Street Kid

by Ned Williams

  For our next date I decided to surprise him by arriving early. When he saw me already standing there, he looked annoyed. I soon found out that he always liked to be the one who did the waiting. He wallowed in the anticipation. Thereafter, I secretly vowed to always be on time to indulge him. The evening ended with him giving me yet another parcel containing more tee–shirts and a leather jacket, which was identical to the one he’d worn on the day of our first meeting. He suggested that next time we went out we could both wear our jackets and dress identically. I gently but firmly put paid to that idea. It smacked too much of us being an affair.

  Weeks went by and our relationship deepened. I still hadn’t mentioned this special client to the other rents and I was beginning to feel a little guilty about it. After all, we told one another everything – and I do mean everything.

  The familiar pattern of our dates began to break. We started to talk. We met earlier and went out for meals before beating the path to that ubiquitous garden shed.

  Joey also enjoyed a drink. Because of my age, I’d always had difficulty getting into a lot of the gay pubs. The clubs weren’t too much of a problem as, usually, they were private and had alternative bolt holes which could be utilised if ever the place were raided. I was lucky and never had to scoot away in fear of arrest. The gay pubs, however, were a different matter. Along with the rest of their under–aged clientele, I had to sit in the shadows and, ostensibly drink lemonade or Coke. The bar staff must have known I was getting an alcoholic top–up but either they chose to let it pass or felt too intimidated to comment. Joey liked to relax in straight pubs. When he was challenged over my age, he did his pieces.

  “How dare you, ssir,” he’d say. “Carl can’t help it if he lookss ass young ass he doess. Believe it or not, he’ss older than me!!”

  After each of these altercations, he returned to our table with a broad smile of triumph and two pints of beer! Without exception, he always managed to browbeat the bar’s staff and convince them that I was over eighteen.

  Apart from my first meeting with Joey, there was a distinct lack of actual cash forthcoming – but my wardrobe had grown by leaps. To try and halt my mother’s suspicions, I gave a lot of my spoils to my work and art colleagues.

  Getting to know him, I soon discovered he was highly confident and very proud. We had little problem in communication as he’d developed the art of lip reading to an extremely high degree. Although at first I found it a little disconcerting to have him literally hanging on my every word, I soon became used to it. The one thing that I always found difficult to take was the accent and that sibilance he used when pronouncing his S’s. How anyone, who had been deaf for most of his life, achieved this strange ‘camp’ affectation was, and still is, totally beyond me. I know it wasn’t his fault but the associations of that sound drove me to distraction.

  I also discovered he only used cash for any initial meeting with new contacts. Afterwards, the transactions changed. He refused to pay actual money for sex but, instead, hired his sexual comrades with clothes and high quality presents. As we only met on a Sunday, I was happy, just with him, to forgo hard currency.

  His real independence came when we went out for meals. For a start, he always insisted on paying. I would have been quite happy to treat him now and then but he would never entertain it. After choosing our table, he invariably took it upon himself to order. At first, because of his accent, I was embarrassed for him. However, I soon became used to it and began to resent the hostility and mockery he received from the waiters and waitresses. Perhaps I was being so defensive of him because I did exactly the same when we first met. Was I trying to make it up to him? All this he appeared either not to notice or not give a flamingo’s fuck over. I now believe he accepted it as part of the ignorant side of human nature. He was almost challenging their prejudices. After these expensive meals, we then went from the heights of Epicurean elegance to the utter depths of sexual preposterousness. The business on the sack covered floor of the garden shed had to be completed!

  After about three months of this routine, I began to realise that things in our idyllic dovecote were not exactly cooing. There was shit on the floor. I knew things were beginning to get worryingly serious when, one day, he asked me if I’d accept an invitation to come home with him to meet his mother! Was a potential boyfriend being paraded for the family’s approval? I wasn’t very pleased at the sound of this. What reaction would I get? Was I being set up?

  It transpired that Joey’s mother had requested the meeting. (God, was I going to get a lecture on how I was corrupting the beloved fruit of her loins?) I was getting paranoid. Maybe she wanted to meet an example of the type of person with whom Joey was hanging around. Any mother worth her salt would want to make sure their son wasn’t getting involved with the ‘wrong sort’. Yes, that must be it. As we went up the short path to their front door, I still wasn’t fully convinced. Joey must have picked up on my apprehension for he gave a reassuring little squeeze to my arm.

  Joey thrust his key into the door, threw it open and shouted, “Mum, we’re here!” He ushered me into the front room. It was neat, clean, tidy and eminently forgettable. I heard padding footsteps along the corridor and braced myself for the unwanted encounter. The door opened...

  In walked a dumpy, diminutive woman of about sixty. She quickly began to giggle – and what an infectious giggle it was too! To all intents and purposes, she was a calm, happy woman who was contented with what life had given her. There didn't appear to be a vindictive bone in her body. She had an openness of disposition, which was at once both embarrassing and endearing. Nor was she blessed with her son's disability.

  Before the first hour was up she was telling me all about her ex–husband (Joey's father). They were divorced as he was extremely violent and had regularly attacked both her and his son. I wondered if this was the cause of Joey's deafness – but I never found out. Even to the most casual of observers, it was plain she adored her son but in a very healthy way.

  Joey excused himself and went out to display another of his talents – cooking.

  Whilst he was thus engaged in fussing around the kitchen, putting the final touches to our meal, she confided in me some even deeper secrets. Joey had ‘come out’ to her at the grand old age of twelve! Fortunately, despite her apparent old–fashioned appearance, she was quite an advanced, liberal thinker. After some initial doubts and tears, she accepted her son’s confession as the truth. She openly admitted that she knew exactly what her son was up to sexually and gave him her wholehearted blessing. Because of his deafness, Joey had problems relating to like minded people. To get over this, she gave him a substantial allowance so he could give his boys presents. I was unsure of the wisdom of this action as it gave the impression that the only way Joey could form a relationship was by buying it. I said nothing, as, at the moment, I was the recipient of her generosity. Naturally, she didn’t want the more sordid side of the transaction to take place under her roof so the allotment shed was kept on to cater for Joey’s sex life.

  Joey called us into the dining room. He had really gone to town. Was he expecting the whole of the British Army? The buffet contained everything from home made dips, through a multitude of assorted salads, to great slabs of smoked salmon and dressed crab. When he saw my expression, Joey couldn’t hide his delight and beamed at me in childlike rapture. I tried my best to do justice to the spread by stuffing my face as best I could, but it was an uphill battle. When we had finished, it looked as though we'd hardly dented it.

  Leaving the remains of the feast, we returned to the front room where the three of us spent a delightful evening in happy conversation. When it came time for me to leave, Joey escorted me to the bus stop. On the way, he tried to give me a gold ring. I refused it. He startled me by becoming very angry, particularly when I became adamant in my refusal. I should have seen the warning signs. This was the second time he showed anger for what I considered a singularly minor infraction of our relationship. This time,
however, his anger was more intense.

  The next time we met, he gushed apologies for his flash of temper as if they were going out of fashion. Verbally, I forgave him, but I didn't like the way things were going. I knew I had to either get a few things straight or break it off completely. I decided to let things ride but keep an eye on any more indications of his adversity.

  My Sunday night bookings with Joey continued for about another four months during which time I continued to say nothing to the rest of the gang. They only vaguely questioned my whereabouts on Sunday evenings. When I refused to tell, they simply weren’t all that bothered.

  Another thing really began to worry me; Joey was showing distinct signs of jealousy. This I couldn’t tolerate.

  I first noticed it when, one day, Joey decided to make a surprise visit to ‘Hell’.

  He stomped over to where I was loitering and yelled, “Sso, thiss iss where you get to when you're not with me!!”

  I looked around to see if any of my friends had heard. They were all watching us in unabashed curiosity. Damn!! It was pretty obvious there was something going on between Joey and myself. A hideous row ensued, culminating in Joey storming off in floods of tears.

  As soon as he had made his dramatic exit, the gang came charging over to indulge in some good–hearted mockery. The worst culprit was Paolo who rose up to relish my discomfort. I was furious, which only made them laugh all the more. Unable to cope with their ribald comments, I rushed off in a different direction to Joey.

  I was so crunched up inside, I caught a bus and went straight home. My mother was there and saw that I was upset over something.

  “What's the matter with you now?”

  “What?” I played for time to think.

  “Don’t you ‘what’ me!” she sympathised.

  “Sorry.” I went into my room and stewed over the horrible scene.

  The following Sunday night, heading to keep our usual rendezvous, I wondered if Joey would dare turn up. As I rounded the corner, I could see him standing and looking anxiously up and down the street. I had decided to end it and all that remained was to inform him of the fact. For hours I had mulled over how I could break it to him. He spotted me and came running over. As he got closer, it upset me to see that he was crying. Before I could say a word, he endeavoured to push a small, wrapped box into my hand. I wouldn't take it.

  “Carl, my ssweet. I prayed you'd turn up.” Tears fell in a torrent.

  “We had a date. Of course I’d turn up. What did you expect?” I was attempting to sound business–like.

  “I’m glad.” Once again, he tried to force his present into my pocket but I thwarted his efforts. “Pleasse, take it! I shouldn’t have gone off at you like I did.”

  “Joey?” I was determined to carry out my resolve.

  A look of horror came over him. “Pleasse don’t ssay you’re going to leave me. I didn’t mean to be sso nassty. I want to forget all about it. Pretend it never happened. Will you? – Pretend it never happened ass well? Can you?”

  “That’s all very well, Joey, but...” What could I do?

  I insisted we break our usual timetable and went for a long walk to talk things over. During our aimless ramble, I managed to keep his reluctant attention focussed on our relationship. Many times he strove to change the subject, but I wouldn’t let him. I actually felt he was beginning to listen. I was starting to get through to him. The outcome was that things would go on as they were but he was to understand that I wasn’t his exclusive, personal property.

  We didn’t visit the shed and I managed to leave without the present. On my way home, I still entertained serious doubts. Had he really been listening?

  Our meetings blundered on but things had definitely changed. The little gifts became even more numerous and expensive. I continued to refuse them. Each time I did so, Joey became tearful.

  The final showdown came at a newly opened late night club/bar called ‘The Barn’. It was a grim place that catered for the impoverished, elderly gay who was tired of his lot and wanted somewhere quiet and dark into which he could crawl and contemplate the passing of time. There was a single, naked light bulb in the middle of the room. Every table and chair was an unmatched, hand–me–down. It looked like the last waiting room on earth.

  For the older, less discerning rents, the place was a haven. It also acted as a reserve market for the youngsters. If, by any chance, there was very little business to be obtained in the usual places, and by charging a modest fee, a meagre living could be maintained. Because I lived at home and had a daytime job, ‘The Barn’ was not really on my social engagement card. However, I had been in there once or twice with some of the others and had left as soon as I could.

  Somehow, Joey had heard about the place and wanted to pay a visit. As we entered, I wondered what had made him choose it. I had sought to put him off from going but he wouldn’t hear of it. It certainly wasn’t my idea of a ‘good night out’. The more I tried to put him off, the more Joey appeared determined to go so, eventually, I gave in.

  Even before we could close the door, a few men with whom I was on more than just speaking terms, greeted me and exchanged some light hearted banter. There were also a couple of rents I knew slightly and they, because of boredom, wanted to come up and talk. I saw Joey’s face darken. “We can’t go anywhere, can we?” he complained. “There’ss alwayss ssomeone!”

  “I think it’s time to go,” I murmured.

  “Why? We’ve only jussst got here.” His voice was tight and strained.

  When one of the rents came over and gleefully told us that one of the punters had spotted Joey and myself and wanted to hire us as a pair, Joey threw him a punch. Fortunately, he missed but his fury was now, loudly, directed at me. I made a futile attempt at leaving but he was determined to have a face off there and then.

  I was left with only one course of action. I walked out! As I did so, he screamed, “Thiss issn’t the end of it, Carl!!”

  I’d only managed to walk about a hundred yards when Joey came charging up. Once again, he was full of tears and regrets.

  I stopped and faced him so that there would be nothing ambiguous in what I was about to say. “Look, Joey, for the last time, let’s get one thing straight. I am on the game. I sell my body to men! It’s my job!” He made a sudden noise as if I’d kicked him in the groin. He recovered a little and stared at me. Apart from some tears in his eyes, his face was expressionless. I pressed on. He needed to be told the brutal truth. “People pay me for sex. Tell me, why did you pick me up that first time?” Joey didn’t, or wouldn’t answer. “Well?” He turned away but I was determined he was going to hear me out. I forced him around to look at me. “Those guys are in there to buy and be bought. I am here to be bought. You have to accept that. Understand?”

  Holding back a sob, he shuddered and said, “Sso you think of me only ass a bank account? A cusstomer? A ssucker to be ussed? You never felt anything for me ass a persson?”

  “I like you a lot. You’re a kind, sweet, loving young man...,” Joey tried to interrupt but I wasn’t having any of it, “...but I am doing my job.”

  To my surprise, Joey suddenly smiled and nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I forgot. I’m sso sstupid!”

  “Oh, Joey, you’re not. Will you stop putting yourself down? You are a bright, intelligent lad.”

  “Can we go to the shed, Carl?” I didn’t answer. “Pleeasse? I need a good cuddle.”

  I relented, “Okay, for a little while.” Was I making a mistake?

  Our journey was made in utter silence. On the bus, Joey held my hand and ignored the horrified glares of the other passengers.

  At the allotment, the thin veneer of Joey’s understanding shot up to the stratosphere.

  “Now, Carl? Lissten! Yess! You lissten to me for a while!! I’m telling you here and now that I don’t want you to do any of that ssort of thing ever again. Never, ever!! Is that undersstood?!! I don’t want anyone elsse mauling you about!”

>   “Here, hang on a moment!” I snapped. “Just who the hell d’you think you...!”

  My fury didn’t stop him. He spoke right across me. Like a fool, I had forgotten that he couldn’t see me. Had he deliberately waited until the darkness gave him the advantage? Was he teaching me a lesson in disability?

  When I deemed that his anger was getting out of hand, I walked out. He didn’t follow.

  The following Sunday, I didn’t turn up for our appointment – nor for the next one. After a couple of weeks, I went into ‘The Green Goddess’. Renata gave me a letter from her box. He wanted to meet me to sort things out. I screwed the note up and, when I left, threw it in a rubbish bin. As far as I was concerned, that whole sad phase of my life was closed.

  The following weekend, he cornered me in one of the dock’s many waterside walkways. Once again, he made an attempt to give me some presents. I still didn’t want to know.

  “Before you refuse, have a look and see what I’ve bought you.”

  To shut him up, and with a deep sigh of resignation, I opened the packages. “Very nice!” I grunted.

  “Try them on.” He took the boxes from me and removed the gold watch, ring and necklace.

  "No! I don’t want them!" I insisted. "Joey, please get it into your head, its over. I don’t want all this."

  “In that casse...,” he smiled and, with a swift movement, cast them into the river. I watched, impassively.

  His smile dissolved and was replaced by tears. He began to plead. I walked away.

  I was so upset with this confrontation; once again, I went straight home. I felt a heel. From that moment on, Joey gave up the chase and left me alone.

  Occasionally, I saw him trolling the pick–up areas and, to my face, he pointedly ignored my existence. Even so, there was the odd time when I turned my head and caught him staring. At such moments, as soon as our eyes met, he’d turn away in feigned indifference.