Interlude 2
R ye’s curled up next to Lowell on the sofa, tucked into the curve of his body, feeling warm under the weight of his big, strong arm.
He’s scrolling social media when a notification pops up that an Instagram account he’s following has posted a new Reel.
A glance shows that it’s Dan, and the caption of the video has him sitting up instantly.
“Oh, no,” he whispers, horror lacing through the frustrating, high-pitched giggle that escapes him. “Oh, Dan , no.”
“What now?” Lowell asks.
Rye turns up the volume and holds his phone so Lowell can see.
“Hi, my name’s Dan McBride, and I fell off El Capitan while free soloing and survived to tell the tale.”
Over the last few videos, this has become Dan’s go-to opening line. He’s sitting on the sofa in Peggy Jo’s living room, and he waves a little robotically, like he thinks it’s expected of him and not because he really means it.
“Anyway, my boyfriend’s working all day again, and I’m bored as S-H-I-T.” He waggles a finger at the camera, a gleam coming into his eye. The robotic vibe drops away. “Ah-ah-ah, you think you’ll catch me saying naughty words again, algorithm? You think you’ll shadow ban me or worse? Think again .”
He raises a brow like a cartoon villain. Muggs leaps into view, crossing the back of the couch to perch behind Dan’s shoulder, staring balefully into the camera. Dan ignores him.
“Anyway, I saw there’s a popular trend called Get Ready With Me and, since I’m bored to near insanity, I thought why the heck not.”
He grins, and it’s piratical and cute, and also scary as hell because who knows what Dan’s about to say or do next. Rye clenches Lowell’s arm.
“Get Ready With Me?” Lowell repeats.
Rye touches the screen to stop the video and explains.
“It a trend where folks film themselves getting ready to go out somewhere. Get Ready With Me to go to work. Get Ready With Me to go to the club. They usually tell an interesting story while they do it or maybe explain the products they’re using. ”
“Ah, okay.”
Rye lets the video roll again.
“What am I getting ready for, you may ask, given that I’m stuck at home, alone, with a broken leg? I’m getting ready to watch some raw doggin’, slick and sloppy, fingerlicking-good corn. ” He slaps his hands together rhythmically making an obnoxiously sexual sound with his palms.
“Oh, Lord.”
“Watch corn?” Lowell murmurs, confused.
“Slang for ‘porn.’ Algorithms have been trained to block anything with certain words in it, like porn or dick or ass, and so people use other words or emojis instead. Like corn, or eggplant, or, I don’t know, peaches.”
“Peaches…” Lowell sounds mystified.
How strange it must be to be basically old and not know anything about how this new world works. How strange that Rye’s currently bossing around and screwing a man who’s nearing forty-six. How strange indeed…
The video plays on.
“So…” Dan pauses dramatically, and then raises an arm to show what he’s holding.
“Here are the sweatpants I’m going to be wearing today.
They’re Fruit of the Loom brand. Soft. Blue.
Boring.” He shows the tag. “Where did the cornucopia go? We all know it was there. Is it a worldwide, brainwashing conspiracy? Or proof of the Matrix? And what about the Berenstein Bears? Stain, my ass.” He huffs.
“Wow.”
“What’s he talking about?” Lowell asks.
“I’ll tell you later.”
Dan shows the entirety of the piece of clothing in his hand. “We had to cut off one leg to make room for my moonboot. So, it’s a sweat- pant .” He laughs at his own joke, and Rye feels a smile pull on his lips too.
Dan is such a dork. It’s sweet really.
On video, Dan wriggles into the sweat-pant, managing to show nothing scandalous as he does so.
He pats around behind the camera on what Rye knows is the coffee table in front of him where, undoubtedly, he has the phone set up to record.
“Here are my tissues. Kleenex brand for me. Lubricated with aloe.” He holds the box by his head.
“Hit me up for a sponsorship, Kleenex. My d-i-c-k and I are faithful users of your product.”
Lowell grunts a low laugh.
“Here’s my lube.” He holds up a small white bottle with strawberries on it.
“It’s Wet brand, as you can see. Again, I’m open for sponsorship.
This one’s strawberry flavored. I’m using it to jerk my junk because Sejin prefers the unscented and tasteless kind during s-e-x, so I gotta find a way to use this one up.
” He pours some on his finger. Licks it.
“Mm, just like candy. If candy tasted terrible,” Dan finishes.
Lowell snorts.
“This is the remote control I use. Nothing special. Essential for scrolling through the internet corn offerings. Let me tell you, the TV that my climbing mentor and pseudo-mom has screwed into her wall? It’s enormous.
It makes all the body parts look beyond life-size.
By the way, hi, Peggy Jo, if you’re watching.
I bet she’s not, though. She’s way too old for social media. ”
Rye sputters. Lowell laughs again, warm and low.
“So, let’s see…” Dan aims and clicks at the TV.
“One of the better things about being bi is I have a lot of choice when it comes to corn. I’ll take men on men, women on women, women on men, men on women.
There’s no combination that’s a deal breaker.
Given how many hours I’ve spent doing this since I broke my leg, it’s a good thing I’m not picky. ”
He frowns and then his face lights up. “Ah, this one looks perfect. Two girls and a guy. Neither of the girls have wickedly long fingernails or belly rings. A real needle in the haystack.” He looks down.
“The only other thing I need is attached to my body. So…we did it, guys. You got ready with me. Hope you enjoyed this brief look into the daily life of a world-class athlete with a broken leg. Tomorrow, I’ll update you about all the recent climbing I’ve done. Spoiler alert: None.”
“Oh, wow,” Rye says, watching as the likes and comments gather at increasing speed. “This is taking off.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know?”
Rye opens the comment section and points at the first one, which already has over forty likes on it too.
if you’re boyfriend’s busy i could come over
A reply from Dan immediately appears beneath it. It’s ‘your boyfriend,’ and no.
Another comment reads step on me with your moonboot, daddy
Dan’s reply is to the point. No.
A homophobe offers You fell because God hates queers. Repent or burn.
Dan says Thanks for worrying about me.
“How’s he actually kind of good at this?” Rye says, dumbfounded. He reads a few more excessively thirsty comments and clucks his tongue. “Though Sejin’s going to wring his neck with this one.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Lowell says, showing Rye where he’s opened Dan’s GoFundMe page on his own phone. “It’s gone up $400 in the last four minutes alone.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
Rye clucks his tongue, mystified. “Maybe this asshole’s onto something after all.”
Lowell leans back and slings his arm along the top of the sofa. “One thing I’ve learned over the last few years is to never count Dan McBride out. He’ll surprise you every time.”
Rye puts his phone aside and drapes himself over Lowell’s thighs. “Want me to count you in?”
“Sure.” Lowell swallows hard. “I mean yes, sir.”
Rye lets each word linger as he whispers, “1…2…3…let’s go.”
Lowell shudders, and Rye smirks, taking hold of Lowell’s chin and kissing his mouth. Lowell jerks and then relaxes, moaning as heat rises between them.
Rye grins and thinks of poor Dan all alone on the sofa with his favorite Kleenex.
Taking Lowell apart is so much better than watching corn.