Companion Required

by Brian Lancaster

  He’d noticed Kennedy peering at him quizzically a couple of times of late—when Kieran laughed along with the girls, when he leaned in playfully and pecked Kennedy on the cheek, or when he jumped up to help the villa staff bring food to the table. Kieran had decided to live by his words, to enjoy the last days of their time together unencumbered by any negative or melancholy emotions.

  Because, clearly, something Kennedy hadn’t realised or appreciated was how much Kieran had changed. Not only did he feel a newfound confidence in himself, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was looking forward to the future.

  On the Monday morning after their return, he would be starting a new and exciting job. Not only that, but with the ten thousand pounds—double the amount agreed—sitting in his bank account, he could not only pay his sister, pay off a chunk of his and his brother’s studies and get himself a new suit, but have enough to put down a deposit on his own rented place. How could he possibly hate Kennedy for that?

  Finally, he had a future—even if that future did not include Kennedy.

  On their last night together, they visited a restaurant recommended by the guidebooks, Sunset Spice, a Balinese seafood restaurant built on the beach, overlooking the sea and the sunset. While Kennedy walked barefoot out onto the sand to take a phone call, Kieran marvelled at how healthy he looked with his deep tan, accentuated by his beige chino shorts and short-sleeved white cotton shirt.

  “Kieran, we’ve been meaning to ask. How would you feel about sharing your swimmers with us?” asked Laurie, a little sheepishly.

  Kieran’s mind had been elsewhere and, with the small bottle of Bintang in his hand, he turned quizzically to them.

  “Which ones? The red or the gold?”

  Steph choked on her cocktai, then proceeded to cough uncontrollably. Laurie laughed too, and patted Steph on the back.

  “Your sperm, Kieran. Steph and I want to start a family and, well, we think you would make the perfect donor. What do you think?”

  This time Kieran dropped the bottle he had been holding to his mouth, and only just managed to catch it before the contents spilled all over the tablecloth.

  “For heaven’s sake, Laurie,” said Kieran, aghast, but catching up quickly. “Drop a bombshell, why don’t you?”

  “Seriously, though,” said Steph. “It would be great if you could think this over. We’re going to do it anyway—one of the reasons Laurie’s been losing weight—and we were set on using a reputable semen bank friends of ours had recommended. Even though they give you information about the history of the donors, you’re unlikely to get to meet them. If it’s any consolation, we both came up with the idea of asking you.”

  “What would I need to do? I mean, I’m not sure I’m ready to bring a child into the world.”

  “To put it bluntly, it’s only your sperm we need. Usually donors in the UK don’t have any legal obligation to the child or any responsibility in how the child is brought up. They don’t need to support the child financially and they’re not even named on the birth certificate. But the reason we’re asking you is because we’d be more than happy for you to be a part of our child’s life, but only if that’s what you want.”

  “Wow, girls. That’s a lot to take on board.”

  “I know. We both do. But will you at least consider it?”

  “Of course I will. But why didn’t you ask Kennedy? He’s your best friend.”

  “I ran the idea past him months ago. In a subtle, but theoretical way. If you’d seen the look of horror on his face, you’d know why I’d never consider him. Even if it’s not strictly his own, I think Kennedy would freak out about the simple notion of knowing there’s a kid out there with his genes.”

  “Funny, I can’t think of anything nicer,” said Kieran.

  Even though he had been looking at Kennedy, he didn’t miss the exchange of glances between the girls.

  “Don’t take too much time to think it over,” said Steph. “Clock’s ticking, as they say.”

  Steph reached out her almost empty glass to clink a cheers with the neck of Kieran’s bottle.

  “Christ! You want me to fill it now?” said Kieran, nodding at the glass, a mischievous smile on his face, which had both girls laughing aloud.

  “What did I miss?” came Kennedy’s voice.

  “Nothing,” said Kieran, smiling up at him. “Absolutely nothing.”

  * * * *

  Two hours before their arrival into Heathrow, Kieran awoke to a member of the cabin crew placing a tray of breakfast in front of him, onto a tray table he hadn’t set up. When he rubbed his eyes and looked to his right, he found Kennedy smiling at him.

  “I know you’d never forgive me if I let you miss breakfast.”

  “Too right,” said Kieran, laughing and raising the seat into a sitting position.

  Sex on that last night in Bali had felt more like making love—unhurried, familiar and mutually satisfying. Not a word had passed between them, like a rite of passage, as though they’d both felt this would be the last time. Which, in reality, it probably had been. In the morning, Kieran had refused to feel sad, and had packed his bags while making casual conversation with Kennedy, the girls and the villa staff as they packed his things into the back of their airport transfer van. Even though they all arrived at the airport together, the girls had different flights, so they made their farewells before boarding.

  Back in England, Heathrow’s organised chaos came as no surprise when the country’s busiest airport woke to a new day.

  “Kieran, where are you going?” called Kennedy, about to head for the terminal’s meeting point.

  “To the Tube station,” he said, pushing his trolley towards the main doors. On the flight back, he had resolved to make the parting as painless as possible. But he needed to do so quickly.

  “Ben’s bringing the car round. We can drop you off.”

  Unless a person knew the real man, they wouldn’t know that Kennedy’s voice sounded almost pleading.

  “No need,” said Kieran, plastering a smile on his face, his stomach twisting a little, but his resolve firm. “I’ve got it from here. Take good care of yourself, Kennedy. And thank you for absolutely everything. You’re really special, you know. Don’t ever forget that.”

  With those final parting words, he turned and walked away, unable to look back.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Kennedy

  For the first time in his life, Kennedy felt lost.

  Which was odd in itself, because everything concerning the merger had come together beautifully, better than anyone could have dreamed. Erin, Karl and the rest of the management team had been stoked at the idea, and had loudly voiced their approval at their first meeting on his return. In the past, Erin had often questioned why they’d not spread the wings of their expertise into the domestic security market, and now a ready-made, successful company would be joining their ranks not as an acquisition, but as a partnership, with the company’s talent working alongside them. Even Sloan had quietly nodded his approval, although Kennedy knew him well enough to recognise the stalwart countenance of a defeated man. Before long, Kennedy would need to have the chat with Sloan. The last thing he wanted was to have the man walk and, moreover, Sloan needed to understand why he was critical to the merger’s success.

  With meeting after meeting happening—some at ungodly hours—he’d had little time to think about anything else. And usually work provided an excellent distraction.

  Not anymore, though. Things had slowed. Sometimes during meetings, his thoughts would drift back two months, to a certain naked man heading for the shower after a session or two of mutually satisfying sex, or to Kieran’s body laid out on the beach, beautiful in mouth-watering scarlet swimming briefs, soaking up the Bali sun. But more than all of those, he missed Kieran’s sparkling eyes and incredible smile that lit up in amusement, grinning playfully at something Kennedy had either said or done. And the thought kept hitting him hard, punching a hole thr
ough his chest, especially when he arrived home late each night, when he stood for a moment on the threshold of his empty house, knowing he could have had everything.

  And all he’d needed to do was ask.

  Ask if Kieran would like to be a part of his life. They could have stayed in touch, met up occasionally for drinks and dinner, seen how things went in the real world. But Kennedy had made his cold, plain intentions clear from the outset, something he always did in his business life, and now he felt empty, eviscerated. Mainly because Kieran had honoured the very rules Kennedy had damned himself with. Moreover, would Kennedy be happy having Kieran around occasionally, or did he want something more? Hell, who was he kidding? Could he handle casual with Kieran? The question didn’t even need asking. But before he made any personal call to action, would Kieran even be interested?

  “What do you want, Kennedy?” came the gentle American-accented female voice next to him, a soft hand landing on his sleeve.

  “You know, I have absolutely no idea,” came Kennedy’s detached voice, from somewhere inside him.

  “Me either. Let’s get one of each and then we can all share.”

  When Kennedy raised his eyes, he saw the businesspeople around him, seated at the restaurant table, chatting amiably. Kyle Crystal, the vice president of Cold Steel, sat opposite with his wife, Jerry. Sloan and his fiancée, Mary-Anne, sat next to them with Giorgio sitting to his left. Kelly-Anne Marie Milletto sat next to Kennedy, on his right, her hand almost possessively resting on his sleeve. Only Kennedy had sat unaccompanied with’ no significant other to bring. As usual.

  Kelly-Anne had been the one speaking to him, mulling over the dessert choices. Kennedy had warmed to her immediately. Probably five or six years older than him, Kelly-Anne Marie had amazing perception. Giorgio had been spot-on with his assessment of his wife.

  When Kennedy looked at the young, blond, perfectly sculpted waiter to Mary-Anne’s right, the young man’s smile and prolonged eye contact with Kennedy could only mean one thing.

  “One of each sounds great,” said Kennedy, pulling the small, laminated dessert menu up to his face to cover his view. The over-attentiveness of the waiter had begun to rankle. “There’re only six of them, after all.”

  “I’m all for that,” said Mary-Anne, grinning at her mother. “Custard apple crumble, apricot layer cake, brandy crème brûlée, New York cheesecake, chocolate brownie with caramel ice cream and English spotted dick—whatever the heck that is. Yuck. Sounds like an STD. Sloan here’s not really a dessert person.”

  “Yes. I’ll pass, if that’s okay? Until it’s time to order coffee.”

  Kennedy noticed Sloan whisper a few words to his fiancée, peck her on the cheek then stand up from the table. No doubt he was heading outside for a cigarette. With the chill November air and the heavy rain, only an ardent smoker would brave the weather. Maybe now was Kennedy’s opportunity.

  He decided to wait for desserts to arrive and for everyone to sample the fare before making his move. Once again the young waiter stood to Kennedy’s left—in between him and Milletto—to deliver the food, subtly rubbing his thigh up against Kennedy’s arm as he placed each dish onto the table.

  A year ago Kennedy might have been flattered, might have even taken the young guy up on his advances, but that switch had been flicked off.

  Once everyone had sampled the sweets, Giorgio wanted to order coffee, so Kennedy excused himself from the table to go and fetch Sloan. He found his colleague standing under the restaurant canopy, overlooking the car park. When Kennedy moved to stand next to him, Sloan nodded, before continuing to stare out at the heavy rain clattering on the regiment of cars.

  “Popular tonight,” said Sloan.

  For an amused moment, Kennedy realised he and Sloan rarely talked about anything other than work issues.

  “Me?” asked Kennedy. “You mean with our colleagues and their other halves?”

  Sloan snorted and nodded at something behind Kennedy. When Kennedy turned, he noticed the young waiter who had been flirting with him standing twenty feet away, leaning against a wall beneath a canopy, smoking a cigarette. On noticing them, he raised a hand in greeting. Kennedy waved back.

  “You were here first. I think he might be checking you out, not me,” said Kennedy.

  “If only I were gay, things would be so much easier,” said Sloan, puffing a plume of smoke into the night.

  Kennedy was not about to let that one go without a comment.

  “You think it’s easy?” asked Kennedy, folding his arms. “So here’s a few home truths. First off, Sloan, with a face and body like yours, you’d have seen a shitload of action. But the all-you-can-eat coming-out buffet soon gets cold and old, and eventually even us gays want to settle down—most of us, anyway. And right then, gay or straight, we’re all on the same playing field. But please don’t think for one minute that being gay and in a relationship is any easier. You met Patrick. What part of our relationship looked easy to you?”

  Sloan laughed. One thing Kennedy liked about him was that he’d never had a problem being around Kennedy and Patrick as a couple. But even Sloan had not been able to refrain from commenting with irritation on Patrick’s total lack of interest in their business and their significant successes.

  “So,” said Sloan, after a moment’s contemplation. “I suppose congratulations are in order. You’ve finally managed to ship off your pain-in-the-ass chief operating officer. Not only to the other side of the world, but to the in-laws, no less. Bravo.”

  “Is that really how you see this?”

  “Is there any other way?”

  “Christ, Sloan. Wake up and smell the coffee. You’re the one person in my office who keeps me on my toes. Everyone else does what I tell them. You’re also one of the few who understands how all the departments drive the business forward, someone who doesn’t bury themselves in their own area of specialism. Your future father-in-law needs to see that, needs to witness your drive and ambition first-hand. A year from now, you’ll be one of a very short list of people who has gotten beneath the skin of the new, wider company, just as we’re ready to go public. And right then, we’re going to need someone charismatic to romance investors. I’m not giving you a prison sentence, Sloan, I’m handing you a golden ticket.”

  “So you’re not just getting rid of me?”

  “Say the word. I’ll keep you here and send Karl instead.”

  Sloan peered sidelong at Kennedy before turning back and puffing out a trail of smoke.

  “No. I’m in for the long haul. Besides, Mary-Anne’s looking forward to spending time with her mother, arranging our wedding.”

  “And the other plus is, you’ll be able to fly your kids over to visit, take them to Disneyland and Universal. That should earn you a few brownie points in the absent-dad stakes. And you can do it all without the ex breathing down your neck, or showing up screaming in the office reception.”

  “Oh God,” said Sloan, turning to Kennedy, his expression mortified. “You heard about that?”

  “No, I literally heard it. My office backs onto reception, remember? Don’t worry, Sloan. I’ve got your back. We all have our crosses to bear. And anyway, seems like you’ve fallen on your feet with Mary-Anne.”

  “You know what? She’s it for me, Kennedy. Yeah, I know she’s a lot younger, but this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. She’s probably the first person who actually understands me and will tell me if she thinks I’m being an idiot or can see that I’m in the wrong.”

  Like mother, like daughter, thought Kennedy, while Sloan continued speaking.

  “I know I’ve acquired something of a reputation, having married twice before. But what people don’t know—not really something a man likes to admit to—is that my first wife cheated on me a year into our marriage, and her best friend, who’d been the chief bridesmaid, someone who stood by me through the messy break-up and subsequent divorce, became my second wife. Total disaster. Our two kids were the only good
things to come out of the catastrophe. Hindsight is a beautiful thing and only now I see what a mistake I made. A wise soul once told me mistakes fall into three categories. Ones you simply can’t fix and have to live with, others you can but only if you really want to, and some you don’t want to make right, because the mistake has given you something better.”

  “Someone recently told me something similar about problems.”

  Sloan laughed and stubbed out his cigarette.

  “Same thing, I suppose. I’m going back inside. You coming?”

  “In a minute.”

  Kennedy needed a moment alone, staring out at the heavy sheets of rain. Maybe someone like Sloan could put problems and mistakes into one pot and call them the same. But they were not. In Kennedy’s experience, problems often occurred due to external factors, beyond a person’s control, randomly, often unpredictable. Mistakes were different. Mistakes he saw as personal, and really—and here he agreed with Sloan—a person had the choice to decide whether to fix them or not, and whether to show both vulnerability and courage by enlisting the help of others to do so.

  And the simple home truth? He’d made a terrible mistake. His dilemma? Could this one be fixed?

  After a deep breath, he pulled out his phone and checked the time—eight minutes past ten. Straight afterwards, he scrolled down his list of contacts. After pushing the call option for one, he waited a few seconds before a familiar voice answered.

  “Hey, Leonard. Are you up for a drink? I need to run something by you.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Kieran

  Ever since Kieran had returned to England and come out to Cole with a confession about his first time with Kennedy, peppered with enough detail to convince his friend of the authenticity—almost two months ago to the day—Cole had been comfortable enough to strut around his apartment in only his Armani underwear. Through an extensively used gym membership, Cole had cultivated a sculpted body and had acquired more than his fair share of admirers, if the number of weekends he returned home in the early hours was anything to go by. And although objectively Kieran appreciated his flatmate’s smooth, muscular form, he definitely preferred the carved lines and hairiness of Kennedy’s body