Free DirtyInterludes by Jodie Becker

fucking a starfish.
    Max cut through the meat as if he were on the set of The
Texas Chainsaw Massacre . Driving thoughts of Bridget from his head,
he served up and settled in a seat. They ate in silence. The eerie stillness
ended whatever joviality they’d managed to regain earlier. It brought to light
that he couldn’t have a Sunday roast on a whim like he used to. It had to be
planned to ensure that maybe, just maybe, Dylan and Ruby would come.
    “This is kind of weird.”
    “What?” Bryce asked around a piece of lamb.
    “Not having Dylan and Rube around.”
    “Could’ve invited some of the others?”
    Max shrugged. “I thought about it, but then Vane would’ve
caught wind of it. I haven’t wanted him around for a while. Not since he’s
turning into a grade-A dick.”
    “It’s because being nice never works for anyone.”
    “I don’t believe that for a second. When did he get all anal
about contracts and all that shit? If a person wants to leave then they
should.”
    “Sometimes it’s not that easy.”
    “Sure it is.”
    Bryce laughed bitterly. “Shows how much you know.”
    Bryce washed down his dinner with the rest of his beer then slid
the bottle on the table. He rubbed his hands along his jeans. His skin had
taken on a shade a tad paler than before.
    “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Bryce mumbled.
    Max’s stomach dropped. “Dude, I don’t want you doing shit in
my house.”
    “That’s kinda hard not to when I say I’m gonna take a dump.”
    “You know what I mean. Just ease off tonight okay?”
    Bryce scratched his cheek. “Whatever. Move.”
    Max hesitated, then shifted his chair and watched Bryce
march from the room, worry burning a hole in his chest. He hoped Bryce had
enough respect for his friendship to at least abstain while here, but if he
knew anything about addicts, they didn’t care whom they disrespected as long as
they got their hit. Max walked to the stairs and paused at the base. Should he
give his friend the benefit of the doubt?
    Three minutes passed, then five. Max hurried up the stairs,
the embers of fury threatening to burn to life. He’d asked Bryce not to. He
paused by the door and knocked.
    Silence followed.
    “Bryce?”
    “Go away.”
    Max leaned against the door, his hand on the doorknob.
Locked. “Open the door.”
    “Can’t a guy take a dump in peace? Fuck off.”
    Lips pinched, Max shouldered the door until the flimsy lock
gave in. He stumbled over the threshold, the bathmat making his footing
unsteady. Bryce sat between the bath and toilet, his elbow perched on the lid,
a hand pressed to the side of his face. One knee pressed into his chest and his
shoulders heaved. Holy shit. Discomfort and concern coiled inside and he
struggled to find which emotion to lead with. Misery written in weary lines
marked his friend’s face.
    “Nice going, Sherlock.” Bryce rubbed the heel of his palm
against his eye.
    “What?”
    Bryce cleared his throat. “Guess I did leave my balls
elsewhere tonight.”
    “Bryce. I’m your friend. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
    “You are.”
    Max recoiled.
    “With your knight-in-shining-armor get-up and your
nuclear-family bullshit. This is what we do and you fucking shit on it.”
    “I’m not shitting on it.”
    “What the hell is it when you make out like this is a poor
choice in life? Venus made her choices and should’ve followed through like the
rest of us.”
    Anger pounded through his temple. “And what, go into
self-destruct like you?”
    “Fuck you.”
    The sting of Max’s poorly thought-out words jolted him. Kid
gloves. He had to handle what Bryce was doing with kid gloves. “Look, man, I’m
concerned about your usage. You never used to get this twitchy. You’ve moved
beyond recreational to addiction and you need help.”
    Bryce pushed to his feet and pulled a clear plastic bag with
around a dozen pills inside. “You think I need this shit?”
    Bryce flipped the lid and threw it into the bowl