Page 14 of Compulsion

“London’s a big place,” Jack said, his voice steady. “Max isn’t some kind of walking A to Z, Louis.”

Louis laughed carelessly, placing his pale, elegant hand over Jack’s dark one. He was a much better actor than people gave him credit for; I expect only I noticed how tightly his fingers closed on Jack’s. “Of course, yes, it’s a huge city, and Max was only passing through, right?” He grimaced at me, apology in his eyes. “Stupid of me. I didn’t mean to… anyway, people, this is my chance for the big time, isn’t it?” He wriggled out of Jack’s grasp, shaking his blond curls and seeking the attention back from the others clustered around us. “No time for dancing! I’m sure Grace will have me reading Stanislavski rather than Maeve Binchy every evening. I’ll have to sneak ten minutes away just to call home and weep about my boredom. Now, has anyone seen my denim jacket?”

“Whereabouts were you in London, man?” Harry was peering at me from under a straggly jet-black fringe. “Gotta fuckin’ love the vibe up there.”

“London?” One of the Vs peered at me, her head on a level with Harry’s elbow. “You’re so lucky. I’d love to go there. Were you working? Did they replace you? If you know someone and could put in a word for me….”

“No,” I said. She blinked hard so maybe I’d pitched my tone too sharp. “I don’t know anyone there anymore.”

“Let’s get going, everyone,” Jack said, his hand on the front door.

“Bob, Bryan, was my jacket in the kitchen?” Louis called overloudly. “Help me find it, will you?”

They were doing a brave job, running interference for me.

“I’ll go and get changed,” I said. “I’ll be ten minutes.” No one replied, but Jack stepped to the side so I could dash up the stairs. As I pushed through the door of my room, all I could hear in the hallway was a long sigh from Louis and Bryan’s open-mouthed crunching of the tortilla chips.

THE casual drink out with friends didn’t go so well, or maybe it was just me. We ambled down to the prom again and, deciding we were hungry for a proper meal, sat down at one of the seafront fish and chip restaurants. It was warm enough to stay outside under the flapping red awning. The smell of chips covered in salt and vinegar was familiar and comforting, and we all tucked in apart from Louis, who picked at a chicken salad, continuing to chat and entertain us with stories of the TV actors off set. The gulls cried overhead and a couple of kids shrieked at each other on the beach, playing catch with a bunch of damp seaweed fronds. Music from a jukebox wafted out the open door of a nearby amusement arcade. But the group had lost some of its liveliness. Harry had dropped both the swearing and the quotations, and Bob and Bryan couldn’t find anything more interesting to bicker about than how much ketchup Bryan should or shouldn’t put on his double saveloy and chips. The Vs met up with a couple of other friends and drifted back out on the pavement, making plans for the rest of the evening. Obviously whatever one did, they all did. They were very sweet.

And all through his meal, Louis sent me pleading looks. I smiled at him, hoping he’d see it as forgiveness. It wasn’t a problem that he’d let slip I’d been in London for a while. After all, it was true, wasn’t it? Just not something I wanted to dwell on. I think the others had picked up on that. I caught a few curious looks coming my way, though I didn’t flatter myself I was that interesting.

The evening got chilly, so we moved on into the town and one of our favorite bars just inside the Lanes. Jack wanted a drink, though Louis was itching to go dancing. He’d eased off on his dance gigs when he got the call for the TV work, but we all knew he missed the excitement—and the limelight. After a couple of pints, Harry left to visit his Goth friends in a pub up Ditchling Road. The Vs had already gone to catch a recommended drag show back in Kemptown.

“You all coming to the show?” Bob asked us. He was shrugging on his jacket, ready to follow the Vs. “She does a fabulous Judy.”

“And there’s food at the bar,” Bryan added.

“You’re always bloody hungry, man.” Bob rolled his eyes.

Jack smiled. “No, thanks. I’ve got work to do tomorrow, preparing for a case meeting on Monday. A couple of beers and a chat is all I’m up for tonight.”

Louis sighed but he was smiling too. “Me neither, guys. I’m with the homebody here.”

“Max?”

“No, thanks.”

Jack was peering at me. “But you’re not coming back with us?”

I didn’t remember saying that, at least not specifically. “No. I’ll probably stay in town, have another drink somewhere else. Then go on to a club.”

Jack nodded, never taking his eyes off me.

“Which club, man?” Bob asked.

Both Louis and Jack were staring at me now. Had I suggested I was looking for a snack of babies’ heads or threatening to run amok through the Lanes with a machine gun? No, just another drink, just a trip to a club….

“Compulsion,” Louis said into the pause. “That’s where you’re going, isn’t it, Max?”

I nodded.

“Where Louis dances?” Bob said. He and Bryan were blissfully unaware of the fresh tension between the rest of us. “Yeah, we’ve been a few times since it got taken over. It’s a good location, near the marina but not too far out of the town center.”

Bryan snorted. “The drinks are too bloody expensive.”

“Who are the new owners?” I thought I sounded almost careless.

“It’s part of a chain. Some franchise, I suppose, though there’s family money behind it.” Bob’s nosiness asserted itself. He was always the first to read the entertainment and society pages in the newspapers, and urban myth had it that he loitered around the local fish and chip shop most nights, just to borrow the old copies of Celebrity Hassle or whatever those weekly glossy magazines were called. “The top man’s name is Medina. Alberto… Alvin, something….”