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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Ralph: Breaking free - 22. Gordon, my Gordon?

To finalise things, Russ Kahn had insisted that they all come to his office. Ralph had expected that Nolan and Verne would just sign paperwork and that was that, but not a bit, Russ Kahn insisted on meeting them again and having a drink to celebrate their new partnership.

So, Wednesday evening, Ralph, Nolan and Verne foregathered in the ritzy foyer of RK Enterprises’ headquarters building. Well, ritzy by comparison to what they could afford, and it was impressively kitted out with some serious art. The meeting had taken some organising, Verne had moaned loudly to Nolan (so loud that despite her being on the other end of a telephone, Ralph had been able to hear her) about missing a class and private appointments, but she and Nolan had both brought in deps and here they were.

The receptionist asked them to sit, so Ralph and Nolan sat on the brown leather sofa whilst Verne restlessly mooched about. She started reading the information about the pictures, the artist was Drew Wilkinson, a local man who lived in an old mill near Stevenham. There was more, but Ralph zoned out. The name rang a bell, surely a coincidence; he had to stop thinking that everything he did came back to Gordon.

Finally, they were asked to go up to the top floor, Mr Kahn would meet them in the penthouse. He was there as the lift doors opened, neat and bandbox tidy as if he hadn’t done a full day’s work, but Ralph was pretty sure the man had. Ralph needed constant running repairs if he was to be presentable during the day, he had never had the gift of keeping looking cool, relaxed and poised.

The penthouse was impressive, more of a suite than a business room, all very designer-y, but with some smaller pictures that looked to be by the same hand as the artist downstairs. Ralph wanted to ask, but it would have to wait.

There was the view to be admired, the steam railway to be pointed out and other salient landmarks. A glass of bubbly to be drunk, and congratulations to be had. Both Nolan and Verne were full of ideas for the new premises, and Russ Kahn seemed delighted to talk. Finally, Nolan and Verne went looking at the view again and Russ Kahn came over to Ralph.

“These paintings, they’re by the same artist as the big pictures in the foyer.”

Russ Kahn beamed, “Well spotted. A local bloke. I hated the art suggested by the interior designer and asked my PA to find me someone local. The result was Drew Wilkinson, he was local, had an excellent website handled by his wife, Evie, who is a notable potter as well, and I loved the work. Bought a whole batch of big pictures for the offices, those in the foyer and some others in the board room and that, but I bought some of Drew’s smaller pictures for myself.”

“They are very striking. I used to know a painter of that name when I was a teenager.”

“Locally?”

“No, that was down in Bedston.”

“How funny. That’s where Drew and Evie used to live. What’s even funnier is that, when I went over to his studio to collect the paintings I’d bought, who should be there but my friends Gordon and Brian. You know, the guys from Ares.”

“Having the naked photos?” Ralph managed to keep his brain working. Just.

Russ Kahn grinned, “That’s them. Anyway, turns out Gordon is Drew and Evie’s son, though you’d never expect a pair of ex-hippie artists to have a son go into the Army, would you?”

Russ Kahn stared at Ralph, who had seized up completely. Luckily the man was politeness itself and simply kept filling in. Finally, Ralph found his tongue, “I had a friend at school in Bedston called Gordon. He was the year below me; his Dad was a painter called Drew Wilkinson.”

“Bloody hell, more coincidences. Well, that’s easily solved, I’ve got a photo of them.” Russ Kahn fiddled with his phone, “Here we are. One on the left is Gordon, and the kid is his partner Brian’s son Toby. Real livewire.”

Ralph stared and stared. There was Gordon staring back at him. He’d thickened up and Ralph suspected that he was starting to go thin on top. But there, smiling at him, was Gordon. “Yes, that’s him. That’s my friend.”

“What a coincidence. They live here in Parborough, so I can easily put you in contact if you want. But I know not everybody wants to hook up with old school mates”, Russ Kahn shook his head, “too much water passed under the bridge.”

Thankfully, at that moment Verne asked a question about whether RK Enterprises occupied the whole building and Russ Kahn started explaining how they had the ground floor and the top two floors, then he’d grinned, “The best bits, really.”

And suddenly, the man had looked human.

---

Ralph and Nolan had agreed that they needed nights off. Both liked their own time to themselves and keeping separate for a few nights each week meant that it felt less as if they were living together, which was altogether too soon. Added to which, Nolan had work he wanted to do. There were business plans to update, schedules to organise, and he disappeared into the twins’ room.

Ralph sat on the sofa and stared. Gordon, his Gordon, was alive and well and living in Parborough. Who’d have dreamed it? Living with another bloke and seemingly happily ensconced with the other guy’s son. Russ Kahn had said that the photograph had been taken at some event for the boy’s birthday recently.

So much water under the bridge, they’d both lived lives.

Was there any point in making contact with Gordon? More to the point, what would he say? Sorry, I acted like a complete shit and dropped you when I pretended our relationship hadn’t mattered? Would he want them to be friends? Hardly. As Russ Kahn had so perspicaciously pointed out, we don’t always want to be friendly with ex-school mates, so much has happened, we are such different people.

But still, but still, but still…

It was surely no good talking to Nolan about it, yet. The bloke had plenty on his mind already, and Ralph needed to work out his own head. He’d have to tell Nolan, and soon. But Ralph wanted to talk things through a bit. With whom? Morrie? Hardly. Morrie was a bit too close to Russ Kahn and besides, Morrie was a client. He was turning into something like a friend, but he was still a client.

Therese? He just couldn’t see how he could have a heart to heart with his ex-wife about the boy he’d fallen for before her, could he? Ralph could imagine Therese’s tart comments, or worse. Perhaps Beth, except was it too much to impose on a staff member, no matter how friendly?

And, in his heart of hearts, he knew what he needed to do. For his own sanity, if nothing else. Lay the ghost. And having decided that, it seemed only fair to tell Nolan.

Nolan had stripped off and was in t-shirt and cotton trousers, curled up on Jane’s bed, working on his laptop. When Ralph stuck his head round the door, Nolan looked up and smiled, then he saw the expression on Ralph’s face and patted the bed beside him.

“What is it, what’s up?”

“The painter chap.”

“At Russ Kahn’s office, the guy who did those big orange pictures?”

“Drew Wilkinson”, Ralph paused, “his son, Gordon is someone Russ knows.”

“Ye-es…”

“I’m pretty sure he’s the Gordon I knew.”

“The affair when you were 16?”

“17. Yeah. His Dad was called Drew Wilkinson, he was a painter. There can’t be two, can there?”

“Fuck”, Nolan said it quietly, under his breath.

“I mentioned it to Russ Kahn, oh, only that I’d known a Gordon Wilkinson at school and Kahn confirmed that Drew Wilkinson had previously lived in Bedston and he showed me a photo of Gordon.”

“And?”

“99% sure it’s my Gordon.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I thought of asking Therese or Beth for advice, but I knew what they’d both say.”

Nolan smiled, “See him and get it over with.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“You’re hardly going to pick up where you left off are you?” Nolan gave a wonky smile.

Ralph rolled his eyes, “Hardly. But all that unfinished business…”

“Best get that dealt with, then.”

“Yeah. You think?”

Nolan patted Ralph’s hand, “See him, apologise or whatever, then that’s it. Done and dusted.”

“Thought so too.” But Ralph didn’t sound all that sure.

“Unfinished business. Preying on you. Those dreams…””

“It’s just…” Ralph sighed, then slumped a bit, “What to say? That I’ve been having fantasies about him?”

Nolan, surprisingly, grinned, “Not him, you wally. The dreams were about the teenage Gordon.”

Ralph nodded, “He’s a lot different now.”

“You reckon. I bet you are too. Look, just tell him the truth. You wish you’d had more courage but didn’t and you’re sorry. Can’t change things.”

“No. You’re right.”

Nolan fiddled with his phone, “Look, I’ve got Russ Kahn’s personal number somewhere.”

“Indeed”, Ralph’s head snapped round, sharpish.

Nolan, however, simply smiled, “Not like that. In case we wanted to discuss business. Nice of him really. And in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s not interested, and neither am I.”

Nolan leaned over and kissed Ralph. It developed into something more.

Copyright © 2024 Robert Hugill; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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