The Middle Man [A Broadway Romance]

by Gregory A Kompes

  “Hate to miss a drop,” he said, crawling up me and kissing me hard. The taste of me heavy on his tongue.

  He pulled away from me and smiled. “Good morning, Daddy.”

  “Good morning, Boy.” The words were barely audible.

  Sam stood and headed into the bathroom. The running water called to me.

  A moment later Malcolm knocked on the door.

  "I'm telling you," Sam whispered from the bathroom doorway, wiping his mouth with a towel, “the old perv listens at the door." The boy winked. "Shower time," he sang out, closing the door behind him.

  I adjusted my robe as a second knock intruded. "Yes," I said.

  The bedroom door barely opened. Malcolm popped his head through the slit. "Sir."

  "Come in, Malcolm. What is it?" I lit a cigarette and snapped the Zippo lid open and closed a few times, enjoying the clink.

  The butler carried a tray with Diet Cokes, glasses with ice, a plate of snack-sized sandwiches. “Sir,” he whispered in a conspiratorial way. “I've received a message from King Odolon. He said he couldn't reach you on your usual line. I told him you were with a, ah hem, client."

  Malcolm actually said "ah hem." Cheeky bastard.

  I took both cans of soda and headed for my office. "Would you please bring Sam up another can or two?" I didn't wait for his response, knowing it would be affirmative. It was his job after all.

  Something had happened over the past day or two. I didn't know what it was, but Sam and Malcolm were having a catty bitch fight. I could only guess that Sam put the moves on Malcolm. I can't tell you the outcome, not really. And, I’ve never witnessed or partaken of Malcolm’s sexual prowess. As straight as most men are, and I’m rather sure Malcolm is straight, most men will take a blow job whenever they can get one. And, Sam's rather good at them, so you can't blame the poor bastards.

  I decided years ago that I wasn't getting in the middle of my butler and my tricks. No matter how great the sex with the boy du jour, a good butler is hard to find. For me, Malcolm always comes out on top, if you'll pardon the pun.

  I entered the office, closed the door behind me. I thought for a moment and turned the lock. This was state business after all. I spun my faithful Rolodex; it gave me a thrill knowing that this old-fashioned card system couldn’t be hacked like most of today’s current technology. I found the King's card and translated the phone code. I coded the numbers so only I would know what they were, just in case anyone ever got hold of my client list. I think one of the tricks a few years back might have actually been a spy from Brazil. Of course, I love a good fantasy, so it might have only been in my head. That swarthy boy loved to fuck. Add a little intrigue and fantasy to the mix, it's the stuff of James Bond.

  "Duke Donovan," I said when the phone was answered. Two clicks.

  "Duke, so sorry to bother you," King Odolon chirped into my ear.

  For a major dictator, it's amazing how girlish his voice came over the phone lines.

  "Not at all, Sir. How may I assist you?" He laid out his dilemma, waited. "May I be perfectly honest, Your Royal Highness?" He said I could. "Sir, I'm not getting a clear image of what to tell you. I'm rather certain it's because you're not telling me the whole truth. It seems she's not the only one cheating. It seems to me that this event had more to do with revenge than sex." I waited. I hated contradicting King Odolon. He was a dictator and could easily have me murdered.

  "It's true. I, how do you American's say it, I fucked her sister. But, I am King. I own everything and everyone in my lands."

  "While you may possess them, Sir, everyone still has free will and free thought. We've talked about this before if you remember? While they may appear to follow your rules, there's little that you can do about their thoughts."

  "There's more than you know, Mr. Donovan." He turned curt.

  We were both silent. We knew we'd both crossed over our boundaries.

  "Do you love your wife, Sir?"

  Another long silence.

  "Yes." The response was quiet, but honest.

  "Sir, you must forgive each other," I said. "Wait. Yes, you must forgive each other," I turned another card from the deck, this one representing the future. "Yet—"

  "What, man? What must be done?"

  "You must not kill…" I thought for a word which King Odolon supplied:

  "Her lover?" he asked.

  "You must not kill him. If you do…"

  "Duke, what is it?"

  "It will be the end of your regime. Her lover has connections that you don't know about.”

  “I have more connections than anyone.”

  I ignored the king’s comment, instead continuing to translate the message from my guides. “He's not the peasant he appears to be. The truth is that he was using her to gain inside information about you. What must be done is that you must travel, just you and your wife—"

  "Alone? Absurd!"

  "Well, Sir, you, your wife, and your usual entourage. But, not all the usual players. Anyone you've slept with should not come along. And, anyone that you know your wife has…"

  "There are others?"

  "Sir, I've asked you to be honest," I said, sounding more like a father than a subordinate to a world ruler.

  "I understand," he responded childlike to my tone.

  "No grudges. Go somewhere romantic. Enjoy a few days alone in your boudoir. Remember together what it was like to be young and lusty, Your Highness. When you return to the palace, this other man will be gone. You'll have changed direction. You'll make different choices about the future and the future will continue to unfold." I felt my spirit guides tune down. I knew we were done with this topic.

  "Understood."

  We were silent.

  "Duke, there's something else," whispered the king.

  "Hold on, Sir." I shuffled the deck to cleanse it. "Ask." I closed my eyes, listened, shuffled the deck. I didn't need the cards. King Odolon waited for an American city’s lottery numbers. "27, 3, 5, 19, 8, 61, 13."

  "If I win, I'll split it with you," he said with a chuckle. "Or no, there's a certain painting you mentioned wanting."

  I was silent.

  "Your fee will be wired to your account. A gift will hopefully arrive soon. I am forever grateful. If you ever require my services, please, please don't hesitate to ask."

  "You are very kind, Your Royal Highness. I hope you enjoy your little vacation."

  We rang off.

  I pulled up the screen for my Swiss account and watched as the numbers increased substantially.

  Chapter Five

  Getting a boardinghouse room was easier than I thought. They didn't ask for identification. I paid a month in advance, in cash. Because I’d left home in a rush, I didn’t have a birth certificate; it was easy to get a fake ID from one of those seedy, Times Square shops. After some consideration, I chose to get one with my real name: Duke Donovan. Next on the agenda: a bank account. The lady at the bank gladly took that wad of hundred dollar bills and opened a new checking account for me, no questions asked.

  I slept through the day, met men by night. I'd read their cards. We'd sleep together. I got paid. My client base and sexual knowledge expanded.

  Something strange happened. The readings shifted. I felt tingling sensations in my body; I got light headed. The information I shared with the Johns wasn't stuff I was making up. I knew things about them. I saw scenes of these guys in my head. This knowing freaked out some of them, others loved it. I stopped sleeping with most of them, instead, only providing tarot card readings. I still got paid. My client base grew.

  Nightmares of the murder stopped haunting me. It was, after all, self-defense. It became, in time, self-reliance.

  "Duke?" Sam used his sexy voice.

  I rolled over toward him. "Yes?"

  "Would you be willing to read my cards?" He didn't look at me.

  "Of course," I said, placing my hand on his hairy chest, running my finger around a nipple. He shuddered a little.

  "You
've never offered before." Sam still didn't look at me.

  "You've never asked," I countered, moving my finger to the other exposed nipple, giving it equal time. I enjoyed having full access to his broad chest with those undersized areolas and nipples.

  "I didn't know if it was appropriate." He was very serious.

  "We could do it now if you'd like." I kissed his shoulder.

  "Really?" He got excited and sat up, finally looking at me. "I would love that."

  I rolled over and out of bed, hit the button for Malcolm. By the time I had my robe on Malcolm knocked on the door and entered. "Yes, Sir?"

  "Malcolm, can you please bring up some Diet Coke and my cards."

  "Your personal cards, Sir, or the client cards?" He was shocked that I'd asked for my own cards and wanted to clarify.

  "My cards," I said lighting a cigarette.

  "Right away, Sir," he said, leaving the room.

  "What was that about?" Sam asked getting out of bed. "I've never seen the old boy look so frightened."

  "I never expose my cards to others, but I want to use them for you. You're not a client after all, and my guides are telling me that it's the right thing to do, the correct deck to use."

  I went to the large, round table and cleared everything off of it. Sam sat on the edge of the bed; he watched. I lit a candle and placed it in the center of the table. It felt more dramatic than I'd intended it. The truth is my guides don't require rituals. They like things to be more organic, to just flow. But, I liked candles, and one of my guides enjoyed them, too.

  Most psychic's have help from entities and spirits that reside in the realm beyond ours. I don't actually have a good name for that place. And, they've never been forthcoming with an explanation of it. I've asked. They've tried to explain it, but the truth seems to be that their place really is something those of us in physical form can't fully comprehend. I gave up trying to understand it, trying to picture it long ago.

  Malcolm returned with a knock. He placed the tray of beverages on the side table. Along with the drinks was a ornately carved, ancient wooden box I’d bought at an auction many years before while traveling through Italy. The butler left.

  "He looked a bit ashen," Sam said, joining me at the table.

  Ignoring his comment, I motioned for Sam to join me. We sat at the table across from each other. I took the box from the tray, removed the tarot deck from within, and sat the box back on the side table. I shuffled the deck of old, worn cards three times. As I shuffled, I started an internal dialog with my guides. I conveyed my intention in my thoughts and by the third shuffle my mind was clear, empty really.

  I enjoy that sensation. I like when my mind is free of stray thoughts. This was how I opened the channel between our physical world and the realm where my guides reside.

  "I'm going to hand you the cards. Please take a moment and think about what you'd like to know. This might be a question of importance or information of a great or more general nature. Once the thought or question is clear in your mind, repeat it three times as you work the cards. You don't need to shuffle them as you've seen me do, but instead mix them as you'd like. Do you understand?"

  Sam looked from my eyes to the cards and back again. "This all seems so serious all of a sudden." His eyes sparkled, but his face was drawn down, his lips firmly-set.

  "Everyone reads the tarot in their own way. I take the messages very seriously, although we can have fun as we read." I tried to lighten up a little, but it didn't work well. It felt forced. So, I steadied my mind again. "One thing I can tell you is that it will be a better reading if you're open to the experience. If you're not, we don't have to do this right now. If you're closed or afraid, we won't have a good reading."

  "I don't know if I want you to know everything about my future." He looked down at the cards again to avoid making eye contact with me.

  I didn't expect that statement or reaction. My guides urged me forward with the reading. "I think you'll find the information I have to give you helpful," I said warmly, I could feel the growing energy between all of us—Sam, me, and my team of guides. It began with the slightest tingle in my scalp; now, my whole body was charged with the energy flowing from my team of spirit guides and angels.

  Sam reached for the cards. I handed them to him.

  We were silent.

  He closed his eyes. He shuffled the cards three times. It amused me to see his lips move gently as he asked the cards his question. I took them back and held them in both of my hands for a moment. They felt warm to my touch; my guides were buzzing, a feeling I absolutely love.

  I began laying out cards in the traditional ten-card, Celtic cross spread. Some card readers place all ten cards out, face down, and then turn them, one at a time. I followed the method of my mentor, taking the first card from the top of the deck and revealing it, and then the next, and so on.

  The first card, a representation of Sam, was the King of Pentacles.

  “This card represents you. It shows that you’re intellectual, rational, and emotional, yet, most of the time, you’re overly cautious, especially about your career.”

  “I’ve never seen cards like these,” he said.

  I could tell he wasn’t ignoring what I’d said, yet it seemed that he was avoiding it. My team urged me to continue. I flipped the next card. The 8 of Wands crosses you. This represents the current situation, or the problem you’ve asked about. It represents perfection and success. New birth and a joy of living are also associated with this card. What I see you seeking is greater personal success. Working on your own projects instead of sitting in a pit playing the music of others.”

  As I spoke, Sam looked up at me. His eyes were wide. “That’s exactly what I want. That’s what my question was about.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything. We’ll just keep flipping cards.” I turned the next card. “This position represents the root of the problem.”

  “I’ve never seen cards like these before,” Sam said again. As he spoke, he picked up the third card I’d placed, The Tower.

  Again, I didn’t respond to his comment about the cards. I didn’t want this to be a conversation about my past, but instead one about Sam’s future. “The Tower represents harmony, happiness, serenity. In this position, giving the reason for the problem you seek an answer to, it represents a fear that needs to be overcome by you to receive success.

  Sam replaced the card in its proper position without speaking.

  “The next card represents the immediate past, what led to the issue or problem.” I turned the card: 3 of Pentacles. “While you’re probably feeling weariness and indecision, this card shows that the hard work you’ve been doing has been paving the way for your success. You’ve truly been paying your dues. So, it’s not of major concern. This period of the journey is coming to completion.” I watched his face; he looked intently down at the cards. Card five represents your goal, dreams, and the best outcome available at this moment to you.” I turned over 2 of Chalices. “If you respect the natural laws, you will find well-being derived from meditation on the sublime arts. You will discover your greatness, and others will discover it, too.”

  I didn’t look at Sam. I was now one with the cards and the messages from my team. I wanted to simply tell him what I was getting. Give him all of it. But, we’d begun and the process must be completed.

  “Next is what will happen next; not the final outcome, but the next step. 6 of Chalices. There will be an increase in your will and energy. But, I warn you that you won’t find success without help from at least one other. You may go through this phase of your journey feeling a little lost or lonely. Yet, your desire for a serene and fulfilling outcome will act as your motivation.”

  The man across from me now looked very sad and said: “This isn’t looking good for me then.”

  “On the contrary. Knowing that finding others to help you will make your journey and path a bit smoother and less lonely is a good thing. You now know you don’t have to go t
hrough this time alone.”

  “Is the card speaking of you?”

  I listened for comment from my team. “No. While I’m not going anywhere, I’m not the help you seek for this next phase of your career.” I turned the next card and did my best to hide my shock and sadness. “This 9 of Pentacles indicates you and how you’ll be approaching this situation. This card represents a reawakening, a return to the past. You’ll finally have to face some personal demons if you’re to find your way through this time and it won’t be easy.” I quickly turned the next card. “This 3 of Wands represents your personal space, your workspace, and environment. Observe, reflect, and keep silent. Think about where you’re headed, but don’t advertise it too much. Choose who you talk to about this carefully. You’re headed toward realization and fulfillment of your desires.”

  “I’m so confused by all of this,” said Sam. He looked like he might cry.

  “Hold on. Let’s turn the next two cards and then we’ll talk more about what I’m getting. “This next position represents your hopes and fears. 1 of Swords. These two men holding the sword represent an alliance that brings victory. The last card is the final outcome of the current situation. The Hierophant. You’ll be victorious, but it will mean paying a price. You’ll need to control your emotions and your feelings. You’ll be spending a lot of time alone to achieve your desires.

  When I finished with the tenth card I looked at the entire spread laid face up on the table. I began telling more of the story as I saw it. I offered information about a new, hit show that Sam would create and then mount on Broadway. With each passing minute my spirit guides showed me more and more connections between the cards and the other people involved—past, present, and future—in the creation of this work of art. Finally, I asked, "Do you have any questions?"

  "I don't know anything about a new show," he said. “I was wondering if I’ll get to play Little Shop.