Page 18 of Calculated Chaos

A memory hits me as we sit quietly. Axel’s dad chewed him out about “being a man” when we were only sixteen and he started wearing eyeliner. It really fucked with him, because up to that point he didn’t know his dad had such strong opinions about gender roles. He still wore it at school, but carefully washed it off at my house before going home to his.

I squeeze his knee and he turns his face to me and smiles.

“You know that shit pisses me off,” he says.

“Yeah, I know.” I glance around for a second. “So you picked this place for me to feel comfortable?”

“Yeah, but I had another reason too. I want to support the cause. Break down some toxic masculinity, you know? If some men need bricks and iron to get there, so be it.”

Smiling, I bump his arm with mine. “You’re a good one, Ax.”

He flashes his dopey smile at me, bumping me back.

Chapter Ten

AXEL

“Axel and Hollister?”

I look at the man holding a clipboard near the front desk. “That’s us.”

He smiles, walking over to greet us. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt, black jeans, and black boots. He sports a thick black beard and plenty of tattoos. He looks far more like a motorcycle-riding tattoo artist than a spa attendant.

“I’m Tank. I’ll be working with you today.”

“I’m Axel.”

Hollister literally stares at the guy until he blinks himself out of it. “Uh, Hollister.”

“Cool names.”

“Thanks, Tank,” I tease.

Tank laughs. “Fair. Full name is Theodore, but come on. Can you imagine me as a Theodore? My folks had no vision, I tell ya.”

“You could be Theo,” Hollister says. “That’s a cool name.”

Tank tilts his head, shrugging like he’s never thought of it before. “Huh. Yeah, I guess it could be. You guys ready for an indulgence?”

“We are,” I answer.

“Awesome,” Tank says, clapping his hands together. “Follow me.”

He leads us through a doorway and we enter the actual spa. The walls are dark gray brick with images of scantily clad women draped over cars and motorcycles, or lounging by pools with skimpy bikinis on.

The farther down we go though, the art changes to buff men, various parts of their bodies highlighted for the images. Tank stops us toward the end, opening a door and gesturing for us to enter.

“This is your dressing room for the day,” he explains. “You can put your things in the locker and wear the provided robes. When you’re ready, flip this switch and I’ll come get you to start on your massage.”

“Thanks, man,” I say.

Tank nods and leaves. Hollister starts undressing right away. At least he’s comfortable with this, though I wonder about the touch factor. He doesn’t tend to like strangers touching him, but maybe since this one has a purpose, he’ll be cool with it. I can’t wait for mine. My neck is tighter than the jeans I wear.

Once we’re both undressed and wearing robes, our personal items locked away, I flip the switch. The door opens and Tank enters.

“We’re just going down the hall,” he says, gesturing for us to exit the room as he follows us.

“I noticed the art changes from women to men,” I say as we walk. “Why is that?”

---