Sawdust and Berries

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

The evening was well on its way, and Kieran’s last customer, an attorney with a stiff neck and a compulsive need to whine throughout the whole massage, had left at the edge of dusk.

Kieran locked up Time Out.

Outside of the air-conditioned salon, the weather was hot and muggy even though it was past sundown.

Picking up the pace, Kieran headed east.

Above him, the neon lights twinkled like artificial stars.

With summer at its peak, Saint-Laurent street clubs and restaurants were packed with jet-setters. Kieran preferred the ‘Main’ when it was stripped bare, after the break of dawn. Only then did the trendy boulevard belong to its permanent tenants. Only then could those who’d chosen this street as their home claim and own it.

Kieran walked along the edge of the sidewalk, passing couples who were escaping the monotony of suburbia for an expensive night on the town. He brushed by them, head down, keeping right, avoiding eye contact. His earphones were strapped on tight and The Dears provided him with a soundtrack. Near his apartment building, he jaywalked across the street and stepped up to his door. It was unlocked as always.

He pushed the door open and looked around at the mess, and then at Pierre, the Frenchman who was temporarily living with them and presently sprawled out on the sofa. “You think maybe you could crack a window open?” Kieran tugged his sneakers off. “It’s hot in here.”

Pierre gave him a look and dragged his feet to the front window to pry it open.

Kieran glanced down the hall. The narrow passage led to a small kitchen, which in turn gave way to a small back balcony. Both the kitchen and back door were propped open. He spotted his ex-boyfriend Trent on the back balcony, leaning over the railing, smoking a cigarette.

On his way to him, Kieran paused by the empty water bowl. He filled it up for the parched cats. He let out a long sigh, his eyes on Trent’s naked back.

Trent’s golden hair was tied up in a ponytail, and Kieran let his gaze wander over Trent’s bare shoulders. The large raven wings tattooed across Trent’s shoulder blades still had an effect on him. Kieran stepped out on the balcony and put his hands on Trent’s sunburn skin. He knew Trent had spent the day cleaning parks for the city of Montreal in this scorching heat. He could still feel the remnants of the afternoon sun under his fingers. “Hey ugly.”

Trent chuckled a little. “Well, at least I don’t smell like a f*****g blueberry.”

“I thought you had band practice tonight.”

Trent exhaled loudly. “I’m done with those posers.”

Another band bites the dust.

“So then, do you wanna do something with me tonight?” Kieran knew it was useless to ask. They’d been separated for a year, and though he was over Trent, he missed spending time alone with him. Why? He didn’t know. Trent treated him like crap most of the time. He was Kieran’s first boyfriend. Had taught him so much.

“Can’t, man. Meeting someone.”

It would be uncool to ask who. Kieran stared into Trent’s eyes. “All right then.”

Trent looked away and left, going back inside.

Kieran blew out a long breath, feeling the emptiness around him through all the noise and chaos of the city. Living with his ex wasn’t a good idea. He’d have to find a place of his own, but money was tight. He wasn’t making enough at Time Out. Maybe he’d have to start thinking of starting his own practice soon.

Below, his Iranian neighbors were blasting their music again and the melodies were heart wrenching, filled with despair. How could they listen to this all evening without slashing their wrists? Kieran shut his eyes, gently rubbing the inside of his palms with his thumb. His hands were sore from the constant massaging, but no matter.

He was doing his own thing. He’d beaten the system. He was his own category. He fit no survey. He was the nagging note in the margin.

Trent stood in the open door. “Okay. I’m out of here. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah sure…Have fun.”

But Trent didn’t move. “Was that discontentment I heard in your voice?” he asked with a hint of satisfaction.

“Nope.” Kieran shrugged, but Trent knew him too well. Of course he was discontent. He worked all week, sometimes weekends, and came home to a messy apartment and two roommates who didn’t seem to care how they lived.

Trent’s hazel-green eyes were focused on Kieran’s face. “Mr. Miller isn’t satisfied with the state of his palace?”

“Trent…shut up.” Kieran took a step forward, but Trent stood in his way, grinning maliciously. “Excuse me,” Kieran said, trying to get past him. “Move, please.”

Trent finally moved.

In the living room, Kieran watched him throw a few things in a bag—obviously Trent wasn’t coming home tonight. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business.” Trent opened the front door and gave him a final look before stepping out.

Trent still blamed him for their break-up, but Kieran knew he’d given that man everything he had and it hadn’t been enough. Trent was passive-aggressive. Came from a broken home. Kieran couldn’t fix him, no matter how hard he’d tried.

“Well, good night,” he muttered, shutting the door behind Trent. He looked at Pierre’s open bedroom door and rolled his eyes. There was no way he was hanging out with Pierre tonight. He was exhausted. Maybe he should just go to bed.

Kieran went to his bedroom, the smallest room in the apartment and the only tidy one, and fell back on his bed, throwing an arm across his face.

For some reason, the construction worker’s face appeared in his mind.

Liam Stokes.

What a sexy man that guy was.

Liam was hunk all right. A beautiful, repressed hunk. That man’s lid was on so tight, Kieran couldn’t help musing on what it would feel like to pop it. Liam’s dark blue eyes were so kind though—almost gentle. His irises were like a quiet, indigo night.

There was something there between them, Kieran had felt it from the moment they’d locked eyes. Something in Liam was for him only. It was something untarnished. So what if he was twice his age? Kieran had learned that digits were just that—digits. All his life, people had been hung up about his age and had kept him from doing the things he knew he could do. Until he’d stood in front of that judge and made a case for himself.

Suddenly inspired, Kieran picked up his sketchbook. He hadn’t drawn anything in a long time. Too long.

Smiling down at the white paper, he decided he’d draw something beautiful.

Yes, he’d draw Liam Stokes’s face.