More Text Than Sex by Jim Shomos

Author:Jim Shomos
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jim Shomos

TRACK 22

“Left,” said Johnny.

“Too soon.” ROBBIE stopped Johnny’s hand before he swiped left on the track. They were hunched together on his two-seater couch, listening to the week’s contest songs, chips, Coke, and their feet on the coffee table. The musical intro hinted at something good. Surely, it would bounce out again in the hook. But Johnny had sensed it early, the track went nowhere.

“Left.”

Johnny swiped left and they waited for the next track to kick in.

“Think I need to swipe left on this cult thing with Cat.”

“Forum said not a cult, just boring music and mantaras.” Somehow Johnny still found forums online rather than social media groups.

“Man-traars. So many of these so-called gurus are sneaky entrepreneurs. Before you know it, they have your password and bank details.”

“I’ll go. Cat likes me,” said Johnny, grinning.

The next track started with a sound worse than a seagull harmonising with a squeaky door at three in the morning. Johnny swiped left within five seconds.

“Maybe you should go.” Maybe she only put up with Robbie now because of Johnny. Some projected kindness thing.

Johnny placed his hands on his hips and flapped his arms.

Robbie stared at his brother with a question mark face.

“Me your wing-man.”

“No way. Never needed a wing-man and definitely not relevant with Cat. I’m a diversion, a pet project, a classic rebound project. Or she’s recruiting for the foundation. Happy that she’s finally accepting me as a colleague… but if I cross the line now, it will destroy everything. I either go as a supporting colleague, borderline friend, or avoid the minefield.”

“You wanted Annie.”

“That was different.” And it struck him how quickly she’d slipped into past tense. Had he given up? Was he so shallow that delayed gratification was too much a step? Or so shallow that it was a fleeting physical infatuation? Whatever the reason, Annie simply wasn’t on his sexual or romantic radar anymore. No reason necessary. No tension, past tense. He picked up the bowl and stuck three barbeque chips into his mouth. The seductive beat of the next track cut through his chip crunching. They must’ve gone through a hundred tracks without a right swipe. The track had momentum, didn’t dilute, dissolve, or disappoint. It actually evolved into a pop-dance party, then the hook blasted the track into a carnival.

Johnny swiped right.

“I’m definitely cancelling the Cat-mantra night. We don’t need the complication. She’ll be fine on her own. It’s her tribe. They’ll all be hovering to recruit me to their God is everywhere world. I’ll start arguing with them, piss off Cat, and that will fuck up our little bonding thing and worse, it could jeopardise the whole contest. What do you think?”

Johnny picked up his Coke, studying the glass closely, which created a prism effect of his face from the lamp behind him. “You think.” He took a long swig of the drink.

Fair enough. It’s my problem. I’ve got to find my path through the messy maze. I need to—

“Too much.”

I think too much. But this is important.

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