Page 22 of Gideon (Finding Home #3)

Chapter

Eight

My life ran a lot easier when the only person who mattered in the world was me

Gideon

Eli springs away from me like I’ve confessed that I’ve got Ebola.

Actually, he’d have probably stuck around a bit longer if I did have that and would most definitely have got his nurse bag out.

My hands flail in midair, as if grasping for what I’d been holding only moments before, and I shift awkwardly.

“Gideon,” comes the shout again, and Eli looks at me imploringly. For a second I consider doing what I’d have done a few weeks ago which is leave him to it, but this time I hesitate.

“ Fuck !” I mutter as I grab my towel and wind it round my waist. “Go in the bathroom and come out in five minutes.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to sneak out of the balcony doors like this is some sort of farce and be on the deck when he looks out.” He hesitates. “ What? ” I ask impatiently and he shakes his head.

“Nothing.”

Then he’s gone and I sidle out onto the deck where the wind catches my towel and flaps it threateningly about.

I roll my eyes. Could I be any more ridiculous?

At this point I’ve got to doubt it. And it’s all for him.

What the fuck is happening to me? My life ran a lot easier when the only person who mattered in the world was me.

I hear footsteps and fling myself quickly into the chair, tucking the towel around my cock and balls so I don’t expose myself to Frankie. The thought makes me shudder and doesn’t leave me much to expose as they’re currently trying to tuck themselves back into my body at the thought.

A second later he appears in the doorway. “Gideon,” he says heartily. “Didn’t you hear me shout?”

“No,” I say calmly, reclining in my seat as if I’m on the throne of England.

He looks at me and hesitates. “What are you doing out here?”

“Sitting down,” I say serenely. “What does it look like?”

“In a towel?”

“Is there a dress etiquette I wasn’t aware of for sitting on my private deck?” I ask in an astonished voice. “How I wish someone would give me this rule book that seems to follow me around in life, spoiling my fun.”

He looks dubiously at me. “You’re covered in soap suds, Gideon.”

“I’m conditioning my skin.” It’s only years of training that makes that statement a fact rather than floundering. It’s only years of him being in Hollywood that makes him accept it.

“Oh, okay,” he finally says. He looks around and sidles closer. “Maybe don’t sit around like that in front of your nurse, though.”

“Why?” I ask coldly, and he falters slightly before he unfortunately recovers.

“Well, he’ll get ideas.”

“Because he’s gay? Goodness me, I think you’ve put your finger on the problem because all gay men are obviously just waiting to pounce on the nearest display of flesh. It’s not as if they have jobs and mortgages and relationships to bother about.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “That’s been my experience.”

“Really?”

“No need to sound so disbelieving, Gideon,” he says, sounding faintly stung that I don’t believe him. “I have got a mirror, you know.”

“Then you should learn to use it,” I say smoothly. “Because it would have to be a very masochistic gay man that made a pass at a terrible homophobe like you.”

“ Gideon .” He sounds incredibly affronted. “I do a lot of work for the LGBT community.”

“Only if you class that as helping them back into the closet and locking the door.”

“Is this about Christian?”

I sigh and rub my eyes, suddenly sick of this conversation.

I hate that he treats me like a stupid five-year-old and dismisses everything I say.

And I detest the bitchy sniping I sink into because of the dislike that has slowly been simmering inside me for someone who could have been everything to me, but who instead hates what I am.

“No, it’s not about Christian,” I say tiredly, looking out to sea.

“I’m just sick of this subterfuge, Frankie.

Of never being honest. I’m gay, not Jack the Ripper. ”

He snorts. “Might have been easier to spin that.”

I swing my gaze back to him. “No, it wouldn’t. Have you actually heard yourself lately?”

“I’ve heard myself telling you time and time again that you’ll fuck your career up. Do you know what I’ve got in my hands?” I shake my head. “It’s an offer to star in Hal Finchley’s next film.”

“Really?” I try for an appreciative voice but I know I’m wide of the mark. Hal is famous for high-grossing superhero movies, but the thought of appearing as yet another boring, clichéd lead makes me feel like Frankie’s covering me in a straitjacket.

He nods. “No auditioning. A straight offer.” He glares at me. “And that’s what it is, Gideon. It’s a straight offer. One whiff of where your interests really lie and they’ll snatch this away quicker than the baton in a relay race.”

“They’re not allowed to do that.”

He scoffs. “Don’t be na?ve. Of course they can.

They’ll just do it another way without mentioning your sexuality.

They’ll make some excuse about artistic differences.

But the end result is the same. You’ll be off the film and your career will be done.

You’ll be lucky to get a part in Midsomer Murders . ”

I sigh, feeling suddenly unutterably weary. “Then maybe I don’t want this career anymore that depends on me lying every day. Maybe I want my family and friends to really know me.”

He throws himself into the chair next to me.

“You don’t mean that,” he says urgently.

“You’re just feeling the after effects of the illness, Gid.

You’re an amazing actor, and I know all you want to do is act.

Why don’t you let me deal with all this and you just do what you love best, and keep your head down at the same time.

Maybe next year the climate will be better. ”

I shake my head. “Is your middle name Mephistopheles?”

He looks at me, puzzled. “No, it’s Simon. You know that.”

I sigh. “I’m just saying that it’s the same deal you offered me when I was seventeen and the same spiel you’ve given me every year since.

It will never be time to be myself. That’s got to be put off like a root canal appointment while I smile and take the money.

” I eye him. “Or rather you take the money.”

He flinches. It’s a very slight movement but I catch it and something roils in my stomach.

A dim suspicion that’s been at the back of my mind for a year now.

It’s only vanished from my head when I’ve pushed it out with drink and drugs.

“I hope you’re not taking money for putting things in front of me,” I say quietly.

“I always told you, Frankie, that it would be the end if you did that. I can’t trust you when you’re acting like you’ve got a horse in the game instead of looking after my interests. I can’t abide dishonesty.”

“Then maybe you should take a look in the mirror yourself,” he says sharply, losing his hold on his temper slightly.

“Because you’ve practised it every day since you were seventeen, and I may have made you a good offer, but I didn’t force you into that closet, Gideon.

You walked in, mate, and locked the door after you.

So don’t you fucking lay everything at my doorstep. ”

I stare at him, making a faint smile appear on my face to wind him up.

Frankie has always had a temper. In my young days he’d cow me by screaming in my face and manhandling me.

He stopped that when I got older, but for some reason I still stuck with him.

Maybe it’s because he knows me and if he wanted to, he could make my life very difficult with well-placed leaks to the press.

Maybe it’s because he’s the only authority figure I’ve ever allowed in my life and I hate to admit that I’m wrong.

Whatever it is, I can sense that it’s finally coming to an end, though.

He grips the arms of his chair. “Don’t smirk at me,” he says hotly.

“I’m all you’ve got, Gideon fucking Ramsay.

” He laughs. It’s cold, with no humour. “The great Gideon Ramsay. If your family and friends even knew you, who can say if they’d like you, anyway?

Let’s face it, mate, you’ve got no relationship with your fucking brother.

I’ve got a closer one with my tailor.” He shakes his head.

“None of those men you try to hang around with care about you. They’ve got their own lives, and you don’t figure in them.

For once listen to me and face the truth.

You knew it when you went down there and tried to be part of their little group.

They shoved you out quicker than if you’d been a magpie in someone else’s nest.”

I can’t help the flinch, and he puffs up even further, opening his mouth, but we’re interrupted by a footfall at the door and Eli appears. He’s quite pale, the freckles standing out on his face, but he has a very resolute look.

“Eli?” I say questioningly.

“I’d like you to leave, Mr Grantham,” Eli says steadily.

“What the fuck?”

“You heard.” Eli’s politeness is frigid.

“You’re upsetting my patient, and I can’t allow that.

The consultant warned you.” He holds out his hands for the papers that Frankie is holding.

“You can leave them with me or take them away with you, but the one thing that is absolutely certain is that I’m not going to allow you to give them to Gideon.

” He throws his hands out towards the door like a tall, blond butler.

“After you,” he says coldly. “You can make an appointment to see Gideon when he’s feeling better. ”

Frankie stands up slowly. “Gideon, is it?” he says, moving towards Eli like a fat, suited shark.

“Well, enjoy him while you can, because he’ll toss you to one side just like all the others.

There are no exceptions to that because his career is his one great love.

And when he does throw you out, I’ll have the nondisclosure and kiss-off cash sum ready.

” He looks him up and down. “I guarantee you’ll accept it,” he says coolly.

“Gideon, I’ll speak to you when you’re in a better mood. ”

Then he’s gone, leaving us in a pool of silence that Eli abruptly breaks. “How can you listen to that wanker?” he says loudly, waving his arms in agitation. “He’s a total tosser, and you let him do it to you. Why?”

I settle back in my chair, contrarily enjoying the signs of him losing his cool. I shrug finally. “It’s always been that way. He doesn’t do it that often.”

“But the way he spoke to you. You’re Gideon Ramsay. You’ve got a sharper tongue on you than a fucking saw. Why do you allow it?”

I sigh, considering telling him to mind his own fucking business.

The sharp words are actually on the edge of my tongue.

But I look at him standing there ready to defend me, and I can’t say any of the hurtful things I’d normally manage without blinking.

“I let it go on because it was easier, and in the beginning it was just me and him,” I say slowly.

“I was his baby client and he went to town for me and looked after me. I guess I hadn’t had anyone do that before.

It was always just me on my own, really.

No one ever seemed that interested in me.

So, to have this powerful man convinced I was the next best thing to sliced bread and to tell me so was very flattering.

” I stare out to the port of Nice that is shimmering in a heat haze despite how early it is.

“I don’t know when it got worse, but it’s hard to break ties when they’re that strong. ”

“He wants you to lie,” he says stubbornly, and I’m suddenly stung.

“Look at you,” I say coldly. “You’re just a baby. What would you know about lying? Everyone in my world does it. It’s more common than blow. People smile and laugh and flatter you and it’s all lies. Every single word.”

“Then maybe you should leave that world,” he says staunchly, his fists clenched and forehead furrowed. His blond, wavy hair lifts in the breeze, showing different colours of ash and platinum, butter and sand.

“And do what?”

“Live,” he says passionately. “Because the way I hear it, you were cruising down a path fairly quickly that would have landed you dead. Isn’t it better to be alive and doing something different rather than dead and cold?”

“Well, I’m one of those things at the moment,” I say lightly, aiming to disperse this drama. “This towel isn’t covering much.”

His eyes betray him, and I catch the quick glance he sends down my body, the way his pupils dilate and the sudden deep breath he takes. I can see the rejection forming on his lips and suddenly I want to be somewhere else.

“Let’s go out,” I say and he jerks, looking at me in disbelief.

“ Now ?”

“Yes, now. Why not?” I stand up. “I can’t change reality, Eli, so let’s do something fun to fill the time.”

“I somehow think that’s a well-used expression,” he says darkly.

“Of course it is. Along with ‘of course I’ll swallow’ and ‘I’ll ring you.’” An unwilling smile tugs at his lips. “Come on,” I urge. “We’re in Nice. It’s so beautiful, and it’s only early morning. We’ve got all day. Let’s hire a car and go out and see the place.”

“Together?”

I nod briskly, ignoring my sweaty palms. “Of course. I can’t promise that I’ll throw your phone in the sea and book a room that rents by the hour, but I’m sure you’ll make the best of it.”

He hesitates but I can see I’ve won. “And you’ll do exactly what I say?” he says slowly.

Ignoring the flare of heat at those words, I nod. “Of course.” I raise my fingers and sketch a cross. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

“Oh please, not that again,” he scoffs. He capitulates. “Okay. But I’m taking my med bag. There is to be no drug-taking, drinking, or casual sex whatsoever.”

“Goodness, it’s like going on a date with one of the Jonas brothers.”

He stills. “Is it a date?”

I stare at him, silence falling that’s only filled with the noise of the wind and sea.

“Do you want it to be?” He looks at me for too long a moment, and I make myself shrug.

“Of course it’s not. It’ll be a completely non-date where I will make no passes whatsoever and won’t even attempt to rein in my natural grouchiness. ”

He smiles sadly. “That I can do.”