Mark Means Tested (Deff Book 3)

by Danni Fall

  Ryan lets out a relieved sounding laugh. "Something like that. Hold on and I'll fetch my finest biro."

  Simon checks his latest text from Zoe and braces to get told off.

  Get back to HQ ASAP, need your help with something it reads. Single entering chart at no 3. Interview with Radio A @ 9AM. Spoke confidentially to Maiden last night – they want a meeting straight after Radio A.

  Ryan gets back with the CD and shoots Simon a confused look.

  "You alright? You looked like you're gonna be sick."

  "It's gone to number three," he says dazedly.

  Ryan grins. "Nice one."

  "Maiden Records wanna talk to us."

  "Fucking hell, you're gonna be a millionaire. Tell you what, I've got great taste in best mates." Ryan's smile fades at Simon's expression. "You're seriously crying about this?"

  "I'm just happy," Simon lies. "I cry about everything."

  "Don't I know it?" Ryan keeps looking at him, some strange combination of proud and fascinated, like he's seeing him for the first time. "Should you really be having beers on the beach if you're about to get signed?"

  "That's confidential, don't tell anyone."

  "Course I won't. I'm really proud of you mate."

  Simon cries harder. "Thanks mate."

  "Come on, let's drive back then I'll piss off home, yeah?"

  He wipes his eyes on his sleeve and pulls himself together. "Yeah. Down to brass tacks."

  Chapter 19

  Simon

  "What do you need my help with?" Simon asks when he steps through the door. "Winning over Simeon?"

  "Not yet, save your charm for the morning," Zoe says. "I need you to track down Mark."

  He deflates. "What? He can't have gone missing again, it's not even twenty four hours since we saw him."

  "More like three hours, he was here earlier."

  "Why can't you look for him?"

  "Because you know him best," she says.

  "No I don't! Joe does."

  "Then because Joe and I have been busy arse kissing. It's about time you did something to help now you've finished getting off with Westminster's student body."

  "Can't help that they've got some great student bodies."

  Zoe pulls a face. "Spare me."

  "What is it you want me to do? Drive around looking for him, like he's a dog that got out the garden?"

  "Apply your mind. Think where he might be, check your old haunts."

  "Our old haunts? We don't share any," he insists.

  "Simon, I haven't got time for all this protest."

  "Why did he even take off? What did you say?"

  "I was telling him about my chat with Simeon last night. He looked about ready to faint and said he was going out for some air."

  "Except he didn't, did he? He fucking ran off."

  "Well yes, I see that now! Hindsight's a wonderful thing."

  "Did you tell him about Radio A too?"

  "No, I heard about that and tomorrow's meeting after he'd gone."

  "Please don't say I have to tell him about those," Simon grimaces.

  "What's the alternative? He isn't actually a dog, we can't trick him into going to the interview by saying we're off to the park."

  "If he went weird when you just mentioned Simeon, telling him about record deals and radio shows is gonna put him in a coma."

  "Doesn't that up the appeal of you telling him?"

  Simon concedes a smirk. "He's been weird about Maiden since we messed up in front of their scout."

  "Then find wherever he's run off to and spend the evening selling him on them. That shouldn't be hard, given how much you love them."

  "What's in this for me?"

  "There's a record deal in it for you."

  "If I do it this time, you're doing it next time he goes insane."

  "I'm not agreeing to that. Get going before I think of more errands you can run."

  "You know, it wouldn't kill you to say well done on reaching number three."

  "Wouldn't kill you to say it either." She smiles. "Well done, Simon."

  He stops his bottom lip trembling. "Thanks, you too."

  "Get going before you start blubbing. If you find him, don't take your eyes off him and don't fall for any bullshit excuses he comes out with."

  "Do as you say, not as you do, yeah?" he grins. "You got those baby reins?"

  ***

  As Simon drives through Barking, he toys with detouring to the petrol station. He resists and keeps heading straight for the Sex Den. Despite finding the lock off the door, he still jumps when he sees Mark sprawled on one mattress.

  Mark's eyes snap open. "Don't know why you look so surprised. We agreed we could both use this place, didn't we? You're lucky I didn't change the combination."

  "You're moody for a guy at number three in the charts."

  "Not number one, is it?"

  "You said there was no way we'd get to number one."

  "Would've been nice to be proved wrong. Nowt to be done about it, people are still developing a music taste. We're a shock to the system."

  "What're you doing in here?" Simon looks for signs of other people and sees none.

  "I'm working on our sophomore album."

  "The debut isn't out yet."

  "What can I say, I'm efficient." Mark makes a point of craning past Simon. "How about you? Your date snuck off again?"

  "I don't do dates."

  "Your conquest, then. Your fuck-to-be."

  "How come you're here?" Simon insists. "Zo said you went out for some air hours ago and never came back."

  "I must've got lost."

  "Come off it."

  "So what, you're here cause you're worried about me? I'm touched."

  "No, Zo told me to keep an eye on you since you're a flight risk."

  "Flight risk suggests there's somewhere I need to be."

  "We've got an interview with Radio A in the morning, nine o'clock."

  Mark's grin slips. "Since when?"

  "Since the Oes and Will set it up just now."

  "God they never stop, do they?"

  "Why would we wanna stop when we're on a roll?" Simon asks.

  "It's Radio A, they're so bloody peppy."

  "What's that matter? They're playing the song, that's what counts."

  "Then why do we need to be there? For moral support?"

  "So they can interview us. Have you hit your head? What's weird about that?"

  "I just don't get why we need to be there if we're not playing live. They'll ask a bunch of stupid questions like what did we eat for breakfast or how many girls did you shag on the way in."

  "It's the most popular radio station in the UK, what's it matter if they ask stupid questions? It's all about airtime."

  "If you say so. Is that why you're here? To be my living alarm clock?"

  "There's a meeting with Maiden right after."

  Something like fear flashes across Mark's face. "What?"

  "Will and the Oes spoke to them last night."

  "I knew about that but not about a meeting. You ever feel like people are scheming behind your back?"

  "You always said Zo was a good businesswoman."

  "I suppose I did." Mark looks momentarily lost in thought.

  "You don't seem happy about it. Just forget about that stupid gig in Luton, Maiden have."

  "Doing a bang up job of reading my mind. Anything else I should know?"

  "Not that Zoe told me."

  "Well don't let me keep you. Feel free to retire to the bedroom if it's too seedy for you down here."

  "Like you're not gonna take off if I do that," Simon says.

  "Sure you're not having me put down in the morning?"

  "You're the one going off about how pointless interviews are and how much you don't trust Maiden, of course I think you're gonna take off."

  "I assure you, I'm not."

  "Like that counts for anything, coming from you. Why don't we go for a drive?"

  "Mus
t we?"

  "Easier to keep an eye on you in the car," Simon says.

  "I'm comfy here, I was having a nice kip till you barged in."

  "You'd honestly rather stay here, with the sweat smell?"

  "Hey, you can get some scented candles if the odour offends you. Actually, better make it air fresheners, don't wanna burn the place down."

  "Are we going or what?" Simon jangles his keys. "The Audi's got leather seats and an air freshener."

  "How can I resist an offer like that?"

  Mark snatches the keys and follows Simon to the car. When they're underway, Simon keeps expecting Mark to run his mouth but he stays silent, expression glazed as he drives at exactly the speed limit, following random roads on autopilot.

  "I always wanted a nice car," Simon offers.

  "Very out of character."

  "When I was a kid, I'd go and sit in the garage after school if my mum was working late. I'd look at all the cars coming in for services and stuff. Most of them weren't much, just Fords and that."

  "Is it legal for someone from your neck of the woods to be so dismissive about Ford?"

  Simon pulls a face. "But sometimes, you'd get some geezer in, with a big watch and a big car. Like a BMW or a Mercedes or-"

  "Or a dick swinging Audi, eh?"

  "Or an Audi," Simon agrees drily. "And I'd think to myself God, I want all that someday. And now it is someday, someday's here already."

  "Next stop, Wembley."

  "What about you? Did you dream about this stuff when you was little?"

  He shoots a furtive look at Mark and sees his blank expression.

  "Did you dream about big cars and watches and houses? Don't really see that with you, you live like you grew up in a skip."

  "You don't know that I didn't."

  "You did say Chesterfield was a shit hole."

  "Well remembered," Mark says. "I was under the impression you ignore everything I say."

  "What did you dream about then? When you was little, littler than you are now."

  Mark smirks grudgingly. "I dreamt about leaving."

  The words hang in the air between them. Simon doesn't dare look at him again until they pull over by Regent's Park.

  "Why've you stopped? It's locked this time of night."

  "Yeah, so?" Mark pulls an empty beer can from the driver's pocket as he climbs out. "Drink driving? Tut tut."

  "It wasn't when I was driving, it's leftover from when me and Ry went down the beach. You can put it in a bin for us."

  "Yes sir, three bags full sir," Mark mutters as he throws it at a bin and misses.

  "Shit shot."

  "I'm better at darts."

  Mark walks over to a section of fence and looks expectantly at Simon.

  "We're not actually doing this," Simon says.

  "Why not?"

  "Cause it's illegal. Don't make me explain what crime is again."

  "Oh I remember, thanks to you," Mark sneers.

  "You literally just finished your community service, d'you really want more?"

  "Simon, it's going in a park after hours, not a fucking bank heist. Worst case scenario, we get a rap on the knuckles. Best case scenario, we get a rap on the knuckles and some free press. Lemme give you a boost."

  "Then how'll you get over?" Mark looks unimpressed and Simon huffs out his breath. "Fine, be quick though."

  "Bloody hell," Mark wheezes as he boosts him. "You're not light, are ya?"

  "I'm in shape, I'm just tall. There's a lot of me."

  "No kidding."

  Simon stumbles but stays upright when he lands. He takes a step back and watches Mark scrabble over, ungracefully but fast. Mark dusts himself off before leading the way. The further they get from the road, the darker it gets, until Simon has to hold onto railings to keep his footing.

  "Should have brought a torch," he says.

  "I'll bring my utility belt next time we have a spur of the moment drive."

  "You don't come here with Chris, then?"

  "On dates, you mean? That what you're implying? If the answer's yes, then why've I brought you wimme?"

  "That wasn't what I meant," Simon lies.

  "Good. I haven't seen him since the gig, at any rate."

  "He hated it that much?"

  "Something like that."

  Simon's eyes adjust to the gloom. He keeps looking forward rather than dwelling on imagined movement out of the corner of his eye. "I don't think I've been here before."

  "Doesn't surprise me," Mark says. "Not a cultured bloke, are you? You only got pills on you?"

  "What else would I have? You think I'm hiding another six pack?"

  "Not the beer kind, definitely not the abs kind. Guess I'll have to make my own entertainment."

  They head deeper into the park, past rose bushes and little waterways, pausing occasionally to swig vodka from Mark's hipflask. Simon uses it to wash down pills while Mark does the same with a bump of speed.

  "Where d'you think the ducks go?" Mark asks.

  "Keep your voice down."

  "Why? There's no-one round."

  "Then you don't need to yell, I can hear you fine."

  "I'm not yelling, it's just quiet in here. Well?"

  "Well what?" Simon asks.

  "Where d'you think the ducks go? There's usually a load of ducks round here but you barely see any at night. Where do they all go?"

  "They go to bed."

  "Where? I don't see any nests. Perhaps they're like us, they go down Soho for a kip," Mark says. "You really didn't plan on ringing any girls and inviting them back to the Sex Den while keeping tabs on me?"

  "What's it matter to you?"

  "It doesn't matter a toss to me, I'm making conversation."

  "Don't feel like you need to," Simon says.

  They end up in an overgrown area hemmed in by scraggly, chest high bushes. Mark drops heavily to the sun scorched grass and looks up at the sky.

  "I'm not keeping walking," Mark says. "I didn't sign up for a hike."

  Simon sits down beside him. "You can see the stars really well."

  Mark makes a noise of agreement as he drinks more vodka.

  "Reminds me of Leicester," Simon says as he snatches the flask.

  "It's nothing like Leicester."

  "I just meant it's you and me and it's quiet and there's nature and that."

  "You and your way with words."

  "That night, you looked like..." Simon fades off, mouth dry.

  They look at one another but Mark's expression is hard to read in the darkness. Simon tilts his head and tracks the blinking light of an aeroplane passing overhead.

  The sound of Mark's hand thumbing open the button of his jeans is impossibly loud. Simon watches out the corner of his eye as Mark slips his hand inside and begins palming himself. He thinks about navigating back through the park and scaling the fence. Instead, his hand mirrors Mark's.

  They sit, working themselves over, until Mark starts fidgeting. Simon squints in the gloom and makes out Mark slipping his jeans and pants past his knees. He can't find the words to ask what Mark is doing but doesn't need to when Mark turns away from him, propped up on his hands and knees.

  Before his brain can catch up with his body, Simon shoves down his own clothes, shuffles forward and grabs Mark's hips, pressing himself hard against his backside. Mark's hands reach back to grip Simon's thighs shakily. He snaps forward in a juddering rhythm until Mark's hands slip off him. With fleeting glances, Simon sees how they land on Mark's backside and spread his cheeks.

  He spits into one shaking hand, rubs it over his length then presses into Mark with enough ease to make him gasp. Mark makes a pathetic sound that he quickly swallows and Simon clutches him tighter, knuckles turning white as he presses in as far as he'll go. Mark's arms buckle until they fold under him and his arse pushes up and back. Simon leans over Mark, grabbing him about the waist as he rams in so fast he struggles for breath.

  He comes with a grunt then pulls out and pu
ts space between them. Mark stays bent in half, finishing himself off with a whimper.

  "Remind me to ask the council for the CCTV footage," Mark wheezes as he dresses.

  Simon resists looking around for cameras. "Fuck off."

  "I'll try but I might move slower after that."

  Simon grabs Mark by his t-shirt and gives him a shove. "Stop fucking talking."

  "Christ, I was joking. There's no CCTV round here." Mark glances down. Queasily, Simon follows his gaze and sees spunk on the grass. "They might be able to trace me with that, though."

  "Shut it!"

  "Not a good idea to leave your DNA at the scene of a crime."

  "Stop going on about it!"

  "Should've thought of that before you stuck your cock in my-"

  Simon makes to swing at him but Mark beats him to it, landing a fast jab. He yelps as pain radiates from his eye before scrabbling to whack Mark's face and neck.

  "Dickhead!" Simon snarls. "We're going on the radio! I'm gonna have a black eye, you cunt!"

  "It's radio, they're not gonna see you," Mark says hoarsely, rubbing his throat where Simon had struck.

  "The DJ'll see! They'll ask!"

  "Then cook up some story. Use your imagination, say some supermodels were fighting over you and you got caught in the crossfire."

  "Is that what you're gonna say?" Simon counters. "You gonna tell Chris you got a black eye cause girls were fighting over you?"

  "I've not got a black-"

  Simon tries and fails to hit Mark in the eye, mostly catching his temple as Mark dodges. Mark retaliates by slapping Simon's ear.

  "Fuck! Stop it!" Simon hisses.

  "Then stop threatening to talk to Chris."

  "Why shouldn't he know what you get up to?"

  "Why d'you care?" Mark asks.

  "I don't care, I just think people should know you're-"

  "What? Nothing? Scum?"

  "Yeah, all of that."

  Mark gives him a mean smile. "Then why shouldn't people know the same about you? Why shouldn't they know what you do?"

  Simon clenches his jaw to stop it trembling. "You'd fuck yourself over just to fuck with me?"

  "Given all the lovely stuff you've done for me in the last couple of years, I'd certainly consider it." Mark gives the subtle bump in his nose a rub.

  "I broke your nose but you ruined my life!"

  "Bollocks, you've got a flash car and a hit song." Mark's smile turns meaner. "Are you just sad about your mate?"