Husband Hunters by Rick R. Reed

Author:Rick R. Reed [Reed, Rick R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2019-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Matt was getting ready to turn in for the night. He had to get up early the next day for his summer job with the park district, where he oversaw a day camp. He thought he should tidy up a little before crawling under the sheets. He could at least throw away the Pagliacci pizza box on his coffee table and put the Mac & Jack’s ale bottles lined up next to it in his recycling bin before allowing himself the luxury of slumber, but he was too tired—and maybe a little too drunk—for even that much effort.

“Fuck you all,” he said to the box and bottles littering his table, as though they had ears. “You’ll still be here in the morning. That’s the thing about trash. It always sticks around.” He took a few steps toward his bedroom and then snorted. He completed the thought with, “Unless it heads on over to Victoria, BC.”

He thought the bark of laughter that issued from him sounded bitter.

He pulled the comforter off his bed and let it lay in a heap at its foot. He stripped out of his camouflage cargo shorts and black tank top and flung himself down on the sheets in just his boxer shorts. He realized, with disappointment, that he was even too tired to initiate his nightly wank before sleep. He made puppets of his two hands. One hand said to the other, in a deep voice with an inexplicable Mexican accent, “Sorry, honey, not tonight. I’ve got a headache.”

A cool breeze blew in through his open window. Matt thought with his exhaustion, the three ales he had drunk (or was it four?), and the pleasant temperature, he should have drifted immediately off to sleep. Yet once he lay down, the thoughts rose up to torment him.

He realized the alcohol he had consumed was an attempt to find oblivion. Now, here in the darkness, he could admit it to himself—all weekend, he had been eaten up with jealousy. And the alcohol, instead of obliterating the heartache, had only unleashed it.

While Matt spent Saturday and Sunday alone, not doing much, Cody was off with another man, perhaps his future husband, on the gorgeous island of Vancouver. He could see them, laughing as they walked hand in hand along the harbor’s edge, bathed in golden light, their gazes locked. Last night Matt hadn’t slept well either, because he had imagined Cody in the other guy’s arms.

Matt had been to the Empress before. His parents had taken him there once when he was much younger, so he could visualize perfectly the ornate, old-fashioned bedroom. But there was nothing old-fashioned about the pornographic movies that ran through Matt’s mind, starring Cody and what would have to be a perfect man, someone who looked maybe like Ryan Gosling or Jake Gyllenhaal. Someone perfect. Someone unlike Matt. What ran through his head was insomnia- and nausea-inducing and strangely titillating.

He finally drifted off to sleep around dawn on Sunday morning and then dreamed of Cody.

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