Page 27 of Naughty November

Now I was over it. They were all childish motherfuckers who couldn’t stop feeding the drama. Didn’t matter if they were in their late forties or early twenties.

Max and I didn’t belong here anymore.

I stood next to him as he started his speech.

“Some of you have asked why we haven’t sent out the membership invoices for this month, and it’s because there won’t be one,” he said.

I watched the confusion flit through.

“Wait, what?” Linda asked.

It dawned on George right away. “Fuck, are we closing?”

I folded my arms over my chest.Damn right.

Max inclined his head. “Yes,” he confirmed. “November is our lastmonth, and we’ll be using what’s left of the community funds to cover the expenses. We have no more events planned.”

“Oh my God, nooo,” Tina complained.

“But why?” Donnie pressed. He looked distraught. “Is this because of the drama on Discord?”

It wasn’t just there. They brought their catty fights to events.

Max slid me a look, and I wasn’t touching that one. He could talk. I could stand here and do nothing. He was better with words. I would end up telling everyone to go fuck themselves.

In my head, I was already on my way home. I’d call for pizza and ask Max to come over for dinner. He didn’t get Alex until Monday anyway, so he could chill with Dylan and me. Have a few beers and relax. I’d installed two heaters on the rooftop and everything.

Max cleared his throat, and he plastered that look on his face. The one I saw sometimes when I stopped by his practice for lunch and he’d just had a difficult patient in his chair.

“Listen,” he said, “Reid and I have done what we could for Old Town—and we’ve loved running this community for almost eleven years now, but…”

Yeah,but. But, good-fucking-bye.

It took no convincing to get Max to come over for pizza.

In my opinion, he should get a new place closer to me. He’d never liked his condo. He’d bought it because it was close to Alex’s school, but Max was an Old Town man like me. We wanted the old buildings, the homes that were filled with history and character, not some top-modern complex with a doorman.

I’d inherited my parents’ place six years ago, and as we reached the street, I felt myself relax. This was home. A street where brightly colored row houses shared the cobblestone sidewalks with trees and old gas lamps. My two-story colonial was the one in red with white shutters, crammed in between two three-stories in blue and green.

For a building inspector, I was awfully fond of creaky stairs and uneven lines.

The Christmas lights would go up soon.

“Fuck, my mouth is watering,” Max said. He was eyeing the pizza boxes in my grasp.

The lights were on in my kitchen, so Dylan must’ve arrived.

Shit felt good. Good riddance to the community. More time for chill evenings and weekends with my boy—whenever he came home—and hopefully Max and Alex. Hell, bring over Monica and Arianna too. I liked them. Alex’s moms were funny. Arianna, especially. She always beat me in poker.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Dylan!”

“Upstairs!”

Okay, good.

“I’ll get drinks,” Max said.

I nodded. Wasn’t our first rodeo. This was practically tradition.