“Yeah, but Tom makes everyone feel special. If he takes a fancy to you, that is. Give it time: he'll be patting your arse.”
“Well, when that happens I'll start looking for another job.”
“That's what happens all the time. He hits on the staff and they leave.”
“Why did you stay?”
“I dunno. Laziness. And I'm fond of him. He was famous once.”
“For what?”
“He was a rock star. Tom Falloway.”
“That is Tom Falloway? You're joking?”
“No. All those drugs, all that high living, all that money … it fucks you up.”
“And now he manages a gay pub. And has lost all his hair.”
“That'll happen to all of us, one day.”
“Well, that's as maybe, but I can tell you, I wouldn't have a comb-over! Or shoulder-length strands with a bald pate on top!”
Keith grinned. “You're right. You'd look much better with a buzz cut of what's left, stubble, and loads of studs.”
“Why doesn't Tom do that?”
“I dunno. The Rock Star look I suppose. But he just looks dodgy instead.”
“So … are you still sleeping with him?”
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