‘Isn’t anyone backing me?’ Becca asks.
Her colleagues pretend to be hedging their bets and Becca pretends to be offended.
The segment fades out to an ad for their station’s new show: Icing It! 2014!
Chapter Two
Frank kept glancing towards the door to the bistro, but the frame remained stubbornly empty. Party guests stopped to wish him well, and they’d hug and exchange a few words, but always, he had one eye on that door.
‘Isn’t he coming?’ asked Frank’s sister Angela, lips pursed.
Frank wished his sister would stop asking. ‘His flight was delayed. He texted.’
Milo had booked the whole upstairs of Basilico, one of Carlton’s cosiest modern Italian bistros. A chalkboard menu and vintage Pates Baroni and Campari posters hung from the cream coloured walls. Simple square tables were placed in a line. Dishes of arancini, bruschetta, mini calzones, prosciutto and melon, and little snack-sized bowls of gnocchi and pasta were ranged around an elaborate birthday cake, the candles unlit. It had almost everything Frank could ask for.
Milo and Frank considered Basilico “their place”, only ten minutes from their home. The owners treated them like special though wayward sons.
Frank found the atmosphere considerably less special without his partner in it.
Cody 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
