Rentboy

Eddie,” she whined, looking slightly hurt.
    “Sorry. You’ve been calling me Bro just lately. Only Fox calls me Eddie these days.”
    “Bro,” she said. He forced a smile and waited. “I don’t want to hurt you, so I’ve been avoiding
    saying this. You’ve always been a great brother.”
    “Even though you used to steal money from my trouser pockets?”
    “You knew?”
    “I may be an idiot where people are concerned, but I’m not a complete fool.”
    “Why didn’t you say anything?”
    “You always looked so smug afterwards. It was quite sweet.”
    “Eddie.” Reaching across the table, Nik grabbed his hand.
    At that moment the burly cook came over and stood with his hands on his hips. “Changed your
    sexual preferences, have you? No longer consorting with male prostitutes?” Without waiting for an
    answer, he took Nik’s empty bowl and walked away.
    “Male prostitutes?” Nik asked, clearly confused.
    “It’s a long story,” Edward said, praying she would not push it. “Just get on with it. What do you
    know that I need to know?”
    In a jumble of words said so quick Edward just barely caught them, Nik said, “He’s broken up
    with you. He told me on Saturday evening before your birthday dinner. He thinks you’re too old. He
    wants to play the field a bit.”
    It took a while to sink in. Fox had broken up with him. Anger took over. “Then what the hell was
    that in the barn after dinner? Our Hardian scene?”
    “OMG! You’re kinkier than I ever thought possible. Male prostitutes, sex in the barn. I hope the
    horses weren’t watching.”
    “Nik, please!” It was just a joke to Fox. Edward was a joke to Fox. “He said that? He was going
    to break up with me?”
    Nik nodded, squeezing his hand in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting but just
    made him feel pathetic.
    “Yeah. He said as soon as you got back to London he’d tell you. I don’t know why he waited or
    why he saw you again.”
    “Neither do I. He gave me no inkling that he was dissatisfied with the relationship. I thought he
    was happy. I was deliriously happy. Do you have his mobile number?”
    “Yes. But Bro, don’t do anything rash, will you?”
    “When have I ever done anything rash?” Actually he had done lots of rash things just lately. Sex
    in a barn, with a bridle, no less. Sex under a bush in Russell Square, not to mention a wank in a back
    alley in Soho. For a few weeks life had been exciting. Now it was back to dreary old Edward in his
    lab coat all day and home to his empty, messy flat for Pot Noodles at night. If he knew how to be
    melodramatic, he would throw his head down on the table and sob. But he was Dr. Edward Atherton,
    sober, solid, taken for a fool again.
    “Can I have your rice bowl?” Nik asked. “You haven’t touched it.”
    “Help yourself. I’ve lost my appetite. But give me Fox’s number first. The least he can do is
    apologize.”
    Nik held out her hand, and when Edward handed her his phone, she punched the number into the
    phone book. “Sorry, Bro. There’ll be another man for you. The perfect man.” She took his bowl and
    began to eat.
    “I thought I had the perfect man.”
    “How did you meet him? Was Fox selling his arse? Is that what the waiter meant?”
    “Do you have to be so coarse?” Lowering his voice so that Nik had to lean across the table to
    hear him, he said, “Yes, he was. That was how I met him if you must know, and I would appreciate it
    if you didn’t tell anyone. I was desperate. You kept going on about thirty-year-old virgins, and I am so
    stupidly shy around men that I thought I’d never get a boyfriend. I was even considering going on
    eHarmony. Then I found out that male prostitutes hang around Tisbury Court, so I started going there
    in the hopes of at least having an experience of some sort. Next thing I knew Fox approached me.”
    Brow furrowed, Nik asked, “What the hell was he up to? Why would he do it?”
    “I have no idea. Thrills, perhaps. Whatever his game, he’s going to get a piece of my mind.”

    * * * *
    Fox put down his charcoal, rubbed his hands on the bum of his black denim jeans, and grabbed

    his vibrating mobile from his pocket. Out of respect to the other students and an adherence to school
    protocol, he slipped quietly outside the life modeling studio to look at his phone.
    Text from Edward Atherton. We need to talk. Come and meet me.
    Shit! How the hell had Eddie got his number? Nik. Of course. It wasn’t