The Guardian Angel

by Liam Livings

  They both mumbled yes, so I left the bed and walked to the kitchen for some bottled water from the fridge. I stood with the fridge door open, debating if fizzy would be better than still.

  He was right to tell me to trust him. It is fun. It’s a good laugh. I’m enjoying myself. Once I’d started to relax, I had enjoyed myself.

  I grabbed three bottles from the fridge, opened one, and took a long sip, leaning on the work surface to get my breath. I looked at the clock—we’d been at it for almost an hour. No wonder I ached. No wonder I was out of breath and bit sore. Finish up soon, and he can go, and it’ll be back to us two.

  I walked into the bedroom and dropped the bottles of water.

  I couldn’t believe what I saw. Bobby was lying on his back while Alex fucking Clements rode him like some demented cowboy on a horse. I caught Alex’s eye as he saw me at the door. “But we said….” I shouted, the rest of the words refusing to leave my mouth.

  Alex continued to writhe and buck around, enjoying my boyfriend inside him.

  “Bobby, what are you doing? We talked about this,” I shouted, staring at Bobby as his eyes opened. His arms were behind his head.

  Bobby said, “I am wearing one.”

  “I should fucking well hope so. Who knows where he’s been. It’s not what we talked about—the rules.”

  Alex continued to ride my boyfriend, his eyes shut as he moved around on Bobby’s cock.

  I shouted, “Fuck’s sake, are you going to stop? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  Bobby pushed Alex off him and started to get off the bed.

  I left the room and ran to the bathroom, where I was sick into the toilet. My stomach ached; my head ached. My whole body ached.

  I was aware of some movement in the bedroom, and then I felt Bobby standing behind me, wrapped in a towel. He put his arms around me, stroking my back as I retched again into the toilet.

  I woke on the sofa. I vaguely remembered refusing to go into the bedroom until the sheets were changed. Bobby stood over me, holding a pint of water and some paracetamol. “Take these. It’ll help the headache.”

  “He gone?”

  Bobby nodded.

  I lay on the sofa, and he sat next to me, stroking my hair. He told me he loved me; he told me it didn’t mean anything, just like all the lovers he’d had before me. He told me he hadn’t planned it, and that it had just happened. “One minute you were there, and the next he was on me, having rolled a condom on.”

  “Doesn’t hang about, does he, this Alex?”

  Bobby told me it was an accident. He told me to remember all the meaningless fucks I’d had with all the meaningless lovers before him—it was just like that.

  I’d had a lot of meaningless lovers and an awful lot of meaningless fucks before Bobby. And really, when you came down to it, it was just a bit of his body in another bit of Alex’s body.

  During all begging for forgiveness and the pleas of it being meaningless, all I could think about was that the one thing I’d said in the rules of play had been ignored. All I could think about was the vision of Bobby, my boyfriend, fucking that Alex fucking Clements in our bed, while I got them a bottle of water from my fridge.

  What a fucking idiot I am. How have I become this person? I don’t remember the day, the week, the month, or the decision where I became this person, this doormat, but all I can remember was saying I’d trust the person I loved, with all my heart.

  Sky’s face appeared in my bathwater, wobbling slightly with the ripples. He said, “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault that I can’t see you. This isn’t really allowed.”

  “What’s not allowed?”

  “Sorry it’s all gone so wrong. All I wanted was to protect you and look after you, but I’ve been told I’ve overstepped.”

  “Overstepped what? Wait, I want you to explain.”

  But Sky didn’t stop talking. He continued, ignoring me completely. “…and so I’ve got to use this way to get in touch with you.”

  I shouted his name, but he continued talking. It was like some sort of recording.

  “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault I can’t see you. This isn’t really allowed. Sorry it’s all gone so wrong, all I wanted was to protect…”

  He continued on a loop twice more, and then he disappeared.

  Chapter 24

  I left a job interview, feeling on such a high, I had to call Bobby. “I think they liked me. They laughed at some of the things I said. So that’s good, right?”

  “Could be. Could be.”

  It was a job at another bank in the City of London. This time they had explained their graduate trainee scheme was closed, but they had some junior positions I might be interested in that could lead to more senior positions in time.

  Behind all the arse covering, I realised it was a good offer. So I jumped at an interview and genned up on the bank, its work, and the usual questions I thought they’d ask.

  After asking me where I saw myself in five years and what experience I had with Wealth Management and working with high-net-worth clients, they threw me a curve ball. The manager, John, removed his small glasses, pinched his nose, ran his hand through his spiky ginger hair, and said, “What’s your favourite album, Richard?”

  When I rang Bobby later, he said, “What? You can’t ask people that sort of thing. That’s illegal, isn’t it? Discrimination or something? I hope you told them what you thought.”

  “He didn’t ask me if I was going to have any children. He didn’t ask me if I was gay. So he didn’t break any laws. I thought, do I say what I think he wants me to say, or do I say what I really think?”

  “So what did you say? Come on, I’m dying here,” Bobby replied. “You didn’t say some awful Dad Rock album your dad got you into, did you? Please don’t say you said Yes or Bread or Kiss.”

  “I said Architecture and Morality by OMD.”

  “Do you even have that album? I’ve never seen it.”

  “I don’t have the record anymore, and this manager wasn’t too happy about that, but I do have the music. It’s on my phone and laptop. Most of the songs are in more than one of my playlists. But sometimes, when I’m sat at home, alone, in the depths of despair about looking for jobs and being on my own, I put it on, and I suddenly feel really intellectual. Like I’m studying a degree in architecture and morality.”

  “And you told him all this?”

  “Every word.” I paused, smiling to myself. “And he shook my hand, told me it was his favourite of their albums—“much better than all their commercial, poppy stuff”—and he offered me the job, there and then.”

  “He did what? You’ve got a job? Is that what you’ve just told me, amid that big long sidetrack story?”

  “Actually, it was integral to the story. The manager, John, said he’d made his mind up to offer me the job already, but that if I’d given an awful album—like something by S Club 7 or Steps, he’d have had to think about it and would have called me the next day about the job. But because what I said was so cool, he did it there and then. Result, eh?”

  “Let’s go out to celebrate. I’ll book a table.”

  “I’ve not got the offer in writing yet. Let’s not jump the gun.” I thought about Kylie, filing her nails on her little cloud above me.

  “Okay, I’ll bring something back on my way home. You just spend the rest of the day relaxing and basking in your amazingness. I’ll get some chocs too.”

  “And all because the man loves Milk Tray.” I camped up the ad voice.

  There was silence on the phone. Bobby said, “You know that night?”

  “The night?” The Night with Alex.

  “Yep.”

  “I am aware of its existence, yes. What about it?”

  “You know it wasn’t my fault. You know I’m sorry, though, don’t you?” He paused, waiting for me to reply. “Did you enjoy yourself? Did you have fun?”

  I thought about it for a minute, trying to separate the feelings before I’d walked in on him and Alex
, and the feelings as I saw them together. Some memories from earlier that night resurfaced from my mind. “Yeah, I think I did. Different, interesting. Fun.”

  “It did look like you were enjoying yourself. I mean, from where I was, you weren’t exactly faking things.”

  “Why?”

  “I just wondered, do you want to do it again? Like, as a celebration or something? Not with Alex again, obviously.” He weakly raised the intonation at the end of the sentence as if he was questioning whether it was a good way to celebrate my new job.

  “If we do, I don’t want it to be a big thing like last time. It should just happen, like when we have sex, just us two. We don’t set it all up with moonlight and roses, lit candles, and all that guff. It’s just us. Well, if it’s just us two and a playmate, it removes all the anxiety and build-up. That’s the bit I didn’t like. Once we were into it, I just got on with it.” It wasn’t like I hadn’t had threesomes before. I mean, I could do a threesome with my eyes closed. It was just like riding a—

  “So that’s a yes, is it?” He sounded excited.

  “Tonight?”

  “Might be, or another night this week. No big deal, eh?”

  I suppose so, to keep things interesting for Bobby. I smiled weakly and found myself nodding. After saying goodbye, I rang Mum to distract myself, and she asked how the job interview had gone and did I think I’d got it, and what did it really involve doing. I tried to explain, but as usual, failed, and instead ended up listening to a long account of Mum and Sandra Next Door trying to get fabric for a dress they’d both seen in an advert but both refused to pay the asking price for. “Three hundred pounds, they wanted. Daylight robbery. Thirty quid’s worth of material, and we’ll be well away.” Mum continued explaining how they were going to make the dresses together, hers in red and Sandra Next Door’s in blue.

  “Glad to hear you’re keeping busy. Must go, Mum, love you.”

  “When am I going to meet this Bobby boyfriend of yours?”

  “Gotta go, bye.”

  That night he came home with an enormous Indian takeaway banquet to celebrate my job offer, which by that point I’d had confirmation of in an email, so I felt more secure in the celebration. I felt a bit shielded from Kylie’s influence.

  Sure enough, we fell into bed that night, and after a quick roll about together, were spooning together once again. In the silence of the night, I reflected on the job, him living with me, the sex we’d had, and allowed it to envelope me in a warm fuzzy feeling as I drifted off to sleep.

  Kylie can’t touch this. Kylie’s nowhere near this. It must mean Sky’s back in charge upstairs.

  And that means I can talk to him properly soon.

  Chapter 25

  A week or so later, I’d fully fleshed out the job offer and had sent back the contract. I was to be an assistant to one of the managers of the Wealth Creation department. Our job was to make sure as many high net-worth individuals—multimillionaires, really—invested their spare wealth with us so we could help it grow. It was a combination of judicial investment and five-star schmoozing. It was perfect.

  “See you next week,” John had said earlier that day as I called to confirm receipt of the signed contract.

  “Monday morning, bright and early,” I’d said, smiling to myself.

  I’d given myself permission to have the afternoon off—off from what, I wasn’t quite sure, now I’d got the job. But suddenly not having to apply for jobs all morning felt odd. It felt a bit extravagant, as Bobby was hard at work. I walked to the graveyard and called Amy. She knew I’d been offered the job, but not the rest. I updated her and said I’d be able to meet her for lunch in town from next week.

  “What about this threesome business?” she asked. “Any more after he mentioned it?”

  “Nothing. I think it was just something he said, on a high from my job offer. I’m not going to pursue it. If it happens, it happens, but it’s not something I want us to do every weekend.”

  “And you’re sure you’re happy to do it again. After… last time?” she asked carefully.

  “Up to that point, it was fine. I’m fine.”

  “Fine? I’d have thought you’d be a bit more enthusiastic than that. Fine is what you say when someone makes you a drink. Fine is how you describe a pizza in one of those chain restaurants where it all tastes the same. Fine isn’t how you describe a night of sex with your boyfriend, and A. N. Other. Or maybe that’s just me. Not particularly versed in threesomes, as it goes.”

  “It was fun. I enjoyed myself. We’re so close, nothing anyone else could do in bed would touch that. It’s a proper love job, like I said. Can we leave it there?” I had enjoyed myself. I couldn’t deny the fun of having two instead of one to play with. That was the whole attraction of threesomes pre-Bobby, and it was still true now.

  “Do you want to have lunch in your first week? You can tell me all about it. Monday?”

  “Let’s say Wednesday, I might have some team things to go to at first. I really want them to know I’m committed to it, to the job, the bank, the team. I’m not going to fuck this one up.” I thought about Sky, whom I was sure would be back in charge upstairs.

  Lying in the bath, I heard Bobby return from work. “In here, babe,” I shouted. I’d hung around longer than usual in the bath, knowing when he would be back and hoping to catch a glimpse of Sky, or even Kylie, so I’d know who was minding me from afar and could have an approximate idea of how well things were likely to go with the job, life, everything. Nothing—no signs or shapes in the mirror. I looked at the glass of white feathers on the floor next to the bath, slightly wet from where I’d held them and closed my eyes, appealing to my guardian angel, remembering the night together and how perfect it had been. But nothing doing. No one turned up.

  Bobby’s footsteps banged throughout the flat. I closed my eyes and resigned myself to not hearing from Sky.

  A while later, I checked the red spot on the end of my nose in the mirror.

  “You’ll make it worse if you do that,” Sky said from the mirror.

  My reflection had disappeared, replaced by Sky’s unsmiling face.

  “This will be the last time you’ll ever see me. The Higher Ones have given me special dispensation for this to be a live meeting and not just a message. It’s all new to them. They’ve not come across a situation like this before, and the handbook doesn’t cover the specifics. They felt it best to sever all links and reassign.”

  “Reassign? What does that mean? It sounds like assimilate or something from The Matrix? What’s happening?”

  “I need to say goodbye.” He waved slowly.

  “Never again? Who will come when I summon them with the feathers? I don’t want some other angel, I want you. I need you.”

  “The decision has been made. The Higher Ones have rolled the dice, and it will be so.”

  He faded. As my face slowly replaced his in the mirror, my spot was redder and larger than before.

  Chapter 26

  A few weeks later, I’d settled well into my new job. Bobby and I left for work at the same time, and often I was home much later than him. Determined not to let things slip like last time, this time I was giving the job my all.

  John said to me one night, as I stared at my screen, “I knew you’d be a hard worker. Keep it up, but don’t burn yourself out.” He patted me on my back as he left, switching his screen off on the way. “I want to hear all about it tomorrow morning at the team round-up. I expect you to dazzle me.”

  Dazzle? That was a bit camp for John. Then I remembered, it was from one of OMD’s early albums—Dazzle Ships. We had this ongoing banter about OMD even now; the interview album had kept the banter bubbling along nicely. He would drop in OMD puns at the team round-up, to see if anyone else got it. Mentions of a Sugar Tax or asking me to talk to the “Dollar Girl,” arguments about “Genetic Engineering” or debates about “Joan of Arc” apropos of nothing—all names of albums or songs—passed other team members completel
y unnoticed.

  I did dazzle him. I’d given a suggestion about how to save one of our clients loads of tax, legally, and suggested we could use the same technique with our other clients.

  “Well done, Richard. I’m very impressed. How did you find out about this loophole?”

  “Some articles on the Internet, some forums. Nothing much.”

  John found me after he’d dismissed us all from the team round-up. “Did you like that little touch at the end?”

  “Very good, sir. Yes.” I smiled awkwardly. I still couldn’t get used to calling him sir, but saying just plain old John didn’t feel right either.

  “Go home after lunch. I want you well rested for next week. I’ve got plans for you. I might call you over the weekend to test a few things out, okay?”

  “Course, I’ll speak to you over the weekend. Or on Monday. Whichever, I’ll talk to you. I’m looking forward to it. Okay. Thanks.”

  And I was gone, out through the door and into the lift.

  At home, mid-afternoon, I felt suddenly quite naughty. I rang Amy to see what she was up to.

  “Hello, Richard. What’s up? Are you sick again? I had a feeling in my waters when I brushed my teeth this morning.”

  “Nothing’s up, I was just calling for a chat. Okay to talk?”

  She huffed down the phone. “I’ve got Enya on all-song shuffle, and I’ve angled my earring dreamcatchers to the north. I’ve got to have a report on the hardest type of plastic on my boss’s desk by five o’clock, so I need all the help the universe can give me.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “If you can ask my guardian angel to pull a few favours this afternoon, that would be great.” Back to normal speech now, she added, “Can I call you tonight?”