Hard Tail (20 page)

It was slightly worrying to realise I cared more about Matt’s good opinion than about my family’s. Doubly so, as there was a good chance Matt’s opinion of me was tarnished beyond recovery in any case.

So. No dash to the hospital, then. I looked at my watch. There was barely time to make it to karate, and I seriously considered missing training—but sitting at home worrying wasn’t going to do me any good. Better to go and improve my fighting techniques, ready for the first gay-bashing.

Not that I was being unduly pessimistic about the whole bloody mess, of course.

I got there just as the warm-up was starting. Sensei mimed tapping a non-existent watch as I got into line next to John, so when we got onto basics, I was extra conscientious about doing the techniques correctly. It helped take my mind off things, anyway.

“Good night, last night, was it?” John murmured as we waited for the next command.

My stomach lurched—and then I realised, feeling like an idiot, that he’d only been referring to my lateness. “Bit mixed, really,” I told him truthfully.

“Oh? I’d been hoping that one of us, at least, had got lucky.”

“Luck takes one look at me and runs for the hills,” I muttered, just before Sensei bellowed at us again.

I certainly hadn’t been lucky enough to have Pritchard miss the class again. He glowered at me from a few places down the line. Not feeling in the mood for a confrontation, when we split into pairs for
kumite
I made sure I grabbed John and dragged him over to the other side of the dojo where we could practice our set attacks and retaliations in peace.

Trouble was, we were told to change partners several times, and each swap seemed to bring me closer and closer to Pritchard. We were almost side-by-side—and then Sensei bellowed at us to get back in line. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to head back—only to find myself sprawling to the floor as something took my foot out from under me.

I was pretty certain that
something
had been Pritchard’s outstretched foot.

I fell awkwardly and landed heavily, throwing out my right arm to try to break my fall. It mainly succeeded in jarring my shoulder, and I winced at the pain.

“Are you all right?” John asked, reaching down a hand. I took it with my left, and he pulled me up easily.

“You wanna watch where you’re going,” Prick-tard muttered at me, looking as if he’d have liked nothing better than to give me a good kicking while I was down.

“Are you all right, Mr. Knight?” Sensei bounded over with a look of concern.

“I’m fine,” I said through teeth I was trying very hard not to grit. “Just tripped. Not sure what over, though,” I added with a look over at Prick-tard that was so pointed it could have etched glass.

Sensei must have seen me glaring but decided not to pursue the matter. Maybe he thought it best to just let things blow over. Or maybe he realised I’d have been a bit more direct in accusing Pritchard if I’d actually had any evidence—even that of my own eyes—that he’d deliberately tripped me.

“What on earth has Pit-bull got against you?” John murmured in my ear as we got back into line. “Did you sleep with his girlfriend or something?”

Pit-bull Pritchard with a girlfriend… Now that was a scary thought. I wondered what she’d be like. Brash and common? No—someone like that might be tempted to argue with him, and I didn’t reckon Prick-tard would go for that at all. No, she was probably small, mousey and timid, too terrified to have an opinion of her own in case Prick-tard disagreed. “Well, he knows about the bike shop. Maybe Jay once sold him a dodgy pump adaptor?”

When the session finished, I made sure I kept an eye on Pritchard in case he was tempted to go for the double. He made do with glaring at me, and I managed to get home without getting into a fight.

I had a quick shower and some beans on toast, feeling positively virtuous at the moderately healthy meal. And I hadn’t used the microwave at all.

Then I forced myself to go and visit Jay. Whatever happened, at least I’d know where I stood. For now, at least.

“Hi!” I said brightly, bounding into Jay’s room, nervous excitement giving me wings no energy drink could match. “How are you? Feeling any better today?”

Jay looked up from the mountain bike magazine he was leafing through. “I’m all right. You look like you’ve had a bit too much caffeine, though. Either that or you’ve been nicking my drugs.”

“I’m fine!” I said a bit too loudly. “Um. Have you seen Matt?” I mentally crossed my fingers. Surely if Matt had been in to spill the beans, Jay would have mentioned it straight away?

“Yeah—he came in last night.” Jay grinned. “Bit of an interesting visit.”

Oh, bugger. “Really?” I squawked.

“You got a sore throat or something? Yeah, he had to wait until Mum went home, though.” Jay laughed. “He told me all about you—I can’t believe it!”

I swallowed. “Um…”

“Showing this kind of stuff to kids! You can get in trouble for that, you know!” He turned the bike mag around to show me the magazine he’d concealed inside, and with a sense of relief so profound I nearly collapsed under the force of it, I recognised Samantha, age twenty-three, who apparently liked dancing and looking after the elderly. Although hopefully with a few more clothes on than she was wearing in this particular picture.

“Oh, that!” I froze, hoping I hadn’t given myself away, then realised standing there gaping like a dead fish wasn’t exactly going to allay suspicion. “That was entirely unintentional!” I finished hurriedly.

“Should bloody well hope so! Now, how’s the shop going? Really—I mean, takings and stuff.”

Pleased to get back to my area of expertise, I gave him a quick run-down, making it even quicker when I realised his eyes were starting to glaze over. “So in summary, takings are up on the last few weeks, but I assume that’s just seasonal. Oh, and I signed you up to a local business directory, and I’ve been thinking about promotions—there’s no reason why we can’t spread the servicing work out over the year a bit more, and it’d be good to attract some new customers…” I noticed Jay wasn’t exactly looking overjoyed. “What? I thought you’d be pleased I wasn’t running the business into the ground.”

“Yeah, but…” Jay waved at Frankenstein’s leg. “Just feeling a bit useless, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” I said with false heartiness. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Jay brightened a bit. “Have been already, actually, although they told me I won’t be able to go home for a while yet.” He grinned. “Although I reckon it might be just the hospital trying to get as much money as they can out of the insurers.”

“Well, if your doctors are telling you to stay in hospital, I think you should listen to them,” I said piously, mentally crossing my fingers Jay wouldn’t realise there was an element of self-interest there. “So how did the walking go, anyway?”

“Oh, you know. Stiff, painful—but it was good to get off the bloody bed for a bit.”

I gave him a look. “Never thought I’d see you desperate to get out of bed. Usually it’s the other way around.”

“Tell you what, I’m getting desperate for a bit of that too. Olivia couldn’t make it in to see me yesterday.”

“Are you telling me you and Olivia have been…here? In the hospital? With your leg like that?” I boggled. “Didn’t it, well, hurt? Come to that, is it even possible with all that scaffolding screwed on?”

Jay leered. “Trust me, Olivia’s a very inventive girl.”

Maybe my mental image of her as the Ice Maiden was a lot further from the truth than I’d thought.

Chapter Fifteen

Monday morning, the coffee in my stomach felt like cement in a mixer as I waited for Matt to turn up to work. God, what was I going to say to him now he knew I’d lied to him—by omission, even if not directly—about my sexuality?

How would Jay handle a situation like this? Simple: he wouldn’t get into this situation in the first place. But if he did… I tried to imagine what he’d say: “Oh, Matt? Thought I’d try being a poof for a bit. See how it goes. Yeah, bit of a snap decision. Your mate Adam’s a right goer, isn’t he? I’m well in there. Right, back to work…”

There was no way on this earth I could say anything like that to Matt—

The door jangled, and Matt stepped through, managing to stay upright this time. He gave me a wary look, and my butterfly-filled intestines tied themselves in guilty knots, no doubt breaking a fair few wings in the process. I took a deep breath. “Matt… I’m really sorry,” I said awkwardly.

“What?” Matt frowned, walking towards me. “What for?”

“For, well, lying to you. Saying I hadn’t gone out when I obviously had. And, um, the other stuff.”

The slight creases on his brow smoothed away instantly. “Hey, it’s all right. I get it—you’re not out. It’s not a problem. And don’t worry—I won’t say a word to anyone. ’Specially Jay, if you don’t want me to.” He stared at me earnestly, and I felt ashamed of myself—firstly for lying, and secondly for doubting him. “I know what it’s like, okay? I’d never out anyone who didn’t want it.”

“Matt,” I said, the weight of the world slipping off my far-too-narrow shoulders, “you’re a star. Thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. And, you know, I am glad.”

He was glad I was gay?

God knows what my face looked like as he rushed on. “About you and Adam, I mean. He’s a good bloke. A good mate. He won’t let you down.”

I believed him. I wished I could be so sure about myself, however.

Matt disappeared into the back room, and I didn’t see him again until lunchtime, when he emerged holding a foil-wrapped package. “Got your lunch, here,” he said, holding it out. “Wraps again.”

I reached out a bit too eagerly to take it and ended up hissing as my shoulder twinged.

“Are you all right?” Matt asked, frowning.

I rotated my shoulder carefully. “Bit stiff from karate yesterday,” I said without thinking.

“You do karate?” There was something about Matt’s tone as he asked that made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I was used to people disbelieving me, asking an incredulous
You? Why?
—but this was something different.

“Er, yes. I got my black belt quite recently,” I added, feeling a sort of defensive pride.

If I was after congratulations, I didn’t get them. Matt didn’t even give me the tired old
What, are they giving them away these days?
“Oh,” was all Matt said. What was up with him? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it—and then it hit me: he was wearing the sort of expression I’d always expected to see on people’s faces if I ever announced I fancied blokes.

“What? You don’t approve of martial arts?” I asked a bit sharply.

“No—I mean, no, I haven’t got a problem with… I just didn’t think you were the type, that’s all.” Matt stared unhappily at his trainer-clad toes, as if they’d just announced they were leaving him to run off with a pair of Gucci loafers.

“The type?” I checked myself. “You get all sorts at karate classes, you know,” I went on in a hopefully less defensive tone. “Kids with their dads. Or their mums. Girls who want to know a bit of self-defence. Boys who’ve been bullied at school and need a bit of physical self-confidence. It’s a good sport,” I finished a bit weakly.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Matt’s face was still hidden in a mass of shaggy curls as he stared resolutely at the floor.

“I mean, sometimes you get someone who’s a bit of an arse,” I admitted. “Take the class I’m going to down here—there’s one guy who’s the sort who gives the sport a bad name. But we’re not all vicious thugs like Prick-tard, sorry, Pritchard.”

Matt’s head shot up. “Pritchard? Steve Pritchard?”

A hot, uncomfortable feeling spread across my chest. Why the hell hadn’t it occurred to me the bastard might be someone he knew? “I don’t know his first name—the others all call him Pit-bull,” I added, more or less on the principle that blame shared is blame halved.

Then it hit me. “Wait—Steve?
Your
Steve?”

Matt nodded jerkily. “Class down in Totton, right?” He tried to smile. “Yeah, that’s him.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him. Pit-bull Pritchard was Matt’s
boyfriend
? “What the hell is his problem?” I burst out. “You know what he called me? A
fucking poofter
! What kind of gay bloke goes around saying that kind of thing?”

“He’s…he’s just not out, that’s all,” Matt said, and I hated to see him defending the arsehole. “Like you,” he added.

My blood froze in my veins. Then it boiled. “’Pit-bull’ Pritchard is
nothing
like me,” I snapped. “He’s a vicious, bullying thug. Christ, Matt, I can’t believe you’re with him!” I turned away, my fists clenching of their own accord, and struggled to calm myself.

By the time I’d got my breathing under control and turned back, Matt had disappeared.

Shit.

I made my way into the back room. Matt was leaning against the worktop hugging himself. He didn’t even look up when I came in. I felt like the worst bastard in the entire history of bastardry. I’d just been a complete git about the man he—against all laws of common decency, not to mention credulity—apparently loved. “Matt?” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”