Closer by Morning (9 page)

He showered quickly and put on fresh underpants—white briefs—and socks. He dressed in jeans, a blue shirt and a navy pullover. It was a cold night with frost in the forecast, so he chose a pair of brogues and his dark blue tweed blazer. He was meeting his friend for a drink in town and wanted to look good, but not as if he were cruising. He was off the market, at least till he saw how things played out with Dale.

The champagne bar in Durham overlooked the River Wear. On Fridays and Saturdays it was standing room only but Matt arrived just in time to secure a booth and order a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

Conrad came in as the waiter brought the bottle and an ice bucket to the table.

“Have we got something to celebrate?” Conrad asked, sliding into the booth beside Matt. He had also managed to change after work and wore a white shirt and checked jacket.

“A treat, that's all,” Matt said, as the glasses were filled. “I think we deserved it. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked glasses. The champagne was perfectly cold and tasted delicious. Though they often met here—it was one of the most popular bars in town—they rarely splashed out on the fizzy stuff. House wine or happy hour cocktails were more within their budget. But tonight, without Dale, Matt wanted to indulge.

“You look like you've already had a treat or two,” Conrad grinned. “I can tell by your face that last night went well.”

Matt returned the smile. “You could say that. You could also say that it went absolutely incredibly.”

“Come on then. Don't be coy. Tell me everything. What's it like to fuck a movie star?”

Unlike Annabel, Matt knew that whatever he told Conrad would stay between the two of them. They'd been friends for too long and shared too much to let each other down. Lowering his voice to avoid unwanted evesdroppers, he told Conrad about his date, leaving nothing out.

“Wow,” his friend said at the end of the story. “That's some night, you randy bastard. Did you expect to go so far with him?”

“Depends what you mean by far. Sleeping with him—absolutely. My God, Conrad, if you had seen him you would understand why. I've never met anyone before who I found so physically attractive. He's ten out of ten gorgeous. There's just no way that I'd turn down the opportunity of going to bed with him. If it were only a one-night stand, I'd still do it. It was the other stuff I didn't expect. The talking, the intimacy, feeling so comfortable with someone I knew next to nothing about.”

Conrad looked at him closely. “It sounds to me like you've fallen in love.”

“It does, doesn't it? But I can't have. That's insane. You can't love someone after a few days, can you? After only one date?”

Conrad suddenly sang the chorus of
Love at First Sight
. They both laughed.

“Thank you, Kylie, but I don't think that's the case just yet.”

Conrad refilled their glasses. “Until it hits you, how could you know? But I can tell you this, I've never seen you beam quite as much as you are tonight. Whatever Dale has done for you, you look good for it.”

“Thank you.”

“I don't suppose you asked him about helping out with a charity donation?”

“No, sorry. Had other things on my mind.”

“Hmm. I don't doubt that. You'll ask him next time, though, won't you?”

“I'll do my best.”

By the time they had finished the bottle, the bar was heaving. The sound of talk and laughter all around was at a deafening volume. Time to move on. Matt hated it when a place got too crowded. He used to love the crowds and the action. Not anymore. He was getting old, almost thirty, but so what?

They went to another bar on the same road. It was just as busy but, because the venue was more than double the size, it didn't feel so crowded or restrictive. Matt found a place to wait in a quieter corner of the room, while Conrad fought his way to the bar to get them each vodka and Cokes.

It was past nine-thirty. Dale would be with his son by now. He wondered what the boy was like, whether he knew about his father's love life. This would take some getting used to if things developed between them. Matt hadn't been involved with a man who had the complication of a family. Dale had given the impression that things were good between him and his ex-wife, no reason it should be a problem for Matt.

Give it a rest, he warned himself. One night of lust and he was already thinking about the future and relationships. Time to slow down and enjoy things for what they were, one day at a time.

Danny Frost came into the bar after ten. The lawyer was in the company of a couple of other guys. They were about the same age as Danny but lacked his trim physique and outgoing attitude—they looked like middle-aged men, where Danny looked timeless. He wore a tight-fitting black shirt, which not only looked great against his holiday suntan and graying hair, but showed off what great shape he was in.

“Matt,” he greeted, “twice in one week. This is an honor.”

Matt noted Conrad's eyes widen at the sight of the older man and he changed position to get closer. Oh yes, he liked what he saw. Why not? Danny looked incredible. A total DILF. Matt made the introductions and didn't miss the way Danny looked Conrad up and down as they shook hands.

Well, well, he would never have thought of putting these two together. But why not? They seemed to hit it off. Danny's friends were less friendly and made little effort to engage with Matt while Danny and Conrad got acquainted. Eventually he excused himself and went to the bathroom.

He checked his phone. Still no messages from Dale. He had to stop doing that. They weren't teenagers. Dale was a busy man. There was no reason for him to text all the time.

The bar was really heaving now. It was a struggle to get through to the bathrooms. He couldn't be bothered with all of these people. It was a cattle market. He appeared to be the only man in here who wasn't on the make. It would be time to move again soon. Always better to stay ahead of the crowd.

Matt was finishing off at the urinal when a voice behind him said, “Why did you stand me up this morning?”

He turned to find Clint Dexter standing there. Even now, dressed casually in shirt and jeans, off duty, the boot camp instructor was a huge and imposing figure. His brow was furrowed and the set of his mouth could almost be interpreted as a smile.

“Oh, Clint. Hi. I didn't recognize you for a second.” A lie. There was no mistaking him.

“Not up to it today?”

“Sorry, no. I didn't have time. Early start at work.” Why was he lying? He was under no obligation to attend every session.

“Your American friend didn't make it either.” Clint's pale eyes looked directly into Matt's.

“He has a lot going on,” Matt said brightly. “I expect he was busy too.”

“Hmm,” Clint said, folding his tattooed arms. “I saw the news. All that shit about his show. You could be right about him. And your…girlfriend? No sign of her today either.”

“Yeah, Annabel's not really a morning person. I don't think you'll see a whole lot of her. But I'll be there Monday. Bright and early, with bells on.”

“I hope you are. To get any kind of results you have to put the work in. It takes commitment.”

“Like I said, I'll be there.” Clint made him uncomfortable. His tough attitude was great for motivating tired people on the course, but not here when he was trying to unwind. “Better get back to my friends. See you next week.”

“You will,” Clint said as he walked away. “You showed great stamina. You have potential. You could get amazing results if you do the work.”

Conrad was alone when he returned. “Where's Danny?”

“His friends dragged him away. I don't think they liked us.”

“Miserable fucks,” Matt said.

They both laughed.

“He was nice though. I really liked him.”

“I could tell. I think he liked you too.”

“What's his story? He is single?”

“He's single. He hasn't been in a relationship the whole time I've known him. But he's a nice guy. Funny too.”

Conrad raised his mobile. “He left me his number. Said to call him tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Matt said. “Meet for a coffee. See how you get on.”

Conrad smiled. “I think I will. God, I haven't been on a date in ages. Seems old-fashioned in this age of apps and instant sex.”

“It's not that old-fashioned. I went on a date with Dale.”

“And look how
that
turned out. You've really started something.”

It was true. He had started something. And it was something he couldn't wait to continue.

Chapter Eight

In the two weeks since Dale had last seen his son, Jack already looked different. He was twelve years old and growing fast.
Too fast
, Dale thought. He was missing out on so much. Even when he and Laura had been together he was never around as much as he'd wanted to be. Location shoots and long working days had made him miss out on much of Jack's childhood.

And pretty soon he would be a man. There was already a hint of shadow on his top lip. Not yet a teenager and he'd be shaving soon enough.

It struck Dale afresh every time he saw the boy after a period apart—that sense of loss for everything he was missing.

Saturday morning Dale took Jack shopping in Newcastle. He'd have liked to have shown him around Durham. There was so much to see in the old city. They even had a castle. But there was too much heat in Durham. Too many angry residents with an ax to grind against the TV show. No way was he going to expose his boy to any of that.

Only half an hour up the motorway, Newcastle was far enough for him to feel safe with his son.

Still, he was taking no chances. Ordinarily his face wasn't famous enough in the UK to prevent him going about like a regular Joe, but that was all before this week. He'd been in every local paper since Wednesday. He couldn't to run the risk of being recognized. Not with Jack.

He downplayed it in jeans and a thick winter sweater, his hair and brow concealed beneath the low peak of a baseball cap. Just like any other dad taking his son out for the day. Except not many regular dads wore caps around here, not like in the States anyway, but it was the most incognito disguise he could think of.

Jack said he needed a new pair of boots for playing football. Laura had warned him about spoiling the boy, but hey, when he only saw him for a couple of days a month, he had the right to spoil him.

“Dad, can I have an iPhone?” Jack asked as they walked through the mall. The soccer shoes were already in the bag, together with a new England sports kit and a stopwatch.

“Don't push your luck,” Dale said. “You've got a phone already.”

“But it's crap.”

“What's the matter with it?”

“It's not an iPhone. Not even a smart phone. It's a crappy pay-as-you-go handset.”

“You can make calls, can't you? Send texts?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then it's good enough. Your mother will go ape over all this soccer stuff without me sending you home with a new phone.”

“Can we go to Starbucks then?”

Jack reminded him so much of himself at that age, though he couldn't remember being quite this confident or outgoing. It was like looking back in time. Jack was the double of him. He had the same blue eyes, same jawline, same nose. His hair was a much paler shade of blond but Dale had been the same as a kid, darkening in his mid-teens to the color it was now.

“What do you want?” he asked, as they entered the coffee shop.

Jack ordered an oversized iced coffee, topped with a mountainous serving of whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Dale rolled his eyes. Just as well the boy had inherited his love of sport. He'd be the size of a house if he didn't work that shit off.

“Does your mother let you have drinks like this?”

“As if. She won't even come to Starbucks,” Jack said. “I'll find us a seat while you wait.”

He's got me wrapped around his little finger
, Dale thought affectionately. Things would be different if he was a full-time dad, but he wasn't, so here they were buying three hundred bucks' worth of sports gear and eight-hundred calorie drinks.

“Why are you in the newspapers?” Jack asked when Dale joined him.

“What?”

“Over there.” He pointed to a guy across the café, reading a folded newspaper. On the flip side of the page there was Dale. They'd used a picture from one of his old rom-coms. There was also a photo of Roxanne on stage.

“It's nothing,” Dale said, sitting down. “Just something to do with the show. Drink your coffee.”

“So are you properly famous now?” Jack asked wide-eyed. “Hardly anyone at school knows who you are.”

“Sssh. That's the way I like it, so keep your voice down.” He hoped he could shield Jack from the worst of the
Blood Falls on Stone
controversy. That was one of the perks of him
not
having a smart phone. He couldn't follow that shit on social media.

“Wouldn't it be cool, being recognized?”

“Not today. Or any day. Being famous isn't important, Jack. It's doing a good job that matters.”

“Chris Coleman says he's seen one of your films. He says you got chopped up with an ax.”

Dale started, staring at his son. “You haven't watched that movie, have you?”

“Got nothing to watch it on, have I? I'm not even allowed a computer in my bedroom.”

“Good. You don't need to watch movies like that. They're too frightening.”

“
Frightening
?” Jack laughed. “I'm not scared of cheesy horror films.”

“Cheesy, eh?”

“According to Chris Coleman. He said that film was
soooo
bad it was funny.”

“Spend a lot of time with Chris Coleman, do you?”

“Not really. We're in some of the same classes but he's a bit of douche. He's the only boy in school who's heard of you, that's all.”

Dale's eyes widened. Nothing like the honesty of kids to keep you grounded.

****

Matt spent a quiet morning at home. Last night's drinking had left him with a heavy head. He stayed in bed until nine-thirty. After a week of very early mornings it was a luxury to sleep late. He woke from a sweet dream about Dale and rolled over to inhale his scent from the pillow. The smell was beginning to fade but was still there.

He put on a pot of coffee and set some bacon under the grill while it brewed. He checked his phone for messages. There was one from Dale. He smiled as he read it.

Hope you had a good time last night. Have a great day. Can't wait to see you again
.

He keyed a fast reply.

Suffering slightly this morning. All my own fault. Have a great weekend with Jack. Looking forward to tomorrow night
.

Matt made a bacon sandwich and put it on a tray with a pot of coffee. He carried it to the living room. He turned on the TV and he entered ‘Dale Zachary' into the Netflix search field. There were three results. Top of the list was
An Axe in the Dark
. The gory horror movie. Probably not the best choice for Saturday morning breakfast. He added that one to his viewing list for later. The other two were romantic comedies. He selected the most recent, a title from 2013, and hit play.

The movie was dreadful, even to the most undemanding viewer. A young fashion editor was caught in a romantic tangle with a rich designer and a penniless hot dog vendor—Dale. Despite his lowly status and the contrivances of the script, it was obvious from their first scene together that she was going to end up with the hot dog guy.

Who wouldn't? Wow. He was gorgeous. Sometimes the most attractive people can fail to come across that way on film. Dale wasn't one of them. The camera loved him. Especially those sparkling blue eyes of his. They lit up the screen like an old fashioned matinee idol.

Clean-shaven, he also looked a lot younger. The beard he currently wore gave him a rugged maturity, but without it there was something very cute and boyish about his face. He must have been around thirty when this film was made but didn't look anything like it.

It was a strange experience, watching him romance a woman on screen. There wasn't a second of realism in this hokey film but Matt felt an unexpected stab of jealousy when it came to Dale's passionate love scene with the leading actress. He understood what it must be like for the husbands and wives of famous people to watch their spouses pretend to be in love with other people. Weird.

Stop being ridiculous
, an inner voice warned. He had never been the jealous type and wasn't about to start now with a bad romantic comedy.

The movie was blessedly short at eighty-five minutes. When it was over, he realized he had the whole day ahead of him and nothing planned.

He washed up and changed into his running gear. A decent jog would make up for the workout he had skipped yesterday, not to mention all the booze he'd consumed in the last forty-eight hours. The phone rang as he was fastening his shoes. It was Conrad.

“Guess what?”

“You've got a hangover?” Matt joked.

“Yes, but not the worst ever. That doesn't matter. This is way more exciting.”

Conrad's voice was full of glee. Matt felt happy for him, knowing what he was about to say. His best friend had a tendency to take life too seriously. He admired him for his commitment to the charity work but often wished Conrad would take a time out for himself now and again.

“Don't keep me in suspense.”

“I called Danny Taylor. That guy from last night.”

“I know who he is. I introduced you.”

“I got his number but he didn't get mine,” Conrad continued. “So he said he hoped I would call. If I didn't he was going to get my number from you. But he didn't have to 'cause I called him anyway.”

“Conrad, get to the point. You're rambling. Are you meeting him this afternoon?”

“No, I can't. Got a committee meeting about our next fundraiser.”

“It's Saturday afternoon. Who the hell books a meeting for then?”

“I did,” he said, sounding defensive. “It's the only time everyone is free. But I'm not doing anything tomorrow, so Danny and I are meeting for coffee in the afternoon.”

“Thank God for that. Shit, Conrad, you need to strike a better balance between your work and personal life.”

“Charity isn't work.”

“Then you deserve a medal. An MBE. A bloody knighthood.”

“That'll do for me.” He laughed.

“As long as you get a shag. Man, you're
way
overdue a good time.”

****

Matt ran up into the hills above the town, heading in the opposite direction to the boot camp route. He needed variety in exercise to keep it interesting. It was another cold day but thankfully dry. The ground was hard underfoot, making the going a little easier.

He tuned out as he ran, allowing his mind to roam as freely as his body. The stresses of work were forgotten. Even Dale Zachary took a back seat for a while. The time was his own and he enjoyed it.

He paid little attention to the figure in gray running clothes keeping pace behind him, fifty yards down the track. The figure looked like any other runner, hood pulled around their face to keep out the cold. It may just have been coincidence that the runner was using the exact same route.

But the eyes inside the hood were focused intently.

Watching.

Keeping pace.

Following.