Page 30 of Hello Forever
Earlier I’d asked Amy if she wanted to see a movie. It was the first time I’d asked her to hang out since she’d told me about her I.T. boyfriend. But they had plans together. Of coursetheydid.
I’d been so desperate not to be at loose ends that I’d asked each of my three brothers to the movies. I was even prepared to see a kid flick with Scotty. That’s how desperate I was. But to a man, they were busy. Even Scotty, who had a sleepover birthdayparty.
It was like God had ordered me to drive to Merryline to bewithAxel.
I’d thrown a change of clothes and a toothbrush into my duffel bag, and, as the GPS directed me out of town, I said a silent prayer that none of my brothers would end up needing me tonight. It would be just my kind of luck for someone to have a crisis when I was ninetymilesaway.
Still, I went. This adventure felt like a stolen opportunity. Nobody knew where I was going, not even the man I was going to see. My father never left town. And he had no friends in Merryline, a posh suburb where rich Bostonians moved to have largeryards.
It was incredibly liberating to walk out of my life for anight.
Then there was the matter of the gay bar. When Axel had written me that he was going, my first reaction was,I could never go to a place like that. But after I thought about it for a while, I pictured Axel going there alone. And then I pictured Axel getting hit on by half the men in the bar. That bothered the shit out of me, because I knew it wouldhappen.
Of course, my traitorous brain moved the daydream right along—to Axel leaving with a guy. Axel making out with him on a hotel bed. Axel’s clothescomingoff…
That image was what finally gave me enough incentive to cast aside my fears and get intothecar.
It was a long and winding road eastward toward the Boston ’burbs. When I got close, I stopped my car to gas up, and while fuel filled my tank I emailed Axel. He’d check the email account, wouldn’t he? Unless he’d written me offalready.
Caxtastrophe:Where are you? I’m about ten minutes fromthebar.
I got my answer before the pumpclickedoff.
Axeldental:Changing to go out. Pick me up at the Merryline MotorLodge?
He didn’t express any shock that I was here. I didn’t know whether to be annoyed orgrateful.
To the confusion of my GPS device, I detoured to his motel. When I pulled in, I realized I didn’t know how to find him. But the second time I scanned the row of motel room doors, I saw Axel jogging towardmycar.
He opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “Hey,” he said. As if we did this allthetime.
“Hey. I’m still not sure this was agoodidea.”
He beamed at me, those chocolate eyes twinkling. The smile he gave me went straight to my dick. “Of course you’re not. But we’re doing thisanyway.”
“Really? You want to go to a place called TheShaft?”
He pointed out the windshield. “Drive, Cax. We have to see the place, if only for the entertainment value.Let’sgo.”
So I drove. It was only a couple of miles away, and when I pulled into the parking lot, the female voice of my GPS announced the success. “You have arrived at…TheShaft!”
We burst out laughing. And it feltdamnedgood.
I followed Axel into a cavernous, crowded room. Men were three deep at the bar. There were tables all around the edges of the place and pool tables in the farcorner.
Axel spoke into my ear, because it was so loud I wouldn’t hear him otherwise. “I’m going to fight my way over to the bar for some drinks. You want a glass ofcabernet?”
I shook my head. “Beer. Whatever you’re drinking.” I reached for my wallet, but he put his hand on mine. “I got this. Berightback.”
He walked off and I let my eyes roam, trying to take it all in. Men with men, as far as the eye could see. I’d always wondered what freedom looked like. And now I knew—it looked like this place. There were a few women here and there, but they were the exception. Mostly I saw men in pairs, their heads together—talking, laughing.Kissing. I tried not to stare, but their openness was an educationforme.
My eye kept snagging on one couple in particular—two guys in their twenties. Each of them held a bottle of beer in one hand and the other man’s bicep in the other. They were pressing kiss after open-mouthed kiss against one another. Like long lostlovers.
And now I was hard and feeling guilty forstaring.
Axel returned with four bottles of Shipyard Ale. “Let’s find somewhere quieter,” he said, pointing his chin toward the back. I followed him to a recently abandoned high table, empty glasses stillclutteringit.
A bus boy wearing painted-on jeans and a wifebeater hustled over to clear it for us. “Thanks,” I said before sitting down on one of the barstools.
