Majorca Flats -- 123

“Well, I was even more stupid than that. I tried to introduce him to my friends. They were so snotty. They patronised him and were icily polite and made comments about him which they thought went over his head, but he knew what they were doing. He knew. He was much cleverer than any of them.” Jason stared at the bar, far away on the other side of the room, for many many heartbeats. “We were fine together. We were so happy in bed; going out to eat; going to the pub with his friends; being together. But I think he … I … oh, fuck, I was so stupid. All right. Confession time. I have a lot of money. I had a lot of money. My family is rich. And Brent wasn't.” Again Jason looked away. He sighed.

“How can I have been so blind? Anyway, he felt the difference between us, between all my money and my family and all that stuff, which didn't the fuck matter. It didn't. And he tried to keep up. So he started stealing money from his work and from his cricket club. 'Borrowing' he called it. And they found out.”

Yet again, Jason stopped. He covered his eyes with his hands, letting go the other two men. Then in complete silence, he shook his head.

“Hey, Keith, could I have something to drink?” he said at last.

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