Loving Jay Part 4

"Well, then, I won't be upsetting you too much by telling you the bosses have redone the forecasts. Again."

Chan slumped in his chair and looked at the ceiling. "Aw, f.u.c.k! You are s.h.i.+tting me!" Despite his Asian features and name, Chan sounded more Australian than most other Australians. He'd grown up in Sydney and had moved to Perth for work.

"Nope!" I sounded upbeat despite the bad news and the need to redo two days' worth of work. "I started on my figures an hour ago. I've uploaded my data for the three projects that are going to affect your figures for the Grayson Project and I'll let you know when I have the Two-Fours ready to go. It will probably be around midday. Okay?"

"s.h.i.+t." Chan was not impressed. "You sound f.u.c.king glad about the news. What has got you happy-happy this morning? You get laid last night or something?"

I choked. "Jeez, Chan. A little decorum in the office, if you would please? The last thing I need is HR busting my nuts." BHP tried hard to instill and execute a tough, non-bias workplace. There were antidiscrimination policies for every move we made. But they were still a mining company and the blokey-blokey atmosphere prevailed from the mine site all the way up to our offices on the fifteenth floor of their city skysc.r.a.per. In the three years I had worked here, I had seen women come and go within the department. Not that they were hara.s.sed or anything; it's just they got fed up with language and the fight to be taken seriously by men who believed they should be home having babies. They hacked it for a while and then left. It was unfortunate, as it created an even more male-dominated atmosphere.

"f.u.c.k HR. I wanna find out what you are so stinking happy about. You get a promotion?"

"No."

"New job?"

"No."

"Win lotto?"

"No."

"Get laid?"

"No. Eff off!"

"b.l.o.w. .j.o.b? Hand job?"

"No. Shut up and get to work."

"Hot date?"

"Maybe. Now will you leave me alone?"

Chan grinned now that he'd weaseled it out of me. "Hoo-ee. Liam has himself a hot date. Who is the chicka-chicka?"

"No one you know. Now shut up and do some work. I need your data on the Timber Mine before I can finish off. I'm headed out to get a sandwich." I stood up and slipped into my jacket, making sure I had my wallet and pa.s.s card to get back in the building.

"Is she smokin' hot? Does she put out? Is she into kinky stuff? Give me some details to chew over before you go!"

"No."

"Oh, come on! Throw a dog a bone! What does she look like? Is she stacked? Redhead? Ethnic? What?" Chan was practically begging. I took pity on him. What did it matter if I let a couple of hints drop?

I imagined Jay and smiled fondly. "Tall. Blond. Great mouth. Athletic. The tightest a.r.s.e you ever saw."

I saw Chan's jaw drop. "Du-ude. You are my G.o.d."

"Shut up!"

MY PHONE stayed silent all the next morning, so I turned up at the cafe at three minutes before ten. I'd left before Chan arrived so he couldn't get me all riled with questions about my "mysterious girlfriend." I imagined his reaction if I told him that my date was actually another guy. Chan would never speak to me again.

I chose a table and sat down to look at the menu. One of the great things about starting work so early was that I missed the lunchtime rush. I was trying to decide on noodles or rice, when Jay rushed in and took the chair opposite me, talking nineteen to the dozen and worrying himself into a flap.

"Oh my Gawd! What a morning! It has been atrocious! You don't know what I had to go through to get here this morning. I hate crowded trains. I had to stand up, which is just terrible. My feet ache and these boots are pinching me. And then some old man-I mean he was old like in his forties or something-decided to pinch my a.r.s.e on the train. Like right there on the train. I felt like screaming at him like an outraged virgin but there were some scary gangster dudes that I didn't want to meet, so I just glared at the old geezer. And d'ya know what he did? Do you? He just grinned at me like he was a great catch. Oh my Gawd! Liam! You should've seen how badly this guy was dressed! As if I would ever go for him. And then-then!-as I am trying to get off the train he puts his business card in my back pocket and tries to cop a feel!"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I seem to recall someone else doing that with a twenty-dollar note."

He shrugged and waved his hands around. "But that was different. You are an attractive guy. I'm an attractive guy. There is no ick factor. This guy is like my dad's age!"

"Do you still have his business card? Do you want me to track him down and beat him up?"

"Gawd no! It was like totally gross! I had to get Tara to remove it from my pocket because I didn't want to be infected by it. I told her to get rid of it and she told me she put it in the sanitizer-bin-thingy in the ladies toilets. I reckon that's what he deserves."

I screwed up my face at the terrible image. "Jay! Lunchtime! Don't gross me out."

"Sorry!" He waved his hands about again, turning up the panic b.u.t.ton as he rushed to tell me, "And then I get into work and Suresh is doing a fantastic job, which I just hate. I mean, like what if I am disposable or something? Maybe Harry will get tired of my pansy a.r.s.e and fire me. Maybe Suresh is better. Maybe Suresh wants my job and will deliberately sabotage the show next time I'm on. Maybe he will try and poison me. Maybe I am not as good as I think. Oh my Gawd. I'm terrible. I suck at my job and I'm going to get fired, and then I will be broke and have to live with my mother forever. And then-"

"Jay!" I leaned over and grabbed one of his waving arms, squeezed his hand tightly, and brought it down to the table. I spoke in a calming manner; he was so upset it was making me upset, too. "Settle. Breathe." He stopped and clutched at my hand as he obediently took a deep, shuddering breath. "Focus. Calm. Are you focused now, Jay? Yeah? Okay. Just breathe and relax. Breathe. It's okay. No one is going to be firing your pansy a.r.s.e. Remember you told me Harry said he loves you and can't do without you? And Suresh already has a job. He was just filling in for you to help you out. Now just relax and let it all go. It's all going to be fine."

I watched, amused at his antics as he closed his eyes and deliberately drew in big, deep breaths. He straightened his spine and rotated his shoulders like he was centering himself before a session of yoga. I smiled. He was beautiful. A little nutty, but beautiful. Thankfully, I liked nuts.

The waitress came by just then. "Are you guys ready to order? Drinks?" I glanced down at our clasped hands on the table. Jay was still breathing and clutching at me so I didn't pull away. Who frickin' cared what the waitress thought?

"Umm. A c.o.ke for me would be good. Jay? What did you want to drink?"

Jay opened his eyes, blinking as he focused on me. "Huh?"

"Drink? Liquid in a gla.s.s? Lunchtime, remember?"

He became fl.u.s.tered. "Oh, yes. Drink. Do you have any pure fruit juice? Orange? Pineapple? Not that sugared, 35 percent stuff. And don't even look at it if it is 25 percent! I need pure, unsweetened juice. Prepared just the way G.o.d meant it to be. And not a berry juice. I need a fruit juice like apple or pear, not cranberry or goji berry or whatever the latest berry flavor is. And water. I need water. Do you do table water? I really don't want a whole bottle. But it has to be chilled. And not with ice either. Just cold from the fridge."

Entertained and exasperated by his att.i.tude, I pulled my hand away from his grip to cover my mouth. Jay couldn't just order a plain drink, could he? The waitress left to fetch our order and I handed Jay the menu.

"Feeling better? Now pick something to eat before she gets back, will ya?"

He took the menu from me but covered his face with his free hand. "Oh, Gawd! I'm such a drama queen, I know! I'm sorry. Just slap me."

I leaned forward again, pulling his hand away from his face so I could see his eyes. "Jay! No one is slapping anyone. It's fine. Just focus, okay? Pick a dish, and then you can let it all out as we eat. It can't be good for your stomach keeping all that bottled up inside you."

He blew out a breath. "Right. Focus. Food. Right."

He studied the menu and we managed to order when the waitress returned with our drinks. Of course, Jay's order went more along the lines of, "I'll have number thirty-five, please. But no capsic.u.m-it repeats on me something terrible. And just a little bit of soy sauce, not a lot. Don't overpower the dish. I really hate when all I can taste is soy sauce and nothing else. And tell the chef I love broccoli, so if he wants to throw a little bit extra in for me, I would be most appreciative. Most appreciative. And baby corn, too. How do they grow baby corn, do you know? Mmm-me neither. I'll have to google it when I get back to work and find out. Google is a great tool, isn't it?"

I just shook my head and waited for the poor, bewildered girl to leave before asking, "So how did your Granny's appointment go this morning?"

I smiled at his "Oh. My. Gawd!" and settled down to watch and listen. I laughed and groaned through his step-by-step recital of his morning's commotion. Our food arrived just as he was describing his grandmother's conversation with the doctor. "And then she says to the poor guy, 'I don't think my waterworks are running as they should be. Do you want a look?' And before the guy could blink or swallow, she has her skirt hiked up around her waist and her underwear down. I swear I saw more than any grandson should ever have to see! I flew out of that room like there was a nest of snakes crawling across the floor and I tell you, Liam, my poor eyes will never recover."

I think I snorted fizzy cola through my nose as he surveyed me with a sad look. "It's not funny. I think I am scarred for life. Even if I had ever wanted to see a v.a.g.i.n.a, I'm sure I would've turned gay on principle from that episode."

I think I had tears in my eyes from laughter and I wiped my face down with the paper serviette. The conversation had given me an opening I'd wanted. "So you've always known you were gay?" I asked, curious about his ability to live out of the closet.

"Pshaw, man! It's more like I had to realize that everyone else wasn't gay. I've never had to tell anyone."

"So your family accept you?"

He shrugged and picked up another piece of broccoli with his fork. "My dad took off when I was a baby, so it's just my mum and my two older sisters. And as I said, I never had to tell anyone. Who do you think bought me my first tube of lipstick? My mum remarried for a while, and my stepfather was a bit of an a.r.s.e about it. He tried to get me to be more masculine by making me play football and slipping me some light p.o.r.n magazines and stuff. But he gave up after a couple of years. Then one day a letter arrived from the courts. Dearest stepdaddy was required to give a DNA sample to prove whether he was the father of a six-month-old girl."

I winced. Ouch. What a jerk!

"So Mum chucked him out. There's never been any problem for her."

The next question was a little delicate. But we were friends, right? Friends asked questions and got answers all the time. "So, do you have a boyfriend at the moment?" I congratulated myself on how smooth that came out. The sentence had just the right amount of curiosity in it without sounding jealous at all.

Jay just shrugged. "Gawd, no, man. No one puts up with my inner drama queen. I can keep it down for the first couple of dates, but then something happens and it bubbles to the surface and he never calls me back. Obviously the guys I am attracted to are not interested enough to put up with me." He stared out the window and frowned at nothing. "Either that or I'm really pathetic in bed. Maybe that's why they dump me. I've never considered that before."

I shook my head at his train of thought, half expecting him to go off half-c.o.c.ked, so to speak, on the subject of relations.h.i.+ps or how to properly break it off with someone. But before he could open his mouth, his bling-encrusted phone began to beep. He'd placed it on the table beside him when he'd sat down and told me that he needed it near in case Suresh needed him in an emergency. I glanced down and saw the name "Suresh Sangwal" flas.h.i.+ng. It looked like an emergency had happened after all.

Jay answered with a cautious, "h.e.l.lo?" He listened for a moment before screeching, "Oh my Gawd! No! Definitely not! Get him off!" His eyes opened wide and he paled. He threw a look in my direction before saying to Suresh, "I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm running down the road as we speak." He grabbed his bag. "I've gotta go, Liam! Harry needs me!" And he was gone.

I watched him fly down the footpath, dodging in and out of pedestrians. I shook my head, laughed at the drama, and admired his taut a.r.s.e in his red jeans. The guy was a complete flake and I was totally in love with him. I smiled and pulled his half-finished meal toward me. I was in love with him, and I didn't even flinch at the thought. He'd left me with the bill and I couldn't care less.

The waitress appeared at my elbow. "Is everything okay, sir? Is your boyfriend alright?"

I didn't even mind her mistaking Jay for my boyfriend. I was actually quite proud that she thought I could attract someone so gorgeous. "Work emergency. He's fine."

She smiled in relief. "He's a bit... odd."

I laughed out loud at her. "Yeah. He is. But he's gorgeous-inside and out. You just need to weather the dramas to see it sometimes."

Chapter 6.

IT TOOK him a couple of hours to remember what he'd done. When I got back to my desk I plugged my earphones into my computer and streamed the PQ Program off the Internet as I posted journals in the accounting system.

It seemed that Harry had interviewed an indigenous ex-football legend on the program that morning. From the comments flowing in, it seemed as if the footballer had alleged racism by the umpires in a recent game where the local team lost by a single point. Football fans from both teams were flooding the lines, defending their players.

I listened in, smiling as I envisioned Jay sorting through the mess.

He messaged me on my phone during the afternoon, while I was traveling home.

How p.i.s.sed off at me are you?

I laughed and texted back. Only mildly. You owe me twice over now. How is Harry?

I sat staring at my phone, waiting for the reply. I didn't have to wait long. I sent Harry home with a bottle full of Prozac. I owe you twice as in two meals? Or owe you as in you will call me if you are ever arrested for public indecency along with a gay man wearing no pants?

He remembered my comment from that second day? I was completely charmed. I hurriedly answered him. I have brothers for bail, so it looks like it has to be the meals. Unless you are planning on running again?

He replied back with a single word. a.r.s.ehole.

Two could play that game. d.i.c.k. I pressed the "send" b.u.t.ton and left the train. I was on a later train that day, so I had to share my journey with obnoxious teenagers. I moved around the dawdlers and had to dodge traffic as mums came to pick up their children from the train station. I felt the buzz of a message, but waited until I was in my apartment to check.

I was glad I did. I glanced at the screen and all the blood in my body rushed for my c.o.c.k, leaving me feeling light-headed and wobbly legged.

Yes, please. Are you offering yours?

Immediately came the vision of Jay on his knees in front of me while I offered my d.i.c.k up for his inspection. His thorough inspection. My phone buzzed again in my hand. Jay again.

OMG! Delete that last message! I have trouble remembering to behave around straight friends. Are we still friends? Or are you going to deny me my mocha as punishment?

I shook my head at his hysterics. Drama Queen. I can handle the teasing. See you in the morning?

I was jerking off in the bedroom when he replied. See you in the morning.

RAIN POURED down and rivers had formed on the roads by the time Jay arrived at the train station the next morning, resplendent in tight black pants and a hot pink s.h.i.+rt under his black suit jacket. Winter in Perth is dark, cold, and depressing, but Jay provided a rainbow of relief in my day.

"Whoa! Check out the pink! I think I need my sunnies," I teased as he approached. He stuck his tongue out at me and opened his suit jacket to reveal a black satin waistcoat and plain black tie.

"Whaddaya think?"

I grinned at him and pa.s.sed him his mocha. "I think you look like a blond John Travolta off Grease. Didn't he wear pink at one stage? I can remember laughing over his pink socks. Please tell me you don't have pink socks on!"

Jay gave me a coy look and pulled up his cuffs. I closed my eyes in resignation. How utterly Jay-like-black socks with hot pink hearts. He laughed and grabbed his drink.

The train pulled in and we boarded. "So why so spiffy today, Jay?"

He groaned. "Big meeting over yesterday's debacle. The big bosses will be there."

"So what went so wrong with yesterday's interview? I thought all that attention was good for the radio station?"

"Two things-firstly it is the wrong type of attention. We had people turning up at the station, throwing racial insults at the staff. Stupid, huh? Like it was their fault one guy expressed his view during an interview. The second problem is the rest of the interviews we have lined up for the week. Now we are in the middle of a hot item, so all the interviews I worked so hard to line up for the next three days need to be canceled and rescheduled while we line up the hot item. It is a major nightmare. Some advertisers had booked ads at certain times to coincide with certain interviews. The sponsors aren't happy; the interviewees aren't happy; the bosses aren't happy. A total s.h.i.+t storm. And they will be throwing out orders left, right, and center."

As it turned out, Jay wasn't the only one in a s.h.i.+t storm. My day took a huge downturn at midday when someone discovered an error on a report. Someone had missed a decimal point, making forecasts and budgets wrong all over the place. Chan and I had forty site managers breathing down our necks to check their reports and redo them.

My supervisor was having troubles of his own and just looked at me and said, "Overtime. Paid. Don't argue." He then found a spare person who was not busy and sent him out for coffee, Danish, and pizza-all on his business credit card. I rubbed my aching leg and got back to work.

At 6:00 p.m. I told Chan I was seeing double and packed up. I limped to the train, fought my way through the crowd, and managed to snag a seat after three station stops. My leg was killing me and I was looking forward to a couple of hot packs and some extra-strength ibuprofen. The journey seemed to take forever, and each shudder of the carriage sent pain up my spine. I gritted my teeth and began to sing songs in my head, a distraction technique I'd learned in physio.

Finally c.o.c.kburn Station appeared and I limped off, pus.h.i.+ng through the pain with each step. At the top of the escalator I paused against the wall, and allowed the peak-hour commuters to pa.s.s me by. The sun had already set and they were all anxious to get home to their dinner and warmth. I psyched myself up to walk the rest of the way. It was about thirty meters to the train station entrance, and I made it painfully.

At the entrance I paused for breath, distracted by a commotion happening nearby. Three men surrounded another, bailing him up against the station's brick wall, and shouting at him. People stood nearby waiting for connecting buses, watching the scene but not interfering, some with their phones out taking pictures, some with their phones to their ears. I hoped they were calling the police.