Rentboy

though he could probably manage dick in a pinch. He’d always said willy when he
    talked about it at all. Silence greeted the question. Fox was fast asleep. For a long time Edward lay
    awake, stroking Fox’s smooth skin and soft black hair.
    Chapter Two
    Fox left Edward Atherton’s flat in Bloomsbury just before six a.m. while the dude was still fast
    asleep. The air was pleasantly cool as he walked to the Underground to get the train and then a bus
    home, but it was still humid, promising a hot day ahead. His academic year had ended in May, but he
    had taken on extra classes over the summer just because he loved studying art and hated being at
    home.
    The house was quiet when he unlocked the door and walked into the wide entrance hall with its
    polished hardwood floors. After spending the first fourteen years of his life living on army bases all
    over England and Europe, Fox had been surprised when his father had bought the big house in
    Finchley four years ago. William Baillie had been in Special Forces and had fought in Afghanistan
    and Iraq before retiring at the age of forty-eight, but how his pension had stretched to a brand-new
    house this size, Fox had no idea. The bastard was up to something dodgy. He always was.
    “Afton!”
    “Shit!” All he wanted was to check on the twins, then sneak off to his room, get into bed, and
    sleep for a few hours. Anything to avoid having to tell his father he had failed to get him what he
    wanted.
    “Is that you?”
    To the left of the entrance hall a double-door-sized arch led into an extensive, beautifully
    furnished living room. The sight that met his eyes when he walked in was the same one he witnessed
    every morning whether he was off to college or to his part-time job at the café. His mother was
    stretched out on the couch. Drunk. On the carpet beside her, several empty wine bottles lay on their
    sides. Fox switched off the huge wall-mounted television before wandering about the room to turn off
    the lamps and open the curtains.
    His mother issued a cry of pain. “Leave the curtains closed. I hate daylight.” Then her voice
    softened. He swore she had multiple personality disorder. Sometimes it was like living with that girl
    from The Exorcist . “Afton, come here to Mum.” She held out her arms to him.
    Fox remained where he was, about ten feet away. Even after a bath and a long sleep, his mum
    would still smell of alcohol. Her system was awash with it. If she went a week without booze, she’d
    still be drunk, but she couldn’t go twenty-four hours. “I’ve asked you to call me Fox.”
    “Your name’s not Fox. That’s just a stupid nickname you gave yourself.”
    “I didn’t give it to myself. Great Granddad called me Fox when I was little, remember?”
    “He’s dead,” she said callously.
    When she was drunk, she said things she later regretted. Ignoring the remark, Fox said, “Are you
    going to bed?”
    “I think I’ll stay here and watch a bit more telly.” She reached for the remote, which was on the
    floor with the empty bottles, but quickly gave up. As usual she could hardly move.
    “You know what dad will do if he sees you in the living room passed out.”
    A wave of apprehension swept over her face.
    Fox approached the couch and stretched out a hand. “Come on. I’ll help you. Let’s see if we can
    get you upstairs without him seeing you.”
    Gratitude replacing apprehension, she allowed him to pull her to her feet. Fox wrapped his arm
    around her waist as she leaned heavily on him. The fumes from all the booze she’d consumed turned
    his stomach. It took fully ten minutes to get his mum upstairs and into her bedroom, where she fell
    onto the bed. Fox pulled her slippers off her feet. She was already in her silk nightgown and matching
    dressing gown. She rarely wore anything else these days. There was no need to dress when you never
    went out.
    “I love you, Afton. I love you and the twins,” she slurred before going unconscious. When she
    was bladdered, she told him she loved him. When she was semidrunk, she hated the world and
    everyone in it. He hadn’t seen her sober in ten years, but she’d been a good mum once.
    “If you loved us, you’d get your arse to AA.” He closed the curtains and left her alone. He loved
    her very much; he just hated what she had become.
    Overlooking the big back garden was Fox’s bedroom, and next to it was the room the twins
    shared. He really did want to sleep some more, but he’d better