Kiss and Cry. Narrelle M Harris
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Fletcher loomed into view, putting himself in between Frank’s darting gaze and the space where Milo should have been.
‘Happy birthday Frank!’ Cody pecked him on the cheek and was blushing coyly when he pulled away. He grinned when Frank was surprised into a smile.
‘Thanks, Cody.’
‘Thanks for asking me along.’
‘Thanks for coming.’
‘And you were right about the backing vocals on Cleopatra. They really lift it up, make it stand out. Amor Vincit Omnia,’ he sang the line. ‘Love Conquers All. Perfect.’
Frank knew the addition was perfect, which was why he’d fought for it, for Cody to let him try it.
‘I’ve learned my lesson. Always do whatever my producer wants.’ Cody dropped his voice meaningfully.
The look in Cody’s eye as he looked straight into Frank’s was… flattering. The way Cody’s tongue flicked out to lick at his lower lip was, too, as was the way Cody leaned towards him as though he couldn’t help himself.
Frank’s gaze darted to the door. Still no Milo. He looked back to Cody. Blond, handsome, blue-eyed Cody, mid-twenties and cocky with his own talent. Cody had a wicked charm and easy self-confidence that reminded Frank of Milo.
‘Anything you want now, Frank?’ Cody swayed closer, not quite in kissing distance but definitely broadcasting the intent.
I want Milo to be bloody here like he said he’d be.
Frank smiled, friendly but not encouraging. He lifted his bottle of beer to show it was a quarter full. ‘Another Pale Ale would hit the spot. Ta.’
Cody took the brush-off well, keeping his chirpy grin as he headed to the bar.
Frank wondered if he’d have to talk to Cody about all the flirting. This was Cody’s second more serious attempt at seduction and flattering as it was, and handsome as Cody was, Frank was not interested. Still, it was good for the soul, to know that someone still thought him worth cruising. No harm in enjoying a spot of harmless banter.
Someone patted his wrist and he turned from the still-bloody-empty doorway to see Milo’s mother, Olivia. ‘He’ll be here,’ she said softly, encouragingly, and a lot less judgemental than Ange had been.
‘I know,’ said Frank, intending to believe it.
‘You know how much the Foundation means to him. He works very hard for it.’
‘I’m aware,’ said Frank drily, eyes back on the door. Olivia took her hand from his and he felt ashamed at his brusqueness.
‘I know the work’s important to him, Olivia, and I know why. With this stint on the skating show coming up, he wants to make sure it’s all operating smoothly and can take any scrutiny it gets. I understand it. I do. But he promised he’d be here.’
He felt like a wanker for whining about it. He was a goddamned adult, and “my boyfriend didn’t come to my birthday party” was an infantile reason to feel so disappointed when he knew it wasn’t really Milo’s fault.
Except it sort of was. He should have been home two days ago. Time had “slipped away”. Again. The ice show was just the latest reason in an increasingly long list of reasons over the last few years to be too busy for stuff they’d planned. Frank had made an especial effort to clear his own decks for the occasion. And if he worked long hours himself, well, he was the one bringing in the bulk of the income just now. Someone had to.
‘He’s coming, Frank.’
‘Sure he is. If he’s not too tired. Or if he doesn’t meet an old friend at the airport. Or just doesn’t feel like it.’
‘Oh Frank, that’s not fair.’
‘Yeah. He can’t help being easily distracted. Part of his charm, isn’t it?’
Frank might have said more – vented more of his disappointment, or apologised to Olivia for being in such a foul mood – but just then, finally, there he was, handsome and devil-may-care as ever. Milo, clearly weary and dishevelled, had obviously come directly from the airport. He dropped his bag by the door as his eyes sought Frank out. As soon as he saw Frank, Milo smiled like the sun coming out, happy to be here, happy to see him
All acrimony forgotten, Frank beamed back.
Frank wanted to grab Milo’s hand and drag him somewhere private and cosy – or even just the cloak room – where they could pash like teenagers. Instead, he waved like the sedate adult he was becoming.
Cody Fletcher brought him a bottle of beer and he took it, hardly noticing Cody or how Cody’s fingers brushed against his. Instead, he made a beeline for Milo, his eyes bright and happy with welcome.
Angela’s four-year-old son ran screaming past the bistro counter towards Milo, little legs pumping, eyes wide, chubby cheeks round with laughing. ‘Uncle Meeelooh!’
‘Sorry,’ Milo mouthed at Frank as Antony collided with his thighs and nearly bounced away again.
‘Uncle Meeeeloooooh!!’
Milo promptly zombie-lurched after the boy, hands outstretched as he chanted, ‘Antony-Mantony got ants in his pantony!’
‘I haven’t got ants in my pantonies!’ squealed Antony, dodging between the long legs of the other party guests. The adults danced out of the way, smiling indulgently or scowling according to their temperament.
‘You do so have ants!’ yelled Antony’s nine year old sister from the sidelines. She’d abandoned her earlier attempts at tween insouciance a while ago, fuelled by cola, birthday cake and her brother’s antics.
‘Don’t encourage him, Isabella,’ Angela berated her.
‘Mu-u-u-um.’ The four syllables betrayed Isabella tortured sense of unfairness.
Milo grabbed Antony around the middle and swung him into the air. Antony’s feet just missed clocking a waiter.
‘Aa-a-a-ange,’ said Milo over Antony’s gulping giggles, ‘don’t blame Bella. It’s my fault.’
‘That’s right. It’s Uncle Milo’s fault!’
‘I know it’s your Uncle Milo’s fault,’ Angela said, unamused.
Frank’s feet were tingling from the effort of standing perfectly still while he waited for Milo to reach him, instead of barging through the crowd, shoving people aside as he went. When Milo slid his arms around Frank’s waist, Frank melted into the embrace.
‘I made it.’
‘By the skin of your teeth.’
‘But I made it. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Happy birthday, gorgeous Bear.’
Frank, his arms wrapped around Milo too, sighed out the last of his tension. ‘I missed you.’
‘Missed you too.’ Milo kissed Frank’s nose, then his lips. ‘No more trips for a while.’
‘Good.’ A deeper kiss, a glad-to-be-home kiss, where home was one another.
‘Not in front of the kids, Frank!’ Angela’s hissed, uncomfortable whisper broke them. Milo cocked a snarky eyebrow at her preparing for battle, which was fair enough, but Frank had really been hoping to avoid another stupid fight with his sometimes insensitive sister.
Their mother Tonia saved him the trouble.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Angela, they’re just kissing. You and Michael kissed in front of the kids!’
‘They used to,’ Isabella asserted. ‘Even when I told them it was gross.’ Then the girl’s face crumpled, maybe wishing they were still doing their gross parental kissing instead of divorcing.
‘A