Chapter 2

I went back into the changing room and glanced at myself in the mirror. Disappointingly, twenty minutes on the treadmill had not turned me into an Adonis. I was sweating very unattractively. But at least I still had all my hair. That’s kind of my mantra. Every time I start getting morbid about being a fat old man who would never have sex again, I think, “At least I still have my hair!” Like someone would want to go to bed with me for my hair.

A long hot shower cheered me up a bit. Or at least eased the aches and pains from the session on the treadmill. I should stop fretting about the sex part. I’d had sex since Bill died, even if they were just casual one-off. If I wanted it again I knew where to go. There were a couple of saunas I’d been told about, though that wasn’t really my thing; nameless and casual like that. But maybe if I got desperate enough I’d go.

I stopped in the empty reception area on my way out and took a look at the board with photos of all the staff members on it. Hewas right up top—the smile and nod guy was the boss. Chris Bennett, manager.

“Hi.”

Shit, he was right behind me. I’d been so busy studying the pictures I hadn’t heard him. I tried not to jump three feet in the air.

“I think you’re the last out,” he said. I glanced at the clock. It was ten past nine. The place closed at nine.

“Sorry.” I’d taken way too long in the shower. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No rush. You’re a new member, right?”

It was a small establishment, I supposed. Most of the members were probably locals.

“Yes, just joined.” Oh, snappy comeback. Not.I offered my hand for a shake—or anything else he cared to do with it. “Daniel Goldstein.”

“Chris Bennett,” he said, shaking my hand, then gesturing at the photo board. “But you know that.”

Did he hold onto my hand a little longer than needed, or was I fantasising? He was smiling at me, and…shit, I was going for it.

“Can I buy you a drink, Chris?”

He still had a hold of my hand. He looked thoughtful for a second, then he nodded. “I’d like that.” He let go and my arm felt like it would freeze up and crack off when it lost the warmth of his impressively large hand. “I need to lock up. That will take me about ten minutes. Do you know The Queen’s Head?”

“Intimately.” Hey, it’s only the literal truth. Any double meanings there are entirely in your head, not mine.

“Then I’ll see you there in ten.”

He said yes. I’ve still got it. Holy crap, now what?

“What can I order for you?” I asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as if I bought hot guys drinks every day.

“Diet Coke.”

Well, I should have expected that, since he clearly didn’t abuse thatbody with alcohol. So I smiled and said, “See you soon,” in a painfully awkward attempt to sound casual.

* * * *

“Two Diet Cokes,” I said to Jess in the Queen’s Head.

“What are you, ill?”

“Just pour them.”

“You know you can’t bring children in here at this time of night.”

“Save the comedy for open mike night, please.” I slapped down the money, not in the mood for jokes, suddenly nervous as hell. Was I sweating again? I hadn’t taken long enough to cool down after my shower before getting dressed. I hated that I sweat too much. I should probably see a doctor about it. Is it an age thing? Or a weight thing?

I took the two diet pops to a table in clear view of the door and waited. I sipped mine. So sweet. Maybe I should get used to it, though. Alcohol was fattening. I’m not saying I’m a big drinker, but I like a pint or two. Or three. But you get to the age where you can’t get away with it any more, don’t you?

Chris showed up a couple of minutes later, jeans replacing the track suit pants he wore in the gym, a fleece over his uniform polo shirt. So hestill gets away with wearing jeans. A few more sessions at the gym and I’d be back into mine, I swore it. He spotted me and headed over, getting a couple of admiring glances along the way.

The Queen’s is mostly an older crowd, lots of couples. The boys generally go to the nightclubs. But there were always a few younger lads around—skint ones looking for someone to buy them free drinks probably. And even a couple of them looked at Chris. Maybe I should have taken that as a warning. He could have anyone. Why would he want me? But he’d said yes to a drink.