Chapter 2

As expected, the room was muggy and uncomfortable. He decided to take a shower in the floor’s community bathroom, hoping that he might run into another visitor to the establishment for a little conversation. No such luck. The place was a morgue, all the residents probably out at restaurants for their evening meal, or even starting early at the bars

Dean tried to make himself look as presentable as possible in the warm room before he went out for the evening. As he headed out into the street, it was still quite warm, but it was better than the small room with only one window. He decided to have a sub, sitting outside while he ate, watching the people pass by on the street.

And it was beginning: the nightly transformation. A number of straight tourists still gazed at the merchandise in the jewelry shops and art galleries. A few straggled back to their rooms from their way too big evening meals with too many cocktails. But they were outnumbered now by the groups of men—many of whom looked more like boys—populating the street.

Dean finished his impromptu meal and decided to look in the last few open galleries before deciding which bar to visit first. Stepping into the first one, he immediately recognized the artist. He was Canadian, and Dean had one of his works hanging on his living room wall. “I know this artist,” he said to the owner. “I have one of his works at home. He’s from Toronto. Does he summer here in Provincetown?”

“He was just here for an opening last week, before heading back to Canada,” the owner replied.

“That’s too bad,” said Dean. “I love his work, and I would have liked to have met him.”

So much for timing. He hoped he would meet some other artist, or sculptor, or writer, or whoever, before the night was out. Just, please, not some bs artist.

The first bar had a drag queen entertaining the patrons, her acid tongue unmerciful in her take on several politicians and celebrities. The crowd loved her, but Dean scanned the room for interesting prospects for the evening. And he found nothing. The men, mostly very young, all seemed to be in groups, and no one seemed open to talking to anyone else.

He moved on to another bar. This one was more crowded, perhaps because it was a little later in the evening. Dean looked around once more, and this time found several interesting prospects. There were several large groups once again, but there were also a lot of guys that seemed to be here alone and didn’t seem to be talking to anyone. He looked around and decided to start with a guy playing solitaire on a video game at the bar.

He walked up to the guy, and opened his mouth to say something, but the guy didn’t even look up. It was almost as if he didn’t even know Dean was there.

“Pretty good crowd in here tonight, huh?” said Dean, hoping to get the guy’s attention. Nothing. He cleared his throat, upping the volume a notch. “The place is pretty crowded, isn’t it?” he said.

The guy looked up from his deep concentration on his game. “Oh, yeah,” he said, looking around the room quickly, “I guess it is.” And he went right back to his game.

Dean thought of asking him if he had come to the bar to meet people or play that stupid game. But he already knew the answer. He looked around the room to see who else might be interested in talking.

And it turned out that no one was. They were all into their games, their drinks, maybe they had a boyfriend, or maybe they were just into themselves. But none of them seemed to be interested in meeting anyone.

Disgusted, Dean walked back to his room. Grabbing a slice of pizza at the parlor next to his B&B, he again found that the customers were mostly large groups of very young men. As Dean finished his pizza and prepared to return to his room, one of them broke off from the group he was with and sidled up to him.

“You’re very attractive, very masculine,” he said, slurring his words slightly. Ignoring the obvious fact that he had been drinking, Dean looked him over for signs that he had even started shaving. He must be, what, twenty-two, twenty-three? And drunk. Maybe he wasn’t even of legal age. And Dean simply couldn’t imagine what the young man found attractive about him, unless he was looking for a sugar daddy. And that certainly wasn’t him on this bargain vacation. He wasn’t about to buy this guy beers, cigarettes, dinner, or anything else. Sure, he could take him back to his room and have his way with him, but he just wasn’t into guys this young. The guy was drunk, and he would probably just get sick somewhere halfway through the encounter. No, thanks. Not worth the trouble.