Ollie Always (13 page)

He chuckled. Luke and Jonas.

They didn’t go bowling, he assumed, while they were staying with Ronnie.

But then he pictured turning up in any bar with the Quentin Crisps of the literary world.

“Seriously, Ollie, come back to Earth and tell me we’re talking about only the theoretical here.”

Ollie nodded distractedly. He was trying to decide what to wear. What said author on research trip whilst also saying slightly gay guy who was, in fact, very sad and very lonely?

They began to jog once more.

His knees started to make odd clicking sounds. When his personal torturer didn’t seem to notice—was deep in his own very angry thoughts, if that scowl was anything to go by—Ollie mentioned it obliquely. “I’ll go into town today and buy some running shoes. Anything you’d recommend?”

“Yes. Me coming with you.”

Ollie frowned. He got the distinct impression that although he’d asked about a trip to try on trainers, Tom had answered another question—one asked earlier, and much more interesting. It was a puzzle. Then he remembered azaleas and decided he was imagining it and asked a little waspishly, “Think I might sneak off for a cake binge?”

Tom gave him an annoyed glance and didn’t reply.

He seemed mired in dark thoughts.

Good.

Ollie began to plan his wardrobe for the evening’s very exciting excursion.

He wondered idly what Oliver wore when he went out for gay sex.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

By the time he’d showered and had a short lie down to recover from all the physical exertion, it was nearly lunchtime. The others were debating whether to eat at home or go down to the town. Ollie took the opportunity to accost Luke, and by offering him some wine got him alone outside.

“I have an idea for my book.”

Luke’s brows rose. “What book?”

Ollie copied the expression. “My novel?”

“The one you’ve
been
writing since you went up to Cambridge?”

Ollie gave him an annoyed look. “Anyway, I’m going to write it about a guy who thinks he might be gay and decides he needs to conduct a dating experiment. He makes a list of all the kinds of guys he thinks there are and then works his way down the list on a series of disastrous dates.”

Luke had his thinking face on: a slightly pinched-nostril-staring-at-the-sky-with-concentration expression. “I like it.”

Ollie felt absurdly pleased, as if he’d been given a gold star for neat handwriting.

“So, anyway, I need to start conducting some research and I thought—”

“Oh. That’s…What does Tom say about that?”

“Who? What? Why—?”

“I thought you two were—”

“Christ. Tom is
married
.” Then he added, because it occurred to him he should have said this first, “I’m
not
gay. I keep telling you this. That’s Oliver, remember? So, do you know any bars in town that I could go to…to meet men? For the
book
.”

Luke gave him a very odd glance. Ollie began to rise with an exasperated sound of irritation, when the other man straightened and said hurriedly, “Sorry, only…dear boy, what century are you in? Have you heard of…the internet?”

Ollie plonked down again. “A dating site.”

“Absolutely. They do exist here in this benighted little country, you know.”

“For men? A gay site?”

“Well, I sincerely hope the chap we met was gay or he might have wondered what on Earth we were…anyway, yes. Try
the man shed
.”

Ollie had an instant vision of tools and snorted. Luke smirked but then sobered. “Have you spoken to Ronnie about this?”

“She probably already has Oliver dating in Nelson. His site will probably be
power tools
.”

Tom appeared, hovering at the end of the patio, clearly trying to overhear their conversation. Luke smiled graciously and slid up the bench they were sitting on. Tom accepted the invitation and came over, dropping down heavily and propping his chin on his fists, staring at his feet.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, until Luke said, “You can’t go out tonight, anyway. Ronnie is making her big announcement.”

Ollie, who’d been gazing at Tom’s profile and making up a dating bio for him, jumped slightly.

Tom lifted his head and snapped, “You can’t do this
at all
.”

Luke twisted around theatrically to give Ollie a brows-raised, very bitchy, silent, “
Oooh
.”

Ollie twitched his nose, but before he could defend his big idea, or attempt to explain why a married man should apparently find his dating proposal so unpalatable, Tom elucidated, “It’s dangerous for one thing, and it’s totally unethical for another.”

Luke made a face as if he’d just sucked on a sour boiled lemon sweet. Tom didn’t take the hint, reiterating determinedly, “You’d be deceiving people. Tricking them. These are real men. Not characters you toy with in your damn books. They have hearts and souls.”

“And they’ll have beautiful Ollie, too—compensation enough for a little deception, don’t you think?”

“Shut up, Luke.” Ollie regarded Tom thoughtfully. “It’s what
he
would do, isn’t it?” It was exactly what Oliver would do. The reason he hadn’t done it yet was probably down to the fact that Ronnie didn’t do computers.
Yet
. Ollie wouldn’t put it past her to learn if she thought Oliver ought to.

Tom closed his eyes briefly and leant back. “Yes. Exactly.”

“What who would do, darling?”

Tom straightened quickly, and Ollie felt immediately guilty as Ronnie drifted elegantly from the sliding glass doors, drink in hand. Luke, apparently not at all bothered by Ollie’s chastisement, announced grandly, “Ollie’s got a date.”

Ronnie’s gaze shot immediately to Tom, but he was once more studying the slight flaw he seemed fixated on with his shoes. Ollie followed his mother’s glance and regarded Tom’s lowered head as he heard her say, “Well, I’m glad you got that silly married business settled. But you can’t go out tonight. I’m having a little celebration here—to tell you all some rather good news.”

Ollie gritted his teeth, and as Tom still hadn’t lifted his head, corrected stonily for both of them, “Not with
him
.”

Ronnie’s brows lowered a tiny fraction—she didn’t approve of facial expressions. “Not with Mr Collins? How droll.”

She took a sip of her drink, her eyes boring into the top of Tom’s skull, which he appeared to feel, because he lifted his eyes to her and seemed to answer a question she hadn’t asked. “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea for Ollie to go out with someone he’s never met and knows nothing about. I tried…he mistook…he’s…” He trailed off, as if apparently only then remembering that the subject of their interesting discussion was sitting right next to him.

Ollie nodded as if Tom had made a very good point in a debate, then threw in, “Go on. He’s…what?”

His mother interjected, “Don’t be like that, darling. Mr Collins is simply looking out for you, I’m sure. Because he’s your
friend
, aren’t you, Tom?” She paused with her perfect dramatic timing until Tom returned her gaze, and then she finished, “And even with this total debacle, surely we can think of a way to keep Ollie safe. Oh, here’s one—you go with him.”

Ollie spluttered, laughing slightly, although it really wasn’t all that funny, but before he could remonstrate with this idea, she waved her hand, sloshing her drink a little. “With Letty. A double date.”

“I am not ten years old! Why is everyone treating me as if I were?”

There was silence around the small group, Ronnie lighting a cigarette, Luke now also finding Tom’s shoes fascinating, and Tom—Tom was looking at him with a sad expression.

Fuck that
. He turned to his mother. “You sent me to Munich on my own when I was ten! For a cultural weekend with some men you’d met at a book launch. What sort of men go to book launches about psychotic, nymphomaniac ten-year-old boys who learn German so they can seduce their language tutor? What sort of weekend do you think I had, Mother? I coped. I coped then, and I think I can cope going for a drink with a guy in Queenstown! Even a Kiwi. I meant even for research purposes.”

“Who’s doing research?” David with Leticia in tow, rounded on them from behind the barbecue pit. Ollie wondered briefly if she’d had more success in the azaleas than he had.

“Oliver. He’s going to write a book about gay dating in the age of the internet.”

Before Ollie could challenge Luke on this distortion of his theme or on the irritating misuse of his name, Tom suddenly said, “Shut up! All of you! This is such…crap! Leave him alone!”

Ronnie made an uncharacteristic sound in her throat, almost a growl, and Tom suddenly rose and pushed past her heading toward the house. Ollie had never seen anyone, ever, push past his mother. He rather enjoyed it.

Before he gave way to the temptation to follow Tom and question him some more on what
he
apparently was, Ronnie patted her hair, in a very studied and slightly overly dramatic gesture, and murmured, “Well,
Oliver
, I suppose I should tell you now. Seeing the mood is already charged.” She perched on the edge of a chair and gestured for David and Leticia to sit too, then said to Luke, “Do fetch Jonas for me, that’s a good chap.”

Ollie felt he was about to be given bad news and suddenly blurted out, “They’ve sussed you! You’re not going to get published anymore!”

Ronnie gave him a clipped smile so sharp at the edges it actually cut him. “No, don’t be silly, darling.” Luke returned with Jonas in tow. “It is news about Oliver though. He’s going to Hollywood. The Oliver books are going to be turned into a film. Isn’t it the most wonderful news?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Tom was in the kitchen. He was staring morosely inside one of the cupboards at Ollie’s stash of shortbread. For one moment, Ollie worried his drug of choice was going to be confiscated and destroyed, but then he got that it was about to be shared. He watched the emotions flick over Tom’s perfect face and went closer, gently closing the door. “Tea?”

Tom was clearly too mired in his own bitter thoughts to know what he wanted, so Ollie made some anyway. They were English. Tea never went to waste.

Tom fished a carrot out of the fridge and sat at the counter, considering it with a similar expression to one Ollie might have worn had anyone suggested tea and a carrot to him. Ollie pushed the hot drink over. “Sugar?”

Tom looked up sharply, as if he’d been stabbed. Then he got the teasing and smiled ruefully. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m beginning to understand why you’re so screwed up.”

“Should I say thank you or fuck you?”

There was a bit of a pause at this, as they both appeared to be digesting the various ramifications of the fuck you. Ollie sighed. “I told you not to stay here. I did warn you.”

Tom nodded but then added as if his thoughts had been running along this track all along, “So you’re really going to do it?”

Ollie raised an eyebrow. “I’m going out for a drink, yes. Is that really so…beyond comprehension? So outrageous that I need psychotherapy? Why are you so against this? It was your idea to start with!”

Tom sipped his tea and didn’t reply.

Ollie narrowed his eyes at the lowered head and then slid off his stool and went closer. So close he could lay his hand over Tom’s holding the cup and slide his other one onto Tom’s lap. “Tell me the real reason.”

Tom, predictably, leapt back, scalding them both as the hot liquid slopped over their joined hands. Ollie nodded as he sucked the burn, glaring at the other man. “I thought not. So, fuck off and
leave me alone
.”

Tom surged forward, grabbing Ollie’s upper arms and propelling him back against the fridge. What he meant to do with this burst of testosterone, however, was lost when they heard voices right outside the kitchen door.

“Sweetie? Oliver?”

Tom reared back as quickly as he’d done when Ollie had approached him. When Luke and Jonas came in with a laptop, he was back at the counter, biting savagely into his carrot. Thinking about the vicious ravishing of that little vegetable, one tiny sliver of Ollie was very grateful that nothing further had occurred between them. The vast majority of his being, however, was silently screaming in regret that it had not.

Predictably, Luke had found the
man shed
or whatever the Kiwi dating site was called, and even more predictably, Jonas had already registered Ollie and made up a fake bio for him.

Luke, apparently oblivious to the tension in the room, gave Ollie a meaningful hug as if he was about to go to Afghanistan and be a war hero. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Ollie hadn’t been, up until about two minutes ago, but now his resolve was somewhat bolstered. The carrot wasn’t looking so good however.

§§§

In the shower, getting ready for his date, Ollie had plenty of time to mull over the ramifications of Oliver becoming even better known than he was already, of his own life being dissected once more by the press and, perhaps more importantly, his name being recognised by every single person he’d ever meet. Now they’d not only know a fictional Oliver Fitzroy in a set of literary novels, they’d also have an actual face to put to a name. He’d become confused with a real person, because the actor chosen to star in the film would inevitably be blended with Oliver. He wondered if there were any James Bonds in the world, and if they were actually spies, how that affected their day-to-day lives. What about Jack Reachers? Imagine meeting someone called Dorian Gray. Of course, it would be far worse for the real men if they were nothing like the actors chosen to play their namesakes. If they weren’t tall, for instance…

Secretly, Ollie was hoping Keanu Reeves might go for playing him.
Oliver
. He wouldn’t mind people pointing out the similarities then. But Ronnie would have to age her baby sociopath, which Ollie assumed she might have to do anyway. He’d recently read a book where the lead character was about eleven, and had raped and murdered his way to a throne. In the film, he was an adult, and the impact of his juvenile delinquency was sadly lost. Hollywood would never go for seven-year-old bondage scenes, even if they had been written with
deceptively jejune narcissism
. It was so deliciously fucked up that Ollie felt light-headed. Then he remembered he was still in detox, and was most likely simply suffering still from sugar withdrawal. That thought inevitably led him to thinking about the things he’d deliberately not been recalling. Tom and the azaleas, and Tom and the carrot.