Escaping from Him

by Liam Livings

  At that moment I smiled back and allowed myself to get lost in his bright green eyes. I looked down and his hand was still on top of mine, a light dusting of freckles and light ginger hair on the back of his porcelain white hand. "I'm sure we can do better than this. And I can promise you we offer a professional service. You pay us, we'll do the photos. No payment in kind."

  Later that afternoon, Callum returned with some clothing options and freshly washed hair - I noticed a new sheen it hadn't had that morning.

  Ewan took some amazing photos of him, perfect head shots from various angles, showing different parts of his face in the light and dark. I held lights, moved backgrounds, changed colour gels on the lights, every time catching a glimpse of his skin, exposed from the array of T shirts and shirts he changed into. Ewan put the camera down, checked the back for the last photo. "That's about it. Unless you want any extra ones, you know, you sitting there in just your underwear, some with your T-shirt off?" He winked very obviously, flashing a smile at the same time.

  Callum folded his arms across his chest then his eyes widened. He looked at me behind Ewan, crouching next to a bright light. "I knew it was too good to be true. I just knew it. Luring me in here … "

  I said, "He is joking. You do know that? That's what the wink meant. Although we have been asked to do some glamour photos for various people, men and women, and others. We don't ask what they want the photos for. We just take them." I looked at Ewan. "Do you remember the woman who walked into the studio with nothing on, stood naked in the middle of the studio, holding her breasts, and asked where we wanted her?"

  "Aye, it was a cold morning that day. I remember that well." Ewan gazed into the distance. "A very cold morning."

  "Oh." Callum replied, unfolding his arms and holding them behind his back.

  Ewan looked at us both, coughed, then said, “I'll leave you lads to it." He left, taking his camera, still hung round his neck. This was normally my cue to turn the lights off, remove the coloured gels, pack away the backing, and set it up for the next client, after checking the schedule on the computer. But this time I didn't do any of that. This time I just stood behind the light, staring at the beautiful man in front of me, sat on a white wooden box, leaning backwards on his arms, his legs open and stretched out in front of the box. His white T-shirt riding up slightly to reveal a tiny wisp of ginger hair and his belly button.

  "Had a good look eh?" he said, leaning back further, revealing a bit more of his stomach.

  "Don't know what you're talking about." My eyes darted between his stomach and his bright green eyes.

  "You gonna come over, or do I have to actually ask you?"

  I walked to him and stood up against the white wooden block. Now I had a much better view.

  "I've seen you."

  "I know, I'm standing in front of you." I smiled, and worried he was a cute, clever psychopath. That's what I was getting into now. A psychopath. I allowed that to wash around my mind for a moment.

  "Not now, at the club. I've seen you at Truvy Jones."

  "You go there?"

  He nodded. "Why the surprise? Just because a man doesn't put glitter in his hair and make-up on his face, doesn't mean, well it doesn't mean what you thought it meant."

  "So you've seen Gav then?"

  He nodded. "And all the others. The older guy you're always out with. He's your boyfriend isn't he?"

  "Charlie?"

  "Is that his name?"

  "He's not my boyfriend. Not that he hasn't tried mind you. No, he's more like my friendly, helpful, sometimes inappropriate, but always well meaning, uncle. I'm done with older men. No more age gaps of twenty years. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt." Shit, that was way too much. "So why didn't you come over, talk to me?"

  "I'm shy. And you were with your friends, and your possible boyfriend, there was no breaking through that. They all surrounded you, like a protective ring."

  I sniggered.

  He sniggered.

  We let the sniggering hang in the air for a moment. It was Callum who spoke next: "That Gavin, he's not your boyfriend is he?"

  "No. Do I have to do you a drawing? I'm not seeing anyone. They're family - all of them."

  "Just wanted to establish the situation. 'cause I've been the third wheel to a few relationships, without knowing at first, and it doesn't end well. I'm not really the 'other man' type."

  I shrugged, keen not to appear too eager.

  "Well, I'm not. Thanks for the photos, by the way. They'll be great in my portfolio. You never know you might be seeing me on the TV soon."

  "Yeah."

  "We could go back to the cabaret place, see some more. That's if you want. I'm not so into it. Well, it's okay I suppose. You like it don't you?"

  "Did you see me at The Birdcage too?"

  He nodded. "You were there all afternoon, with the older guy … "

  "Charlie. Yeah. I was. And you didn't come over and talk to me?"

  He looked away and shrugged."Why would I, you were with your boyfriend for all I knew, weren't you?"

  I heard some noise from the storeroom and Ewan shouted, "Is it set up for the next appointment? They wanted red gels, and the black velvet background. Christ only knows what for, but that's what they said."

  I looked to the store room door. "Nearly done." I looked at Callum. "We could, you know, if you want, only if you want. Go for a drink. Just a coffee, or a tea, do you like tea? Just to you know, talk, like this. But only if you want."

  "Aye, I'd like that. You'll have to be in touch about the photos, so call me." He stood, brushing my arm, squeezing it as he passed.

  "What about your number, how will I?"

  "It's on the computer, I gave it to you before the shoot." He closed the door behind him.

  I rushed to the desk and checked the details. All his details were there, for me to use. I stared at the screen at the row of numbers next to his name.

  Ewan walked into the studio from the store room. "You lads done here? Thought I'd give you a bit of private time, you know."

  "It was all above board. Perfectly above board." Unfortunately.

  "Come on, get that velvet out, they're due in five minutes."

  Part Two

  Chapter 10

  Spring

  I sat on my futon in the corner of my messy room, clothes from both of us strewn in piles over the blue carpet. It was fortunate as they covered up some of the more mysterious stains the carpet had acquired from previous tenants. The window was ajar and a cool breeze filled the room, carrying with it the tweeting of birds and the smell of people mowing their lawns and doing whatever else it is they do when gardening.

  I looked at the light wooden chest of drawers I'd picked and he'd made up for me. The bottom drawer was open two inches, showing some of his clothes he liked to keep here. I smiled as I remembered the conversation about whether it should be the top drawer or the bottom drawer, and how he'd said it was a shame there wasn't a versatile drawer.

  Next to my shelf with my toiletries was another toothbrush, leaning against mine in a glass that could have done with a good wash. I put my hands above my head and felt something along the back edge of the futon. It was a pair of underpants. Mine? His? Who knew any more? Thrown there from the night before when he'd arrived back from another day at drama college, full of stories about other students. I'd told him about the studio and how Ewan had let me have my own clients, so we were thinking about employing a new studio manager in the future. I remembered my conversation with Lena about nepotism, and her saying they didn't have a word for that in Sweden, but they did have about fifteen words for sadness, if that was anything to go by.

  I noticed a mark on the carpet and remembered the fun we'd had together there, on that spot, after one of our 'how was your day' conversations.

  My phone beeped; it was him. I grabbed my car keys and a copy of the Highway Code to add in some extra questions during the tutorial, and left.

  He'd had a few proper lessons a
nd said he couldn't afford them on what he was earning - which most of the time, was not very much, except the odd job in an advert or some little voice-over bits and pieces. So I'd said I could teach him to drive. It had just come out of my mouth before I even thought about it.

  Afterwards, I remembered Chris and me in the car together, and wondered if I'd just made an epic relationship fail.

  But then I remembered he was nothing like Chris. Nothing like him at all.

  I remembered the six weeks, not long after we'd met, between homes when Callum had stayed at mine before he'd sorted out his own flat, and because we were both so skint how we'd just thrown loose change into a bucket on the floor for food and other luxuries like bus tickets. And how, during that time, I couldn't remember feeling happier, even on the fifth night of eating beans on toast, or sometimes just toast, because being with him made me smile. Once I hid in the kitchen when he came home, and when he'd discovered me, under the table, he'd told me I was a wally and that he loved me. He said those words, just there and then. I love you, under the table, in a shared student house in Glasgow, on the dirty floor, with bits of other people's cereal and mud from shoes. That had meant more than all the 'I love you's' Chris had said the whole time we were together.

  So when Callum had got some work, and moved out to his own flat, he suggested learning to drive, so he could drive to auditions in other cities without it taking all day.

  Now, I shut the door and met him on the pavement outside the house, leaning against my little car: a pink twelve year old Ford Ka with eyelashes on the headlights and a runs on fairy dust sticker in the back window. It was all I could afford, had a year's MOT saying it was safe and because it had been for sale for a few weeks, the dad of the girl who was selling it, knocked one hundred quid off. "It's for you?" he'd asked, gesturing to the bright pink paintwork with small patches of bubbling rust in some corners.

  "Yep, all for me." I had handed him my money and driving it home, realised how much I loved it for exactly what it wasn't. It wasn't expensive monthly finance payments, it wasn't brand new, it wasn't the latest fashion accessory. In fact it was quite naff and old-hat, a bit too gay really, but it was mine, all mine and I didn't mind if it was too gay; after all I was gay. Chris would have hated it, especially the zebra print fluffy seat covers and steering wheel cover they'd thrown in. They had been the deciding factor for me buying it. Gavin loved it and jumped up and down the first time I pulled up to his and Big Gav's florist, and it was then I knew I'd made the right decision to buy it.

  Now, the sun shone through Callum's ginger hair and he squinted, hiding his oh-so-bright green eyes. His teeth showed with a wide grin, which I knew meant one of a few things: he'd got an acting job; he had an audition; or he had a horny itch only I could scratch.

  He hugged me and kissed my lips. "You sure about this? Your pride and joy, your little car. Not worried I'll crash it?"

  "Nope. It was only five hundred quid. It's only a thing, a thing to be used. Besides, if you do, you can pay me back when you get an acting job in the next big Hollywood blockbuster. I'll come home from work and find a new car with a big bow tied around it, like on the films." I paused as he stared at me, puzzled. "Or you can buy me another cheap runaround just like this one. I'd be just as happy, honest."

  "Sure?"

  "Sure as I'll ever be. What's this audition we're driving to now?"

  "Some drama set in Glasgow in the nineties, I'm a struggling student, trying to find his way in the world."

  "Did you show them your photos with the curtains and dungarees? That would have been perfect. They could be a time capsule, those photos. You should bury them in the garden, or send them into space, or something." I smirked.

  "They're long gone, and you know so." He held out his hand.

  I handed him the keys and he got in behind the wheel. I sat in the passenger seat, buckled up and told him to start her up.

  As he put my little pink car into first gear, he rested his hand on my right leg and looked at me, smiling. "Okay?"

  I nodded quickly, keen not to be overwhelmed by the moment. Keen not to let him really see how significant all this was. "Let's go."

  The car started to move, without stalling. It slowed down and I looked at him. He was adjusting the fan and turning the air conditioning off. The car sped up again and I wound the window down and felt the cool air on my face.

  Chapter 11

  Lena wanted to know when she could ask Ewan about the vacant studio manager job.

  As we got ready for a night at The Birdcage with family, I explained to Lena that it was a small business, and it was an idea but nothing firm at the moment.

  "You will ask him the next time you see him. It will be fine. I know it." Lena doused her six inch high quiff with more hairspray as she stood in front of the mirror.

  "I don't think it'll be that simple."

  "I cannot afford these train tickets all the times to come to see you. For this money I can fly home to Sweden." She left the room and reappeared holding up a flashy silver boob tube she planned to wear as a dress with thigh high silver boots.

  "We will take it in turns. I know I've not been back to London to see you, but you know why."

  She left the room and reappeared with a pair of bright glossy red high heeled boots. "I have not seen him. I know you are thinking this. I have passed the flat, but I have not seen him."

  "What about his car, is it parked there?" For some inexplicable reason, I wanted to know if he still lived in that little flat. Knowing that either way, would somehow make it less scary to go back to London.

  "I have told you about these cars. I do not know which one is his. These cars, they all look the same. Four wheels, doors, and a roof. What else is there for these car things?" She waved the shoes about. "These okay? Or the silver ones?"

  I knew I had to face London again, and Lena's still living there was as good an excuse as I really needed. “Next month, I'll come to yours. We just need to keep away from the flat. The red ones."

  She was putting on the shoes now, balancing against my bed with one hand. "What do you think he will do to you? You did not steal anything. His little car is now fixed, is it not? You sent him the money?"

  I nodded. I had indeed sent him the money. It was, as Callum had said, "Money well spent - worth every penny to have a clear conscience." So for a few months, I had continued to live on beans on toast from change in the bucket still left after Callum moved out of my flat. That, and the kindness of family who all now knew the story if not the name of the ex, and were all happy to take bags of food they didn't want from theirs.

  "I'm a one man charity. I can't take it," I had said every time.

  Gavin had pushed past me with a bag of food and said, "Fuck off. It's some tins of soup, some lav paper and bread. It's hardly breaking the bank at Monte fucking Carlo. When you're straight again, drinks are on you. Now get that kettle on." And Big Gav had carried another bag of food and nodded solemnly, telling me not to argue 'cause it wasn't worth the hassle with Gavin.

  Charlie had insisted on taking me out for dinner a few times. "I like the thin look, but you're starting to look like a walking skeleton." He had poked my ribs. "Have a good feed up on me. Help me spend my bonus, won't you, please? "

  It had felt so like me and Chris, especially with Charlie, and I'd resisted at first, telling Charlie I was fine. Only when I noticed my jeans falling off me, and Charlie's comment about me having no arse left, and what a shame it was to have lost that arse from the gay community, did I acquiesce and let him buy me dinner a few times.

  Now, Lena stood before me adjusting her quiff and balancing on one high heel. "Who is this we see tonight?"

  "Only family. You'll know them all." I smiled at the memory of her meeting them the first time.

  "And I keep in touch with them since then. Since a few months we have been friends on Facebook. Gavin, he likes to poke me all the time. Is this still a thing on Facebook - poking people?"

 
"Now that, I have no idea. Why don't you ask him later tonight?"

  "There is another person you say you want me to meet?"

  I nodded, smiling to myself.

  "And who is this, is this person family, or something else?" Her eyes twinkled.

  "Something else. I want to make sure he's up to the Lena quality standard."

  "I will tell you if he does not. You know this is true."

  "Oh yes. I know this is true."

  My stomach full of butterflies, we arrived at the entrance of The Birdcage and were met by a very friendly Devine, dressed as Alice in Wonderland - long blonde wig with a black Alice band, blue dress and a white apron.

  She kissed both my cheeks and then Lena's. "Just chuck a quid in the bucket for charity, you're on the guest list. Charlie's up the front. He's been here for ages."

  I had deliberately kept Callum quiet from family, as I knew how intimidating it could be to meet a whole group of friends at the early stages of a relationship. I still stung from meeting Chris's friends a few days in, and their comments about how I was young enough to be his son, and did I know he used to be married. I knew family weren't much like Chris's friends, but the situation was still one I wanted to postpone until Callum and I were at a more stable stage of things. Until we weren't just seeing each other, but were actually going out together, had both said the 'b' and the 'l' words: boyfriend and love. I also hadn't wanted to jinx the whole thing, as I'd seen happen plenty of times with other members of family who'd brought their latest beau to us on the second date, having bored all of us endlessly about how perfect the new squeeze was, only to never see him again. Nope, I wanted to keep Callum to myself for as long as possible. It was annoying enough explaining him to my flatmates, but they weren't friends, just filler really, so that was a quick and simple conversation. With family, they wouldn't have put up with any short explanations; they'd have all wanted a blow by blow. So all or nothing, I'd gone for nothing. Only now I couldn't continue keeping him from family.