Flash Mob

by Gregory A Kompes

They all ate, still without speaking, heaping forkfuls into their mouths from the large-portioned plates of eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns, and butter slogged toast.

  As the food disappeared, Nancy Ann asked: "So, what's everyone's plans for their day off?"

  "I'm back to the office after breakfast," said the overworked Sara. "With today's event there will be a ton of stuff to do. Editing. YouTube. Answering emails. You know?"

  "Jericho never gives you a break, huh?" asked Nancy Ann with a subtle smirk that Sara didn't even notice. She felt Sara gave all women a bad name. In Nancy Ann's opinion, Sara was another doormat of a woman being taken advantage of by an opportunistic man. Sure, she loved Jericho and the career she had because of him, but women should be treated better and Nancy Ann knew that the only way to be treated with respect was to demand it. Yet, once again, she kept her thoughts to herself.

  "We're heading out of town for the day," said Hank. "I'm taking Bill on a surprise trip. He knows we're going, but not where." Hank poked Billy's side.

  "Very romantic," said Nancy Ann. She'd taken over the conversation as she took over everything. "And, how about you, boy?" she asked the chorus boy.

  "I'm going to spend the day at the Met. I've been dying to go see the paintings and stuff since I moved here. Today is the day."

  "Ooo, very nice. Would you like some company?" Nancy Ann asked. "The Metropolitan Museum of Art is one of my all-time favorite places in the city. I can give you my twenty-five cent tour if you'd like."

  The boy looked conflicted for a moment and shoved a forkful of hash browns into his mouth to avoid answering.

  "You don't have to take me along, of course. I was just offering," Nancy Ann said. She knew she could be overbearing at times. She frequently invited herself to all sorts of events when other's talked about them.

  "No, I think I'd like that, but I'm not sure. I have this image of exploring the galleries alone. Sort of a fantasy."

  Everyone was silent for a moment as they pictured themselves walking through the Met galleries for the first time, alone. It was almost a New York City rite of passage.

  "Well, take it from me," said Hank. "That's a great thing to do, for about five minutes. Then, because you don't know the place, well it gets boring. Then, twenty minutes later, you wish you had someone to share your experience with, someone to talk to about this painting or that mummy. But, because you're alone, it becomes a very lonely journey."

  "Really?" asked the boy, googly eyed to be in the presence of Hank Miller and Billy Lake.

  "Really," said Sara. That had been her first experience at the Met. She was still waiting for that perfect man who would suggest to her that they go there together.

  "Have to agree," said Billy. "Although, I also have to admit that I enjoy going alone to the Met sometimes. I have a few favorite paintings and I like to stop in and visit them from time to time."

  "Yes, but you don't spend the whole day there. You pop in for a half hour, see that one Van Gough and who else are they?"

  "A Seurat, a Lautrec, the—" said Billy.

  "You look at six or seven paintings and you're out. Our young friend here is talking about making a day of it. You'll certainly want someone along when you stop for overpriced coffee in the café." Hank looked toward Nancy Ann for confirmation. She stayed silent. "But, of course, as with all things, the decision is yours to make."

  "How about this," began the boy. "How about we go together. When we get our tickets, we agree to meet at the coffee shop, say an hour after we arrive. That will give me a chance to live out my fantasy and also have great company."

  The waitress dropped the check on the table and refilled all the coffee cups from the steaming pot in her hand.

  "Now, that sounds like the best plan I've ever heard," said Nancy Ann. She winked at the boy and prayed that he was straight. At least straight enough for the next day or two so she could get a little chorus boy bedroom fix. "So, which one of you big shots are buying us breakfast?"

  "Um, you're a stage manager, you probably make better money than any of us," said Hank.

  "Uh, I know your stage manager and he assures me that you're making more than he and I combined. So pony up," commanded Nancy Ann.

  "You got it doll," said Hank, giving her one of his famous, big-eyed winks. He dropped a hundred dollar bill on top of the check and handed it to the waitress who'd just filled his cup. "Keep the change, honey."

  The waitress took the money and check. She smiled at the $50 tip. "Thanks, Mr. Miller."

  "How did she know you?" Billy asked as the waitress waddled away.

  “Everyone knows the young, handsome, talented Hank Miller, Billy,” said Sara, poking a finger into his side. Billy playfully swatted her away.

  Hank ignored their antics, excited to tell the story. "When I first moved to the city I had a horrible shared apartment around the corner. It was more of a flophouse than an apartment, actually. Eight of us in a two bedroom! I came in here for breakfast every day. And, when I ran out of money, Betsy there kept me fed. She believed I'd make it. Now that I have, well, I like to thank her whenever I can."

  "I just love you. You're the best man in this entire city," Billy said, kissing Hank's cheek. "Don't you all just love him? Couldn't you all just eat him up?"

  "Billy, this is a bit much, even for you," said Nancy Ann.

  "Don't you just love her?" Billy said turning his attention toward the jaded stage manager, kissing Nancy Ann's cheek. "Don't you all just love her? Couldn't you just eat her up?"

  Everyone at the table laughed at Billy's antics. Ever since he'd hooked up with Hank, he was more open, more fun. No one doubted or questioned it. Billy Lake was most definitely in love. And, from the looks of things, Hank Miller was, too. They made a great couple. They'd finally finished with the fuck all the time phase of an infatuated relationship. Now, they were on to the being out in the world and showing off their love for each other to anyone who passed by. Of course, in New York City, that kind of behavior tends to piss off all the single people. And, since there are far more singles than couples, it pissed off a lot of people. But, for the moment, in this early stage of the relationship, those who were really their friends put up with it.

  They all gathered their belongings and headed for the door. The day was off to a great start and everyone, except for Sara, was ready to bump up their day off to the next level. Handshakes and kisses were exchanged on the street as all five of them headed off in their own directions back into the humming city.

  * * *

  Aamil stopped, breathless. He was alone on a lower eastside street. His lungs hurt from running. His body felt a little strange with the layers of clothing he wore. He liked the look of the sailor suit, but was glad that his long outer robe now concealed it.

  "I've done it," he said to himself. No one on the street took any notice of him at all. “I've danced with a group in New York. I've met them, other dancers and actors.” The guys had accepted him without any question. No one made a joke to his face about his heritage or wardrobe. Jericho, the nicest man he'd ever met, was pleased to have a guy from the Middle East in his Flash Mob. He said it right out loud to Aamil. He said he'd wished there were more great young dancers of similar decent that he could bring on board. He encouraged Aamil to talk to his friends and invite them to future Flash Mob rehearsals when they happened.

  Of course, Aamil knew that was impossible. If any of his "friends" found out that he'd done this he might be murdered on the street or in his sleep. He'd fraternized with the enemy, after all.

  The young man walked for a few blocks. He regained his normal breath. He felt good. As he walked he noticed that his posture was straighter, his mood was brighter. He passed store windows and thought about the possibility of just walking away, of leaving the life he knew, starting over. It wouldn't be possible to do that here in New York. The people who did know him would find him. He knew that he couldn't live a double life for long. In fact, knowing that the Flash Mob video from th
at morning would be on YouTube, probably before he made it home, caused a rush of fear to pass through his body.

  Aamil stopped. He felt a strong dread as the realization hit him. Anyone could see that video. While not likely, it was possible. His face could be anywhere on the internet by now. The Flash Mob videos, especially the New York Flash Mob videos, circulated quickly around the world. People loved them. "How could I have been so stupid?" Aamil asked his reflection in a shop window. The row of men's hats were at just the right height that it looked like his reflection was wearing a fedora.

  The young man reached into his pocket and felt around. He pulled out a handful of bills. There was what? Thirty, forty dollars? That's all he had to his name. He just couldn't go home. Or, could he? Could he just go home and take his chances? Would the others who might see the video not be able to recognize him? No one ever saw him in Western clothes. His head was rarely uncovered. His body was always covered. Aamil started to walk again. He didn't pay attention to where he walked, he just walked the streets of lower Manhattan as he contemplated his present and his future.

  * * *

  Billy and Hank had been in the hired car for thirty minutes. They'd driven up to and over the George Washington Bridge. Hank refused to offer any hints or clues about their destination. The car made a u-turn and returned to cross back over the bridge into Manhattan.

  "Hank, what's going on?"

  "You'll see," was all the man said to his friend.

  They made a few turns and stopped in front of a large apartment building.

  "Where are we?" Billy asked.

  "Inwood," said Hank. He opened the door, got out of the car, and waited for Billy to join him on the street. Across from them was a large, hilly green park.

  "I've never been up here before. Are we still in New York?"

  "Silly boy," said Hank. "Of course we're still in New York. Hell, we're still in Manhattan." Hank led the way into the building, Billy followed. Hank had a key that gave them entrance to the lobby. The space was clean and shiny with Art Deco fixtures, marble floors, and columns.

  "It's lovely," Billy said, amazed at the grandeur of the space.

  They rode the elevator to the fifth floor, the top floor. The hallway was just as grand as the lobby with its polished marble, heavy dark wood doors, and artwork on the walls. Hank stopped at apartment 5F. "Are you ready?" he asked his friend.

  "Ready for what, Hank?"

  Hank opened the door with a key. The apartment was huge. Parquet floors, high ceilings, picture rails. It was like walking back in time. The two boys wandered the apartment with its living room, formal dining room, oversized kitchen, and four bedrooms. There seemed to be bathrooms and closets everywhere.

  "I signed the lease yesterday morning. It's mine and, if you're interested, it could be ours." Hank beamed. "Did you see the view?" He led the way to French doors that opened to a nice sized, stone encircled balcony with a view of the park across the street.

  "Are you suggesting we move in together? Live together?" Billy asked as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend.

  "I don't want to push you or pressure you, but yes."

  Billy turned into Hanks arms and gently pressed his lips into Hanks. He’d intended it just to be a moment, a joyous moment punctuated with a simple kiss. But, Hank pulled tighter to Billy. He whispered, “So it’s a yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead pushing his crotch hard into Billy, grinding their two enlarging cocks together.

  Again, Billy kissed Hank, this time harder. He wanted to undress him, button by button, but Hank was holding him too tight. Billy gave in, going with the moment, allowing Hank to be in control of the situation. The kissed even harder, taking turns allowing each other’s tongues to explore, all the while, the heat grew between them. Finally, unable to sustain it any longer, Hank released Billy. Both men fumbled recklessly for the other’s belts, buttons, and zippers. They dropped to their knees, finished releasing each other’s cocks, and dropped into a sixty-nine position on the shiny parquet floors. Greedily, they sucked each other, trying to hold back their own moment of release. As if choreographed, both men arched their backs and clenched their asses, and exploded together into each other’s mouths. Neither pulled back, instead swallowing their mate’s salty, sticky semen and clamping all the harder on to each other’s cocks. They both continued to offer pleasure and then discomfort to each other. It was now a game to see who couldn’t take it first.

  It took all of Billy’s will to pull away. His cock head was so sensitive after coming that he finally had no choice but to cry uncle and give up first. He playfully, but solidly pushed hank away from his crotch. They both rolled onto their backs and gasped for air. Neither moved for a moment to face the other, instead drawing back into the room and reality that was unfolding before them.

  Nineteen

  Jericho and Billy sat drinking coffee. The morning sunshine filled the room with a pleasant warmth belying the freezing temperatures on the opposite side of the pane of glass. The spring was offering one more lion day before it ended. Each man read a section of the Times in silence.

  "Jericho," said Billy.

  "Huh?" Jericho didn't look up from the article about yesterday's terrorist bombing of a warehouse in Queens. No one was killed, although a transit cop had been injured by flying shrapnel as a train passed. The destroyed space was used to store military uniforms produced in a nearby factory.

  "Yesterday's Flash Mob made the paper." Billy turned his section toward Jericho who stopped reading one article and began reading the other.

  "Well, that's wonderful."

  Again the men were silent, only now Jericho was the only one reading. Billy watched him, his hair morning mussed, his unshaven stubble, the cigarette in his fingers curling smoke up into the sunshine, his slightly open robe revealing a soft mat of salt and pepper chest hair matching that on his head.

  "It's all over the Web, too," said Jericho as he turned the section of the paper with the Mob story back toward Billy. "Going with a costumed theme to match the event was a terrific idea. Thank you for that." Their eyes connected. Jericho wanted to say more, but didn't.

  "You're welcome," said Billy. He dropped his head to the paper; a soft smile lingered on his lips.

  "So, you and your new boyfriend taking a break? Has the flame been extinguished?" He was outwardly playful, hopeful in his heart.

  "No, we both just needed to get some sleep," said Billy. He felt his neck turn warm. What was the protocol, he wondered. Here he was talking about the love of his life with a man he still had feelings for. He considered, just for a moment, pursuing Jericho one last time. Now, in this slight moment. They could finally have sex. He could discover if his fantasies of being fucked by Jericho would match reality. It would be a one-time thing, just an hour or so. No one would have to know about it. He breathed deeply and thought about Hank. He didn’t want to cheat on him. They’d never said they were exclusive. No, he loved Hank and didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship. How would he tell Jericho that he and Hank were moving in together.

  "I hear ya. Ah, young, hot love. There's nothing like it." Jericho didn't sound hurt or offended. He didn't sound old or condescending either. It was just his usual, fun tone.

  The two continued sneaking looks at each other. Without talking, the moment felt awkward to Billy. "What about the guy you were with yesterday?"

  "He has early classes on Tuesday, so he stayed at the dorm last night." As he spoke, the ridiculousness of the statement embarrassed Jericho.

  They both looked hard at each other; neither offered an expression, just two blank-slate faces trying to figure out the other.

  "We've been talking about moving in together, but it seems so soon. Still, we spend all our time together. But, there's also the issue of his mother," Billy blurted out.

  "He still lives with his mother?" Jericho didn't attempt to hide his smirk.

  "Every other month she stays with him. He and his sist
er share her. I'm not sure why exactly, she's certainly able bodied and could live on her own."

  "Who knows why children do what they do for their parents. Look at how you coddled your own so they'd come see you in a show." Jericho said it without judgment. He missed his own parents, long dead. They'd never come to one of his shows. They'd never acknowledged or accepted his sexuality. Yet, he'd still do just about anything to see them again.

  "I know," said Billy. He felt the heat once again rise into his neck.

  "Well, the two of you could look for a bigger place, one with enough room for all three of you," Jericho said.

  "I was thinking about that, but it seems like a fast, big commitment. We've only known each other a short time." Billy was afraid to tell Jericho that that's what Hank had done. He'd found a large apartment with a layout that would give them all space and privacy, even when his mother visited.

  Again the men were silent in their thoughts. Jericho would be sad when the boy left his home. It was the longest he'd ever lived with a man. He liked having Billy there, that their relationship, with its sexual tension, wasn't reliant on sex allowed his feelings go even deeper. Maybe he’d turn his home into a boarding house for wayward male actors. The silly thought made him smile.

  Billy's mind flashed from love for Hank to admiration for Jericho. He thought about small living quarters and big apartments. He wanted a large apartment of his own. He wanted space of his own, that was something he'd never had in his life. He moved from his parent's home into a shared New York City apartment. Now he'd been living with Jericho for months. With one decision, he'd go from here to Hank's. Was this how it was meant to be? He thought about going back to college. He thought about his needy parents and the love and support his father showed in the car on the way to the airport. He saw himself, smiling widely, tap dancing on stage with Hank, the two of them enjoying adoration and applause from an admiring and appreciated audience.

  "Where did you go, boy?" Jericho asked softly.