Chapter Seventeen
It took a month. Four whole weeks for Seb to get everything sorted in New York and rake up the funds to venture back across the pond, regardless of how many times Jay offered to pay for a flight for him. Seb had maintained he could scrape together enough money to get him back to London, especially after securing a few cash in hand gigs in the city while Martin and Noah were still there.
In that time, Jay’s first season playing professional football had been going pretty well. He’d got off the bench and into the starting line-up for the first few games. His scoring record had increased, putting him firmly on the radar of all the sports journalists, making up for going AWOL in New York. His head was down, his game play on and his life going the way he wanted it. There were still a few loose ends to tie up, and the apprehension with dealing with those were getting the better of him as he drove through the midday traffic along the M4 heading down to Heathrow airport.
“Why you so nervous, man?”
Jay eyed his brother in the passenger seat. Bryan had obviously noticed that Jay’s grip on the steering wheel of the bright orange and black VW Golf GTI made his knuckles white. Jay focused his attention back to the road, cracking his neck from side to side. As much as he’d been grateful for his brother having managed to purchase a brand-new car for him, he could have done without it being quite so conspicuous. He should have given Bryan specifics on what he’d been after with regards to a runaround motor. The lowered body kit and bursting exhaust from the modified sports coupe wouldn’t have been Jay’s first choice when he’d been actively avoiding any undue attention.
“I ain’t.”
“Bullshit.” Bryan tapped out a message on his mobile phone, then cackled at an incoming message. It seemed Bryan had delight in notifying his mates that his brother now owned a car they could only dream of. Although Jay had refused Bryan the opportunity to take the motor down Southend High Street with all the other modified racers to stick two fingers up at all the haters.
“Is it seeing him?” Bryan tucked his phone back into his pocket.
“No.” Jay sighed. “Maybe a little. I mean, how do I play this?” He shifted in the leather racer seat that moulded to his arse. “Do I kiss him there in the arrivals lounge in front of you, and everyone else? Or should I just hug him like welcoming an old mate? Or do I shake hands like the terrified closeted bloke I am?”
“Want my two pennies worth?”
“Not really.”
“Good. I’ll give it ya then.” Bryan scratched the beard he’d fully grown out since having his daughter, claiming he had no time for grooming. “You think too much. And I have no idea where you got that from. None of us other Ruttmans have the thinking problem.”
Jay edged the car into the outside lane, overtaking the slowest vehicles on earth. Or perhaps it was the new car making him feel like he wasn’t going the eighty miles an hour his speedometer suggested he was.
“Take a leaf out your fella’s book and let him lead? Although, if he starts to grope you in public, you can probably put a stop to that. I’m all on board with this man-on-man action you got going on, but even I have me limits.”
Jay snorted. “Cheers for coming, by the way.”
“No problem. My one day off in the week and I’d only be spending it clearing up milk and sick and consoling Chezza over not being able to get into the Miss Sixty jeans she bought on sale before she got pregnant.”
Jay chuckled, and it helped to clear the butterflies in his stomach. They’d been there since that morning. Since he’d read the text forwarding Seb’s flight details and arrival time at Heathrow airport. It’s just anticipation, right? Seeing him again?
Truth was, Jay had a gut load of anticipation and it wasn’t all to do with seeing Seb and starting an actual real relationship. Jay still wasn’t fully out yet and, he supposed, Seb would assume he was, or at least on the road to it. Jay had his apprehensions about that. He loved Seb, that much he knew. When he was with him, he didn’t care about anyone else or how his football team would react if they knew, or the fans, or the opposing crowds.
But at training on the first day back after pre-season, the regular banter between his team mates about wives, girlfriends, nights out, hell, even football, had caused heaviness in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake off. How would his teammates take the news that he was shacked up with another man? How would the crowds take it? How would the media take it? Jay’s face had featured in the tabloids the more he’d been on the pitch, meaning he wasn’t able to hide among the shadows like he once would have.
Still, none of that even compared to what he still hadn’t been able to do.
“So, how you playing it tonight?” Bryan snapped Jay out of his daze.
“What d’ya mean?”
“Do you wanna go in all offside trap on the folks, or are we easing them into position gently, or are you just gonna run to goal on your own with it?”
Jay darted his confused gaze from the road ahead to his brother.
“Sunday roast night, little bro. I told Ma you were bringin’ someone.” Bryan grinned, then winced.
Jay slammed his head back on the rest, the slow-moving traffic toward Terminal Five Heathrow arrivals pissing him off almost as much as his brother’s loose gob. He’d actually hoped he’d have a little time with Seb on his own before he had to do the big ‘meet the parents’ gig, which would, in turn, be his ‘coming out’ shindig. He needed more time to prepare. Prepare Seb that is.
“It slipped out.” Bryan scratched his beard. “She called asking why you weren’t comin’ round, bangin’ on about how you’ve not been to a Sunday dinner in a while and that you ain’t spent no time with Lily…”
“I’ve been busy, Bry. Y’know, start of the season and that?”
“I know. But Ma, well, she was a bit upset. So I told her you was picking someone up from the airport. She then got all excited, and, well, I just thought this way we can kill two defenders with one boot.”
“What?”
“Tell everyone all at once. No point pussy footing around it.”
“You think that’s fair on Seb? Putting him in all that right away?”
“Surely you were gonna have to do it at some point? I mean, you’re moving him in.” Bryan shrugged. “That is if you’re still sure about this whole ‘shacking up together straight away’ shit?”
Jay gave his brother a look he hoped would convey that it was a bit too late to be concerned about that now.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for ya, mate. You’ve been moping around like your fucking puppy died for far too long. But you know when you start living with someone you realise how fucking annoying they are?” Bryan held up a finger to count the digits. “They insist you wipe the piss off the loo seat even when there is no proof it was actually you who left it there. They constantly crank the heating up to make the house a sodding sauna, sending the heating bill reaching the national debt levels of Africa. They’ll hide all the good biscuits that come out in plentiful when you got company but can’t find them for all the tea in China when you get a ten-minute window in your deliveries to sneak home for a cuppa and a chocolate Hobnob.” Bryan heaved a deep breath and prodded Jay’s arm. “Plus you’ll find out he only saves the sexy matching lingerie from Victoria’s Secret for the times you go out. Day to day, it’s all comfort mismatched cotton briefs and T-shirt bras from Florence and fucking Fred that hang on the pissing clothes horse that you need a degree in engineering to put the shitty thing away.”
Jay raised an eyebrow.
“Well, yeah, I guess you don’t have to worry too much about the last one.” He nodded toward the traffic. “Chuck a left, mate.”
Shifting the car into the left-hand lane, Jay ignored the sinking feeling in his gut to cruise into the pickup point of the airport. He shuffled in the seat, peering out of the window at those dotted around outside the glass-fronted arrivals lounge. Seb would be waiting along the strip somewhere. His plane had landed when Jay had been stuck on the North Circular mid-morning pile up at Brent Park. So allowing for another half-hour or so for Seb to get off the plane, collect his cases and have the argument with the oversized baggage handlers who would most probably be too rough-handed with Seb’s ridiculously expensive guitar would have put him at the pick-up area fifteen or twenty minutes ago.
Jay swallowed, lifting his foot off the accelerator and Bryan squinted out of his passenger window. Halfway along the lay-by, Seb sat on top of an overstuffed black suitcase, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, and flicking through a mobile phone. Another holdall lay bunched on the ground next to him, along with a guitar case decorated with stickers. Jay rammed on the brakes and swung the wheel to straighten the car.
“Fuck me.” Bryan shifted in the seat. “You weren’t wrong about the bloke looking like he’d just stepped off the stage at Glastonbury.”
Jay snorted, lifting the hand break. He couldn’t prevent the smile from attacking his face. Seb was in his usual ensemble—tight jeans, fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed arms, and his hair a styled mess. Jay even noted flecks of deep red running through it. Clearly Seb hadn’t had time to wash out the spray-on colour after his latest gig.
Bryan slapped Jay’s leg. “Hop to it, Romeo.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Jay stepped out of the car. Seb didn’t even peer up from his mobile, so Jay meandered around the bonnet, attempting to get a hold on his fluttering stomach. But there was no point. As soon as Seb’s dark eyes found his, Jay wasn’t able to control any emotional response.
Seb bounded up from his suitcase, slipped his phone in his back pocket and stepped in front of Jay. There was no hesitation, not on Seb’s part—he leaned in to press his lips onto Jay’s. Forgetting his surroundings, Jay closed his eyes and the world swirled into insignificance. The bustling people, the cars passing, even his brother watching from the passenger seat of the ridiculous car didn’t compare one iota to the warmth engulfing him from Seb’s lips.
“I’ve been looking forward to doing that,” Seb whispered, brushing the tip of his nose down Jay’s.
Instinct, or desire, took over, and Jay slid his hands onto Seb’s hips and tugged him closer for a deeper kiss.
“Oi!” Bryan yanked open the passenger door and folded his arms over the top. “Break it up, you two. Don’t make me get the ice bucket out.”
Jay stepped away, his arms falling from Seb’s waist and mouthed fuck you.
“Seb, you remember my brother, Bryan. Bryan, Seb.”
Seb wiped a hand on his jeans and held it out. “Of course. Nice to meet you. Again.”
“Likewise.” Bryan shook Seb’s hand over the top of the car door. “Although this is, like, the official meetin’ of the boyfriend this time, right?”
Seb smiled. “Right.”
“So, you’re the bloke who makes my little brother make noises I ain’t heard since we used to play tennis against each other at Butlins in Skeggy.” Bryan rocked his hips back and forward, grunting. “Gave Sharapova a run for her Wimbledon winnings.”
Scowling, Jay hoped he’d come across like he had no problem committing sibling murder. Which was now the second time in as many minutes.
“Well, if that’s the case, then I want to know what he was doing with the end of that racket.” Seb winked.
Bryan bellowed out a laugh and slapped Seb on the back. “We might get on.” He shoved Jay’s arm and nodded to the luggage.
Jay tutted and gathered what he could lift. “You can handle Wendy.” Jay told Seb.
“Who the fuck is Wendy?” Bryan elevated his voice. “You ain’t never said this was a three-way relationship.”
“He’s referring to my other one true love.” Seb wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “But, sadly, she’s departed to pastures new.”
“What? Why?” Jay peered over the open boot.
“Technically, she belongs to my father. The business. Whatever. But I managed to sell her to a guy who’s starting out, which incidentally paid for my air fare here, so…Win, win, as my father would say.”
Jay’s mouth dropped. That had been Seb’s prized possession. And, quite possibly, the thing that had brought the two of them together in the first place.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Jay meant it. He would have paid for the blasted plane ticket.
“I told you, Jay, it’s fine. I’ll start new. With no ties to that old life. That includes Wendy.”
“So who’s that?” Jay nodded to the case laid at Seb’s feet.
“This is an old acoustic one I got dirt cheap years ago.” Seb handed the sticker-laden brown case over to Jay. “Martin’s on the lookout for something I can use for gigs. He thinks he might be able to swing his father into buying him a Gibson that I can borrow.”
“Why does it have to be a Gibson?” Jay slammed the boot. He didn’t know much about guitars, but what he had learned since meeting Seb was that his Gibson guitar was one of the most expensive brands.
“What do you prefer, Champ? Cheap knock-off football boots or Adidas finest?”
“Personally, I prefer the light weight of Nike’s Mercurial Vapours. They give that extra one percent, y’know?”
Seb wrinkled his brow.
Jay chuckled. “All right. I get what you mean.”
“Anyway,” Bryan interrupted, holding out his hand to Jay. “Keys, baby bruv. I’m driving.”
“Get lost.”
“Jay, we gotta be places tonight, and with you at the wheel that might not happen.”
“What’s wrong with his driving?” Seb angled his head toward Jay.
“Ain’t you been in a car with him behind the wheel yet? Then we’ll save that for a different Sunday afternoon. A lazy one. As that’s exactly how the boy drives.” Bryan pointed an accusing finger at his brother. “Like a fucking granddad. This car”—he ran a hand over the top of the shiny orange paintwork—”deserves to be driven properly. It just won’t be fulfilled in life if it doesn’t reach the speeds God intended for it. All the other cars in the showroom will laugh.” Bryan pouted. “Besides, I am the professional driver here.”
“You’re a delivery driver, Bry.”
“And how is that not a profession? Get in the back, Rutters. I’m driving. Seb’s my passenger. Me an’ him have got stuff to discuss.”
Admitting defeat, Jay threw the keys to his brother. Bryan squealed, launching into the driver’s side while Jay settled into the back, reluctantly allowing Seb to fill the passenger seat.
“Seat belt on, fella.” Bryan clicked his belt it into place. “You ain’t in Kansas anymore.”
Seb swivelled in the chair. “Nice car, by the way.”
Jay rolled his eyes, glaring daggers into the back of his brother’s head. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
Seb chuckled.
“Now let’s see what this baby can do.” Bryan revved the engine, then pulled out onto the road leading away from the terminal. “Right, first things first, Seb, my son. Are you a leg or breast man?”
Seb tightened his grip on the passenger grab handle, preventing himself from being launched into the door. “What?”
“Chicken? Sunday roast? And don’t tell me you’re a veggie!”
Jay pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, um, no.” Seb shifted in the seat, throwing a confused glance over his shoulder.
“My parents. Tradition. You can say no.” It was all Jay could offer at that moment, what with the car throwing him around in the back.
“Right.” Seb twisted to face front, his shoulders markedly stiffening. “That’s…cool. Although…” He turned and grinned. “I’d say I’m more a red meat kind of guy. Rump.”
Bryan cackled. “So I’ve heard.”
Jay rolled his eyes, his temple now pinching his brain. Perhaps allowing Seb to meet his brother first hadn’t been the best idea. And that was when his stomach swished back to heavy mush. Tonight, he’d be introducing Seb to his parents and stepping his second foot out of the closet. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he watched out of the window and zoned out of the conversation up front.
As much as he’d been nervous at Bryan meeting Seb, what with the class divide and how his brother didn’t mince his words, Jay needn’t have worried. They got on like a house on fire. Even Bryan’s interrogations of every aspect of Seb’s life, what with Seb having been born with a silver spoon up his arse, Seb took it all on the chin. Even offering his own banter, and Bryan didn’t bat an eyelid at any of the sexual innuendos to do with Jay being gay.
Jay, though, wasn’t sure his old man would be so nonchalant. John Ruttman didn’t roam in those circles. It wasn’t something that his dad could brag about to all his mates down Plaistow Working Man’s club. John wasn’t only from a different generation, he was from a whole different class of male. He’d been a footballer himself. Not Jay’s level, but lower league. He knew exactly what the changing room banter was like, what the crowds were like, and what Jay would be facing. And all that was why Jay hadn’t been able to tell his folks about Seb yet. He’d put it off, and off, until now he had no choice. He just hoped Seb would understand why.
“You know, this ain’t half bad.” Bryan’s voice interrupted Jay’s unravelling thoughts. Oh. The music blasting from the speakers wasn’t Radio One’s usual playlist, but one of Seb’s own upbeat rock numbers.
“Thanks.” Seb grinned.
“I mean, when Jay told me you were a singer in a band and, y’know, a gay, I had visions of a Wham comeback or Village People tribute.”
Jay shook his head, exasperated.
“This, though, this is quality shit. Could even play this to me mates.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Seb switched the in-car CD to the next track.
Bryan cackled and screeched the car into a lay-by. That journey had gone pretty quick. Seb glanced out of the window, eyeing the luxury apartments set up against the river in Limehouse.
“You know, had I thought about it, I could have got you a better deal with the new build along Putney.” Seb twisted in his seat, facing Jay. “You get more bang for your buck with a Saunders & Son build.”
“Out west? Nah.” Jay shouldered open the door and stepped out, Seb following suit. “When training starts at eight a.m. sharp, I ain’t fighting the Blackwall Tunnel for love nor money.”
“I’m hurt, Rutters.”
“You’ll live.”
“Yeah. In the east end, it would seem.”
Bryan lowered the window on the passenger side and leaned over the hand brake. “I’m taking the car round to show Mitchell, let him wet his knickers a bit. Then I’ll go pick up Chez and Lily then swing back to you. Give you two a little time to, y’know, get settled in or whatever, work out your game play, tactics, before the main event.”
Jay pointed a finger. “If there’s one scratch on this car when you return it—”
Bryan zapped the window up, waving his hand by his ear and mouthing ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you.’ Jay stepped forward, reaching for the door handle until Seb wrapped his hand over his.
“C’mon, Champ. Show me this new gaff of yours.”