Memoirs of a Gigolo

by Margaret Buffano

  We came to the center of the park – the belly of the beast – there was a large circle of park benches. We saw silhouettes of men scattered about. Like a band of hungry wolves, they slowly gathered in front of us. There must have been at least ten of them, all looking dirty and poorly with glowing despair behind their eyes.

  One of them stepped forward, clearly the leader. Surprisingly, his speech sounded cultured, almost regal. Perhaps, he came from a well-to-do family, maybe well educated, but the path he had chosen had led him to be what he now was – a junky in Needle Park.

  “So, what do we have here? Two strangers seeking safe passage through our fair forest,” he looked at the gym bag in Chi’s hand, “And bearing gifts…tell us why we shouldn’t cut both your throats and take your money?”

  “Because we have something to sell you,” said Chi, holding up the gym bag.

  “Sooo…why shouldn’t we take your money and your ware, and then cut your throats?” smiled the leader, the others standing behind him began to laugh.

  Chi stepped forward and placed his face inches from that of the leader, “Because, it wouldn’t be wise to do so.”

  The leader’s smile dwindled down to a small awkward grin, “I’ve seen that look before in a man…I believe you,” The leader backed away slightly, “So, what do you have to offer us this night?”

  Chi opened the gym bag and held it out, the leader looked inside.

  “Ah…pharmaceuticals…not the normal fair we get around here, but don’t think it’s not appreciated,” he smiled up at us, “So, what is your price?”

  “Makes us an offer,” Chi said.

  “I see this isn’t going to get us anywhere. Why don’t we start by checking out the quality of the merchandise? How about…a little taste?”

  Chi just shrugged his shoulders. I remained silent. It was clear to all I was out of my element.

  The leader motioned for one of the others to step forward, a filthy, sickly looking teenage boy with a half-mouthful of ruined teeth and a glassy faraway look in his eyes. The leader put his arm around the boy’s shoulders, reached over and placed a kiss on his cheek.

  “This here is Crazy Tommy. Tommy likes to get high…as we all here do. But Tommy will take a chance on anything…he’d shoot up drain cleaner, if he thought it would work. Now, why don’t we let Tommy have a small taste, and if it’s bad stuff and he falls over dead…it’ll be no great lose,” he reached over and kissed the boy’s cheek once more.

  Chi and I watched the small group gathered around Crazy Tommy.

  “May I?” the leader asked, taking one of the vials from the small bag.

  A syringe appeared from nowhere; they rolled up Tommy’s sleeve, and the leader administered the drug. It was all done slowly and metallically, like a holy religious ceremony.

  The leader looked into the eyes of Crazy Tommy and smiled, “Sold! We’ll give you one thousand dollars for your entire stock.”

  “One thousand…!” Chi protested, “Do you know how much this stuff is worth?”

  “Of course I do, but if we pool all our money together that’s all we have…you can take it or leave it?”

  “Take it,” I whispered into Chi’s ear, tugging on his sleeve.

  “That’s only five hundred a piece!” he hissed back.

  “I don’t need a cut. You can have it all. Let’s just get out of here!”

  A minute later they handed us a wad of crumbled filthy bills – we didn’t even count it. Chi handed over the gym bag, and we started to back away.

  “Great doing business with you boys, come back anytime. Don’t forget, Wednesday night is bring a friend night.” The leader burst into laughter, as did the others.

  As we walked out of the circle and down the lane we had come, I looked back. They were all huddled on the ground around the small bag, like a flock of vultures pulling apart a dead calf.

  We were no more than a few feet from the exit of the park when two men stepped out of the darkness and stood in our way.

  “Evening, gentlemen,” said one of them.

  These were no junkies; they wore fine suits and appeared well-groomed.

  Oh, no…police, I thought.

  One was the spokesman, while the other watched on smiling.

  “It seems you gentlemen have been doing business in our park without our permission.”

  “Your park…?” Chi laughed, “Who are you…the mayor?”

  “Funny, very funny…we got ourselves a real comedian, here,” he turned to his partner who continued to smile. “No…we’re more like overseers here…like the game warden of these woods. Nothing sold or bought here without us getting a piece of it…call it tribute.” They both reached under their coats and each pulled out a gun. “Now… just hand it over.”

  Reluctantly, Chi reached in his topcoat pocked and pulled out the wad; the one doing all the talking grabbed hold of it.

  “Hey, I thought you said you only wanted a piece?” Chi growled.

  “Normally that would be true, but you came in without permission…there are fines…retribution. Next time, see us first before you start opening shop…this isn’t a free market, you know. Now, get back uptown and consider yourselves lucky.”

  The two men backed up slowly into the darkness of the park, till they disappeared.

  “Let’s go home,” I whispered to Chi.

  “Not without our money.”

  “What are you talking about? Those guys are killers…they mean business.”

  “You forget…I’m a killer, too,” Chi smiled.

  “It’s not worth it,” I argued, “It’s only a thousand dollars.”

  “It’s the principle of the thing,” Chi said, “They got over on us because they took us by surprise. We can do the same! They would never suspect we would go after them.”

  “It’s just not worth it!” I insisted.

  “Fine…I thought we were partners…thought we were brothers…” Chi was pouting.

  “We are,” I demanded, “It’s just not worth it!”

  “It is to me,” Chi said, he started to walk back into the park, “Fine…take your candy ass back uptown…who the hell needs you?”

  “Chi…” I called out, “Chi…” But he kept on walking deeper into the park until he disappeared.

  I felt tempted, only for a moment, to follow him; but thankfully the urge left me.

  I must have walked miles before I was able to hail a cab; it was nearly two in the morning when I returned to my studio.

  ***

  It was nearly noon when I stumbled out of bed. I put on my robe, went downstairs and collected my mail and newspaper. Though it was lunchtime, I still felt in the mood for breakfast. I fried some eggs, buttered some toast, and made a pot of coffee. Still in my robe, I sat down to my meal and casually thumbed through the paper.

  It was the usual dribble, I thought, till I came to a small story on the back page. The true essence of what I was reading did not dawn on me at first, but when I finished reading the entire article, I knew.

  Early this morning, just before sunrise, Officer Cohen, a patrol officer assigned to the Wilson Park area, downtown (also known to some as Needle Park), noticed a bright light omitting from inside the park. On investigation, Officer Cohen came on what he described as “Two large logs afire”. There was a large can of gasoline found not far-off behind a tree.

  The Fire Department received an alert, and once they put out the flames, it was obvious the so called “logs” were in fact charred human bodies.

  At this point, they have not been identified; only there were two bodies, both male with their hands and feet bound with wire, doused with gasoline and set afire.

  “We will know more after checking out the dental records,” said Officer Moran, “But keeping in mind the reputation of this area, I would assume it was a drug deal gone badly.”

  ***

  I would like to continue at this point with my journal, but it’s nearing dawn and the beasts will soon awake.
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br />   CHAPTER NINE

  ‘Too much of a good thing”

  I had the opportunity and the good fortune to meet and speak with the world renowned Chef Courier, head chef at Michelle’s, the last word in French cuisine in the city.

  I was the guest of Mrs. X, the wife of a car salesman. I should rephrase that. She was the wife of a man who owned car lots in all the mainland states; and if I were to drop the name, it would be familiar.

  We were both a little tipsy from the wine, Mrs. X raved on and on about the magnificent meal we just devoured. The Maitre d suggested we pay our respects to the Chef in person. They escorted us from our table and into the kitchen. It was all so entertaining, but the least they could do, since the amount Mrs. X shelled out for our dinner for two could have otherwise bought a small hospital wing.

  Chef Courier was a big man…overly big…he looked as if he had eaten anything and everything he ever cooked. He did have panache. His French accent flavored every word he uttered.

  “I am so grateful you enjoyed my cooking,” he announced humbly.

  “How could one not?” said Mrs. X.

  “So, what is your secret?” I asked.

  “It’s no secret,” was his reply. “Of course, you have to have a passion for what you are doing, but isn’t that true of anything, if you want to do them well? The other thing is knowing the correct amount in a recipe. Not enough salt…and there is no flavor. Too much salt and it is too salty. Too much sugar and it is too sweet.

  “It is always best to not have enough…you can always add more, but if you put in too much, there is no way you can subtract from what is there. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.”

  “So, that is your recipe for being a great chef?” I asked.

  “No, Monsieur…that is the recipe for life!”

  ***

  The intercom buzzed, I pressed the button, “Yes…who is it?”

  There was a long pause; so long I felt inclined to go back to what I was doing.

  “It’s Monica.” The voice came back through the electronic speakers in static tones; nonetheless, I recognized the sound of her voice.

  My first inner reaction was to blare out, “What the hell do you want?” My next reaction was to just ignore her, but I buzzed the buzzer and let her enter.

  As she stood before me, I realized she had been right all along. No longer did I have any feelings for her. She pegged me right, I hadn’t loved her…I loved it. Whatever it is? She stood before me now, and I felt nothing.”

  “How long has it been?” she asked, “five…six years! You look great!”

  I purposely eyed her up and down slowly, “And you look…you look old.” I said, knowing all too well those words would cut to her bone.

  “I’m sorry you still feel that way…I mean, bitter,” she confessed, “I’ve come to ask a favor of you.”

  “And, what is that?”

  “It’s my life…my life with Tom…it’s not what I hoped it should be.”

  “And, whose life is as they hoped it should be?’ I snapped back.

  “Please…Alex…I know it makes you angry when you think of us…but, please, don’t’ treat me this way! I need your help!”

  “And what makes you think I can be of any help?”

  “I need you to get rid of Tom for me.”

  “I’m a lover, not a fighter, baby,” I replied. “I don’t know where you get your information, but I can’t help you.”

  “Virginia Kingston told me what you did for her; now, I need help!”

  “Well, Virginia Kingston has a big mouth! Don’t you bitches believe in divorce?” I exclaimed.

  “Divorce is fine for some, but when it comes to high-finance it’s another world. In my case, I signed a prenuptial, everything is in stone. If I leave, I leave with nothing.”

  “Then leave with nothing…it’s what you went in with!” I hissed.

  “Why am I talking to you this way…there’s only one language you’ve ever understood! I’ll give you twenty-five thousand dollars!”

  “If you’re so chummy with Virginia Kingston, then you know she paid me twice that!”

  “Tom keeps me on a tight leash; twenty-five is all I can get my hands on.”

  “Well…” I smirked, “I know you’re good for it; twenty-five now and twenty-five after.”

  Her silence suggested to me it was a done deal.

  “Very important…” I demanded, “Once I have the twenty-five, in cash, and all the information I need, there’ll be no more communications between us! Do you understand? You can mail the balance here.”

  Again, her silence told it all.

  She slowly moved in close to me, she placed both her hands on my hips and slipped her index fingers through the belt loops of my pants. She gently pulled me in closer.

  “So, you’re still mad at me?” she asked in a whisper, while softly brushing her lower lip between my two lips.

  I was mad at her, but not for the reasons she would have suspected. I was angry because she had been right all along, and because she knew me better than I knew myself.

  When I confessed my love for her with tears in my eyes, she laughed and told me it was nothing more than a young man’s infatuation. Now, years later, I hadn’t the slightest inkling of feeling for her. Her prediction was on the money, and I hated her for it.

  I was also upset Virginia Kingston dared to tell Monica about the job I supposedly did for her – I felt betrayed.

  Now, the same underground gossip line that made me a successful gigolo was making me a successful murderer, and I didn’t like it. It was all getting too dangerous; it would have to stop.

  What also angered me was Monica knew all she had to do was wave money under my nose and I would agree to anything. She knew I didn’t have what it takes to say “No!”, and then chuck her down the stairs.

  Understand, I’m not uncomfortable knowing I possess a weak character and little moral fiber. What was uncomfortable was the fact someone else knew it, also.

  And, to add insult to injury, she knew if she pulled just the right strings she could inflame my lust for her. That enraged me the most.

  She pressed up against me and her hands began exploring…she held my full attention.

  She placed her lips into my ear and whispered, “You know, anger can be dangerous. If you keep it bottled up inside you too long…one day…pop…and you fall over dead.”

  “So, what do you suggest?” I asked.

  “You need to let it out. Lately, I’ve been such a very bad girl…a good slapping around might do us both some good?”

  So, that’s how it’s going to be? I thought. I backed up and slapped her across her cheek. I did it again and again till she fell to the floor.

  “That can’t be all of it,” she said, looking lustfully up into my eyes.

  “We’re just getting started,” I said.

  I reached down, picked her up in my arms, and then walked over to the bed and tossed her down.

  I began tearing her clothes off and flinging them across the room. Buttons went flying, zippers broke, silks and satins torn to shreds, till she lay there naked. We made love like two wild beasts…savage and violent.

  Of course, you’re shaking your head in disapproval, and I don’t blame you. But if you must know, we both were the better for it. She – utterly satisfied, and I….I was calm, once more.

  Again, she had been right about me…and I hated her all the more for it.

  We patched her wardrobe back together using a handful of safety pins I found in my junk drawer.

  When it came time to say good-bye, I held her close, we kissed. Again, she slipped her lower lip between my lips; but this time I bit down…hard! Blood ran down her chin.

  “Remember, mail the money within the week,” I ordered, “I’ll contact you…don’t you dare contact me. In fact, I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again…understand?”

  She left without saying a word.

  ***

>   “Tell me again why I have to do this job all by my lonesome and you get to go on a vacation?” Chi asked.

  “I told you, I’m not going on a vacation!” I insisted. “It’s strictly business; I’m going on a cruise with a client!”

  We sat on the park bench where we agreed to meet, just left of the great fountain in Central Park, facing the lake.

  “Anyway you look at it, I’m stuck with doing all the dirty work, again,” Chi fused.

  “Chi, you know I’m not good at that stuff, you’ll do better without me. Besides…you’re getting twenty thousand to my five.” I hadn’t mentioned to Chi there would be more money after the job’s completion.

  “Which reminds me,” I said, reaching into my breast pocket, pulling out an envelope and handing it to Chi. He placed it into his breast pocket.

  “Aren’t you going to count it?” I asked.

  “What for…I trust you.”

  “Now…here is the key to the back of the apartment building; so you won’t need to pass the front desk security. You can take the freight elevator to the top floor. Here is the key to their apartment. Trash the keys when you’re done with them.

  “Remember, Monica will be out of town starting Wednesday, Tom will be home every night…so, it’s you’re call.

  “Make it look like a robbery, take anything you want. Monica said all her better jewelry’s locked in their wall safe in the main bedroom. Tom keeps his jewelry and cash in a desk in his home office – it’s all yours – Monica couldn’t care less. And don’t forget to wear gloves…fingerprints, you know.”

  “Are you finished telling me my business?” snapped Chi, “Next job we get, I’ve got a good mind to let you do all the dirty work, and I can go on vacation!”

  “There isn’t going to be a Next Time,” I declared.

  “Yeah…sure,” Chi laughed.

  ***

  Margaret Ann made all the arrangements; she left nothing to chance, and everything was top of the line.