Max - Bey Deckard Page 0,41
away from him as possible. Red-faced, he didn’t blame her. Once upon a time, in his ironed button-downs and spotless Dockers, clean shaven and bright eyed, she might have given him a polite smile of greeting. Now, everyone gave him a wide berth. He sniffed at himself discreetly—it didn’t help that he smelled like old beer and sweat. Sighing, he looked down at his feet, sockless in his beat-up brown loafers. How had he let himself get to this state?
The sidewalks outside were crowded with their usual tourist traffic, and he had to dodge and weave the whole eight blocks to the tiny grocery store. Pensive, he loaded the wire basket with some fresh produce and artisanal pasta. Maybe he was bisexual… He didn’t feel it, though. But, did it matter, really? All he knew was that he was confused and spent all of his time running away from thinking through that confusion. Sure, Max had mellowed out some. Depraved kinks aside, he acted sort of sweet and caring with him. Patient. It was as if he’d decided not to devil Crane anymore with his lies and tricks. Overall, Max was an attentive partner who challenged him in interesting ways.
Partner. Yeah, that sounded better than boyfriend. Crane slowed to a stop in the middle of one of the narrow aisles and closed his eyes, his stomach churning.
He ruined your marriage, your practice, and now he’s working on your health—mental and physical… He’s not a partner, he’s a predator, he thought, jaw clenched. And don’t forget Mr. Bertrand… Someone touched him on the shoulder, and he jerked back, crashing into the soup cans on the shelf behind him.
“Eh, monsieur… ça va?” said the startled clerk, reaching out to steady the cans before they fell to the floor. “Monsieur?”
“Um… oui,” Crane replied, “I’m okay. I’m fine. Sorry.”
“You… euh…” The young man mimed drinking something.
“I am not drunk,” growled Crane, pushing past the clerk. He set his basket down on the counter hard and fixed the stunned cashier with an icy stare. She rang him up quickly, and he left the store with as much dignity as he could muster.
At the pharmacy, he floundered in the condom and lubricant section. Silicone? Water based? Why were there so many kinds? Flavoured? They were at the very end of the aisle, so he was right in view of anyone walking by. Embarrassed, he kept his head down, reading the backs of the bottles and tubes. In frustration, he dug the phone out of his pocket and dialed Max’s cell. It rang only once before Max picked up, sounding much more awake than earlier.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?”
“I’m getting your… um… well, there are so many different… kinds of lubricants.” A man one aisle over stared at Crane, and Crane turned his back to him, lowering his voice. “What do you like?”
“I’m easy,” laughed Max. “But nothing ‘warming’ or that smells like fruit. Just buy a small thing of it though… I’m going to order a tub of Boy Butter online.”
“Boy… butter?” Crane asked weakly, glancing over at the other aisle; the man was still standing there, wearing a disgusted expression, and Crane scowled at him. If the man hadn’t assumed he was gay before, he did now.
“Yeah… It’s really good lube. Hurry back, big boy, I’m getting horny just thinking about lubing up that gorgeous dick of your—”
“I’ll be home in twenty,” Crane said hastily and hit the End Call button. He’d broken out in a sweat and fumbled trying to put the packages back on their hooks, dropping one on the floor. Face burning, he picked it up and saw it was the store-brand lubricant and decided to buy it, hoping it was okay. As he hurried past the other man, he heard a whispered faggot, and cringed, nearly running to the cash.
The last stop was on the way home. He found the rum Max had requested and chose a nice bottle of wine to go with the spaghetti he’d decided he was going to make. If Max didn’t want to cook, well so be it. Standing in line at the cash, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out and frowned at the message.
Don’t go back. It had come from an unknown number. As he stood staring at it, the phone buzzed again, startling him. Get out while you can.
Who is this? he typed out awkwardly with his left hand.
A second later came the answer: Eddie.
For maybe half a heartbeat, Crane was so stunned he