May 5th

I know that gay men are supposed to be a girl's best friend, but in my experience that's a crock of shit. Maybe the types in the bright pink shirts with the helium voices who flame with the fire of a thousands suns are females born into the wrong body but me; I am just not that guy. I wish girls would realise that. The women who've known me a while have learnt that my sexual preference doesn't make me much different from their boyfriends, but lately it seems like every girl I meet who finds out wants me to be her new gal pal. They talk at me about guys like their experiences and mine are even going to be remotely the same. I can't lie. It pisses me off righteously and it's usually the fastest way to ensure that I will NOT be your new pal.

"Can I sit here?"

"Oh, sure," Luca waved a distracted hand in consent without even bothering to check who was sitting down in front of him. He was engrossed by the only English language newspaper he'd managed to find that day in that random town he'd forgotten the name of. It was a copy of the Guardian and he was starting to wish he hadn't bothered - it was talking about a lot of British politicians he'd never heard of.

His sneaker clad foot tapped almost noiselessly against the linoleum. A few hours before the show, everybody had flooded into catering for the evening meal. About half an hour after they had, Luca had decided to join them. As such the food pickings were slim and the seat pickings were anorexic. Of late he'd been sitting with the band more than anybody, but today he'd been shoved on a lone table in the back with only his newspaper for company.

"Anything going on in the world?" The same voice asked him. Finally he looked up to acknowledge her, shutting the paper and giving up.

"Probably but damned if I can concentrate long enough to find out."

She giggled softly, and now he'd looked up he knew her as Lydia, one of the stylists. She wasn't high enough up the chain to do Justin's stuff; she was probably in charge of a few of the dancers, but being a wardrobe person he didn't come into contact with her much. For all the PR rhetoric on them being a family, he knew a few people really well and just about knew everybody else's name.

Now he thought of it that did make them practically the same as his own family.

"See I don't bother with that intellectual stuff, I just people watch."

"Watch anything interesting?" He asked out of more politeness than interest as he dipped his roll into his vegetable chowder.

"I watched you once or twice."

Luca eyed her warily, wondering if this was some kind of flirtation. He needed that like a hole in the head, especially after he'd already turned down one willing female on tour. He wasn't completely in the closet, but he was selective about which situations he let his sexuality be known in. With all the testosterone and macho posturing he saw on a daily basis he had quickly decided that this tour was not going to be that situation. He never lied if asked, but he made sure that there was little reason to ask.

"Really." He pushed a hand back through his long and somewhat curly hair. "See anything interesting?"

"Nothing out of the usual." She smiled at him and he breathed an inner sigh of relief. Thank God she wasn't going there.

Though he tended to be a lone wolf, whenever forced into company Luca always felt obliged to make small talk. He wasn't especially good at it, but in his experience it was amazing how long people would talk about themselves given some well timed 'hmm', 'absolutely' and 'exactly' treatment. The right nods in the right places and they would walk away thinking you were the best conversationalist in the world, and such a good listener. He just never knew what to say.

"So anything new and exciting going on in your department?" He asked politely.

"Besides the fact that every time I take in somebody's costume they then lose another couple of pounds and I have to do it yet again?" She sighed and took a sip of Pellegrino. "Not a lot. You?"

"I think I may have turned somebody's mike back on a second too early for Damn Girl last night."

"What thrilling lives we lead. You know somebody told me this job was supposed to glamorous?"

"Filthy lie."

"You're telling me," Lydia snorted, pulling a cross eyed expression. Lightly he chuckled. Of all the awkward small talk he'd had to make in his life, this didn't suck quite so badly as usual. "I think I'm going to write a letter of complaint to… somebody. I have no idea who."

"I suppose JT would be the man."

"I suppose he would be. So how long have you had a crush on him?"

Luca nearly choked on the hefty bite of bread he'd taken. As it was, he definitely swallowed it the wrong way and it pushed painfully down his throat until it was cleared. The look on her face irritated him, and it irritated him for two reasons. The first was that she looked so smug, like his near death experience had proved her right, and the second was that she'd looked entirely unbothered by his oxygen issues.

"Excuse me?" He said when he'd finally managed to breathe adequately enough to speak. It was just a blessing that she'd managed to keep her voice down and that the rest of the din in the dining room would drown her out.

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone. I just have excellent gaydar. Plus it takes one to know one."

He shook his head out, like her words were some strange buzzing in his ears that he could rid himself of. "You saying you're a lesbian?"

"I'm saying we share a crush," she sighed with a sad smile. "It sucks, doesn't it? Looking on and knowing there's no way. Good thing I like his girlfriend or it'd be really brutal. Oh well, nice to know I'm not the only one in the club."

All thoughts of continued conversation with the woman flew immediately from Luca's head. He couldn't get up and stomp out, so instead he opened his paper back up and tried to look like he gave a crap who had just been elected Liberal Democrat leader - or like he knew who the Liberal Democrats were. It was an equally effective way to cut her back out.

She might think she had some common ground with him, but she was very wrong. They were in two completely different clubs and her inappropriate (not to mention embarrassing) raising of the sexuality issue had just guaranteed that he would never speak to her again. Call him mercenary, call him judgmental, but he was very quick to accept or dismiss people - he had little time for pleasantries and frivolities. He liked somebody or he didn't, and having stumbled on one of his biggest pet peeves Lydia had found herself the most direct path to being disliked imaginable. Besides the fact that Luca could not share her admiration of Justin's taste in women, she was a complete fool if she thought she and Luca were in the same boat.

Fleeting as it might be, she had a hope. Justin gently flirted with every woman on the tour, and Lydia could comfort herself with the thought that maybe, just maybe, if he became single she had at least a snowball's chance in hell. Luca couldn't say the same. There was no chance of him being flirted with, no chance of Justin ever looking at him differently. He knew that, he accepted it, and he could live with it. He wasn't the first gay man in the world to have a hopeless crush on a straight guy.

He just really hated girls trying to act like they could empathise with it.

His phone also provided a welcome interruption as the distinctive A-Team ring tone blasted out. The distraction proved momentary when he did his customary pre-answering check of who was calling and he saw it was his dear old Dad. Scowling even more furiously than he had when Lydia had decided to butt her nose in where it wasn't wanted, he pressed the end button and cut the caller off before it could go to voicemail. It was unusual for his father to call more than one every six months, but this was the second attempt in what was probably a month or so, give or take. Briefly his curiosity was piqued, but then his usual seething resentment for his sperm donor set in and smothered it.