Chapter Eight Jingle File

chapter eight

Jingle File

Rick trudged back to his flat, bitterness and betrayal eating him inside out.

As if having seen Derek, on stage, receiving his standing ovation after performing the best Rick had ever seen hadn’t been hard enough, but to leave the theatre drowning in his loss only to bump into Jayden stumbling out from Inferno. That had really taken the biscuit. The fucking gingerbread house!

Because Inferno !

The gay nightclub haunt in Soho. Seeing him there had struck Rick so hard, as if dealt an actual physical blow to the head. Jayden had changed from the hoodie and beanie he’d worn for their date, which in hindsight hadn’t been a date, into a shirt that clung to his svelte, toned form like a second skin, pure white snowdrops glittering in his dark hair. He looked so damn striking. Mesmerising. And Rick had halted his steps, as if the frost had seeped into his bones to freeze him to the spot.

But then the realisation that Jayden had been in Inferno, having said he was going home, cracked him back to reality. Because if Jayden had been in Inferno looking the way he had, then a hook-up had undoubtedly occurred. Rick knew what it was like. He’d been in there before. Simeon was a regular! It was now clear that the reason Jayden had ditched Rick was to go clubbing. Cruising . Because he hadn’t wanted Rick. He’d wanted someone else. As Rick should have expected. All confirmed when the pink twink had leapt on him and kissed him.

Rick felt sick.

Angry.

And so damn hurt .

Jayden owed him nothing, though. He was simply a colleague. He might have flirted. Maybe he was using Rick’s better nature and obvious attraction to him to get what he wanted out of him. The way Derek had. At least Rick hadn’t put his heart on the line for Jayden. Hadn’t lost his entire career, spanning decades for him. Rick had the chance to keep his head held high this time.

And high it would be.

He let himself into his flat, the patrons at the corner pub spilling out into the snowfall, and shook his head to rid the flakes and dispel the image of Jayden’s stunning smile aimed at someone else. Because it crushed him. Felt as though he’d opened a fresh wound and tipped salt into it. Like the lasting tracks of Derek’s treachery, worming its way into his already torn heart and eating through the leftovers to leave him hollow.

God, he was dramatic.

What would one expect after his years on stage?

He closed the communal door, the distant sounds of chatter chasing him up the stairs into the solitude of his flat. Inside, the walls seemed to close in on him, darkness amplifying every sound. Without wanting to prolong his suffering with his usual poison of choice, he went straight to his bedroom and flopped down onto his king-sized four-poster. The world continued to make light of his situation as Simeon’s nightly activities, already in full swing, drifted through their shared wall—muffled moans, rhythmic thuds and the crying out of his name in the throes of blinding ecstasy. Whoever he’d picked up was having a jolly good time of it next door.

Rick dragged a pillow over his head, pressed it over his face to drown out the relentless soundtrack of someone else’s pleasure with soft goose feathers. Or maybe this would put him out of his misery and he’d suffocate? Silver lining?

Sadly, he didn’t.

But he got some sleep and Sunday arrived like a sledgehammer to the head. At least he didn’t have to get up for work today. The mall, owned by a highly Christian family, closed on Sundays and gave Rick his only day of rest. But, if he was honest, he would have preferred to get on with things rather than wallowing away in his flat like he’d done the last year. Having had a reason to get up the last week had given him a purpose.

Or, more likely, it was because he’d enjoyed seeing Jayden.

He sighed. Losing something he’d never had somehow squeezed harder than a loss of a lie. But he had a life to live. And realising he had nothing in the way of food in his cupboards, he resigned himself to a supermarket trip on a Sunday. He should send some Christmas cards to his family in Yorkshire before the postal cutoff, too. So he dressed, wrapped up for the cold, and opened the door to his apartment, only to be met, once again, with Simeon opposite him, unclothed except for small briefs and a pair of slippers, kneeling to pick up his Sunday paper delivery on his doormat. He was the only one in the complex who had their paper delivered to his door rather than his postbox on the ground floor. He tipped extra. Apparently. Rick was sure it had nothing to do with the paperboy.

“Rick!” Simeon smiled as he stood and leaned on his doorframe as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have a conversation on the sabbath with the outline of his freshly used cock straining the luxury cotton small enough to be a jockstrap.

“Simeon.” Rick flicked his scarf around his neck as if him being more clothed might make up for Simeon’s lack thereof.

Simeon tucked the paper under his arm. “Do hope we didn’t wake you this morning.” He peered back into his apartment. “Young fellow has stamina.”

“Couldn’t hear you at all.” Total lie, he’d forever be hearing “Oh, fuck, Sim, there, fuck me, fuck me!”

“No?” Simeon grinned. “Must try harder next time then, eh?” He flicked the paper to tap Rick’s chest with a churlish snort. “So what’s this new role you have? Something good? Juicy? Something I can take this one on a date to?”

“Didn’t think you dated.” He knew Simeon didn’t. He hadn’t ever seen the same bloke twice.

“I could make an exception for this one.” Simeon angled his head into his apartment, then lowered his voice. He licked his lips as if lapping up the remnants. “Picked him up at Inferno last night. Wants to be an actor.”

Rick’s chest squeezed. No. No, please, God, no.

“So where is it you’re performing? Could I bring him along?”

“Not unless you would like him to sit on my lap.” Rick tugged on his gloves, then descended the stairs, leaving Simeon to ponder whether he would.

As he bolted out into the street, pavement glittering with settled snow from last night, every step he took was heavy with the weight of his own existence. Simeon, with his veneer of opulence and empty encounters, Derek with his lies and manipulation, now Jayden with his youthful tease, all underscored the starkness of Rick’s cold reality.

He was lonely.

Lonely this Christmas.

As he was Last Christmas…

But this year he was playing Santa.

How ironic.

* * * *

Jayden flipped his mobile phone between his thumb and forefinger, undecided whether to use the thing or not.

Sat at his desk, textbooks open with the promise he would spend his day off researching or at least making a start on his dissertation, he was failing on both tasks by having not written a note or even highlighted a sentence. Despite the topic interesting him— how performing in drama and theatres improves self-confidence and cognitive development, leading to better educational outcomes for children in care —he couldn’t focus on it.

Because all he could think about was Rick .

Rick. Rick. Rick.

And the look on his face when he’d seen him outside Inferno.

He wanted to text him. Say something about it. But he couldn’t find the words to explain. The fear of rejection kept him at bay. If he sent a message, or God forbid even called him, and Rick didn’t reply or answer, it would feel as wretched as abandonment. Jayden had had enough of people casting him aside, tossing him back, deciding he was too difficult, not cute enough, or just plain inconvenient to keep around, to set himself up for another rebuff. It was why he rarely sought relationships. They were difficult. Messy. Hard work. And always ended in bad blood.

But something about Rick had him wanting to explain . To try.

That was the conflict between his rejection sensitivity and his need to please. He always had the urge to fulfil the needs of others before his own. It was down to the overwhelming desire and wrenching ache to be wanted .

Maybe it was daddy issues.

Regardless, he hated that Rick might believe he’d left him last night to go clubbing. At least in person, he could explain what happened. It was better to wait until tomorrow at work rather than send a lengthy message, though. No matter how agonising a wait it was. If he knew where he lived, he’d go there right then. But he didn’t. All he knew was Rick had a flat in Soho. He couldn’t knock on every door, no matter how his needy, insecure attachment issues wanted him to.

Focus, for fuck’s sake. At least highlight a piece of text!

He couldn’t.

His stomach growled. Hunger was also a constant issue. Especially now he had zero money until payday.

He trudged out to the kitchen, checking the fridge, freezer and cupboards for any leftover food from the other residents who’d buggered off home to be stuffed to the brim with Christmas goodies by their parents. Amazingly, he discovered a tin of spaghetti hoops with a sell by date suggesting it had belonged to one of last year’s cohort, and a lowly frozen sausage that had fallen out from its packet. That was a Michelin starred meal as far as Jayden was concerned, and he cooked them both to settle his stomach when Nita called.

“Been waiting all day for the gossip!”

Jayden sat at the round kitchen table, twelve vacant seats surrounding him. “Not much to tell.” He shovelled in the spaghetti hoops, crossing his fingers he didn’t get salmonella for Christmas.

“You had a date with Rick Thornton! How did it go?”

Jayden ruffled his hair. “The date was good. Great. He’s charming.”

“Charming? God, what are you, a woman in the Fifties?”

“Fuck you. We went to a basement wine bar, shared a bottle of red.”

“Oh, sorry, my mistake, you are a gay man in his fifties.”

Jayden laughed. “It was nice. We talked about the theatre. A bit about me…”

“Why do I detect a but? And not that you got butt fucked. Cause I reckon you’d sound happier about that.”

“I left the date.”

“Why?”

“Cause I couldn’t afford another round where we were.”

“Why didn’t you go to Wetherspoons?”

“Rick Thornton? The Rick Thornton? In a Wetherspoons? That’s like me at a Reform rally.”

“He must know you’re a student, right? He can’t expect you to fork out shit loads for one drink. Sounds a bit pompous if he did. Or clueless.”

“No. He didn’t— I left. Said let’s do it again.”

“Okay…so why do you sound like it was a misfire?”

“Because he then saw me outside Inferno.”

“Why were you outside Inferno?”

Jayden paused. “Aaron.”

“Oh, fuck, Jayden! No !”

“It wasn’t like that. He called me, and I went because he needed me.”

“What did he need?”

Another beat. “Money.”

Jayden could hear the eye roll without having to see it. “You gave him money? My money?”

“It was for something good. Something to help him.”

“Sure.”

“It is.” He couldn’t tell Nita why, she wouldn’t understand why Aaron was hiding it. She didn’t roam in their circles. As much as she was an ally and a good mate, she had no frame of reference for what it was like being a looked after child.

“Does that mean you have no cash?”

“No.” He winced. “I don’t suppose…” God, he hated asking. Loathed it. He was supposed to be independent. Having had it drummed into him from the age of fifteen when he’d landed in the halfway care home, it was second nature to go it alone. To not rely on anyone else. Taking part in sessions on budgeting and cooking and all those skills people needed to be an adult in the world on their own, he knew how to make his money stretch. Yet in twice as many days, he was asking his mate to bail him out.

“I can’t. I asked my dad for that fifty quid to buy presents because I wanted to celebrate this year. So now I actually need to buy them all something and I’m at the end of my overdraft, too.”

“Sorry, Nits.”

“It’s fine. Look, I don’t like saying this, but I know you don’t have many people watching out for you, so I’m gonna have to risk your wrath.”

“Go on.”

“Aaron’s not good for you. You’ve been doing so well. Don’t let him drag you down. You’ve got next year to think about. What happens next? Time to be elfish, perhaps?”

Whilst Jayden nodded appreciatively at Nita’s use of elf pun and how she meant well, it didn’t stop his fierce loyalty to Aaron who, through no fault of his own, had a shitty upbringing and a barrier around himself to repel people in case they got too close and he had to endure the pain of having them ripped away again.

Jayden, of all people, knew how much that stung.

“I hear you, Nits. But Aaron doesn’t have anyone either. Who’s saying all that shit to him?”

“You could do something great with your life. You have a chance . And now the world has given you a glorified, and hot , theatre actor taking you on expensive wine dates. This is good for you. He could help you. Aaron can sort himself out.”

Jayden pondered that. “I didn’t go out with him because he can help my career.”

“No?”

“No.” Jayden feared that came out as unconvincing as he’d felt it had.

He never assumed anyone would help him out of the kindness of their heart. Not unless there was something in it for them. Something was always in it for them. The foster carers who’d taken him received payment for their troubles. His social worker was on the payroll. Even the few boyfriends he’d had wanted something in return—usually for him to bend over. But brought up with no family support, it never entered his head that someone might want to give him a boost up for nothing more than a shared love of the same thing.

“Maybe you should go out with him because of that.”

“If he was still in the theatre, he wouldn’t be playing Santa at a shitty mall.”

“Oh yeah, did you find out what happened?”

“No. It didn’t feel right to pry. But whatever it was, it had to be pretty bad.”

“I’m going to do some digging!”

“Don’t, Nits. If he wants me to know, he’d tell me.”

What had happened to Rick, like Jayden’s background and Aaron’s past, was private. It was for them to share with a privileged few. Hopefully, Jayden might become that privileged person for Rick. But he wouldn’t if he pried, or if Rick thought he was using him to get a leg up on the career ladder.

Tomorrow couldn’t come quick enough now.

“Okay, fine,” Nita said. “You play it by ear .”

“Is that an elf pun?”

“I’ve been looking them up. There’s a whole double page spread in Cosmo .”

Jayden snorted. “See ya, Nita.”

“Laters.”

Jayden cut the call, then washed up his pitiful plate of questionable sausage and spaghetti hoops, and closed himself back in his room.

He didn’t bother doing any of his research for his dissertation. Instead, he watched Rick playing Iago in Othello on YouTube again. Then revelled in a little elf-pleasure.

It was very elf-satisfying.