by Thom Collins
“Jesus.”
“Inevitably, the photos were sold to the press and were tabloid front page one Sunday. There were others too. Tara taking drugs in front of the boy, that kind of thing. Arnie went ballistic and flew straight back from America. He’s had full-time custody of AJ ever since. As far as I’m aware, Tara has never tried to contest it. She’s too busy running around with her jet-set friends. Look her up sometime. You’ll find plenty of good reading.”
Dominic laughed softly. “I’ll pass. I hate all that shit. Self-centered people with more money than sense.”
“Tara maybe. Definitely not Arnie.”
“No,” Dominic said, thinking again about that handsome face and those incredible eyes. “He seems…nice.”
“Nice?” Jacob said, shifting his gaze to meet Dominic’s. “Do I detect more than casual interest?”
“Maybe.” Then he shook his head. “No. No, I’m not interested in anything more,” he said. An outright lie.
“Why not? Arnie is single at the moment. I’m sure of it.”
“Really?”
“As far as I’m aware. If he’s seeing anyone, he hasn’t told his mother, ’cause she tells us everything.” He laughed and sipped his drink. “I thought you were seeing Gabriel Mayne.”
“Not really. We’ve…seen each other a couple of times. It’s nothing.”
“Well, then. You’ve got nothing to lose. Why don’t you ask Arnie out? He’s perfect for you. You’ll be great together.”
Dominic finished his drink. He’d had enough. It was time to go to bed. “I just…no. I’m not interested in a relationship with anyone. Arnie is a famous actor with a complicated lifestyle. That kind of bullshit is not for me.”
The words sounded convincing. When waking up tomorrow, he hoped to believe them himself.
Chapter Four
After a restless night in which he couldn’t have slept for more than a couple of hours, Arnie got up at six thirty and put on running shorts, T-shirt and sneakers. He looked in on AJ, still fast asleep with the covers pulled up to his ears, and went downstairs. Leaving the door open so he’d hear AJ if he woke, he went into the courtyard and performed a basic workout in the small open space. It was a standard boot camp routine of stretches, lunges, push-ups, burpees, star-jumps and a jog, around and around the yard. After half an hour his heart was racing and he’d built up a decent sweat.
It had been his intention to go for a long run on North Point today. After last night, he couldn’t see that ever being a possibility. He would look into joining a local gym later in the week. It was a shame when there was such great countryside and so many beaches to get active upon, but from now on he would think carefully about where he went, especially with AJ.
It was a beautiful morning. The wind had died overnight and the sky was pure blue, promising a glorious day ahead.
Arnie went inside and poured a glass of cold orange juice. He grabbed his phone and checked for news on the state of last night’s assault victim. There was a small feature on the regional North East page of the BBC website. The details were scant—a woman rescued by Nyemouth lifeboat after falling off the cliff. The unnamed victim was in a stable condition in hospital.
Arnie exhaled. Thank God for that. Stable didn’t mean she was out of trouble. She could have all kinds of life-changing injuries, but she was alive. Not dead on the rocks or washed thirty miles out to sea. She had made it through the night. He would try to learn more about her later. Maybe visit her in hospital if that were possible. For now, he’d be grateful for the fact that she had survived.
When he went upstairs, AJ remained fast asleep. Good. At least he’d had a decent night. The police would come around at some point today, looking to get his side of the story. The little guy would have to go through it all again. For now, he could sleep.
Arnie dumped his clothes in the laundry basket and showered. After a rough night, it was amazing how much better a hard workout and a good wash made him feel. He stood beneath the faucet for a long time, allowing the hot spray to rain over his body. He tilted his head so the heat could get to work on the tension in his neck and shoulders.
As well as reliving the attack repeatedly throughout the night, he’d spent a good deal of time dreaming about Dominic. The crewman had made a strong and lasting impression in the brief time they’d shared. Little wonder, when he looked the way he did. Thickset and muscular, with that dark hair and those dreamy eyes, and the stubble on his broad chin so thick it was almost a beard. Thinking about him now made Arnie’s pulse race.
He was a hell of a man.
How long had it been since he’d last had a guy? Arnie struggled to remember. There was Nick, a West End theater manager. They’d had a casual thing going, on and off for two years, after Arnie had appeared in a play there. It had never been serious. Arnie valued discretion and as Nick was also in the industry, he understood. He was a nice guy, good-looking and friendly, but it was nothing more than sex. Besides, Nick had started a new relationship, so they hadn’t seen each other in, what, four months?
And before that? A fling last year with his costar on a low-budget British thriller. The man was as deeply in the closet as Arnie had once been, and there was no chance of it going further. The affair had been as brief as the three-week film shoot.
No wonder he’d taken notice of a hot guy like Dominic.
He was on the verge of becoming celibate.
He formed a mental picture of Dominic, trying to recall him exactly. Their meeting had been short. How much could he remember?
The dark hair and smoldering eyes for sure. Arnie had always had a thing for dark men. And meaty. Oh, yes. Dominic’s broad, muscular build was exactly what he liked. It didn’t matter that he was a good four to five inches shorter than Arnie. He was six-foot-four, and most guys were. Dominic was so rugged and masculine that the height difference did not matter.
He’d been wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. The way his clothes had clung to him hinted at a fine body beneath. The wide swell of his chest. The compact thickness of his waist. Arnie could easily imagine him naked, with solid thighs and a big, beefy butt. He hoped he was hairy too, that his muscular chest was covered in a luxurious spread of dark hair.
As he thought about Dominic naked, the effect was profound. Arnie caressed the full length of his hard cock and tugged his balls, imaging that powerful body next to his.
No. He caught himself. There was no time for this today. He turned the shower lever to cold and the icy water dwindled his erection in seconds. Thoughts of Dominic would have to wait.
Thoroughly dried, he checked his reflection in the mirror. He’d shaved on Saturday. Today was Monday. He ran his fingers over the bristles on his chin.
Fuck it!
Another day wouldn’t hurt. He was on holiday. If he couldn’t cut loose for a couple of days now, he never would. He washed his face and rubbed in a moisturizer with a basic 15 SPF. He towel-dried his dirty blond hair and texturized it with a tiny amount of wax.
It was seven thirty. Dressed in a pair of cream chino shorts and a navy linen shirt, he looked in on AJ. The boy lifted a sleepy head from the pillow.
“Morning, sunshine,” Arnie said, sitting on the end of the bed. “Did you sleep well?”
AJ nodded, stretching beneath the covers and rubbing his eyes.
“Ready for some breakfast?” Arnie asked.
Another nod. AJ’s hair stuck up at crazy angles.
Arnie patted his foot through the bed clothes. “Ten minutes, okay?”
In the kitchen, he put the kettle on to boil and set two places at the breakfast bar. There were fresh eggs in the fridge. Poached eggs on toast. Perfect. It would make a change from the cereal they’d had yesterday.
Arnie was still getting used to the layout of the kitchen and had to hunt through several of the cupboards to find a suitable pan. As he filled it with water, the intercom gave a loud buzz.
There was someone at the main gate.
Don’
t be the police, he thought. Not this early. He wanted AJ to have breakfast before giving his statement.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Arnie Walker?” There was some distortion on the mic, but he didn’t recognize the voice of the speaker.
“Who is this?”
A pause. “The name is Robert Goldman. I work for the Northumberland Gazette. I’m following up a story on the lifeboat rescue last night. I understand you were involved, Mr. Walker.”
Shit. He should have known the press would get onto his contribution. There had been plenty of people at the station yesterday, and in a small town like Nyemouth, word got around fast.
“Mr. Walker,” the reporter continued. “Is it true you made the emergency call to alert the Coastguard? Did you see the man who carried out the attack?”
“I’ve given a full statement on the matter to the police and have nothing further to add, other than that my thoughts and prayers are with the victim, and I wish her a speedy recovery.”
“Can you confirm reports that a masked man threw the woman over the cliff?”
“I have nothing more to say and suggest you contact the local police for a statement.” Arnie shut off the intercom.
Off the ground-floor hall was a small study where the CCTV controls were housed. He checked the camera on the front gate. He watched as a portly man in a badly fitting suit climbed into a white Nissan. So far it was only one reporter, and a local guy at that. It would be naïve to expect it to stay that way. The nationals would soon be onto it.
Tara and her rock-star lover, Richie, were in the gossip columns every other day. They were news. Though he did his best to avoid it, by default, it made Arnie and AJ newsworthy too.
He’d have to give them something to keep them off his case. They’d come to Nyemouth to escape media intrusion for the summer. That would all be ruined if the paparazzi came north and followed them around.
His only option was to make a statement. And say what? He knew nothing. He’d witnessed a crime and reported it. That was all he had to offer.
He would speak to the police first, so he didn’t say anything stupid to the press that might harm their investigation.
* * * *
A police officer arrived just after ten. PC Romany. AJ was watching YouTube clips in the living room. Arnie took the officer to the kitchen.
“I hoped you could give me an update on the victim,” he said.
“She’s heavily sedated,” PC Romany told him. “We haven’t been able to speak to her yet, so it’s vital we get all the information we can from witnesses such as yourself.”
“I understand. Have you established her identity?”
She consulted her notebook. “Her name is Sandy Costello. Do you know her?”
“No. Sorry. I haven’t heard of her. Does she live around here?”
“She does. On the Greenways Estate, on the south side of the river.”
“It’s awful. Does she have family here?”
“No. Ms. Costello lives alone. We’re still trying to build a picture of her life. Her movements. Her friends. That kind of thing.”
“You’re not aware of any motive, then?”
“We’re considering all lines of inquiry,” she said with a tight smile.
“Of course.”
Arnie sat with AJ while PC Romany took his statement. He answered all of his questions with a good recollection, even providing a clear description of the attacker’s footwear, a detail Arnie had failed to notice. He was proud of him.
Afterward, he asked the officer for permission to post a brief statement on his social media account. He kept it vague, stating the fact that he had witnessed an incident and asking anyone with further information to contact the police directly. He said his thoughts were with the victim, without naming her, and that he hoped her assailant would be caught as quickly as possible. Romany read it back and gave her approval for him to post it.
Arnie hoped it would be enough to keep the press away, but he doubted it.
Later, he dropped AJ at his parents’ house. They had offered to take him and his cousins to the cinema for the afternoon, figuring a movie would be a good distraction for the kids. Arnie thought it was a great idea and arranged to meet them later at a restaurant on the marina.
“Dinner’s on me tonight,” he’d said. “Don’t be late.”
With the afternoon ahead of him, he put on sunglasses and a hat and went for a walk. Generally, he could stroll around his hometown without being bothered, but given the circumstances and news coverage, he wanted to keep an even lower profile than usual. He’d had several missed calls from his agent. Listening to his voicemail confirmed the worst. He’d had a dozen requests for interviews from newspapers and TV shows that morning. Arnie called back and left a message with his agent’s secretary.
“I won’t be giving any interviews on this matter, so please turn down all requests,” he said. “No exceptions. I’m off grid until the end of August. Please make sure it stays that way.”
He’d committed to an independent movie that started shooting in London in late September. The filming dates fit perfectly with AJ’s autumn term. After that, there was a TV show beginning in the new year. He had sufficient work to see him through the next nine months. That was good enough for now. He didn’t want to be bothered with work-related calls when he’d set the summer aside to be with his son.
Arnie wandered through the town center. Nyemouth had altered little in the last thirty years. There’d been some major investment and regeneration of the harbor area, but the main square and shopping area were essentially the same as when he’d grown up here. A handful of businesses had changed ownership and there were more coffee shops than he remembered, but nothing much had altered.
His wandering took him to the marina. He had known from the outset that it would. Bright sunlight sparkled on the blue waters of the bay. Most of the boats in the fishing fleet were out. During summer, the inshore boats would return sometime between six and seven, while the larger trawlers would stay out at sea for four or five days at a time, as long as the weather permitted.
It was Monday. There were less tourists around than at the weekend, but as it was school holiday time, there were a few families enjoying the warm afternoon. Arnie fondly remembered days exactly like this from his own childhood, when freedom seemed endless, stretching ahead of him. He’d hoped that by bringing AJ to Nyemouth, his son could experience one of those timeless and magical summers for himself. Last night’s incident had torpedoed any realistic expectation of that.
Arnie passed in front of the recently regenerated waterfront, past the restaurants and craft shops, and the specialist food stores selling local fish and produce. People sat outside the many bars and pubs, enjoying the terraces, drinking in the sun. He kept moving, not wanting to be seen or recognized, and without consciously planning it, found himself on the approach to the lifeboat station.
And there was Dominic.
The wide front doors of the station were open. Dominic appeared to be giving instructions to a younger man, gesturing toward the lifeboat.
He wore a dark gray T-shirt and cargo shorts. The outfit hugged his broad physique, contouring the muscles of his chest and shoulders, and the mighty fine sweep of his big arse. His skin was deeply tanned, an obvious benefit of his outdoor pursuits. No tattoos that Arnie could see, and he was quietly pleased. So many guys were excessively inked these days, that it was refreshing to find a man who wasn’t.
He liked the short cut of Dominic’s hair and the way it graded into the brown skin on the back of his neck. Despite its thickness on top, there was something military-looking in its practical style. And it suited him. A lot.
A queer feeling came over Arnie as he watched Dominic. It was unusual for a stranger to affect him in this way, on a purely physical level, provoking an odd, nervous sensation. It reminded him of live performance. Those last few tension filled minutes before going on stage—a mix of fear, anticipation and excite
ment.
Pull yourself together. This is no opening night. He’s just a nice, regular guy. Go over and say hello.
Arnie took a deep breath and approached the station with a confidence he did not feel.
“Hi,” he said, sounding light, casual. Like speaking to Dominic was no big deal.
Dominic turned. His dark eyes settled on Arnie and, as recognition dawned, Arnie could swear he saw them sparkle. A huge grin spread across Dominic’s face, quite disarming in contrast with his naturally moody countenance.
“Hey. How are you doing?”
He stuck out his hand. Was it Arnie’s imagination, or was Dominic’s grip firmer and more lingering than last night?
“I’m good, thanks. I didn’t expect to see you here today.”
“I call by the station most afternoons,” he said. “There’s always something to be done. Maintenance, cleaning, inventory. After a shout like yesterday, I like to double-check that all the supplies we used have been replenished. The first aid kit and stuff like that. This is Noel,” he said, introducing the young man with him.
Noel was in his late teens, with dark red hair and a freckled complexion. He smiled self-consciously and didn’t offer his hand. He lacked Dominic’s confidence, but Arnie supposed most other men would.
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” Arnie said.
The boy nodded awkwardly. Arnie didn’t pursue it further. He noticed that with a lot of young people these days—so many of them were lacking in basic social skills. He was determined AJ wouldn’t fall into that trap.
“Have you got time for a drink?” Dominic asked. “Tea? Coffee? Something cold? We were just about to take a break.”
“I’d love one, thanks.”
He followed Dominic to the crew room. Last night, probably due to the shock, he’d failed to notice how little the station had changed since he helped out here as a kid. There were large boards on all the walls, noting the dates and times of all the major rescues the lifeboat had been involved with, going all the way back to 1864.
“Wow,” he said, as they passed into the kitchen. “All this stuff, the history of the place, it meant nothing to me when I was young. I barely took any notice of it, but it’s remarkable. It really is.”
