The Cranberry Hush: A Novel by Ben Monopoli Read Free Book Online Page A

pinched softly
at the corners—as easily the result of a cute cozy sleepiness as the DNA
influence of his Japanese grandmother.
    “This isn’t your personal motel,” I said.
    “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you already had a
reservation.” His voice was low, hard. Anger was hiding his embarrassment.
    “Reservation?”
    “Him.” He lifted his chin toward the door. “Hot stuff,
Vince.”
    “Oh for fuck’s sake.”
    I stomped to the back closet, pulse throbbing, just to get
away from him, wondering what I should do next, wondering whether I should take
his keys away. I wanted to take his keys. How dare he embarrass me like this in
front of Griff? And be so disrespectful of this store? I paced around the
little closet. If he was still there when I went back out, yes, I’d take away his
keys. But only if he was still there. I started to go out but I wasn’t ready to
deal with it yet, so I stalled. Who was
that guy? I wondered. Are they dating
or was he just a trick? I was going to make him hot chocolate! I watched
snow puddles form around my boots. Finally I switched off the light.
    He’d waited. He was still there.
    “I’m sorry, Vince, I know, I know.” He was standing with his
hands stuffed in his jacket pockets. “It’s just that he was nervous and we didn’t
have anywhere else to go. You know I can’t bring him to my house. My
parents—”
    “Your homophobic parents are not my problem. Have a little
fucking respect.” I sighed and then actually said, “Give me your keys.”
    He cringed. “...What? Why?”
    “Just do it.”
    “Don’t you have to talk to Simon first?”
    “And what would I say, huh? By the way, Simon, Zane was
getting sucked off on top of your cash register last night. I’m sure that’d go
over well.”
    “Give me a fucking break, Vince,” he said, jerking his head.
His earrings clinked together. “It’s bad enough that because of you I have
blue-balls now.”
    “Sorry.” I held out my hand.
    “Fine.”
    He dug in his pocket and pulled out a red carabiner looped
with key rings. He picked through the rings and slipped one off. He bypassed my
open hand and slammed the keys down on the counter. He walked to the door.
    “Hold on,” I told him. I felt a stab of guilt when he turned
expectantly—I’d only meant to turn on the security system. I punched the
numbers. When I said OK he opened the door. I grabbed the keys off the counter
and on my way out spotted Griff’s phone on the floor where we’d been reading
the comics. I detoured to get it and followed Zane out.
    “Where’d they go?” I locked up with Zane’s keys.
    “I bet Jeremy took off,” he said without much regret,
looking toward the parking lot. In the floodlight his spiked black hair looked almost
blue. “Your boy’s in your car.”
    “He’s not my boy.”
    “Well whoeverthefuck.”
    Our tracks were a beaten path now from all the late-night
back and forth. My Jeep was alone in the lot. I opened the door.
    “That kid hit the road,” Griff reported from the passenger
seat. “He was pretty freaked out.”
    “He was just a queerling anyway,” Zane said, and looked at
me. “And his head sucked.”
    “Pun not intended, I assume,” Griff said. Zane grinned.
Griff leaned over the driver’s side and offered Zane his hand. “Griffin,” he
said. Zane took it; they shook.
    “Zane.”
    “Ah, the famous Zane of Golden Age Comics?”
    “Formerly of Golden Age,” Zane said. I felt his eyes on me
again, heavy and dark.
    “Get in,” I said, pulling the front seat forward. “I’ll
drive you home.”

 
    I could tell Griff was glaring at me even though
his hat covered his eyebrows. “You really fired him?” he said.
    I pulled the door shut and buckled my seatbelt. In the beams
of my headlights I watched Zane stomp his sneakers on his parents’ front steps
and go inside their blue-sided colonial.
    “I took his keys.” I backed out of the driveway and pulled onto
the street. “Whether I