Chapter 1-2
874 Words
Harris knocked on Tucker’s apartment door, eager to get home and start the weekend. The door flew open and Tucker stood in the doorway, as if he’d been waiting there for some time.
“Hey, you look good,” Tucker said. “Like, better than usual.”
“You don’t need to butter me up, I’m already here.” Harris entered and snaked out of his light coat. He hung it up next to Tucker’s pea coat and walked into the living room, where he found the flat screen TV set up exactly as it always was. “Don’t tell me you haven’t even unpacked the thing. I’m going to get home and find cold takeout waiting for me.”
Tucker hurried in front of him and said, “So the thing is, there’s no TiVo.”
“No TiVo?”
“It was a clever ruse.”
Harris sighed. “Not that clever. What’s going on, Tuck?”
“I have something important to talk to you about, and I didn’t want to do it over the phone. And it couldn’t wait. Really.”
“Why are you acting so bizarre?”
“Sit down, Harris.”
Harris obeyed, starting to get worried that his friend was sick or someone they knew had died. “Just tell me what it is.”
“You know how sometimes I go on Craigslist to—”
“Troll guys.”
“—joke about how stupid the posts are?”
“Yeah, something like that. Why, what’s up?” Harris immediately felt better. Surely no one was in danger if this was some juvenile Craigslist drama. It wouldn’t be the first time Tucker made a mountain out of a molehill.
“I found this post by this guy in the city,” Tucker said. He gulped and grabbed a printout from the coffee table that had been lying face down. “It’s totally random; it’s in the guys looking for trannies section.”
“Why are you looking for that? You’re not a tranny. Or is that the news?”
“Like I said, it was random.”
Harris gave him a questioning look. “Yeah?”
“Fine, I kind of like seeing quote unquote straight guys looking for trannies. Does that make me weird?”
Harris nodded. “Keep going.”
“Anyway, this one I found says, ‘Looking for a sexy little kitten to come an ride my c**k now NSA’.”
“NSA?” Harris asked.
“No strings attached. ‘Be clean an DTF’.”
“DTF?”
“Down to f**k. ‘My boyfriend refuses to tie me up’.”
“I don’t blame his boyfriend. You’re in the mood and all romantic and turned on, and suddenly it’s like ‘oh, how do you tie the right knot?’ It’s too much pressure and it takes me out of it every time Dalton asks me to. He’s a top and all, but it’s, like, weird sometimes.”
“Uh, right. Then the post says ‘So can’t host, but willing to sneak out to your place anytime. Hung 8 inch athletic build, sexy tats, an always hard an ready. Send pick an put dominatrix with dix in the subject and lets have some fun now.’ So yeah.”
“Okay. Some cheating asshole with tattoos wants to cheat on his boyfriend. What’s the problem?” Harris glanced at the time on his cell phone, eager to get away from Tucker’s melodrama. If he came home too late for Dalton, his boyfriend would be in a bad mood, and he’d have to spend an hour apologizing.
“There’s no face picture, but there are some body pics and, like, selfies in a bathroom,” Tucker explained. “I obviously haven’t seen Dalton’s c**k, but I’ve seen some of his tattoos and your bathroom.”
Tucker turned over the paper; Harris’ jaw dropped. He knew that body intimately.
“I don’t—that looks like—maybe it’s just—awfuckhescheatingonme!”
“Maybe he hasn’t gone through with anything, yet?” Tucker grimaced.
“What? How could I ever trust that he hasn’t?” Harris asked, his body shaking.
“I don’t know, Harris.”
“I have to assume he’s been slutting it around the city when I’m working.” Tears came to Harris’ eyes, although he didn’t feel like he was crying. He felt numb and had to concentrate to keep the room from spinning. “Oh Christ. I can’t go back there. I should confront him about it, right? Right?” Tucker shook his head. “He’ll just deny it. I know, I know. Tuck, do you have any fake email accounts?”
“Um.”
“And any self pics of chicks with d***s?”
“Maybe, somewhere.” Tucker shrugged his shoulders up past his ears. Harris shook his head and pulled out his cell phone. “What are you doing?”
“Texting Dalton that I’m going to be home late.”
“Oh. Why?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see him right now. You need to catfish him.” Harris could already picture the scene. He nearly broke down in tears, but he resolved himself and stared into his friend’s eyes. “Tell Dalton to meet you at some cheap motel for a quickie. That’ll get him out of the apartment long enough for us to grab my stuff. I hope. Can I stay here for a little while?”
“Of course you can. I’ve been thinking of getting a roommate to help with the bills, anyway. I just didn’t want to go through the whole vetting a stranger ordeal. Consider yourself vetted.”
Harris threw his bony arms around Tucker and pulled his friend into a tight hug. “I hate people.”
“I know, sweetie.” Tucker patted his back soothingly.
“Maybe it’s not Dalton after all.” Harris pulled back from Tucker and picked up the print out. The raven tattoo on his shoulder was identical, and his pubes were trimmed just like Dalton’s. “A lot of people have raven tattoos like that on their left shoulders, right?”
“And a red and black star on their sides? In a bathroom with your shower curtains?”
“I bought those shower curtains, and I’m taking them with me.”
“That’s right.”
“Three years, completely wasted,” Harris said.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because they weren’t wasted.”
“How?” Harris asked.
“Look, I know it’s super shitty right now, but—”
“Don’t,” Harris said.
“But I’m just saying you’ve grown a lot as a person. You’re more patient and stuff now.”
“You don’t think that’s just because I’m three years older?” Harris asked.
“I’m three years older, too. You think I’m any more mature?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“See? And sure, Dalton’s not the one, but I think you’re more ready to meet Mr. Right now.”
“That’s nice and all, but right now I’m boiling over.” Harris had to concentrate to speak instead of punch walls.
“I don’t blame you. It’s going to be ice cream sundaes and booze tonight, right?”
“Oh yeah.”
- Writer
