Page 9 of Don't Point at the Moon

“Look—Tommy, isn’t it?” Mitchell had called out. “You probably don’t remember me—”

“I know who you are, Mitchell Baxter.”

“Oh, I see. Then perhaps we can share the taxi? I’m happy to drop you off in town or somewhere. Just tell me where.”

“Too late. Thanks to you I’ve lost my mojo.” Tommy had stopped to look over his shoulder in disgust. “And do you honestly think I’d get in a cab with you after you pulled a stunt like that? You’d probably dump me outside the Methodist church in Wanchai for an AA meeting. Or at the local police station citing parole violation. No, fuck you very much. Have a nice life.”

Okay, with hindsight, maybe he had been a touch overdramatic. Shit. Whatever. He was unlikely to see the guyagain. Right now, he needed something to divert his sister’s schoolmarm glare.

“On a brighter note, any updates on the wedding?” he asked, and noticed her stern features brighten.

“I haven’t had a chance to tell you. You know what a pain the wedding banquet was becoming, because of the numbers and the date. Well, for the ceremony, we secured the front lawn of the Repulse Bay. But they’re not able to cater the banquet. Eventually Daley’s father stepped in and pulled some strings. He knows one of the owners of the Grand Hyatt and managed to book us the Grand Ballroom on the date we wanted. Four hundred and fifty guests. And we have preferential rates for a hundred rooms already blocked. At least that’s one major headache out of the way.”

Her fiancé, Singaporean Daley Tan, came from a wealthy family. His father owned commercial properties in Singapore and Malaysia, although Daley had found his niche in men’s jewellery, mainly trading in high-end watches, his primary passion. The family was not in the top league of Crazy Rich Asians, but they were very comfortably off, and, more importantly, the money hadn’t spoilt them. In fact, Tommy had always considered Daley a little nerdy with his designer but thick-lensed glasses and chubby face. And the few times they’d met in Singapore, Daley had taken them for lunch at his favourite spot, a dai pai dong open-air food stall, where they’d sat on plastic stools on the street slurping prawn noodles from chipped bowls.

“We’ll put up close relatives from overseas in our parent’s flat. Gran and Aunt Mabel have offered, too. And be prepared to be invited to join a message group for the bridesmaids, groomsmen and other organisers. And no, Daley and I are not included. One last thing. Mum asked if you could take your cello home. It’s taking up space in their spare room.”

“I’ll pop over Saturday.”

“And the string quartet I wanted for the ceremony is a bust. They accepted a better offer in Los Angeles the same weekend. I don’t suppose you’d rethink getting up on stage and playing—”

“Absolutely not, sis. I am not looking like a dickhead in front of our friends and relatives.”

Or any potential hook-ups, he thought, but said nothing.

“You used to be good, Tommy.”

For a second, Tommy thought his sister meant his ability to hook up.

“Used to be. Past tense. I haven’t practised in years. Move on. What other news?”

“Well, the hotel’s organising the catering for the banquet—so that’s one headache out of the way—and Mother’s friend is sorting out the flowers. Bridesmaid’s dresses will be a challenge, but I am working on a strategy. And can you believe that, despite his insane schedule, Alec has agreed to be Daley’s best man. Oh, and you’ll never guess who…”

Tommy heard no more. Dusty blond-haired, stunningly good-looking Australian Alec Janussen, complete with surfer bod and easy confidence, had been at Daley’s thirtieth birthday celebration in Singapore. Alec and Daley had gone to university together in Sydney and remained lifelong buddies. Not often did Tommy get tongue-tied, but once left alone with the demigod, he had been unable to find anything remotely interesting to say in response to Alec’s questions. Even though Tommy had sensed a definite vibe, staring at the light blond chest hair, the freckled skin beneath his open-neck silk shirt, and the well-defined pecs stretching the fabric, he'd been so embarrassed at freezing that he’d excused himself to use the restroom before heading upstairs and locking himself in his hotel room. Since then, he had told nobody and hoped Alec had written him off as a basket case. Were the gods giving him a second chance?

“—and I didn’t know what to tell them, because you haven’t told me yet.”

“I’m sorry. Told you what?”

“Who you’re bringing? Is poor Ming going to be hanging off your arm again, pretending to be your doting girlfriend? Or are you going to grow a pair and actually bring a man-date?”

Throughout the years—even though most of his immediate family knew he was gay—he had never brought a guy to a family event. Not that he had met anyone worth bringing along. But even if he had, would he have had the courage to introduce them to his critical extended family? Having a girl on his arm meant he could still scout the room for hook-ups without anyone suspecting. At his grandmother’s seventieth banquet, Ming had sat chatting at the family table during dessert while he was in the men’s room getting a blow job from a waiter.

“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Well start. I’m sending out save-the-date cards next Tuesday, and I’m putting you down as a plus-one.”

Tommy waited a few seconds before voicing what he was aching to ask.

“Is Alec bringing anyone?”

He felt grateful when Sammi carried on unpacking items without looking up.

“No idea. But I don’t think so. Just as well, really. He’ll have his work cut out just keeping Daley to schedule. You know how unpunctual my fiancé can be, which is ironic considering he sells timepieces for a living? And did I mention the latest on the bridesmaid situation? Nightmare. Oh, but hang on, let me start by giving you an update on the current guest list dramas. So, Auntie Myleen has outright refused to attend if her ex-husband is invited…”

Tommy tuned Sammi out, his attention drawn to a two-page spread in the magazine, maybe because of her mentionof timepieces. In the forefront there stood a beautiful man and woman, both actors he vaguely knew, and both clearly used to being in the spotlight. Chatting to a nondescript bald man in a white tuxedo, Tommy noticed they wore the same sparkling brand of sports watch. Were it not for the informal scattering of people, this could have been an advert for the watch company. A quick glance at the accompanying text told him the actors were attending the launch of a new range of elegant sports watches by a well-known manufacturer. Someone had gone to great lengths to pick the perfect Bali setting, with elegantly dressed people standing on a pristine lawn decorated with white pavilions and an ancient, moss-covered Hindu temple as the backdrop.

As Sammi droned on, Tommy refocused his attention on the people in the background, his gaze drawn instantly to the tall Caucasian man in the tan suit with the Arctic-blue eyes, chin dimple and long blond hair. Talk about coincidence. There stood the man himself, Alec Janussen, with Daley standing alongside. He was about to interrupt Sammi and show her, but something about the composition didn’t feel right, and he leant forward to study the photograph in more detail.

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