Page 52 of Out of the Shadows
DANIEL
For the rest of the week, I bury myself in work. It’s an effective avoidance tactic, and one I’ve honed well over the years.
I used it when Geraldine and I were together, almost, I think, without fully realising what I was doing. Not coming home until late in the evening, it was easy to do because she worked even longer hours than me, if that were possible. She understood, and there was never any pressure on me, which made avoidance easy. It was the same sorry story with just about every girlfriend I had before her. Claiming tiredness, when you start work before seven in the morning then don’t walk back through the door till at least ten at night, was legitimate.
My head’s a mess. At work, I can block everything else out — or mostly — but when I’m at home, when I’m on my own, it all comes flooding back. The heat, the passion, and the way my body lit up, making me, for a brief and blinding moment, feel more alive than I ever have before. I relive it, over and over, and all I can do is find frantic hot and sticky relief as I lie alone in my bed and imagine his lips on mine, his hands cupping my arse, the way he wrapped his hand around my hungry, swollen dick—
I slump back in my chair and rub my eyes in a futile attempt to erase the memory. But it won’t be erased, because what happened with Cosmo has seared its way through me, to the very core of who I am.
Who I am.
It’s not only what happened with Cosmo’s that’s been eating me, it’s what Geraldine said. Over a couple of hours, and a couple of bottles of wine, she stripped away the layers I’ve wrapped myself in since I was old enough to know without acknowledging.
So yes, my head’s a mess but if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I can’t gather up all those layers and fold them back around me, tighter than ever. They’ve not only been stripped away, they’ve been cast into the wind.
A burst of laughter passing by outside my office pushes me out of my unsettling thoughts. The laughter’s followed by a quick tap on the door and Fiona pops her head around it.
“A few of us are off to The Grenadier, if you’re interested?”
I glance at the clock on my computer, surprised to see it’s almost six o’clock. For a second I’m tempted to ask if Cosmo’s going but I bite back the question, and shake my head.
“No not tonight, but thanks Fiona. Have a good evening and a good weekend.”
Almost as soon as she’s gone, I regret my actions. What have I got to look forward to? An evening at home alone, except for Wallace who spends as much time as he can asleep in his basket. I push myself up from my desk and reaching the door I grab the handle, but I don’t turn it. No, I won’t chase after them.
I concentrate on work, making myself block everything else out but it’s not long before the need for caffeine calls.
As soon as I arrived here I got rid of the nasty instant coffee and had a proper machine installed in the little staff kitchen, and the quickest and easiest way to get there is to take a shortcut through the main office.
At just after seven o’clock, everybody’s left. Chairs are pushed under desks, and computers are switched off. Except one. The light in the corner of Cosmo’s screen is blinking. He’s not shut it down and that’s a major breach of protocol.
I tap a key to bring the screen to life, ready to log out and turn the machine off. A website fills the screen. No personal surfing of the net, it’s a rule that’s flouted secretly and not so secretly, and what I’m looking at is as personal as it gets.
It’s a well-known recruitment agency for banking and finance positions in the City and beyond, but it’s not the only one Cosmo’s been looking at, because there are several tabs for similar agencies.
“What the hell?”
I scroll through. Lists of jobs Cosmo could do with his eyes closed. Some have been highlighted. There’s a noise outside the office and I spin round, but it’s only the cleaner pushing his trolley along the corridor. I turn back to the screen and as I do I notice the desk drawer is open slightly; I glimpse what looks like a CV inside. Without any thought, I pull open the drawer.
A paper copy of Cosmo’s CV, covered in scribbles and notes, lines crossed out and others scribbled in with his large, untidy handwriting. There’s also a draft covering letter, again with crosses out as new and better lines take their place.
“What are you doing? That’s personal.”
Cosmo’s standing in the doorway to the office. His eyes are wary, his face blank.
“What’s this?” I hold up his CV and the letter.
He shrugs, and wanders across. “You know what it is. And yes, I’ve beenseeking a new opportunity, as the job ads say, during work time. Guilty as charged. I should be banged to rights. Why not sack me on the spot?” He plucks the papers from my fingers, twists around me and logs out of the website and the computer.
“Why are you looking for a new job?”
He rolls his eyes and, yes, I deserve that.
“Why do you think?”
Cosmo glowers at me. He doesn’t look much better than he did at the start of the week. His skin’s too pale, the shadows under his eyes are too dark, the tight frown on his forehead is too deep. It’s like looking in a mirror.
He slumps against the side of his desk, as though all his strength has drained from him. There’s no sign of the over-confident, downright infuriating but undeniably captivating man he so often is; that light’s been doused and I have no option but to own up to the sickening knowledge it’s me who’s done that to him.
