The Circus

Sunday, their usual slob day went as it often did, except Bertie and Tom had to find some excuse to completely uncharacteristically leave the house in order to buy Tiffany a birthday present before the real day the following Tuesday. Their poorly planned act basically contained Bertie whining that Snowy had no food left and Tom loudly offering to take him shopping to buy more, Tiffany didn't even look up as she waved them goodbye. They set out into the cool autumnal day, it was already early evening with their lengthy sleep in a usual. They linked arms, trudging through the crowds of people in search of some kind of shop selling something Tiff might want, two gay men with zero shopping ability. They had made it all the way to Soho, when Tom saw him. Bo and a man Tom had never seen we're being handed their takeaway coffees, the man said something, they both laughed before Bo pulled he man in for a side hug, kissing the top of his head. Tom's blood ran cold, he froze, stopping only a few metres away from the happy couple, Bertie was tense beside him. It was seconds before they were face to face, Bo finally seeming to register Tom was there, shock clear on his features. The man beside him turned out to be a cute little redheaded twink with a rather plain face. Wow he moves fast. "Tommy?" that silky rich voice found Tom's ears but he couldn't reply, couldn't speak, his mouth twitching with unsaid words. The redhead looked concerned, not wearing the usual sassy look of a man who'd bagged a hottie like Bo.

It was Bertie who moved first, his face etched with childish anger, directed solely towards Bo, "Let's go home Tom," he pouted, reaching up and giving Tom a huge smooch in the middle of the street. Frozen in shock, Tom watched Bertie fire Bo a glare that would've been scathing were it not for the hurt on his face and the tears welling in his eyes. He's actually protecting me. Finally, three exhausting years of friendship were worth it as Bertie grabbed Tom's wrist, pulling with strength Tom wouldn't have expected and muttering 'how dare he' over and over again. Needless to say, they returned home sans gifts and cat food, Tom walking to his room in a haze before shutting the door and quietly sobbing into his pillow. I realise I am a cliche teenage girl and I don't give a fuck. It had never occurred to Tom that a million and one men would pounce on Bo the moment he was alone. Tom's phone buzzed,

Lee, Ambrose (Bo): wasn't wht. It lookd' like justgood frnd x

It was written in haste with a variety of spelling and grammatical errors. Tom gave in a replied, hating the twisting feeling in his gut, angry with himself that even with Bo making things clearer, he still felt jealous of this 'good friend.' That's because you're a possessive little brat.

You: No worries, will call at some point.

It was curt and borderline rude but he didn't care, tossing his phone across the room.

Chapter nineteen

Tom never did get around to making that call, not for almost three weeks. It seemed that day out with Bertie was the catalyst for all hell to break loose, the seventeen days following it some of the most chaotic of Tom's life.

It started with the letter. On Monday morning the postman came to the door, giving Tom a rather large, squishy package with a return address in Birmingham. Suspicious and a little scared, Tom opened it in his room. Inside was a letter from Seth Black and twenty four thousand pounds in cash. "Holy shit," Tom had said to himself, stuffing the cash back into the parcel bag before reading the letter from Seth. It was short, reading:

Tom,

Hope you're doing well, thanks for not turning me in to the coppers, nice one. The cash is yours, I heard the pigs took everything I gave ya, it was good fakes though, woulda got you shit in shops and that. Anyways, this stuff is real, promise, two grand for every time we were together aye? I got a job as a bodyguard, even though I'm a crim, good huh? Living with my sister now, looking after my nephew, he's a good kid.

You're a good kid too Tom.

I bet you're cryin right now, pussy.

Don't write back,

Seth

Tom grinned, tears rolling down his face, damn Seth knew how to work him. He'd been Tom's first meet and greet and the second man he'd every bottomed for. Seth was society's lowest and a criminal to boot, but he was a genuine and sincere man who had always hidden that darker side of himself when he was at The Circus. There was a time when Tom had thought he could fall in love with Seth, the man was crude and uneducated but had been loving in bed, somewhat renewing Tom's faith in sex. Tom spent the whole day stressing about the money, it was definitely wrong that he had it and illegal on some level or other, thankfully, he did eventually come up with a plan.

Next there was Tiffany, her birthday on Tuesday went smoothly, Tom eventually buying her some perfume he knew she liked. They went to a swanky restaurant in the evening, the five of them from the house as well as Caleb and a few other people from The Circus. Tom executed his planned surprise perfectly, smoothly getting up and the end of their meal and heading over to the grand piano in the centre of the restaurant. His fingers glided over the piano and he smiled when he saw Tiffany was already crying and shaking her head emotionally, flapping her hands in front of her eyes. Tom sung a slow, melodic cover of Billy Joel's She's always a woman, chuckling when Tiffany started to ugly-cry. They maintained eye contact, both knowing the song was filled with love, Tom seeing the woman who had helped him through the death of his parents and given him the courage to start his own business, Tiffany seeing the man who had helped her family when no one else would and given her her own stage to perform on. The applause was deafening when Tom finished, he subtly wiped away a few tears of his own. Tiffany's answer to being overly emotional was to order several rounds of shots, the night descending into madness.

Wednesday was a lost day, the first half spent still a little drunk playing truth or dare on Tiffany's bedroom floor. The most hilarious truth was finding out that Charlie had lost his virginity under a bridge in Dunstable. The even more hilarious dare was Bertie being dragged into the bathroom by a very drunk Tiffany who forced him see a vagina in the flesh for the first time, his answering shriek sent them all into hysterics. The second half of Wednesday was the hangover, the less said about that the better.

Tiffany's dramas did not end there. On Thursday morning Tom awoke to her perched on the end of his bed, breakfast tray in hand, something she only did when she'd screwed up. "Morning honey," she chimed, looking nervous. Tom frowned shuffling so he was upright and grabbing the tray from her, taking a long sip of tea, Bo had gotten him hooked on the stuff. "You should get someone to look at that," Tiffany gestured to Tom's neck where any angry bite mark stood out. He had received it that last time with Bo, not even feeling it at the time. It stung a little now, Bo had broken the skin, leaving a ragged mark where Tom's neck met his shoulder, he'd scratched the scab off so many times it was now leaving a permanent scar. A permanent reminder of him. "It's fine," he replied, taking a huge spoonful of the sugary cereal Tiff had given him, "already booked into the clinic," he continued with a full mouth. I really hope you don't have any freaky diseases Bo. Tom, like the rest of the troupe, got tested regularly and prided himself of being clean and cautious. Tiffany nodded, not smiling to her eyes and wringing her hands together. "What is it Tiff?" Tom asked, realising she wasn't going to say anything.

"Tom," she pulled her knees up to her chest, looking adorable in her huge pajamas, "I was hoping I could quit the meet and greets like you did." It was a bit of a shock, Tiffany was extremely popular with the members and had never seemed averse to her profession. However, Tom couldn't judge how now, not when he was no longer up for sale, "Okay sure," he said through another mouthful of cereal.

"Really? It's okay?" Tiff looked like she might cry.

"Of course it is you idiot," Tom put his breakfast to one side and pulled her in for a hug.

"Well, that's good to hear, because I don't think you're going to like what I'm going to say next."

What?

"What?" Tom's voice was flat.

"You know how I was having a little trouble with my hips?" Tom nodded, it had been an issue for years, Tiffany's ballet dancing days had wrecked her body, "they got a little worse the other day so I went to see and physiotherapist, who did all this testing and stuff..." this time she really did start crying, not huge sobs, but silent tears that streamed down her face. "Apparently, I've worn down some of the cartilage in my hips. The only way to stop it is to stop doing whatever it is that causes it." The answer to that quandary was obvious, stop dancing or stuff up your pelvis beyond repair. "I can finish the season of course," Tiffany continued, they only had three shows left before breaking to choreograph their christmas show, "but he said I should stop as soon as I can, otherwise it could really affect my day to day life, as well as having kids and stuff." The crying was fully fledged now, big, heaving sobs, Tom felt her tears on his bare chest. Tom squeezed the woman he felt was the closest he would ever have to a sister, stroking her hair and making soothing noises. Even as he reassured her, Tom's mind was racing, Tiffany would have to retire, he'd had to replace her, was that even possible? He couldn't imagine bringing in a new member of the troupe to replace her. He couldn't cut her out the show, it would be impossible, she was half the business. The only other option made Tom's heart clench, it would be to close The Circus.

They sat for a while like that, Tiffany's tears eventually drying, Tom cracking jokes to try and lighten her mood. Eventually, she went to get up off the bed but stopped, "hey sweetie, what's happening with you and Ambrose?"

It was Tom's turn to break then, he told her everything, including their messed up sex and seeing Bo and his mystery man. "Oh honey," Tiffany crooned, now comforting a snivelling Tom, their positions reversed. "I hate to ask this but..." she sighed, "it was consensual? Right? He didn't-,"

"Oh god no! Jesus Tiff!" Tom pulled back from where he'd been clutching her.

"Sorry sweetie I just had to know," she rubbed circles on his back.

"No...Honestly, I was really into it, fuck that's so wrong," he groaned.

"Hey!" Tiffany chastised, "don't be like that. I mean, yeah it sounds like you both are pretty messed up psychologically but hey," she shrugged, making Tom laugh.

"That's not normal though right?" Tom said softly, "like, it was fucking scary, but I knew he wouldn't hurt me, fuck, if I'd said no I know he would've stopped."

"Tom, you both grew up in weird situations, his mum ditched him and his brother for drugs, your parents didn't give a shit about you, it sounds bad but it's hardly a surprise you have funky sex."

"You sure have a way with words Tiff," Tom poked her in the ribs, where she was especially ticklish.

"Also," she got out through her giggles, "sounds like this other guy doesn't have shit on you, you're the Ringmaster for fucks sake!"

They cheered to that.

Needless to say, the next few days were full of Tom dealing with the PR nightmare that was Tiffany's retirement. He had endless meetings with marketing, accounts and even Watson, who he yelled at for a solid hour before they actually talked business. Unsure of whether or not she planned on staying invested in the company, Tom had to prepare for the outcome that she might not, which meant paying her back fifty percent of the business. That would close us down for sure. It was only when Tom's head hit the pillow on Sunday night, he realised it had been a full week since he had spoken to the man he loved.

Chapter twenty

If karma did exist, Tom must have killed a man in his previous life to deserve the next series of events. To start, Tiff did want some money out the business, less that which Tom had given her and her family in their time of need which, thankfully, was a decent chunk, but still meant organising for over a third of their assets to go to her. She actually wants money to buy a house and shit. Ugh. They'd talked about her moving out, she'd mentioned something about moving out of London but they hadn't really discussed the details.

The next shitstorm that came Tom's way was on Monday morning. He was sitting in his office when he looked up to see none other than Caleb Jones looking infuriatingly sexy in his doorway. Am I going mad? Caleb didn't work Monday's and certainly never surfaced before lunchtime. Tom eyed him suspiciously, the man hadn't been hitting on him lately, which was good and worrying, not to mention he looked more subdued than Tom had ever seen him. Maybe he's dying or something? Fuck, I cannot have on troupe member retiring and another one dying. "Hey Tom," Caleb pushed off the doorway, closing the door behind him as he made his way over, sitting in the chair opposite Tom, "you good to talk?" Tom nodded mutely, putting away his laptop. "I heard about Tiffany, that's probably pretty hard for you huh?" Caleb asked, running a hand through his dark red hair, his tongue playing with one of his lip piercings. Fuck that's distracting.

"Uh yeah," Tom found his voice, "it was a bit of a shock, but she's got to do what's best for her."

"Yeah," Caleb looked even more nervous now, "see that's actually why I'm here."

No. No. No. No. No!

"I think I'm gonna have to call it quits on this 'meet and greet' stuff man," Caleb leaned forward, elbows on knees, playing with a ring on his thumb, "I've got to make some changes in my life y'know?"

"Make some changes?" Tom's incredibly short fuse had reached it's end, "You?" his voice had taken on a nasty tone but he couldn't help in, all the pain he'd been feeling making him lash out at the closest available human. "You'd fuck a tree trunk if it asked you Caleb! What's the point it getting morals now?"

"Hey Tom, there's no need to be-,"

"What are you going to do? Go back to being an escort? Either way it's just putting your dick in a hole, why do you suddenly give a fuck?"

"Hey fuck you!" Caleb stood now, muscles bunched, ready to attack.

"Fuck you too! You want to leave so badly? Go! Leave!" Tom was screaming now, screaming and crying. The room was quiet and Caleb had this annoying pitying look in his eyes, "don't," Tom shook his head, backing away when Caleb went in for a hug, "just go."

"Tom I can't ju-,"

"Fucking leave!"

The slam of the door was the only signal Caleb had gone, Tom crumpling onto the floor, wrapped in self pity. That's right, push everyone away, nice one. This is why you're always alone. He spent the rest of the day in a zombie-like trance, making the appropriate arrangements to cancel the rest of the show season. The staff were in uproar, he ignored them, Lena and Charlie were freaked, he paid them out for the season, Bertie said nothing, proving once more to be a better friend than the rest of them. Tiffany was angry about the show but even more angry about Caleb, since when did she care so much?

Tom spent the next three days locked in his office, drinking himself into a stupor, too cowardly to do anything more serious. He coated himself in pity, loathing, anything he could find, adding layer after layer after layer. He ignored his phone until it ran out of battery, not bothering to recharge it. You fucking coward.

It was Lena's soft Australian accent that woke him up at some point on Friday afternoon, paired with a light tapping of Tom's office door. Groaning, he let her and her hulk of a husband into his office, aware of the disgust on both their faces. Oh that's right, showers. I thought hippies were into ignoring stuff like that. Lena looked concerned but said nothing. Charlie was less kind, frowning before bodily dragging Tom to the staff showers, roughly stripping him off and pushing him into the cold spray. "Jesus Charlie, are you trying to kill me?" Tom spluttered under the water. Charlie poked his head into the cubicle, firing Tom a stormy look not unlike the one he wore in Bo's painting of him, his rage but also his hurt evident. "You made Lena worry," he said gruffly, "never do that again." The threat was clear, Tom nodded violently, honestly a little frightened. Shutting off the shower, Charlie threw Tom a towel and a razor, leaving the showers only to return with Tom's backpack full of clothes. Once he was dressed and vaguely presentable, they headed back up to the office, which Lena had cleaned in their absence. "Oh Thomas," she said as they reentered, pulling Tom into a hug and running her thumbs over his cheeks, "I hate to say this but you look shocking," even as she spoke, she was pulling some handmade protein balls out of her bag, popping one in Tom's mouth before he could object. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they sat on the three cosy chairs in Tom's office. "Oh Tom, I wish we didn't have to tell you this now, after the week you've had," Lena started, "but we can't leave it any longer." This is more than I can handle. Why is everything falling apart? "You know how much Charlie and I want a family and why that hasn't been possible," she continued, taking Charlie's hand and exchanging a gooey look. "Well, we've been on a few waiting lists for adoption agencies and, because we have dual citizenship in both the UK and Australia, we registered for lists in both countries to increase our chances." Lena's eyes were welling up now and Charlie had left his chair to go and join her, the pair cuddling close, "they found a little girl for us Tom," Lena's tears spilled, even Charlie wiped a few of his own. Tom himself was frozen, simultaneously overjoyed for his friends and devastated for himself, you selfish prick. "She's in Australia though Tom and we thought, what with my family still all back there, we thought we'd go to her," Lena sniffed, "we're moving Tom. I'm sorry, but this is a once in a lifetime chance and we cannot give it up," her teary eyes shone with resolve. Tom got up off his chair, his short arms doing their best to encompass two of his dearest friends,

"Of course you can't," he wept, "I would never expect you to."

Chapter twenty one

The entire weekend was spent sorting out Lena and Charlie. Tiffany and Tom were barely speaking, her still upset with how badly Tom was coping with everything. We're closing down. What will I do now? Those two thoughts spun incessantly around Tom's head. With the cancellation of the final shows, Lena and Charlie brought their flights forward, their potential daughter Gracie, was already in a facility in Sydney waiting to meet them and Lena's parents were overjoyed she was coming home. They had a tiny leaving party on Sunday night, just the troupe and a few extra staff, Caleb didn't show. They weren't taking much luggage so Tom and Lena spent most of the weekend sorting through unwanted belongings and taking trips to the local charity shops. Tiffany was also slowly packing up a few of her things, but they didn't talk about it. On Monday morning however, Tom woke early, padding over to Tiffany's room and sliding into bed next to her, something they'd done at university when they were both homesick. She realised it was him immediately, frowning, but snuggling into his chest, he held her close, pouring all of his uncertainty into her. "Please don't be angry Tiff," he whispered into her hair. She lifted her head, staring at him with sadness in her eyes, "Oh sweetie," she whispered back, "I'm not angry," she pulled his head down, kissing his tear-damp cheeks, "I'm worried sweetie. I think you're falling apart." Tom's chest heaved,