Page 4 of Commitment Issues
“Thanks — I think.” I’m not sure whether being informed that I’m just about above brain-dead level and not completely pug ugly is an insult or a compliment.
“This is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
James’ mouth turns downwards, and for a moment he seems uncertain, something I’ve not encountered before in this urbane and confident man.
“Elliot’s as sharp and savvy as they come, and he can be hard as nails. At least when it comes to business. But he took a hit when his turd of a boyfriend walked out. The turd who will also be at the wedding celebrations. The turd who is the second best man. Elliot needs armour if he’s going to get through it unscathed, and that means not going into battle alone. Think about it. I can’t force you to agree, but I hope you will. But I need to know by tomorrow. Oh, and by the way, you’re not expected to sleep with him. Or not unless you want to.”
The screen on the phone goes black as James cuts the call.
* * *
“Was this your idea?” I back Cosmo into a corner in the kitchen.
Cosmo shrugs. If I expect some kind of guilty embarrassment or contrition, I can expect it until I’m blue in the face.
“Jimbo,” he says, referring to James, who is the least like a Jimbo of anybody I could ever imagine, “called me yesterday and asked if you might be persuaded to help out. Given your, erm, straightened circumstances, I thought it was worth a punt. A bundle of cash, and a few days in the Mediterranean sunshine, I’d jump at it, but it wasn’t me he asked. Shame, because Elliot Hendricks is mouthwatering. For an older guy.”
Older?
My stomach tightens. Older guys… they’re my jam, my Achilles heel, the pusher of every single one of my buttons. And I’ve vowed to stay away from them ever since… a shiver rips through me. I don’t want to think about what happened, ever again, the last time I’d got involved with anolder guy.
“You’d no right to let James know money’s tight.” I push the words out through gritted teeth.
“Tight?” Cosmo’s mouth drops open in shock. “The only thing that’s tighter than your finances is a nun’s snatch. Or maybe not,” he says, shuddering.
Planting my hands on my hips I take a step closer. It’s a frankly pathetic attempt to intimidate him, and a waste of time. Cosmo might stand at a less than lofty five foot five, but a man doesn’t walk the earth who’s less likely to be intimidated.
“Coffee?” He swings around me, picks up the jar of instant on the worktop, and gives it a shake.
“What? No. Yes. Oh, whatever. Don’t try and change the subject. Why’s your lunatic cousin asking me to sign up to this crazy scheme of his? It can’t just be because I could do with the money.” Cosmo knows my financial state as well as I do. He’s my friend, but also my landlord, and I’m late with the rent. Again. It doesn’t bother him, but it bothers me, and my face throbs with heat. “I don’t even know him that well.” My words sound weak and limp.
“You know him well enough.” Cosmo smirks.
“Yes,” I say, as I glare at my friend, “if you count him trying to talk me into bed every time he turns up here. Which I’ve always managed to sidestep, I should add.”
“Which is probably one of the main reasons why he’s asking you to do this. If you were easy, I don’t think he would have.”
“I don’t understand.” Not the not being easy part, I get that because Cosmo thinks I’m prudish. He puts it down to me growing up in East Anglia. No, it’s the whymepart.A posh wedding and a swanky villa in the South of France isn’t what you’d call natural territory for a twenty-four-year-old Norse Studies PhD student. Which involves a lot more than leather working and pottery making techniques.
“It’s because he’s crazy protective of Elliot. They’ve been friends for years, so he’d have thought hard about who might be suitable. Which isn’t me. Shame, I’d be very happy to help out the very lickable Elliot in his hour of need.” Cosmo switches on the kettle and heaps coffee granules into two large mugs. “Biscuits? Custard creams or Bourbons? Or we might even have some Hobnobs.” He turns and rummages through a wall cupboard.
“What? Lickable? You mean likeable. But how likeable he is isn’t the point. And no, I don’t want biscuits.”
“You sure? But Hobnobs are your favourite. Well, after Wagon Wheels.”
I don’t bother trying to hide my bone deep sigh of frustration.
The pair of us have been friends since university, when we met in Freshers’ Week. Well, I was scared but Cosmo was just — well, Cosmo. I’ve had plenty of time to get used to his sudden changes in direction and random utterings, but they still manage to throw me. But they’re not going to this time, despite the offer of coffee and Hobnobs.
“Stop talking about my biscuit preferences. Why would my refusal to sleep with James make me an ideal candidate to be his friend’s bogus boyfriend?”
The kettle, belching steam, switches off with a click, but Cosmo doesn’t fill up the two waiting mugs. Instead, he leans back against the counter, crosses his arms over his chest, and stares at me. At first glance, you’d never spot that Cosmo and James could be related, or not until you look into their eyes. Only then does it hit you. The same mossy green, the same cool, feline assessment.
“In his view, it means you have integrity and aren’t easily swayed. That you have a mind of your own and you do what you think is right. Cousin Jimbo, for all that he’s partial to shagging anything with a pulse, would respect that. He’s asked you because he’s an excellent judge of character. He trusts you. Simple as.”
“So, I’m supposed to be impressed that hedoesn’tthink I’m an easy lay? Talk about damning with faint praise.”
Cosmo doesn’t answer, as he pours the boiling water into the mugs and slops in milk.
