“He . . .” Andrew took a deep breath. “He offered me anything I needed to finish my qualifications . . . if I slept with him.”
Brian stiffened. “What the hell? That fucking bastard.”
“No. I don’t— Maybe he didn’t mean that. He’s married.”
“So? A prick’s a prick, no matter if he has a ring on his finger or not.”
“He didn’t have his ring on,” Andrew whispered, suddenly remembering. Looking down at that broad, tanned hand on his knee, there had been no ring. No tan line. It hadn’t fully registered at the time, his mind too shocked to comprehend much past the touch and words.
Brian growled. “A lying, adultering prick.”
“He’s right. I want to get my qualification and work as an architect, but I can’t work for him. Not now.”
Andrew made Brian go to work the next day. It was Thursday and the last of Brian’s four day week. The ten hours dragged out and he called Andrew every chance he got. After the third conversation, Andrew told him not to call again unless it was an emergency. He was okay and Brian needed to concentrate on work.
It had been two weeks since Brian had “come out” to Michael, and the older doctor was as cool as ever. Nothing changed at work and that made Brian feel better generally. Andrew’s blood results had come back all negative and they’d been slowly working their way towards anal sex. Brian had read a book and shared passages with Andrew, they’d messed around with fingering and Brian was comfortably taking three with a lot of lube and Andrew’s mouth on his cock. This was his four-day weekend and before Vaughn the Prick had shown his true colours, Brian had hoped he would get a dick in his arse at least by Friday night so he could recover by Tuesday, if required. But it was all in Andrew’s hands now. The night before all he’d wanted was to sleep with Brian’s arms around him, which Brian had agreed to unquestionably, silently wishing syphilis on Vaughn the Arsewipe all the while.
Brian sent off a message. Andrew hadn’t said he couldn’t message. ‘Want anything special for dinner? My treat.’
The three dots wiggled along, then, ‘Nothing special. Just you please.’
‘Done. No need to ask.’
“Problem at home?” Michael asked, using that supernatural observation of his again. It was a quiet moment in the A&E and he was slouched down in his chair, long legs stretched out under the table, hands clasped together on top of his head.
“Issue with Andrew’s work. It’s a bit all up in the air.”
Andrew had called in “sick” again, and Ron hadn’t argued. Had even said head office might give him a call through the day, which was part of the reason Brian was checking in so often. Whatever head office said, he didn’t want Andrew dealing with it alone again.
“Is it because of his orientation?”
Brian shrugged. “Maybe. I’m not sure. There were some words said, accusations made. But there’s a third party involved too. It’s a mess.”
“Sounds it. Did I ever tell you I have twin brother?”
“No.”
“Identical. Well, I’m handsomer, of course.”
“Of course.”
“He’s gay. Don’t tell anyone cause he’s only selectively out.”
“Why tell me then?”
“I have wisdom to impart. So, he’s out to us and some friends, that’s it, and he’s miserable. Won’t acknowledge it, of course, but he is. I can read his mind. Anyway, part of the reason is his work. They must have got wind of it somehow and, in vague terms, said if he ‘comes out,’ he won’t have a job anymore.”
“That’s discrimination.”
“And he knows that. But the dumb bastard loves his job. Insists he’s happy. He has this dropkick boyfriend who won’t live with him until he’s ‘ready to be real.’ Let’s just say, I’m not a fan.”
Brian squirmed. “Is there actually any wisdom coming or are you just wanting to vent?”
“The wisdom is this. Don’t waste time on other people’s shortcomings. If you do, you’ll be as miserable as my brother in a job that all but actively discriminates against him and a boyfriend who can’t accept him fully how he is.”
“I guess that was worth the story. Do you tell your brother that?”
Michael grunted. “Every time I see him. He doesn’t come around as much anymore.”
“I wonder why,” Brian said dryly.
Things got busy again after that and Brian barely had a moment to shoot off a message asking Andrew if the head office had called yet. Then he couldn’t check for an answer until almost home time.
‘Yes. Not bad news. Tell you when you get home.’
Relief buoyed Brian through the rest of his shift and he raced home. Andrew was on the couch again, but thankfully not frozen with shock. He had Schrody on his lap and was messaging with the hand not a slave to the furbaby’s whims.
“Who you messaging?” Brian asked as he leaned down and kissed the top of his head.
“Elle. She’s just checking in.”
Since the day of the suit fittings, Brian hadn’t spoken much to their friends. He’d accepted Troy’s, James’s and Elle’s apologies, told them he was okay, but didn’t feel like going out much. Andrew had been better at keeping in touch with them but he’d stayed home with Brian more than he’d gone out to meet them. Brian was getting closer to feeling comfortable about it and promised he would be part of the bachelor party the following weekend.
“Did you tell her about work?” Brian removed a drowsy cat and laid his own head on Andrew’s leg, the cat now on his chest.
“A bit. Not everything.”
“That’s cool. So, what did head office have to say?”
Andrew put his phone down and carded his fingers through Brian’s hair. “Apparently, there was a confrontation after I left. Sam saw me go off with Vaughn, of course, and when I left straight after getting back, he said some things that got some of the others offside. They wouldn’t tell me what exactly but I guess it was about me and Vaughn being gay together. Head office said Sam then made some accusations about me being inappropriate at work, so they have to investigate.”
“That’s why Terri said she’s on your side.”
“Yeah. I called her today and she told me all about it. From what she said, I think Sam’s lost his job, no matter what comes of the investigation. He apparently nearly punched a couple of the guys.”
“Wow.”
“Terri said his wife wants a divorce so he’s in a bad place.”
“Doesn’t really excuse him lying about you or punching people.”
“No. Anyway, home office doesn’t want me working with that crew for a while. If I want to work, I have to join a Brisbane build.”
Brian sat up, dislodging Schrody, who hissed at him, then trotted off, tail high, puckered butt on full display. Ignoring that, Brian turned and faced Andrew. “Brisbane? Really?” Where Eliot of the Hickey was. Brian had never forgotten that name.
“I need to keep working, so yeah.”
“How will you get there?”