After that, the gifts came nearly every week…a solid-gold money clip, cigarette case, lighter, a tie clip with a ruby, diamond rings, and much more. Each gift accompanied by large sums of money, to sway me from selling any of them. So, I banked the cash, and kept the gifts.
In all my years as a gigolo, I thought I heard every scenario of denial for giving me money in exchange for my services; but Justine had found a new one. Unbeknown to Justine, she had become a client.
***
One particular Saturday night, when Justine had to fulfill her wifely duties and accompany her husband to a business dinner, I decided to take in a late night movie. There was a slight chill in the air, but the weather had been turning for the better; so, after the show, I decided to walk home. It was pitch black in the stairwell leading up to my studio.
The bulb burned out, I thought.
As I entered the darkened atrium, someone lunged at me, their hands pressed against my chest, pushing me back out onto the street. It took a moment for me to recover; he stepped out into the light.
“Harold!” I exclaimed, “What are you doing here…and what’s with all the shoving?”
“I was just trying to get your attention, Alex. Lately, your mind seems focused on other matters…other than business, that is.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Don’t play games with me, Alex; you know damn well what I’m talking about…Mrs. Hutchinson…remember?”
“I thought we decided I could take as much time with her as I wanted, up to six months!”
“And so we did, my boy; and I don’t mind postponing my profit intake on this job, so you can do whatever it is you’re doing. But I would like some photos of you and her in an incriminating situation…sort of a guarantee I’ll have something to sell to the husband in six months. Now, I’ve got scores of photos of the two of you holding hands in public, walking arm in arm through the park, and I’ve dozens and dozens of her entering and leaving your studio. But I need those bedroom photos!”
“I don’t understand why you need them, now?” I insisted.
“Like I said, it’s just to keep up the goodwill between us; I promise I won’t disclose them till you tell me I can.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
“Don’t see, Alex, just do it!”
Then a devious smile appeared on his face, he turned his head slightly, looking at me in the strangest of manner.
“What are you up to? Why is this woman any different from all the others? Why are you spending all your time with her? You must be making lots of money on this one?”
Then he moved in closer toward me, his Cheshire Cat smile was inches from my face.
“Or is there something else…something more precious than gold? Could it be our sweet young Alex is in love? No…couldn’t be…he’s too smart for that. At least we hope he is.
“Do you know how old she is, Alex? Next time she comes over, sneak a look at her driver’s license…then add twenty…no ten…just add ten years to the number you find; and try to imagine what she’ll look like then.
“But what am I going on like this for? You’d never be that stupid, now, would you, Alex?” He smiled.
“Goodnight, Harold,” I said coldly as I walked around him and toward my front door.
“Don’t forget my photos! I’ll give you one week,” were his last words; he walked off and out of sight.
“Go to hell, Harold!” I shouted into the darkness.
***
The venetian blinds were down and opened only a sliver; the setting sun shone through, coating the bedroom with alternate strips of dark and light. Justine and I lay on the bed motionless; our naked bodies haphazardly entangled. Exhausted from an afternoon of lovemaking, we drifted off to that place neither awake nor asleep, but some limbo between.
“I’m thirsty…I want some wine…are you thirsty…would you like some wine?” I asked, smacking my lips.
“Only if you’re having some,” she mumbled dreamily.
A moment passed and neither one of spoke or moved.
“Well…?” I questioned.
“Well…what?”
“Well, aren’t you going to get up and get us wine? That’s why I asked if you wanted some.”
“Slave driver!” she declared, rising from the bed. “Take that!” She slapped her hand down on my bare stomach.
I bent up from the blow, just in time to watch her walk off; I enjoyed watching her naked body.
She wasn’t gone long; but it was just long enough to have an epiphany.
Now, understand, there have always been two things I have tried to avoid all my life, one is volunteering, the other is telling the truth. When you volunteer, you wind up in all sorts of places and circumstances, ones contrary to your idea of what is good and pleasant.
As for telling the truth, it always leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and a yearning to take it back. So, voluntarily telling the truth would be outside my ability. Still, that’s exactly what I did. Why I said what I said that day is beyond me. Perhaps, what Harold said about you-know-what was true? Whatever…I said what I said.
Justine returned with two glasses of wine; when I say glasses I mean we had long forgone tiny wineglasses and recently started using large cocktail glasses to hold our drinks.
“Here you go, honey.” She handed me my drink.
I sat up in bed, she sat down beside me.
“Justine, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What…that you love me…I already know that!” She laughed.
“Good…then I won’t have to tell you,” I said, poking at her in fun. “No…really…this is serious…we need to talk.”
She said not a word; a serious look washed over her face.
“Do you know what I do for a living?” I asked.
She looked at me for a moment like I was crazy.
“Of course…you seduce older, rich married women and they pay large sums of money to have your glorious body,” she said, wrapping her arms around me, and kissing my chest. “But now, this glorious body is all mine, alone.” She kissed me all across my chest.
“That’s true,” I said, “But it’s not all I do.”
“Huh?” she muttered. She lifted her head to look me in the eye.
I didn’t say a word; I rose from the bed and walked over to the full-length mirror; I turned it around, disclosing the camera housing.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a camera; and this is a two-way mirror. I not only seduce women, I take photos of it and sell them back to the husbands.”
“And…?” she asked cautiously.
“And your husband hired me to seduce you and get it on film, so he can divorce you.”
She didn’t say a word; she walked over to me slowly, and slapped me across the face, hard.
“I’d leave right now, if I didn’t know you loved me,” she said.
“I know,” I said in shame, “I haven’t even put film in the damn thing. I would never do that to you.”
“I know,” she said bluntly.
We stood there, naked, waiting for an answer that would never come. Strips of light and dark that engulfed the room began to fade as the sun sank below the New York skyline.
“So, where do we go from here?” I asked softly.
“We get back into bed and make love as if nothing else matters…because it doesn’t,” she whispered.
We moved like dancers in a ballet that had no tempo, we fell down on the bed, as if it were a cloud. She fell into my arms like a puzzle piece when it snaps into place.
“There is one other thing,” I said softly.
She said not a word, and waited for my conviction.
“I kill people,” I whispered tenderly into her ear.
I felt her body move; she placed her lips close to my cheek, “That could come in handy,” she breathed into my ear.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“The Gift Horse bites do
wn”
For the past three days, Texas Ranger Dan Parker had been riding…riding hard. He was still heading south, as the sun began to set in the west. Colors of orange, red and purple flooded the prairie sky. Shadows of the tall barrel cactus grew longer by the minute. He had eaten nothing for the past three days, save for Mexican dust. His horse was starting to froth at the mouth from exhaustion. It was time to stop…just for a short time…just long enough to rejuvenate, and then continue.
Off to his right in the distance he could see a small Mexican village. He could make it there before sunset.
He rode into town slowly; it was like a thousand other small Mexican villages. He made his way to the heart of town. Surely there would be a cantina, the social center of the village, someplace where he could get a shot or two of Tequila and some information: such as where could he find some water and oats for his horse, and somewhere he could find a bed for the night. But especially, was there any word of the whereabouts of Juan Vega.
Juan Vega was a small-time bandito, a fly in the ointment, nothing to get your shorts in a bind about. But now he overstepped his bounds; he robbed the Santa Cruz Citizen’s Bank in Texas, along the Mexican Border.
Texas Ranger Dan Parker hated going below the Mexican Border in pursuit of a criminal; but he wholeheartedly volunteered to go after Vega. They ordered Parker to bring back Vega dead or alive. It didn’t matter to them, but it mattered to Parker. Nothing would bring him more satisfaction than to bring Vega back dead; his limp dead body slung over his horse.
Parker made his way to the center of this nameless village; and sure enough, there was the cantina. Parker stopped; he dismounted and tied his horse to the post in front of the cantina. He couldn’t believe his good luck. There was the horse of Juan Vega tied to the post.
Parker cocked his gun, but left it in his holster. There was no door leading into the cantina, just a doorway –a gaping hole in the center of an adobe wall. Parker walked in slowly; it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was a lone bartender, and a small group of old men at a table playing dominoes. Seated at a table at the farthest end of the cantina was Vega, in one hand he held a shot of Tequila, the other arm was around a robust, big-breasted, brown-eyed, Mexican beauty –obviously an employee of the cantina.
“Vega!” shouted Parker, standing in the doorway.
In a flash, Vega dropped the shot-glass and reached for his gun, with his other hand he pulled the young woman in front of him as a shield. Shots went off! Vega, being in a poor position, missed his mark. Parker got off two shots, one sadly found its way to the heart of the poor young woman, the other into Vegas’ gun-hand. The woman’s body fell to the floor, as did Vegas’s gun. The four old men playing dominoes were out the door in an instant.
“Okay, Vega, raise your hands up, slowly,” said Parker.
A moment went by; nothing changed, Vega sat there mummified.
“I said, reach for the ceiling,” shouted Parker.
Still nothing…there was no movement from Vega.
“He doesn’t understand English,” said the bartender as his head slowly popped up from behind the bar.
“Then you translate for me,” demanded Parker. “Tell him to raise his hands.”
The bartender said a few words in Spanish, and Vega complied.
“Tell him this, word for word,” said Parker, “Tell him, nothing would bring me more pleasure than to shoot him right here and now. Tell him, I want to know where the money is; and if he doesn’t tell me…if he doesn’t come clean…I’ll blow his damn head off.”
The bartender turned to Vega and interpreted what Parker said.
“The Gringo says if you don’t tell him where the money is he is going to kill you.”
With his hands held high, Vega answered, “Tell him, there is a well at the edge of town, the third rock from the top on the north side, I placed the money behind that rock. For mercy’s sake, tell him that!”
The bartender turned to Parker. “He says he will never tell you were the money is; he would rather die.”
“If that’s the way he wants it, I’d be glad to oblige,” said Dan Parker, Texas Ranger, as he pulled back on the trigger.
***
Both Chi and I knew the type of person Harold was. To him, lying wasn’t something deceitful, it was just good business. For me, there was comfort in the fact I could always trust Harold to be untrustworthy. As for Chi, it bothered him to no end.
I had been ignoring Chi for weeks, as I had been ignoring the rest of the world, since Justine and I became an item. When my answering service relayed a message from Chi to call him on an urgent matter concerning life and death, I took the giant step out of my little world and phoned him back.
“Well, if it isn’t the mysterious stranger? What’s the occasion that you honor me with a phone call?” Chi said, once he recognized my voice.
“You phoned me,” I said, “You said it was life or death.”
“Oh, that…what do you expect…you never answer my calls…I had to do something to make you call me.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.”
“You’re too busy for your brother?”
Oh…now we’re family again? I thought.
“What’s with you and that Hutchison woman, anyway?” he asked.
“She’s just a hard nut to crack.” I was lying, of course.
“But you haven’t called me in weeks,” Chi grumbled.
He went on like that for nearly five minutes, about how I was ignoring him. As if I were being made to explain my actions to a jealous lover or a disgruntled wife. I was far too uncomfortable with the conversation, so I forcibly changed its direction.
“Enough, Chi, just tell me why you wanted me to phone you?”
“It’s Harold; he’s called a special meeting at his office. He says it’s important…life or death.”
“So, now it’s a life-or-death message from Harold?” Understandably, I sounded put off.
“Yeah…tomorrow, at ten in the morning…meet me in the lobby of the Empire State Building…that is, if you can break away from your sweetheart for five minutes?” He was pouting, again. I decided it best to just ignore his whining.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Chi.” I hung up.
***
Chi was already there and waiting for me when I arrived. Being a Sunday, there were few people around, save for a handful of tourists who were buying tickets to ride the elevators to the top of the building; but because of the heavy rains, it was a small handful.
“Alex, long time, no see.” There was a smile on Chi’s face.
“There better be a good reason for all this,” I complained.
“Why…you have other pressing engagements? Oh…that’s right…you’re married, now…I forgot…right?” he laughed.
“Cut it, will you?” His needling got to me; I started feeling on edge. “Let’s just go,” I said.
“Why don’t we take the stairs up to the second or third floor and then take the elevator from there?” suggested Chi.
“What the hell for?” I questioned.
“Just to be on the safe side.”
“The safe side of what?”
“Oh…Alex…just do it!”
He started toward the stairwell; I followed close behind. We caught the elevator on the third floor, took it up three flights below the floor Harold was on; we took the stairwell up the remaining floors.
“This is ridiculous,” I was huffing out my words when we approached the final landing.
“Trust me; It’s best we take precautions,” said Chi.
Precautions…for what? I thought. I was becoming suspicious of the situation.
“Now, let me do all the talking,” Chi whispered to me, as we stood before the door of Harold’s office. My suspicions were growing with each passing moment. He reached over and tapped his knuckles on the glass of the door.
“Yes, who is it?” Harold called from inside.
“
It’s us,” replied Chi, “It’s Chi and Alex.”
“Come on in, it’s open.”
We entered, we found Harold seated behind his desk, he smiled and he rose to greet us.
“Boys…good to see you; sit down, sit down.” He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. He sat down, when we did. “So, what did I do to deserve the honor of this unexpected visit?”
At hearing that, I shot a glance at Chi who just smiled.
He told me Harold called us together; he lied to me. My suspicions now turned to fear.
“There’s a little business we need to talk over.” There was a mocking quality to Chi’s voice.
“Oh, and what is that?” Harold asked, trying to sound friendly, it was always obvious whenever he was trying to sound friendly. “Can we make this fast, I’ve some business to attend to.” He pointed to the door leading to his dark room.
“Oh…more photos to develop, aye, Harold?” laughed Chi.
Harold declined the opportunity to speak any further about his coveted photo taking and his prized dark room.
“So, what business do we need to talk about?”
“It’s about the way we split the money!” said Chi.
“Oh…and what about it? We agreed to split everything three ways, with me getting a slightly higher percentage, for allowing you boys more time to…how should we put this…more time to pillage?”
“Well, that’s right,” claimed Chi. “But the percentage is not the problem. The problem is the money that’s being taking in….by you…and not shared…with us!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Harold sounded offended.
At this point in the conversation, I’m sorry and ashamed to say, I became impotent…incapacitated…preoccupied with something other than the discussion at hand.
The rain tapping against the windowpane caught my attention. I looked out the window at the New York skyline draped in the foreboding black of the storm. Off in the distance, I could see the Chrysler Building, the same building my father pointed out to me many years ago from the top-floor observatory of the very same building I was in at that very moment.
Memoirs of a Gigolo Page 20
