Best Gay Romance 2013 by Richard Labonte Page A

lone wolf if the snippets and sound bites Lyle had collected turned out to be true. Wasn’t married, but most likely kept at least one if not a bunch of lady friends at the ready, because he was a man and men had needs.
    Lyle understood a man’s needs better than he gave himself credit for.
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    That afternoon, about an hour before the jarring buzzer would sound, releasing them all from what sometimes felt like modern-day slavery, Lyle spotted Mike standing alone on the loading dock, leaning against the wall, one giant foot crossed over the other. He was staring off into space, his blue eyes—bluer than even the sky—oblivious to Lyle’s presence.
    The knot in Lyle’s stomach pulled tighter. He wanted to march over, to ask Mike how he was doing, was everything all right between them, any chance he could explain his side of what Kevin had turned into the biggest scandal to hit State Street Warehouse since the previous year’s Christmas party, which was still spoken about occasionally during lunch breaks by the other knuckle draggers. But his sneakers wouldn’t obey his heart, and he kept right on walking.
    The next day, Mike didn’t show up for work. Nor did he the
day after that. By Friday, Lyle was feeling isolated and shunned by the rest of the warehouse. The last of his kind.
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    â€œHey, Kevin,” Lyle said.
    The other man took a step back, coughed to clear his throat, and said, “Not so close. I don’t want to get what you have. What up, homo?”
    Lyle gaped, “ ’Scuse me?”
    â€œHomes. What up, homes ?”
    Lyle let it slide. The under-the-breath comments, snickers, and stares had gotten too obvious to blame on simple paranoia. Lyle didn’t eat lunch with the rest of the warehouse workers any more, and rarely spoke to any of them, except on an as-needed basis. Even approaching Kevin to ask about Mike had taken more effort than not allowing his gaze to linger too long on his hunky supervisor, before Mike had gone missing.
    â€œHave to ask you something.”
    â€œWhat about—sports? Pussy?”
    Lyle ignored the snark. “Mike—where the hell is Mike?”
    â€œBig Mike?” Kevin parroted. “He didn’t tell you?” Lyle shrugged. “Hate to be the one to break the news, seeing as how much guys like you love another man’s balls. Mike had to have one of his lopped off. Cancer, dude. Bet that ruins your day almost as much as his.”
    Kevin walked away, leaving Lyle frozen where he stood. From the corner of his eye, Lyle saw the other man yank the leg of his loose-fit shorts up. He turned in time to see Kevin’s balls spill into the open. Kevin wagged his hairy sac at him, chuckled, and continued on his way.
    The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Lyle felt numb, going through the motions, only partially aware of time and space. The few times he tried to press his coworkers for more
information, he was met with apathy and condescension. Mike’s boss told Lyle he couldn’t discuss the situation due to medical privacy laws.
    With no other option, Lyle consulted a reliable fallback: the telephone book in the junk drawer in his kitchen.
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    Heart galloping, he approached the apartment block’s front door. The building was an ugly, square, brick throwback to the 1970s with zero personality. The kind of place that unleashed a feeling of despair in Lyle whenever he saw one, a place where hopelessness was a tenant. Not fitting for the caliber of a man like Mike.
    For days, Lyle had picked up the phone only to hang it up again before dialing past the first few numbers. Driving to the place, parking his truck with its bear-paw bumper sticker in the spot right next to Mike’s rugged SUV, Lyle felt like a stalker. He almost backed out and drove away, but killed the ignition and pocketed the keys before he chickened out.
    There was no denying the fact that Lyle was attracted to Mike. That