Page 14 of Don't Point at the Moon

An old school friend, Devon Lee, had roped him into helping to clean up Rocky Bay Beach. And if he was going to be perfectly honest, having something meaningful to do on Sunday morning meant not sleeping the day away. But he’d be damned if he was going to act bright and breezy.

Bleached blond Devon stood in the road outside his apartment block, grinning broadly, wearing tight white shorts and an equally fitted vest with the words Power Bottom Dweller in rainbow colours across his chiselled chest. In the bright light of morning, he looked sickeningly healthy. In his favour, he held out two huge cardboard coffee cups.

“Late one last night?”

Assuming the question to be rhetorical, Tommy focused on the cardboard cup Devon held out to him.

“You look like you might need this.”

“That bad?” asked Tommy before taking a sip and letting out an obscene moan.

“There is a cosmetic surgery post-op vibe about you this morning. You look like death served cold.”

Devon loved English idioms but often got them wrong. Tommy had given up correcting him.

“Nice.”

“Public transport or taxi?” asked Devon.

“Taxi. Definitely taxi. Full air-con taxi. And can we not get a driver in a rush to be reincarnated? Or one of those old bastards who like to tap out stop-start-stop-stop-start Morse Code on the brake pedals? Unless you want to watch me puke milky latte,” said Tommy before looking up at a couple of passing clouds. “Is it going to rain?”

“Doubtful,” said Devon, stepping onto the road and flagging down a red taxi. “But I’ve got you covered. Packed a couple of North Face lightweight waterproofs in the backpack, just in case. Do you have a hat?”

“Shit.”

“Thought not. I also brought a spare baseball cap.”

“Do I want to know what obscene slogan I’ll be sporting?”

“What do you care?” said Devon, opening the rear taxi door. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. Come on, before I change my mind. And on the way you can remind me why I am doing this at such an ungodly hour of the morning.”

Tommy belted up in the back and slipped on his Ray-Bans, filtering out the offensive sunlight and letting Devon’s voice lull him.

“Darling, it’s a beach clean-up, to clear the trash away from the public area and the shoreline so people like us can at least catch rays and ogle tight Speedos on an unspoilt beach. Or swim in a relatively unpolluted sea without the fear of watching used condoms or dirty diapers float past.”

“Ugh.”

“I know, right?”

“Shouldn’t the government employ people to do that? Isn’t that why we pay taxes?”

“The government always has more pressing priorities. Like persuading the over-eighties that vaccinations are safe and a good thing.”

“More to the point, darling, since when did you become all radical eco-warrior?”

Devon seemed to have been waiting for Tommy to ask. After twisting his upper body around, he removed Tommy’s sunglasses, waiting until they faced each other.

“So…” he said, drawing the word out and giving Tommy his full, excited attention. “Tuesday night. Fruits in Suits. Talked to this gorgeous polar bear. Woke and hot.Nat-Geogorgeous. Wrote his number down on this flyer.”

Devon went on to explain how his new hottie spent weekends either doing punishing hikes around the New Territories, dragon boating or volunteering for one charity or another. Hanging on to the man’s every word, Devon had enthused about how he had been considering joining a beach clean-up—a total lie, of course—and the guy had provided all the details, telling Devon how much he looked forward to meeting him there.

“Here you go,” said Devon, handing him back his sunglasses and reading from the glossy sheet. Even without a hangover, Tommy could never read in a moving car. Trains and planes were fine, but never in a car. “Make sure to dress appropriately for the weather. If it’s sunny, bring a hat and sunscreen—”

“I didn’t—” began Tommy.

“Once again, darling, I’ve got you covered. Sunblock factor fifty,” continued Devon. Tommy closed his eyes and let Devon’s voice wash over him. “Next. Wear appropriate footwear such as trainers and definitely not flip-flops because there may be hazardous objects on the beach such as tin cans or broken glass.The events team will provide you with a goodie bag including gloves, trash sacks, an energy bar and a water bottle—a reusable one, naturally. They’ll also furnish gay volunteers with a pack of ribbed condoms and sachets of lube—”

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