Helping Max

HELPING MAX

NOTE: This is a work of fiction entirely imagined by the author. Although the names of the locations referenced in this story exist, the businesses, the people and the events are pure fiction.

© Copyright whitebeard50, 2023 - All rights reserved

Toronto, mid-April

I tried to find Rosa's phone number, who lives in Montréal, for a long time. Rosa was my best friend when we were in high school in a small town north of Toronto. I broke her heart when I told her that I couldn't be her boyfriend because I was gay. She was very angry. She thought that a big brute like me couldn't be gay, that it was impossible. She said it was an excuse because I didn't like her. It broke my heart too, big time. She was my best friend, my only friend. She never talked to me again. Eventually, a year or two later, I don't remember exactly, her parents moved to Montréal. They were scientists of some kind and they were offered a job over there. I haven't heard from her since.

A couple of weeks after that disastrous sort of breakup, I decided to tell my dad that I was gay. He went ballistic. I shoulda known. He never talked about such things as sex. He hated everything to do with "them", the immigrants, stealing our jobs and worse than that was his hatred of anything having to do with Québec. He screamed at me and hit me square on the jaw and nearly broke it. Then he told me to leave. He didn't want any sissy faggot living under his roof. I was 16 y/o. I left with my backpack filled with little possessions I had and left scared out of my wits and crying. I had no friends to go to. At school, everyone avoided me after what happened with Rosa. Thankfully, I was a big boy, already hairy all over, so nobody dared try and intimidate me. They were intimidated by me. But I was alone, all the time. Life has been quite rough since that, but I never sold my body, nor used any drugs or alcohol. I worked hard at any job I could find. I finally found a job in a restaurant downtown Toronto where a big brawny man took me under his wing and showed me the ins and outs of the job. He never touched me. He liked me, a lot, but never touched me. I was a minor, he protected me. He was the only good person I had met in my life at that point. Fortunately, I'm big, very masculine, deep voice so nobody harasses me. One day, the old man was too sick to continue, so he retired and closed the restaurant. Life was harsh after that. I went from one job to another doing all kinds of jobs. The job I had before this damn job I have now was really good. I worked for a cabinetmaker, and it turns out I was very good at it. Five very good years. The old guy never pressured me, but I had sex with him. He was alone and lonely, so I indulged him. But, again, the business closed down. The old guy retired. He gave me a good severance pay which I still have. That's my last resort money. He was the second good man I met in my life. Now, at 37 y/o after years of hardships and cheap jobs, I work in that cheap, dirty diner with a bunch of useless assholes.

Suddenly, here I am with Rosa's phone number that an old friend of hers had. I met her by pure coincidence at a Walmart store. She told me that Rosa never married. I was her only love, the love of her life and she wouldn't have any other man in her life. She now owned a restaurant in Old Montreal. I kept control of my emotions when she told me all of this, but when I got home after work, late last night, I cried like I never cried in my life. I felt so bad. I love her, but not that way.

Well, big guy, it's time to call her, because I can't go on here anymore. I get a lot of small change at the convenience store near my little run-down apartment and I'm ready to call her. Christ, I'm a nervous wreck. I enter the dilapidated Bell's phone booth, put a bunch of change in it and dial the number that'll change the rest of my life.

"Hi! Is this Rosa?" Christ, I sound like a wimp.

There's no response, but I can hear her breathing, so I wait.

"Oh, my god! Max."

"Euh! Yeah, Rosa. It's me". I can't say another word. But I must say I'm surprised that she recognizes me.

"Oh, Max, I'm so glad to hear from you. I saw on Olivia's Facebook page that she met you at a Walmart store in Toronto. She said that she gave you my phone number. She thought I was going to be angry. Oh, but I'm so glad that you called. I was expecting it. How are you, Max?"

"Euh!... It's nice to hear your voice, Rosa. Umm, I have a big favour to ask you. Do you think that you know someone who's looking for a cook or perhaps a cabinetmaker?"

"Cabinetmaker?" she says.

"Yeah, I learned the trade with an old fellow I worked for."

"Max, I do have a job here in my restaurant. You couldn't I've called at a better time. I need a cook, I have a restaurant in Old Montreal. Come, I'll hire you. No, I'm hiring you right now."

"No kidding," I said. Amazed, because we parted on really bad terms. But that's what I'm calling her for, a job.

"Of course, I'm serious. I really do need a cook. The sooner the better. I know, Max, I was rude, cruel even, when you told me that you were gay. It was awful, to say the least. Now it's time to make good my error. I should have been supportive of you. I'm so sorry..." then she started to cry.

"Hey! It was a long time ago, Rosa. I love you, always did, but you know... I'll be glad to take that job, I'm quite good at it too. I'll be on the first bus to Montreal tomorrow morning."

"Sorry, I get a bit emotional when it comes to you. I love you too, in a different way now. I'm so glad you called. You have something to write down my address."

"Umm, yes, just a moment. Christ, I'm all thumbs. OK, got it."

***

The bus ride is long and dull, over 6 hours, but the seat is comfortable. I know that Montréal is on an island. That's the extent of it. Never been to Québec, or anywhere else for that matter. Oh! I know they speak French there, of course. Here we are crossing a long bridge and there's this large river extending on both sides. It looks like they're doing some work on the bridge because there are only one lane in each direction and a lot of those construction cones. Na! It's not a river. Apparently, it's a lake according to this map. I see a big river from the north, the lake and the St-Lawrence River.

Oh! That's the island of Montréal, so we should be close. But after an eternity, I look at my watch. Hey, it's been more than 30 minutes since we got on that island. Christ, how big is it? Damn, traffic. Mid-afternoon, this is crazy. Boy, those cone things are everywhere here. After a little while longer, 20 minutes or so, christ, I hope this is the bus station. Finally, the bus enters a building and parks in one of the reserved spots specifically build for the bus. Small, but nice. Damn, it's clean and bright. I look around, spot where the men's restroom is and go for a pee. There's a convenience store just next to the restrooms where I buy a chocolate bar. Christ, it's expensive. OK, now let's find out where she lives. I spot the information desk in the center of the station. As I approach the kiosk, I get my little piece of paper with Rosa's address and phone number out of my jacket pocket.

A young woman is sitting inside some kind of booth and is watching a big man walking directly towards her. He is dressed in faded and well-worn blue jeans, a brown leather jacket, open on a green and black flannel shirt and regular worker's boots. No baggage. Strong build and nice crotch... She blushes at the thought. Rough looking unshaven, though. There are a lot of men these days looking like him and thinking that it's sexy, it's so gross, she thinks.

"Bonjour miss, can you tell me how to get to this address? I'm sorry about my lack of French." I hand her the piece of paper which she takes with a nice smile. Christ, I think, in T.O. nobody would have taken this from me.

"Good afternoon, sir, and welcome to Montréal." She replies. The young lady smiles at me despite my shady look, she reads the address on the piece of paper. She goes on her computer and loads up a map of Montréal.

"Don't worry about not speaking French. That is not a problem. There it is. It's in Old Montréal. Not too far from here, about 2.5 kilometres. You'll love it there. All the charming ancient buildings, the cobbled streets. Lots to do also. Would you like me to print the map for you?" She has a lovely French accent.

"S'il vous plaît," I say with a very heavy English accent.

She prints the map indicating on it their location and shows me how to get to Rosa's by tracing the directions with her pen.

"Thank you. You're a wonderful and very pretty young lady."

"Thank you, sir. I wish you a good stay in Montréal. I'm sure you'll love our beautiful city."

She smiles warmly at me. I'm impressed by her welcome. So friendly. Ok, let's get out of here. Love that sunshine. A big board on the other side of the street indicates the temperature is 17°c, high for this time of year. Well, that doesn't seem to be too far. She said about 2.5 kilometres. OK, down that way for a bit according to the map.

I walk at a good pace and 35 minutes later I'm in front of Rosa's restaurant. My heart is thumping hard. Not because of the walk, but because I'm nervous like hell. Christ, I hope I did the right thing. The place is on a corner in an old stone building. Very old. Wow! There's nothing like this in Toronto. Breathe deep, big guy get control of your nerves and walk in.

The place is deserted. Not surprising at 3h30 in the afternoon. I walk to the counter at the back of the room and suddenly a small woman, about my age appears from the back room.

"Oh, my god!" She says with her hands on her rosy cheeks. She looks at me standing in front of her and recognizes me right away.

"Max. Oh! My god." She starts crying and hugs me tightly.

"Rosa, my dear, dear friend." My voice wavers. I can't speak. My eyes water and I return the hug trying not to crush the little woman. I tenderly kiss the top of her head.

"Come, let's go sit over there," she says pointing to a table at the end of the counter. She grabs my big callused hand and drags me there.

We reminisce for a little while. Then, Rosa gets all business-like.

"Max, you'll work part-time here as a cook." I nod. "You cook breakfast from 6 to 11 every day except on Mondays and Tuesdays, which are your days off, and because it's quieter. Oh! I forgot, on Sunday, breakfast is served until 1 P.M. Late breakfast is very popular here, so add a couple of hours. OK? Oh! By the way, it pays $18 an hour, less taxes and stuff." I nod again.

"Thank you, Rosa. I'll do my best for you. I promise you."

"I'm not worried, Max. Any idea where you will be staying?" frowning at me.

"I don't know. Any suggestions? Euh, Money is an issue," I growl.

Rosa thinks for a few seconds.

"I have an idea. Wait a moment. I'll be right back."

She gets up, disappears into the back room and returns with her cell phone. She taps it a couple of times and a call goes through.

"Jules. How are you?" She listens for a few seconds.

"I have a favour to ask of you, Jules. My old friend Max is here and he needs a place to live. He'll be working for me, here at the restaurant. He's a super guy. I trust him completely, Jules. You wouldn't happen to..."

Jules cuts in, she listens, smiles and looks at me with bright eyes and nods.

"I knew I could count on you, love. Bye, bye." Excited, she hangs up.

"Yes!" She almost screams. "My little Jules will gladly accommodate you. He said that if I trust you, he will too. He has a proposition for you." I frown. "You'll see. Now, Max, Jules is the nicest young man on this planet. You will like him," she tells me. "He's bright, not a big guy, well-built and don't be fooled, he does some kind of martial arts thing or other. He's very special to me, especially since he lost his parents last Xmas."

"Thank you. I don't know what else to say, Rosa. I..." I can't continue as I'm fighting back tears. I fucking hate that.

"Oh, dear Max, I love you. You know that. I'd do anything to help you out, and Jules is a great young man. Treat him like he is my son." That particular statement sounds like a warning to me. The tone is not aggressive, but it seems to carry a message. "You'll like him. He's a little bit like you, you know. Bottles up all the emotions and talks very little. You two will get along, that, I am sure of it. He has no real friends that I know of and no lover. I wonder if he ever had one. He's gay, by the way. He will like you, Max. I know him quite well." She has that little smile on her face that I think I recognize. "Things will get better for you, I know it."

She takes her hand away. She smiles at me and gets up. So do I. I tower over her. I'm 6'4", and she's 5'2". But, there is no doubt that she's the boss around here.

"You start tomorrow morning at 6 sharp," she says sounding like a tough boss." Use the side door through the ally way on that side. She points towards the wall behind her. Jules lives up the street. Here's the address, she hands me a card and tells me how to get there.

"You don't lose any time, do you?" I say with a big smile on my face. Thank you, Rosa.

She walks me to the door holding my hand, I bend down, kiss her on both cheeks and leave.

Well, big guy, this is it. I have a job and a place to stay. Man, I love Montréal. "Let's go meet this Jules," I say out loud, smiling to myself. I get to the address on the card a few minutes after leaving the restaurant. It's very close. I stand in front of an old stone house. Very old house. There's a bronze plaque on the right side of the front door that reads: «Maison Chauvigny construite en 1694». Wow! «Built in 1694». I notice that the outside stonework has been cleaned and repaired, and new windows that look like the original windows installed. The roof looks like it was completely redone. Normal, for a house this old. Over 500 years old. There's no bell, so I knock. Once again my heart is racing. I breathe deeply. As I open my eyes, a young man opens the door.

"Max, I presume. Please come in. Oh, by the way, if you look in the middle of the door, you see that?" I nod. "It's an old fashion doorbell ringer. If you turn it, it screams, literally. I have to change the bell inside it."

I try it and indeed it sounds like screaming, perhaps more like screeching. I look Jules up and down. A little guy! Nice baritone voice. Rosa's right, he's well-built. Very masculine. Nice fitting jeans, square shoulders, nice looking, young man. I'd say 5'10" no more. Umm, nice package too. That's promising. I'm a pig, I think to myself.

"How are you, Jules?"

I extend my large paw and Jules grabs it firmly. As we touch, a jolt, quite pleasant, runs through my entire body. I'm sure Jules felt the same thing judging by his reaction. Woof! I felt it all the way to my balls.

Jules returns the up-and-down look and misses no details. Wow! What a strange feeling! He looks like shit. Soft intelligent amazing pale grey eyes and there's a gentleness there. I like that deep voice. More like a growl or grunt. Masculine, large man. Strong like hell, I'm sure. Wow! That's a full package. Jules thinks.

"Come in, Max. Please make yourself at home. My apartment is upstairs and on this floor, I plan to build two small apartments. I've made the plans already. I just didn't have the time to go ahead. One of them will be yours. Come. We'll check the space out and you can pick. Oh! I'm sorry, Max. You're probably tired after such a long bus trip." I frown. "Rosa called after you left and give me a few more details about you." I nod my understanding.

"I'm fine, Jules." I smile my warmest smile. Umm, I like him. Rosa's right.

I relax a bit and follow Jules and admire that cute little ass of his. Get a grip buster. This ain't the time, I say to myself. Something about him turns me on. I like his masculine demeanour. He's young but seems quite mature.

We move down the hall alongside the staircase. Jules goes on to tell me about his plan.

"The one on the right is the one next to the carriage porch which goes to the inner court. The other one, on the left, is next to the other house where my workshop is. That dividing wall is made of stone. It is between 3' to 4' thick. No sounds get through that kind of solid mass. Both apartments have a door to the inner court. They're good size spaces. I planned an open space like a studio. But if you prefer a closed bedroom, we can do it, but it'll be small."

We look quickly at the bare spaces. I think I prefer the inside space. That stone wall is impressive and to think it was built over 500 years ago. Christ! I'm overwhelmed. Everything going so fast.

"I don't know. Euh, this one. I like that stone wall. How much for rent, Jules?"

"Nothing, Max. This is your home for as long as you want to live here. Just take care of the utility bills and your cable/internet fees."

I look at Jules not knowing what to say. "I don't know what to say but thank you. I'm not a very fancy guy with lots of fancy words. So, thank you, Jules."

"Max, you're Rosa's friend and I'll do anything for her. And, I like you. But." Jules says raising his hand.

Ah! There's a but. He wants sex from me. Get serious Max. Listen to the little man, I say to himself.

"Judging from your hands, I'd say you did a lot of manual work. So, I think that you are probably good at construction work. How about you do the work?" Jules says waving his hand around the space.

"Yup, Jules. I'm good at it. I'll do the work. I like to make furniture too. I worked for a cabinetmaker in Toronto, and he said I was good at it." He doesn't miss much, does he?

"OK! You can use all the tools in the shop next door. If you need anything else, we'll buy it. I keep the keys to the shop upstairs. I'll show you where later. Oh, I'll pay you of course."

"Nah, that's not necessary. You're not charging me rent, so..." Jules cuts in.

"Max, I'll pay you. You need the money and I couldn't let you do that kind of hard work for free. If you want, I'd like to work with you from time to time. You can teach me. It'll be useful for me," Jules continues trying to end the rent matter.

"Why are you...? OK, I get it. Rosa. You told me that already. I'm a little bit nervous, Jules. It's all happening so fast. I appreciate your help."

Jules just nods and smiles.

"Come on, let's go upstairs. I'll show you the workshop later," Jules says and we both climb the stairs to the second floor.

I follow him and I like the view. Nice ass. Keep yourself under control, big guy, I can't screw this up. I really like him. He seems to like me too.

Jules takes me around his apartment, shows me the den where I'm going to sleep and explains how things work and that I will have to shower upstairs, in his bathroom, next to where he sleeps. Umm?

We sit down and have a little bit to eat which I enjoy more than I should and then we go shopping. I need clothes. I have next to nothing. I want to use my secret little stash, but Jules insists on paying. After a good shower, we leave to have supper at Rosa's who is delighted to see us. She notices the way we look at each other, and she smiles. She tells me, while Jules left to use the restroom, you like him, don't you? Go for it. I know that you will make him very happy. I look at Rosa stunned. She leaves before I have the chance to say something. Hey! We just met a couple of hours ago, I say to myself.

***

A month later

My jobs are going well. Rosa is pleased with my work. My apartment is coming along and should be ready in another month or so. I like Jules's company, it feels so good when he's around helping me. He learns fast, he's strong for a small guy. I like living here, with him, and I think he does too. But, neither one of us made a move. I don't know why. We both work all the time. Lately, I can see that Jules is tired and he worries too much about all that stuff he's doing. He seems frustrated about something. He needs a vacation, I think. The company he's working for is doing very well and I think they pressure him too much. And that guy, Rick, Jules's boss, comes around regularly and I don't like him hanging around the little guy so much. Am I jealous? Yes, I admit to myself.