The Beard by Mark Sinclair Read Free Book Online Page A

on his desk and looking disinterested, “I’m always being dragged to Amy’s work parties, so it’s her bloody turn to return the favour!”
    Carl, who was nowhere near as inscrutable as he thought, nodded. The information had been collected and would duly be conveyed. His eyes sparkled as if to suggest a gem stored safely. Was he convinced or did he see through this conversational ruse?
    “Well, with a free bar, you’ll get a shag out of it, won’t you?” Carl said and immediately stared at Tom’s face, awaiting his reaction. Tom slouched back in his chair and snorted.
    “Chance would be a fine thing,” he said and stared back at Carl. Momentarily, they were staring each other out.
    Affording Tom the respect his answers dictated, Carl spun around. “It’ll be alright,” he said over his shoulder. “Whatever happens, it’ll be fine.”
    And with that, another opportunity passed. But glimpses of a new era were surely now dawning.
    Tom stared at the back of Carl’s head and wondered what he knew or what he’d meant. He sat gazing, lost in thought, his body in suspended animation.
    “Oi,” said a voice. “Oi!” it came again.
    Tom turned around to see Jake, a twenty-year old, cock-sure, sharp-suited boy racer – one of the less-likeable sales guys – standing above him. “Alright, bummer?” he said. “Dreaming about cock, are you?”
    The room, which was already silent from people working diligently, seemed to quieten further still. Tom sensed a collective intake of breath and its subsequent holding. While this was a typical retort in a macho environment, he was keenly aware that this level of derisory bonhomie had never been directed at him personally. Why?
    “Nope,” said Tom staring at Jake. “But your girlfriend evidently was. I was just wondering whether to reply to her text asking for a decent shag. What do you think? Should I show her how a man successfully satisfies a woman?”
    There were sniggers around the room as Jake was deftly put in his place. Any questions as to Tom’s capacity to pleasure a woman could wait. As before, they were quietly filed in the folder marked ‘Misc’, ready for another day.

EIGHT
     
     
     
     
     
    As the cab splashed its way through puddle after puddle towards the Palace Hotel, Tom began to wonder whether there were any fjords in town that he wasn’t aware of.
    The black cab, each window steamed up and criss-crossed with trickles of speeding rain, masked the miscellaneous blurs of luminescence from businesses plying their wares into the night. The garish yellow grab handles and bars dotted around the cab gave a surreal colour context to the rest of the dingy interior.
    The stormy night ensured that conversation was limited. Any attempt at a meaningful chat was duly drowned out by the thud of rain on the cab roof. Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the leather-bound cabin as the thunder melted into the rumble of the city beyond.
    Tom fidgeted uneasily in his suit. He was confident enough in his capacity to be social, but less so in his role as Amy’s boyfriend – a role he’d only played in spirit. This was his grand debut and he knew that he was both on display and on trial. 
    “What if they ask me about our sex life?” he asked nervously.
    “WHAT?” shouted Amy, trying to be heard over the beating rain.
    “WHAT IF THEY ASK ME ABOUT OUR SEX LIFE?” Tom shouted. The taxi driver looked at them both in his rear-view mirror and smiled. Amy blushed as it became aware that he’d heard the question. She sent a fiery stare in Tom’s direction. Tom, having missed the taxi driver’s glance, failed to see what he’d done wrong. 
    “Tell them what you like!” Amy replied testily.
    Tom stopped trying to make meaningful patterns from the black polka-dot floor covering and looked straight at her. “So, you’d be happy if I told them that you love leather and have a thing for dildos?”
    Amy checked to see what the taxi driver was doing. Tom