Special Circumstances - 17. Unwanted Attention

My phone’s alarm on Wednesday morning sounded loud in my ears. Tired, I turned it off and made myself sit up. I didn’t get more than four hours of sleep and felt light headed. The thoughts were back immediately. I rested my head in my hands as I let it all play out in my head again.

Yesterday had been nerve wracking. Becoming an unwilling social media celebrity had been unsettling, but at least, national television hadn’t reported on the story which, in the grand scheme of things, had been nothing more than a storm in a teacup. On the internet, however, the discussions continued.

In addition, I’d found out that my innermost being had been violated by an upper-crust career politician with the ability to read minds. Somehow, I’d expected something like this of Morris-Walker. His talent had to be invaluable in his job. Although I was angry, there wasn’t anything I could do at the moment, so for the list of my problems, I could park that one right at the bottom.

Most disturbing had been Mike forcing me to report the next expected ritual murder, putting me in a position where I had to tell about what I knew without revealing myself or Minister Morris-Walker had supernatural abilities. After having spoken to Chief Inspector Mwangi, I’d spent another hour conversing with Mike. In the end, he’d been satisfied, and we’d finished the call both being reasonably happy. I just hoped I hadn’t screwed up big time with this one.

Now, reality was back. I‘d made the mistake of checking my phone. I decided to ignore the world a little while longer and went for a run as well as for a stint in the gym before I took a refreshing shower. Believing I was ready to face the day, I went for breakfast in the canteen. Gravesend training centre was busy during the week with dozens of courses running in parallel. There were easily over hundred officers assembled in the hall.

Maybe it was my imagination, but while I gathered my breakfast items, I felt the serving crew’s gazes linger on me a bit longer than they had previously. When I took my tray and walked between the tables, I was sure people were looking at me to then turn away to whisper or laugh. I was getting paranoid.

I found Glenn and Patrick sitting at a table and joined them. We exchanged the obligatory morning greetings and stuck to our breakfasts in silence.

After a while, Glenn asked me, “How are you doing?”

“Right now, I think everyone is looking at me.”

“No, it isn’t that bad,” Patrick said. “They aren’t looking at you, mate.”

“Feels like it.”

“He’s right,” Glenn added, “Don’t get carried away. How is it going?”

I sighed. “That I’m not Morris-Walker’s lover seems clear by now, and news outlets have dropped the story. On social media, I’m being taken apart. Every post, every picture, and every video I’ve ever posted is analysed by some idiots drawing conclusions without knowing me at all.” I talked myself into a rage. “Apparently, I’m an attention seeking Resident Evil’s Leon Scott Kennedy cosplayer. There’s a whole debate about that. It seems I have fans now.”

Patrick snickered. “Really?”

“What is a cosplayer?” Glenn asked. “Anything kinky?”

I grimaced. He pressed a button there, but he couldn’t know why, so I tried answering without showing my frustration. “It can be. It’s dressing up as a fictional character as featured in a comic, game, or film.”

I pulled up my phone and showed him the pictures Nam had taken where I posed as Leon Kennedy in a montage with the same scene from the game, allowing a direct comparison.

He squinted, and shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat, mate.”

That annoyed me. “No, that doesn’t float my boat. My ex fantasised over me looking like that character. People haven’t got a clue about the pain behind those pics. Or anything else. The general public are so dumb!”

Patrick laughed. “And you notice that now? Where have you been based, mate?”

Dealing with a lot of people, we police faced a lot of idiots and were well aware Common Sense was not as common as name might imply. It was quite rare, actually.

I bowed my head in defeat. “I brought that on myself. Sorry. It’s just that people think they need to leave their nasty comments on my profiles. Why?”

“Haven’t you set them to private?”

“I was advised against that. Could be seen as an admission of needing to hide something. So, I’m spammed with comments from people who have no idea about anything but have a pathological need to utter shit. Others can't accept explanations given and nit-pick on every single detail, especially my career change.”

“Well, that’s quite a thing,” Glenn said. “How did it happen actually?”

I dropped my cutlery and raised my hands defensively. “Please, don’t you start as well. Nothing of this was my idea. I’ve never asked for it. One day, I had a transfer order for training in my hands. I went through three months with twelve hour days of pure hell, passed all exams thrown at me, and and now, I’m here.”

He lifted his hands in a gesture of apology. “Hey, hey. I’m sorry, mate. No personal attack intended. It’s very unusual after all.”

I picked my cutlery up, took some food, and after swallowing it, I said, “I know it is. I’m sorry. I’m a bit on the edge right now.”

“Understandable,” Glenn said calmly.

I again threw down the cutlery and leaned back to gaze at my two colleagues. “It’s just that whatever I do, it’s never good enough. Some people claim these hard exams were rigged on the minister’s orders. I hope at least you see I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, that’s ridiculous,” Glenn said, and Patrick nodded in agreement.

“If that wasn’t enough, I’ve morphed into a fighter for queer rights when Morris-Walker basically admitted his change of stance on LGTBQI+ issues was due to my influence. Some people applaud my efforts, whatever they were, whereas others declare someone like me shouldn’t be seen as representative for the queer community. Now, I’m getting it from all sides.”

“Someone like you?” Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“Queernews ran an editorial on whether a young, attractive, sporty, gay bloke was the right queer ambassador or just a cliché. In the comments section, I was either a hero or a zero. Jealous tossers! Instead of being happy somebody has achieved something, people are just negative.”

He chuckled, got up, and patted me on the shoulder. “Come on, poster boy. Don’t let it get to you. Whenever you deal with the letters, you’re in a minefield. You’re bound to offend someone somehow, whether you want to or not. Best to not get involved.”

“Yes, eat up,” Glenn added, “Nearly time to go.”

I quickly stuffed myself with the rest of my breakfast, put away the tray, and joined my colleagues on the way to the training centre where we were joined by Barry. It was a good feeling to know these men were open and supportive. I still had a police family. At least this week. When I rejoined Boswell’s crew after the retraining that wouldn’t be the case at all.

Despite feeling mental unease, I survived the next two days. Only the exercises and the requirement to focus on the assessments kept me sane. Social media continued being a battlefield but by Friday, the story was superseded by other news. The trolls found some other event to get annoyed about.

By Friday afternoon the retraining was over. I said my good-byes to my fellow trainees who had been so supportive. Specialist Protection was a small world, and we were bound to see each other again. After clearing my barracks room and checking out, I jumped on my motorbike and drove home.

Mike had taken this evening and Saturday off to spend time with me. When I climbed the stairs to the apartment, he awaited me with a table prepared for a dinner for two. However, before eating or doing anything else we embraced.

I cradled Mike’s head on my right shoulder. “I'm sorry for what I put you through.”

Mike caressed my head. “I’m sorry for forcing your hand. I do it, because I love you.”

We held the embrace a while longer before stepping apart. I kissed him and then went to change. I stowed my biker gear and placed my bag in the bedroom.

Mike was dishing out something. “Now, sit and eat.”

I pointed at the take-away containers. “You should’ve told me, and I could’ve cooked, ahem, brought that. I could then claim I contributed to our meals, too.”

He laughed. “I just fancied a curry. Last minute decision. Next time, promise.”

I joined him at the table and dug into my hot and spicy Rogan Josh lamb curry. He knew what I liked.

Just a couple of bites into the meal, my phone rang.

“Boswell,” I said to Mike and picked up the call. “Good evening, sir.”

Without any greeting or introduction, he said, “Listen, Jamie! I have no idea why Morris-Walker is so infatuated with you, but he must value your … qualities.” I was sure he’d wanted to say something else. “But you won’t fuck me over.”

He was seething, I could hear it in his voice. Either the minister’s or Chief Inspector Mwangi’s influence had resulted in Boswell being told to reinstate my protection duty with the minister this weekend. Full moon would be on Monday, the night of the ritual completion when some maniacs would try killing a mentally ill person. We would prevent it, but for that, I had to be allowed to be there.

“I’m sorry this is your impression, sir.”

“That’s exactly what it is. You’re now going to that ever so important duty with your minister and you get that blasted unmarked car. I hope you bring it back in one piece.”

He hung up on me. I was sorry Boswell was angry. I didn’t wish for that to happen.

I put down the phone and continued eating.

“And?” Mike asked.

“He confirmed the duty and the car.” I took a bite of the food.

“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

“No. That man really can’t stand me.”

“He hasn’t been told about the murder?”

I sighed. “No. As I’ve told you, me reporting it doesn’t make it common knowledge. It’ll be a special operation. Need to know basis only.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He seemed downcast.

Mike had been disappointed with the police’s reaction to my report on the potential of a murder. Although I’d asked him often enough over the last two days what he’d expected, he couldn’t let it rest.

“Mike.” I sought his eyes. “It’ll be all right.”

“I hope so.”

I hoped so, too.

Before I could continue eating, my phone rang again.

“You’re becoming a celebrity. Who’s it this time?” Mike asked.

I checked. “Melanie.”

Mike gestured for me to take it while he dug into his food.

Wondering what this might be about, I picked up. “Yes?”

“Jamie! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She was in a very good mood.

“Trying to eat. What can I do for you?” Maybe I’d come across as too passive aggressive.

She seemed unfazed. “Oh, sorry, I won’t keep you for long from your boyfriend’s delights. It’s Friday evening, and it feels wrong going into the weekend without having spoken to you.”

“Oh, that’s very kind.” Indeed, that was nice.

“I haven’t really thanked you for the blind date yet.”

That brought a smile to my lips. “I know you’re meeting again tonight.”

“Yes. He’s cute.”

She should’ve never disclosed that to me! “Can I quote you?” I asked mischievously.

“Absolutely not!”

“Okay, I won’t.” I rolled my eyes. I so would.

“Anyway, Jamie, I know we’ve texted since the article, but I want to tell you I could barely get any work done the last three days. After that story broke, I had to explain to everyone about you. I had so many lunch and chat invites! You’re a star among the Home Office female staff! The gay ones as well, I reckon.”

I laughed.

“I mean it. Next time you walk these illustrious halls, be prepared to be greeted, chatted to or whispered about behind your back.”

It had crossed my mind what the reaction would be the next time I went to the minister’s office. “Oh, fuck.”

She laughed. “Well, I, for my part, am very grateful, Jamie.”

Had I heard right? “How come?”

“I’ve been invited to lunch with the two Home Secretary’s PAs!” She exclaimed.

“Ah, congrats?” Women!

“Thanks to you, I got access to the very top circle!”

“Well, I’m happy to be of use.” At least somebody got something out of my misery.

“Anyway, I leave you to eat now. Greetz to Mike! Have a good weekend. Cheers.”

“Thanks! You, too. Greetings to Nam. Bye.”

I put the phone down.

“Good news?” Mike asked.

I relayed the conversation I’d just had with Melanie, and added, “How bizarre.”

Mike snickered. “Well, the Home Office seems to be an office full of politics. Maybe not the right kind.”

“Definitely not.”

I dug into my food and tried to get Mike to think about other stuff than issues related to me by asking about his last couple of days and two Special duties he’d done. It worked as he was engaged and even laughed. After dinner, I cleared up while Mike set up a film to watch in bed.

Having disposed of the rubbish, I walked over to him. “A film?” I smirked at him, my eyes wide.

“Yeah, what?” Mike was surprised.

“My dear boyfriend. Look right here.” I pointed at myself and let my hand drop to my slowly becoming very obvious erection. “You have your man who has been penned up all by himself for a whole week right here. It’s action time, but not in that box.” I smiled at him.

He grinned broadly. “Well, knowing my man and his insatiable appetite, I’m quite sure he has been taking care of himself while he was alone.”

“Not the last two days, believe me. I need some attention from my boyfriend.”

“What requires my attention then?” He smirked, and his eyes darkened with desire.

“Let me show you what needs your attention.” I removed my clothes slowly and then stood naked in front of him, my member standing up at attention, its tip moist with precum.

“Oh.” Mike licked his lips. “That needs attention.”

He came closer and took my hands into his, leading me to touch him and to take his T-shirt off. After I had removed his trousers and briefs, I took his stiffening penis in my hand and started stroking. Mike shuddered.

“I need this hard.” I leaned to whisper into his ear words which I’d only started to use regularly since I met him. “Fuck me.”

Mike kissed me and led me to our bed. I felt the passion in him and let myself fall onto the bed on my belly. After his preparation of us both, Mike slid on top of me. He caressed my back with fingers and mouth. His hands moved down to my ass, and after a moment, I felt him pushing carefully into me. The short pain was replaced with pleasure as he slowly started to thrust rhythmically. After a while, he lowered himself on top of me.

How much I liked the feeling of his weight. He found my hands, and we intertwined our fingers. Thus conjoined, Mike continued to hit the spot. With each thrust, the pressure, the need for release, built. When I at last reached my peak, I was on fire. Then, I couldn’t hold back. I came hard, grinding myself against the fabric below. What did they say? La petite mort. Though it happened far too early for my liking, coming like that was a moment of bliss and then restart of life.

Mike lasted longer, and his continuing thrusts sent shockwaves through my post-orgasmic body. After his release, he rested in place on top of me. I could feel his heat and warm breath as he panted.

Time to change the bed sheets again. I should’ve taken more care.

After having watched a nice film while cuddling up, falling asleep wasn’t an issue.

The next morning, I was up early. Without waking up Mike, I changed into running gear and headed out. I’d been too much in my thoughts, and I forgot about the time. Only by using my abilities, was I able to be back home in time for breakfast. Of course, I was hungry.

“You’re very quiet,” Mike said over breakfast.

I had munched through cereal and half a bread’s worth of sandwiches. “I’m eating.”

Mike took it as a stress reaction. “It’ll be all right, Jamie.”

I didn’t know what to reply with other than platitudes, therefore I said nothing and nodded.

Mike sighed. “You wanna hit something?”

“How come you always know what I'm thinking?”

He smirked. “You’re easy to figure out and even easier to please.”

I smiled in surprise. “Oh, am I now?”

“Yes, you are.” Mike grinned, looking very pleased with himself.

We finished breakfast, cleared up, and headed out to attend Mike’s sports hall. As it was a Saturday, it was busy. In addition to the normal weekend crowd, the Kendo group were preparing for a tournament.

Mike was drawn into test bouts. They’d all fought each other for weeks now and needed to experience facing an unknown opponent. The trainer knew I was a capable fighter, so he asked me to oppose a couple of their first-time tournament attendees. I was happy to oblige and enjoyed the formality surrounding the ten-minute fights.

For the last pairing, the trainer assigned me an opponent who was about a head taller, technically quite good, but he didn’t show much ki or fighting spirit. While he’d hit me correctly, he hadn’t scored any ippons or points. At the end of the match, we bowed formally. Because it was the last fight, I took off my Men helmet.

My last opponent took off his Men, too. He was a handsome lad not older than twenty, and he stared at me. Was he annoyed at having lost?

“You understand the mechanics of Kendo well, but you don’t show spirit,” I said and made a fist. “You must be more assertive. Seize the opportunity!”

He nodded quickly, bowed, and turned to leave. Then he hesitated and approached me.

“Aren’t you the gay bodyguard?”

I nodded. So far, I’d been spared any celebrity experiences. That was probably because I’d been in the barracks or at home. I grasped with a bit of terror this was the first time I’d gone into a public space since the news story.

“You told me to be more assertive.” He blushed. “Fancy joining me for a beer?”

Wow! I’d predicted a lot, but not that.

I smiled at him. “If I didn’t have a boyfriend, I definitely would.”

“Sorry,” he stammered.

“No worries! That’s the spirit. Seize the opportunity!” Although he was a head taller than me, I clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry, I can’t oblige.”

The trainer called me over. I nodded the young man good-bye and walked over to the master who asked me whether I was up for another round of training fights. Of course, I was.

I was getting positively exhausted. After the kendo training, Mike and I took a break and got something to eat from the sports hall’s cafeteria. We finished the day at the hall with a gym session. I had to persuade Mike. While he was into Kendo, he didn’t like the gym very much. Nevertheless, he went with me through a full round of exercises, although he didn’t do my number of repetitions or count of sets.

“You don’t know how much I love you that I’m doing this.” He was breathing heavily.

“I’ll make it up to you later.” I smirked.

“Oh, you will. Be sure of that.”

Well, I did make it up to him later that day. Of course, Mike called me insatiable as usual, but he enjoyed my ministrations nonetheless.

On Sunday morning, it was time to face Morris-Walker. The drive on relatively empty roads to my duty station was the quickest run I’d ever been able to do. I followed the usual routine, got my gear and weapons, and checked out the car. In contrast to the regular meeting place at the minister’s office in the Home Office building, I was due to pick him up from his private residence in London.

The fancy apartment building had a lobby and a front drive similar to a hotel. I brazenly parked the unmarked black BMW in the front of the main entrance. I got out of the car, but left the machine pistol in the safe and entered the building.

In the foyer worked a well groomed middle-aged concierge. He raised his head as I entered.

I nodded in greeting. “I’m here for Mr Morris-Walker.”

He raised an eyebrow and scrutinised me. “And who shall I announce?”

Arrogant fuck. I was in uniform. “I’m his taxi driver.”

He looked at me with disdain and then lifted up a receiver and pressed a button on the dial pad.

“Minister? Good morning, sir. Your … taxi driver is here.”

He put the phone down and glanced at me haughtily. “The minister will be here in due time.”

I didn’t bother with a response. I walked over to the settee for waiting guests and made myself comfortable. Good that I did, because the minister took his time. About twenty minutes later, he arrived in the foyer, exiting an elevator. He carried two bags. I got up.

He came towards me, beaming and stretching out his hand. “Good morning, Jamie. Good to see you after all this trouble.”

I ignored his outstretched hand and glared at him. “A word, Minister!”

“Certainly, Jamie.” If he was surprised at my attitude, he didn’t show it.

I walked out of the foyer with determination. Morris-Walker followed behind.

At the car, I turned around to face him. “You’ve violated me!”

He was visibly taken aback.

I pointed at him with the car key. “You’ve read my mind!”

“Jamie, I …”

I was truly outraged. “My feelings, my thoughts, my hopes, my secrets! How much?”

“What?” He was perplexed.

“How much do you know about me?” I had to be careful not to actually shout at him.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he said defensively.

“Then how the fuck does it work?” I glowered at him. “How much?”

He sighed. “Please, Jamie. Sometimes, I get moods, other times surface thoughts. Only with prolonged contact and me really concentrating on it can I read detailed thoughts.”

“Did you read me when we embraced?” I asked calmly.

He searched my eyes and shook his head.

I couldn’t detect any falsehood, but I was furious nonetheless. “How much?”

He looked at me. “Not as much as you might fear. As I said, the most prominent thoughts at the point I read.”

I exhaled loudly and turned away from him.

Before I opened the door, I faced him again and said calmly but with menace, “You do that again, and I’ll make you eat your teeth.”

Morris-Walker glanced at me. He nodded shortly and climbed into the car. I closed the car door behind him.

To calm down, I took my time getting into the driver’s seat.

“We won’t have much traffic, Minister. The satnav puts the journey at about six and a half hours.” I glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Would you like to have some music, sir?”

He avoided my gaze. “That would be nice, Jamie. Thank you.”

I tuned into the BBC 3 radio channel playing classical music. Joining the traffic, I headed out of London towards Leeds. Determination replaced my anger. There was a job to do, and somebody’s life was at stake. It was time to check whether Morris-Walker had done his homework.

“Did you bring what I asked for, Minister?”

He patted one of the bags. “Indeed, Jamie, I did. Red Dot Sights and LED Weapon Lights for MP5 and Glock 17M respectively, as well as three full thirty round magazines for the HK as requested. The armour elements are there as well.”

That was impressive and highly illegal, because these items weren’t on my authorised equipment list. “Thank you, Minister. That’ll come in handy. Good, that we won’t be stopped and searched.”

He didn’t take to my attempt at humour and stayed quiet.

I drove to the hotel in Leeds, where we had rooms booked. It featured an underground garage. Our arrival and unloading of the car was therefore undisturbed. The duty manager personally checked in the minister while a clerk dealt with me. The keys with the room numbers indicated the rooms were next to each other.

We first checked the minister’s room. He inspected the bathroom while I looked at the rest of the room.

“I don’t know whether they want to curry favour or whether they want to be insulting,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Morris-Walker turned to me.

I held open the door which led to my room and grimaced. Usually, unless requested, such connecting doors were locked.

He smiled the first genuine smile today. “Well, Jamie. Welcome to the world of politics.”

“Yes, Minister.” I stepped through the connecting door. “No need to go through the hallway then. See you later, sir.”

“Your gifts, Jamie.” He gave me one of the bags he carried.

I nodded my thanks and closed the door. Alone in my room, I extracted the firearms’ attachments and placed them into the room’s safe. Equipping them would be tomorrow’s task. Now, I had to get my own bag from the car.

When it was time, I knocked at the minister’s door. He opened quickly.

“Jamie,” he said as if surprised to see me.

“Sir, it’s time.”

“Indeed, it is.” He put on a jacket. “Ready to face the public?”

I sighed. “As much as I can be.”

“Don’t worry, Jamie. After what you have faced so far, a couple of local politicians and reporters will be easy.”

I nodded in acknowledgement, and we left the room for the car.

The drive to the location of tonight’s event was uneventful. I parked the car in the spot which had been instructed in the intelligence package. We were expected by local Conservative Party representatives who escorted us to the hall. The location in which tonight’s event was held had its own security. Therefore, there was no need to check the surroundings. I followed the minister like a well-trained dog.

I stayed close to him during the introductions. He shook so many hands. I wondered whether he read all of them or concentrated only on the necessary people. But how could he know whether anybody would be significant if he didn’t read them? I was happy I didn’t have that issue; I stayed in the background. When the hostess seated the minister, I chose a spot on the wall behind him to lean against.

Of course, I couldn’t be sure, and my colleagues had dismissed it before, but I felt the gazes of dozens of people on me. I scanned the crowd, but I couldn’t find anybody directly staring at me. Maybe Patrick and Glenn were right, and I imagined these things. I exhaled quietly and awaited the minister’s speech.

First spoke the local Conservative Party leader who introduced Morris-Walker, who climbed the podium to take the speaker’s stand under the applause of the about hundred people present.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the minister began, “Please be aware you might come under scrutiny, but if anybody would like to give me a hug after my speech, we can arrange for that.”

There were chuckles in the audience.

“Ladies preferred.”

Now, he got some laughter.

He turned serious. “Ladies and gentlemen, the police are brave women and men who risk their well-being on a daily basis so people like you and me can be safe. Sometimes, bravery is not manifested in a physical act, but in a mental act. While I, as a politician, have chosen to be in the limelight, seeking it even as evidenced by me standing up here in front of you, the same cannot be said for my Protection Officer, Jamie, over there.”

Had the minister lost his mind? He pointed at me. This time, there could be no doubt that all eyes in the room focused on me. I glared at him from under my bangs.

“He had the opportunity to ask for a different duty. However, he chose to stick by my side and to face a form of public scrutiny which extends well into his private life. One would not be wrong describing what he had to go through as a form of mobbing.” He made a short pause for dramatic effect before he called attention back to himself. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in a round of applause for the police, please.”

He started clapping, and the audience fell in. I bowed my head at him. I didn’t know what to feel right now. Like so often, police procedures helped me here. I concentrated on protection protocols about scanning one’s surroundings and avoided thinking about what just happened. In any case, Morris-Walker had addressed the elephant in the room, and the audience was his now.

The rest of his speech was the usual conservative bullshit, so I found it despicable. Looking at that crowd, I guessed at least half would be worse off if these policies were enacted. It was like turkeys voting for Christmas. How could people not realise that?

The informal talks after the speech lasted until midnight. Morris-Walker’s intervention had worked because most people ignored me again, and I was grateful for that.

We were both quiet on the drive to the hotel. I didn’t want to say anything, and looking at Morris-Walker, I doubted he wanted to listen to me. Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day.