‘What’s he done?’ Dan asks, a frown settling on his forehead.
‘Nothing major. Don’t panic. Clive ran into him. Or should I say, he ran into Clive.’
‘Is Clive okay?’
‘Sure.’
‘So, what happened?’
Placing his cup on the coffee table, Gordon sits back and begins his story. ‘Mr Boyd follows Clive home from work, catches up with him outside the Financial Times building. He wants to know what’s going on.’ He pauses, narrowing his eyes before he continues in one of the worst Scottish accents I’ve ever heard. ‘Och, what’s Maya doing in New York and where’s that Mr Foster? I know they’re up to something. Och, I do.’
‘And Clive said?’ Dan asks, uneasily.
‘Fuck off!’ Gordon almost shouts, switching to one of the worst English accents I’ve ever heard. ‘But Boyd doesn’t like that.’ He reaches out and makes a fist. ‘He grabs hold of Clive and demands the truth.’
I hear Dan sigh. Any minute now, he’s going to snap. Clearly oblivious to his friend’s irritation, Gordon presses on with his dramatic rendition.
‘Clive tells Boyd he doesn’t have a clue about Maya, but Dan’s in Bermuda. And then he says, what the fuck does it have to do with you? Apparently, Mr Boyd doesn’t take too well to this.’ He waves a hand in the air. ‘And then they have a little dust-up.’
‘A dust-up?’ Dan asks. ‘They had a fight?’
‘Yup. And needless to say, Clive came out on top. He was in the boxing club at Cambridge, Maya. Did you know that? A man who can crunch numbers and knuckles. You don’t mess with Clive Watson, trust me.’
‘But Boyd’s suspicious?’ I venture.
‘And that’s why I’m here. It’s time to bring this secret rendezvous to an end.’ He focusses on Dan. ‘I need to take Maya out on the town, and you need to get back to Bermuda.’
Saying nothing, Dan slides a hand over mine. This is the last thing either of us wants.
‘He’s right,’ he says. ‘We need to throw Boyd off the scent.’
‘Completely off the scent,’ Gordon adds. ‘Maya’s my girlfriend now.’
‘But you’re gay,’ I blurt, regretting the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
Gordon stares at me, steely for a moment, before his face breaks into a grin.
‘I sure am.’ He flaps a hand. ‘But as far as the outside world’s concerned, I’m a mystery wrapped in an enigma.’ With a dismissive shrug, he gets to his feet. ‘My parents wouldn’t understand. They’re stuck in the dark ages.’
‘But you said …’
‘Show the real you?’ He waves a finger at me, and tuts. ‘Do as I say, not as I do. I may be a homosexual, but I’m also a mendacious, grasping, power-hungry homosexual.’ He straightens his suit. ‘My parents are never going to change, and I want my inheritance. What are you gonna do?’
‘But that’s wrong …’
‘Get used to it, Maya,’ Dan interrupts. ‘Gordon’s happy to stay in the closet. He likes his luxuries.’
‘You know me so well.’ Gordon smiles proudly. ‘Unlike the paparazzi.’ He takes his cup over to the trolley. ‘They just can’t work me out. They’re constantly sniffing for a story, so we’re going to give them one. My people are tipping them off as we speak. We’re going to leave this hotel arm in arm, all freshly fucked and loved-up.’
I look to Dan for help.
‘You’d better go with it.’ He squeezes my hand.
‘I’m not kissing him.’ Oh God, another badly-thought-out blurt. ‘Sorry, Gordon.’
‘That’s okay,’ he laughs. ‘And just so you know, I’d rather kiss a gibbon’s ass than kiss you.’ He claps his hands together. ‘Okay, Sunday in the Big Apple. What shall we do?’
I shake my head. I have no idea what to do, no wish to go sightseeing, no enthusiasm for anything apart from spending time with Dan. Leaning forward, I place my cup on the table and slump back again. Ignoring my dejection, and obviously in his element, Gordon pushes on with the plans.
‘Dan, I’ve organised a private jet to take you back to Bermuda. You’d better get packing.’
Rising to his feet, Dan nods glumly.
‘Why are you going back to Bermuda?’ I ask.
‘I need to fly home from there. And we can’t both show up back in London at the same time. I’ll have to stay with Bill for a few days.’
‘I’ll wait downstairs for you, Maya. You’ve got half an hour.’ Gordon hesitates, surveying my dress. ‘You wore that the other night. You might want to go and change.’ He purses his lips. ‘And a pair of panties wouldn’t go amiss.’ He winks at my crotch, and makes his way to the lobby. ‘And make-up too,’ he calls back. ‘If you’re stepping out with me, you need to look like the dog’s testicles.’
‘The dog’s bollocks,’ Dan corrects him.
‘I love you Brits,’ Gordon laughs. ‘You talk so weird.’
I stay where I am, crossing my legs and listening to the swish of the lift door. Finally, we’re alone again. Only now it’s different. The spell’s broken. Reality’s nudged its way into our bubble. Holding out a hand, Dan beckons me to get up. I rise and step into his arms.
‘Every single sodding time,’ I grumble against his chest. ‘Why can’t he just leave us alone? I’m sick of this.’
He pulls back and smooths my hair.
‘I’ll come home soon.’ He watches the slow progress of his hand before fixing his eyes on mine. ‘And then I’ll find a way for us to meet each other … if it kills me.’
‘Don’t say that. Be careful.’
‘Of course.’ He lifts my hand, admiring the diamond. ‘You’d better hide this.’
‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know, and that’s the truth.’ His palms come to my cheeks. His eyes glimmer, completely earnest. ‘Remember the song I played
