I first saw him from across two rooms. I was in the
kitchenette and he was out in the living room near the couch. Our gathering
place tonight was Jimmy’s, and you were assured of finding something, or
someone to do at his gatherings. The house was old, brick and tastefully
decorated. Not overly done with knick-knacks or other tacky things. He owned
his own home, made good money and knew how to enjoy himself. He also attracted
a wide group of friends, a real cross section of people. Jimmy could be seen
here and there, checking on his guests. One group was huddled about the coffee
table, doing a shot called the California car bomb. Yuck.
Jimmy’s parties always drew out people I
didn’t regularly see. I had been talking to Uncle Brent, who was like the gay
version of the Real seal of quality or approval. We were just catching up,
beings because we see each other infrequently, at this gathering of our peers,
more or less.
We
had some wild company tonight, some pierced and some tattooed, some trashy and
some local royalty, but all basically good people. This crowd included no
druggies, at least not outside alcohol, Mary Jane and Vitamin V.
So
Uncle Brent is telling me all about how half of the costume designers in the
theater institute are gay, the male half, and about a new production coming up
that they are working on non-stop. That’s when I suddenly tuned out and saw him
across the room, next to a fellow who looked to be a little older than my
thirty one years. The fellow was dressed casually, sweater and khakis with
heavy soled shoes.
He
was speaking to a couple of people, some of whom I knew and more of whom I
didn’t. He struck me as little less than mediocre next to his companion, a dye
job blond with a clear complexion. Sharp blue eyes moved around the room, but
no smile touched his face nor was there any amusement in his eyes. If anything
he looked wary, possibly uncomfortable.
“What
caught your eye?” Uncle Brent asked as he turned to follow my gaze across the
room, “Who?”
“Why
do you assume it’s who?” I asked him without moving my eyes from the new
fellow.
“Please,
when isn’t it a who?” he scoffed and I chuckled. He had a point there.
“Looks
like Ed has someone with him,” he said and I remembered the plain fellow’s name
was Ed. Surely named for the talking horse.
“You
know, Ed looks like he spent a few dollars on that outfit, too bad he didn’t
wear a girdle too,” I snickered under my breath and we both chuckled.
“If
you don’t have anything nice to say….,” Uncle Brent began.
“Come
sit next to me,” I finished for him.
“Well,
that bad bottle job next to him didn’t come cheap either,” he said in a
conspiratorial tone.
“Well,
besides the fact that it’s a dye job, there isn’t anything wrong with him,” I
told Brent, defending this creature. The blonde’s eyes had never settled the
entire time, and I noted that no one was speaking to him nor was he making the
effort to speak to anyone. Ed, meanwhile, continued to bray to a diminishing
audience. Wait, asses bray, right? How silly of me….
“Not
what I meant, Sweetie, the curtain not matching the rug is just the beginning.
Nico doesn’t come cheap, and Ed must have paid a small fortune just to have him
here for a half an hour. Ever since Robert left him high and dry, he’s been
trying to make everyone see how happy he is to be alone.” Uncle Brent and I
looked at Ed as he postured and Nico continued to wait; like a man who is
painfully near parole time, with the warden making a last minute speech.
“Rent
boy?” I asked.
“A
high paid one, Hon, you need a credit line to get him. At least for now, in a
little time if his face doesn’t get cut or something, then maybe he’ll stop. I
don’t think he really wants to do it, but the money can be a big lure,” Brent
whispered.
“His
eyes, they haven’t stopped sweeping the room since Ed opened his mouth,” I
observed.
“Well,
it’s not his environment, you know. I am sure he feels more at home in the
shadows now than he does in a well lit party with us supposedly upstanding
citizens,” he snickered.
“You
sound like you know something you aren’t telling me,” I said to Brent with a
pointed look. “Don’t tease me, Uncle.”
“Not
teasing exactly, it’s just…Nico used to be a student once. He came from a
middle income family, a nice Catholic
family where only the priests could screw the boys,” he rolled his eyes for
emphasis.
“When
they found out, they disowned him of course. He stayed with me for a short
time, but he needed money and…well, he ended up in the vicious circle that has
him now. I’m sure Ed had to take a mortgage out for this kind of time, although
that means that Nico will still have enough to shoot for the next guy, since
this is a non-standard affair.”
“That
is so sad. He’s beautiful,” I sighed as I looked at his restless eyes. They
flitted from one face to the next, and I wondered if he was gauging the crowd
for new customers or if he was simply hoping to avoid a drunken face that would
make him feel small by calling him down in the crowd. He was an outsider by all
counts, but I felt a tug none the less and for once it wasn’t in my jeans.
“Honey,
that’s a broken heart waiting to happen. I don’t even know if Nico has feelings
left anymore,” Uncle Brent sighed. Brent took in a lot of strays over time. Various
roommates couch campers and sleeping bag dwellers as they got back on their
feet. That's probably where his status came from, being so giving and offering
a helping hand. Something of a savior to all those kids he had helped out.
“Do
you really think it’s that bad?” I asked.
“Well,
I think he’s been at it for about two years now.” He resettled himself in his
chair to look more at me before he continued. “From what I can tell from these
guys, you have to pretty much bury your feelings down deep. Survival demands
that your human side can’t rule what you do, just business to get by. Your body
is a commodity to be bought, or rented, by the highest bidder at any given
time.”
“But
that’s so sad, he can’t be that old,” I said to Brent. Nico’s eyes had settled
on his shoes for a few moments, as if he was enthralled by his white sneakers.
Perhaps the mysteries of the universe could be found on his laces?
“No,
he’s not that old. But the business he’s in will use him up and throw him away.
It’s a waste, really.” Brent sighed. I think his sigh was also because he could
see me slowly detaching from reason as my heart began to move me to places my
mind wouldn’t normally go of its own accord.
“Was
he a good student?” I asked.
“Average,
I think. He had a lot of outside distractions, worried about his parents and
all that. I think he had a boyfriend at one time, too, but he lost that when
everything else went sour.” Brent sighed. “You can’t save him, Christoff.”
“You
bitches better have eaten some of my pie,” Sean admonished as he swept up,
dropping hairpins intentionally as he went.
“Last
thing I had from you was undercooked,” I muttered at him.
“But
fully formed, Honey,” he laughed.
“Go
on, whore! Ply your trade elsewhere!” I shooed him away dramatically. I had
spoken before thinking, and wondering how far away I could be heard, I turned
to look at Nico. Though he was painfully beautiful, he was also aware that his
kind, the streetwalker, had been called to play as an insult. I felt very
small, and could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
Nico
approached us slowly, sinuously, like a predatory animal. He looked not unlike
a hunting cat, grace and sudden death promised in each step. His tight, ribbed
black shirt was taut across his pecs. The definition was something a sculptor
would have been envious of. His jeans weren’t tight, but they clung enough to
show he wasn’t skin and bones under the threads.
Ed was still making someone yawn and hadn’t
noticed Nico slipping from his side, but I saw his approach. I was trapped in
that intense gaze, blue eyes flickering over me as they took stock of the man
who had uttered the phrase that had broken his tedium.
That
short walk from the living room to the kitchenette was so singularly erotic; it
should be bottled and sold. He could have been a runway model, he was proportioned
that well. His skin had a glow, a scrubbed
look to it that spoke of freshness, and a radiant sensuality that was just beyond the scope of my vocabulary.
“Hi,
Uncle Brent,” He looked down at Brent warmly, but nothing touched those distant
eyes. Perhaps Brent was right; no emotions were left to this work of art
wrapped about an empty shell. “It’s been a long time, how are you?”
“I’m
good, Nico.” Brent stood, as did I, and Brent embraced the smaller fellow.
Brent was about six foot or a touch taller to Nico’s five seven or so. “How
have you been?” Brent asked.
“I
get by, nothing to write home about,” he replied breezily, a practiced ease to
his tone. He continued to ooze sensuality, a mysterious component that surely
made his life easier in his line of work.
“Have
you thought about going to go back to school?” Brent asked, making small talk.
“Maybe
in the spring, I think I can afford it.” Nico replied.
“Are
you serious?” Brent asked, a smile touching his face.
“Maybe,”
Nico’s eyes, cold and proud all in one fixed on my own brown eyes. “No man’s
fate is sealed from one day to the next, right?”
“Of
course,” Brent replied, though it was plain that his comment was intended for
me.
“Who
is your date for the evening?” Nico asked Brent.
“This
is Christoff, he’s just a friend.” I smiled and held my hand out to Nico.
“Forgive
me if I don’t shake hands.” Nico fixed me in his gaze.
“Of
course,” I replied as I tried to be gracious.
“Nico?
We’ll be late for dinner, we have to go now.” Ed was suddenly at his side,
though Nico paid him no mind as he looked at my face unflinchingly.
“Man
is the only animal that blushes, or has need to, as Twain observed.” He allowed
his gaze to move from my face, down my body and back to my face. I was unable
to resist the urge to pull in my stomach when his gaze passed that point. “At
least you have the good grace to do that much.” Nico gave me a small smile,
perhaps knowing he had made a point.
“Good
night, Uncle Brent, it was really nice to see you again.”
Nico
turned from me with a final glance, flashing me a sly smile and allowed Ed to
resume being in charge. Anyone who saw the exchange a moment ago knew that it
was all a sham, Ed was no more in charge than I would be made pope. Nico
movements indicated he knew eyes were on him, and he was used to that, but he
refused to be cowed by it; grace under pressure.
“Well,
that was Nico,” Brent said as he retook his seat and I with him.
“That
was no person that was an event, an experience.”
I sat and watched the entryway where Ed and his date for the evening had passed
only moments before, and though conversation continued around me, I was not
part of anything memorable for the rest of the evening. Nico ruled my thoughts;
my mind liked his style and his apparently quick mind, what with his quoting
Twain and all. What’s more part of me longed to know him as he had never been
known before.
Dangerous
thoughts indeed.
I
pulled off my work clothes, exhausted from another day of retail drudgery. It
seems that there was a never-ending flood of people that were convinced they
were the most important thing going on planet earth, and if you weren’t aware
of it they would happily explain it to you. I pulled on some sweat-pants and a
tee-shirt before hitting the fridge. Just one beer before fixing something for
dinner, I told myself.
Two
weeks after the party and I was still thinking of Nico, wondering whose arms he
was in at the moment. I wondered if his eyes were far away from the carnal acts
his body participated in, instigated even. Where do those eyes look when the
world outside is so ugly and interested only in the sweaty rush and the slap of
flesh that you can provide? Does he have a happy place like the Pooh bear of
childhood tales? Or was that squashed years before, lost with other childhood
ideas and dreams?
It
was in my nature to brood over events that I had no control over. I fancied
myself something of a white knight, helping those who couldn’t or wouldn’t help
themselves. It was largely a thankless job, but one that brought some
satisfaction and meaning to my own view of the world. This guy was no different
in that respect, but there was something more, something bordering dangerously
on obsession.
I
was under tight rein, I had not called Brent to see what other tidbits could be
wormed out of him in casual conversation. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for the
right reasons that I was under such control. I knew there would be lectures for
my utter hopeless desire to do something about this beatific person, while I
conveniently ignored reality. So if I were to gain any more information, where
would it come from?
Logically,
I didn’t have the technical acumen to hack my way into files at the school.
Hey, I didn’t even have a complete name to work from, much less an address or
anything like that. So, what do I do? I wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to
go looking for a rent boy, except to ask Ed since he obviously knew. I figured
someone I knew would have an idea, but how exactly do you bring that up with
someone? Is there any truly graceful way to enquire how to hire a whore?
I
mulled my options, very few as they were, and sipped my beer. Eventually I got
up and made dinner, a bachelor special of pasta with ground beef tossed in. A
little Alfredo sauce completed my meal, along with another beer of course.
I
thought into the night, oblivious to the squawking from the television and the
occasional telemarketer. I slept that night wondering where Nico was, and still
wondering what I could do to make a positive effect on him. Could I do that?
Was I strong enough to have that sort of influence?
Days
passed and I went to work, kept up the façade of a life being lived, but
troubled behind my soft brown eyes. I know I don’t owe this guy anything, and I
also know that my choice of words doesn’t warrant making an effort to improve
someone else’s place in life. But I felt drawn, like an iron filing to a
magnet. Check that, to an electromagnet. The pull on my thoughts wasn’t
constant, but whenever my mind had an extra moment where it wasn’t otherwise
engaged, I thought of Nico. When I closed my eyes, I saw his blue ones looking
back at me. I imagined his surreal form moving. Smooth skin and toned muscle
moving under clothes form-fitting enough to be applied with a brush. I felt a
surge in my chest at seeing him in my mind’s eye, my pulse increasing. I wanted
him, to hold him and soothe him until his eyes lost that faraway look, until he
was in the world with me and somewhat happy. I don’t know why his happiness was
becoming important to me, but it was.
“Are you out of your
freaking mind?” Chuck asked me. We had just climbed out of his car to play
basketball.
“See why I didn’t want to
tell you?” I grumbled.
“But you saw the guy for all
of, what, ten minutes and you are still thinking
about him? You do realize how stupid that sounds.” He asked seriously.
“It always sounds better
before you say it.” I shot back.
“Well, come on! Why do you
do this to yourself? I mean, you can if you want, but if you don’t want my
opinion then don’t tell me about it.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion,”
I said as I bounced the ball and took my first shot. It clanged off the back
iron, a brick.
“Then why did you mention
it?”
I shrugged, “It’s been on my
mind, I didn’t ask to be crucified for my thoughts.”
“All I am saying is,” Chuck
heaved his first shot, which rolled around the rim before dropping through the
net. I tossed it back to him. “You have met other people and you don’t even
call them, and I’m wondering if it’s because of this guy?”
“Some of it, yeah,” I
conceded.
“So you haven’t even dated because you are caught up in the
fantasy of seeing this one guy again? A guy you say you insulted?”
“I don’t think he will hold
that against me, it wasn’t directed at him.” I said in self-defense.
“Yeah, but what about seeing
someone else? It makes no sense!” he growled as his next shot bounced hard off
the back iron.
“Chuck, didn’t you ever just
follow your heart on anything?” I
asked in frustration as I dribbled out to the three point line.
“You don’t follow your heart
like that! Once you know someone and
you get a good feeling, then you can follow your heart. Not just seeing someone
and pining for them two months later!” he exclaimed.
“Sometimes, you need to go
for that long odds deal. You should know; you’re a Red Sox fan. Long odds
should be nothing new to you,” I said with a grin. I missed the shot, and went
to resume a rebounding position under the rim.
“Predictability has nothing
to do with long odds,” Chuck replied as he threw an air ball. I ran down the
short incline and grabbed the ball before it went into the street.
“Well, I think I need to see
where this goes for me, it’s something I want to know.” I told him as I lined
up for a foul shot.
“At the risk of ….I give up,
you do what you want,” he said with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand.
“What if it works out, what
then?” I asked.
“You’re living in a fantasy
world! You’ll probably never see this guy again! Do you even know where he
works?” Chuck asked through gritted teeth.
“Well, sort of.” I replied.
“Either you do or you don’t,
it’s not a difficult question.” He said while continuing to lose his patience.
“He’s a rent boy, a
prostitute.” I said with a defiant glare.
“So now you’re trying to
make your own gay pretty woman? Give me a break!” He threw up his hands in
frustration.
“Why do you have to be so
negative?” I asked him while tossing up my first good shot of the day.
“I am being realistic. Why would you want to be in a relationship
with someone who gets fucked for money?” he demanded.
“He’s still a person, and
there were reasons he had to do what he has done. Everyone deserves a second
chance.”
“Why does it have to be with
you?”
“Maybe because I want him?”
I replied. He began to defend the goal as I moved forward with the ball, the
chatter winding to grunts and swearing as we ground out a game of one on one.
We never kept score; each point was a personal affront, so we just did what was
necessary to stop the other one from scoring.
Chuck eventually stumbled to
the edge of the court and sat down, inhaling great gulps of air. “Do you know
what an aneurysm feels like?” I laughed at him.
“So, are you really serious
about trying to find this guy?” he asked.
“Yeah, I am. I feel the need
to try and make him happy, and maybe I’ll find a measure of happiness there
too.”
“It’ll never work.”
“Thank you,
Nostra-dumb-ass.”
“You’re fucking nuts.”
“Have to be, I hang around
with you.” I replied.
“You can fix that, you
know.”
“Yeah, but who would drink
wine with me then?” We both laughed.
I
was going into my third month of wanting to find Nico, but being too
embarrassed to do a whole hell of a lot about it. I won’t lie; I felt a little
stupid since Chuck had put things so bluntly. There was a certain amount of
truth in his words, I couldn’t deny that.
Unfortunately,
this was not a quest based in being realistic or pragmatic. It was a quest of
curiosity, of some inner drive to know someone that had captured my attention.
He fascinated me like few others had before.
Sure,
I’ve had crushes, who hasn’t? We all do silly things, get clumsy when that
someone is around or maybe you dropped an anonymous note in their locker after
school. This was adult insanity, though. Silliness carried out on a grand
scale, and nothing brought that home more than the fact that I was standing in
front of Ed’s house, just out of the streetlights reach.
I
sighed deeply, steeling myself for having to deal with Ed, something I had
hoped to avoid. I mounted the brownstone steps and rung the bell for the second
floor apartment on the dilapidated building.
The
light came on in the entryway, a naked bulb illuminating the bare wood of the
interior stairs. The feet were the first to appear, moccasin style slippers on
his feet, gray sweatpants and matching top to cover a rotund torso. He had
grown a moustache and now looked much older than I had previously placed him.
He was clearly in his middle fifties. Gray hairs dominated the moustache and
poked through the unruly thatch on his head.
“Hi
Christoff! I haven’t seen you in ages! How’s your father?” he asked me. In
truth, he squealed not unlike a sick pig.
“He’s
well, thank you.” I replied stepping into the entryway.
“Good,
good. I haven’t seen him in a while, we seem to travel in different circles
now,” Ed prattled.
That’s because he figured
out you’re a piece of leeching trash. I smiled at Ed as we mounted the steps to his
apartment. His apartment was what one might call distressed. The wallpaper was
stained and a fine layer of dust seemed prevalent on almost everything.
“Can
I get you a cup of coffee?” he asked.
After
noting the general state of the apartment I declined.
“This
place has gone to hell since Bob moved out. He had his own filing system and I
can’t seem to find anything here,” Ed commented while directing me towards the
front of the place, the living room I presumed.
“I
am so much better off since that freeloader left! My God, you have no idea!” Ed
scoffed.
“Are
you still in touch?” I asked, more out of polite conversation.
“The
bitch hisses if we see each other, he’s such a baby.” Ed sniffed.
“I’m
sorry to hear that.” I intended to mention that I had seen him at Jimmy’s
party, but he picked up right away.
“Oh,
don’t be Sweetie! He’s a bad penny through and through. I’m sure he’ll latch
onto someone else soon enough. You know getting bill money from him was so
hard.” Ed put his hand to his forehead to demonstrate just how bad it had been.
“Of course if the Mary could have gotten a job that would have helped.”
“I
thought you both worked with the disabled?” I replied, not seeing a polite way
to get out of the conversation.
“I
worked, he lounged. Our supervisor caught him smoking some Mary Jane out the
back door one night, and he actually told the guy he was on his break, what did
it matter? I mean, can you imagine?” he asked me.
“Well,
I saw you at Jimmy’s a few months ago with a guy, did that dry up?” I asked.
“Oh,
you must mean Nico. We just went to dinner and stopped at the party first. He
has no personality, but a great
body.” He shivered to illustrate the point.
I
felt angry that this slob had his hands on Nico at some point. I realized, with
some sadness, that a great many had put their hands on Nico over time.
“Yeah,
he was quite a head turner. Where did you say you met him?” I asked.
“Oh,
I don’t even remember. We didn’t see each other after that. If you want the
truth, he robbed me that night. A hundred and fifty dollars was missing from my
wallet at the end of the night. I was pretty pissed, let me tell you. If I ever
see him again, it won’t be pretty!” Ed warned.
The
thought of this jellyroll threatening anyone was laughable, but I was pretty
sure I knew where the buck fifty had gone to. Thing was, how could I get him to
tell me where Nico was?
“That’s
too bad; he seemed like a real catch.”
“No,
not really. Men will ruin your life, just look at mine. My life,” he said
dramatically, “should serve as a warning to others.”
To watch their diet and
cholesterol intake, maybe. I was stymied; Ed wasn’t going to admit to anything. He was useless to
me and being here any longer would be
a waste as well. But I had to try.
“Ed,
if you wouldn’t mind, I need to find Nico. Can you give me any hints?” I asked.
“Did
the little bitch steal from you too?” he asked
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Oh,
Honey, whatever it was just let it go. Leave it in the gutter with that piece
of trash.” Ed sniffed for emphasis.
“Ed,
your duplicity is astounding.”
He
looked at me in confusion.
“You
hired a rent boy. You want to act as though simply because you did the paying
that you are so much better. I want to
find him, will you tell me how?”
“I
don’t have to pay for anything, get out of my house!”
I
stood and walked to the door, and then turned to face Ed. He took a step back, as if he thought I would strike him.
Not an unpleasant thought.
“Not
many people have less class than you, Ed. Just know that Nico isn’t one of
them. Bob maybe, but not Nico.”
“He’s
a whore.” Ed grated.
“Yes,
but ignorance can be taught, drunkenness sobered but stupid, Ed.” I looked at
him pointedly. “Stupid is forever.”
“Get
out! Get out!”
I
did.
***
A
few weeks later Brent called and we headed out for dinner in town. Downtown is
like many cities all across America, sucked dry of most of its character by the
sprawl of suburbia and the opening of million square foot mega malls. Jack’s
Oyster House was a local landmark, with a solid wood bar and black and white
checked floor tiles; a very classy place for the dapper and debonair to enjoy
valued company.
“It’s
been a long time since we ate here,” I said by way of conversation.
“Well,
trying to get a reservation here is like pulling hen’s teeth,” Brent chuckled.
“I
know; who did you sleep with?” I joked.
“The
head waiter, of course, and several times, Mary.” he said casting his eyes
heavenward. I gave him the groan the line deserved and we settled into the
gossip I was missing out on, who was sleeping with whom and who was cheating on
whom.
“So,
Ed heard that Bob was looking for a job over at the Ramada as a night manager.
I guess he called up over there, he knows someone in personnel I think it was.
All of a sudden, Robert has no application on file.” Brent shook his head, “You
don’t think Ed is bitter, do you?”
“Bitter is not even close to
the term. It’s funny, considering that Ed and Bob have the collective
intelligence quotient of mayonnaise, you’d think they’d get along better.” We
laughed and I decided to gamble.
“Speaking of Mr. Ed,” I
opened.
“What
about him?” Brent asked evenly. Damn, he knew what I wanted to ask, but he was
going to make me commit and broach the subject.
“Have
you heard anything more of his companion at the party?” I asked, avoiding his
gaze.
“Christoff,
are you still thinking about Nico?” he asked with a measure of disbelief. I
sighed and looked him in the eyes, feeling foolish, but determined to lay this
to rest.
“I
think about him in a lot of spare minutes. Maybe it is a mistake, maybe I am
being a fool. Maybe I am setting
myself up for a fall. But I want to find him, I want to help.” I said with a
firm gaze that was hard like steel, but brittle as glass.
“There
is no maybe about it! You should be old enough to know you can’t make change,
they have to do that themselves!” he scolded me.
“Yes,
but he needs a reason to change, doesn’t he? Why do we change? Circumstances
allow or force us to, that’s why. His whole world changed and he fell into a
way of living, if you call it that, to survive. Why should he change? If he
stops right now, what is waiting for him?”
“Oh
Christ, please don’t do this!” He ran his fingers though his hair before
looking at me. “I tried to reason with him, told him he could stay with me
until he was on his feet. He shot me down, couldn’t take the charity. He told
me he was a big boy and that he had made this mess by coming out and he had to
deal with the consequences. He is very independent, what do you think you could
say to him that I didn’t?” He asked me with a demanding look in his eye.
“Maybe
all I need to ask him is if he feels like he might have made a mistake,” I
replied.
“It’s
your funeral,” he replied.
“But
I don’t know how to find him, Brent. I need your help.”
“What
makes you think I can find him?” he asked, not meeting my eyes.
“You
never lose a way to contact people you care about.” I replied.
He
sighed deeply. “Do you have any idea how damaged a person you are going after?”
“I’ve never really talked to
him, but I want to. Is that so bad?”
“That depends on what you
want from talking to him.”
“I want to know who he is
inside. I want to know if he wants to be someone else. Brent,” I leaned across
the table, “I know you aren’t seeing what I am, the potential of a person in him. But I want to follow that idea; I
want to give him that path. I want to let him
choose.”
“I had a direct number for
him, once. It doesn’t work anymore. If you want to find him, you’ll have to do
it as a john. This isn’t his number, it’s his pimps.”
Uncle Brent handed me a
napkin with a number on it, a cell number from outward appearances.
“You have to tell them who
you want, they’ll do the rest.”
I looked at the number in my
hands, realizing that I was on the cusp of this madness. Now, all I had to do
was follow through.
“Did
I tell you what Jimmy did in Montreal?” Brent asked with a knowing smirk. I
listened to the story, young guys pretending to be bisexual and so on and so
forth. My mind was occupied by seven numbers.
I walked along the
shoreline, the small man-made lake still in the gloom of the middle evening. I
had an appointment here, time I would have to pay for. I trembled as a small chill
cut through me, one of anticipation and fright rather than due to the
temperature. The last of summer’s green grass grew beneath my feet. I had
dressed carefully in khakis and a button up shirt that I hoped covered my
middle in such a way that it wasn’t obvious how far the enemy had gotten in the
battle of the bulge.
Twilight
was descending upon the landscape, reddish-gold hues tinting the dying day. I
stretched my back, which was tightening up from the complex medical condition
known as anticipation.
The
fading light allowed me to see a short figure cresting a small hill about
hundred and fifty feet away. The radiant embers of the early evening hit the
blond hair that I remembered, and the motion was unmistakable. The sinuous
movement, he was graceful to the point of being hypnotic; confidence,
sensuality and sex appeal rolled from him in palpable waves.
“Funny,”
he said as he stepped in front of me, “Last time I saw you your face was a
similar color. Never thought you’d call on a guy like me?” he asked. Nico’s
head was tilted up to face mine, his blue eyes crystalline. They held sadness,
those eyes, something I wanted to sooth from them.
His
voice told a story that said he was glad to have me on some perceived lower
level. His eyes flashed a pain that showed he was sad to have been on that
lower level to meet me.
“Well,
I am surprised I had the courage, that much is true,” I replied.
“So,
clock’s ticking, you have the money?” he asked as he turned off his emotions,
the glimpse he had shown me smothered completely; but it was proof that emotion
still existed.
“Right
here,” I said as I handed over three hundred dollars from my pocket. I had
taken it out of my savings account earlier in the day. It was almost as much as
I made in a week, so I suppose there has to be a certain amount of insanity
involved here, right?
“Ok,
good,” he said as he quickly counted the three bills. I looked him over, his
tight black shirt with gold thread woven into the shape of a lion standing on its
hind legs, his distressed jeans and white sneakers. I looked into his blue
eyes, eyes that were now like mirrors; betraying nothing of the mind behind
them. They were eyes that were used to people mentally feeling him up.
“Where
do you want to go?” he asked me, a small hitch in his voice.
“Well,
I thought we could go to dinner first,” I said quietly.
“Has
to be walking distance, I don’t get into people’s cars,” he said firmly.
“Sure,
Quintessence is just over the next block, I hear they have good food,” I
replied happily to counter his businesslike tone. He nodded and we started to
walk towards the diner.
“Have
you ever eaten at this place before?” I asked.
“Johns
take me there sometimes when they want to settle their nerves,” he stated, an
unreadable expression on his sorrowful face.
“I
see. What do you say if we take the bus up to Garcia’s then?” I asked.
“Why?
You don’t want to be a regular john?” he asked with a sad chuckle.
“I
don’t want to be a john,” I said honestly.
“You
do realize you just paid me.”
“I
paid you in order to see you.”
“Yeah,
well, I don’t undress in public,” he replied caustically. I stopped.
“I
don’t want you to undress. I paid you because there is no other way I can see
you,” I replied in an unsteady voice.
“If
you don’t want to fuck me, why did you want to see me?” he asked. “You aren’t
one of those poor misguided individuals that want to try and save me, are you?
You don’t have a Bible stashed somewhere, right?” he asked.
“Look,
truth?” I asked. He placed his hands on his hips and nodded at me. “I haven’t
been able to get you out of my mind. You are…beautiful, you’re intelligent
and…I do want to help you. Paying you was the only way to get three hours of
your time and I wanted to use it to get to know you.”
“If
you want to help, you can be a regular, ok? Don’t preach to me about how fucked
up I am,” He stated resolutely.
“I
don’t intend to preach, and I am not very good at it in any case. I just want
to know you, who you are really. I want to bring you some happiness,” I said.
His eyes flickered for a moment, and I swear there was a glint of hope that was
squashed with ruthless effect.
“I
don’t like to make any attachments with my johns.” He said.
“I
don’t want to be a john, I want to be your friend,” I replied.
“I
don’t have any friends.” He replied stiffly.
“Yes,
you do. You have at least two, Brent and me.”
“Uncle
Brent…I’m surprised he talked to me. I guess he told you how I was a bright
young mind that fell into corruption and is best left in the gutter, right?” He
sighed, “…but some of us are looking at the stars.”
“Oscar
Wilde,” I noted, “I figured out you were bright, and I can see where you are
right now. The question is where are you going?”
“If
I can get enough money I can quit this. Winter is coming though; things get
slow then, can’t hang out in the park as much. Besides, the cops are getting
worse down here.”
I
started to walk again, towards the bus stop and I heard him fall into line with
me. “You buying dinner?” he asked.
“Yes,”
I replied.
“You
are giving me money so I’ll go out with you?” he asked.
“Exactly.”
“Do
you have any idea how weird that is?”
“I
have an idea.” I smiled at him.
“So
you don’t expect me to sleep with you?” he asked, as if he truly didn’t believe
me.
“Nope.”
“Wait
a second, wait,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “There has to be more
than that to it. Why?”
“Because
I can’t forget you. I’ve been thinking about you for four months and I finally
realized that I have to take a chance, I have to try to know you to see if
those blue eyes of yours have any love in them and to see…. if I have any love
left in me.”
“So
you are buying a date that you want to find love in or something. You seriously
don’t expect it to end in sex?” he asked me, incredulity on his face.
“I
don’t want it to end in sex.” I replied.
“Then
why pay me? Why not just ask me out?” he asked.
“Because,
you need the money and I need to see you. More important, it’s the only way to
get to see you. No one else knows how to get in touch with you except to go
through that grease ball that sets up your appointments.”
“So
what happens if you spend your money and never see me again?”
“I
call that grease ball and get another date.”
“That
could get expensive.” He said with a trace of a smile.
“Yeah,
it could.” I looked into his blue eyes, and searched there for that little
spark of hope I saw earlier. The eyes were wary, but not hostile; and maybe
just a touch curious. “Sometimes, Nico, you have to believe in something. I
have thought about you a lot, and I believe I have to take this chance. I
believe that somewhere inside you is someone that says he made a mistake, and
maybe he wants someone to love him. Maybe he thinks no one could love him
again, because of what he has become.” Small tears began to form inside the
corners of his eyes, making them shimmer.
“Nico,
I agreed to three hundred dollars so I could see if my hunch was right. I have
this…this need to take you in my arms and make all that pain in your eyes go
away, and I can’t explain it. I am
physically attracted to you, but I am also attracted to something I can’t
define in you and I have to try. I just have to try for you as much as for me.”
“You
have no idea how freaky that sounds,” he laughed while pushing a few tears
back.
“Yes,
yes I do. It’s the craziest, maybe
the dumbest thing I have ever done,
but I need to see you, I need to be a part of your life and…I want to make a
difference in your life.”
Silence
filled the space between us, his face slowly opening into a shy smile. It was
truly a work of art, that smile. It was so genuine, so sincere that it almost
hurt to look at it. His face showed a sign of hope that maybe something good
would happen here.
We
walked together to the bus stop and sat on the bench. He sat with one leg
folded under him, facing me and I looked at him, beautiful as a sunset and more
elegant than the dawn.
“I
have a little confession to make,” he said, looking down at his shoes.
I
waited patiently.
“I
have been asking Brent about you for the last four months. When he told me you
asked about me he said he tried to warn you off, tried to see if you were
genuine.” His blue eyes met mine, set in that smooth face and framed by the
dyed blond hair. “I made that connection with you too at the party, even though
the remark pissed me off. I felt cheap, but I realized that’s how normal people
are.” He sniffled. “I want to be normal.”
I
reached out and held his hand, lightly rubbing the smooth skin on the back of
his hand with my thumb, and he let me.
“I
meant what I said; I have enough that I can go back to school in the spring. I
stopped taking tricks three months ago and started working at a car wash over
on Madison Ave.
“I
lay awake at night and I wondered if the caring I saw in your eyes was pity or
something else. I told myself I was stupid to think it was any more than lust
but…” he laughed through a small amount of tears. “Here you are. You came for
me, just like I hoped you would.”
He
rewarded me with a breathtaking smile, one that no movie star could match. The
genuine happiness, the realization of a dream come true was hanging in the air
between us as the sun slowly went down on the landscape. I knew tonight I would
dream of new beginnings, of love given the chance to grow, of second chances
and redemption.
I
hoped soon I would also wake with those beautiful blue eyes to greet me on a
daily basis.
“So
what do we do now?” he asked.
“Well,
I can breathe a sigh of relief that I don’t have to call that guy anymore to
see you.” I smiled at him.
“That’s
Dennis, he lives across the hall.” Nico smiled shyly. “I can’t afford the
expense of a phone, but Dennis has a cell. I wanted to leave you a way to find
me. I didn’t have the courage to find you.”
“I was set up?” I chuckled.
“Uncle Brent! He was in on this the whole time!”
“Well, he works with actors;
it has to rub off, right?” Nico smiled at me. I basked in that smile and the
warmth of his soft hand in mine. He squeezed my hand lightly, chuckling and
wiping a stray tear from his eye.
“So, what do we do now?” he
asked again.
“How about we go to my car
and get some dinner first,” I hesitated. He nodded at me encouraging me to
continue. “Tonight, I want to find out if holding you for real feels as good as
it does in dreams.”