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“I am a man.”
What Ethan didn’t know and would never know, since I liked to keep my dirty thoughts private, is that I’d been fondling my dick more than usual since meeting Theadora.
“What about Dad?” Ethan shook his head. “Who would’ve thought? He’s arranged that dinner next week for us to meet his partner.”
I exhaled. “Each to their own.”
“But he’s our dad,” Ethan pressed.
“So? Homosexuality’s everywhere.”
He nodded pensively. “Not my thing. I mean they tried me at school.” He chuckled. “Public aah… a pederast’s feast.”
“That’s kinda cliché, isn’t it?”
“Clichés represent the common paradigm,” Ethan said, putting to use his degree in sociology.
“Whatever, but I didn’t get hit on at boarding school,” I said.
“That’s because you were known to punch kids when they played up.”
A smile grew on my face. Yep. That was me. Fighting with anyone that got in my face.
“I’m not surprised you joined the army,” he said.
“Hey, I’m no longer that guy.”
A poor argument given the punch-up with those brutes while saving Theadora. I would have done that a million times over. I shuddered to think what would have happened had I not arrived when I did.
“Are you coming to the dinner?” He roused me out of the rerun of me carrying Theadora’s heavy drugged body away from danger.
“Sure. It would be good to meet whoever it is that’s making our father happy.”
“It’s certainly not Mother,” Ethan said, returning to the kitchen. “Divorce is in the air,” he sang instead of “Love is in the Air.”
I chuckled. Ethan was a bit of a clown when he wanted to be. One of his finer points.
“Mm… don’t know if it’s going to be that simple.” I stared down at my watch. “I’ve got to go.”
He saluted me.
One hour later, I walked into a pub off Leicester Square where I found Carson at the bar waiting for me.
It was midday, and a bit early for a drink, but knowing Carson, who had the liver of an Irishman, time didn’t matter.
Sipping a stout, he waved for me to join him. “Hey, mate. Good to see you.”
I patted his broad shoulder. “You, too.”
“What are you drinking?”
“A beer, I guess.”
The bar attendant, a woman who looked as old as the pub, ambled over, and Carson ordered drinks and a bowl of chips.
I nodded at the barmaid and then picked up the cool glass. “Can we sit at a table?”
He nodded and followed me to a spot by the window.
