Burn After Reading
January 2020
“Thanks for meeting me.” Dean smiled a little sheepishly. He’d come to a coffee shop off Canada Square to meet one of his consultants, Dexter ‘Dex’ Bailey. Dex was in his mid-twenties, plucked from Imperial College London on a graduate scheme the year before, he reminded Dean of himself when he started at Plutus. He was terrifyingly intelligent but kind.
“Hey, man! Good to see you. All right?” Dex’s thick Mancunian accent cut through the delicate chatter of their fellow patrons. A few heads turned. Dean giggled.
“Yeah, yeah. All good. Listen, I appreciate this is a little different. I wanted to run something by you, and only you. The email invite said Annual Review but forget that. On that topic, keep doing what you’re doing. The end. Yes, a pay rise is coming, you’ll get an email to confirm.” Dean settled into the conversation. There was no pretence, no proving yourself with every syllable that flew out of your mouth. Unlike his conversations with fellow directors.
“Ah Dean man, you’re such a softy, that was the most beautiful appraisal I’ve ever received.” He slapped his arm playfully.
“Off the record? Fuck off.” Dean grinned again.
Dex wiped his long brown hair out of his face and frowned. “You didn’t ask me all the way here for a cuppa so what’s going on?”
Dean shifted and looked out of the window and around the room as if he were looking for someone who might be monitoring them. His sense of panic sparking inside him. Always. He leant his elbows on the table. “Ok. You’ve heard about this virus going around? I think it’s only a matter of time before we’re caught up in some full-scale national emergency. Luckily for us, we can shift online completely and send everyone to work from their homes. My concern is that there’s a greater risk of cyber-attacks being made on not just ours but other businesses out there. You watch, once this thing hits, you’ll see who’s continued to prioritise cyber security investment. Mark my words, government departments will be the first to be attacked and likely, successfully.”
“Ok. I’m listening.” Dex wrung his hands together and smiled keenly.
“This is where you come in. Remember the cyber defence programme prototype you created as part of your pitch to me for the grad scheme placement?”
“One of my finest pieces of art.”
“I’ll say. I’m so glad no one else got eyes on it. It’s perfect. If they could, the government, defence, and even security agencies would get it off you for a knockdown price. Not fucking happening.” Dean flicked his index finger with a shake in front of Dex’s face.
“You think?”
“Of course. What you created, shuts down entire infrastructures if an attack is attempted, and allows selected users to root out the entry point of the attack, all while seemingly remaining disabled to perpetrators. Then able to restore full functionality of said infrastructure once the risk has been removed.”
“Dean? Dean?! I know.” Dex wasn’t sure if he was witnessing Dean becoming excited or panicking.
“Ok. So this is why I’ve brought you here. I’ve given it some venom. Your prototype looked exclusively at network-based attacks, but with what’s coming we needed to go further. I’ve been building out the programme to cover malware, the web and any possible social engineering attacks too. So should we have a thick-as-shit homeworker leaving a device open to abuse or a nasty little bastard wanting to make a quick few quid by allowing access to our network, we can stop it dead.”
“Fuckin ey’ man!” Dex almost jumped up out of his chair.
“Sssh. I’m giving you this. Take it home and keep it safe. Read the instructions, memorise them and burn after reading. I know that sounds ridiculous but I mean it.” Dean slid a gift bag, Dex assumed to minimise non-existent suspicion from possible onlookers to him under the table.
At Dean’s request, they went separately back to the office. Dean didn’t have any need to feel that the organisation was under threat or that he was being watched, but if his panic attacks over the years had ever taught him anything it was to trust instincts. His hadn’t ever been wrong.
Dex,
Laptop enclosed. Preinstalled with said cyber defence programme and connected to Plutus’ network. Only we know this laptop exists. I have my own.
You’ll notice I’ve christened your creation. Welcome to Bia. Bit of a mythology lesson for you. She’s the Greek goddess of violence. Seemed fitting. Anyone unleashing hell on our business will have chosen violence. And here she is.
Keep this burner phone charged and on at all times. We’re the IT guys, we’re always on duty. The only number in your phone book is my burner.
Bia is only to be launched by either of us with my authorisation.
To execute the programme, a text or phone call will suffice. Our code phrase:
KILL IT
Congratulations on creating the most complex and robust cyber defence platform I’ve ever seen in my career. I hope we never have to use your work.
D.
Dean went back to the office and sat for a moment. Almost a little in shock he’d managed to deliver Bia to Dex without any interruption.
Dex followed Dean’s instructions to the letter when he got home that night. He stowed the laptop and burner away in his safe. Hoping they’d never need to be used.
February 2020
Life in Marlow was perfect. Quiet. Peaceful. Day after day of the same. To most, this was the holy grail. Balance achieved. Finally. Jamie couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing for their old lives. He missed the city. The brutality. The prospect of your day beginning in one way and ending as something completely different. Being inspired creatively just by walking the streets of the city. Striking a deal with a fashion house while making small talk at a party. Dining in a new and exciting restaurant simply because you’d taken a wrong turn on a street. Endless possibilities for stimulation and memories.
He felt guilty, this was a dream of theirs, the fact they were so easily able to live their dreams when they wanted made him stop each time before saying something.
It was a Saturday in late February and Jamie was still lost in those feelings. His daze was broken. Dean bounded in from the office room and jumped on the sofa next to him. Jamie closed his eyes, picturing the huge brown leather L-shaped one he loved in Notting Hill. Now it was a neat and prim family sofa. Matching cushions, matching blankets. Everything matched.
“I have news!” Dean grabbed his shoulders and shook him. Jamie tried to push his ungrateful feelings to the back of his head and snapped his eyes open.
“Hey, what news? I love news.” His tone was flatter than he’d intended.
Dean stumbled over the lacklustre reaction but pressed on. “Uh, yeah, well we’ve had the plans through for the renovations. That whole new wing for a gym and studio space for your fashion stuff. We just need to get builders on board. I…, Jamie what’s wrong?”
Jamie couldn’t see him hurt. Lifting a palm to his face. “What a beautiful face. I never want to see it look sad.”
“I’m just worried why you’re not excited.” Dean kissed his palm.
“Oh, I am. The renovations look perfect. To add to the perfect house. In a perfect area. Everything is perfect.” Jamie started to laugh, feebly trying to mask a sigh.
“Most people would say that’s a pretty damn nice way to live life. Why are you mocking me?” Dean recoiled back on the sofa.
Jamie jumped onto him and laced his hands around his neck. He adored the commitment Dean had to their lives. Every day, bringing home new plans, and developments in their search to make the house a home, like a retriever bringing home a stick from a walk, proudly. Jamie’s heart broke each time. He was the only perfect thing. Everyone should have a Dean. Those huge blue eyes were full of hope and love. He just wanted the world to be beautiful for his little family.
“I’d never mock you. I’m sorry. I hate myself for saying what I’m about to say.” Jamie slumped back, the weight of what he was going to say, heavy on his shoulders.
Dean grabbed his chin. He knew what Jamie was going to say before he said it. Ten years together will do that. He smiled. “Go on.”
“Hmm, I feel like I’ve been rumbled.” Jamie pressed his forefinger on Dean’s lips. He never got over the softness of the bounce when he pushed against them. A little kiss would follow as he brought his finger back. Every time.
“Maybe.” Dean slipped his palms to Jamie’s waist. The neat compactness of him was hard not to grab.
“For the record. I love this place. It’s so beautiful. I just, I just….”
“Miss London? The city life? The hustle and bustle? The randomness of each day? The creativity at your fingertips when you least expect it? Inspiration at every corner?”
Jamie play punched his cheek. “You got it.” He paused. What could he say to make this admission better? “It’s not that I want to leave here but I just feel like I’ve cut myself off from a place I did love. London can kick your arse one day and be the love of your life the next.” He paused. “The second love of your life of course.” He shrugged. He twitched on Dean’s lap. He didn’t know what to expect.
“Well, let’s make a deal. Get the renovations complete and then see how you feel. Yes, a home is a brilliant achievement together, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have more. Maybe you’ll feel different then, maybe you won’t. We can move. I’m happy wherever you are.” Dean accepted Jamie’s feelings. He had to. He was more concerned about Jamie’s happiness than a new leisure wing.
Jamie was relieved at Dean’s acceptance. But then came guilt. Here was a man trying to make their future better and all he was doing was looking behind them. He expected a protest that never came. Their plans were thrown into oblivion in the weeks that followed, little to their knowledge in that quiet reflective moment. Decisions would be taken completely out of their hands for the months that followed.
March 2020
Everything changed in the next couple of weeks.
Dean had sensed the impending shift online for those who could work from their homes. Sending his entire IT division home the moment the pandemic was declared by the World Health Organisation on 11th March. As with most top bosses, Hugo was more concerned with business continuity and bottom lines than protecting workers from a respiratory disease. Clinging to Canada Square until the very end. “Can’t trust people at home.” He would mutter as the idea of remote working wasn’t mooted at a recent directors meeting. Dean rolled his eyes privately in his office. No, it’s about saving lives you prick.
At home, nerves were fraying, too. Understandably. As the headline was declared on the BBC News on March 11th, Jamie was wringing his hands and silently biting his lips. A metallic taste in his mouth. Sick with nerves or sick with dread. His immediate thought: his parents.
“I’m not going to tell you how to feel. This is huge weird and unnerving for everyone. But you’ve got to talk to me.” Dean pleaded. He kept his distance at the other end of the sofa. Waiting for Jamie to signal what he wanted or needed him. “Babe?”
“Huh?” The thought of his mother and father on the frontline of what this might turn out to be petrified him. To the point, he hadn’t heard him. “Sorry uh. Dean…” Jamie flew at him and nestled his face in his neck. “I can’t stop thinking about my mum and dad. They could be redeployed if their work is cancelled or pushed back with all this. Fuck, they could die.” Jamie wailed into his neck. These sobs hadn’t come for years, the splash of tears down his cheeks, soaking Dean’s shirt, the shuddering, the uncontrollable spittle bubbling from his mouth. He needed Dean to tell him everything would be ok. But he was quiet because he absolutely could not. He squeezed Jamie against his chest. Hoping his breathing would soothe him.
He reasoned that he should speak with his parents about what details they could provide. Not to let his mind escape and play cruel tricks on him, going to the murky depths of what-ifs. Jamie agreed. It was futile, the NHS was reacting as quickly as it could and to the horror of the nation, was learning about this new disease at the same pace as everyone else. Lambs to the slaughter. Jamie froze with terror when any headline pinged on his phone or the television. Dean had no words. Just a palm to the back of his neck to calm when he could.
Jamie had already adopted a nomadic style of working. The necessity for remote working during the pandemic was not a huge upheaval for his team. Following the closure of Connect, Jamie immediately established The Arden Agency. He took Sally with him, taking her from receptionist to his assistant, and adopting a core group of executives. “Work at home. Meet your clients in the city. See your families. See your friends. This is a happy place to work. If you’re not happy, I’m doing something wrong!” He would regularly remind his staff.
He was appalled at the apathy his fellow Connect business leads held for the lower levels of the business. Watching them happily accept resignations or make redundancies that didn’t need to happen. He’d heard through sources that their careers following Connect had stalled, forgetting that to build a brand, a force to be reckoned with, required an army of loyal, talented and engaged people. Jamie made that a priority, they hadn’t. He won.
They were both prepared, in business at least, for what was to come.
A date that would forever be etched in the minds of the British people was approaching. To sit alongside Churchill’s war announcement and the incoming of a young queen by the name of Elizabeth. This was the stuff future generations would read about.
The lockdown announcement came from the Prime Minister on March 23rd in the early evening. Jamie grabbed Dean’s hand, bracing as if the news was going to jump out of the screen and wreak havoc in the living room like an unruly child. Early conversations with his parents had been forgotten. This announcement made everything terrifyingly real.
“From this evening, I must give the British people a very simple message. You must stay at home.” The command was so simple yet so profound. Marlow was quiet at the best of times but Jamie felt the entire nation get a little more quiet in that moment. A collective gasp of seventy million people. An acknowledgement that it had finally had to happen.
Dean felt him shake. “Babe? Talk to me?”
“I need to speak to them. I have to know what is happening with them. Just leave me alone for a minute, will you? I can’t give you anything right now. Not everyone can jet off and miraculously serve out a lockdown on an exotic island like the Archers. This fucking real life. For us little people. I’m sorry you have to witness what we have to deal with.” Jamie was hostile. Nasty. Snarling. Sarcastic. He got up and slammed the door into the office on him.
Dean became granite. Letting Jamie’s words smash against him. He didn’t believe the sentiment behind even a syllable of what he was hurling at him. He swallowed and clasped his hand to his forehead and bided his time for Jamie to come out the other end of the tunnel he was burrowing for himself. “Fuck.” He whispered.
“Momma?” Jamie spoke softly. Attempting to minimise the worry in his voice. Dean got up and traced his finger along the door knob. He wanted to hold him. He adored the way Jamie called his mother, Momma. Like a bewildered little Southern boy. He was charismatic, magnetic, sexy, and confident to everyone but her. In front of Martha, he was little Jamie Arden. All blonde hair and nervous energy.
After his parents talked him off his ledge, assuring him they would be as safe as they could be and their work was life-changing so could not be cancelled or postponed, he felt a glimmer of optimism. He knew he’d snapped disproportionately, a little comedy would help. He waved a white tea towel through the living room door. Dean clocked it and laughed. Jamie’s giggle made everything ok in an instant.
COVID-19, as coined by the WHO did not discriminate and it took the world over within weeks. A global sense of battening down the hatches and pushing through was adopted. A war footing of sorts. Trying to keep the mounting death toll in the rearview mirror at every opportunity.
Dean was in the home office, finishing up for the day and he saw a notification on his phone.
Hi Dean,
I hope the new home is coming along nicely for you both, it sounds perfect. I hope you, Jamie and your family and friends are staying as safe as you can.
There is no easy way to come out and say this so I’ll get straight to it.
Better over email so you can break the news to Jamie more gently when you’re ready and able.
Earl contracted the virus early in the lockdown here in New York, as you’re very aware through your support, Earl was increasingly frail and was ultimately no match for it.
We locked ourselves away. Did everything we were told but this horrible thing got in somehow. We contacted doctors but they advised us to stay home and ride it out.
His breathing became so laboured during the night, that I contacted doctors again but by the time ambulances were arranged it was too late. He was suffocating in my arms.
I’ll never forget the look of terror and then nothing in his eyes.
I’m heartbroken but I’ll be through this pain when my mind is ready. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you have done for Earl and myself.
I’ll get in touch with funeral arrangements and how you can both be a part of it.
Please give Jamie a hug from me. I know he won’t take this well.
Take care,
Paul
Dean held his head in his hands. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Work. Pandemic. Missing family. Missing friends. Missing rugby. Further pleas from his mother to make amends with Lee. Jamie’s increasingly precarious mental state. Caging him in, as now required by law in Britain, was like watching an exotic animal slowly shrink from its former vibrant self in a zoo.
Dean got up and went to the French doors of the kitchen. Jamie had found some peace in another novel. There was a slight smile at the corners of his lips. Dean bit his own. “Shit.”
“Babe, can you come inside just for a moment please, no actually I’ll come to you.” Dean decided fresh air would be needed to take some sting out of what he had to deliver.
“Ok, good lookin’!” Fuck, he’s even in a rare good mood. So rare, Dean could count them on one hand in recent weeks. He didn’t hate this part of him, it was just another complexity to Jamie. He’d been consistently hot and cold for weeks. Dean rolled with the punches. Jamie didn’t mean anything personal by it and profusely apologised when he knew he’d become too much. Figuring out how this: the lockdowns, the terrifying daily death tolls, the masks, police patrols, social distancing, the constant creeping unknown, was going to influence people’s behaviour was new to everyone. Dean had to keep reminding himself: that they hadn’t navigated a pandemic before.
Dean slowly walked to him and kneeled in front of him.
“Well, you already asked me that in New York six years ago remember?” Jamie flashed his ring finger. The sun caught the diamonds. He giggled.
Dean grabbed his hand and kissed it. “Dean? What’s wrong?” Jamie sat up from the lounger. Something was off.
“Baby, I need to tell you something.”
“Dean?”
“God this is hard.”
“Dean, what the fuck is it? You’re scaring me.”
“Ok.” He looked away, then back into Jamie’s eyes. Glistening, tears loaded and ready to fall. He was trembling. “I got an email from Paul. Jamie, I’m so sorry…” He couldn’t finish. Jamie jumped to his feet and ran.
When he needed to be alone and run from fear, and sadness, that’s what he did. He ran. He ran from everything. The anger, the unfairness, the perfectly cruel timing, all of it. Like an oppressive palm against his nose, he had to push past. He stopped only when he reached the fence at the perimeter of the garden. The emotion came rumbling up and he threw up. He hung over the fence for a moment then he gasped and fell backward. He lay. Inanimate. Just staring at the sky.
“Jamie!” Dean’s footsteps were just behind. “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me!”
Jamie continued to stare. Death was inevitable for all but this one felt so unfair and unjust to him. Yes, Earl was older and more frail in the last couple of years but still. He felt that the impossibly helpless situation they were currently in was being mocked somehow. Earl’s death, a putrid carrot being dangled just out of reach to do anything about.
It was a fairy tale friendship. It couldn’t have happened in any other way other than the way it did. They’d met a handful of times, they’d video-called as much as possible over the years. Earl was part of them. He was them. Woven into their history. The definition of friendship. It didn’t need to be attended to every day to still feel powerful and relevant.
He finally spoke a few minutes later, more a whispering screech, after a dry, painful swallow. “Lie on top of me. I think I might disappear if you don’t.”
Dean knew better than to question the logic in any of the illogical thoughts that made their way out of that beautiful head. He slowly moved over him and linked palms. Breathing into his cheek.
“When you’re ready we can talk. If you want to just be still for a moment, we can. Take all the time you need.”
Five minutes passed and Jamie began to squirm. Dean slipped off and rested on his elbows.
Jamie had a haunting smile on his face as he rose to sit. Dean was a little uncomfortable, he didn’t know what it meant. Trouble kept everyone on their toes. It must have been exhausting in his head. It was exhausting but so pure to watch someone live every emotion right out front, all over their body. “I’m sorry for running. I do that don’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say you run off. You go get some space when you need it. There’s a difference.” Dean offered, finding a blade of grass far too interesting for a moment, hoping this calm would stay.
“You’re biased and that’s just semantics but I love you for your endless attempts to make me sound less of a coward.”
Dean leapt to him grabbing his face. “Shut up. I meant what I said. I know you better than anyone. I absolutely understand that’s what you do. Don’t question an expert.”
“I won’t.” Jamie slumped back on his behind. He swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “You know, it’s odd, Fiona felt like we’d been robbed. Like there was more left in her life. With Earl, it feels almost complete. Awful, but right. I was meant to meet him when I did. I was meant to hold Danny’s poem in my hands. I was meant to read it on our wedding morning. Meeting him was confirmation of why I chose you all those years ago. You’re funding his care, I almost expected it to be the case. Not that you needed to, just that I know you would have done what you could, and you did. The universe was telling me I’d made a good decision. Finally. I’ll miss him so fucking much. It’s the sheer audacity of the timing I can’t handle. He’s part of the fairy tale of you and me. We’re part of his and Danny’s I’d like to think. Too good to be true. He deserves to live in those Disney streets of Paris with all those wonderful and pure characters. That’s where he is now. I do hope.” Jamie looked away, a fist to his forehead and he let the tears fall.
“Maybe, just maybe, in some other perfectly fair universe. He is.” Dean placed a hand on the back of his neck. I’m here for you, Trouble.
“You think?” Jamie wiped his face and a blue eye peered through his fingers at Dean.
“I know it. I just know it.” Dean took his chin in his hand and shook it gently.
“I believe it too. Because I believe in you.” They didn’t get up from the lawn for an hour. Almost sleeping in the lockdown sun. Letting the news of Earl stay in the breeze for as long as it needed to.
The funeral followed a week later, Paul had kindly offered the link to the ceremony via Zoom. Jamie dressed in a black sweater, Dean the same. “I think it’s right we do.” Dean nodded and went along with what Jamie needed of him.
As the ceremony link dropped out when the service finished, Jamie crumbled. The calm that had wrapped itself around him when Dean had told him of his death completely evaporated. Violently. He doubled down on himself and sobbed. Dean reached a hand to his back and rubbed him softly.
“That was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Just a fucking video link in an email.” He continued his sobs. His back rose and fell, gulping in breath.
“Try not to think of it that way babe. That part was a necessity. Everyone who cared for and loved him was there in what way they could.” Dean reached for optimism but he knew he sounded desperate.
“What? All fucking three of us? Jesus, it’s so tragic how discarded people are. So he didn’t run some massive company, he wasn’t an inventor, he wasn’t an actor, a writer, whatever. Do you have to make some huge dent in this planet to be remembered? Sometimes the tenderness of just being kind should be enough. Why can’t people remember that?”
Dean didn’t have any further words he could give him. Jamie didn’t need them, he just needed his presence. He leaned over and held him, silently until the sobbing gradually slowed.
August 2020
Lee and Maria’s relationship continued in an almost plutonic way. They rarely slept together. If they did it was missionary and awkward. They laughed like virgin teenagers fooling around. They seemed to mutually refuse to address the issue. The truth of the matter was that Lee was now incredibly lonely. Dean and Jamie’s marriage gave him at least a taste of what a life could be outside of his work. He was closer to his family because of them, and more emotional because of them, they were a warm fire that melted him for a few years. They had technically given him Drew, too.
His hang-ups about who should be with who, taking on his parents' roles of managing his brothers, before he even needed to, had left him with nothing apart from his mother and father’s love. It didn’t make him feel better. They were a default. That love would always be there. He knew he’d done wrong. He just could not for the life of him conclude as to how to make it right. He respected the damage he caused by not rushing to make up with Dean and Jamie. The repairs needed to take as long if not longer than the damage itself took to inflict. He hoped they knew it was never calculated or deliberate. But misguided.
On that evening in April of the previous year, when Lee had unwittingly unleashed Rupert back into Dean’s life, he received the text to signal this was now a war.
DEAN: We’re done.
He never heard from Dean or Jamie again. Deep down inside he was devastated, though he would never show it.
In the intervening months, pleas for reconciliation came from the family. Dean rebuffed them. He was sick of Lee’s behaviour and the superiority he held over his brothers. Henry just accepted him as he was. Dean refused to play any longer. The only person persisting this late in this, their Cold War, was his mother.
“You cannot go through the rest of your life without speaking to your brother, Dean. I understand your reasons but he is family and I won’t watch my children fall out like this.” Audrey had pleaded with Dean. He was angered by her blind loyalty to him but understood her position as his mother as well as his own.
“I can’t be railroaded into this mum. He caused a lot of damage over the years. He needs to work on himself. I won’t have my marriage mocked. I won’t have my husband mocked. That’s the end of it. Please change the subject.” It was the first time Dean had felt the need to stand up to his mother. She was taken aback but again, understood. He was her son, hurting, as much as Lee was her son, too. Lonely.
Lockdown had lifted and the government began to experiment with distancing guidelines again and a convoluted track and trace system to allow hospitality to open back up. To most it was seen as a shallow attempt at reelection, the economy was in free fall and the government needed to do something. To Lee, it was a welcome distraction and got him and Maria out of a cold bed and back around tables. He at the very least enjoyed the conversation.
Lee was later than the rest of the party. He’d agreed to meet Maria and her friends at a restaurant near her apartment in Knightsbridge for dinner. A first for almost five months for many.
He rushed through the doors of San Carlo and clocked Maria first. Then the red-headed, porcelain-skinned woman to her left and an elegant man beyond her again. He was dark-haired, tanned, blue eyes, handsome, slim. From what he could see, tall, too. His thumb rubbed the redhead’s décolletage. Something seemed very familiar between Maria and the other woman at the table. Lee slowed to make a little more sense of what he thought he was seeing before he announced his arrival.
“Good evening, so sorry I’m later than expected. Brief took longer than I anticipated…”
“Lee! Don’t worry, come sit with us. Lee Archer, this is Imogen and her husband Brian. Meet the Hamblins.”
The Hamblins were another couple, offspring of landed families. Those who just fell into country estates of the southeast and just fell into apartments or townhouses in the royal boroughs. Lee was morbidly curious how these people managed to look so busy by doing very little. He humoured Maria’s photography career. He knew it wasn’t earned. Her name just looked good in a fashion magazine bylines.
“Oh Lee, you’re just as handsome in person. So lovely to meet you. Maria has told me so much about you.” Imogen reached up to kiss both his cheeks before returning to her book next to Maria. Both were dressed in satin cocktail dresses. What made Lee’s eyes linger as she sat was her hand creeping up Maria’s thigh. He was curious and aroused instantly.
“Lee, fantastic.” Brian reached a long elegant hand out in a light shake. The reaction was as if Brian had a realisation, a confirmation of something discussed at the table before Lee arrived.
“Great to meet you both.” Lee swept the thoughts away and sat next to Maria. He kept his hands to himself as everyone else’s seemed to crawl without any inhibition across each other.
They finished dinner an hour later and Lee decided on one rare occasion to fully lean into alcohol. The table had changed up seats. Maria and Lee found themselves in the middle. Brian to his left and Imogen to Maria’s right.
“Tell me, Lee. You seem in incredible shape. Not like that brother of yours though, what an ox, more a racehorse I think. What’s your workout regimen?”
Lee felt the faintest hand on his left thigh. He didn’t flinch so as not to cause any awkwardness but swallowed and answered. “Uh, I rock climb at the gym. Great all-over workout. Not a huge fan of weights. Cardio and body weight are just what you need.”
“Is that so?” Brian’s palm opened over his thigh. In a split second, it was gone and Brian chased Imogen to the bathrooms in a clatter of drunken laughs.
“What’s the deal with those two? You know he was practically grabbing my cock? What’s going on here.” The idea of open flirtation or was it that it was another man’s hand on his thigh after so long, he wasn’t completely sure but he asked with a grin that said to Maria that he was game, for now, for whatever transpired.
Maria swept a hand over his cheek. “I’ve given I this long for you to come clean. Lee, I’m not stupid.” It wasn’t anger, it was almost pity, only vaguely masked by her soft smile that said ‘I know.’
“What could you possibly mean?” He was genuinely perplexed.
“New Year’s Eve last year. A beautiful man walked into that restaurant with an older, smug-looking bastard. Lee, your eyes never left him. He followed you to the men’s room. You had a literal fire in your eyes. Your pupils were flames. We’re not fire. Whatever I saw that night. What the hell are you doing ignoring it? Don’t get anxious or nervous. You’re in an exclusive club now. Do you think those two are married for any other reason than to keep parents quiet? Wake up, Lee. This is the twenty-firstcentury. Do what you want. We’ve had fun, mainly outside the bedroom but this isn’t going to work. You don’t do it for me. I don’t do it for you. It was heartbreaking seeing you devour him with your eyes. He’s clearly in something you can't bear to think of him in. I’m talking as a friend now.”
Lee paused and thought quickly. What could he say now? He let it out. Finally. “I love him. We’re completely different but that’s the point. There’s this magnetic sureness about him. He’s not afraid of me. Ultimately I was too afraid to tell him what he needed to hear, what he deserved of me.”
“I’m proud of you for telling me. But you’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that he’s gone or work out how you’re going to at least tell him what you should have and even see if there is something worth revisiting with him somehow. But that’s for later. As a little antidote to your quandary, we’re taking this party back to mine. Don’t judge. Don’t roll your eyes. Just enjoy the ride.” She kissed his lips for the last time.
“It’s a date.” All his hang-ups fell away. He’d been exposed. He’d confessed. He felt free. Quietly devastated at coming to terms, out loud, with the prospect or possibly lack thereof for Drew and him. A sense of peace came over him, being able to be honest for the first time in years.
The four of them returned to Mara’s apartment. High ceilings, Georgian windows with the evening light of Knightsbridge flickering like lasers beyond. Maria flopped to the sofa.
“Fix me a drink Immy and come here.” Lee looked on with bewilderment. She’d all but confessed her secret in the restaurant. Brian and Imogen’s marriage was one based on an archaic need to keep land and money in the right hands and little more. He pitied them. All the connection and money anyone could ever need but they seemed trapped. Living their real lives and passions behind closed doors of inherited multimillion-pound cages.
Imogen returned with a glass of wine and proceeded to lie down slowly on top of Maria. The kissing and wondering hands began. Lee downed his whiskey and went to use the bathroom.
He washed his face to sober slightly, he hadn’t drunk in months but he felt he needed to take the edge of the rapidly odd evening he was witnessing, and then there was a knock on the door.
“Lee?” Brian came in and locked the door.
“I won’t be a minute then all yours.”
“You mean the bathroom or this?” Brian lunged forward and smacked a palm to his crotch. “Where do they grow you Archer brothers? You’re all so fucking perfect. That Dean. Jesus, many a night I’ve fantasised about choking down on his cock. People talk in this town, you know? He was a bit of a boy about town, sorry, the world from what I have heard. Jamie must be fucking insane in bed to keep him fed.”
Lee shuffled slightly and remembered the whole sorry episode with Rupert for a moment and felt a pang of guilt again. He even didn’t register Brian almost comparing this interaction to a fantasy he had already played in his head over his younger brother.
He had nothing left to lose and the attention, albeit taboo in any other circumstance, was welcome. “Why don’t you stop talking.” He whispered.
Brian slumped to his knees. “You’re not so straight and narrow. A mouth’s a mouth right?” He pulled Lee free of his briefs, running his already slick head along his top lip. “Oh, Lee. I’m one lucky boy. You’re in experienced hands and experienced lips. Imogen and I get up to all sorts as you…” He couldn’t finish, and Lee pulled him rough and hard onto him. Lee didn’t relent. Brian’s hands grasped at his stomach as he gulped and yelped.
“Fuck.” Lee whispered.
“Uh-hmm.” Brian willed him to carry on.
No warning. No hint. He released deep into Brian’s mouth pushing him away and pushing himself back into his trousers and hastily tucking his shirt back in. “Sorry, I was a little rough. It’s been a little while.” He went to leave but turned. “Tell Maria I’ll talk to her soon. It was good to meet you and your wife, Brian. I think.” He chuckled slightly and slipped out into the night. He knew he’d never make that call back to Maria. He wasn’t from their odd, closed little world. He was from a successful family who knew and relished hard work. He wasn’t about shared partners or limitless hedonism. It wasn’t him. His mind went to the simple nights in his apartment with Drew. He felt like he was falling all of a sudden and grasping for Drew who just stood and stared.
He needed a drink to round off the bizarre night. A neon sign simply claiming a bar was off to his right, just ahead of him. He ducked into the door and the noise. A small heady place. The humidity hit him like a thick plastic sheet across his face. He barged through to the bar to order a whisky. The place was small with a dance door in the middle with booths circling its edge. He turned, holding an ice cube in his teeth to savour something cold.
Then he saw him. The beat of some dance track making the room feel smaller, making it throb. Lee could feel it in his bones. He knew though, that the thud in the pit of his chest, the one that felt hot and almost liquid, threatening to seep out, was his heart.
Drew danced as he painted. Long strokes, without his brushes his hands extended into blades slicing the air. His face was stern. His pout burned with something. Those on the dance floor looked on, reducing their frenzied moves to shuffles. Something about Drew’s energy told everyone to look but not touch. Not engage. For eyes only. He moved like he was suspended underwater. Limbs quick, with a majestic delay, all at once. He mesmerised.
Lee knew he wasn’t doing this by choice. He could tell. But his movement; his hips, the rolling. Lee would give anything to have those hips pressed against his thighs and that tortured intense face glare down at him for more. In a moment of absolute insanity,Lee hoped Drew was thinking of him as he moved. The furrow of his brow, Lee observed, was the same as when they had been intimate together. Just before he climaxed. Lee would get him there. Every time. Lee would be proud he could do that to his body. Drew would be desperate and appreciative. The bee-stung lips, stretched into a smug smile when they were done. That was then.
It was a sad, pointless encounter. Completely one-sided and mute. Lee had nothing to lose in anything anymore. He was reduced to simply his work and the love of his mother. He was so completely and utterly embarrassed with his behaviour over the past year or so, this would be self-inflicted punishment as much as it was what Drew needed from him, if too late.
He marched through the dance floor. Floor dwellers’ shoulders smacking his. Hands of strangers pulling at his face and hair. The soapy fresh hit him. He grabbed at the waist. Hands subtle. Hopeful to avoid eyes that would bring harm to Drew if anything was seen. He leant into an ear. One of which he’d whispered endlessly into in years gone by. The only time his guard was ever down, was in those ears. The lobe he’d suspended in his teeth just firm enough to hear a whimper. He whispered. He had to tell him. These were the only words left. “I love you.” As soon as they left his mouth he turned and walked out of the club and out into the night. The misery and desperation of the interaction roared up from his gut and punched out through his eyes. In known memory of his forty-seven years, he never shed a tear until then.
Drew gasped, the words strangled him and broke his daze. He swallowed tears of longing for the man who was too stubborn to tell him what he needed until it was too late. He resided himself to the hell he was living. He knew Lee wasn’t a bad man. He was stuck. Drew would have given anything to become the one he would come unstuck with. He looked back across the club at his captor.
Christian signalled for him to return. Drew froze and wouldn’t look for Lee. He couldn’t. He had the creeping sense his life could depend on conforming to Christian’s orders.
As he approached, Christian grabbed at his throat. “You’re a beautiful animal. My beautiful animal. No one else’s. It’s time to put you back in your cage. Sit down.” The palm raised to his cheek. The slap was firm and condescending.
Drew whispered as he sat. “Hell.”
December 2020
Early in December, on a Saturday morning, Dean was in the kitchen making coffee for them both. Jamie was still sleeping. He stared out the window of the kitchen out into the garden. White with frost. He felt disgusted. The night before he’d proposed to Jamie they introduce other men into a one-night fuck fest for his 40th. A crazy proposition he’d conjured during the commute home in the car from the station a few days before.
He was disappointed at Jamie’s response. Happy to give Dean what he wanted but he wanted a night for him, with his suited friends. Dean couldn’t shift his head away from the nagging feeling this was just an excuse to get closer to Hugo.
He hated himself for thinking it. Almost reasoning that Jamie’s response was worse than his question. If time had told him anything, he could and would tackle the issue as soon as Jamie opened his eyes. He didn’t want that. He never did. It was just easy to say it because they were so perfectly comfortable with each other and still, over ten years later, couldn’t keep their hands, mouths and eyes off of each other.
He sat on the sofa opposite the bed and waited. Jamie stirred ten minutes later. He didn’t jump as he usually did and grab Dean into a hug, he stretched and his eyes landed on Dean. He sighed and stared just beyond him. Not fully meeting his eyes.
“Morning,” Dean said flatly. “Coffee there for you.”
“Thanks.” Jamie couldn’t look at him. The embarrassment smeared all over his face. Dean was relieved.
“I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“What I asked of you last night when I got home.”
Jamie leapt up and ran to him and jumped onto his lap, straddling him.
“Oh thank fucking god. I’m sorry too. Jesus, I don’t know why I said it. Honestly. I’m so fucking embarrassed for us. I’ve never been embarrassed in front of you.” Jamie grabbed his neck and hugged him. Dean limply tapped his behind. “What’s wrong?”
“What I said was disgusting. You don’t say that to your husband for fuck sake. But, your response? About a night with people I know. The suit thing? Jamie, do you like Hugo? Was that what you were really asking me? I’m not him. Like I said. I’m not exciting. I’m not wicked. Im just me. Old gym shorts and the sports pages. I’m sorry. I always feel like I’m keeping you back from fun.”
Jamie leaned back and crossed his arms then out of nowhere punched Dean’s chest.
“Uh, ow!”
“That is for insinuating I like him like that. For the millionth time, I don’t. Dean, the man is a shallow nightmare. He’s got a screw loose. More than me. He’s an entire tool shop of loose screws. He makes me look fucking normal. You panic, you never feel enough for me, so I just need to keep reminding you. You’re everything to me. So stop overthinking things that don’t exist. I enjoy his company, that’s all. And in all honesty? I wasn’t even picturing who I was talking about last night. I was just shouting into a well I suppose. I feel totally silly for even suggesting such a thing. The thought of anyone else near you or me makes me feel quite nauseous.” He kissed his cheek. “You’re more than enough for me. My Big Boy. My Castle. Always.”
“Please just accept my apology again?”
“Show me.”
“Huh?”
Jamie seized the opportunity. Dean's pleading for forgiveness was an offer not to be refused. He ripped his shorts off and flung himself on the bed. “Get the fuck over here and show me you’re sorry.”
Dean jumped on top of him, giving him the weight of his apology. Jamie squealed. Dean became hard and firm in these moods. As if proving something to himself and Jamie. Jamie went along for the ride, willingly.
Dean’s actual fortieth passed by quietly. A Zoom call was organised by Jamie with Harry, Lars, Trix, Richard and Gabby, Henry and Emily and a few rugby guys. After a few hours of drinking and giggling along to how bizarre the year had been. Looking out into the screen Jamie missed their old life. Marlow was fast becoming a dream to him that he hadn’t quite finished dreaming. He wasn’t completely sure the reality was actually what he expected or wanted. Perfect was starting to look fucking boring anyway.
May 2021
Dean and Jamie returned to the apartment the following May. Jamie couldn’t help himself. He gave out a huge sigh and dropped his bags on the floor of the living room. He wrapped his arms around himself and grinned.
“My god, don’t miss our new home that much. I can’t handle it.” Dean came up behind him. He couldn’t be mad, he was happy if Jamie was.
Jamie turned. “I’m sorry babe. I just missed this place so much.” His hand fell to Dean’s crotch. “Want a proper welcome back to the city?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“I won’t say no.” Before Dean could finish, Jamie was in front of him. Rubbing his face over the mound in his jeans. Finally, he pulled him free and devoured him.
“Mmm.” Jamie groaned as Dean filled his mouth. “You taste even better back in the city.” It was a deliberate attempt to spar with him. He knew this move was against Dean’s will and in that moment, with his cock in his mouth, Jamie was in complete control. Still. He revelled in making Dean squirm from time to time.
“Shut the fuck up.” Dean took the bait and frowned, grabbing a handful of his hair. Pulling him back and forth. Jamie clawed at his behind as he came. “Thirsty were we?”
Jamie wiped his mouth and came up to kiss him. “Always.”
May continued to be odd for Dean. He was absolutely happy wherever Jamie was but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that they were done with Marlow. The renovations would keep them away for a few months. Jamie couldn’t handle the noise and upheaval and demanded they fully move back to Notting Hill. Everything they owned, that was once in the apartment, was put back in the apartment. Paris painting, Eiffel Tower ashtray. Danny’s poem. Every book. Everything. To anyone else, it would have seemed unreasonable, but Dean understood him. It was just the way he was wired. Jamie needed the calm place to come home too. Full of the things he cherished. Everything was back in place. He just couldn’t quite settle on; for how long.
His unease continued, out of the blue, without explanation, Hugo installed a new site manager for the Canada Square office of Plutus.
Richie Gould. Dean was summoned to the boardroom to meet him. Hugo, Gordon and Richie were sat in a row. Hugo, flanked by them both.
“Dean, come in. Sit down.” Hugo was all teeth and smile, Dean knew it was fake as if he knew Dean wouldn’t see the need to stretch the payroll further when his IT budgets were being scrutinised. He knew this was a power move by Hugo. To tell him he was still the boss. He knew he’d sanctioned a review of the IT division’s overheads. He knew Hugo was turning the screws on streamlining what was needed of his teams. Hugo, once a friend, absolutely couldn’t handle the possibility of Dean having as much influence within the business as him. He was a friend until he had power. Dean wasn’t phased by it. He let Hugo just make a fool of himself. He looked increasingly desperate these days. He almost felt sorry for him. He didn’t have anything else.
“Morning all.” Dean sat and glanced at Richie.
“Morning. We’re inviting all the directors in to meet R…” Gordon couldn’t finish. He never could. He looked after the numbers, hugely important numbers, but never got a chance to hold centre stage. He was now fifty, and Dean didn’t think he’d ever not seen him look defeated.
Richie jumped in and bolted to his feet, leaning over with his hand. “Richie Gould. Cyber Security graduate from Imperial, great to meet you. Your reputation proceeds you and for what it’s worth, I follow your husband on Instagram. What a guy!”
Dean ignored everything he said. He had an irritating energy about him, like a gnat in the summer you want to smack away in the hopes it got the message and just fucked off. But he remained as polite as possible. “Great to have you on board.” Dean flexed his arm muscles and tugged his arm, causing a sharp shake that nearly pulled Richie off both feet: You’re a fucking small fish in my big pond. Fuck you.
“Richie is coming in to help oversee everything here at HQ while we’re out in the field looking after everything globally.” Hugo reasoned.
“Sounds good. Look I have a few things on this morning, I need to jump. Great to have someone keeping an eye on the cruise control while we’re out, Richard. Hugo, catch you later. Gordon, smile.”
Hugo and Gordon glanced at each other. The sarcasm from Dean was out of character which made it all the more entertaining. Despite the grumble of their working relationships changing.
“It’s uh, Richie. Yeah. It’s Richie…” He shouted to Dean as he made his way down the hallway, Dean was deliberately not listening.
Dean huffed as he sat back down at his desk. Why was this little shit being installed in the business? There was no need. Especially as his IT budgets had been scrutinised so heavily in recent months. Protecting a business was up for debate but spending on glorified secretaries was acceptable. He thought about the pity he felt for Hugo and smiled. How his life was so rich with love that he didn’t need to busy himself with pointless acts of maliciousness to make himself feel alive.
He settled back into his chair a little more at the comforting thought and sent Jamie a text.
DEAN: Trouble, I miss you today. I love you.
Jamie’s reply came instantly.
JAMIE: What do you want Big Boy?
He laughed aloud in his office and replied.
DEAN: Fuck you.
Jamie replied with his favourite ghost emoji.
Late in May, Christian unceremoniously closed Khonsu for refurbishment. Behind that door, off limits to all, a meeting took place between him, The Mayor of London, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner and the Home Secretary. Jamie’s fate was being sealed.
That same evening, Jamie and Dean sat on the balcony in Notting Hill in silence. Jamie’s smile had spread further since returning. Dean had to accept defeat for a little while.
Author’s Note: I’m sorry for the delay with my latest chapter everyone. Wanted to take time to get this one the way I wanted it. Thank you for your continued support. Buckle up, all will be revealed in the next couple of chapters! Will be publishing much more quickly with what’s coming next. I’m excited to hear everyone’s thoughts. Speak soon!
