The suds are in full flow at Arq, literally pouring out of the vents and onto the dancers below. Go-go boys are either dressed as lifeguards or in the skimpiest tight shorts with goggles and masks on their heads and nothing else but Michael isn't feeling it.
At all.
In fact, he's facing away from the suds and the studs with a look on his face that resembles thunder as he leans on the bar nursing a beer that's gone warm from the length of time he's been holding it.
Studs and Suds is his and Calum's night, a time honoured tradition honed to perfection over the last few years and without his right hand man, his wing man, his best friend, Michael is, although he would never admit it or even let himself think it for a second, missing and lost without him.
"Aren't you going to dive in, join the fun?" Sam asks over the music, watching the studs nearby play in the suds.
"I already took a bath but it you want to jump in I promise I won't look," Michael tells him sarcastically.
"You and everybody else," Sam replies ruefully.
"Hey you two wallflowers! Come on in! The suds are free!" Corey calls, blowing a handful of bubbles in Sam's direction which settle on his beer bottle. Scraping them off, he smiles and shakes his head at Corey who's gallivanting in the suds with a couple of studs wearing only a pair of swim trunks that are so tight they leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.
"That's pathetic!" Michael says, although even he is laughing a little at Corey's antics, the man's enthusiasm and utter gay abandon is infectious even to him and his present mood.
"I thought Studs and Suds was your favourite contest?" Sam asks.
"What? A bunch of fags sliding around in their shorts?" Michael mocks.
"You seemed to enjoy yourself when Calum was here," Sam comments. The truth is that he's missing Calum too. But he can't deny that the difference between Michael's demeanour last year to this is palpable, one year bears no resemblance to the next, and he can't help but take an evil pleasure in baiting him, "But I guess it's not as much fun scoring with only an audience of one now is it?"
Sam's been watching Michael and Calum's relationship for years and although unable to stop it, or to influence either of them, it doesn't stop him being bitter about it. Maybe if Michael hadn't had such a hold on his best friend Sam may have got a look in with Calum. As it is, Sam's feeling is that at least Calum has gone away for this year's contest, even if it isn't with him.
As Michael looks disbelievingly at him, Sam can't help but deliver a final blow. "You know as a famous French philosopher once said, "It is not enough to trick, your best friend must also go home alone."
"Fuck you!" Michael says angrily, suddenly getting up and deciding to go. "For your information I haven't thought about Calum once tonight."
"Well, what do you know? That's just like when he's here!" Sam shouts after him as a parting shot.
~~~
"Hey remember me?" The voice belongs to a person that Michael doesn't recognise.
"Why? Should I?" Michael answers curtly taking a quick sideways glance at the guy. He's in no mood for anyone right now, and carries on walking to his car, ignoring the seemingly drunk or maybe high guy who seems intent on following him away from the club.
"We hooked up at Basque a couple of weeks ago."
Michael sighs, looking the guy up and down with a frown on his face, "I must have been very desperate."
"Fuck you!" The guy retorts, walking up to Michael's Jeep as he gets in and shuts the door, turning the engine on.
Staring in at his window, the guy doesn't seem to want to leave him alone. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" He yells, spit gathering at the side of his mouth in his fury.
"Fuck you!" The guys repeats, raging and banging on Michael's door with his fist as he speeds off out of the parking space. "FUCK YOU!!!"
~~~
Michael pulls up at the traffic lights on red at the intersection a couple of kilometres down the road, taking the opportunity to change the music channel as he waits. He's fiddling with the radio when his hand flies upwards. The back of his hand hits the dashboard hard and painfully as Michael's body is propelled forwards, rapidly following the same trajectory. His head flies forward and both his forehead and nose hit the steering wheel, drawing blood that drips heavily down his face before he even realises with complete shock that someone must have rammed him from behind.
The bright headlights from their car shine in, dazzling a very dazed Michael through both his rearview and side mirrors. They must have their full beam on because Michael can't see a thing except bright yellowish lights that slightly recede in strength as they back up away from his Jeep.
He's in a very uncomfortable position Michael realises after rapid couple of breaths. He must have slid slightly under the seat belt with the impact, making him feel as if he's slumped down in his seat and he wriggles a little, groaning with each movement, to readjust and free himself, realising with a wince that nearly every part of him hurts.
He manages to manoeuvre his foot out from under the accelerator pedal before he hears a strange noise that Michael can't quite decipher but then realises it's the same car revving its engine. It dawns on him that the motherfucker's going to hit him again and he yells at the car coming towards him at speed out of sheer panic, "What are you doing you crazy fuck?!"
As soon as the words are out of his mouth Michael's vehicle is struck hard on the drivers side, ramming his door and shunting the car into the middle of the quiet intersection, swinging it around on its damaged wheels and axel.
The car speeds off into the night, leaving Michael alone, injured and bleeding profusely.
YOU ARE READING
Queer as Muke
Fanfiction"The thing you need to know is, it's all about sex. It's true. In fact they say men think about sex every twenty-eight seconds. Of course that's straight men. With gay men it's every nine." Twenty nine year old advertising executive Michael Cliffor...
