Marshall's Park, The Complete Series . 01-2014

by Lisa Worrall

  “Thomas, that’s it!” Aiden crowed placing a hearty slap to Finn’s upper arm—pausing to squeeze the bicep he found there. Finn felt the warmth of embarrassment in his cheeks as Aiden whistled through his teeth and sing-songed; “Someone’s been working out.”

  “This way, gentlemen.” The maitre ‘d’s voice held a frosty air as he led Finn and Aiden towards a table at the back of the room.

  Not that Finn could blame him for wanting to keep them away from the other patrons with Aiden acting so oddly. Oddly? Really? That’s what you’re going with? Finn sighed inwardly at the sarcasm of his inner voice, knowing he was attempting to find reasons for Aiden’s behavior, but there really was only one explanation—his date was completely bombed.

  “Thank you, garcon,” Aiden chirruped, dropping the maitre ‘d a wink as he sat down at the table. “A bottle of house red, silver plate.”

  “Two glasses, sir? Or would you prefer a straw?”

  Finn bit back a groan as he took his seat. “Two glasses and a jug of ice water, please,” he said, absolutely mortified but not sure how they could leave without drawing even more attention to themselves. The way Aiden currently had his nose pressed to the menu, Finn didn’t think he’d leave without a fight. Finn ran a nervous hand through his hair. What the hell was going on? This was not the Aiden he knew. But you don’t know him. He cleared his throat and picked up his menu. “Aiden, are you okay?” Finn said, keeping his voice low. “I mean you seem… excitable.”

  Aiden peered over the top of the wine list at him. “Do I?” He blinked as though he were having trouble focusing. “I feel great.”

  Finn winced as Aiden drew out the last word and increased the decibel level, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that he had his back to the rest of the restaurant and couldn’t actually see everyone staring at them. He gazed down at the menu and tried to focus on the dishes displayed there. This wasn’t the path he’d imagined tonight taking, but if he managed to get through the meal, he could make a quick excuse, drop Aiden off and run for the hills. He sighed as he tried to decide which of the chef’s concoctions would take him the least time to eat, the fingers of doubt scratching at the surface of his mind. The question was, did he really want to run for the hills?

  Maybe Aiden had been nervous and had tried to dampen his anxiety with a glass of wine. A glass? More like a trough! Look at the state of him! Finn glanced at Aiden and closed his eyes briefly at the sight of Aiden picking the petals off a rose he’d taken out of the vase on the table, while mumbling beneath his breath. Please tell me he’s not doing “he loves me, he loves me not”. Finn ignored the little voice bellowing in his ear, mostly because he had a feeling it was right, judging by the whimsical smile on Aiden’s lips. Even so, something about Aiden’s behavior still didn’t sit right with Finn and he had the sudden urge to stand up and state in the manner of a TV quizmaster, “Will the real Aiden Reid come on down!”

  “Your drinks, gentlemen.” A tall, thin man placed an ice bucket carrying a bottle of what Finn assumed was the house red Aiden had requested, on the table—together with a large jug of iced water. The waiter deftly uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into Aiden’s glass, raising an inquisitive eyebrow when Finn covered his own glass with the flat of his hand. The same eyebrow rising a little higher when Aiden swallowed a healthy mouthful and licked his lips before he announced his appreciation.

  “Fuck me that’s good.”

  “I’m glad you approve, sir,” the waiter said with a slight sarcastic edge to his tone as he filled Aiden’s glass and then put the bottle back into the bucket to keep it chilled. He then produced a notebook from the pocket in his waistcoat and enquired, “Are you ready to order?”

  Finn looked up at the waiter and gave a small apologetic smile as Aiden began to scoop the petals up one by one and put them in his water glass. “Yes,” he replied, reaching out and stilling Aiden’s hand. “Aiden? Do you know what you want?”

  “Why Mr Thomas!” Aiden rasped in a high-pitched parody of a vapid maiden. “We haven’t even had the starter yet—kindly control yourself, sir.”

  “To eat, Aiden. To eat.” Finn would have had to have been as deaf as his Grandpa Alan to miss the snort from the waiter—and right now he wished he was. “I’ll have the rib-eye, rare, please and my friend will have…” he stared expectantly at Aiden who was paying no attention whatsoever. After a brief moment’s pause, Finn closed the menu and handed it to the man beside him. “Just bring us two rib-eyes, but you’d better make his medium.”

  “Certainly, sir,” the waiter responded before turning on his heel and marching away.

  Finn risked a quick scan of the restaurant. No one appeared to be staring at them for the moment, which could only be considered a bonus. “Aiden,” he said his name softly, then more firmly when Aiden continued to stare at the way the wine swirled in his glass. “Aiden, are you sure you want to do this tonight? You seem…” bombed, wasted, off your face “distracted.” Good one, Finn.

  “I’m sorry,” Aiden said, reaching across the table and grabbing Finn’s hand. “Is Aiden not paying Finn enough attention?” Finn gasped as sock-covered toes landed on his crotch from beneath the table. “Or is it little Finn who’s feeling left out?”

  “Jesus,” Finn hissed, pushing at Aiden’s foot until he removed it. “Stop that. What the hell has gotten into you?”

  “You, if you play your cards right.” Aiden attempted to reposition his foot and Finn spent a frantic few minutes wrestling with Aiden’s toes as they tried to connect with his sac.

  “Aiden!” Finn said firmly. “If you don’t behave I’ll take you home right now.” He breathed a sigh of relief when Aiden stopped resisting and his foot dropped to the floor. Finn shook his head at the pout on his date’s face as Aiden sank back into his chair.

  “Party pooper.”

  Finn wracked his brain for something to say, deciding very quickly that dessert was definitely off the menu. He wanted to consume their dinner and get out of here as soon as possible. “So, tell me a bit more about yourself,” he said, keeping his tone light. “How did you get into banking?”

  “Well,” Aiden knocked back the rest of his wine and began to pour himself another, slopping the liquid onto the pristine white tablecloth. “I kind of fell into it. The money my parents paid me to get out let me stay at home with Kaylee for a while, but I didn’t want to rely on it. Then I signed on with a couple of agencies one of which got me a job as a cashier. When a position for a trainee investment banker came up, I took a chance and voile, here I am.”

  “Voila,” Finn automatically corrected. “Voile is a type of fabric.”

  “It is?” Aiden frowned for a few moments then the light of realization flooded his gaze and he giggled. “I’m not very good with languages.”

  Finn wasn’t sure he should be asking his next question when Aiden was not a hundred per cent compus mentis, in fact Aiden probably hadn’t even noticed he’d let the comment about his past slip out—but Finn needed to make sure he’d understood. “You said your parents paid you to get out?”

  “Yeah,” Aiden gazed around the room. “Jeez, how long does it take to fry a cow? You know, my grandpa used to rope a cow on Saturday morning and eat it for dinner Saturday night. They’ve only gotta get it outta the freezer!”

  “Aiden, your parents?”

  For a brief moment, Finn saw real pain in the depths of his green eyes. Pain that was quickly chased away with a nonchalant shrug and another slug of wine. “My parents come from old money… real old money. People like them do what their kind has done for generations, if you don’t like it, get rid of it.” Aiden’s tone was flat, almost resigned.

  “And they didn’t like you?”

  “Well they had a long list where I was concerned, so they were kind of spoilt for choice,” Aiden huffed out a laugh. “They didn’t like my gayness, they didn’t like that I got my best friend pregnant and they definitely didn’t like the idea of me raising my chi
ld in their home. Imagine the shame at the country club.”

  “Aiden,” Finn shook his head slowly in disbelief. His own parents’ reaction to his coming out hadn’t exactly resulted in his father slapping him on the back and shoving a load of condoms into his hand, or his mother asking his advice on the new skirt she was thinking of buying; but them tossing him out onto the street had never even occurred to him as a possibility. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Pfft,” Aiden’s response was non-committal. “I had Patti, and I’ve no regrets.”

  “Kaylee’s a great kid.”

  “Yeah, she—food’s here!”

  Finn glanced up at the waiter approaching their table. The man balanced the large tray on his upturned forearm, placed their meals before them one at a time, wished them bon appetite then quickly retreated. “Wow,” Finn said enthusiastically for the first time since they’d arrived. “This looks awesome.” He picked up his knife and fork and carved himself a healthy piece of steak, then pushed it into his mouth. Chris had been right, the steak here was definitely the most tender he’d ever tasted. The meat practically melted on his tongue and the tang of parsley butter tantalized his taste buds. “You have to try—” Finn caught Aiden’s confused gaze. “What is it?”

  “My ears are ringing,” Aiden said in a loud stage whisper, leaning toward Finn.

  “Your ears are—” Finn echoed, shaking his head as the strains of Lady Gaga’s Poker Face floated on the air. “It’s not your ears,” he sighed, nodding at the cell vibrating on the table, “it’s your phone.”

  Aiden jabbed his fork into an asparagus spear and shoved it into his mouth before he picked up the sliver of metal and took several attempts at pressing the correct button to answer it. “I’m fabulous, darling,” he said exuberantly, spraying asparagus as he spoke, much to Finn’s dismay. “Why? No… I don’t want to…. Don’t yell at me.… You can’t ground me, I’m a grown up…. I’m not going to…. No.” Finn had no idea who he was talking to, or what the hell was going on, he only knew Aiden’s bottom lip protruded more and more as the conversation progressed. “Fine,” Aiden spat eventually. “I said fine, didn’t I…? What now… right now…? God you’re so bossy.” Aiden put the cell on the table and then slid it across the cloth to Finn where it chinked noisily against his plate. “She wants to talk to you.”

  Finn stared at the cell and then at Aiden. “What? Who?” Aiden’s attention had returned to his food and he was no longer listening as he tried to cut his steak, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead. Taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to look for Ashton Kutcher, Finn picked up the cell and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Finn? Oh thank god. Finn honey is that you?”

  “Patti?” Finn sounded as confused as he felt. Why the hell was Aiden’s aunt calling him?

  “Yes. I’m so sorry to interrupt, but right about now I’m guessing you’re gonna be glad I did.”

  “Patti, I have no idea what you’re talking—”

  “Aiden’s trashed.”

  “How did you know?” Finn gasped, glancing up at Aiden who was now chewing a huge piece of steak like he was auditioning for cow chewing the cud number one.

  “Look, son. He was a little twitchy waiting for you earlier and I may have suggested he have a little nip of bourbon to calm his nerves,” Patti said quietly, her voice low as though she didn’t want small ears to hear her.

  “A little nip?” Finn repeated. “And exactly how much would you consider a nip, Patti?”

  “I really don’t like your inference…” Patti trailed off and Finn could almost feel her sigh through the airwaves, obviously knowing she’d been caught out. “Okay, okay, it was half a tumbler full. But that’s not the worst of it.”

  “There’s more?” Finn said, desperation making his voice crack on the second word. How could there possibly be more?

  “There’s a little something both Aiden and I forgot. He’s at the end of a course of antibiotics for an ear infection he had last week,” Patti confessed. “He can’t handle his liquor at the best of times and you’re not supposed to drink with these pills. So I’m guessing he’s probably a lot more uninhibited than you’d expected, right?”

  “You could say that,” Finn replied, gazing at Aiden, an almost relieved smile playing around his lips. He’d known there had to be an explanation for Aiden’s behavior—although he didn’t know whether to laugh or slap Aiden upside the head for being so stupid as to drink while he was taking medication. No wonder he was, as his Granny Annie would say, as high as a Georgia pine.

  “I just thought you oughta know before you tried to make your escape through the bathroom window. He’s a good kid. Don’t blame him for being an idiot.”

  “Thanks, Patti. That explains a few things,” Finn said on a chuckle. “I’ll try to get him home in one piece.” He ended the call and slipped the cell into his pocket, fearful Aiden would lose it in his current state. Feeling ridiculously relieved, Finn relaxed for the first time since he’d picked Aiden up, one thought bouncing around his skull—he was nervous about tonight.

  And that’s a good thing why? asked the voice in his head.

  Because nervous means he likes me, doofus. If you’re gonna eavesdrop, at least pay attention.

  “If you take a picture it’ll last longer, honey.”

  Finn blinked, pulled from his internal reverie by Aiden’s gritted question. What now? He half-turned in his seat and followed the direction of Aiden’s challenging gaze, and found himself staring into the disapproving glare of a middle-aged woman seated at the next table. “Aiden, calm down,” he mumbled, reaching out and grasping Aiden’s forearm as he stood up. “What are you doing? Sit down.”

  “No,” Aiden shot back. “She’s been staring at us since we got here.”

  “Everyone’s been staring at us since we got here.” Finn tried to keep his tone even but it was becoming more and more difficult by the second. Although he knew the reason for Aiden’s behavior, knowledge didn’t make said behavior any less humiliating.

  “Oh, I get it,” Aiden squared his shoulders and scanned the restaurant. “Step into the twenty-first century people! Yes we’re two gay men and we’re on a date. Woooooo, fascinating, let’s all stop and look at the fairies. Well take a good look, we may be the first ones you’ve seen—but we won’t be the last!”

  “Aiden!” Finn’s voice rose in his frustration. “For god’s sake control yourself.”

  “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” At the sound of the maitre ‘d’s voice behind him, Finn had the sudden feeling he wasn’t going to be finishing his steak.

  “No problem.” Taking a deep breath, Finn turned his head to meet the austere looking man’s gaze. “My friend’s a little um… over excited.”

  “Over excited,” the maitre ‘d intoned, icicles forming on the words as they left his lips. “If that’s what you young people are calling it now. In my day we tended to go with completely trollied, hammered or sloshed. Perhaps the bill would be in order?” It was a statement, not a suggestion.

  “You’re throwing us out?” Aiden gasped. “For being gay?”

  “Yes,” Finn said to the maitre ‘d, ignoring Aiden’s remark. “The bill would be good, thank you.”

  “You’re thanking him!” Aiden stared at Finn as if he had never seen him before. “I can’t believe you’re taking his side. Good job at being a supportive boyfriend, Mr Thomas. I thought we had something beautiful, something real.” His breath hitched in his throat, much to Finn’s dismay. The evening was becoming even more bizarre. “Obviously I was wrong.”

  “Aiden for pities sake—”

  “And one more thing—meerkats are stupid!”

  Finn watched in utter astonishment as Aiden ran toward the patio doors leading onto the beach and out into the night. “Shit.” Finn fumbled around in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a hundred, more than the cost of the meal but at this point he really didn’t care. He shoved the bill into the maitre ‘d�
�s hand and tossed another sorry over his shoulder on his way out of the restaurant amid a torrent of huffs from the other patrons.

  Finn skidded down the grassy bank to the beach and gripped handfuls of his hair while he scanned the area for signs of Aiden. Where the hell was he? He hadn’t had that much of a head start. In fact considering the amount of alcohol and antibiotics coursing through his veins, Finn had half expected Aiden to pass out the moment the sea breeze hit him—but then why would his luck change now? “Aiden!” Finn cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled his name. “Aiden!” To his left, Finn heard the faint sound of retching coming from the bushes. Heaving a sigh, Finn headed in the direction of the cookie tossing—the sound of which just about summed up the evening.

  Aiden was bent over, his arms wrapped around his torso as he vomited and Finn couldn’t help the wave of sympathy that swept through him. He’d been in that position himself on a few occasions and he didn’t envy him. There wasn’t really any need for words so Finn simply walked up behind Aiden and rubbed his back in small circular motions until Aiden had nothing left but dry heaves.

  “I think the steak was bad,” Aiden mumbled, wiping a shaky hand across his mouth. “I don’t feel good.” He straightened with the help of Finn’s arm around his waist and leaned against Finn’s shoulder.

  “Let’s get you home,” Finn said softly, guiding Aiden back across the sand toward the car.

  “Maybe it was the asparagus,” Aiden moaned, snuggling into Finn’s side as they walked.

  “Yeah,” Finn replied, trying to keep the derision from his tone. “Definitely the asparagus.”

  IV

  Something was trying to tunnel its way out of Aiden’s head through his temples. Either that or something was trying to tunnel its way in—he couldn’t be sure. He moaned low in his throat when he attempted to open his eyes. The pinprick of light burning his retinas and causing him to snap them shut immediately while he slapped a hand to his forehead—which pushed a whimper past his lips. What the hell happened last night? He remembered Finn picking him up… getting into the car and… nope… that was about it.