Page 17 of Seen
“Do you get on with him?” I ask Isaac, curious. Like me, Isaac’s as happy at home as he is out socialising, and Neil’s from Ezra’s world, not Isaac’s.
“Yes.” Isaac tilts his head, studying both men. “It took me a while, but I do. I think people expect him to be a certain way, you know? The wild frontman, the brash man-child, the guy who’s slept with literally everyone. And he plays up to that.” He grins. “It gets him a never-ending string of hot guys. But…” Sipping his beer, he considers the subject of our conversation, currently grinding his own hotness on stage. “He’s not like that in private. For a start, he’s always been there for Ezra, back when our father abandoned him. He gave him money and let him doss on his sofa when Ez had nowhere to go. He’s amazing with Jonty, and now he’s fully committed to this business. He’s put in just as much effort as Ezra to make this thing work.”
We don’t say much more. A woman I don’t know drifts over to say hi to Isaac, engaging him in a deep conversation about some other people I don’t know, leaving me in peace to drink mypint and enjoy the show. When the set wraps up, Ezra and Neil join us, flushed, breathless, and still humming with energy. Ez greets Isaac with a sweaty, open-mouthed kiss.
“Ugh, get off, you stink.” Laughing, Isaac pushes him away.
“You fucking love it, babe.” Ezra throws his arm around Neil. “Great fun, my friend. We should do more impromptu stuff, they ate it up. Or maybe make it a regular thing on a quiet week night during the winter months. We could do, like, two-for-one drinks for an hour or something. Drag people out from in front of the telly.”
“Sounds good.” Neil distractedly swipes a hand through his damp hair. Isaac’s ordered them a pint of lager each, and he downs half without pausing for breath.
“Maybe we should invest in some aircon too.”
Ezra waggles his eyebrows. “You could always wear less. That will also entice them in.”
Neil pulls at the front of his sticky shirt. “I’m going to take the rest of this drink upstairs and jump in the shower.” His gaze lands on mine, a furrow between his brows. “Luke. Can I borrow you for half an hour or so? To…uh…show you some more…uh…paperwork?”
Ezra smirks. “Be careful, Lukey. He’s pulled that line before.”
Neil shoves him away. “Shut up, dude. Whilst you were off sunning yourself on Italian beaches, I was stuck here keeping us afloat. Luke helped me read some of that stuff the accountant sent. Remember? I told you it was on a complicated spreadsheet? My dyslexia rejected it.” He throws me the charming smile, the public one I’m increasingly convinced is not one hundred percent real. “I have something else I was wondering if you could take a quick look at.”
“Um…sure.”
Isaac’s eyes narrow suspiciously, since this totally appears like something it’s not. He gives Neil a hard stare. “You sure youdon’t want to hang around here a bit longer, Luke? Alaric and Gerald will be here soon.”
“No, it’s fine.” I place my empty glass on the bar. “I won’t be long.”
Neil’s silent as we walk up to the flat. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” He rubs tiredly at the scruff on his jaw. All pretence at being the showman has gone.
“No, go ahead.”
“Won’t be long. Grab yourself another beer from the fridge, if you like.”
Ten minutes later, Neil joins me back in the sitting room where I’ve been trying not to anxiously fidget. I’m half wishing I’d stayed downstairs. Isaac offered me an out, except that curiosity got the better of me.
“Hungry?” he asks. He’s dressed in a pair of navy trackie bottoms and a faded band T-shirt. His damp hair hangs loose around his shoulders, and he pats at it with a towel. If anything, he seems tenser than before his shower.
“Not really.”
He huffs a laugh. “Me neither. If anything, I feel a bit sick.”
“Why?”
Neil shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably because of the shit going around in my head. I haven’t been sleeping well. Are you sure I can’t get you another drink?”
“No, I’m fine. Um…can I ask why you really invited me up here?”
Neil drops onto the sofa, rubbing at his face. He’s shaved in the shower, the stubble from earlier gone. “To…to tell you that you were right about my eyes.” He says it so quietly, I almost don’t catch all the words. “Except you know that anyway.”
Shoulders dropping, he stares at the floor between his feet.
“Can I ask what the problem with them is?”
“Yeah.” He blows out a breath. “I have something called retinitis pigmentosa.” His gaze finds mine. “Have you heard of it?”
We studied every area of medicine at med school, including that six-week ophthalmology placement. Although healthcare would be much easier if medical conditions existed in silos, they don’t. For example, an eczema patient might also have thyroid disease, which, although unrelated, affects the choice of eczema medication. Psoriasis can be a mild or aggressive standalone condition, or part of a complex autoimmune disease also affecting the joints and kidneys. A patient with skin cancer may also have diabetes. And so on. Which is a longwinded way of saying that, as well as being a skin specialist, I know a little bit about a lot of other organ diseases too.
“It’s inherited.” I chew on my lip, casting my mind back to a heavy blue textbook. “Autosomal recessive, I think?”
