John Wiltshire - [More Heat Than the Sun 07]

by Enduring Night [MLR MM] (epub)

  Nikolas was about to refute this roundly when he realised there was a lot of evidence to support such a view.

  Squeezy added, “You get all comfortable with him again, and there might be another major fucking wobble.”

  Nikolas felt a chill settling into his sweat-soaked body and tried to repress a shiver.

  Suddenly, Squeezy flung his arm around Nikolas’s shoulder and knuckle-rubbed his hair. It was so unexpected that Nikolas didn’t resist quickly enough, and before he could think to do so, he was released with a light punch. “Just as well you’ve got all that new fucking core strength then, isn’t it, mate?”

  Nikolas watched Squeezy disappearing down the other side of the rocks.

  He thought back to the gym that morning. Standing on a ball, he had executed a perfect one-leg squat. He was so strong now, he could compensate for the wobble.

  The swaying had given him the additional strength he’d been unable to achieve on the flat training floor. Now his muscles responded like those of a fine stallion to the slightest instability of the terrain.

  He began to laugh and lifted his face to the vast, moorland sky. “Fuck you.”

  He said it quietly but with heartfelt glee.

  Instability and strength. They were perfectly matched still.

  He caught up to Squeezy at the next tor, although he suspected the man must have slowed for him. To punish him for this, the head rubbing, and just about everything else of the last few weeks, but mainly for being a lot cleverer than Nikolas had ever allowed him to be, he ran straight into Squeezy and took him down to the springy grass, as he’d promised he would one day.

  It would have been an interesting contest, and Nikolas could tell they were both more than willing to get into it—go the distance—when with a curse in Russian he’d been learning and practising that morning, Squeezy grunted, “What’s that?” staring at Nikolas’s shorts. Nikolas was contemplating telling him exactly what it was when he realised his phone was buzzing.

  It was a text from Peyton. “What does this mean?” He showed it to Squeezy. Squeezy frowned deeply.

  “I think it means we better get the fuck home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Peyton’s text had just said, late late show.

  When they arrived back at the glass house, Squeezy went to the TV room and turned the big flat screen on. Consulting his phone, he said, “Peyton’s streaming something to us. He caught it live a few hours ago and recorded it.”

  “He’s doing what to who? What are you talking about?”

  Squeezy just gave him a patronising eye roll and pointed to the couch. He left and reappeared a moment later with two towels and threw one to Nikolas. He sat alongside him and fiddled with the remotes.

  “What is this? What’s going on?”

  “I’m guessing it’s that trust issue you just mentioned.”

  The picture came on.

  It appeared to be a studio and a flabby man with stubble was greeting an audience, as if he was slightly surprised and delighted that they’d actually shown up. He had a London accent, which he seemed at some pains to mitigate.

  After a few jokes and random asides, which Nikolas didn’t understand, the man said, “So, first week on the job. What did they say to me? James, get a bloody—well, they didn’t say bloody, obviously—get an A-lister! Get Hanks. Get Washington. Get Harrison. Yeah, well, that was a total plane crash of an idea.” Laughter ensued although it seemed slightly nervous, and the chubby, pale man’s eyes flickered as if he was contemplating bolting. “So, I thought, who do I want on this stage here with me tonight? And then I answered myself, because no one else can understand me apparently…I said, I’ll get another Brit! I’ll get someone even more reluctant to do stardom than me! Folks, please welcome Peter Cameron and…Ben Rider!”

  At exactly the same time, the audience of two in England hissed, “What the fuck?”

  Ben strode onto the stage. He was wearing casual jeans, slung low, with a white shirt. Nikolas had bought both items for Ben, because he’d seen them in a magazine on a model and had warmed to the knowledge that he could have it all—model-beautiful man dressed in those clothes. And then not wearing them, which had also occurred to him.

  It was a little surreal watching someone you’d dressed strutting across a stage thousands of miles away. Nikolas would have risen from the couch and…well, he wasn’t sure whether he’d have fetched a drink and returned, or left for good, because his heart was strong, but it wasn’t invincible, and this, he felt, might kill him…but he didn’t do either because the thought came to him that this outfit, worn to cross that stage, had been given some consideration. It wasn’t a random selection by any means.

  Ben looked tense, which seemed understandable, given the rapturous reception he received from the studio fans, which would have possibly made even God blush had he walked into the room. He shook hands with the chubby man, and then took one of the chairs, closely followed by Peter Cameron, who embraced the host as if they were family and took the chair next to Ben.

  “So, Peter, how does it feel to have every single member of the audience screaming for you?”

  Peter and Ben both dutifully acknowledged the small joke, and the man called James continued, “Ben Rider, or should I say Oliver Whitestone?” This also got a fantastic reception from the audience and Ben smiled.

  Nikolas realised he’d stopped breathing, so he forced himself to sit back on the couch and relax every muscle that had cramped up. Squeezy seemed equally bemused and fascinated, he kept checking the photo of Ben on the bookshelves as if he couldn’t quite believe that he knew someone on the Late Late Show.

  “So, Ben, welcome. Tell us about this new project. And, most importantly, does it involve Lycra shorts?” He turned to his audience in the studio and mocked, “Ack, it’s what you wanted to know, don’t give me that.”

  Ben glanced at the people in the tiered seats, too. “In minus forty, I’m not sure anyone would want to see me in Lycra…or be able to…” It was just the right thing to say. It was the masterful performance of a self-deprecating, gorgeous Englishman. The audience ate it up.

  The host was nodding. “Svalbard, indeed. Okay, tell us all where that is.”

  Peter came in at this point. “It’s a beautiful island north of Norway, right in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. It’s the furthest north populated place in the world.”

  “And that’s where this incredible story took place. Folks, we’re talking here about,” and James held up the book, Enduring Night, for the camera to get a close up of the cover, “this book. It’s the fascinating story of a Danish explorer who went insane.”

  Peter added, “I sent Ben the book some time ago now. I didn’t have a firm idea for a movie, but I wanted him to read it, see if it spoke to him as it had to me. Some of the themes I felt were the same as the ones we worked on in Finding Peace. It just kinda resonated with me. I guess it did to Ben as well, because he turned up this week kinda fired up to do it.”

  Ben was studying his nails and only nodded to this.

  “But we want to take a slightly different angle in the movie than just exploring Anders Dahl’s story. Ben, it was your idea, you tell it.”

  Ben lifted his gaze and turned back to the host. “I thought there was another story to tell here, so I flew over and put my idea to Peter. It seemed to me that a place could hold a memory of terrible events that have happened there. That possibly Anders Dahl is still there somehow, affecting what is happening now.”

  “Okay, now am I right in thinking that this is the place where the Mattie Mayberry defence happened?”

  Peter made a small, excited gesture with his hand. “Exactly, although obviously we can’t discuss that here tonight for legal reasons.”

  Ben interjected, “This is her story, yes, but it’s more than that. It’s a universal story—it’s my story, too.”

  Nikolas leant forward, frowning.

  “I was there recently—in Jasper Bay—and I exper
ienced some of the things Anders Dahl went through.”

  “Not the cannibalism I hope?”

  Ben smiled wanly. “I think that was symptomatic of the isolation for Anders. He didn’t see it as cannibalism at all. He recalled walking and talking with people who’d been dead for weeks. I thought I was seeing ghosts, hearing voices. I became…pretty messed up.”

  “So, in a way, you’re going to play yourself in this movie?”

  Ben shrugged. “Well, I can’t act, so I’ve been told, so that might be a blessing for everyone.”

  Peter gave him a mock punch, and the audience went wild. Again.

  “Peter, you had a great collaboration on Finding Peace—loved that movie, by the way. How did you guys meet? Ben, you were in the army, is that right?”

  “I was. But we actually met in Scotland—” The audience began to laugh and cheer when James produced a flag of St Andrews from under the desk and began to wave it. Ben waited politely until the focus was back on him and then added, “Our daughters go to the same school.” There was some nervous giggling from the audience and the host’s brows rose.

  “Daughter? Did we know about Ben’s daughter, folks? We did not.”

  Ben shrugged. “I have two daughters and a son.”

  “Fuck me.” Nikolas thought this was on the show until he realised Squeezy had murmured it just behind him. He agreed. Fuck me.

  “Hey, good for you! Kids are just great, aren’t they? My little boy just turned four and I have a four-month-old daughter! So, Ben, have you got marriage plans anytime soon, because my wife told me to ask you and I’m thinking you can break all the hearts now and give this lot time to get over it.” The people in the studio responded dutifully, and one woman’s voice cried out, “I’ll marry you, Ben!” which only produced more merriment.

  Ben nodded, playing up to the audience for a moment, then he put his hands on his thighs, his fists bunched until white knuckles showed, and announced steadily, “Well, I’m gay, James, so we do things a little bit…differently.”

  That hung out there for so long even the host began to look dismayed, until the fans broke into riotous applause and whistling.

  James beamed as if he’d made the joke himself and repeated, “Oh, yeah, differently.” Then he sobered. “So, gay, is this a new departure for you, Ben, because you were—?”

  “Nope. Always been gay. Been with my partner now for over a decade.”

  Nikolas felt a hand on his thigh, and he glanced down. Squeezy just stared at him and gave his leg a pat. “You okay?”

  Nikolas couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “So, do we get to meet this bloke? Do we have a picture? We wanna see a photo of the chap who gets Ben Rider, yeah?”

  Ben chuckled. “I thought you might.” All eyes swivelled to the screen behind the dais—and there he was.

  Nikolas took a sharp intake of breath.

  Squeezy jerked forward. “Who the fuck is—is that you? Is that a fucking…polar bear? Fuck me.”

  It was the picture Ben had snapped of Nikolas on the roof of the Hagglund, fighting the bear. Even his closest friends wouldn’t have recognised him.

  The audience gave a collective gasp, and Peter murmured with amusement, “We’re putting that scene in the movie by the way.”

  “Is that a real bear?” James couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the image.

  Ben nodded. “But my partner is the other one. The guy bleeding.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He will be. He lost a lot more than a little blood out there on the ice. We got badly turned around. I lost my sense of direction. Have you ever followed a sat nav, James?”

  The host rolled his eyes. “My wife’s banned me from using it. We ended up in a field.”

  “Exactly. I was focused on the far distance, the place I wanted us to get to together—you know? You have reached your destination…But then I realised it wasn’t the end of all things I should be focused on but the journey. That, in the end, it’s all we’ve got—the journey through life together. I decided to turn the GPS off and follow my heart. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Well, folks, you heard it first on this show—Ben Rider is officially—”

  “Actually, it’s Ben Rider-Mikkelsen. And can I say a quick hello to everyone back home?”

  James gestured expansively. “Sure thing. I think I will, too,” and he proceeded to gurn at the camera and said in quick English, “Hi, Mum, hi, Dad. It’s me. No, I still haven’t got a real job yet. Thanks for asking.”

  Over the audience’s delight, Ben turned to the camera and gave a small wave and mouthed, “Jeg elsker dig.”

  “So, Peter, when are we likely to see the movie out? Do you have a working title?”

  “Yes, we’re planning to start shooting this fall when the temperatures are more bearable on the island. We’ll do interiors mostly then return in the winter for the polar night exteriors. We’re gonna stick with what works for a title. Enduring Night.”

  “Enduring Night coming to cinemas—can I say cinemas?—near you soon! Ben, what are your plans now? Home to England? Say hello to fish and chips for me if you are.”

  “Yes. I’m heading straight home. I’ve been away since I went to Svalbard. They’ve forgotten who I am. I’ve given them reason to forget who I am.”

  “Well, we’ll take a break there and be right back with the—”

  The video stopped streaming. Squeezy’s phone buzzed and clearly in something of a daze, he pulled it out and answered, “Yeah. We got it. Thanks, big guy. Yeah. I guess you’d better do that…”

  Nikolas couldn’t have fashioned a question if he’d tried. Squeezy took pity on him, and as he was stowing the phone away muttered, “Peyton said he’s going to update benrider.com…with all the new…bloody hell.”

  “That seems…Good.”

  At the same time, they leant back on the sofa.

  “So…what were you saying about not trusting Diesel?”

  Nikolas felt a smile forming and rose to his feet with a wince. He ached everywhere. Except in the place that counted the most.

  It was amazing how quickly a broken heart could be healed.

  §§§

  Ben arrived home a week later. In the end, he’d apparently decided to stay on with Peter, attending creative meetings, and making plans for the movie.

  Nikolas suspected Ben was finding the prospect of their meeting…difficult. He sure as hell was, so he didn’t blame Ben all that much.

  Things had changed a bit at home in that week, too. Squeezy had gone back to London. He claimed he’d missed his opportunity to shag Nikolas so he was going to treat Tim instead. He was gone, but there was someone new in the house…something, anyway.

  Nikolas had followed through with his plans to help Radulf. He’d studied and pondered and made calls and spent money. It’s what he did, and despite Squeezy’s contention that he was strong enough now to take the wobble and instability of life, that he couldn’t control everything and had no need to, he disagreed. He could try, anyway.

  He heard Ben’s Ducati pull up on the gravel as he was watching this new acquisition. Ben had, of course, immediately bought his bike back from his friend, which Nikolas suspected had been their plot, hatched behind his back, all along.

  He strode into the house as if he owned it, which, Nikolas had to allow, was a good plan—better than slinking home, tail between your legs.

  And didn’t that get right to the heart of the change to their household?

  Ben came to a halt, and before he’d even greeted Nikolas spluttered, “What the heck is that?”

  “It’s a seeing-eye dog.”

  “A what?”

  “He’s Radulf’s new seeing-eye dog.”

  “But…” The puppy came over to Ben, a boneless shuddering of obsequious fur. Ben laughed and squatted down to play with it. “This is just one of Philipa’s pack…you’re having me on.”

  “Does it look like a royal dog?”


  “Well, no…it looks like a feral thing you found in the gutter.”

  Nikolas clicked his fingers, and the puppy came to him. He did the same for Radulf, and then with a short lead, given their relative heights, clipped them together. The puppy immediately headed for the door, Radulf in tow, and they went out into the sunshine together.

  “Fuck me.”

  Nikolas refrained from his usual reply to such things from Ben. He wasn’t at all sure where they were going to go with that just yet.

  “Is it safe?”

  “Radulf appears to think so. It may look like a feral, wild thing, but Radulf says he’ll cope either way. I think he’s enjoying the challenge.”

  Ben turned slowly and gazed at Nikolas, his green eyes calm and thoughtful. He nodded. “But wouldn’t Radulf be better as he was? Doing what he’s comfortable with?”

  Nikolas shrugged. “Radulf is blind, but I think he may have decided that it’s entirely safe for him to just shut his eyes for once and tag along for the ride.”

  “Well matched then.”

  “Yes, I would say so. I think I’ve always said so.” Nikolas felt his self-control slipping away, which was unusual and intolerable. He suddenly remembered something he had to do somewhere, anything or anywhere, basically, where he could get away from what he might say or do. Get away from Ben.

  He found himself on the couch in the TV room. It wasn’t the best of places to escape from the import of their relationship. They’d spent a significant amount of time on that sofa, pretending to watch movies.

  And then not pretending anything at all.

  Ben sat down alongside him and his confidence didn’t appear to waver. Nikolas wondered if they’d been in the same war and concluded that possibly they had not.

  “So, did you see it?” Ben made a small gesture toward the television screen.

  “Oh, yes.” In another situation, another conversation, he might have made a joke about finally discovering that Ben was gay, or perhaps being told that he was a father, but this wasn’t that other situation or a different conversation. It was what it was and everything, the entire future he’d planned and created for them together, hung on what they said to each other now.