Rentboy

be. But he was extremely easy to dupe as evidenced by that thug, Baillie’s son, leading
    him on the way he had. Another queer if ever there was one.
    The lift door opened onto the lobby.
    “Have a nice evening, Dr. Howard.” Atherton nodded and headed toward the main doors on
    Keppel Street.
    “See you tomorrow,” he answered resentfully.
    Atherton’s long stride outstripped Howard’s short-legged walk, and he was quickly out on the
    street. The automatic glass doors slid open for Howard, but he did not step outside. Baillie’s strange-
    looking son with the black eye makeup was there, wearing what appeared to be black leggings with a
    red tartan kilt and a black leather waistcoat over a black button-down shirt. The boy had mentioned
    he was an art student, but that was no excuse to dress like an extra from an old Mad Max film.
    “Are you all right, Eddie?” The boy smiled, making his thin white face almost attractive.
    “Fox!” The pleasure in Atherton’s voice turned Howard’s stomach. Bad enough that the man was
    a genius from a privileged family, but Howard was damned if he would see him happy, especially
    since it was dangerous for him and Baillie’s son to continue seeing each other. And he fully intended
    to take as much credit as possible for the safe version of the pesticide Atherton had formulated.
    Pulling his mobile from his pocket, Howard stopped. He punched in Baillie’s number. He
    despised the man, mostly because he was afraid of him, but doing business with him was proving
    lucrative.
    “What d’ y’ fucking want, Howard?” Typical response from a low-class brute like Baillie. This
    would take the eternal smirk off the man’s face.
    “Your son is still fraternizing with Atherton. At this moment they are embracing on the street
    outside LSHTM.”
    “I’ll kill that little queer,” Baillie shouted so loudly that Howard drew the phone away from his
    ear.
    “Killing him is probably unnecessary, but at least tell him to steer clear of Atherton now the job
    is done. From the look on your son’s face, he really likes the man. Before we know it he will feel
    guilty about deceiving him and tell him everything.”
    “Don’t worry. That won’t happen. And not a fucking word about this to Maputwa or I’ll rip your
    balls off and feed them to you. He’s had a man following Atherton around, and he saw my son with
    him. I’ve already warned Fox. Got it?”
    “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word. I’ll follow them and keep you informed.” Howard pressed
    End Call. Still inside the building, he watched Dr. Edward Atherton and Fox Baillie walk off holding
    hands.
    “WHERE HAVE YOU been?” Eddie asked. “I’ve missed you so much.”
    Fox squeezed his hand. “Have you?” He shouldn’t be holding Eddie’s hand on the street or
    anywhere else. He should not have kissed him when they said hello. All he planned on doing was
    telling him it was over, until he saw him loping out of the building in his brown corduroy trousers and
    his goofy striped polo shirt. Eddie was the last bloke on earth he had ever thought he could fancy
    when he first saw him. Now he was all Fox thought about.
    “Yes, I have. Why didn’t you come over sooner? It’s been more than a week. I was worried.”
    Eddie looked at him, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. He pushed them back up with one
    finger on the bridge, a stupid little gesture Fox had come to cherish in the short time they had known
    each other.
    “Busy.” Fox looked into his eyes, and his cock began to harden. “Do you want sex?”
    It must have been the unexpectedness of the question that made Eddie suck in a breath and start to
    giggle. “I always want it, but only with you.”
    “That makes me feel special.” Fox forced himself to sound flippant, but he didn’t feel flippant.
    He felt lucky, and like the worst frigging liar in the universe. “Come on.” He began in the direction of
    the Tottenham Court Road.
    “That’s the wrong way.” Eddie tugged his hand.
    “This is the way to Regent’s Park. I want to do it in Queen Mary’s Garden.”
    “Fox!” Eddie pulled him to a standstill. “Why can’t we go to my flat? We could get caught.
    Arrested. It’s only half past six. It won’t be dark for hours yet.”
    “Eddie, what do I tell you?”
    “Live a little?”
    “That’s right.”
    All along the Tottenham Court Road they held hands while Fox told himself it had to end tonight,
    but he was just so happy being