Free The Chase: Brit Boys: On Boys by Lily Harlem Page A

for sure. No wonder his career was taking off. There were even rumours he’d been asked to guest spot on Mock the Week .
    “I hope he sticks around,” Robert said, leaning a little over the bar so only Steve could hear him.
    “What do you mean?” Steve asked.
    “If he hits the big time. I hope he still comes to Cardiff.”
    “Yeah, I was just thinking that.” He studied Robert, who was rubbing his chin and staring once more at Carrick. “You fancy the arse off him, don’t you, Robert?”
    Robert turned. “No more than you do.” He grinned and the smile went right up to his eyes. They sparkled the way they always did when it was late at night, he’d had a drink and was thinking about sex.
    Steve shrugged and clicked off the beer tap. “I can’t deny that.” At one time he’d have felt consumed with jealousy if Robert had admitted to fancying someone else. And he never would have confessed to Robert that he wanted into another man’s trousers. But now, since they’d split, their friendship had grown. It felt like their baggage had been taken out, leaving room for their emotions to mature and the space for honesty. Their friendship had blossomed; if he were honest, he felt closer than ever to Robert.
    “What can I get you?” Steve asked a woman with long blonde hair and bright red lips.
    “Two chardonnays.”
    He turned to the fridge. He missed being with Robert, his Master, late at night, when it was cold and dark, when his bed felt too big. Perhaps they should try to rekindle their romance, re-stoke their lust, but this time based on friendship rather than the desperate need to rip each other’s clothes off. Neither of them had found anyone else in the year since their breakup to fill the gap.
    Maybe his gap was a Robert-shaped gap?
    Steve quickly poured the wine and took the money from the lady.
    Or could it be a Carrick-shaped space? Would he fit into the hole in his life?
    As if? Men like Carrick could have anyone they wanted. He no doubt had a bloke in every town as he did his constant tour of the UK spreading laughs and jokes.
    The hole in his life was much more likely to be Robert-shaped.
    “Well, that’s it for tonight, folks,” Carrick shouted and put his hand in the air, palm facing the audience. “I’m Carrick Rawlin, you’ve been great. Good night!”
    He stepped backwards to the red velvet curtain, which slid open just enough to let him step through.
    The cheering and clapping caused Steve’s ears to ring and he paused in serving. “Whoo!” he shouted, banging his hands together.
    Robert put his fingers in his mouth and added a piercing whistle to the noise.
    Steve watched Robert start clapping and smiled. He loved seeing Robert happy and enjoying himself, and was glad that he propped up the bar so often at Jugglers. It made work feel a lot less like work if he was at his side.
    The audience began to shuffle and stand. Steve hoped the club would clear quickly now the entertainment was over. That way Carrick might come and sit at the bar with him and Robert and wet his whistle—that was the expression he’d used last time. It would be good to have some alone time with the sexy comedian.
    Steve glanced up at the glass shelf that held the spirits. Yes, they had Jack Daniels with honey. That was good. It was Carrick’s favourite.
     
     
    *****
     
     
    Steve’s wish was granted and within half an hour Jugglers was almost empty. The dark wooden chairs sat at odd angles to the round tables, which were topped with empty glasses and bowls holding the remnants of bar snacks. The stage was in darkness, the floor in need of a sweep, and the quiet after the boisterous noise was a welcome relief.
    He switched the dishwasher on and finally poured himself a half pint of Strongbow.
    “So do you think he’ll join us for a drink?” Robert asked, stacking three quid on a drip tray.
    “He might.”
    “Trouble is,” Robert said, “if we both fancy him, who’s going to have him?”
    Steve