Page 99 of The Good Neighbour

“Here’s to reunions,” Josh said.

“And love,” Hugh added, catching Josh’s eye.

“And coming good on deals,” Michael said. “I believe you have some information for us, Josh Winterton.”

Later that night, with their naked bodies entwined, Josh and Hugh held on to each other tightly. The hotel where Hugh and Michael were staying was scruffy at best and a health hazard at worst. Josh would relocate them all the next day. He might as well spend his money before Winston got his paws on it.

“I can’t believe you did that for me,” Hugh said, stroking Josh’s arm.

“Nor can I,” Josh replied. “Mrs Wimpole was in her element.”

Hugh shuddered. “She got hurt. Poor Mrs W. I’ll have to send her some flowers.”

“Get well soon and congratulations.”

“Fuck,” Hugh said. “That adds a whole new finale idea for the show.”

“A wedding?”

“Why not?”

It could work. They had been struggling for something with real showbiz pizzazz. Hugh and Michael as brides would certainly be that.

“Do you think they’ve done it?” Hugh asked.

The mental images that flashed in Josh’s mind had to be banished forever.

“Fuck, Hugh. Don’t.”

Hugh cackled. He squirmed out of Josh’s clutches and hopped off the bed.

“Where are you going?”

Josh’s arms might miss Hugh but his eyes were feasting on such a body. He needed it back against him as soon as possible.

Hugh held up his phone. “I’ve got to make a call.”

“Do you want me to go in the bathroom?”

Hugh perched on the end of the bed. “Don’t be silly. It won’t take a minute.”

He dialled a number and held the phone to his ear. Josh had a suspicion he knew who Hugh was calling.

“Mother? It’s me. Yes I’m fine. Under the circumstances.”

He glanced at Josh.

“Listen, I’ve a message for Donald. No I’m not starting anything. I’m finishing it. Tell him from me if he doesn’t stop Kevin from trying to fuck up my career, then my good friend Mrs Wimpole will be reporting him for GBH. I’ll let Donald explain the rest to you. Oh and by the way, I would stay away from the newsstands for the next few days.”

He terminated the call and threw the phone onto the dressing table. He crawled up the bed toward Josh’s eager arms.

“That’s done it,” Josh said.

Hugh snuggled into him. “Let Donald face the music. He’s lucky he’s not attending his son’s trial.”

Mrs Wimpole had absolutely no intention of suing the Hoggs. They didn’t need to know that.

“What did you mean about the newsstands?”