by M. C. Adams
‘I do feel in control,’ I say. ‘I feel like I just met the real me.’
8
HUNTER
* * *
Luckily, it’s not too hard to find an underwear model with a name like Kitty.
A quick Facebook search and I’d narrowed it down to two profiles. Both of them belonged to people in London, but upon closer inspection, the first one — Kitty Kitty — belonged to a woman who had somehow managed to entirely bypass Facebook’s rules, and it was basically a load of pornographic pictures of her splayed out on various items of furniture.
So, the only left one option: Kitty Bisset.
I mean, I thought Klein’s name was nuts, but… Kitty Bisset? What is she, some kind of comic book supervillain or something?
A few minutes of snooping told me that Kitty has recently turned nineteen. She’s addicted to Candy Crush, her relationship status is ‘complicated’, she likes to shop ’til she drops, and her favourite drink is the Iced White Chocolate Mocha from Starbucks.
So, I did what any protective husband would have done in my position.
I hatched a plan to wreak sweet revenge on this bitch woman and her idiot girlfriend.
And that’s why I’m in the centre of London right now, standing in front of a Starbucks just off Oxford Street, smoothing down my hair and practising my pout, making sure I have just enough skin and ink showing to put my plan into action. It’s the first time I’ve posed as a wannabe instagram influencer, and hopefully it’ll be the last.
I take a deep breath and open the door, peering around the busy café, looking for the platinum blonde hair that I’ve seen online.
I walk up to the counter, thinking that she mustn’t be here yet, but suddenly, I spot a flash of nearly-white hair at the back of the room. That’s got to be her. Her eyes are glued to her phone, and I can see from here that she’s playing Candy Crush. Yep. That’s Kitty alright.
I order something disgusting that’ll help me blend in: a Caramel Macchiato. I’m taking this undercover role very seriously, you see. I’m not Hunter Potts — oops, Hunter MacArthur — right now. My name’s Bebe Tutti and I want to spread my particular brand of queer, vegan workout videos across the whole world. I’m desperate to my idol, Kitty Bisset, to get some influencing advice over a hot drink at my favourite high street establishment, Starbucks.
I grab my drink, which looks so sickly-sweet it makes me wanna puke, and I head over to the back of the café and clear my throat.
‘Um. Are you Kitty?’ I ask, trying not to snigger immaturely when I say her name. I wouldn’t normally laugh at something like that. And honestly, Kitty isn’t a bad name, it’s just… well, knowing that she’s an underwear model, and how perfectly the name fits her… okay. Yeah. I’m immature. Whatever. But Klein started it.
Remembering Klein makes me feel a sudden pang of guilt at being here without telling him.
I told him I needed to take an afternoon off to head into the centre, so it’s not like I lied to him… I just didn’t want him worrying. He should be fine at the house. He’s having the sandstone graffiti removed and the locks changed right now, so he’s got all manner of people there to keep an eye on him.
What happened between Klein and I yesterday… it was intense. I’ve never seen a man come as hard as that before, and then cry afterwards.
He’s obviously been holding so much inside for so long. I want to make sure that he’s comfortable with everything that happens between us. I don’t want to take advantage, or rush him. But… fuck me, it turned me on seeing him like that. And then witnessing his outpouring of emotion afterwards — it was freaking incredible.
That’s why I set this meeting up with Kitty as soon as I could. Now that Klein and I are married, so the house legally belongs to Klein, I want to make sure Kitty backs the fuck off. I know Klein thinks this is going to be the end of the threats, but I know how people can be. Bullies are bullies. A piece of paper won’t necessarily change that. And I can’t have people bullying my husband, and vandalising his property.
Even if the marriage is fake. Even if I did make him come three more times last night.
Even if all I’ve done so far is touch him with my fingers.
Even if I’m so desperate to have him inside me that I can barely handle it.
Stop it, Hunter. You’re getting horny again. You need to focus. You have a job to do.
‘Oh my god,’ I say, putting down my cup and clapping my hands together. ‘You look even more amazing in real life. No wonder you got signed to an agency so quickly!’
Kitty watches me as I sit down, her eyes moving over me as if she’s appraising my every feature.
I’m wearing a pink tracksuit that I picked up in a charity shop, along with a low-cut white vest that shows off my chiseled pecs. I don’t normally do this kinda overtly camp look, but I figured Kitty might be into it. I’ve gelled my hair, trimmed my beard, making it more like stubble. I’ve never felt more ugly.
Thank god Klein was busy sorting the locks at the back of the house and didn’t see me slipping out. I was going to tell him what I was up to if he saw me… but, thankfully, I was sneaky, so I didn’t have to.
‘You Bebe, yeah?’ asks Kitty. Her voice is nasal and she has a strong London accent.
‘That’s me,’ I say. I don’t have a London accent because I grew up in Buckinghamshire, which makes me sound posh, but actually, my dad was a pest controller. That’s a euphemistic way of saying he killed rats, pigeons and bed-bugs for a living. He worked on farms owned by all the rich people. Probably still does, but we haven’t spoken for a long time.
‘Thanks so much for agreeing to meet me,’ I say, trying to insert a liveliness into my voice that’s never normally there. ‘I’m just, like, so passionate about social media, but I’m not having much luck with my profile so far.’
Kitty narrows eyes at me, and for a horrible second, I think she can tell that I’m pretending, but then she picks up a teaspoon and starts eating the mountain of whipped cream on top of her drink. ‘Well,’ she says, with a shrug, ‘problem is, I don’t fink you’ve got what it takes. Not unless you can lose, like, at least ten pounds or sumfin’.’
‘Ten pounds?’
‘Yeah, you know, like, quite a lot of weight. You’s a bit beefy, yeah? Not saying you’re fat or nuffin’, but, like, you’re not gonna too many engagements and impressions lookin’ like… well, like that.’ She looks me up and down, and then eats another spoonful of whipped cream. ‘I’m lucky. I can eat practically anyfin’.’
‘That must be nice for you,’ I say, stalling.
To be honest, I’m a bit lost for words. Kitty has false eyelashes, false nails, and a gold stud like a beauty mark just above her lips. I just don’t quite get why someone who’d been married to Klein would cheat on him with someone like this? And not just cheat, but leave Klein and move in with Kitty. Is it really so important to Charlotte to be with someone so young, so — I’m sorry to say this — trashy-looking, that she’d give up everything she had for… well, for Kitty?
‘You should probably dye your hair blonde, yeah? The camp look is so last decade. Need to toguhen up, cut down. And get a manicure, boy. Your nails are giving me the heebies. Do you bite them or somefin’?’
I look down at my short fingernails. I keep them short for my security work. ‘Yes. It’s a terrible habit. I’ll stop it, like, right away.’
‘That’s good. So what else do you wanna know?’
I’ve got to hand it to Kitty. As much as I hate her for what she did to Klein, she is genuinely giving me social influencer advice.
‘Actually,’ I say. ‘There is one thing I’d love to know.’ I take a sip of my drink, and then instantly regret it, because it’s so sweet and cloying it’s almost painful.
I set my cup down on the table, and lean forwards. ‘I’d like to know why you’re with your partner.’
Kitty looks confused. ‘Why I’m wiv who? What you on about?’
‘Your fuck
-buddy,’ I say. ‘Your bit on the side. I know all about it.’ I’m trying to avoid gendered pronouns in case Kitty isn’t public about her sexuality. No matter how much of a piece of work this girl is, it’s never OK to publicly out someone, even if it’s just at a Starbucks. ‘And I’m just wondering… what is it you like about the arrangement? Is it the money? Or… are they bullying you too? Are you scared to leave the relationship?’
Kitty’s pupils flicker left and right. It looks as though there are a thousand different thoughts swimming around in her head right now. She keeps forming the start of letters with her overly-glossy lips, and then changing her mind. ‘Who-who… Wait… Who are you?’
I cross my arms. ‘I’m a concerned citizen. Heard about what your partner’s been up to. Bullying someone close to me. And I’d like you to pass on a message, please. I’d like you to say… if the bullying doesn’t stop — if my friend isn’t left alone… I’ll bully right back.’
‘Leave your friend alone? Who is your friend? And what’s happening? You’re not makin’ any sense…’
‘Sending men over to his house to scare him. Spray-painting graffiti on his property. It’s pathetic. And it’s not working, either. He’s not scared. Not one bit. So if your friend’s going to keep playing nasty… I’m just going to get nasty back. I’ve got all kinds of dirt on your partner, you see. And I can hit where it really hurts.’ That last part is something of an embellishment. I don’t have much dirt on Charlotte, other than I saw a picture of her on Kitty’s Facebook page — she looks a little worse for wear, but that’s hardly incriminating. Still, it seems to be doing the trick, as Kitty is shifting about in her seat, grabbing her items together, flustered.
‘Look, I dunno who you are, right, but you’re playin’ wiv fire. If I were you, I’d just fuckin’ leave it.’
I stand up, towering over her. ‘You make your friend leave it, and I’ll leave it. Can’t say fairer than that.’
Kitty sighs and nods. ‘Well, I’ll have a word, yeah, but I don’t fink it’ll go too well.’
I shrug. ‘It’ll be even worse if I release the dirt I’ve got,’ I say, continuing to sound as though I genuinely do know something terrible. It worked before, so why not push it a little further? ‘So if you guys know what’s good for you, you won’t come anywhere near us ever again.’
Kitty bites her lip, looking down at her phone, and I decide that that’s my cue to leave.
As I walk out of the café, I feel a small sense of victory. Kitty seemed genuinely worried. I know she doesn’t think Charlotte will listen, but I bet she will. I bet that bitch is a wimp. Anyone that leaves her handsome, talented, rich husband for a skank like Kitty, and then continues to live in the girl’s one-bedroom apartment because she can’t face up to the reality of the mistake she’s made is bound to be a coward.
I take the tube back to Queensway, and then walk through Kensington Gardens, enjoying the winter sunshine, and feeling a lightness in my soul for having stood up to those jerks. Of course, I didn’t manage to speak to Charlotte personally, but I couldn’t think of a way to arrange a meeting with her quite so easily. Anyway, it’s all worked out. Kitty will pass on the message.
By the time I reach the house, I realise that I’m really desperate to see Klein. We’ve only been apart a few hours, and, lame as it is, I actually miss him. How weird is that? We’ve been spending so much time together every day that it’s felt like really strange not to be able to share small talk and laugh about nothing all day long.
I’m happy to see that the spray-paint has disappeared from the gates, and when I buzz the intercom, Klein sounds cheerful: ‘Hunter! Come in!’
He greets me at the door with a huge smile. ‘I’ve changed all the locks and even added some new ones. It’s like Fort Knox here now…’ He stops talking as his brain finally registers what I’m wearing. ‘Hunter? What on earth? Why do you look like that? Is this… a new look?’
I laugh. ‘No. Definitely not.’
We go into the kitchen and I explain what I was up to today. ‘I’m sorry if it seems like I was going behind your back. I was just… I didn’t want you to worry about me. And I really think it worked.’
Klein frowns. ‘This isn’t going to work if we don’t share things properly. You need to tell me if you’re going to do something crazy like that.’ Then, he gives me a sly smile. ‘I always wanted someone to stand up for me, though. To fight for me. It’s very stupid, but it’s romantic.’
It’s my turn to frown now. ‘Is it?’
‘Absolutely. And I’m probably being way too light-hearted about all this because, A: you look absolutely hilarious, and, B: you made me come very hard yesterday.’
His cheeks do still look flushed as it happens, and there’s a giggly, boyishness about him that I’ve never seen before. It’s very charming.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about what I was doing,’ I say, moving around the counter and pulling him close to me. ‘I guess I wasn’t thinking totally straight. When I saw that spray-paint on the gates, I saw red. I’ve been victimised for my sexuality in the past, you know. In a bad way. My dad… Well, it doesn’t matter.’
‘But it does matter, Hunter. I want you to share things with me.’
I look away for a moment, and then back at Klein. I sigh. ‘My dad was a bully.’
‘What did he do?’
I’ve never told anyone this stuff before, and I feel weird about saying it out loud. But I need to get it off my chest. I’ve been helping Klein let things out lately. I need to let my own shit out too.
‘It all started when I turned thirteen. I started having crushes on celebrities, you know, like any normal teenager. Male celebrities. I put this poster of Heath Ledger on my bedroom wall. I mean, he was way too old for me anyway, but I found this centre-fold pic in a gossip mag, of him when he was younger, topless and smiling, with all this water falling all over him, with that long blonde hair… Well, my dad saw it and he went fucking ape-shit. He beat me with his belt, which wasn’t unusual if I’m being honest — it’s the way he used to treat my mum, too, before she walked out on us. But this time, when he beat me… it was hard. It properly sliced open the skin.’
‘Oh my god, Hunter.’
‘Then, I had a sleepover for my fourteenth birthday, and my dad told all my friends that they weren’t allowed to sleep in the same room as me because I was a “big raving gaylord”. Told them lies about how I’d been planning to touch them all in their sleep. I lost a lot of friends after that. And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, when I was fifteen, he kicked me out.’
‘He kicked you out?’
‘Disowned me. Told me he was hoping it was just a phase, but that it had gone on long enough. He said it was disgusting. Spat at the floor as he pushed me away. And you know what the real fucking shitty thing is? He had a huge stash of gay porn at the bottom of his wardrobe. I knew about it for years, and I hated it. Considered throwing it away several times when he was out, but he’d have only beaten me yet again. Wasn’t worth it.’
Klein holds me tight, and strokes my hair. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.’
‘Just in case I wasn’t already cynical enough about life,’ I say, ‘I got beaten up for my sexuality again after that. In the street, in broad daylight, by a complete stranger, just for holding hands with a man. I got my back tooth knocked out.’ I open my mouth, and show Klein where I have a molar missing.
‘You poor thing.’
‘That’s one of the reasons I went into working in security. And I only ever worked at gay bars and clubs. I wanted to look out for others, to stop them from having to go through the same thing as me. I wanted to protect them.’
Klein shakes his head. ‘How can people be so cruel? How can it matter to other people who you want to kiss, to hold hands with, to marry?’
I shrug and sigh. ‘People are scared of anyone who’s different to them, I guess… Anyway. It’s how I ended up on a bit of a bad path for a while. D
id things I regret.’
‘That’s okay,’ Klein says, stroking my forearm. ‘You don’t have to tell me all of this stuff now. Like you said to me yesterday, there’s no rush. Let’s take our time together.’
I nod.
Klein takes hold of my face, and then tilts it upwards, giving me a kiss on the lips. Then, his blue eyes sparkle as he says: ‘I actually did something a little bit naughty too. It’s, uh, another secret. I should have told you about it. I sent off our marriage paperwork to my lawyer earlier on, to let him know that the house is now legally mine, and I’m feeling rather celebratory. Besides, I decided that after all the weird stuff we’ve been through, we deserve a honeymoon. A real one. So I’m taking another couple of days off work, and I’ve booked us a trip to Paris.’
‘Paris?’ I say. ‘As in, Paris in France?’
Klein laughs. ‘Yes. That’s right. I know I should’ve asked you where you wanted to go too, but… I just think Paris is so romantic, don’t you? And I feel rather… romantic right now.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ says Klein.
‘Yeah,’ I say quietly, pressing my lips hard against his.
9
KLEIN
* * *
‘Well, at least I know you’re not going to propose to me up here, since we’re already married,’ Hunter says, laughing.
His short, jet-black hair ruffles in the breeze. We can see the whole of Paris laid out beneath us. The Sacré-Cœur, the Arc de Triomphe, the Notre-Dame Cathedral. I don’t know how I’ve lived on this planet for thirty-seven years and still never made it here before now. I suppose I was waiting to come here with someone special, and I just never met the right person.
