After Tony comes all over my shirt, the same one I hadn't wanted soiled with popcorn butter … he's incapable of keeping from giggling.
"Oops," he laughs.
"Wanker", I whine.
Out in the loo proper, we each pull off our shirts, as it turns out both were stained, run the bits under a warm tap, squeeze them out, and then hold them under adjacent hand dryers. We're kissy and giggling and chatting away like this is some normal, everyday scene ... when we're walked in on by the same pimply theatre attendant-boy.
How very questionable it must look. Two topless lads, each holding a shirt under a hand dryer… ? What the … ?
"Hi," I blurt stupidly, blushing like an arse, but the kid is rooted to the floor, dumbly staring, hand holding the door open, deciding if he maybe doesn't want to enter the loo after all.
"Not afraid of a coupla poofs, are ya ?" Tony cracks, adding a cheerful wink, and the kid promptly exits.
Tony bursts out laughing.
"You shit."
"Come on, it worked, didn't it ? We got the place to ourselves, again," he says, leaning over to give me a quick kiss, "I like being alone with you."
I laugh.
"Yes, it does have it's benefits, but, that'll be our last bit of loneliness for a while, which, really, is quite a good thing."
"Right," he smirks. "Only thing that'll stop us screwing."
Outside, we meander over to the dance supply shop, inside which Tony almost immediately attempts to try on a frilly pink tutu, managing to pull it part way up one leg before being stopped and scolded by the clerk.
"I was trying it out for my little sister," he lies. As if Effy of all people in this world, would dare be caught dead.
"Well, is she six ?" Snorts the clerk. "Because that's the largest size we carry."
"Okay, okay," he grins obnoxiously, "it's for me. I have this uncontrollable need these days for pretty, girly things-"
And with that, I shove him bodily down the aisle and out the door before returning to make red-faced apologies and a hasty purchase of a set of fiercely overpriced, but from what I'm told, apparently magical set of dance shoes, said to vastly lighten one's feet and improve one's 'glide'.
"Arsehole," I tell him outside. "Wanker. You love making ridiculous scenes."
He thinks a moment.
"Perhaps I'm meant to be an actor. A performer." He grins. "Meant for the stage."
"No," I tell him, shaking my head and reaching for his hand as we walk on. "The only thing you're meant for is fucking juvenile hall."
He turns his face and brings it close to mine, eyes twinkling away.
"I'm not the one who twice initiated public sex, you know. That'll get us thrown in jail more than trying on pink tutus."
"Yes, but that's entirely your fault."
"What ? The tutus, or the sex ?
"Both."
He laughs.
"Okay, but how is the sex my fault ? In both instances, I was the innocent party, the virgin, being mauled by a sex maniac."
"Yes, but that's only because of how bloody hot you are. So bloody, goddamn hot I can't see straight. Can't keep my libido in line."
"Right," he snorts.
"And by the way, I will tell you right now, nothing shrinks my willy faster than cross dressing."
He laughs out loud.
"Okay, so, you mean, no pink tutus or bras or girly knickers in the bedroom, then ? But that's half my suitcase ! I was planning on wearing it to bed tonite !"
"No," I tell him, squeezing his hand, "what you're wearing to bed tonite is a sexy little number called absolutely nothing."
Next, we hit the 'weird gay shop', as Tony referred to it, actually called Gaydar, which features all manner of gay-themed gifts, books and magazines (both 'normal' and porn), DVDs (ditto), jokey greeting cards, romantic greeting cards, pro gay political bumper stickers and buttons, (my favorite being the non?political "I LOVE BOYS"), as well as phallic and testicular shaped lolipops, cakes, and candies, and then, in the semi-hidden rear portion of the store, an assortment of brightly coloured dildos, remote controlled vibrators, faux fur handcuffs, as well as a rather frightening selection of whips, straps, paddles, canes, leather goods, and general sadomasochistic paraphernalia.
"What the fuck is all that for ?" Tony asks, aghast.
It is a bit embarrassing and uncomfortable for some reason, just being around this shit, but even moreso to think that Tony might be getting the idea that only queers are into such freakish perversions, but before I can disabuse him of this notion (having once encountered these same sort of items in a decidedly 'straight' joke/gift shop) ... a rather tall, very hot, blonde, 20-something store clerk appears.
"It's for deeper sexuality," the bloke says in quiet tones, smiling knowingly. "When you've moved on from vanilla, and need a little chocolate."
Tony reflects on this a moment.
"Oh … so like ..."
"Ya," nods the clerk, who much to my annoyance – I mean, christ ! - is openly, brazenly giving him the once over.
"Okay," Tony laughs nervously, not noticing. "Wow."
I glare with the evilest possible eye – does he not see me holding Tony's hand ? ? And move to pull us back into the main store. "Come on, Tone."
"No, wait," he says, looking at me quickly, before addressing the clerk. "I mean … what about, like, y'know ... in between … chocolate swirl, or whatever... ?"
To which the guy laughs.
"Chocolate swirl, okay," he says, all confident and superior and annoying, reaching promptly for the handcuffs. "This," he tells him, "swirly; delicious," … and with a wink in my direction, promptly leaves.
"Fucking slutty little know-it-all cunt," I mutter under my breath, watching him walk away. "Thinks he can cruise you right in front of me ! ? Probably blows half the customers to get sales …" I go on for another few vitriolic sentences before I notice Tony is taking no notice at all, is instead, preoccupied, transfixed by this thing in his hand ... turning it over, examining it, eyes semi-glazed.
"You know what ?" He finally manages to say. "I can see the possibilities."
I sigh. Yes of course the thought of a little kink-action is positively wicked … I just frankly don't want it done at the behest of, I don't want to encourage some cruise-y, part time sales clerk, or perhaps owner, by going ahead and buying anything from him.
I turn over the price tag.
"Forty five pounds ! ?" I shriek. "No," I say firmly, placing the item back on the rack and pulling Tony, who protests and reaches and points back behind us, through the store.
"Wait ! But Max ..."
We stop just outside the store's door.
"Firstly, the last way you're gonna get me on this is by calling me 'Max', understand ?"
"But ..."
"But what ?" I ask, crossing my arms, tapping my toe.
"But baby-"
"-Excellent. That is the correct term when one wants one's way, however in this case, as it happens, I'm afraid there is no way we're patronizing this establishment-"
"-But !" he says, pointing towards the door.
"What, some hot blonde pushing a set of wildly overpriced handcuffs has reduced you to monosyllables ?"
"Huh ? What hot blonde ?"
I stop. I smile huge.
"Never mind."
"But, Max-"
"Who ? ?" I say, holding my hand behind my ear in exaggerated fashion and leaning towards him.
He stops. He sighs.
"Come on, baby. It's my money. And what if I wanna try 'em ? It could be really hot."
"It is," I say, tickled at the change in his expression, from pouty/pleading, to confusion, to eye-widening shock.
"You've done that before ? ! Tied somebody up ? ?" He shrieks, so that I have to shush him and pull him further down the sidewalk. "How come you never told me ? !"
"Because ! I was embarrassed. It was a long time ago, and it only happened once, and we didn't use handcuffs. We … improvised."
"Improvised ?"
"We used like, two tied together gym socks, or something. Or," I reflect, "wait, no, it was his mother's panty hose."
"What ? !" he shouts, "Panty hose ? ! I thought you weren't into cross-dressing !"
I look quickly side to side.
"Will you shut up, please ? It wasn't cross-dressing, arsehole ! It was just using whatever was around that worked. We were in his parents bedroom, for fuck's sake, and he went rifling through drawers and that's what he came up with." I smile, and also flush at the memory. "It certainly worked."
"Okay !" He says, practically shouting, and pulling on my arm. "Nuff said ! Back to the hotel, then ! Perversion number two !"
"Tone," I say, laughing, stopping dead, "come on. We can try out shit later – whatever you want. We got shit to do. Seriously."
"What shit ? You got your ballet slippers-"
"They're not fucking ballet slippers !"
"Whatever !"
"Trinkets, Tone ! Royal Pavillion ! The casting place ! More rides. Postcards. Dinner. Beach." I move close, and whisper. "It really will be better if we wait." I kiss him quickly. "Promise."
His face softens.
"Fucking prick tease."
I smile.
"Come on, now. Be fair. I've done nothing to tease your prick just now."
He grins. He moves close. He whispers.
"You're such a hot piece of sexy fucking arse, such a filthy, sexy cocksucking little slut, you don't have to, do you ?"
As if he's deliberately plucked a string on a cello, my ears sort of twang-out on me at the sound of this, to the point where, as he continues, ("I can't fucking wait to fuck your dirty little slut of a whore-hole,") ... I actually back away, cover my ears, hum a random tune out loud, and shake my head side to side.
"No ! !" I tell him, laughing. "Stop it ! Not fair !"
He grins. He leans in and kisses me.
"I know. Fun as fuck, though."
Next up on the weekend agenda is Tony's rather odd choice, a place called Brighton Body Casting because he for some reason is intrigued by the idea of having his hands done, or perhaps his face, ("when one is as dead bloody handsome as me, one might as well immortalize it,") but inside, seeing as the main feature at the moment is an exhibit called the "Great Wall of Vaginas", Tony decides that what should be plastered instead, is my arse.
"Fuck off."
"I'm serious. Or maybe, my dick up your arse – they have home plaster kits, you know."
"Right," I snort, as we peruse the enormous, frighteningly detailed collection of female genitalia, which stretches on, at eye level, for at least ten metres. All of which is making this gayboy semi-nauseous. (People actually put their faces in there ? ?)
Suddenly it strikes me – does Tony find any of this arousing, or at least, familiar ?
"What do you think ?"
"Of what ?"
"All this pussy, tosser."
He shakes his head slowly.
"Fucking awful."
My head snaps.
"Awful ? In what way ?"
"Come on, Max. It's so fucking … clinical, being displayed on a wall like this. People's privates. I can't believe all these women agreed to this. If it was supposed to be appealing, or erotic or something, it's fucking well not."
I pick up a pamphlet about the display. "It says it's supposed to help them with their self esteem. 'An exploration of women's relationships with their genitals.'"
"Rubbish", he snorts.
"So … you feel absolutely no tuggings, no urge to maybe plunge yourself in there ?"
"Fuck, no."
I flush with the warmth that floods me, and lean up to kiss him.
"Good."
Outside, after having decided against getting any casting done, after all, due to the high cost and extensive wait time, we take a quick visit to the Royal Pavillion, which it turns out is closed on Sundays, then turn round to head back for some thrill-rides and trinkets/postcards, etc., when to my abject horror, heading straight for us, strolling happily along, hand in hand as they move up the sidewalk … are Sid and Michelle.
My god. My god. How could it be ? What kind of sick cunt is fate to have seen to it that something this twisted would have to occur ? That the two people Tony cared about most in the world, outside his family, each of whom cruelly abandoned him when disaster struck, and then had the unmitigated gall to couple up shortly thereafter, just had to choose this exact same weekend to visit Brighton, exact same sidewalk, exact same time ?
I yank on Tony's hand, determined to save him from this painful encounter, and jerk him towards the nearest store front and almost have him inside – I'm in fact, standing behind shoving him into the shop with both hands when he comes to a sudden screeching halt, head snapped to the side, mouth agape, from which there comes a singular breathless word: "fuck."
Suddenly he's moving towards them, and my gut plunges into my toes. Why god ? Why ? ? This is gonna be so ugly. And there's not a single thing I can do to bloody stop it.
"Well, well, what a surprise !" Tony says, smiling too hard, with too much of a spring in his step.
"Tony," Sid says, clearly taken aback. "Wow."
"Ya, 'wow'. You sound like that girl you used to fancy. What was her name ? Cassie ?"
Michelle fidgets – she seems incredibly uncomfortable and unnerved, barely managing to keep herself from moving round him on the sidewalk.
"You're looking well," is all she can muster.
"I am well," he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well-er than I've ever been, as it happens. Pretty much recovered from a teensy little accident I had. Almost died. You may have heard."
She gestures.
"Christ, don't do this okay ?"
"Do what ?"
"Don't play the bloody guilt card, pretending we weren't both there, in the hospital, for weeks afterwards."
Dear god, I think, please keep me from strangling her.
"Oh, no," he cries, "of course you were ! Nobody disputes that ! Stuck around plenty for what everyone agrees was the easy part. But you missed out on all the good stuff afterwards – the really fun stuff – just ask Maxxie, here - stumbling round unable to walk; babbling like a two year old for months on end, shitting trousers." He shrugs. "The small stuff."
Sid raises his voice.
"-Look, Tony, I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here-"
"-What I'm trying to accomplish ? ?" He shouts suddenly, causing me to jump slightly in place. "How about calling out the two people who were supposedly close to me, who supposedly loved me, but chose to run out the fucking door as soon as they bloody well could-"
Michelle snaps.
"-There was no 'supposedly' about it, tosser ! We loved you so much, it was unbearable, seeing you like that ! You have no idea ! And even if we weren't there in person, we followed your progress the whole way ! We still love you ! We still care about you !"
My blood is all but boiling that she would dare say such things ... such obvious lies … that I want to mangle them both, skin them both alive right here on the sidewalk for their inexcusable abandonment, but I'm determined to stand back and let Tony have his (very) long overdue say.
"Ya ?" He says, somehow maintaining his composure. "Is that so ? When is the last time I heard from you, from either of you, again ? Remind me."
The two fidget uncomfortably, having no rebuttal.
Tony takes a step back, so that's he's next to me. He inhales deeply … and there, plain as fucking day, grabs my hand.
Holy shit. I gulp, resisting the sudden urge to drop it, to protect him, and follow their line of sight as it lands on our joined hands.
He speaks. Calmly, for the first time.
"You have no idea what love is." He gestures with his head. "Maxxie does. In fact," he smiles, "we, he and I, are in love. For real." He laughs gently. "Like, madly."
Oh. My. God. My head is gonna implode from the tension. I may, in fact, vomit. I so hadn't wanted the announcement to happen like this – a hellish, challenging, in-your-face public confrontation. We stand there like stones, the air between us thick as can possibly be, before Michelle manages a dismissive smirk.
"Don't be an arsehole."
"You think I'm kidding ?" He turns to me, smiling with delight. "She thinks I'm kidding." He points. "They both do. Guess what ?" He says, eyes turned towards them as he raises his hands to my face ... "I'm not." … Before jerking my head upright, shit, my whole body, so much that my arms fly back behind me, for a kiss unlike any I've ever experienced – masterful, full throated, wet-lipped, moan-inducing, crazy, to the point where, when I'm he finally released, I'm swaying slightly on my feet.
To my horror, the faces we are then met with, are each trained directly on me. In them is hostility, disbelief, outrage, but mainly, out and out disgust, revulsion, even, as if I've been caught with a hard drive full of kiddie-porn, or fucking a goat, or both… in other words, all of the things I dreaded I'd see in people's faces. It just came a little earlier than I'd been prepared for ...
"Maxxie," Michelle says, practically shuddering. "I mean, what the fuck."
"Not Maxxie's doing," Tony snaps. "Don't you dare fucking blame him. This," he says, thrusting our joined hands towards them, "is all me. I wanted it."
"Rubbish," Sid snaps.
"Ya, Sid ? You gonna tell me how I feel ?"
"Tony, I've fucking known you since you were three. You've never had a single gay moment in your life !"
"That was before !" He roars. "Old Tony diddled every bloody girl in town, and you know what ? He was miserable ! That's what a near-death experiences does to ya, Sid ! Flips you upside down and shows you the truth !"
"Which is what ?" Sid shouts. "That you're somehow gay, now ? !" He points. "Just cuz he wants you to be ? !"
And with that, plain as day Tony decks him – a hard right to the jaw, causing Sid to stumble backwards and almost fall. Then it's to Michelle to leap to Sid's side, shouting and calling Tony a 'fucking animal' and then getting in his face and hitting and pushing him, so then I get into it, pushing her back, shouting and standing between the two until Sid finally screams at the top of his lungs to fucking stop it.
Chelle steps back, and silently takes Sid's hand.
Tony takes mine.
The four of us stand there for long, heart-attack level stress-filled moments, before Tony speaks.
"Okay, look, I'm sorry, Sid, but frankly, you deserved it. I'm not about to let you, or anybody else fucking question Maxxie's integrity, got it ?" He lifts our hands slightly. "This kid here pretty much saved my life. Nursed me back to health, never once let me quit. Aside from being the sweetest, most honest person on the planet, and the like, finest human being I've ever met, not to mention," he grins, he laughs, "the greatest fuck."
Oh god. A part of me wants to crawl into a hole over newly hardened, thoroughly disgusted eyes that have fallen on me.
Tony's hand tenses in mine. Before he can leap at them again – I can feel that he's just about to - the other part of me – the loving, angry, and proud part – speaks.
"You know what ? It doesn't fucking actually matter what you guys think. Only thing that matters is what we think; what we feel," I say, giving his hand a good squeeze. "Tony woke up, and at some point after, we fell in love; simple as that. There's no way I could have made that happen against his will. It's unbelievably insulting and sickening to me that you would think otherwise. Besides, are you nuts ? Look at him ! He's still the same ornery, obnoxious, opinionated bastard he always was ! Except, he's with me, now. So, you know what ? Beyond that, seeing as you both took yourselves out of the picture a long time ago, it's frankly none of your business."
The air is still thick between us but seems somewhat to have settled, as each side ponders the other.
Then something incredible happens. Michelle speaks, and I'm fully expecting her to be defensive, flippant, challenging, and she seems even to want to be, but instead, all that comes out is warmth.
"Do your parents know ?"
"No," I answer.
"Either of yours ?"
"No," Tony confirms. "But they're just about to. This is brand new. All came down this weekend."
"Oh," she says. "Wow."
"You guys are the first to hear it," I tell her.
Tony turns to Sid, who is rubbing his jaw.
"Sorry, mate."
"'S'okay," he says, "I was … I was out of line." He looks at me. "Sorry, Max. It's just – you have to understand. This is a pretty fucking huge. And despite how it may look, I still care about Tony, still worry about him, so I get a bit defensive."
Chelle clenches Sid's hand.
"We both do," she says.
Wow. I can't know how Tony's feeling, but the extreme tension, the anger and feelings of betrayal over the whole last year, seem to be dissipating.
"Well don't," Tony says sweetly. "I'm in damn good hands."
PS 1: There actually is a place in Brighton (UK) called Brighton Body Casting, which actually has an exhibit entitled "The Great Wall of Vaginas", featuring cast after cast of female genitalia (more specifically, the vulva, not the vagina, but then "The Great Wall of Vulvas" wouldn't exactly work.)
PS 2: The author had great fun trying to come up with filthy things Tony would say to Maxxie with the intent of curling his ears, my favorite this time being: "I can't fucking wait to fuck your dirty little slut of a whore-hole." That just fucking makes me laugh out loud.
PS 3: I had no idea when I began this chapter that the Sid/Michelle encounter would end sort of peacefully and maybe with a hint of forgiveness. That was not at all in the cards, but I sort of like it.