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Aleksey might have protested this blatant assault on his dignity, if not for the foot pressing on his, and the knowing look in Ben’s eye as he stole the food.
‘So, boss? Thoughts?’
Aleksey swung his gaze reluctantly to the moron and raised his brows enquiringly. Squeezy snorted. ‘Yeah.’ He took a mouthful and spoke around it, ‘Not listening. Thought so. Nothing fucking new there, course, but, just in case, prob’ly wasting me breath, but what’d’ya think?’
Aleksey blew out his lips in a great sigh and laid his head down in the space where his plate had been. ‘Save me.’
They all began to laugh, and for once it didn’t make Aleksey feel like an outsider. He muttered to some crumbs, ‘Go on. What do I think about what?’
‘Me. Fuckingpilothere already in case you’d forgotten…if you want one, that is.’
Aleksey’s head came up sharply. He did know this. How did he know this? He cast his mind back over nine years of inanity and recalled a conversation in his London house: Ben, not rememberinghimbut thinking that Squeezy was back from an Apache course in the States. Apachehelicopters.
Someone had once thought it an acceptable idea to give Michael Heathcote a pilot’s licence.
That was a sobering thought.
He realised his views on this astounding fact were more than visible on his face when the moron huffed and muttered, ‘Cheers for that, mate.’
Ben, chuckling, suggested, ‘He could—’
‘No.’
Ben recoiled a little. ‘You didn’t let me—’
‘Nope.’
Gritting of teeth was occurring. Aleksey could sense it.
‘That’s what you did when I wanted Mol Mol to go on her sleepover. Just make a…one of those decision things.’
‘Unilateral? I did, and it’s still no.’ Aware that the other two were observing this like dogs watching tennis balls being lobbed, he turned to Squeezy. ‘Are you still current?’
Squeezy narrowed his eyes. ‘Define current.’
‘Are youlegal?’
‘Bout as legal as anything you wanna do…jefe.’ This threat was not lost on Aleksey: if he probed more on the moron’s flying credentials, their recent aborted conversation on drugs would be aired.
‘If you want to fly, you will have to buy your own plane. I’m buying one forBen. IlikeBen.You, I merely employ.’
Squeezy’s eyes widened in genuine outrage, and he turned considerable ire on Ben. ‘You fucker! He’s buying you a bleeding plane of your own! You didn’t mention that! Just how fucking goodareyou in bed! Jesus! This issounfair.’
Tim, dismayed possibly that there was some slur on him implied in this, either for lack of wealth or performance he clearly couldn’t decide, began to berate Squeezy for his complete lack of tact. Squeezy who rarely listened to anything his boyfriend said continued to harangue Ben, and Ben, obviously delighted to be “the boyfriend who got bought a plane”, was winding him up with details such as size, seating capacity, and likely cost.
Therefore, having nicely diverted the conversation from the idea that he would ever in this world, the next, or in the one to come after that, fly in anything that had Michael Heathcote at the controls, Aleksey stretched in pleasure and asked to no one in particular, ‘Is there any pudding?’
* * *
Later that night, in the warmth and comfort of their bed, Ben returned to this discussion. He’d been lying on his back for some time, his head pillowed on his folded arms, apparently deep in thought. It was quite novel.
‘I wouldn’t see Squeezy as someone who could do stuff like pass an Apache course. I mean, that’s the most elite of all rotary-wing aircraft.’
‘I wouldn’t put that moron in charge of changing my—how many pilots does it take to change a light bulb?’
‘Huh?’
‘How many—?’
