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As I pass through the doors to freedom, I can’t help shaking my head. Was Jill really trying to set me up with her brother? If she was, then it was awfully sweet of her. Okay, so James is a bit young for me, butstill. I can’t help but be flattered.
One thing’s for sure,the evening would have been infinitely more bearable if he’d arrived here sooner.
“It sounds as if your evening was even worse than mine,” Ronan laughs, tapping cigarette ash on the pavement.
I feign innocence. “But I thought you said things were great with the cute guy and the two-for-one cocktails?”
“I was,until said cute guy proved to have the intelligence of a flea. All he talked about was Lady bloody Gaga, and then Donna Summer came on and he started doing this horribly camp dance to draw attention to himself. My God, it was so embarrassing.” I snicker. “Don’t laugh, Carly. The boy was a complete lunatic. Oh, and to top it all off, he tweaked my nipple.”
“He tweaked your nipple?”
“Yep. That’s a big deal-breaker in my book.”
“But didn’t some guy do that to you at G.A.Y. last week? Why does this keep happening to you?”
Ronan blows looping smoke circles in the air. “Search me. My life seems to be an endless medley of nipple tweaks and one night stands.”
I crack up. I’ve only been with Ronan ten minutes and already I feel better about everything. We’re sitting under a big, striped umbrella outside a Soho coffee shop. It’s bitterly cold but Ronan wants to smoke, so I’m braving the harsh weather for his sake. Ronan is short and slim but carries himself with the haughty assurance of a big man. Once upon a time, he possessed a mane of thick, dark hair so lush it drew favourable comments from everyone. Then an attack of alopecia in his twenties robbed him of his pride and joy, and he now hides his baldness under a succession of brightly coloured beanie hats.
“The problem is I feel old.”
“Oh, come on, you’re only thirty-six,” I laugh. “You’re not exactly on a Zimmer frame yet.”
“Maybe not,” Ronan agrees. “But clubbing just isn’t fun anymore. When I go out, I don’t feel that buzz. I don’t have the stamina for it. By twelve o’clock, I’m knackered and all I want is my bed. Plus, all the bars in Soho are filled with teenagers,and with so much competition, old queens like me don’t get a look in.”
I reach across the table and pat his hand. “Now you’re being melodramatic. You know you always get attention when we go out.”
“Yes, but it’s not the right kind of attention. For crying out loud, am I the only gay man in London who wants to be in a committed relationship? I’m sick of one-night stands. I’m sick of always sleeping on the wet patch. I want to live the dream:marriage, kids, the whole shebang. Is that too much to ask? All I need is Mr Right and wham! My whole life’s sorted.”
“Then perhaps you should stop cruising Soho.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re hardly going to find Mr Right around here, are you? Maybe you should start hanging out at libraries or something.”
“Very funny. The last time I read a book, Dr Hook wasTop of the Pops.”
We both chuckle, and for a few seconds, the two of us sip our lattes, drinking in the unique atmosphere of Old Compton Street.
“Anyway, enough about me. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m all right. Just been working, sleeping, rinse and repeat. Nothing much to tell.”
He gives me a look. “Come on, babe, I know that face. Something’s up, I can feel it. It’s time to spill the beans.”
I hesitate, and then I blurt, “Andrew got married.”
Ronan turns pale then clenches his jaw with irritation. “How did you find out?”
“I saw it on Facebook.”
“Still stalking the ex, I see.”
“It wasn’t like that! I wasn’t stalking him. I just, you know, wanted to see how he’s doing.”
“And why the hell would you carewhatthat wanker’s doing? Carly, it’s been five years. You need to get over him.”
“Iamover him!”
