Baren Edwards looked around the restaurant, eyeing the patrons sitting limply in their seats - inside only the escape the heat. It was the hottest day of the year. Being inside - with limited or no cool air - was just as miserable as being outside in the sticky heat. However, the residents of Seattle did not see many days like this and usually would not necessarily complain unless, of course, the heatwave could be used as a topic of conversation; an invitation of welcome camaraderie once the day had finally settled into night and the expectant coolness that came with it. Some of the patrons looked back at him, and either quickly looked away or offered a slight smile - as they were on common ground, basically guests of familiar tastes. He wondered if they had a passing thought of the older black guy sitting with the young white guy, for it did seem a tad out of the ordinary...even to him. Not that he really gave a fuck what they were thinking. Sometimes that kind of wonder, Baren felt, was only the direct burden of being an artist or sorts.
"What's on your mind?"
Baren turned his attentions back to his friend, Cade Banning, a twenty-file year old guy he'd meet eighteen months earlier through a common friend. He and Cade had hit it off immediately and discovered that they really enjoyed each other's company.
"I'm wondering if anyone is wondering what the old black guy is doing with the young white kid," Baren said before taking a sip of sauvingnon blanc.
"You know, you worry too much about what everyone thinks. And you don't look old. Remember that shit someone said about black not cracking?"
Baren smiled. Cade's drawl was total stoner burn-out diction which led to an attractive quality he had.
Cade continued. "I know its hard not to wonder what people think of us since your fucked up friends thought that you were in love with me."
Baren laughed. "I guess they couldn't see the dreamy connection we have."
"Dreamy? That's fucked up. Don't worry about what anyone thinks."
"I don't. You know I don't. Thinking about other people's thoughts sometimes leads to ideas and right now I can use all of the ideas I can get right now."
"What about that thing you were doing for...uh, you know that thing, with the buildings."
"The photography."
"Yeah, that."
"It's still in production right now. I'm just itching to write something and I'm still blocked."
"You need to fuck somebody, that's what your problem is."
"And your problem is that you need to stop paying attention to my sex life."
"You're not paying any attention to it, unless you're looking to make the world's record in masturbating."
"Fuck off, Cade."
"You want to do a shot of tequila?"
"Uh..."
"My treat. I just got a raise, allow me to buy you something once in awhile."
"Alright," Baren said.
Cade was used to being in company of older men. They were his preference. So Baren knew that he had no such qualms surrounding him. It was something about the salt-and-pepper hair and the slight formations of a belly mixed with the experience that older men have with the added touch of being with a younger guy made them feel more attractive. More wanted. Or maybe, just maybe, the sudden interest the media has stated about older men being hot was either a trend or an asset finally realized.
Cade waived down their waitress as Baren continued to look around at the patrons, wondering if they somehow really were thinking of he and his young companion.
Eli Pruitt sat in the hospital waiting room, wondering what was actually going on. The day started off normally enough for a Saturday. He got up, went for a run, had a little breakfast and started work on a song that was on his mind. Suddenly, he heard his girlfriend moaning in the bedroom. He thought that maybe she had cramps, as she sometimes got them really bad. But her moans had become louder; intense. His concern took him into the bedroom where she was balled up, her arms wrapped around her folded legs and the agony on her face - a contortion of extreme distortion - that he thought that he'd somehow walked into someone else's bedroom.
She refused to be taken to the hospital at first, but the pain had become too much to bear and he could no longer listen to her almost-wails. His insistence and her inability to speak forced them both to the emergency room. Now, here he sat worried about her, wondering what was happening inside of her body that caused her to look so different from her usual beautiful self. He had called her best friend, Kendra, and had awaited her arrival as well. Now she sat a few seats from him, worry spread on her face and her fingers intertwining and twiddling and playing off each other. Kendra was a nervous girl. Eli sometimes wondered how she ever got the job of managing Bethany's band, Cherry. Yet, she seemed to come through with everything from play lists to live performances to recording. Actually, Eli found Kendra somewhat of a fascinating girl. Not that he ever thought of them ever...okay, maybe a few times.
Just then, a doctor appeared in the waiting room. Eli recognized him as the physician who took Bethany back behind some curtains and asked him to wait. Both Eli and Kendra jumped up out of their seats and scattered towards the doctor.
"Doc, what's going on?" Eli asked.
Eli listened carefully not understanding much of anything but the word infection. When he heard that word coupled with abortion, his mind went blank for a moment. The doctor's words became nothing more than an inaudible blur. He turned towards Kendra, an expression of horror across her face. Abortion? Infection from the abortion...
Eli suddenly didn't care what the doctor was saying.
"Start talking," he commanded of Kendra.
"I just think you're cutting yourself short," Cade said.
The walk from the bus stop to Baren's apartment complex was a struggle within itself. With the heat, the two shots of tequila and the wine he'd been drinking all through their early dinner, Baren told himself that even though he felt as young as he once was, his body was reminding him that his 40 years of age should be something for him to consider when drinking, among other activities.
"I think you should just shut up," Baren told Cade.
"Just think of all the dick you're missing out on."
Baren laughed. "Baby, I think you're taking most of the dick you're speaking of. Remember, I don't like guys younger than me so that means that you're actually macking on my possible dates." Did he just use the word macking?
"Oh, fuck off, Lonely Man."
"That was uncalled for. I'm not lonely..."
Baren and Cade suddenly stopped in their tracks. They both looked at each other and then down at the grass panel in front of Baren's apartment complex. They watched Eli laying across the grass, smoking a joint.
"Eli, what are you doing?" Baren asked.
"I need a place to stay. Can I crash?" Eli said, his stone voice almost like Cade's normal one.
"Of course."
"Hey, you're Cade right?" Eli asked.
"Yeah, we met back in May at one of Baren's gatherings."
The three of them stood around in awkward air until Baren broke through the thick. "So, uh, Cade you wanna come up?"
"Nah, I'm going to head to The Cuff to play some pool. Will I see you later?"
"I'll give you a call."
"Talk to you later. Eli, take care man."
Eli moved into a sitting position. He offered Baren the joint. Baren took it and inhaled. They both watched as Cade walked to his jeep - parked in front of Baren's apartment building - and got his skateboard. He threw it down, jumped on it and rolled down the street on the way to The Cuff.
"C'mon," Baren said. "I'm sure you really need someone to talk to..."
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