Stars, Cars and Crystal Meth by Jack Sutherland

Author:Jack Sutherland [Jack Sutherland]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780571323548
Publisher: Faber & Faber
Published: 2016-03-14T04:00:00+00:00

On my second day as general manager – operations, I was driving to yet another meeting with a couple of other top execs. We were in a luxury SUV. They’re big vehicles, but they jam you close enough to smell other guys’ aftershave. Out of the blue, one of them asks me, ‘Jack. Are you gay?’ Another three little words. Normally it would mean nothing to me. It was small talk. He could have as easily asked, ‘You smoke, Jack?’ or, ‘You miss England, Jack?’ And I would normally have shot back something smart-ass like, ‘Fuck, yeah, but you’ll have to wait till we get out of this van if you want to blow me.’

Instead, I said, ‘No.’ I said, ‘I’m not gay.’ Why did I say that? Because, in an odd kind of way, I was thirteen years old again, denying myself. My nerve had cracked. There was so much tension. So many guys were being let go. That sad sight – men, who a week ago were ‘businessmen’, turning in their car keys, parking permits and BlackBerries, carrying cardboard boxes with their pathetic-looking belongings, security – men who yesterday bowed and scraped to them – checking to make sure there was nothing in the boxes that now didn’t belong to them. You feel the guillotine blade on your own neck when you see that, day in, day out. And you say, or do, something stupid.

‘I just wanted to know,’ the guy added. Nothing to him. It should, of course, have been nothing to me. Then the conversation turned, casually, to other matters.

After ten minutes, I blurted out, clumsily, ‘Yes, I am gay. I’m sorry for saying I’m not. I just wasn’t expecting your question.’

I handled it so clumsily I still kick myself and moan when I think of it. Being gay or straight wasn’t the issue. On virtually my first day in the job I’d demonstrated, conclusively, to a vanload of blabbermouths, that Jack was weak. Word would get around. About the weakness, that is. Everyone close to me in the industry knew I was gay – no big deal. It wasn’t talked about not because it was a big secret but because it didn’t matter. There were a lot of us around. But I felt like a carpet had been pulled out from underneath me. And, of course, it did get out. There were snide jokes – ‘You a friend of George Michael, Jack?’ some bastard asked, all innocent. There are always little pockets of homophobic pus waiting to erupt, wherever you work.

I did the new job well, I believe. But I felt like shit. My new position was so demanding. Every week new budget figures were issued, requiring cuts. Friends carrying those sad cardboard boxes in the lobby. And I was the guy doing the cutting. Empire was tightening the firm up: cutting away all the Horky fat. Liposuction with an axe.

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