“No, I’ll be fine. If push comes to shove, I’ll just pull up my skirt They’ll stop! You get over there and talk to that fine man.”
“I love you.”
“I know”
I walked out of the bar with JJ and noticed comforting snowflakes dancing hypnotically as they fell to the sidewalk and began to accumulate. The cold wind felt good. JJ blew a kiss as she climbed into a yellow taxi heading uptown. I started back toward the bar, where Quinn was standing in the same spot, guarding my briefcase and coat I noticed he had a big smile as I walked in his direction.
“That was sweet of you,” Quinn said.
“What?”
“I saw what you did, giving Janelle money for a cab. She was pretty lit”
“Well, I have to take care of my friends.”
“Would you take care of me?”
“Sure, if you needed help.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“Yes, you’re right, but you seem like a nice guy.”
“Most people think I am. Where do you live, Ray?”
“On Ninety-sixth and Broadway,” I said. “What about you?”
“Long Island.”
“How are you getting home? Don’t the trains stop at a certain hour?”
“Yes. I’ll probably just get a hotel in midtown.”
“You don’t have to do that. I have a pullout sofa and you’re welcome to it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, you look harmless, and besides, it’s Christmas.”
“Yes, it is the holidays. Let’s celebrate.”
Quinn and I grabbed our belongings, buttoned our coats and headed toward Christopher Street to catch a taxi uptown. The snow, mixed with sleet, was falling at a pretty rapid rate—although you couldn’t tell by the speeding cars. I looked up at the sky, wishing for the bright full moon and dancing stars that usually overlooked the Village. After about fifteen minutes and walking five long blocks, Quinn and I were able to hail a gypsy cab.
“How much to Ninety-sixth and Broadway?” I asked.
“Ten dollars,” the Puerto Rican driver answered.
“That’s too much.”
“How much do you normally pay?” he asked.
“Seven dollars on the meter.”
“Okay, get in.”
I let Quinn get in the cab first. I couldn’t help but notice how nice he looked as he climbed into the back of the car. While we were riding up the West Side Highway, Quinn talked about how he loved the holidays and shopping for all his family and friends.
“So where are you from, Quinn?”
“Born and raised in Brooklyn, been living on Long Island about five years.”
“You like it?”
“I love it! You’re from down South, right?”
“How did you know that?”
“I have my ways, Mr. Big Time Attorney. Besides, I went to college down South.”
“Oh, I know now, JJ or Kyle. Which one spilled the beans and what college did you attend? Morehouse?”
“Morehouse? I’ll never tell about either one.”
“So if you won’t tell me where you went to school, then what do you do?”
“You mean for a living?” Quinn asked slyly.
“Yes.”
“I’m a broker.”
“A stockbroker?”
“Yes.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Is that important?”
“No, not really.” I wondered why he was being so ambiguous. Maybe I was asking too many questions?
“I’ll tell you sometime real soon,” he said.
As we reached the corner of Ninety-sixth and Broadway, Quinn pulled out his wallet and gave the driver a ten-dollar bill. I noticed gold cuff links on his white French cuffs and what appeared to be a stainless steel Rolex. I wondered if it was real. I’d seen plenty of fake gold Rolexes but never a fake stainless steel. Besides, the way Quinn was dressed and his nice leather Hartmann briefcase led me to believe that it was real.
“Thank you.”
“One good turn deserves another. Let’s see, I bet that’s your building,” he said, pointing to the large two-tier building on the corner.
“How did you know that?”
“It just looks like you, sophisticated.”
“You’re something else,” I said, suddenly feeling very warm inside.
We entered the building and I spotted two big boxes on the guard’s desk. The holiday-decorated lobby was punctuated by massive marble columns that extended to the top of the thirty-two-story building. Grady, my elderly black doorman, was taking a nap, but woke up quickly as I approached the desk.
“Merry Christmas, Grady,” I said.
“Thanks, Mr. Tyler. Merry Christmas to you too. Oh yeah, these two boxes are for you.”
“They are! Can you give me a hand with them?”
“Sure, Mr. Tyler. Go on up and I’ll bring them up in ten minutes.”
“No need,” Quinn piped in. “We can take them up.”
Grady gave Quinn a severe look and turned toward me. “You sure, Mr. Tyler?”
“Why don’t you bring up the larger one, Grady.”
“Yes sir, ten minutes.”
As Quinn and I got on the elevator, I pushed 23 and started laughing.
“What are you laughing at?” Quinn asked.
“I don’t think Grady appreciates you trying to cut down his tip and Christmas bonus.”
“Oh, that’s what that look was for.”
“Yeah, I think so.” We reached the twenty-third floor and walked down the carpeted hallway, where almost every door was adorned with wreaths and different colors of wrapping paper. I reached inside my overcoat to get my door keys and unlock the three locks on the huge steel door with TYLER and 23J sprawled across it.
“This must be you.”
“How can you tell?”
“Good guess. Besides, I can read.”
We walked inside the dark apartment, which faced Broadway. I flipped on the light switch and quickly dropped my briefcase and ran to the bathroom.
“Have a seat!” I yelled as I unzipped my pants. After I finished, I looked into my bathroom mirror to see how I looked. Not bad for a day that started at 5:30 A.M. and for the experiences I’d had on this Friday before Christmas. Maybe a little drop of Visine would clear up the eyes. I returned to the living room of my spacious one-bedroom apartment, noticing that Quinn was still standing there with the box in his hands.
“Didn’t you hear me? Have a seat and set the box on the floor.”
“Okay, thanks.”
As Quinn sat down on my black leather sofa, I observed how tall he was.
“How tall are you?”
“Six feet six and you’re six one and about one-eighty, right?”
“Close. Would you like a drink?”
“Sure, what do you have?”
“Well, a little bit of everything. I’ve been drinking Stoli and champagne, so I think I’ll stick with champagne. Did you play any sports at this alleged college down South?”
“Got any Rémy?” Quinn asked, smiling and purposely avoiding my question. There was a glint of seduction in his eyes.
“Yes, just a corner.”
“That’s all I need.”
“I’ll get some glasses. Here, let me take your coat.”
“Sure, thank you,” Quinn said. Before I took his coat, I looked Quinn straight in the eyes and asked, “Is there any particular reason you are so evasive?”
“No, I just like to keep guys like you thinking. You probably like a challenge and mystery. You’re used to getting everything you want. Am I right?”
“Maybe.”
“What’s going on behind those beautiful eyes?”
“I’ll never tell.”
Quinn poured drinks for the two of us as I went over and slipped in a Regina Belle CD. I unloosened my tie and slipped off my damp loafers. As Quinn walked back toward the sofa, I scrutinized him from head to toe again and thoug
ht how handsome he was.
“You like what you see?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Do you like what you see?”
“I’ve seen better,” I replied smartly.
“When?”
“Earlier this evening.”
“Well, where is he?”
“Who said it was a he?”
“Like I said, where is he?”
“Mount Vernon, I guess.”
“Well, he’s a fool.”
“You think so?”
“Hell yes, to leave a great-looking guy like you. A damn fool.”
With that, Quinn put the brandy snifter down on my glass coffee table and kissed me very gently.
“A damn fool,” he said again as he started to unbutton my shirt and loosen the bright red tie that he was wearing. I pushed him back, and when I touched his stomach, I could feel how solid his body was. His waist appeared small in comparison to his broad shoulders.
“Let’s talk,” I said.
“Talk?”
“Yes, talk.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” Quinn said as he pulled me up from the sofa and led me through the bedroom door, which was only partially open. I could hear Regina Belle singing sweetly in the background as Quinn grabbed my belt buckle and snapped it open. I was following his lead when I suddenly heard my doorbell ringing.
“You don’t have a wife or a lover, do you?” Quinn asked quickly.
“No, that must be Grady. Besides, a wife would have her own key.”
I looked through the tiny hole in my apartment door and saw that it was Grady standing outside with the box from downstairs. I made sure that my shirt was buttoned, checked my pants and quickly opened the door.
“Thanks, Grady. Come on in.”
“Oh, you’re welcome, Mr. Tyler. Are you going to be hanging around for the holidays?”
“No, I think I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon. Hold on a second.”
I looked around for my suit jacket and realized that it was in my bedroom. When I went in, I saw Quinn standing there looking out the large picture window, which overlooked Broadway. He had removed his shirt and tie and I could see his large chest through his white cotton T-shirt. Quinn didn’t say anything. He just stood there, slowly nursing his drink as I searched for my checkbook in my suit jacket. Once I found it, I quickly scribbled out a check and went back into the living room, where Grady was still standing in the same spot.
“Merry Christmas, Grady,” I said as I handed him the check. “Thanks a million for bringing the box up so late.”
“No problem. Have a safe trip and I’ll see you when you get back.”
As I closed the door behind Grady, I wondered what he must think of me. He never saw me bring any women up to the apartment, with the exception of JJ, and when that happened, Kyle was always with us. Maybe he thought we were having some wild threesome. It wasn’t as though I had a lot of male company either. But sometimes, when Kyle and I went out drinking and I got a little full, my judgment would take leave and I would bring home guys that under normal circumstances I wouldn’t give a second look. Grady saw all this, but he never treated me any differently or with any less respect than the other tenants in the building. He probably saw more than any of the other doormen, since he had worked the graveyard shift in the building ever since I could remember.
When I walked back into the bedroom, Quinn had removed his T-shirt to fully reveal a broad chest that had small traces of black hair on beautiful black skin. He had also removed his pants and had on red Calvin Klein Jockey-type underwear that appeared to have been painted on him. The white-rimmed red underwear with CALVIN KLEIN printed on them looked beautiful against his well-defined body. It was only when he was down to just his underwear that I realized that he was slightly bowlegged. I sipped the champagne but didn’t taste it, just looking at Quinn, quietly observing him.
“I hope you have some protection,” Quinn said.
“Protection from what?” I asked, trying to conceal my smile.
“Don’t play with me. Come over here,” he said playfully. As I walked toward Quinn, I thought, What am I getting myself into again? I usually avoided sexual contact on the first meeting like the plague. I didn’t know anything about this guy. I mean, a nice suit didn’t mean that he was safe, but at least he was concerned with protection. It always surprised me how many people still didn’t use condoms. They took the attitude that you had to die from something, and if AIDS had a ten-year incubation period, then there was a good chance that every gay person living in New York had come in contact with the virus I had to remove that thought from my mind. Besides, I was in high school when AIDS began and I had never been with a man when it started. Kelvin was the only man I had practiced unsafe sex with and he looked healthy.
When I reached Quinn, he began to unbutton my shirt with one hand and release my belt with the other. As he released the hook and unzipped my pants, I began to worry about the type of underwear I was wearing and whether I needed a shower. I grabbed Quinn’s shoulder. Suddenly I could see our reflections in my dresser mirror. As my pants fell to the blond hardwood floor, landing around my ankles, I could see my black Jockey underwear against my camel-colored skin and felt relieved. Quinn started to kiss my ears, which drove me crazy. He then took his tongue and started to lick and kiss my nose, forehead and even the tops of my eyelids before he kissed my lips. Quinn’s first kiss was gentle. As his soft, full lips touched mine, they felt as warm as his body. I responded with an open mouth, allowing his long, hard tongue to touch the roof of my mouth. Quinn’s kisses were long, strong and wet. After we had French-kissed for what seemed like an eternity, he started kissing my chin, my neck and then my chest. His tongue and lips were sending me into a sexual frenzy and I wondered what he would do next. We fell on my neatly made bed, where our seminude bodies lay on top of my black-and-green comforter. Quinn’s long legs hung off my full-size bed and he positioned himself so that his head lay on my chest. Without warning, Quinn stopped kissing me and just looked directly into my eyes. For a moment I was frightened, but the longer I stared back into his eyes, the more relaxed I became.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just want to lie here for a minute.”
“You sure everything is all right? Why did you stop?”
“Before I was so anxious to be with you, but now I think you’re right—we should talk. I mean, all I know about you is what Janelle told me.”
“I know even less about you. Maybe you even have a lover.”
“No, I don’t have a lover. What about you?”
“No way. I’m too independent and gay relationships just don’t last.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Without reservation.”
“I tend to agree with you. Let’s just lie here and talk. I could just look into those beautiful eyes of yours for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll discover what’s going on behind them.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to fall asleep. I have to pack and pick up gifts for my family tomorrow and you have a train to catch.”
“Raymond, can I ask you something?” His tone was serious.
“Sure,” I said.
“Have you taken the test?”
“The test?”
“Yeah, the AIDS test.”
“Yep.”
“Would you mind sharing the results?”
“No, I’m glad you asked. I’m negative. And you?”
“Negative also.”
“Good. I’m glad we got that out of the way,” I said softly.
Minutes later I looked down at Quinn’s long black body and realized that he had fallen asleep. I moved his head away from my chest to the pillow, got up to check all my locks and changed the music, popping in a Whitney Houston CD. For some strange reason Whitney always brought Kelvin to mind, but not tonight. I turned out all of the lights
in my apartment and went over to the window. I looked down at the streetlights and Christmas decorations that lined Broadway. The snow had turned to a light rain and I could still see a few people walking down the street. I thought how true it was that this city never sleeps and that at this time tomorrow morning I would be back in my parents’ home in the room where I had spent most of my life. I walked into my bathroom and put on my robe, which was hanging on the back of the door. I took the cap of the mouthwash bottle off, poured a little into it and swished it around in my mouth before spitting it out in the toilet. I took an Alka-Seltzer to avoid a morning hangover, brushed my hair and reached for the nearest cologne bottle. I dabbed a little behind my ears and on my chest. I took a final look in the mirror and wondered if Kyle had allowed Rock to sleep over and if JJ had made it home safely. After turning out the lights, I went back into my bedroom and saw Quinn stretched out and sleeping as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
The digital clock on my nightstand flashed 5:07, and as I lay down on the pillow beside Quinn, the only light in the room came from the clock and the lights outside my bedroom window. As I found my sleeping position, I felt Quinn’s huge arms pull me closer to his warm body and he laid his head on the back of my shoulders. Maybe this is the one, I thought to myself. He’s tall, black, handsome and smart. Maybe, just maybe, Santa Claus had paid an early visit to my apartment.
The ringing phone awakened me from a delicious sleep. Who could be calling me this early on Saturday morning and why wasn’t the answering machine picking up?
“Hello,” I said, whispering so that I wouldn’t wake Quinn.
“Ray.”
“Kyle?”
“Yeah, Ray, I’ve got a big problem.”
“What’s up?” I said as I got up and looked around the room for my robe.
“I need to ask you a favor.”
“Sure, but aren’t you supposed to be on a train heading home?”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Well, you remember Rock from last night?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah, what about him?” I asked, changing to a cordless phone and walking into my small kitchen.
“Well,” Kyle said hesitantly.
“What about him, Kyle, what about him? Spit it out.”
“The motherfucker robbed me, that’s what. He even took my Christmas presents for my mother. I don’t have enough money to catch a taxi down to Penn Station, let alone replace the gifts,” Kyle said disgustedly.
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