Page 10

HARRY

It wasn’t until I curled up in bed that I realized I’d left Dean’s framed picture at Andy’s.

I kicked myself.

I’d already decided to place it on my nightstand.

Just the thought of his face by my bed, that scruffy blond hair, that million-dollar smile, those eyes watching me while I slept… God, I could feel my cock already getting hard.

I slept naked, and when I threw the sheets off, my thick, huge cock was already stretching its way up my hairy belly, seed already spilling from my slit.

Obviously, a job needed doing, but I was going to have to do it left-handed, since my right hand was cut and bandaged. It also still smelled of Dean’s signature fragrance after trying to clean up the smashed glass.

As I grabbed my meaty cock with my left hand, I raised my right hand to my face, pressing my palm against my nose and mouth and inhaling the heady cocktail of blood, antiseptic, and cologne.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I snorted into my hand, the words muffled.

I dry-jerked my cock hard, the foreskin sliding up and down, my fist squeezing and twisting and ready to wring every last drop of cum out of me.

I clenched my big ass cheeks and raised my hips.

I breathed in the scent of the cologne with a bestial growl, hungry for more.

I felt my stomach muscles knot and contort as I pumped my cock to the brink of orgasm before—

“Oh fuck! Dean!” I choked. “Oh, fuck yeah!”

Cum splashed over my hairy chest and heaving abs, sticky spools matting my fur.

I groaned with each surge.

Cum drenched me and I pulled my hand away from my mouth and nose, desperate for air.

Meanwhile, my other hand tightened its grip on the base of my cock, slapping the hard shaft against my gut to shake out the last surges of cum.

Then there I lay, flat on my back, buck naked and panting, wishing that if I couldn’t have Dean in my bed, at least I could have his photo beside me.

First thing the next morning I’d drop by and collect my gift.

But before that… I needed to buy Dean a new toothbrush.

* * *

I opened the door to Old Man Raven’s General Store and was instantly met with that familiar smell of dusty shelves, moose-leather moccasins and out-of-date rat poison. As the bell above the door dinged, Old Man Raven looked up from behind the counter where he was slotting packs of cigarettes into the empty spaces of a candy stand.

“Harry! Good to see you. How are you this fine morning?”

I stepped up to the counter. “I’m okay.” I pointed to the stand he was filling. “Should you be doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Placing the Marlboro next to the Snickers. Is that even legal?”

Old Man Raven shrugged. “I dunno. Why don’t you ask Sheriff Gates next time he drops in to pick up his candy and cigarettes. You want some?”

“Thanks, but I’m trying to watch my weight.”

Old Man Raven’s face lit up. “Good news for you, my friend. I’ve got a special on at the moment for anyone on a diet. Two candy bars for the price of one when you purchase any packet of cigarettes.”

“Is that supposed to help with dieting?”

“No, but it helps stop the urge to kill the next person you see just because you’re not allowed to have a donut. So, whaddaya say? I can practically hear the candy bars and cigarettes calling your name.”

“That’s great, but I don’t smoke.”

“Even better news, I’ve got a special on at the moment for non-smokers. Twenty percent off cigarettes with any candy bar purchase. No matter which way you spin it, it’s a win-win. Besides, we all know how hard it is to quit smoking. Go on, reward yourself.”

“I hate to tell you this, but I’ve never actually quit smoking because I never started smoking in the first place.”

Old Man Raven grabbed a pack of Marlboro off the stand, opened it, and offered me one. “It’s never too late to start.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Please tell me you don’t give this sales spiel to the kids who come in after school.”

He ignored my comment, put a cigarette between his lips, and lit up. “Your loss,” he said, sending a plume of smoke into the air. “So, if you don’t want smokes or sweets, what is it I can do for you today?”

“I’m after a toothbrush. It has to be electric. It has to be the fanciest, most expensive toothbrush you’ve got.”

“Fancy, you say?”

“Yep.”

“Expensive, you say?”

“Uh-huh.”

Old Man Raven grinned. “You’ve come to the right place. Follow me.”

We weaved through the maze-like shelves that cluttered the store, past the fishing tackle and the women’s lingerie and the canned hotdogs and the packets of sea monkeys with the corners eaten out of them that made me think the marine monkeys had somehow chewed their way to freedom, until we arrived at an aisle that could only be described as bathroom -hygiene -meets -mousetraps.

Old Man Raven wasted no time, plucking an electric toothbrush off the top shelf and blowing the dust off the packaging.

“This is the one you want,” he said, handing me the box. “Fully rechargeable, state-of-the-art technology with advanced swivel action delivering a deep clean guaranteed to remove one hundred percent of plaque and provide a pristine, floss-like clean.”

I was impressed. “Wow, you really do know your products.”

“It’s been sitting on the shelf for twenty years, I’ve had time to work on my pitch. I’ll even throw in half-price batteries.”

“It says here on the box that batteries are already included.”

“Then I’ll throw in this week’s moose moccasins special. Buy one moccasin, get the other one free.”

I was so keen to deliver Dean’s new toothbrush that I wasn’t even thinking about the math. “Sold!” I said.

Old Man Raven clapped his hands and rubbed them together, until a voice behind us said—

“Pardon me for butting in, but I’m not sure those moccasins are the bargain you think they are.”

Old Man Raven and I both turned to see—

“Madeline? Hi,” I said.

Apparently, Old Man Raven and I had been so wrapped up in his rather impressive toothbrush sales monologue, that we hadn’t even heard the ding of the bell above the door when Madeline entered.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” she said to Old Man Raven. “But I’m the new math teacher at the school, and well, I’m not sure your specials are quite so… special.”

Old Man Raven deadened his eyes and leveled his gaze at her. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, ah, this is Madeline,” I jumped in. “She’s new in town. Madeline Montgomery, meet Old Man Raven.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Madeline said cheerily, extending her hand.

Old Man Raven just huffed at her. “Math teachers. They spoil all the fun.” With that he returned to stacking the stands on the sales counter.

Over the top of the store shelves, Madeline watched him and quietly asked, “Is he putting Marlboros next to—”

“Don’t ask.”

“Is that even legal?”

“Don’t ask that either.”

Madeline took a deep breath. “Well, when in Rome I guess.”

“I’m not sure they wear moose moccasins in Rome.”

Madeline laughed that infectious laugh of hers and I couldn’t help but smile. She gestured to my still bandaged hand. “How’s that big old bear’s paw of yours this morning?”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged. “What are you doing here?”

“If you must know, I came looking for a gift for you … for your birthday.”

I shook my head. “You gave me flowers… which I left at Andy’s and need to rescue before they die. I’m hoping he at least put them in some water.”

“No, I mean, I wanted to buy you a proper gift. I bought the marigolden-girls in a hurry. Andy only told me at the last minute that it was your birthday.”

“Andy usually remembers after the last minute that it’s my birthday.”

“He forgets, huh?”

“Every year.” I shook my head and shrugged. “It honestly doesn’t bother me. I don’t really know what to do with all the attention anyway. And seriously, those flowers you got me were more than enough… if they’re still alive.”

Madeline laughed again and stepped a little closer. “Your modesty is sweet. Really it is. But I’m a giver, so you’re just going to have to allow me to buy you a proper gift. So long as this general store even has what I’m looking for.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen this place? Old Man Raven has everything you need and everything you don’t. There’s even a shelf of Mr. T breakfast cereal, although they’re probably nothing but boxes of sugary dust by now.”

Madeline giggled. “Lucky for you, a box of Mr. T cereal was not on your birthday present list.”

I was curious. “What exactly was?”

“Well, against Dean’s best advice, I was going to see if there was anywhere in town that sold Dean’s cologne. It smelled kinda… sexy. I thought you might like some, not to mention I’d be supporting sales for Dean’s fragrance line.”

I only registered half of what Madeline was saying because it suddenly dawned on me—“Oh my God, I broke Dean’s bottle of cologne and didn’t even offer to replace it. I am such an ass!”

“Oh Harry, it was an accident. I’m sure he doesn’t mind. It’s his cologne. I’m sure he has a thousand bottles of it back in LA.”

“But he doesn’t have any here.”

I weaved my way through the shelves back to the counter. “Mr. Raven, where are your colognes? Colognes for men.”

He raised one eyebrow. “The fancy ones?”

“Yes.”

“The expensive ones?”

“Absolutely.”

“Follow me. You’ve come to the right place.”

We passed the faded pinatas and the cans of lighter fluid and the jars of pickled herring and the bodice-ripping paperback novels from the seventies, to arrive at a shelf containing some dubiously labeled fragrances. Madeline caught up with us as he pulled a tester bottle off the shelf. “What exactly can I tempt you with? Perhaps the alluring scent of Animal Attraction by David Beckon.”

“I think you mean David Beckham, the soccer player,” Madeline said.

Old Man Raven shook his head. “Are you crazy? I can’t afford to stock his products. And if you ask me, it’s far inferior to Mr. Beckon’s fragrance anyway.” He squirted the tester in my direction.

“Ow! Fuck! My eyes! What is that, mace?”

“It’s strong, I admit. Perhaps you’d like something more subtle. What about Aqua - fish Man by Jason Momo?”

“Don’t you mean Jason Momoa?” Madeline said, before shooing her words away. “Ah, forget I asked.”

I flinched as Old Man Raven sprayed some fragrance at me once again. This time he missed my eyes, but one whiff was enough to make me pinch my nose in disgust. “Oh my God, it smells like dead fish.”

Old Man Raven sniffed the air then sniffed his own breath. “There’s every chance that could be the tuna sandwich I had for lunch. I never met a tin’s expiry date I didn’t trust.”

“Either way, would you mind putting the lid back on that bottle?”

“Suit yourself. What about this one? Extra Spicy Red Devil .” He squinted at the label. “Oh wait, that’s chili sauce.”

I held my hands up in surrender before he could anoint me in chili. “Thank you, but no. We’re actually looking for a certain brand of cologne. It’s called Dean .”

Old Man Raven scratched his chin. “Not sure we have any men’s fragrance called that, although I do have several of Dean Martin’s greatest hits records in the music section down the back. You’ll find it right next to the Hustler magazines. If you see Bo Harlow down there, tell him this ain’t a library! I swear I’ve been chasing that guy out of my store since he was twelve.”

“Bo’s twenty-eight.”

“And people wonder why I look so exhausted all the time.”

Madeline placed a hand on my forearm. “Harry, I’m not sure we’re going to find what we’re looking for here.”

“Judgy, judgy,” mumbled Old Man Raven with an indignant glance in her direction.

“It’s not that I think your store isn’t well -stocked,” Madeline told him, smiling sweetly. “And next time I’m in the mood for a pirate romance novel with Fabio on the cover I know exactly where to come. But until then, do you think you can tell us where we might find another store that specializes in men’s fragrances? One that doesn’t stock David Beckon or Jason Momo?”

He huffed indifferently like he wasn’t offended. “If you insist on taking your business elsewhere, you can always try Claudio’s Colognes in Eau Claire.”

With that, Old Man Raven went back to stacking his Marlboros and Snickers.

Madeline arched her eyebrows. “In the mood for a road trip?”

I shrugged. “Why not? My truck’s parked outside.”

* * *

I punched my way through the radio stations every time a romantic song came on.

Like Foreigner’s “ I Want to Know What Love Is. ”

“I love this song,” Madeline said.

I hit the dial.

Diana Ross and Lionel Ritchie’s “ Endless Love ” came on.

“Oh my God,” she swooned. “This movie made me cry!”

I hit the dial again.

We heard the catchy beat of a-ha’s “ Take On Me .”

“Oh yes!” Madeline said.

Oh no! I thought to myself and punched the dial again.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Linda Ronstadt and the Stone Poneys began singing “ Different Drum. ” I left the radio playing and quickly thought of a conversation filler to distract from my game of musical chairs on the radio.

“So, I haven’t even asked where you’re from. I mean, before you moved to Mulligan’s Mill. I’m sorry, that’s rude of me.”

“Don’t apologize. If I’m honest, I tend to avoid the topic unless people bring it up.”

“You don’t like to talk about it?”

“I can talk about it,” she said. “It’s just that I prefer not to. But since you asked, we might as well get it over and done with. I was married to a man whom I genuinely loved once. We lived in Ann Arbor in a house with a porch and a picket fence. He worked as the gym teacher at the same school where I taught math. For the most part, our marriage was pretty much perfect, until the day I received a text from one of the mothers at the school, telling me that my husband had just broken off a year-long affair with her. She was angry and hurt and felt the need to tell me all about my husband’s infidelities.”

“Oh God, that’s awful.”

“She said she thought I should know what was going on behind my back, but what she really wanted to do was destroy his perfect life… and in doing so, she destroyed mine. Only, it made me realize we didn’t have the perfect life at all. Our marriage was nowhere near perfect, only I was the last to know. That was over a year ago now. I left Ann Arbor and moved in with my sister in Cedar Rapids for a while to get back on my feet. By the time I was ready to face the world again—to trust anyone again—a teaching job came up here in Mulligan’s Mill and I snapped it up. And here I am… sitting in your truck… in search of a cologne that won’t attract seagulls… or blind you for life.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. “Wow, that story really does suck. No wonder it’s not your favorite topic of conversation.”

“I’m sorry. It sounds like such a tale of woe-is-me, which is why I hate explaining it. But I fully intend to change my destiny in Mulligan’s Mill. It’s time to take back control of my life, do the things that make me happy.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Poker nights. Long drives through the countryside. I might even find happiness in someone’s arms again, who knows?”

The song on the radio ended and it was back to the love songs.

This time it was “ Close to You ” by The Carpenters.

I decided to turn the radio off altogether.

* * *

Claudio twirled the end of his pencil-thin moustache. “ Dean ?” he said in an Italian accent so thick, I was convinced it was fake. “You mean the fragrance released by the singer, Dean Reeves?”

“That’s the one,” Madeline and I said at the same time.

“Follow me.” Claudio clicked his fingers, and we chased him as he strutted quickly across the floor of his store to a glass cabinet on the far wall. Between the Christian Dior and Calvin Klein displays, a backlit poster came into view. On it was an over-saturated, over-stylized image of Dean, shirtless and lying on the steps of a spiral staircase, clinging to the wrought iron balusters like they were prison bars. His expression was sultry, desperate, yearning—a look of unbridled passion that made me hard almost instantly.

I shifted my walk to accommodate it, trying not to let my bulge show as we stepped in front of the cabinet.

“This is the one you want?” Claudio asked.

“That’s him.” I nodded a little too emphatically, ogling the poster. “I mean, that’s the fragrance, yes.”

Claudio unlatched a set of keys from his belt like a jail warden, jangled his way through them and slotted one into the lock of the glass cabinet to retrieve the one and only bottle of Dean off the shelf beneath the poster. “You’re in luck, this is our last bottle.”

“We were actually after two bottles,” said Madeline. “One for him and one for me.”

Claudio gave her a quizzical look. “ You wear Dean ?”

“No,” she answered. “Although I don’t see why I couldn’t. I’ve smelt it and I rather like it. But no, it’s not for me. I want to buy a bottle to give to him for his birthday.”

She gestured to me and Claudio looked more confused. “Then why does he need a bottle if you’re already going to give him one.”

I quickly jumped into the conversation. “Because I need to replace a bottle that belonged to… someone else.” I wasn’t about to tell him that “someone” was the young hottie on the poster in front of us. “I broke it, and I need to replace it.”

“Well, as you can see, I only have the one bottle, so one of you will have to miss out.”

Madeline and I looked at each other. She inhaled and her shoulders rose in a shrug. “I suppose we could take all the sentiment out of it and treat it like a mathematical equation. If I buy the bottle and give it to you, you then have a bottle to replace the broken one. It’s not exactly teeming with tenderness, but it is the only logical thing to do.”

She was right, it did make sense.

“Then let me pay for it,” I said. “I’m the one who broke the bottle in the first place.”

Claudio looked from me to Madeline and back again. “Let me get this straight. You want to buy the bottle to give to her … so she can give it to you … so you can give it back to somebody else ?”

Madeline and I both nodded.

“Uh-huh.”

“Yep.”

With a wink, Madeline added, “And would you mind gift-wrapping that, please? A blue ribbon would be nice if you have one.”

Claudio rolled his eyes. Cologne bottle in hand, he strutted like an angry bird back to his counter.

* * *

On the way back to Mulligan’s Mill I asked Madeline, “Are you sure you don’t mind me regifting this to Dean?”

“Of course I’m sure. Besides, you paid for it.” She paused a moment. “You really like him, don’t you?”

I felt my stomach drop and in a strangled voice I asked, “What? Who?”

“Dean. You think the world of him, I can see it.”

“He’s a good kid. Andy’s my best friend.”

“I get it. You’ve known Dean all his life. You’re like an uncle to him.”

The word put my mind into a spin.

An uncle?

Is that what people thought?

Is that what Dean thought? That I was like an uncle - figure to him?

Oh God, what kind of weirdo was I?

* * *

I dropped Madeline at her home, and before she closed the passenger door of my truck she smiled. “I’m looking forward to Tuesday night.”

“Me too.” I tried to keep my voice even, enthusiastic. I wasn’t sure I pulled it off.

Driving from Madeline’s to Andy’s, my heart started to race. It amazed me that the giddy feeling in my head, the flutter in my belly, the tightening in my chest, had never truly diminished since that first day I realized I was utterly smitten with Dean; that day when he seemed to magically transform from my best friend’s kid into a smoldering, sexy-as-hell eighteen-year-old guy with a guitar. The thought of him threatened to turn my self-control into a total fucking trainwreck, the sight of him seemed to torch any shred of decency I had, the smell of him buckled the bars of the cage keeping the animal inside me captive. It literally took everything I had not to let myself slip into a complete disaster of a human being when I was around him.

“Keep it together,” I mumbled to myself as I pulled up in front of Andy’s place. “Just keep it the fuck together, would ya, Harry?”

I grabbed the cologne now wrapped in blue ribbon, as well as the toothbrush I’d bought from Old Man Raven before we left his store earlier.

I took a deep, deep breath, then stepped out of the truck.

As I made my way to the front door, Andy came around the side of the house carrying his paint-splattered A-frame ladder and a bucket full of rags and brushes.

“Harry, how are you doing? You okay?” he asked, plonking the bucket down and loading the ladder into the back of his truck. “You left in a hurry last night.”

“Sorry about that. Guess it was something I ate.”

“Yeah, those leftover pretzels did kinda taste like old boots. But hey, you don’t love me for my catering skills, right?” He gestured to the gift-wrapped cologne in my hand with a tilt of his head. “Say, what’s that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Something for Dean.”

“You bought Dean a gift?”

“Not exactly. It’s a replacement for the bottle of cologne I broke last night.”

“How is your hand today?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You sure? It looks a little shaky.”

Keep it together, Harry.

“I’m fine. I’ll just give this to Dean then I’ll be outta here.”

“He’s not here. Matter of fact, he went looking for you .”

“He did?” My heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

“You left your birthday gift here, along with the flowers from Madeline. He walked over to your place to give them back, about ten or so minutes ago. I offered to drive him on my way to a paint job at Mrs. Colvin’s house, but he said it was too nice a day not to walk. He’s probably knocking on your door right now.”

“Dean’s at my house?” I asked stupidly.

“Uh-huh.”

Dean’s at my house! was all I could think.

“I gotta go!” I said, and hurried back to my truck.