his feet, and the softness of the chair, and on the sound of Tessa putting things in order at the desk, and the clack-clack of the beads of his bracelet. He counted the coffee beans in the poster on the wall, which everyone thought was a Melbourne thing, but he and Frank knew was a Keep Milo Calm thing.
When his heart had stopped thumping and his breathing returned to normal, he studied the submissions.
The smaller grant was for a teenager who’d been turfed out of home after coming out. Mediation was helping him reconnect with his family but the kid wasn’t confident enough in their support to return home yet. The grant would cover a hospitality course at the William Angliss Institute, so that the boy could find work and support himself. Milo signed it. He also approved the second request, for funds to revamp a kitchen in a communal house for homeless HIV positive teens.
‘I’m off, Tess,’ he said, putting the documents on her desk. ‘Oh, and band stuff shouldn’t be coming here, so if you get anything else like that Number One Fan letter, bung it on my corner of the desk and I’ll look after it.’
‘Will do.’ She was focused on the computer screen, fiddling with an image of some guitars Milo had donated, via the Foundation, to an Indigenous project in Mildura.
Milo closed the door behind him and stopped to admire the door plaque. It had taken a few years to build the Foundation up, with some very low points in there. But he’d survived them all, and Duo Ex Machina had even done a studio album which the critics didn’t hate.
The excellent royalties from the song off the Lunchtime Legend soundtrack had kept them in the black, too. Now they had a new album coming out, and Frank had cut his producing teeth on Gabey’s new record while theirs was being finalised. All three of them were coming out of the shade of the last few years.
Still, when the lift opened, he couldn’t step inside.
You’re allowed to not want to, said Frank’s voice in his head. It’s not failure to take the stairs. They’re just stairs.
It’s just a lift, he said back to the voice in his head, but mind-Frank wasn’t having any of it.
You’re allowed to prefer the stairs.
Milo took the stairs, popping out in the foyer and then onto Little Bourke Street. To his surprise, Frank and Gabey were still there, Gabey with her hand in the crook of Frank’s elbow.
A wiry guy in black T-shirt and jeans appeared to have bailed them up, but Frank was walking away from the guy with determination.
And ah, shit, the wiry dude had spotted Milo now. Intense Fan Alert!
The guy hovered uncertainly while Milo tried to walk past.
‘Milo Bertolone?’ said the man. He looked troubled.
‘I’m just heading to lunch,’ said Milo, calm but clear.
‘Nah, yeah, that’s good, I don’t want to hold you up or anything. I made your coffee this morning. Frank came in for it.’ He jerked his head towards a café over the road. ‘That’s Gabriella Valli he’s with, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry, mate–‘
‘I’m Lachie Upton.’
‘Sorry Lachie, but I have to go. I don’t want them start lunch without me. Frank scoffs all the garlic bread.’ Keep it light, keep it friendly.
‘Oh, you’re having lunch with them?’
‘Yep. Celebrating the end of a hard week singing, like you do.’
‘I thought they were… you know.’
Milo tried hard not to stop, he really did, but his feet nevertheless stopped. ‘Were what?’
‘Nothing, nothing. You and Frank, you’re solid, yeah? Still, you know.’ He gave Milo a meaningful look.
‘Still what?’
‘Boyfriends.’
Milo regretted ever stopping. He regretted ever leaving the office. ‘Yeah. Still boyfriends.’ His expression added like it’s any of your business. But Lachie had relaxed considerably.
‘That’s great. Great. Really. Like. You’re still wearing that bracelet he gave you, yeah.’
The fan forums really had a breathtaking level of detail in them. Milo had no idea how they knew Frank had given the bracelet to him, though he was pretty sure they didn’t know why. He and Frank were the only two who knew that part.
Lachie flinched slightly at the look on Milo’s face. ‘I’m not a stalker,’ he blurted, and then blushed red to the roots and looked ready to cry. ‘Oh, god, I’m fucking this all up.’
‘Nah, it’s fine,’ Milo said. The starstruck ones were rare but most were just a bit overwhelmed. If Milo understood anything, it was feeling overwhelmed.
‘It’s just. You guys. You mean a lot to me. When you outed both of you on the MacMillan show, it was the greatest moment in my life, you know? Well, you wouldn’t, but when you guys did that, and my folks were watching, and my mum thought it was sweet, and Dad said he thought that was pretty brave, that’s when I came out to them. It went pretty well, really. So. Um. Thanks. I just. You’ve been quiet for a while and I was worried you’d… you know. Split up.’
Milo blinked. ‘We’re good, ah,’ name, name, oh yes. ‘Lachie. Solid. I’m glad it went well with your parents.’
‘I think you guys are the best.’
‘Thanks. Ah. So. Lunch. I gotta go.’
‘Oh yeah, sure. And. Um. Tell Frank I’m sorry I got snitty, yeah?’
Milo did just that when he joined Frank and Gabey at the table. A beer had already arrived for him.
‘That MacMillan business made us his romantic heroes,’ Milo announced, rolling his eyes but charmed anyway.
Gabey frowned. ‘That explains why he looked at me like I’d stolen his puppy.’
‘Don’t you steal my man, Ms Valli,’ Milo warned her. ‘He’s the only one who knows where the spare house keys are kept.’
‘Seriously, though,’ she said. ‘Do the fans get to you?’
‘No,’ replied Milo earnestly. ‘They’re a bit awkward sometimes, but not a single one of them has ever tried to murder me.’
‘Me either, I guess,’ said Gabey.
Underneath the table, where Milo was fiddling with his bracelet, clack-clack, clack-clack, he felt Frank’s hand slide over his wrist. He turned his hand palm up, and Frank laced their fingers together. Milo squeezed and held on until the waiter came to fill up their table with plates, pizza and salad.
Chapter Three
‘Are you going to tell everyone you cooked dinner?’ Frank leaned against
