D-Boy

by Edward Kendrick

  “Problem child?”

  “Well…” Derek chewed his lip. “Not like I was in trouble or anything, but she had a problem accepting I’m gay.” He dropped his gaze to the table, toying with a spoon.

  “I see.” There was a long pause.

  Now he tells me he’s not hiring and that ups my creds a notch that I’m out of work and desperate.

  “While I don’t approve of homosexuals in general, I understand it’s not a choice. I try not to let my feelings interfere with my business.”

  Derek looked up in surprise. “You mean…?”

  “I need a cook. It would be only as an assistant. You’d be doing prep work for my two regular cooks.” He smiled slightly. “Or as they like to think of themselves, my chefs.”

  In that instant, Derek changed the scenario. “Thank you. Thank you. Honestly, I was giving up hope of finding anything other than a job at some fast food place.” He shuddered. “I think I’d rather die than work for one of them, but finding a job is so hard these days and I’ve only been in town for three weeks…and I’m babbling, aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

  Tony chuckled. “At least I know you’re serious about needing the job. There are papers to fill out, of course. I’d like you to be here tomorrow morning at nine. That way you can be finished with them and ready to learn what you’ll be expected to do.”

  Derek heaved a sigh of relief. “I’ll be here right at nine. I promise.”

  “Excellent.” Tony held out his hand, saying as Derek shook it, “I won’t find out you’re a runaway, I hope, after I check your references.”

  “No, sir. I promise.”

  “Very good. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  * * * *

  Derek was heading back to his apartment after getting hired by Mr. Benini when his cell vibrated on his hip. He checked the ID, saw the name Brad was using, and answered.

  “Get your ass to the Art Museum. Now. It’s about a half a mile from where you are. Go in the front entrance and upstairs to the armor court. I’ll meet you there.” Without waiting for a reply, Brad hung up.

  “Now what’s got his tail in a twist,” Derek muttered, looking around for the museum. He saw it far off to his right past a small lake and soon was inside. After asking for directions, he headed upstairs.

  “Whoa,” he whispered, when he walked in. There were knights in armor seated on armor-clad horses in the middle of the court. Not real men and horses, of course, but definitely impressive nonetheless.

  He heard someone come up behind him then Brad said, echoing Derek’s thoughts, “Impressive, huh?”

  “Oh yeah.” Derek turned to look at him. “Why the meeting?”

  Without replying, Brad walked to a bench set along one wall, partially hidden by cases displaying more suits of armor. When they both were seated, Brad said, “What the hell did you do? Getting hired there? That was not in the plan.”

  “I know. On the other hand, what better way to meet Mario if he is a regular there?”

  “You’ll be in the kitchen, damn it. Not out front.”

  “I’ll still be there every day.”

  “With a job, so he’ll have no reason to try to pull you into what he’s doing because you can’t play the ‘poor me’ card.”

  “No. I’ll play the—” Derek chuckled “—I’m not going to say ‘the card’ thing. What I will do, when I get the chance, is piss and moan some about how having the job is great but I’m not making enough to move out of the roach-infested apartment I’m living in.”

  Brad thought about that and nodded. “Okay, that could work, if you can make friends with him somehow.”

  “It won’t be any harder than it would have been the way we first planned it.”

  “True. I guess you’re forgiven.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Derek leaned back against the wall, looking at the knight in armor in the case beside him. “I think I’m glad I didn’t live back then. Can you imagine wandering around in that all day?”

  Brad chuckled. “I don’t think they wore it twenty-four seven. Just when they went to battle.”

  “Yeah, probably. Okay, I should get out of here. There’s no reason why anyone should have followed me at this point, but better safe than sorry.”

  “Watch your back, once you do make contact.”

  “I thought that was your job.”

  “It is, but still.”

  “I know, and I’ll be careful.” Derek stood, and for a brief second was tempted to kiss Brad since no one was watching. He pushed that thought aside as quickly as it had come and strolled away.

  Still, it would have been nice.

  * * * *

  Derek started work the next morning but it was three days before he saw the man he was looking for. At least he was pretty certain it was Mario. He was on a break out back having a smoke when the man came in—or at least feigning that he was smoking. It gave him a bit of cachet with Carl, one of the cooks, who smoked like a chimney and was always bumming cigarettes from him.

  So when he went back inside in time to see a man had come in who resembled how Mario had been described to him, Derek made a point of asking Carl who he was.

  “Him? He’s a punk named Mario. Okay, not a punk, since he’s Tony’s nephew, but…yeah, he’s a punk. Doesn’t seem to have a job but has plenty of money.”

  Derek chuckled. “Jealous?”

  Carl snorted. “Wouldn’t you be?”

  As he studied the man, Derek admitted he might be. Mario was tall, probably six foot, his dark hair slicked back with a side part, and he had a shadow of a beard as if he needed a shave. He’d come in with two other men who appeared to be friends, or maybe business associates, from the way they waited for him to choose where they’d sit, and they ordered only after he had.

  “Eyes back in your head,” Carl said with a laugh. “He’s married.”

  Derek nodded. “I was just wondering how he got his hair to behave like that.”

  “Lots of mousse, I suspect.”

  “Probably.”

  They went back to work and that was the last Derek saw of Mario that day. However, the next day he reappeared, with the same two men. Since it was slow, Derek asked if he could take his break a bit early and when he was told that was fine, he made it a point to go out through the restaurant to the sidewalk and lean against the patio railing while he smoked and, ostensibly, watched the people walk by. When he went back inside, he caught Mario looking at him and nodded before going into the kitchen.

  The same routine happened the following day, only this time, on his way back to the kitchen, Mario beckoned him over to his table.

  “You’re new here,” Mario said.

  “Yes, sir. I started a few days ago,” Derek replied with a mixture of defiance and deference.

  “Like the job?”

  Derek shrugged. “It’s a job. What more can I say.”

  “True.” Mario smiled, before returning his attention to his companions.

  “Kissing up to the boss’s nephew?” Carl asked when Derek returned to the kitchen.

  “Nope. I guess he wanted to find out who I was, though come to think of it, he didn’t ask my name.”

  “He’s just showing off to his uncle that he’s ‘involved’ in the restaurant. As if.”

  Chuckling, Derek went back to prepping for the cooks. But when he glanced into the main room of the restaurant, he saw Mario studying him. The man turned away when he realized Derek was looking. Interesting. I wonder what that was all about?

  Mario didn’t come in again for two days. Then, just before Derek’s shift was over on the third day, he reappeared. This time he was alone and he took a seat at the small bar on one side of the restaurant rather than at a table. When Derek came out of the kitchen, Mario nodded, pointing to the stool beside him, cocking an eyebrow in question.

  “I never introduced myself,” Mario said when Derek joined him. “Although I bet by this time you know who I am.”

  “Tony’s nephew, Mario, al
though I don’t know your last name.” That was a lie because Derek had made certain to find out.

  “Benini, just like his. My father is his older brother. What do they call you?”

  “Derek. Derek Parrino.” He was quite certain Mario already knew, but played along.

  “So, Derek Parrino, how did you end up here?”

  “Meaning the restaurant or the city?”

  Mario shrugged. “Both?”

  “I lost my job, where I used to live, couldn’t find another, and decided to come up here since my uncle used to live here years ago. I remember his talking about how great Cleveland was, and how easy it was to find a job.” Derek snorted derisively. “He lied. Or, to put a better face on it, things must have changed a lot since then.”

  Mario listened as if he was interested, saying, when Derek was finished. “You’re from down south somewhere.”

  Derek chuckled. “It shows, huh?”

  “Well, you said, ‘up here’ and there’s just a bit of a southern drawl when you talk, so it was an easy guess. How’d you find this place?”

  “My uncle again. Well, not that he told me; he’s dead now, but he was always going on about ‘Little Italy’ when he’d come to visit us—how great the restaurants were and some festival they all participated in. So I figured, why not check things out?”

  Mario nodded. “The Taste of Little Italy. So, do you like it here?”

  “I haven’t had much chance to explore. I hit town, found a cheap apartment down off Chester, and started looking for a job.”

  “Not the greatest neighborhood,” Mario commented.

  “But what I can afford on what I’m getting paid. I spent the last of what money I had saved to pay first and last for the apartment after hitchhiking up here.”

  Mario took a drink of his wine and seemed to realize Derek hadn’t ordered anything. “You want something? A beer? wine?”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not quite old enough yet, so it isn’t really a good idea.” Derek smiled wryly. “I don’t want the place closed down because of me. Besides which, I have a bus to catch in a couple of minutes.”

  “Okay. It was good talking to you. Don’t let my uncle work you too hard.” Mario laughed as he said that.

  “Yeah, I’ll try not to. Later.”

  Since Mario didn’t respond other than to nod, Derek took off.

  * * * *

  “He made the first move,” Derek said when he called Brad to report in.

  “I saw. Anything interesting happen?”

  “Other than his quizzing me about why I was in the city? No. I gave him the story we came up with, clued him in I’m underage, and complained a little about having no money, to explain why I’m living in this dump.”

  “Good. It’ll be interesting to see if he takes it any further.”

  * * * *

  The night after his conversation with Mario, Derek was on his way to the bus stop when a car pulled up beside him.

  “Need a lift?” Mario called out, after rolling down the passenger-side window.

  Derek went over, leaning down to look at Mario. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, hop in.”

  When Derek did, Mario asked for the address. After Derek gave it to him, Mario pulled out into traffic again, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Do you have time for a drink?” Mario asked. “There’s a nice little bar I hang out at sometimes, and before you say anything, they do serve non-alcoholic stuff like sodas and Virgin Marys.”

  Derek laughed. “I’ll stick to soda, and sure. Anything’s better than going back to roach haven.”

  “Ugh. That bad?”

  “Well…maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but let me tell you, it’s far from heaven.”

  They drove in silence the rest of the way to the bar, Mario deep in thought from what Derek could tell. When they got out of the car, Mario led the way inside. It was a dimly lit place with music playing quietly in the background. As they walked to one side of the room, Mario stopped twice to talk to people Derek figured were friends of his, so he hung back, checking out the rest of the place. The decorations were minimal, just a few beer and wine posters on the walls, and a long bar sat along one wall with a well-stocked back-bar.

  He turned when the front door opened and saw Brad come in and take a seat at the bar. He was casually dressed in slacks, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up, as if he’d just gotten off work. That fit in with most of the other customers. Just a typical local bar. He followed Mario to their table.

  When they were seated, a waitress came over. Mario ordered a glass of wine, Derek asked for a soda. When she left, Mario tented his fingers, looking at Derek.

  “I did a bit of checking on you, after our last talk.”

  “Why?” Derek asked, frowning.

  “I wanted to be certain you were what you seemed.”

  Derek tightened his lips angrily. “Why wouldn’t I be? Besides which, your uncle already did that. You afraid I’m out to steal the day’s receipts or something?”

  “Calm down. I had my reasons. Your story checks out, including the fact you were living hand-to-mouth for a while before you—what? Saved enough came up here?”

  “I told you that! I needed to find someplace with jobs, so yeah, I started saving what I could, hitched up here and had just enough for the apartment.” Derek took a deep breath. “Still am living on next to nothing, when it comes down to it. My first paycheck was nothing to write home about.” He glanced warily at Mario. “Not that I’m complaining. Your uncle pays a bit better than a lot of places I’ve worked.”

  Mario nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to run back to him to say you’re after a raise already or bellyaching about your job.”

  The waitress returned to put their drinks down then moved on. After they’d each taken a drink, Mario rapped a knuckle against his lips. “Tony says you’re gay.”

  “That was out of the blue,” Derek replied. “Yeah, I am. And?”

  “When you were between jobs, which from what I found out was often for a few weeks at a time, did you ever consider, and don’t take this the wrong way, using that as a way to make money?”

  Derek scowled. “Is that your subtle way of asking if I was on the street giving blowjobs in dark alleys?”

  Mario shrugged. “It happens, when guys are desperate.”

  “Guys? Or gays?” Derek muttered.

  “Both. And you didn’t answer my question.”

  Derek sighed. “And if I say I did, what then? You run back to Uncle Tony to let him know I’m a hustler and he should fire me?”

  “Not at all. I just needed to find out if what I’m thinking about you is the truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “That you’re the kind of guy who isn’t averse to doing something that, shall we say, isn’t quite legal.”

  Shrugging, Derek replied cynically, “Don’t most people break the law when they’re down and out?”

  “Actually, no. There are a lot straight-up people who would never consider it, no matter what.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Derek took a deep drink of his soda before asking, “What’s all this about then?”

  Mario glanced around then leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. “I have a proposition for you. One I think you might be interested in.”

  “What, you’re a pimp on the side?” Derek said disgustedly. But he let a trace of interest light up his expression.

  “Not quite the way you’re implying.”

  “That tells me you are. I’m not interested.”

  “You might be, when I tell you what I have in mind.” Mario picked up his glass and drained it. “Let’s take this conversation somewhere more private.”

  Derek knew he had two choices, given the type of man he was portraying. He could say no, get up, and walk away, and hope Mario would try again. Or he could play to what Mario obviously thought were his baser instincts and go with him. And pray he hasn’t made me. But
if he has, he wouldn’t be propositioning me. He’d have had me dusted and my body dumped in the Cuyahoga.

  “Sure, why not,” Derek said.

  Mario tossed some cash on the table to pay for their drinks and got up. Derek followed him through the room to the exit, glancing quickly at the bar as they passed it. Brad was deep in conversation with the bartender, or so it seemed, but he caught Derek’s glance in the back-bar mirror and gave a miniscule nod.

  “Where are we going?” Derek asked when they were in Mario’s car.

  “To meet a friend of mine.”

  Derek reached for the door handle.

  “Hang on,” Mario said sharply. “It’s not what you’re thinking. He and I are in business together. I think we could use you. And before you ask why, let’s just say I’m a good judge of character and—” he grinned “—you’re not quite as on the up-and-up as you’d like people to think. At least that’s my reading of you. Am I right?”

  “I’m no crook, but yeah, if there’s money involved and I can make some of it safely—if that’s where you’re going with this.”

  “You’ll find out.”

  Mario finally started the car. Ten minutes later they were pulling into the driveway of a modest home back in Little Italy. For a moment, Derek thought this might be one of the houses they were looking for. He was quickly disabused of that idea when a man Mario’s age opened the door and took them into a perfectly normal living room filled with overstuffed chairs and sofas. An elderly woman sitting in one of them got up to greet Mario, kissing his cheek. Then she disappeared up a flight of stairs off the entryway.

  “Jack, this is the kid I was telling you about,” Mario said, waving for Derek to take a seat on the sofa.

  Jack nodded, sitting in a chair across from Derek. “He’ll do, from the look of him.”

  “I’ll do for what?” Derek asked tightly, shooting a worried look at Mario when he joined him at the other end of the sofa.

  Mario chuckled. “I’m not pimping you out. I told you that.” He glanced at Jack. “You explain.”

  “I will, but first…” Getting up he left the room, coming back moments later. “Not that I don’t trust Mario’s instincts, but still it’s better to be safe than sorry. Please stand up.”