Page 9 of Something Like Hail

“You leak a lot?” Haroldasked.

“Depends on the situation.And how long it’s been.”

“Good. Plenty of guys willappreciate that. You can put your clothes on again.”

Noah scurried to dress, cheeks burning. He’dhave to get used to this. He wasn’t naïve. He understood that hewould be doing all sorts of depraved things. He just never expectedit to be with someone so hot.

“Okay,” Harold said, allbusiness now. “Here’s the deal. We’ve got a lot of ground to covertoday. We need to hit a clinic to have you tested. We’ll get yourhair cut too. A pedicure is probably a good idea. You own anyclothes better than what you’re wearing?”

“No,” headmitted.

Harold exhaled. “That might have to wait.I’ll take a quick shower, then we’ll get started.”

“Does this mean I’min?”

“Yeah, you’re in!” Haroldsaid, making it sound obvious. “Enjoy your coffee. I’ll be rightback.”

Noah sat on the couch, thinking purethoughts until his erection subsided. When he heard water runningfrom elsewhere in the house, he stood and strolled around theliving room, trying to learn more about Harold. The movies ondisplay didn’t tell him much, simply because he rarely had theluxury of seeing many, although in the winter he sometimes went tocheap afternoon matinees to escape the weather. Not often. Thatmoney was better spent on food.

He walked to the dining room and stoppeddead in his tracks. The table there was large and could have easilysat eight, if not for the model railway that filled the surface. Hemoved closer, looking for the train and feeling puzzled when hecouldn’t find one. The model didn’t even have tracks. Just littlebuildings, streets with cars, and people. Weird. He couldn’tinvestigate further because he heard the water shut off.

Noah rushed back to the couch, takingrepeated swigs of the coffee so it appeared like he had been seatedthere all this time. When Harold returned… Noah sighed. The guy hadbeen handsome enough straight out of bed. Freshly groomed andshowered? He was perfect. Maybe they should break out the ruleragain. He was pretty sure he could make it past the eight-inch marknow.

“You okay?” Harold asked,misinterpreting the strained expression.

“I’m just ready to go,”Noah answered truthfully enough.

“I like your enthusiasm,”Harold said approvingly. “Some people treat this job like an easyway to make money. You gotta be passionate to succeed. Let me grabmy shoes and I’m ready. Oh yeah, this is for you.” He held out asmall rectangular box.

Noah accepted it. The packaging was minimal,mostly white, but the words on the side had him stunned. “Aphone?”

Harold shrugged. “Marcello said you didn’thave one. I know they can be a pain, but you’ll need it to stay intouch with clients and get assignments.”

Noah shook his head. “Thank you, but I can’taccept this.”

Harold chuckled. “You’re strange. Ready togo?”

Soon they were in a car, cruising throughAustin. What a way to travel! Noah looked out the window as theywent, spotting sunbaked people lugging heavy backpacks thatprobably contained everything they owned. The person pushing ashopping cart down the sidewalk was definitely one of his kind.Noah felt like he was betraying them by being in a car, but thatwas his goal. All of this was a means of escape.

They arrived at a clinic, where Harold tookcare of all but the most basic paperwork. They didn’t need to wait.Noah heard him utter “Studio Maltese” like a password. This earnedthem instant attention. Noah was examined in a way much less eroticthan Harold had done earlier, his blood was drawn, and they movedon to the next location. And the next and the next, until Noahfound himself with a full belly, freshly trimmed hair, and feetthat were becoming as pretty as possible thanks to the woman whowas working on them. He played with the new phone, Harold walkinghim through the setup while getting his own pedicure in the nextchair over. Noah still wouldn’t let himself consider the phone hisown. He couldn’t afford either the base price or the monthlypayments to keep it active. Still, it was fun to finally get tomess with one.

“A guy could get used tothis,” Noah said gleefully.

“It’s not always days thisgood,” Harold replied. “Sometimes it’s even better.”

“And when it’snot?”

Harold laughed. “Yeah, sometimes it’s prettyfreaking gross.”

If they were alone he would have asked fordetails. Noah supposed he would find out eventually. The magicalname of “Studio Maltese” was uttered again when it came time topay. Shopping followed, which wasn’t so fun. They went from storeto store, Harold searching for something but unable to find it. Hedidn’t seem interested in Noah’s opinion either, being far toofocused on his own vision to converse much. When they visited astore specializing in Western wear, only then did he relax.

“Finally!” Harold declared,holding up a blue and white checkered shirt. He was even happierwhen discovering one with red squares. “What do youthink?”

“Those are ugly!” Noahreplied. He wasn’t worried about hurting Harold’s feelings becausehe clearly possessed a better fashion sense. The clothes he worewere stylish—American Eagle or something like that. Noah was out oftouch when it came to brands, but he knew what looked good, andthis wasn’t it. “Throw in a brown vest and I’ll be acowboy.”

“You’ll pull it off,”Harold said, his confidence unwavering. “And then other guys willpull these off of you. Ha ha!”

Noah laughed despite hating the clothes.Stupid hot guy, robbing him of his free will! Even worse was—whentrying on the hideous shirts—how he did his best to prove Haroldright. Noah didn’t step out of the dressing room with slumpedshoulders and a miserable expression. Instead he really tried tomake it work.