Blowing It (20 page)

“No, it’s not a bad thing. I like you, Becky. If I
have to take a friend instead of my partner, I’d choose to take you.” Perhaps I
was stretching the truth, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I
did
like her. “Besides, you’ll probably get more from going than Magnus ever
would.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she admitted
guiltily. “These award things… it’s all about networking, isn’t it?”

“Playing the game.”

“Exactly. I mean, we could turn this to both our
advantages. Make the best of a bad situation.”

“You’re saying you don’t mind that Max is orchestrating
our private lives?”

“It’s not like we don’t get on,” she countered. “And
what’s the point in hating it? It’s not like that will get us a reprieve. I say
we beat Max at his own game.”

“How?”

“I haven’t worked that out yet,” she admitted. “But
there has to be some way of getting one over on him.”

“Even if it means pretending to be my girlfriend?”

“Well,
we
know it’s not true. What does it
matter what strangers think?”

She had a point. I’d never been the sort of person
who cared what others thought, so why was I letting this get to me so much? So
what if people I’d never met got the wrong idea about my life. But then, I’d
had that attitude when I was living honestly. Playing along with Max and Becky
felt like a deception—worse, like I was the one being duplicitous. Being the
only out kid in school had been rough. Had I really gone through years of
torment, struggling to be myself only to give it up again? What did Becky
really know about how that felt? It was no skin off her nose to pretend to be
dating me for the sake of the media. It wasn’t
her
identity being erased.

“I don’t know if I can,” I said at last. “I’ve
spent my whole life fighting to be who I am. Going back on that now feels so
wrong.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like you have a choice. We have
to go along with it whether we want to or not, so why not get something out of
it?”

 “Because at least if I fight it, however
ineffectually, I still feel like I’m being true to myself. I don’t want to roll
over and accept that I don’t get a say about my own life.”

“I’m not saying roll over and accept it,” Becky
protested. “I’m saying the exact opposite! Instead of throwing a temper
tantrum, fuck them from the inside.”

“I don’t throw temper tantrums,” I said snippily.

She tossed her head. “Whatever. Why not make the
most of a bad situation?”

“Because I’m not sure Magnus will understand.” That
was my biggest worry. If he saw me in the papers parading around with Becky,
how would he feel? I knew he was hurt, although he was trying to contain his
reaction in front of me. If I went along with the whole charade, wouldn’t I be
twisting the knife?

“Then explain it to him. He’s bound to feel better
if he knows you’re getting something out of it.”

“Which is what, exactly? I can see the benefit to
you, but how does this help me?”

She shot me a cold look, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve
already told you I don’t want to make a name for myself off your back. I don’t
want people speculating how I got the deal if I ever get signed to a publisher.
It’s a risk I’ll take because I don’t think most people really care one way or
another who either of us are going out with, and being with you can open some
useful doors for me. On your side, clearly Max thinks you being gay is a
problem, or he’d never have arranged this. Don’t you want to be successful,
Owen? Why risk something as big as the Carnegie over some nebulous principle?”

“It’s not a principle. It’s
who I am
,” I
retorted.

“And nobody’s making you change. Max isn’t telling
you to dump Magnus or have therapy to make yourself straight. All he wants is
for you to keep it quiet, and I don’t remember seeing you doing any interviews
where you were out and proud before. What difference does it make?”

I couldn’t explain my misgivings. I couldn’t deny
she had a point: nothing in my personal life had to change, and I’d never
wanted to be the sort of person who let everything hang out in public anyway.
But it still felt all kinds of wrong to betray Magnus like that. To deny his
place in my life, however indirectly. I liked who I was, and I loved being with
him. Being with Magnus felt so right, I was loath to do anything that might
ultimately damage what we had.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Conscious of keeping Magnus informed of my pretend
dates with Becky, I called him when I got in, hoping we’d get to see each other
that evening. Hearing the weariness in his tone when he answered, I immediately
scrapped that plan. The firm he worked for had just taken on a new client,
accepted more jobs than he felt they had capacity to manage, and agreed to a
shorter turnaround timescale to boot. I made sympathetic noises as he
complained about his workload doubling.

“Can they do that?” I asked incredulously. “Surely
if they’re going to take on more work, they need to take on more staff to
manage it.”

Magnus laughed humourlessly. “You’d think. But
we’re struggling to stay afloat as it is. Half our competitors have gone bust
since the credit crash. Construction’s struggling all over.”

“Yeah, but surely there’s always insurance claims?”

“If only. Between people cancelling their policies
to save money, only making larger claims because they want to avoid paying a
huge excess, and taking the cash when they do get a settlement, we’re
struggling. I’m getting busier at the front end, but very few of the surveys I
do actually convert to work for our trades. If things don’t pick up soon,
they’ll start looking at layoffs.”

“That sucks.”

“It really does. I know these guys, Owen. I’ve
worked with them for years. I’ve gone for drinks with them, met their families,
been to weddings and christenings. They’re my mates.”

“It isn’t your job to keep them employed,” I said
softly.

“No, but they’re still depending on me. The faster
I turn the surveys around, the more work comes in for them.”

“You sound shattered.” I tried to keep from
sounding too reproachful, but it worried me how hard he was working. “How many
hours did you spend driving today?”

“About six.” Magnus sighed. “It won’t last forever.
Once the pilot with this client is over, things will settle down again.”

“Until the next new client,” I pointed out.

“It keeps me in a job, Owen. It might have escaped
your notice, but I don’t have many other options in this economy.”

“I’m not criticising,” I said, stung by the
sharpness of his tone.

“No, sorry. I’m just stressed.”

“I wish I was there,” I said.

“I wish you were, too. But I’ve got to get these
reports done within twenty-four hours, and there are some queries about the
reports I submitted yesterday, and—”

“I get it,” I said gently. “I’m not pressuring you.
We can go a day without seeing each other.”

Guilty silence answered me.

“Magnus?”

He cleared his throat. “It might be more like two.”

“You need to work late tomorrow?”

“Yeah. It’s probably for the best.”

“Okay.” I tried not to be hurt. I wasn’t so needy I
couldn’t give him space. “What about Friday night?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Come to mine?” I suggested. “I’ll get some food in,
and we can veg out in front of the TV.”

Magnus groaned. “That sounds like Heaven.”

When I disconnected the call, I was smiling.

҉҉҉

On Thursday morning, a quick Google of my name
produced the expected images of me and Becky picnicking in Victoria Park, this
time on a gossip news website. Noticing the story had been picked up by some of
the major outlets, my lip curled in disgust. When I saw them quoting a series
of tweets sent between my account and Becky’s, I almost threw my laptop at the
wall. It was one thing the occasional picture appearing in a newspaper and
people misconstruing my relationship with Becky, another entirely for Max and
Katy to be publicly confirming we were an item.

“Fuck ’em,” I groused, disconnecting my laptop from
the internet before I did something I’d later regret. Opening the outline for
my third novel, I tried to concentrate on that instead.

I was still frowning at a mostly-blank screen on
Friday afternoon. I knew why I was stuck: I wanted to write the story I’d
always envisioned, queer characters and all, but I didn’t think I’d even get an
outline hinting at that resolution past Max, and while nobody would be coming
out as anything other than extraterrestrial in this book, the overall story arc
needed foreshadowing, which meant deciding what direction I was going to take
the series in. Unfortunately, every time I tried to plot the story I knew I was
supposed to write, I found myself blocked; even my outline seemed stilted. What
if I couldn’t do it? What if the series ended up tanking because I was forcing
it to be something other than I’d always planned? The fear crippled me.

The phone ringing provided a welcome distraction,
more so when I saw Magnus’s name on the screen. “Hello, handsome,” I answered,
dropping my voice a couple of octaves and talking breathily.

Magnus chuckled. “It’s a good thing you’re not on
speaker.”

“Is someone there?” I asked, reverting to my normal
voice.

“Don’t worry, they didn’t hear. Listen, Owen, I
might be struggling to make it tonight.”

“What? Why?” My good mood from simply hearing his
voice dissipated. “Is something wrong?”

“I had a bump with the car—nothing serious, don’t
worry, but it’s set me back a couple of hours.”

“What happened?” I demanded, distressed despite his
assurances.

“Some idiot drove into the back of me. I’m fine,
but because it’s a company car, I had to report it immediately.”

“How’s your neck?” I asked, concerned now.
“Whiplash is a real thing, you know. Maybe you should go to hospital and get
checked out.”

Magnus laughed. “Owen, I’m
fine
. It was
barely a tap. Honestly, I think he came off worse than me. Besides, whiplash
doesn’t start straight away. Ask me on Sunday how I feel.”

I grimaced. “It’s not funny, Magnus. You could have
been seriously hurt!”

“Well, I wasn’t,” he said consolingly. “Right now
my biggest problem is the surveys I was going to.”

“Cancel them,” I said. “It’s not your fault you
were in an accident.”

“Try telling that to the client,” he grumbled. “We’ve
still got to meet our timescales, or there’s a financial penalty.”

“Which means what?”

Magnus sighed. “I’m going to my last one now, but
I’ve missed two with the holdup. I’m doing one tonight and one tomorrow
morning.”

“But it’s
Saturday
,” I protested. “You don’t
work weekends.”

“I do when my boss says I have to.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“I agree, but there’s nothing I can do. I’ve
already had the argument.”

“He can’t
make
you work out of hours.”

“No, but he can make my life miserable if I don’t. I’ve
got to do it, Owen.”

“So you’ll be late tonight?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s better we rearrange.”

“But we haven’t seen each other all week,” I
protested.

“I know. I want to see you, you know I do. But I’m
booked for a survey in Epsom at seven thirty and by the time I get done, go
home, grab a change of clothes, and get to you, it’s going to be gone ten.”

“So?”

“
So
, then I’ll have to be up at six to get
to Leatherhead by nine in the morning. I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“I’m sorry you don’t think I’m worth seeing,” I
said coldly, hurt and upset by his inference.

Magnus made an exasperated sound. “I didn’t mean
that, Owen. You know I didn’t. Don’t twist my words.”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

“Well, maybe you should listen better,” he snapped.
“Christ, you think I wanted this? This week has been one thing after another,
and right now all I want to do is collapse on your sofa and not move ’til
Monday, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t need you making me feel like crap on
top of everything else.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just disappointed. I was
looking forward to tonight.”

“Me, too,” he said fervently. “What about tomorrow?
I’ll have to go into the office once I’ve finished the survey in the morning,
but I should be done by four at the latest.”

“I’m supposed to go out with Becky tomorrow night.”

“So cancel it.”

“It’s not that simple,” I protested. “Everything’s
set up now.”

“For fuck’s sake, Owen, it’s a pretend date. What
does it matter?”

His language surprised me. “It matters because it’s
my career, Magnus. No different to you going on those surveys out of hours.”

“It’s completely different,” he snapped. “I’m not
pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“I thought you were the one who said it wasn’t a
big deal.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was telling you what I thought
you needed to hear,” he said grimly.

I clicked my tongue in exasperation. “What’s that
supposed to mean? You can’t say you understand why I have to do this, then
fling it in my face whenever you get pissed off. Would I rather be with you?
Yes. Do I wish I could tell Max and Katy to take a running jump?
Yes
.
But you were the one who convinced me it was only for a couple of weeks and it
wouldn’t be a problem for us.”

“That was before you started cancelling our dates
to go out with her.”

“I’m not the one who cancelled,” I said sharply. “I’d
tell you the same thing whether I was seeing Becky tomorrow or Ryan. The only
reason you’re making a big deal of this is because it’s her.”

“Can you blame me?”

I bit my lip to stop myself from retorting that
yes
,
I did blame him. I didn’t understand why he was getting so bent out of shape
over me seeing Becky again when he knew I’d rather spend the time with him.

“I’m going out with Becky tomorrow,” I said firmly.
“I’ll call you on Sunday, and we can see if we have time for each other.”

“Owen—”

“Goodbye, Magnus.”

I disconnected the call and tossed my phone angrily
against the sofa. It bounced across the cushions and landed on the floor with a
dull thud. I didn’t even care if I’d broken it. “Fuck him,” I said out loud,
then repeated myself with increasing volume. It wasn’t fair of him to try to
guilt me like that. He knew, he
knew
I hated what Max was doing, that
I’d choose to be with him in a heartbeat if I could, but I found myself
resenting the way he’d assumed I’d cancel my plans at the drop of a hat for
him. What if it had been Ryan I was going out with? Would he have assumed I’d
cancel that as well? Isn’t that exactly what Carl had done, dictating who I spent
time with and where I went? Magnus hadn’t seemed controlling, but I’d be damned
before I ended up in another relationship like my last. If nothing else, didn’t
the way he expected me to understand when his work demanded more of his time,
but refused to acknowledge the validity of mine, speak volumes? Maybe going out
for dinner and picking and choosing my own hours to write at home was a cushy
way to earn a living, but it was still
work
, dammit. Work which paid a
damn sight more than Magnus’s stupid job.

Shame flooded me that I’d entertained such a
churlish thought. We’d both worked hard at our respective careers to get where
we were, and how could I expect him to respect my job if I didn’t respect his? I
had no idea the sort of pressure he was under, the impact of the banking crisis
on his industry. I’d never read beyond the headlines proclaiming the
construction and housing markets dead. That he had a job at all was probably
testament to his dedication to his employer.

And what did it bode for our future as a couple
that one bad week was enough to have us sniping at each other, scoring points
like petty children? Sighing, I crossed the room and picked up my phone. Thankfully,
it wasn’t broken. Unlocking the screen, I tapped out an apology. I wasn’t going
to back down about meeting Becky, but I wouldn’t sit back and let it ruin my
relationship, either. When Magnus responded instantly, declaring himself to
have been the one in the wrong, I felt even better. He wasn’t Carl, and history
wasn’t repeating. After promising to see him Sunday, I returned to my desk and
got back to work.