Sottopassaggio by Nick Alexander Page B

getting into my role. “Really?” I say. “I don’t see …”
    â€œOh, I get it, he must have BT Call-minder. Oh Mark! Didn’t you even know?”
    â€œCall-winder?” I say. I bite my lip wondering if I’m overacting.
    â€œYeah, huh! I suppose you have been in France. Yes, English phones have a built in answer-phone,” Jenny explains. “You have to dial 1571 to access it.”
    I smile at the conceit of “English phones.” My French phone has had voicemail for fifteen years.
    Jenny calms down and explains the intricacies of BT Call-minder to me; how to tell if there are messages, how to consult them, delete them. I’m such a good actor I actually write the instructions down on a piece of paper. I’m feeling so pleased with myself that I forget why I didn’t want to answer the phone, and so, am taken by surprise when she asks me what I have planned for the weekend.
    â€œNothing,” I say.
    I mouth another, “
fuck
.”
    â€œGood,” Jenny exclaims. “Well, get your party shoes on ‘cos Jenny’s coming to town.”
    â€œOh good!” I say.
    Critical Mass
    As we take our seats I glance nervously at Tom and Jenny’s faces. I’m having trouble imagining that theevening is going to be a party at all; Jenny looks glassy and hermetic, Tom has a pale flushed air about him, and anticipation of the two together makes me feel stressed and twitchy myself.
    â€œSo where’s Antonio?” Jenny asks.
    Tom shrugs and starts to remove his leather jacket. “He’s changed his mind. Tired or something,” he says.
    Jenny wrinkles her nose. “Or something,” she says. “Sounds ominous, did you two …”
    Tom gives her an icicle glare, freezing her mid sentence.
    She glances towards the bar. “I’ll get some drinks then shall I?” she asks, forcing a smile.
    â€œAntonio’s not that comfortable around my gay friends,” Tom says with a shrug.
    â€œReally?” I say with a grimace. “It’s a shame, I wanted to talk about Hugo, to fill in some of the gaps so to speak.”
    Tom nods. “That’s probably half the problem actually. He hasn’t wanted to discuss that business at all. Not once.”
    I nod. “I was pretty angry at first. But then it just started to strike me as funny.”
    Tom smiles weakly. “Yeah?” he says.
    â€œI suppose that sounds weird,” I say.
    Tom shrugs. “Hugo sounds weird,” he says.
    I laugh. “That’s the funniest thing. He wasn’t weird at all. He seemed perfectly normal, quite lovable really.”
    Tom nods. “I think it dented Antonio’s ego a bit. I think he liked being the only guy ever to have netted him.”
    Jenny arrives with my pint and returns to the bar for the others.
    I nod. “I guess you could feel that way. If you were into the whole hetero thing.”
    Tom blinks slowly and works his mouth. “I’m jealous actually,” he says.
    I shrug. “Well don’t be. You’re worth ten Hugos.”
    He blushes slightly. “Yeah, but it’s like, he was so important because he was
straight
.”
    â€œ
Supposedly
,” I point out.
    â€œYeah,
supposedly
, and Antonio was so flattered because this straight guy chose him. I guess my being with him means nothing really, me just being a big poof and all.”
    I nod my head sideways to suggest uneasy agreement. “I think you’re overstating it, but I know what you mean. It
is
a bit homophobic.”
    â€œYou said there’s a lot of it in Italy?” Tom asks.
    I nod. “I don’t know whether it’s because they’re Catholic, or because the language barrier has cut them off from the whole gay lib movement, but so many French and Italian men have issues with their sexuality.”
    Tom frowns. “That surprises me,” he says.
    I shrug. “You deal with it,