Camp Echo - Chapter 9

 

    

It rang four times before someone picked up.

 

“Hello,” the voice answered.

 

“Ah, yeah, hi...” Max couldn’t be sure the voice on the other end of the phone was Davy. He'd only met him once, very briefly. He wasn't sure why he was even bothering to call. Why didn't he just drop it?

 

“Can I help you?”

 

It sounded like it could be him, the voice of a teenager. “Is that Davy?”

 

There was a pause before the reply came back. “Do I know you?”

 

“No. I guess, I mean not really.”

 

“Is this some kind of a joke?” Davy sounded annoyed.

 

Max thought he might just hang up. “No, no,” he replied quickly. “I’m Max. We met at Reuben's, remember? You called me, but I was out.”

 

Another pause. “Yeah. Well, what do you want?”

 

The tone of Davy's voice did not sound very welcoming, but then why should it. They didn’t know each other. Davy had left just after Max had arrived at Reuben's.

 

“I’d like to meet up.” Straight to the point. Why not? He'd say yes, or no. That's what Max thought, but he wasn’t anywhere near right.

 

“Why? You trying to pick me up or som’ing? Cos if you are, forget it. I’m not interested unless...”

 

Thoughts raced through Max’s head as he sought to interpret the conversation. “Unless what?” Yeah, that was the key word, unless. “What exactly did you and Reuben do?”

 

Crunch time, this was what Max wanted to know. He didn’t know why, it was more than simple curiosity. Perhaps it was all connected to self-discovery, he was intrigued about Reuben, because he’d never met a guy that...

 

“That ain’t really none of your business.”

 

Max’s thoughts were interrupted by the reality. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”

 

Davy laughed, which was unexpected. “Okay, we can meet, if you really want?”

 

“Tonight?” Max wasn’t going to let the opportunity slide.

 

“No, it’s a school night. You do know how old I am right?”

 

“Yeah, you’re at school, so like what? Sixteen, seventeen? Anyhow, I just wanna talk to you.”

 

“Should I really believe that?”

 

This conversation is verging on a pick up, and he did only want to talk to the boy, didn’t he? God he wasn’t sure about anything. “Yeah, you should. And anyway you called me remember?”

 

“I was curious.” Davy's voice had completely changed. From annoyed and aggressive to warm and silky. Jekyll and Hyde.

 

“Me too. So when can we meet up?” Max asked.

 

“Friday.”

 

It wasn’t a suggestion, more like that's it, Friday or never. Max said that was fine and asked Davy to come over, which he readily agreed to. So he gave him the address. After hanging up, Max started to replay the conversation in his head, but abandoned it, unable to work out if something was going on or not. Was there a hidden agenda? Never mind, he’d soon find out.

 

 

 

When the doorbell rang and Nathan was there, Max was pleased. A smile lit up his face and was returned by Nate.

 

“Can I come in? Or maybe we just stand here?”

 

Max was staring. The boy looked good this morning in the gloom of the kitchen, but he looked even better now. He practically shone, or was that the late afternoon sun catching his auburn hair?

 

“Yeah, yeah, come on in,” Max laughed and put an arm around Nate’s shoulder, ushering him inside.

 

“Go on up,” Max closed the front door, then followed him upstairs. The tight jeans Nate wore were faded, outlining perfectly his neat little arse.

 

“What’s the joke?” Nate studied Max as they stood at the top of the stairs.

 

“No joke, Nate. You look stunning and I was laughing at myself for standing gobsmacked at the door.”

 

Nate blushed.

 

“Come on in,” Max moved down the hall to the front room. Once inside he went over to the deck, bending down to check out the LPs stacked on the floor in the corner. Nate followed him, flopping down in the large bean bag on the floor next to him. Picking out a record from the pile, without paying too much attention to which one, he glanced over to Nate.

 

“Make yourself at home,” he smiled.

 

“Thanks,” Nate grinned, laying back in the bean bag.

 

Max placed the record on the turntable, switched on the stereo and moved the arm across, carefully lowering the needle to the outer edge. The speakers crackled and popped into life with the Moody Blues. Max stood up and switched on the old gas fire, lighting it with a match. It burst into flames with a whoosh as the gas ignited.

 

“It’s bloody cold in here,” Nathan remarked as if Max hadn't noticed.

 

“It’ll warm up in a bit,” he turned back looking at Nate lying there.

 

Max shoved the other large bean bag next to Nate and plonked himself down.

 

“Come here.”

 

Nathan shifted across, closer to Max, who reached over and pulled him into a hug.

 

“The Moody Blues?” Nathan looked straight at Max.

 

“You know you’re beautiful?” Max squeezed him tighter, making the boy blush again.

 

“Didn’t you say this morning that you didn't want to sleep with me?”

 

Max let go. “You know you’re a real tease?”

 

It was getting dark outside. Max stood up and walked across the room to draw the heavy curtains. Those same curtains had once adorned a pub somewhere in London. Jules had liberated them from the trash bins and offered them as some sort of contribution towards the rent. Perhaps he had been feeling guilty for taking up residency in the front room. Or simply the opportunity had presented itself. It looked cold outside, the street lamps were just coming on. That weird pinky red tint changing to an amber glow as they warmed up. Inside the gas fire wasn’t doing much to raise the temperature.

 

“You got any dope?” Nate asked as Max was looking at the street and contemplating the curtains.

 

He turned around finished the task and came back to join Nathan, picking up his little stash of papers and cigarettes. The Moody Blues had moved on. Max had a huge grin on his face as he sat back down on the floor. It is kind of magic, he thought to himself, taking in the lyrics and where they found themselves. Taking a couple of cigarette papers he licked the edge and stuck them together. Carefully he emptied the tobacco from the cigarette he’d removed from the packet of Peter Stuyvesant. He had started buying that particular brand because of a boy he’d fallen in love with.

 

“Will Aeriol be back?” Nate asked suddenly, which kind of broke the atmosphere a bit. Realising the effect of his words, he quickly added, “I didn’t mean...”

 

“Are you in love with him?” Max twisted the end of the joint, waving it about dramatically and tearing off the wad of paper at the end.

 

Nathan looked abashed and didn’t know how to recover so he remained silent. Max flicked the flame alight on his lighter, touched it to the end of the joint, and inhaled. The words hung in the air like the smoke. Drifting. He passed the joint to Nathan as the record finished and the click, click, click, of the needle filled the vacuum.

 

Max changed the record, taking the joint from Nate. The Doobie Brothers spoke for him. Sitting down again next to Nathan he leaned across moving his head close and kissed him ever so lightly on the Lips. On the far side of the room the door opened.

 

“Hi ya kids,” Aeriol entered with Jules in tow.

 

“Look who I found hanging around.”

 

The evening mellowed into night as all four of them got stoned listening to music. It was almost 1AM when sleeping arrangements needed to be sorted out. It was too late and to inhospitable out there for Nathan to go home.

 

Aeriol looked at Max and smiled. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. “Goodnight.” He got up and walked out, leaving Jules, Nathan and Max.

 

Nate wasn’t about to say anything. Jules on the other hand spoke up. “It’s alright if I stay here?”

 

“Sure,” Max replied. “Come on, Nate. You can sleep with me.”

 

Nathan got to his feet and followed Max out.

 

 

 

The only heating in the whole flat was the ancient gas fire in the front room. Max had bought a paraffin heater for his room. An extravagance, but the cheapest heating you could get, they couldn't pay the electric bill if they tried plugging in an electric heater, way to expensive. But it was immaterial, because he had no money for fuel, so the heater just stood there staring at them.

 

He stripped off his clothes and jumped under the covers. Nathan did a sort of double-take, which was very funny and Max burst out laughing.

 

“Get in here. Come on. It’s freezing.”

 

Nathan looked at Max lying under the covers on the floor. He hadn't expected to be sleeping on the floor, even if it was on a futon. He followed suit, undressing, but leaving his underpants on, and joined Max in bed.

 

“Can’t you light that thing?” Nate asked, as Max shifted up close to him.

 

“No, paraffin. I don’t have the dosh.”

 

Max started giggling as he squeezed himself against Nathan.

 

“What are you fucking doing,” Nate laughed.

 

“Getting warm.”

 

Max really was trying to warm things up under the covers and not the way that you might be thinking, but it was making the whole situation very funny. Laughing is infectious and Nate was giggling to, it was almost uncontrollable, but then they were both pretty stoned.

 

It was soon warm and they remained wrapped together. Of course two young men on top of each other also resulted in them each getting rather excited, it was, well, natural. Max turned around to face away from Nate, who spooned up to him, and in very little time rhythmic breathing and soft noises signalled they were both asleep.

 

 

 

Max looked at Nathan lying there, still sleeping, and smiled. He slipped on a t-shirt and pants, shivered, and looked at the condensation forming rivulets on the windows. Wiping the glass and peeking out he couldn’t see much, it was still dark, but getting slowly light. He grabbed a jumper from the pile of clothes on the chair and exited quietly into the hall. First things first, he needed to piss, then he tiptoed into the kitchen and flicked the light on. Found the kettle and filled it. He really could not start the day without a coffee. The caffeine hit would see him through the morning. He asked himself why the hell he was doing this and why the early shift in the warehouse. The money, he desperately needed to be earning. It did cross his mind that he should have thought it through better, before quitting the stupid management job, but never mind, it was too late now.

 

The kettle boiled and he took a mug from the cupboard and made a coffee for himself. Sitting alone in the freezing kitchen he squatted on the wooden chair with his knees up and his arms wrapped around them, both hands squeezing the heat from the mug of coffee. He sat there contemplating. It was Jules who interrupted his thoughts.

 

“Oh, hi. Sleep okay?” Max was making small talk. He never functioned well in the morning, and certainly not this early.

 

“It’s freezing,” Jules replied and switched the kettle back on while retrieving a mug from the cupboard.

 

“Is that why you’re up?”

 

Max wasn't really interested in what Jules was doing. He liked him well enough, but the guy didn’t seem to do much, other than hang out with them. If he worked, he never said. Now that he thought about it, he wondered why that never came up. Why hadn’t he even thought about it. The only thing he remembered about Jules was that he had been to a public school. Which means his parents were well-off.

 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jules waited for the kettle, then poured the boiling water into the mug, stirring the granules into a semblance of coffee.

 

“Why’s that?” Max asked to his back.

 

Jules turned around, cradled the steaming mug between his hands, just like Max. He leant back against the kitchen worktop. “I don’t know. Too much going on in my head.”

 

“About what?” Max was suddenly interested.

 

“My folks get back at the weekend.”

 

“And?”

 

“They don’t know I’m not at home. So I’ll have to go back there.”

 

“You never said where back there was?” Max glanced up from his coffee.

 

“Surrey,” Jules smiled, joining Max at the table.

 

“You’re a rich kid?”

 

“My parents are comfortable. So I guess you could say that. I don’t know if it really makes me a rich kid. I get a small allowance.”

 

“Don’t they expect you to work or something?”

 

“They expect me to be at university. But I’m not.”

 

Max laughed.

 

“And that’s the problem. I enrolled and everything. But I never actually ever got round to going.”

 

“And they don’t know?”

 

“They left for South Africa before term started.”

 

“How long? I mean it must be a few months?”

 

“Over a year. My dad got a fourteen month contract in Jo-berg.”

 

“Oh shit. And they get back this weekend?”

 

“I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe just pretend.”

 

“Pretend?”

 

“Yeah, say nothing. If I lose the allowance, I’m fucked.”

 

“No man, you’re not fucked. You just will have to get a fucking job. Speaking of which, I need to get dressed and get going.”

 

Max left Jules in the kitchen, and sneaked back into the bedroom. He tried to make as little noise as possible gathering up his clothes.

 

“What time is it?” A sleepy voice whispered in the dark.

 

“Too early,” Max replied. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“Where are you going?” Nate asked.

 

“I got the early shift. Work.”

 

“Oh.” The voice sounded disappointed.

 

Max found his clothes. Crossed the room, but before leaving, he knelt down next to Nate. Only his head and an unruly mop of hair stuck out from the covers. Max kissed him softly on the cheek.

 

“I’ll call you later,” he said. Then he left Nate lying in bed and closed the door behind him. He didn’t bother with a shower, just got dressed and brushed his teeth. Jules was still in the kitchen when he went to leave.

 

“Hope you work it out,” Max said, poking his head in through the door.

 

“You too,” Jules replied.

 

Max went down the stairs and out the front door into the frosty morning air. At least it was dry, but white crystals adorned the hedges and cars. You too, he wondered what Jules meant by that.