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Chapter Twenty Seven

Frank

“I spoke to Mr Durrence, he might know someone who can look after Ralph's car," Frank said as he made his way through the front door. “Are you glad Ralph is messaging you again?"

“I am, he's sent me three today" Marcus replied from the kitchen. “Although, I can tell he's happy being with Gunnar," the fox added with a wistful sigh.

“Well, the fact he texted you about coming back to store his car here while he shoots the movie is something, right?" Frank said as he walking into the kitchen.

“Yeah, that's the only thing he's asked about," the fox sighed.

Marcus was still in his speedo and sitting at the kitchen table looking at his phone with his hind-paws neatly crossed. Frank couldn't help but think the fox looked cute in his skimpy swimsuit and the way he was sitting.

No, don't let your mind go there!

“Are you talking to Ralph now?" he asked casually.

“Oh no, I was sending an email to someone from the rental company asking if I could keep the car for a little while longer," Marcus explained. “He's another fox called James and he looks really hot in his email profile picture, I was wondering if I should ask for his number?"

Frank raised an eye-brow.

And that's precisely stopped my mind going there.

“What?" Marcus replied. “He's cute, I'm free for the time being, no one can tell me what to do."

“You are too ridiculous for words sometimes, if that's your attitude Ralph will return only to run away at a hundred miles an hour," Frank sighed. “I wonder if I should leave."

“I'm sorry," Marcus replied, tucking his tail behind his hind-paws. “That was a silly thing to suggest. In all seriousness I won't. I was making a bad joke."

“It's okay," Frank said, rolling his eyes but softening his tone. “My advice would be put your priorities in order and don't turn into the sort of guy you don't want to be."

“You're right," Marcus nodded before his phone buzzed in his paws. “Ooh, it's Ralph. He says hey Marcus, Gunnar is okay to fly back. He's coming with me, damn!"

“It's okay, keep reading," Frank encouraged.

“Okay, gonna spend the night in London before I drive down tomorrow. Hope there's somewhere to store the car and you're okay?"

“It seems he's forgiven you for the fur in the bed," Frank reasoned.

“I know, but he's coming back with Gunnar," Marcus sighed.

Frank wasn't sure what to say. Instead, he walked over and gently patted Marcus' shoulder before wondering if the gesture was patronizing.

Marcus didn't seem to mind and fixed Frank a faint smile.

Frank's phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to see a text.

Hi Frank, can come over now to start putting the undercoat outside Honeysuckle Lodge if that's good with the homeowner? Should take an hour to do. Kevin

“So, the painter is asking if you're good with him doing some work on the house now," Frank explained. “It depends if you want to be in while he's here. I'm not sure sunbathing around him would feel quite as fun as it was when you used it to tease me or when you Ralph with you."

“Hmm, yeah that's fair," Marcus said.

“How about I take you for a late lunch or early dinner at the pub?" Frank suggested.

“That could work," Marcus nodded. “Will the house be safe from huskies?"

“If the painter is here I don't think Gareth will be gutsy enough to try breaking and entering," Frank reasoned.

In his mind, he decided it was best not to mention that Gareth had been sitting at Mrs Durrence's house right next door.

“I don't see why we can't just call the police," Marcus grumbled. “If we're pretty sure it's him."

“The husky might have something useful I want to know about Anthony's scheme," Frank replied. “I want to catch him and find out."

“Hmm," Marcus huffed, not sounding convinced. “You know after everything I've done I'm surprised you want to take me out for a meal," he added with an apprehensive smile.

“I don't bear grudges, or I try not to, I don't always succeed," Frank shrugged. “And honestly, I do feel sorry for you over Ralph too, even though I've made my feelings on why he left clear."

“Thank you, and I know," Marcus replied. “Shall we?"

“I'd put some clothes on first, as cute as you look in those little swimwear," Frank said, before wanting to clasp a paw over his muzzle. “But anyway, Don isn't too formal but wearing more clothes might be ideal."

“You think I'm cute like this?" Marcus asked, his tone was bashful and not sassy.

“Um, yeah, anyway, shall we go?"

“Yes, I'll be right back," Marcus said.

Frank was about to put his phone away but he gave a start as Marcus gently wrapped his arms around him for a quick hug before letting go.

“Okay," Frank replied, feeling his ears inadvertently splay and his tail wag shyly.

Snap yourself out of this.

Marcus ran upstairs and Frank felt his phone buzz again. He looked down, expecting to see another message from the painter. Instead, it was from Mr Durrence.

Hi Frank, Charles Parkfield isn't in business anymore, but his nephew (not son!) Rupert can take it. His number is 07834555

Frank texted back Thank you.

“I'm ready and coming!" Marcus called from upstairs.

“Okay," Frank replied, frantically glancing around until he saw a sheet of notepaper and a very stubby looking pencil on the kitchen counter.

He quickly scribbled down the number as Marcus walked into the kitchen. The fox was dressed in another pair of his small denim shorts (black this time) and a green and white striped tank top. He was also carrying a blue hoodie under his arm.

“I figured it would get cold as the evening draws in," the fox explained.

“Good idea," Frank replied as he put the pencil down. “Shall we wait for the painter to arrive so we know the house is being looked after?"

“It sounds like he's here already," Marcus grinned as he cocked an ear.

Frank heard the sound of a van pulling up outside.

“You're right," Frank said, gesturing for Marcus to follow.

He made his way out of the front door with Marcus in tow. A white van with Kevin Crossely – Painter & Decorator written on the side was parked in front of the garden gate.

A Labrador was sat in the van.

Frank raised a paw as they walked by and the Labrador waved back.

“I figured we'd walk," Frank said.

“Yeah, so we can both have wine," Marcus grinned as he wagged his tail.

“Heh, that's very forward."

“Hey, you can't go to the pub and not have wine!"

“I might want a beer," Frank shrugged.

“This reminds me of our first trip to the pub, remember when we turned eighteen and got our ID's for the first time," Marcus laughed.

“Yeah, yeah it does," Frank smiled wistfully as his mind was transported back to ten years ago.

“Frank! I got my provisional licence!"

Frank was sitting on a bench near the village green as the fox came running up to him with his tail wagging.

“That's excellent, now you can learn to drive soon."

“No! It means we can both go to the pub, on a date!" Marcus replied, taking Frank's arm to try and tug him off the bench.

“Heh, priorities!"

“Come on, I want to get a class of wine."

“I haven't got any money," Frank sighed, patting the pockets of his jeans.

“Don't be silly, I'll pay for it. It'll be our first date with booze!" Marcus replied, trying to pull Frank off the bench again.

“Didn't we sneak some wine are your parents' last week?"

“I know, but this will be our first real date out, there's never anywhere to go out here."

Frank chuckled to himself as they walked towards the centre of the village.

“Were you thinking of what I was thinking?" Marcus asked.

“Our first date to the pub? I was," Frank replied. “Although the wine selection back then was pretty poor, but you were so happy to go out there that day."

“I was," Marcus grinned. “How things have changed now."

“What, you're no longer excited to go there?"

“I am, we actually have money to spend," Marcus replied.

“After you made me buy the wine on the date, even though I was penniless and you said you'd get it," Frank chuckled.

“I did," Marcus said, splaying his ears. “Although it's funny how we thought the pub was the height of excitement back then in this dreary place."

Frank glanced at the pretty cottages with the afternoon sun shining on their yellow stonework. The church spire stood against the blue sky and birds were chirping happily in the trees.

“I don't know, this place isn't so bad after all," Frank replied. “I've come to appreciate it."

“So you've said," Marcus nodded. “I guess you're right, there is a charm to it in a way, and the air smells much cleaner."

They reached the pub and Frank held the door open for Marcus.

Don was standing behind the bar and waved to Frank as they walked in.

“Here okay?" Frank said, gesturing to a table next to the window. Marcus nodded and they sat down. Frank noticed the fox was gazing wistfully out of the window. “You don't like this table?"

“I was just thinking for a small pub in a village, this is pretty much where my dating history has been, you several times, Ralph and now dinner with you again," Marcus sighed.

“I guess you can't escape," Frank chuckled.

“It seems not," Marcus shrugged. “But there are worse places I could be."

“Oh?"

“Conor's apartment," Marcus said, pulling a face.

“Don't think about him," Frank encouraged. “Focus on the present and what you want to do next."

“I have to write that article," Marcus sighed. “It's about coming out, being gay here and generally contains a lot of moping. I refer to you in it actually."

“Am I the moping part?"

“No, although I need to name you."

“As in I don't have a name in the article?" Frank asked.

“I call you my first boyfriend," Marcus replied.

“Oh lovely," Frank laughed.

“Hello gentlemen, can I get you anything to eat or drink?" Don asked as he walked over.

“I'll have fish and chips, with a glass of Pinot Grigio," Marcus replied.

“You know, I'll have the same," Frank added.

“That makes it easy," Don laughed. “Thank you gents."

“Anyway, I want to name you in it now, Frank or Francis?" Marcus continued once Don had left. “But I wanted your permission."

“It's your article," Frank said with a guffaw (which came out louder than intended). “You could call me Susan if it makes you happier?"

“Susan?"

“Just a bad joke, don't do that on second thoughts," Frank replied, suddenly feeling worried that Marcus might take him literally.

“You think I'd do that?" Marcus asked with a sly grin.

“With you I have no idea," Frank sighed.

“Aww, don't you trust me?" Marcus said, putting on a sad face. “You shouldn't have given me the idea in the first place."

“Yup, fair point," Frank replied, knowing he had dug himself into a hole.

“You know, I miss these conversations," Marcus continued.

“What? You miss needling me," Frank said with an eye-roll.

“No, just being able to be myself around you," Marcus replied in what seemed like a sincere tone.

Frank was taken aback at Marcus' comment.

“You couldn't around other guys?" he asked.

“Well, I always had to be cocky or assertive to get guys I liked," the fox explained.

“You've always been cocky and assertive, no offense," Frank laughed.

“I know, but working a charming grin, in the hope it'll get me cock," Marcus said, leaning in to whisper the last part.

“Again, no difference."

“Okay, let's just say I play up the charm and assertiveness," Marcus sighed. “And it consumes me to a point where, well, it's not really me anymore, and that's how I ended up with people like Conor, and scaring Ralph away."

“That's fair," Frank reasoned. “I remember you as a kit; shy, kind, if a little silly at times, and sensitive. I think that person must still be in there somewhere."

“Perhaps he is," Marcus sighed. “I want to bring him back out."

“What's stopping you?"

“Internalising too much shit," Marcus shrugged.

“Well, maybe stop thinking about that and focus on yourself like I say."

Don returned with their food and drinks.

Frank began eating in silence.

“So, when did you move into that cute little cottage of yours?" Marcus asked.

“A year ago," Frank replied. “I still need to fill it up with more furniture though, a proper spare bed for one, and I'm glad you find it cute."

“It is, it's rather quaint, just like furniture you have," Marcus said.

“I'm glad you call it quaint, before you'd have called it old people."

“It is a bit old people, but in a nice way," Marcus grinned wryly.

“Um, thanks, I got most of the stuff from an antique store, and some were family heirlooms."

“Heh, giving things a new lease of life."

“Yeah," Frank nodded. “I mean, one of the chairs I got from the living room is over a hundred years old, and I also got a nice china cup in the kitchen. Imagine, some nice old lady passed it onto her grandkids thinking they'd love it, and they sold it and bought a flat screen."

“A tea cup for a flat screen? Must have been an expensive cup!" Marcus laughed. Frank had a mouthful of fish in his muzzle so he simply nodded before glancing out of the window. The HD-C van he had seen the other day was pulling up outside the pub. Frank almost choked on his food. “That's rude," Marcus grinned. “Eating with your mouth open."

“I'll be right back," Frank said, putting his knife and fork down.

Marcus opened his mouth to reply, but Frank was already out of the door.

A serval was sitting behind the wheel of the van and as Frank watched he climbed out and lit a cigarette.

Frank approached cautiously and the serval glanced up.

“Hi," Frank said, putting on his friendly villager causally walking by who doesn't see too many strangers around these parts act. “Lovely afternoon, isn't it?"

“Yup," the serval said with a nod.

“Too nice to be spending at work."

“Yeah."

“What brings you down here?" Frank asked casually.

“Looking at a new project site," the serval shrugged. “Excuse me," he added as his phone started ringing.

Frank turned and felt a shiver down his spine as he noticed Anthony's Bentley cruising down the main road. Frank was not usually one to run and hide, but he hurried across the road and back into the pub.

“What is it?" Marcus asked as Frank sat back down.

Frank didn't answer. He continued watching out of the window as the Bentley pulled up beside the van.

Anthony climbed out and Frank watched as the puma seemed to gesticulate briefly but frantically to the driver. The expression on his face seemed irritated. He then turned to face the pub as if he could sense Frank watching.

Frank had read about describing an expression as staring daggers in plenty of books before, and never thought it was possible to actually experience such a look from someone, but Anthony's stare somehow managed it. He glanced down and hoped Anthony couldn't see him.

The serval tossed his cigarette to one side and both felines climbed back into their vehicles before driving away.

“Interesting," Frank murmured.

“So, what was all that about?" Marcus asked. “That was mister cider outside, wasn't it?"

“Mister cider," Frank chuckled. “That's a good one."

“Eh, I called him that as a kit after he was rude," Marcus shrugged. “But you didn't tell me what was going on?"

“I still have no real clue, but I'm going to find out," Frank replied. “But given the way Anthony was staring at me I think I might sleep at yours again."