Page 33 of Asking For a Friend

“I heard,” one taffeta-clad woman says to another, “that the blond one is a pornstar. I’m surprised Orlando dared show his face. Not after the way he ran off with all Stephanie’s jewellery.”

“No, that’s not true. Not the jewellery part. I know that’s true. Stephanie had to make a huge insurance claim. But he ran off with a man twice his age. He was the pornstar. The blond one is a transvestite. He dresses up as a woman.”

I cringe at the lies they’re spreading and the hideous derogatory word, but I don’t have the time or the right to put them in their place. I’m not even surprised. These people are typically uneducated in anything to do with the LGBTQ+ community. As I pass through into the garden, I catch snippets of similar conversations. It’s enough to make me want to leave, taking all the staff with me.

Then I see him.

Lando is talking to four people, two men, two women. His parents are standing a few feet away. The smiles pasted on their faces are the fakest I’ve ever seen. But the people with Lando are listening with intensity. Their smiles are genuine. I get closer. Lando is talking about his books, and the women are riveted. They’re gushing that they can’t believe they’re meeting the author of their favourite books.

Of course the pretty man is with him. Pride is pouring off him as he stands close to Lando, his hand resting on the laces that tie the corset at the base of his spine. I recognise him now as one of the people at the birthday night in The King’s Head. As if he senses I’m watching them, he looks straight at me. I see the moment he recognises me. His back stiffens as he slides his hand farther around Lando until he’s holding his hip.

A sure sign to tell me to fuck the right off.

Lando must notice the change in pretty boy because he halts his words and turns his head. Shit, he’s going to see me. I step back behind a huddle of guests around one of the many patio heaters, but I’m not quick enough. Lando lets out a little gasp. The shocked look on his face morphs quickly into indifference, and he picks up his conversation again.

I retreat to the kitchen, where Sharon is clearing the last of her utensils, packing them into large plastic containers and securing the lids. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” she asks as I lean against one of the oak cabinets.

“It’s nothing. When is this party ever going to end?”

“You’ve done more than your duty tonight. Go home, Hesketh. You can blacklist the client on Monday.”

“I agree. I didn’t want to be here anyway. I’ll call you on Monday. Thanks, Sharon. As always, the food was amazing.”

We hug briefly. Then I head out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As I pass the stairs, someone stands up from the bottom step and into my path.

Lando glares at me, his hands on his hips. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

My father treats me like we’re best buds, as if he hasn’t ignored me in the last ten years. His hand on my shoulder is squeezing a little too tightly, though. Is he stopping me from doing a runner?

Around us, guests are whispering, and my mum looks for the unexploded bomb. She’s in panic mode, and I guess she wants this moment to be over with quickly. I’ve embarrassed her by not accepting her embrace and probably having Connor with me. And let’s not forget the matching outfits. Could we be any gayer? Hell, yeah, we could.

Connor leans in. “How do you want to play this? Your mother looks like she’s about to have kittens.”

“I’m okay for a little while. I want to see why I’m here because it sure as shit isn’t because he’s ill.” I meet my dad’s glare head on. “I thought we’d come by for a little while. Y’know, to see how you are, after your phone call.”

His cheeks redden, and he looks away. My mum, on the other hand, wants to know what’s going on. “What phone call? Christopher, what’s he talking about?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just a misunderstanding. Orlando, come and meet some of my friends.” He waves us through the doorway and farther into the packed room.

“I now know how animals in a zoo feel.” Connor doesn’t make any attempt to lower his voice. A few of the guests closeby blush, but most give us a look of disdain and walk away with their noses in the air.

“Orlando, who’s your friend?” my father asks and gives Connor a smile. Or what probably is supposed to be a smile. If one smiles at something at the bottom of their shoe.

“I’m Connor, Lando’s boyfriend.” He accentuates the boy in boyfriend. “We’re more than friends.”

“I’m sure. Well, Connor, thank you for coming.”

“Stop.” I halt, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. “What’s going on? Because you don’t seem to be ill, and Mum doesn’t know about your phone call. Do you only want me here to boost your family credibility? If that’s true, then I’m leaving now.”

A waiter glides up to us and offers us a tray of appetisers. My dad shakes his head, but I take a crostini. Connor gives the waiter an appreciative once-over and picks out two, taking his time.

“It’s true, but I haven’t told your mother yet. She’s had this party planned since August, even got some company in to do it. I’ll tell her afterwards.” He sighs. “It’s also true that I wanted you here for business purposes.”

“That’s just great. What you’ve just said, even without whatever it is that’s wrong with you, and your bullshit story about a united family proves what an arsehole you are. You never wanted me within a mile of you. You’re such a piece of shit.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” His true colours are now shining through his façade of fake happiness.

“And I can leave just as quickly. I don’t give a fuck about your business deals. You have enough money. You don’t need more. Not if you’re not going to be around to enjoy it. Why don’t you retire and spend some of the fortune you’ve amassed?”

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