Cocktails and Cockpics - A Grinder Love Story by Chris Tracey

Author:Chris Tracey [Tracey, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Gay Boy Publishing
Published: 2011-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The explosions and multicoloured excitement of Blackheath's fireworks were a foreign, distant dream to Peter and Blake the following Saturday night.

For the first time in five years they stayed at home, painfully hung over and vaguely remorseful, missing the glittering, fiery pleasure of bonfire night. That night, so looked forward to like a lit up jewel in the otherwise drear and depressing bleakness of winter, was closed to them.

They couldn't face the crowds of gays from the pub that would be up there on the heath enjoying the evening. And, moreover, a stern and disappointed Rose had banned them as punishment.

The fantastic explosions and sparkling shimmers seemed to taunt them in the drawing room of 151 and even the thick curtains couldn't block out the many colours that lit up the night's sky.

The beats had dropped on the euphoric dance anthem that had been their life for the last few weeks. When the tune would kick back in they didn't know. But it was clear the track had yet to climax.

As Peter nursed his hangover with many a sigh and Blake reviewed the comments on his blog with an increasing horror Rose and Beefy were excitedly enjoying the spectacular fireworks display atop Blackheath.

Around them crowds of well wrapped up revellers surged, the smell of popcorn and roasted nuts was a delight and even a mist crept up from Greenwich park. In the distance the towers of Canary Wharf seemed like mysterious mountains of heavenly light.

'Will you be able to work things out with Jose?' Rose asked tentatively to the sound of a thousand glittering explosions.

'What, the catwalk?' Beefy said immediately and took a mouthful of beefburger, 'Yeah we'll get it sorted,' he said nodding his head vigorously.

Rose paused. She took a breath. She pulled her grandmother's fur coat around her against the cold. Underneath she wore an exquisite sweater which suited her very well and a flared pair of sensible cords. On her head an inappropriate and huge floppy hat. She spoke.

'On, no, I mean Jose and you.'

'Oh yes, Jose and me. We'll be fine,' he said backtracking somewhat, 'That is I'm sure we'll be fine. I love reunions,' he mumbled under his breath.

Thinking he was much more blasé about his argument with Jose than he seemed last night she said tentatively, 'Where is Jose tonight? If you want to get back to him...'. She trailed off and glanced at the incredible curve of Beefy's chin, his narrow temples and robust neck illuminated dramatically by the fireworks.

'Jose's Catholic,' Beefy said rapidly, hoping that his quickly found excuse would fool Rose. It did; she nodded knowingly.

Comfortable in Beefy's presence Rose oohed and ahhed and, once, at the sight of an incredible silver curtain of sparkles Rose practically squeaked.

Smiling at her girlish joy, so different to Sibel's cold demeanour, there was nothing Beefy wanted to do more at that moment than to take Rose's tiny frame in his strong arms. He pictured her pink lips acquiescing to his, her soft cheek against his and her hands on his neck.

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