“Were they jobs you wanted?”
“Well…” Shorty shrugged. “Sorta, because they put some money in my pocket. But they sure weren’t anything special.” He stopped, looking at Mick. “This one would be because you’re the one offering it. It says you have faith in me.”
“Damned right I do,” Mick said adamantly. “I know you can handle it.”
“Thanks.” Shorty made another circle around the office. “Okay, Mick, you’re on. You’ve just got yourself a host.”
“Yes!”
“When do I start? Officially, I mean.”
“Tomorrow. Right now, there’s a ream of paperwork you have to fill out. I don’t suppose you have any ID, anymore.”
“Yeah, I do. Some of it’s out of date, but I got it, in my pack, which is back at the house.”
“We’ll take the forms with us, and you can fill them out tonight.” Mick went to one of the file cabinets, checking the drawers until he found what he needed. Going back to the desk, he grinned. “Now I’ll find out what your real name is.”
“I guess that’s okay, as long as you don’t use it,” Shorty muttered. When Mick raised an eyebrow, he whispered, “Grover. And so help me…”
Mick bit back on a laugh, or even a grin, replying with a straight face, “I’ve heard worse, but yeah, it doesn’t suit you. You’re not blue and cuddly.”
“Huh?”
“Sesame Street. He’s a Muppet character.”
“If you say so. No kids, so never watched it.”
Now, Mick did grin. “I’m sure we can rectify that.”
“Naw, thanks, I’ll pass.”
There was a knock on the door. When Mick called out, “It’s open,” Richard came in.
“It’s that late?” Mick asked in surprise.
“Yep. Rough day?” Richard asked.
“An interesting one, anyway. I had a good talk with Trenton, both of us survived the onslaught of the hordes who heard about what happened, and I hired a new employee.”
“Let me guess. Shorty.”
“Got it in one,” Shorty replied before Mick could. “I am now gainfully employed.”
“Congratulations. My next question is, how long before you can get out of here, Mick?”
“If I want to keep my sanity? The sooner the better. I’m sure everyone can carry on without me. They did while I was gone and the place is still standing.”
“Then get it in gear, my man. You, too, Shorty. I’m taking us all out to dinner to celebrate your new job.”
“Aw, you don’t have to do that,” Shorty protested.
“I want to, so deal.”
Chapter 10
They did celebrate, with an excellent meal, and then extremely satisfying loving between Mick and Richard once Shorty had gone to bed.
The following morning, Mick gathered up what he needed to get a copy of his lost driver’s license. In the process, he realized he should cancel his credit cards as well. Thankfully, the information he needed to do that was in a folder in the file cabinet. With that chore completed, and the promise that new cards would arrive within the week, he and Shorty took off via cab to visit the driver’s license bureau. After a frustratingly long wait, and dealing with a bored clerk, Mick was able to renew his license—with the promise that it, too, should arrive within the week.
That still left time before the club opened for Mick to take Shorty shopping for new clothes.
“You don’t have to do this,” Shorty had protested when the cab dropped them at a men’s store in Cherry Creek North.
Mick disagreed. “You’re working for me, now. You need something better than well-worn jeans and borrowed shirts that are two sizes too big for you.” When it looked as if Shorty was going to argue the fact, Mick told him to deal. “Consider it my thanks for everything you’ve done for me. Okay?”
“Okay,” Shorty muttered, although it was obvious from his expression that he wasn’t as upset as he pretended.
They left the store with Shorty wearing one of his four new shirts and a pair of dark slacks that the store’s alteration department had hemmed on the spot. They promised that the other two would be ready for pick-up the next day. He carried the rest of the shirts, plus the clothes he’d been wearing, in two shopping bags.
“Tomorrow, new shoes,” Mick told him as they waited for the cab he’d ordered.
“What? You don’t think these are good enough?” Shorty retorted with a grin, holding up one foot which was clad in a well-worn sneaker.
“For hiking, maybe,” Mick replied with a laugh. “For work? Eh.”
They got to the club five minutes before opening. When the employees saw Shorty, to a man they complimented him on his new look. Their only caveat, as Jim, one of the waiters, pointed out, was that he needed a haircut. He offered to take Shorty to the barber he used, several blocks from the club, during their break.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Shorty replied. “I’ve been cultivating this look—” he flicked his ponytail, “—for forever and a day. It stays. Well, unless the boss says otherwise.”
“I won’t,” Mick said, shaking his head. “I’m used to you like that, and you always keep it neatly tied back, so it stays for as long as you want.”
* * * *
Life moved on for the three men.
With Mick’s help, Shorty found an apartment he could afford, not too far from the clubs. After a trip to a near-new shop, he had a bed, an older but serviceable sofa, a small table with two chairs, and a dresser, all paid for out of his second paycheck. “With money to spare to buy food,” he announced with a happy grin, surveying his new domain.
Mick’s driver’s license arrived as promised. His car was already back at the house, thanks to a local locksmith who made him a new set of keys, and Richard who drove it home from the parking lot two days after Shorty had started working at The Rainbow. It was a relief to finally be able to drive to work, rather than cabbing it there and back.
Slowly, all Mick’s memories returned, other than those surrounding the assault.
“Frankly,” he said to Richard one evening over dinner, “I’m just as glad I don’t remember what happened.” He smiled dryly. “Of course the prosecutor for Celeste’s trial thinks otherwise, but he’s got enough evidence without my remembering. So she should be found guilty, anyway.”
“Of her attempt on our lives, but not the original one on you,” Richard pointed out.
“Well, technically, she wasn’t involved with that. Andy was, and he’ll do some time for it, even after turning state’s evidence against her and the drug dealer, who was the one who tried to kill me.”
Celeste’s trial ended as they hoped, primarily because of Trenton and Andy’s testimonies. She was sentenced to the maximum forty-eight years in prison plus a mandatory five years parole once she was released.
“Serves her right,” Trenton said over a celebratory dinner at his new home, the evening after the trial ended.
He had moved out of his old house by then, telling Mick, “It’s too big for one person, and not really my style anymore. Hell, I don’t think it ever was. She furnished it to suit her extravagant tastes and I went along with it. I’m much happier where I am now.”
His new home was a small, remodeled 1905 Victorian house within walking distance of the clubs. When he’d told them he was buying it, Shorty had shot Mick and Richard a look.
“Now you have to move, too, so we’re all neighbors, or close to it.”
“Nope,” Richard had replied. “Our home has its own history. One we made together.”
Mick had agreed wholeheartedly, adding, “I even remember it, now.”
Hugging him, Richard had said, “You remember almost everything, including the names of all the regulars at the club.”
“Which is more than I do,” Trenton had commented, chuckling.
“Now why would you remember my regulars?” Mick had quipped, rating him groans from the others. He loved it that, after too much time being estranged
from Trenton, they were able to be true brothers again with all that implied, including the teasing.
* * * *
“Life is good,” Mick said as he and Richard returned home after celebrating the trial’s end.
“Life is perfect, as far as I’m concerned. There was a time when I wondered if it could be.”
“When I vanished and you didn’t know where or why?”
“Yes. Then, when I found you, and you didn’t remember me…”
Since Richard was driving, Mick was able to lean over to kiss his cheek as he said, “We were meant to be together. The Fates wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“And we must never argue with them.”
“You have that right.” He planted a second kiss on Richard’s cheek. “Now, could you drive faster than—” he checked the speedometer, “—thirty miles an hour? I want to get home and prove, once again, that they are right.”
Richard laughed, sped up, and not too much later they were proving it, and quite successfully as far as they were concerned.
THE END
ABOUT EDWARD KENDRICK
Born and bred in Cleveland, I earned a degree in technical theater, later switched to costuming, and headed to NYC. Finally seeing the futility of trying to become rich and famous in the Big Apple, I joined VISTA—Volunteers in Service to America—ending up in Chicago for three years. Then it was on to Denver where I put down roots and worked as a costume designer until I retired in 2007.
I began writing a few years ago after joining an online fanfic group. Two friends and I then started a group for writers, where they could post any story they wished no matter the genre or content. Since then, for the last five years, I’ve been writing for publication—my first book came out in February of 2011. Most, but not all, of my work is M/M, either mildly erotic or purely ‘romantic.’ More often than not it involves a mystery or action/adventure, and is sometimes paranormal to boot.
For more information, visit edwardkendrick.blogspot.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
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