hint of a joke in their voice (despite meaning it), about not “doing anything they wouldn’t do” which basically means have sex, take drugs, drink, or perform motorcycle stunts without a helmet through hoops of fire over hundred-foot drops. Sensibly, he doesn’t even let her start. “I will! I will!” he says. “I’ll be sensible. I’ll call you. I won’t do any of the things you’re fretting about, and if I do, I won’t tell you.”
“Don’t get a tattoo,” she says.
Elliot holds his hands out, like WTF?
She narrows her eyes. “Or a piercing.”
“Not even get my nipple pierced?” he grins.
“We’ve been through this, and, no.” She cocks her head. “OK?”
“OK.”
“We good?”
“Uh-huh.”
She nods at Elliot, and he nods back. Then he stands up and gives her a hug. “Love you, miss you,” he says.
She pecks him on the cheek.
As she goes, he turns to me and says in a deliberately loud whisper, “Right! Let’s download Grindr and lie about our age!” Then waves and gives her a thumbs-up.
“Who dis?” I say, as Jack rounds the corner and bounds up to us.
“Boys,” Jack says, squeezing himself between me and Elliot on the sofa. He stretches his arms out across each of our shoulders and pulls us into him. “So, I’ve been busy making plans, networking, and so on. Long story short, met Leila Bhatia in the actual living flesh…” He waits for some reaction from me or Elliot, but obviously he gets none because I’ve literally no idea who that is. “Aaand, thanks to all my charms, I’ve bagged us VIP free tickets for a festival, so yay for me! Any questions or compliments?”
“Yes,” I say. “My mum will never agree to a festival.”
“Aha!” Jack says.
I briefly close my eyes. “What have you done?”
“She’s agreed to it! Yay for me again! Any further questions or compliments?”
“No, Jack,” I say. “My mother does not simply agree to us going to a festival. What did you say to her exactly?”
Jack runs his tongue along his lips. “Anything is possible, when you’re prepared to give and take. We have something we want to do; she has something she wants us to do.”
“Oh, no,” I mutter. “You’ve made a pact with the devil.”
“What’s the worst it could be?” Jack smiles. “Come on! What’s the worst thing it could possibly be?”
I take a deep breath. “An outward bound centre where we’re forced to do something in water with a load of other kids our age.”
Jack nods, tight-lipped.
“Jack?” I say.
“OK, so it’s an outward bound centre with some other kids our age, OK, yes, but I’m not sure there’s water involved.”
“What’s t
he centre called?”
Jack chews his lip. “White Water Lakes.”
“Right,” I say. “Well, that’s it. We’re fucked.” Just as I dared to imagine we might start having a good time, this happens, because THIS IS MY LIFE SO OF COURSE IT DOES!
“It sounded fine!” Jack protests.
“Argh! This is what she does! She’s always trying to get me to do things she thinks her nightmare sister and my insanely critical grandma would approve of! Seriously, it’s always awful museums for their educational value, bloody art galleries, frickin’ anything involving physical exertion in the outdoors because my grandma comes from a generation who think boys especially need wholesome physical pursuits else we’ll just wank ourselves to death. You’ve literally just given her everything she’s ever dreamed of!”
“OK, well, I was just trying to do a nice thing for us,” Jack mutters.
We sit in silence for a bit until Elliot says, “Kid at my school actually died kayaking.”
I take an unsteady breath.
There’s a lot of huffing and banging to my right. “Don’t worry, you healthy, fit boys just relax while your ageing parents and small sister pack all the luggage back into the van!” It’s Mum, with Dad and Rose in tow.
“I didn’t know where you were, nobody tells me anything, as per.”
She gives me a very pleased-with-herself smile. A smile that basically says, Joke’s on you, you’re gonna be in a canoe within twenty-four hours!
“Hear you’re joining us, Elliot?” Dad says.
“Buzzing!” Elliot grins.
Rose rolls her eyes. “Just what this sausage party needs – more sausage.”
“Rose!” I’m totally outraged. What the hell? “You can’t say things like that! Where did you even get that from?”
Rose shrugs.
“Probably just one of those Disney Channel shows,” Mum says, tapping her phone. “Why isn’t Google Maps loading?”
I screw my face up. “Really, Mum? Really? I’m pretty confident that’s one phrase that’s never been broadcast on Disney Channel, but only I seem bothered, so that’s cool.”
Jack leaps up and takes Rose’s hand. “You are hilarious and I love that, and as reward, I’m going to tell you a magical story during the journey, would you like that?” Jack smiles at me maliciously.
Heartbreak Boys Page 17