Something Different by T. Baggins Page A

usual place there that Saturday night, beneath a picture of Dale in a sweet pink neckerchief, faithful steed Buttermilk at her side.
    James was drinking a bit of coconut rum drowned in Diet Coke. Not much of a cocktail, but when it came to alcohol, he was a featherweight. Recalling the day of the clinic visit, James still couldn't believe he'd downed three premium margaritas and somehow made it to the loo before puking all over Michael's shoes.
    If I had, Michael would have wiped it up. Made one of his dry little comments about the incidence of vomiting in Great Britain since WWII... The imagined commentary made James smile. Michael could find a turd in a punchbowl and say something encouraging. It was just how he was.
    "Who's that smile for? Me?" A familiar voice asked.
    "'Course it is," James said, replying from his rent boy script. "Cool your heels and let me look at you."
    That last bit wasn't a pure line. Kevin wasn't conventionally handsome, but James wasn't caught up in the conventional. He loved Kevin's sharp eyes, his firm mouth, his way of strutting about although he topped James by barely an inch. Like his dad before him, Kevin carried him own cue to the tables, playing billiards and pool with his own stick. He was a master at darts and so good at kissing, half the straight girls never guessed he was queer as a hairy-lipped maiden aunt. Through the week Kevin drove a truck and at nights he shared the bed of a physically dominant man, big in more than mere hands' breadth. James respected this need in Kevin, but he couldn't understand it. Kevin's boyfriends always cheated, always lied and seemed chromosomally incapable of tenderness. When Kevin turned on the charm, entire barrooms fell in love with him. He could have his pick. Yet he always picked the man guaranteed never to give two shits.
    "You look a bit banged up." Kevin frowned at James's fading bruises. "Here I've been bragging to everyone about the pretty baby who likes to watch me shoot pool."
    James smiled, keeping his lips tightly together. That was probably true. Kevin loved an audience, especially between boyfriends.
    "Heard you finally moved out of that hellhole. Where you at these days?"
    "Shepherd's Bush," James said with a smile.
    "Christ almighty!" Kevin half-rose to his feet. "What the fuck happened to your mouth?"
    "Got knocked about, didn't I?" James let his gaze drift around the room. A handwritten sign said POOL, he got that clearly, then some other words harder to work out. Probably there would be a tournament later tonight. He looked back at Kevin. Judging by the other man's expression, James would not be permitted to hang off his arm or kiss the tip of his cue for good luck.
    "Oh, don't piss yourself, it's just a few teeth. Getting fixed up in a couple of days. Implants. Be as good as new."
    "Implants?" Kevin smiled, trying to regain a bit of his usual maybe-I-want-you vibe. "Surprised the NHS would spring for that."
    "They aren't. A client is."
    Kevin's eyes narrowed. That was his best weapon, his apparent jealousy whenever James mentioned another man. "And you're living with him in Shepherd's Bush?"
    James nodded.
    "Day in and day out? Keeps you close?" Kevin took a pull off his beer. "Must be sick. Twisted."
    "Very twisted. Makes me sleep in a room smaller than Harry Potter's cupboard under the stairs. Mentioned filleting me." Deliberately, James smiled bigger. Kevin flinched. "So what's the story? Finally want to give it a go now that Silas scarpered? I've told you how I feel."
    "I'm not..." Kevin gave one of his dramatic pauses, as if his inner workings were so complex he could barely express himself. "I'm not quite there. Not about anyone. I want to feel that way, you know I do, but it's complicated."
    James took a sip of his drink.
    "And there's this bloke..."
    James set the drink down.
    "His name is Casey. He's a bit—adventurous," Kevin went on. "Likes to mix it up with guest stars, if you get me. I've only seen him once, and he's