Page 3 of Commitment Issues
Chapter Two
Freddie
“Hold on a minute. You want me to go away, to a wedding, with somebody I’ve never met and pretend to be his boyfriend? Is this some kind of joke or have you been smoking something you shouldn’t have?” I stare at James’ video-call face. Have I heard him correctly? James’ serious expression tells me I have, every single word.
Instead of answering me, he draws deep on his cigarette, blowing the smoke slowly upwards, all the time keeping his eyes on me. Virtual James may be on the other side of London, but the virtual ciggie smoke still makes me want to cough and splutter.
“No, Freddie, it’s not a joke. In fact, the situation is as far from funny as it can be.” He runs the fingers of his free hand through his ruffled hair, making it stick up further and reminding me of a toilet brush, and the sheet that only partially covers his bare chest slips down further.
The last thing I’d expected when Cosmo, my friend and landlord, had thrust his phone at me, was to be confronted by his half naked, dishevelled cousin. I’ve only ever seen James fully suited and booted, every immaculate hair in place. Next to me on the sofa, and squashed-up tight, Cosmo tries his best not to laugh, and makes a complete hash of it.
“A very good and dear friend of mine finds himself in something of a fix,” James says, taking another drag on his cigarette, before adding, “he of course doesn’t see it that way, but a fix is most definitely what it is. He has a wedding to attend, which he absolutely refuses to step back from. His ex will also be in attendance—”
“His ex-boyfriend? So, you want me to be your friend’s bit of arm candy to make the former boyfriend jealous? Are you mad, bad, or just dangerous to know?”
There’s no way I’m going to breathe in the noxious fumes of somebody else’s toxic relationship. James can take a long walk off a very short pier.
“Oh, all three, and often all at the same time, but this isn’t about me, it’s about Elliot. I’d rather not see him attend on his own. Especially as I have it on good authority that his ex will be there with his new boyfriend. You would be helping Elliot out in his hour of need, providing a little moral support. That’s all. You’d earn my gratitude, and a whole lot more in the form of a rather handsome financial incentive.”
I shake my head and huff. It’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard, but curiosity’s sitting on my shoulder and whispering in my ear. And as for thatfinancial incentive, well, those words have the ring of magic about them, because there’s no denying a much-neededfinancial incentivewould get me out of my own fix… But what he’s suggesting is a farce.
“James, just think about what you’re asking. It’s crazy, because stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life. It sounds more like some cheesy rom com and—”
“Life, if lived well and to the full, should be packed with drama.” James smiles and carries on smoking, his eyes narrowed against the tendrils of smoke as the cig dangles from his mouth. He looks both debauched and sated, and the reason for that is no doubt the owner of the deep, masculine voice rumbling in the background. A hand comes into shot, and plucks the cigarette away, and James’ lips purse in a little, sulky moue.
“And should you really be talking to me about this when you’re half naked and have a man in bed with you?” I blurt out. Next to me, Cosmo explodes in spluttering laughter, and I shove him off the sofa. Landing hard on his arse on the hardwood floor does nothing to stop his glee.
“Why not? And how do you know it’s only the one man?” James’ lips lift in a wicked, taunting smile. He sits up straight and tugs the sheet up to cover his pale chest, his louche, just-been-fucked expression falling away.
Staring out at me from the screen, his face is impassive and unreadable, and I shiver. Behind his flippancy, there’s something hard and steely about this man. He’s a former high-ranking policeman, although I doubt he ever trod the beat on some skanky sink estate, but who is now ‘something in the government’.
“Elliot needs help. He doesn’t know it, but I do. But you need help too. I know you’re having money troubles.”
I shoot a glance at Cosmo, now sprawled out on his front on the floor, his chin propped up in his cupped hands. He gives me a vaguely apologetic shrug.
Thanks, Cos…I go to kick him, but his cat-like reflexes get the better of me. I’ll deal with the little fucker later.
“I’m a student. Students are always hard up,” I mutter.
Hard up? I should have a big red rosette pinned to my chest declaring that to be the No. 1 Understatement of The Year.
“You’re up to your eyes in student loans, and barely existing on the pittance you earn from stacking supermarket shelves, or something equally as ghastly. And please, don’t tell me that the pennies you get from helping to mark the illiterate offerings of first-year undergraduate students in medieval boot making —”
“Norse Studies,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Vikings? How terribly butch. But, as you young things say, whatever.” James waves my interruption aside. “My proposal could alleviate some of the pressure, make things better for you in the short term. Plus, a long weekend staying in a sumptuous villa in a very exclusive part of the South of France, and just a moment from the beach. You’d be treated to the best of everything, all expenses met. For a while, you’d leave your dreary existence and live a life of luxury. Please forgive my indelicacy, but if you insist on making a career out of studying Dark Age pottery techniques, you’ll never be able to afford much more than an off-season weekend in some dreadful caravan park.”
Oh, that stings. But he’s right. The way my finances are going, that off-season weekend’s shaping up to be a prize to aspire to. It’s true, I need the money. Desperately. My face burns at having my financial inadequacies laid bare.
But it’s still a lunatic idea.
“Can’t he hire an escort?”
James laughs. “Elliot would be mortified at the suggestion. He’s determined to attend alone, and essentially tough it out. Which is an appalling idea, so that means the only way to persuade him is with a fait accompli.”
“And that’s what I am, is it? Jog on, James. I’m not doing it.”
“Yes, that’s exactly what you’d be.” From the other side of the screen, his eyes laser into mine. “You’d be the perfect companion. You’re known to me, which is essential. That couldn’t be said of an escort, no matter how handpicked. You also have more than a handful of brain cells rubbing together, and I’m confident you’d be discreet. A modicum of attractiveness also helps.”
