To the Max

by Julie Lynn Hayes

  “Of course I am interested, Max. I’m interested in everything you do. You know that.” She giggles as she tries again to get around me. My face feels hot; I’m sure I’ve just discovered ten new shades of red as I push the catalog back into Richard’s open hands while Rachel scoops up the puppy and bestows affectionate kisses upon her which are returned a thousandfold.

  “Please put that up, and we can look at it together later, okay?” And I arch an eyebrow at him to let him know that I am serious, the no-fooling-around look which I’ve perfected years ago. And which he totally disregards. He takes it, leans in to me for a kiss, speaking in a loud stage whisper, “I think Rachel is old enough to know what sex toys are and how they’re used, Max.” But he gives me a bemused look as he leaves the room with the offending object. I shoot Rachel a glance. She pats my blushing cheek.

  “Yes, Max, I am,” she reassures me. I don’t need to hear any more, I think.

  “Um, you know where the decorations are, Rach. At least you should by now,” I quickly interject as I finish putting the potatoes in the boiling water—I leave the skins on for flavor, just thoroughly scrub them first—and begin to crumble the bacon that has been cooling in the meantime while the hard-boiled eggs are doing their thing in the refrigerator. “Want me to get you a drink?”

  “I’ll get it, honey. You’re busy,” she says, and I can hear the laughter playing in her throat. She reaches into the cooler set against one wall, filled with ice and cans of assorted soft beverages, as it’s far too early to start any serious drinking, even for us, juggling the energetic canine with one hand while she draws out a can of diet soda. “C’mon, Princess,” she coos to the baby as she carries her off with her.

  I am still working on coffee, myself. Richard allows me a second pot on days when I need the energy, though normally one is the limit. He says he doesn’t need a nervous werewolf on his hands. Funny, isn’t he?

  Maggie is the next arrival. I can hear her squeals of delight as she greets my lover, who is doing God knows what in the living room. Within a few minutes they are both in the kitchen, and Maggie too has her own cockade, stuck at a jaunty angle atop her head. Maggie’s cheeks are flush with color and her eyes glow. “Hello, Maggie.” I take the bowl of taco salad from her, lifting the burped lid and sneaking a peek at the contents, fishing out a piece of cheese from the top and quickly stuffing it in my face. “Max, behave!” Maggie chides as I obediently place it with the pasta salad and the JELL-O salad within the cool confines of the ice box. “Happy Fourth.” I grin boyishly.

  “Happy Fourth, Max,” she responds, casting an eye at Richard. “What can I do to help?”

  “Give Rach a hand with the decorations?” I suggest. “I think she’s in the library right now.”

  “Sure,” she says agreeably, heading in that direction. I give Mr. Burke a look, and he meanders over to me, looking mighty fine, let me tell you.

  “What are you up to, then?” I ask, taking his hand in mine without thinking and smearing some of the bacon grease from my palm to his. He merely brings it to his mouth and licks it off, which I find incredibly sexy for some reason.

  “This, that, and the other thing,” he replies vaguely, which causes the hair on the nape of my neck to prickle suddenly. “Need me to do something? I’m not busy at the moment,” and he presses up behind me now, running his tongue over my neck. I moan and involuntarily arch backward into his touch before I snap out of my inadvertent reverie.

  “Richard, we can’t do this right now; we have guests. And besides we’ve lots more to do. You want to help the girls while I finish up in here?”

  “Of course, sweet thing,” he says agreeably, but he doesn’t move, creating a vacuum with his lips and hoovering the skin at the base of my neck. God, that man has poor timing sometimes!

  I am saved at this moment by Maggie’s re-entrance. “Rachel says you have a stepstool we can use, Max?” she is saying, before, “Oops, sorry, guys,” as she tries to back out of the room unobtrusively. Richard has the grace to unhand me and retrieve the requested item from the walk-in pantry.

  “I’ll help you with that,” he says, taking it for her, winking roguishly at me and walking back to the family room with her. Now I can finish what I am doing. Good. And allow my libido time to get back to normal as well. The potatoes reach just the right doneness, not too soft and not too hard. I remove them from the heat. Nothing else needs attending in the kitchen right now, so I grab a few sodas and work my way into the library to see how they are coming. Richard is nowhere to be seen, and Rachel and Maggie are sitting together on the sofa, eyes glued to something between them, which they are turning the pages of and commenting on to one another. With a blush, I recognize it as the aforementioned catalog. So this is his idea of putting it away?

  “But what do you actually do with that?” Maggie is asking with all too much curiosity, pointing at an object on one of the pages.

  “Well, you just take it and slide it over—” Rachel breaks off as she notices that I am in the room. “Maybe you should ask Max. I’m sure he has experience with them.”

  “If Max has any experience with them, Max isn’t telling,” I hastily interject, holding out my hand for the offending book, even as I notice that the room is fully decorated and looking good. Maggie’s eyes are looking past me now, and I feel the presence of my lover behind me, as I turn and give him one of my “looks.” “In here?” I ask in a tone of great disbelief. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking we’d be sitting in here later to look at it, was what I was thinking,” he replies smoothly. “I didn’t realize that anybody else would be interested in it. You can request one of those online.” This directed toward Rachel. “That’s how we started getting them. I can send you the link, if you like?”

  “Sure,” Rachel says, even as I nudge my lover out of the room with, “Take it to the bedroom, please?” and he grins and complies. Which ends that discussion. At least for now.

  Mid-afternoon sees the arrival of Cat and Sebastian. They make a very handsome couple, I think, as I note the intimate way that they walk together, his arm possessively about her waist, the soft glow that suffuses her face, and the love that shines from their eyes whenever she looks at him and he looks at her, which is often. They both deserve happiness. I am happy for them, and I wish them the best of luck from the depths of my heart. I just wish that my cousin and my lover got along better. Sebastian makes no bones about his distrust of Richard, and Richard doesn’t hesitate to give as good as he gets. But I know he cares for Cat and has made more of an effort not to get into Sebastian’s face since they have been together. Let’s hope that that is the wave of the future.

  Cat carries a bottle of Asti Spumanti, which she and I take into the kitchen, tucking it away into the fridge for later, as well as a box of Belgian chocolates. She does know my weaknesses.

  “I finished reading the last chapters you sent me,” I begin, “and I think they’re marvelous. Have you started shopping for an agent?”

  “No, not yet,” she admits with an embarrassed grin. “I mean, why bother until I’m done, you know? Just in case?”

  “In case what? In case you forget how to write?” I ask a trifle flippantly as I hand her a cold can and another one for Sebastian.

  “In case I don’t finish?” she suggests. “Or in case I run out of things to write? I’m not as secure as you are about things, Max. I worry, you know?”

  Her words only draw a laugh from me. Me, secure? Since when? “You’ll be fine, Cat; you’re a very talented writer. I know you’ll do well,” I attempt to reassure her. “Look how far you’ve come, and you’re still going strong.”

  Before she can make any sort of self-deprecating reply to this, my cousin comes in and claims his lady, taking his soda and frowning for a second ’til she tells him softly to behave and their lips meet. Is this my cue to leave the room? Cat pulls back, as if aware of my thoughts, and Sebastian says, “What time do you expect Juliet and Diana?�
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  “I don’t know that Mother is coming. Why, did she say something to you?”

  He shrugs casually. “No, but she always comes. Why should this be any different?”

  “I don’t know, maybe she could be sensitive to the idea that maybe I don’t want Reverend Fuckface here in my home?”

  “Max, I understand how you feel,” Cat interjects, my sweet little peacemaker, “but maybe she can get him to change his attitude about you two, make him see that you two together is simply right, not wrong?” She worries at her lower lip fretfully.

  “Cat, I think it’s the other way around. I’m afraid he’ll convince her not to have anything to do with the fucking sodomites,” I can hear the touch of bitterness in my own voice, and I try to swallow it, not let this ruin the occasion. I take a deep breath. Control, Max, it’s all about control. When I look up, I see Richard standing in the doorway, not sure how long he’s been there.

  “Max, can I get you to give me a hand outside for a moment?” he asks.

  “You go on, Max,” Cat urges, “is there something we can do?”

  “No, everything’s done right now. Rachel and Maggie are in the library. Why don’t you join them? I’ll be right back.”

  She pats my arm reassuringly before taking Sebastian’s outstretched hand. “Sure. Everything’ll be okay, Max. You’ll see,”

  “Max, you’re not wrong. They are,” Sebastian says. “Just remember that.” Surprising words from my normally gruff cousin. Cat’s influence, no doubt. I like it.

  “Thanks, Bastian.” I join Richard, note the curious look he gives my cousin.

  “Although your taste is questionable,” Sebastian adds, which actually gets a small smile from my lover.

  “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about Cat,” he quickly quips.

  “Okay, separate corners.” I push Richard ahead of me out the door, rolling my eyes as Cat takes her unruly charge in hand as well. “What do you need help with, love?” I ask as we approach the barbecue area, where I can smell the burning briquettes as they smolder in the bottom of the smoker.

  “I was wondering if the chicken is in the marinade yet,” he says, glancing back at the house.

  “You know it is; you watched me marinate it this morning, remember?” I cock my head and give him a quizzical glance. “And the barbeque sauce is already bottled. Now what is the real—”

  But before I can finish the question, Richard gathers me up into his arms and stops my words with his lips. I fall into his touch, losing myself in the rich mesquite aroma that clings to him, smoky and mysterious, and for a moment we are alone in the world, just he and I, and nothing else exists but us. “Max, you are so precious,” he whispers into my lips. I feel my knees weaken at his words, and I am seriously contemplating sneaking him back into the bedroom, even if for just a few minutes.

  But my concentration is broken as my keen ears pick up the sound of tires on gravel from the front of the house. We look at one another apprehensively. It could just be Diana and Jackson, but it could also be my mother and the minister from hell, and maybe Richard’s mother as well. She has spoken to him a couple of times since the day of the lunch that never was at my mother’s house, but I have no idea what about. He never says anything when he hangs up, as if he doesn’t wish to discuss it, and I never press the issue since it seems disturbing to him. He kisses me again, softly, and whispers, “It’s showtime, folks.”

  We walk around the side of the house, along the paving stone walkway we laid ourselves, with the intent perhaps of watching the arrivals without announcing our presence yet. There are actually two new vehicles to be seen: my mother’s white Oldsmobile and Diana’s blue Blazer. My sister and her son are already out of the vehicle, and with them is Jackson’s best friend and constant companion, Nathaniel. Diana carries a vegetable tray while the two boys each sport a backpack, which I suspect contains my nephew’s Playstation and assorted games. Them I’m not worried about. I glance toward the Olds as two heads emerge, both female. I breathe a quick sigh of relief for at least being spared his hateful presence today in our home. How I will feel about my mother’s remains to be seen. Then I realize that Richard is frozen at the sight of Moonsong, and I remember that he has never given her our address for a reason. But now here she is. I furrow my brow in sympathetic worry as I stroke his arm softly in an attempt to comfort him. “It’s okay. You know she’ll disappear soon, and we won’t even hear from her for another twenty years.” Even as I say the words, my traitorous mind adds, “Well, maybe you will, the next time you leave me.” And I bite them back hastily. But he must feel my unspoken thoughts, for the eyes that meet mine are troubled, dark and stormy. My heart leaps to my throat. He looks like he is about to speak, but the moment passes, and we step forward to greet our guests.

  We aren’t the only ones, I see. Rachel and Maggie, with a squirming Principessa, are ahead of us, and greetings are being exchanged all around. Moonsong reaches for our baby and cuddles her. Everyone just loves to hug that dog, luckily she doesn’t mind being pampered, and her two fathers spoil her the most. “Come to grandma, baby!” she gurgles, and I feel rather than hear Richard’s groan.

  “She’s darling, Max,” my mother declares, getting her own patting of the puppy in. “Wherever did you get her?”

  “She was a gift from Richard,” I respond, squeezing my own true love’s hand tightly.

  “Well, aren’t you the sweet one?” Moonsong praises her son, even as I feel him stiffen within my grasp. She obviously doesn’t know him as well as I do; she ignores all the signs that he is not happy nor comfortable with this, and giving Principessa to my mother, throws her arms around us both.

  “Richard is always sweet,” Maggie defends him indignantly, and Rachel seconds that idea. They are nothing if not loyal.

  “Richard is the best,” I say simply, brooking no argument. There is none given.

  “Max, do you mind getting my Crock-Pot out of the back seat?” my mother asks. Of course I don’t mind, what else are sons for? But when my love would follow me, his mother claims him.

  “Show me around your house,” she encourages him. His blue eyes meet mine with a mute appeal that tears at my heart.

  “Go ahead, I’ll catch up,” I say with a nod. I instantly send a distress signal to Rachel, which she picks up on, and she and Maggie form a guard of honor around Richard as they enter our home in a strange sort of phalanx.

  Behind the driver’s seat of the Olds I find the Crock-Pot, still warm with the cheese and salsa concoction contained within its stone depths, as well as two bags of white corn tortilla chips on the backseat. And interestingly enough, Jackson and Nathaniel have followed me as well. I heft the pot into my grip and turn back toward them. “Pick up the chips, will you?” And I wait to hear what they are obviously waiting to ask me.

  “Uncle Max, do you mind if we hook up the Playstation to the TV in your bedroom and use it for a while?” Jackson asks. Nathaniel hangs on my answer. He is a soft-spoken young black boy who stands several inches in height below my gangly nephew.

  I don’t really mind. I know it must be boring for the two of them to hang around us “old” people for great lengths of time. If I allow them to play their games and spend some time in their own company, then I am sure they will be more than agreeable to joining the rest of us for dinner and fireworks. This is Nathaniel’s third Fourth with us. They are both good boys. “Sure,” I agree. “If I can get you to take this into the kitchen and plug it in over my counter, I can go make sure the room is presentable.”

  “I’ll take it,” Nathaniel offers, holding out his hands, and I gladly give my burden over. I swiftly make my way to our bedroom as they scamper off to do my bidding, my main purpose being to make sure the aforementioned catalog isn’t in plain view, as I am afraid it just might be, knowing Richard. Which it is. But what surprises me most is that it is in the hands of Sebastian and Cat, who sit on the end of my bed, leafing through it together.

  I st
and there open-mouthed for a minute or two before they are aware of my presence. Cat blushes, but Sebastian only grins. “Nice book,” he comments, holding the publication up as he speaks.

  “Um… what are you doing in here?” I stammer, rather idiotically to my own ears, I must admit.

  “Hiding for a minute,” Sebastian replies honestly. “I heard the hordes pull up, and I was afraid Juliet brought the dishonorable minister with her.”

  I shake my head. “No, the only person she brought is Moonsong.”

  “Ah, your mother-in-law.” He nods sagely.

  “She seems nice, Max,” Cat offers with a hopeful glance at me.

  “I dunno. I can’t really say. She just doesn’t seem to have been much of a mother to Richard.” Richard. That reminds me I’m supposed to be rescuing him. I reach out my hand for the catalog and thrust it furtively into the bottom drawer of my dresser, beneath my clothes. “I told Jackson and Nathaniel they could hook up the Playstation in here, so be warned that they’re on their way. I gotta go.” I hastily pop out of the room, looking to locate the tour group.

  I find them in the library. Moonsong is admiring the decorations, the books, and the piano, and as I enter the room, I can hear Richard’s voice making terse replies to her questions. “Sorry,” I murmur, “I was straightening out the bedroom for the boys,” as I take my place beside my lover, slipping my hand into his and squeezing it.

  “The way those two carry on, they’re like an old married couple,” Diana jokes, “I don’t remember talking to any of my boyfriends on the phone the way that they do. Sometimes it seems like their conversations last twenty-four hours.”

  “That’s not funny!” my mother’s voice rings out. “My grandson is not gay!”

  The tension in the room has just risen a thousandfold.