Me and My Big Mouth

Max slammed the front door, threw his jacket and his house keys on the hallway floor, walked into the living room, and fell onto the sofa flat on his face.

“You’re back early.”

He lifted his head. Noah was sitting at the dining table, files and notebooks and huge law books open in front of him. Max dropped his head back into the sofa cushions and groaned loudly.

“What’s up?”

He heard Noah move away from the table, and the arm of the sofa creaked. Max turned on his back to look up. Noah’s dark and concerned face peered down at him.

“I got sacked.”

“Again?” Noah sighed. “What did you say this time?”

“What makes you think it was something I said?”

“I’ve met you before.”

“Harsh. Though probably fair. But it wasn’t my fault this time, I swear. He asked.”

“Who asked what?”

“My boss.” Max winced. “The bar manager. He asked how come he never had any luck with women. Come to think of it, it might have been one of those rhetorical questions.”

“But you answered it anyway.”

“It just slipped out. I kind of said he might do better if he didn’t model his facial hair after 1970s porno actors.”

“Max…” Noah shook his head. He hadn’t face-palmed this time at least.

“Well, it’s true! And helpful. I gave him useful information he can act on. He should be grateful.”

“How many times have I told you, you should never tell your boss the truth?”

“Are you saying you never tell that guy Owen the truth?”

“No, I meant you, specifically you, Max Sagan, should never tell yourboss the truth.”

“I was brought up to be honest.”

“I know. I was there. But there’s honest and there’s oh, my God, stop talking now.”

Max sighed and sat up. He picked up the remote from the coffee table and pointed it at the Blu-ray player. The opening credits of Thor: The Dark Worldstarted playing.

“It’s for the best,” he said. “Work was really cutting into my perving at Chris Hemsworth time.”

Noah took the remote from him and turned off the movie. “So what next?”

“I should go back to concentrating on my long-term project of finding a sugar daddy.” He liked that project. It involved getting plenty of beauty sleep. “Or I could sell my hair.”

Noah clicked his tongue. “Mum would kill me if I let you sell your hair. Besides, you can only do that once. Or at least only once every couple of years. And nice as your hair is, I don’t see it bringing you in enough to live on for two years.”

Max pulled his long blond ponytail over his shoulder and combed his fingers through it. As good as the hair was, it had so far failed to snag him even a steady boyfriend, never mind a sugar daddy.

“So I suppose it’s time to go on the game after all.”

“Shut up. You know you have to have a job.” Noah frowned and bit his lip. “Look, Max, I told myself there’s no way I’d do this and I’m absolutely sure I’ll regret it, but a job just came up where I work. The girl who had the job left suddenly. I’m not sure why. Anyway, it’s admin and general dogsbody work. Office junior, you know, filing, making coffee, that kind of thing. You’ve done that before.”

Max grimaced. Work at a law firm? Him? Even the pub he’d been working at until an hour ago had felt a bit staid for him. A firm of lawyers? Not that he had anything against lawyers. Noah had finished his law degree two years ago and was mere weeks away from completing his on-the-job training to become a fully qualified solicitor, but still…

“I’m not sure I’d fit in.”

“I’m quite sure you won’t. But you only have to stay for a few weeks while you find something more suited.”

“I wouldn’t stay if they don’t take you on after you qualify.”

The firm currently employed Noah and another trainee, but didn’t have to take either of them on as a solicitor after the two-year training contract ended. Noah smiled and batted Max’s shoulder.

“Do they still wear wigs and cloaks?” Max asked, grinning, teasing.

“That’s gowns, not cloaks, and barristers wear those, not solicitors. But you know this because I’ve told you a million times. Let me give Owen a ring and see if you can come in tomorrow for an interview. I can’t promise you more than to ask if you can have an interview, but they need someone desperately. I bet you’d get it.”

“Why are they so desperate?” Max asked suspiciously.