The Portrait of Gamophobia (2) Harvey Spector

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"This is Maxine Harris. Please leave your name and number and I will respond as soon as possible."

"Max, pick up the phone please," Mike said to the answering machine of his best friend/orphan-sister as he crossed the wet New York street, half-running, half-dodging cabs and black taxis, "I'm sorry, okay? Harvey and I got screwed in court and I lost track of time," he stumbled as he swerved around a biker, "and I know you're angry and you have every right to be but would you please answer. You're making me nervous."

He paused where he was at the corner.

"Call me back," the blond said as he hung up the phone, looking at the apartment building in front of him. He hadn't been to Max's place in a while, and when he gave up pounding on Harvey's front door, he realized that maybe she wasn't home, rather she was home home. Waving to the receptionist, while also praying he remembered him, he made his way to the elevator, waiting as he arrived onto Max's floor. Curving around the hallway, the elegant 221b stood against the door.

Sighing, his knuckles hit the door softly.

"Max," Mike spoke to the door, hoping there would be someone listening on the other side. "Please, just talk to me."

His forehead made contact with the door, "I'll start re-enacting Waiting for Godot."

As he turned his ear towards the door, he heard the slightest footsteps before the lock on the door unlatched. Grinning at his small victory, he looked up to the door swinging open, along with a very-angry Maxine Harris. Yet the anger didn't come from bailing, it came from a much more serious place.

Mike instantly knew something was seriously wrong.

"Max-"

"You little shit," she cut him off, "You absolute-"

Before Max could continue her attack on Mike, she nudged him to come inside, which he quickly made his way into her home.

Max shut the door harshly, turning the lock with force. She stood there, with her hand on the lock, trying to contain her emotions. Mike was nervous; Max was a type of angry he had never seen. It was as if she was fighting with herself, not knowing how to channel her anger properly. He watched as she took a deep breath, turning around and facing him with her arms crossed, bottom lip between her teeth.

"Say something," Mike pleaded.

"I don't know if I should kill you or Harvey."

Breathing a small sigh of relief, he continued.

"What did Harvey do with all this?" He asked, still curious, "Are you pissed at him too?"

"Oh hell yes," Max said, throwing her arms in the air, "Both of you are dumbasses."

"Max," Mike said, finally putting his foot down, "You were completely fine earlier today. I don't want to sound like a dick but this isn't the first time I've bailed on you-"

"I'm not pissed about the damn bar, Mike."

Now that threw Mike off.

"Then what…"

He never finished the sentence because he knew. He just knew by the way she looked. She was so angry, something he had never seen before, yet he had imagined. So angry, yet so disappointed. Worst of all, Max would be hurt, and being hurt would only intensify her anger. Mike knew exactly why Max was angry, because he remembered imagining how angry she would be.

Once she found out he never went to Harvard.

"I can explain."

"How do you explain something like that to someone?" Max paced around her apartment, "How do you tell someone a secret like that after so long? I've known you for over two years, Mike. I work with you; we consider each other best friends. Hell, we consider each other siblings!"