The bar was open plan and Alex observed that there were about ten customers in on Sunday evening. The lunch crowd had been busy as usual as Craig served an excellent menu, which enticed in the family crowd. These were the diehard drinkers, mostly older single gentlemen not interested with the hustle and bustle of students on the pull which filled the place on Fridays and Saturdays. The place popular with groups of girls as well as the usual Friends of Dorothy. Alex had a thick skin and was used to lewd comments and truly awful pick-up lines. As a fresh face, he had been propositioned about fifty times on the last two shifts.

A forty year old man with grey hair an startling blue eyes came in and ordered a pint of Guinness. No comment was made on Alex being new, but the guy watched him pass his initiation as a barman of being able to pull a decent pint, with the required slow pull, wait and top up needed for a good head on the dark stout.

"We have met before?" the guy asked smiling. " Do you model? I honestly can't place you, but I'm sure I've photographed you."

Alex remembered meeting the professional photographer, who had been recording the lost, the lonely and the desperate hanging around Soho in 2005. At that point, the eighteen year old runaway had been hanging with Callum, another teenager, but one who was happy to use his body to get by. Alex had been picking pockets and Callum had been his drop man. Happy days with the two of them splitting the loot. Callum had started as an escort earning enough for a flat and to pay for college and Alex had moved on to his job as tea boy and labourer. "Old Compton Street, late April 2005, a Friday night. You asked me if I needed a place to stay. I called you an old perv and to fuck off. I'd just had about enough of randy guys trying to pick me up. Then again, I was a thief not a rent boy. Callum started working as an escort after getting in with Costa's agency."

The silver haired man cast his mind back to his favourite past time of art photography rather than paid work. He had recorded the underclass in London for nearly 25 years. "Teenage runaway then? I guess you never worked for Costa Theopolis then"

Alex had gone with Callum to his audition, but you had to be as beautiful as a model to work selling your body and a scarred and paranoid ex-spy was not employable. "Not his type. I got a job on a building site and have been getting by, still for cash in hand work. "

"You could model and I'm surprised he turned you down." As an occasional portrait and fashion photographer, Simon Carrington knew exactly who Costa was; a larger than life rich successful owner of two clubs in Soho, three escort agencies and a model agency. The new barman was tall, lithe and a natural blond. He would have signed him for modelling work. The kid would have been skinner at 18, right in the the heroin chic look.

The photographer sat and watched people. His gaze was drawn to the new barman. Typical as for once, he was not looking for a date or for future work. Now, he was intrigued by this ex-street kid. As his third pint was being pulled, the single patron sat at the bar asked "Would you join me for dinner sometime?"

The barman smiled and shook his head amused. "That is my first actual request for a proper date." Alex sadly thought of not just this weekend but nearly three years. He decided to lighten his mood with some humour, "So far this weekend I've had fifty-seven offers of a come back to my place for good time or get your coat you've pulled."

"Name the day and time, we can meet somewhere neutral and go to eat wherever you fancy. Indian, Thai, Chinese...even a greasy spoon or burger place. I am not fussy."

"I have to rain check, ask me again next week, if your here. I have a busy schedule this week." He had already agreed to work three days for his landlord, to clean gutters and some basic maintenance. All guaranteed to be dirty a, heavy work. He was also a bit skint after paying rent. His nest egg was his emergency fund, one he would not touch. This week he would be eating instant noodles and large amounts of cereal. All cheap and filling. Dinner out would be wonderful, but Alex expected he had to at least be able to pay his way.

The offer of dinner had Alex thinking of this handsome older man, who wanted to get to know him, not just fuck. He wondered on this as he had cycled home as he had no recollection of which route he had used, when he was normally fastidiously careful about never using the same way twice in a row. He had memorised the map and all the possible variations north and south, by main roads, cycle paths, side roads and through parks. He wanted to read up on his would be suitor. Then he it hit him like a sledgehammer, he had no aversion to dating a man, in fact he had liked the attention. The last man he'd been attracted to had been the devil himself, the man who had loved him and died for him, Yassen Gregorovich. God, Cossack had been beautiful and Alex had long since stopped hating him and was no longer conflicted. It had been his first adult relationship. At fourteen he had stopped being a child and missed all the teenage fumbling, crushes, dating and heartbreak. Mr. Photographer was the chance of him actually doing a relationship properly.

At nearly midnight, Alex expected his flatmates to be tucked up in bed. He had locked up his bike and made his way into the kitchen for a cup of tea, he heard Christian and Lee were busy dealing with the zombie infestation via their games console. Alex remembered hours of gaming marathons with Tom and James, when Ian was working and could disapproved of such a waste of time. After everything, the ex-spy could not think of anything worse than pretending to go on a mass killing spree.

Alex stood watching the mayhem from the door sipping his tea.

"Hey, Al, good day at work?" asked Chris without breaking concentration on the vile hoard shuffling towards him and falling in a hail of bullets.

"Lunch was manic. Got asked out on a date."

"Nice chap?" Lee asked.

"A strikingly handsome older chap. Well dressed and very polite. I rain checked as I'm flat broke and the only place I could afford to go halves on this week is McDonalds. Not the type of place Mr. Artistic Photographer frequents, though he might to photograph the low lifes that hang out there."

Christian then turned around, "I take its a quite famous photographer who has asked you out."

"Yeah, well, must be as I've heard of him." Alex wondered if the man had photographed him all those years ago, maybe even caught on film lifting a few wallets.

"Come off it, Alex. Spill! Tell us who wants to wine and dine you?" Christian could not think of any that lived locally.

"Carrington, thats his name. I bet he doesn't come back in the Dog and Duck. He was living with that violinist wasn't he." Alex had nearly finished his cuppa and was completely shagged after three long shifts.

"That was about ten years ago, Alex" scoffed Lee.

"What can I say, I've had a bit of a lost weekend that's lasted ten years. I have no idea about Chelsea and I used to be a season ticket holder. Last film I saw in the cinema was the first Lord of the Rings movies. I'm off to bed. I have to be on the other side of Tooting for nine."