“Fucking asshole,” I muttered when he was out of earshot. “Find some other fagto suck your dick.”
And for some reason, I laughed at myself.
Because that had been sucha Jack Barley thing to say.
* * * *
After I left my dad’s place, I met the guys at the Jeanne Mance Park for a soccer game and then went home for a long cool shower. Now, excited at the prospect of seeing Jack again, I quickly jumped into those black jeans he loved on me and hurried out to meet him at the hardware store, as planned.
I waited ten minutes for him in front of the store, searching the crowded sidewalk for his face. Fifteen more minutes passed.
Was I being stood up?
I checked my phone for messages. Nothing. I dialed his number, hoping I wouldn’t disturb him at work. Maybe Jack was still stuck with one of his highbrow customers.
“Oh my God!” Jack answered my call, shouting into the phone. “I’m so fucking sorry! I just realized we were supposed to meet at the store.”