First You Fall

by Scott Sherman

  “Yes,” May said. “I think the plight of queer youth real y touched him. After al he had been through.

  And his son of course.”

  This was new. “His son?”

  “Wel, you know he didn’t have much contact with either of his children, right?”

  “None,” I said.

  “Right. Stil, he kept track of them. Tried to be involved. He told me that he thought one of them might be gay, but that he had gotten married anyway.

  It made him so sad to think that his son might be making the same mistake he had.”

  The only one of the sons who was married was Paul. “Did he say what made him think that?”

  Lori, or as I would always think of her, The Wal, cleared her throat. “We r-r-real y have to go, May.”

  For such a big girl, her voice was soft and breathless. You could see how shy she was, too, as she continued to regard her shoes as if they were the most interesting things on Earth. I always wondered what quiet people like her did with al their feelings.

  “One minute,” May responded. She gave Lori a reassuring pat on the back. I wondered if Lori wasn’t a bit impaired. May turned back to me.

  “No, he never said.”

  Freddy thought Paul seemed a little light in the loafers, too. Although I wasn’t sure what difference it made.

  We stood awkwardly for a moment. “So, do you work here?” May asked me.

  I explained that I was a volunteer.

  “That’s wonderful,” May enthused. “Good for you.”

  “Hey,” I said, “maybe I could do some work with you guys,” I offered. “Kind of a way to honor Al en’s memory.”

  Lori and May looked at each other. “We’re not real y set up for that,” May said.

  “Wel, let me know if I can help. Do you have a card or something?”

  “Not yet,” May smiled. “That’s what Al en was helping us with. Infrastructure costs. We’re kind of a start-up. Al en had been looking to build an organization that catered specifical y to the needs of sexual minority youth, and he was very impressed by some of the work Lori and I had been doing with homeless teens. But maybe I could take one of yours?”

  Not surprisingly, I didn’t have any business cards.

  What would they say: “Kevin Connor, Male Prostitute?” I wrote my number on the back of a safer-sex flyer hanging in the hal way.

  I wanted to talk to them some more, just in case they might have known something about Al en that would have helped me understand what had happened to him, but I real y didn’t know what to ask.

  I also had to go run my lunch shift. But there was one last thing I wanted to ask them.

  “Listen, everyone tel s me I’m crazy,” I said, “but I just don’t believe Al en would have kil ed himself. Do you?”

  May shook her head. “I’ve been saying the same thing to Lori since it happened. He was very involved with us in the formation of the Association. We spoke every day. He went over our books, he helped us develop grant applications, he even introduced us to other potential major donors. Al en lived passionately. I think it must have been some terrible kind of accident. I just can’t believe he’d take his own life.”

  For the first time since I’d bumped into her, Lori looked up. I was struck by just how pretty her features were. “You d-d-don’t know,” she said quietly. I recal ed that she stuttered at the reading of the wil, too. Maybe it was embarrassment that kept her so quiet.

  “Don’t know what,” I asked.

  She turned to me with tears in her eyes. “You don’t know what someone could d-d-do. What they’re c-c-capable of. Until they do it.” Her shoulders started to shake.

  May put an arm around her. “In our line of work, we see things that are very hard to believe, Kevin.

  Parents who beat their own children half to death, who throw them into the streets, just because they find out that they’re gay.

  “If you saw these parents in the market, or at church or school, they’d probably look like any other loving parent in the world. But when they find out the truth about their kids, when the reality doesn’t fit perfectly with their expectations, wel, you find out just how disposable some children in this society are.”

  You could hear May’s passion in her words and you could see Lori’s empathy on her pained and tear-streaked face. I saw why Al en believed in their vision.

  “Kevin!” A cal came from the kitchen. “We’ve got to get started! We need you!”

  I put out my hand. “Sorry, but it sounds like I real y have to go. But I’m glad I ran into you. Give me a cal.”

  May took my hand in both of hers and pul ed me in for a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, dear.”

  I extended my hand to Lori, too. She shook it limply. Even though she wasn’t squeezing, I could feel the strength in her fingers. She real y was a gentle giant.

  Which made me remember how she was crying at the reading of Al en’s wil.

  What happens to the feelings of quiet people like her?

  Maybe they come out as tears.

  After finishing my shift at The Stuff of Life, I cal ed Roger Folds and got his machine. I left a message that I was a volunteer with the agency and that I had his things. I asked him to cal me with a convenient time to drop them off. I took the box home with me.

  It would be wrong for me to go through Roger’s things, I thought, as I went through his things.

  Unfortunately, there was nothing interesting. Some pens, a desk blotter, a few framed certificates, and a n American Idol Season One Greatest Hits CD.

  Not exactly an admission of murder, although possession of an American Idol CD must violate some law somewhere.

  I checked my answering machine. No messages.

  My iPhone chimed the love theme from A Star Is Born, reminding me that I had a client appointment in an hour. I made a quick lunch of leftover liver and onion, brushed my teeth three times, used mouthwash, and grabbed a quick shower before running out the door.

  Midday appointments usual y mean a married client, and this one was no exception. Dr. Richard Applebaum was one of the Upper East Side’s most prestigious gynecologists. He and his beautiful wife appeared regularly on the pages of the society columns.

  On the third Thursday of every month, Richard closed his office at noon to catch up on paperwork.

  At two, I’d arrive to put his stirrups to a few unintended uses. I don’t know how long he lasted in bed with his lovely wife, but I was usual y out the door by 2:20.

  “You’re such a good boy,” Richard said, as I laid back on his examining table, where, only moments earlier, he’d showered me with a voluminous, if typical y premature, ejaculation. “Is there anything you need written?”

  Dr. Dick was my contact for pharmaceutical assistance. He was always wil ing to write me a prescription for whatever I wanted. And although I never took recreational drugs (who knows what’s in that Ecstasy you buy on the dance floor?), I wasn’t above the occasional Xanax, Ambien, or Viagra.

  “Nothing, thanks, Dr. Applebaum.” I wiped something off my chin. Yuck. “That was quite a load you shot there.”

  “Sorry about that,” the doctor chuckled. “Here.” He reached up to my hair. “You got some there, too.”

  “Jesus, what are you eating?”

  “Good nutrition, son, exercise, and plenty of rest.

  Keeps a man vital, you know?”

  And quick, too, I thought. Although I had to say that for a man in his late fifties, he did look pretty good.

  “Listen,” he said, handing me towel. “I was sorry to hear about your friend Al en Harrington.”

  “You knew Al en?”

  “Oh yes, we traveled in some of the same circles, you know.” I wasn’t sure if he meant high society or gay-older-man circles, but I nodded.

  “Al en knew of my… extracurricular interests, and he once mentioned you.”

  “A recommendation?” I asked.

  “Yes, although he made it clear that he had
n’t, shal we say, sampled the goods.”

  Lovely.

  “Yes, Al en’s tastes ran towards the more beastly, you know. Although what he saw in al those vapid muscle boys, I can’t imagine. Not when he could have had a sweet kid like you.”

  “Aw shucks.” I shrugged.

  “Imagine his surprise when I told him that I had already made your acquaintance. I remember he said ‘Ah, Richard, you always did have a way of finding the better things in life, didn’t you?’”

  I smiled.

  “He was a very good man, and I know you two remained friends. I’m sure you’l miss him.”

  “Listen,” I said, “do you believe he would have kil ed himself?”

  “Suicide?” Dr. Dick asked. “Of course not. Who’s saying that?”

  “The police.”

  “Why, that’s absurd. Al en Harrington was one of the strongest, bravest men I knew.” Dr. Dick glanced over at the wal, where a portrait of him and the woman he was married to hung in a simple gold frame.

  A reminder of the double life his friend had left behind.

  His face clouded over with regret.

  “Yes,” Dr. Dick said. “He was one of the bravest men I knew.”

  Sitting in a taxi on my way back to my apartment, I felt a little sad for Dr. Dick. As accomplished as he was professional y, who knows if he was happy?

  I, however, was thril ed with the hundred-dol ar tip in my pocket, and the confirmation that yet another person thought Al en incapable of suicide.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about Al en pimping me out, but I suppose that was just his way of looking out for me. After al, if I were a plumber, I wouldn’t object to a referral. So why should I mind Al en recommending my sexual services?

  Meanwhile, I was kind of horny. I hadn’t cum in my eleven minutes of sex with the good doctor, but the blowjob he was giving me at the moment of his sudden climax had me boned up pretty good. And although he had offered to “bring me to completion,” I declined his kindness.

  So now what?

  I checked out my cab driver in the rear viewer, but he was too freaky looking to fantasize about.

  My iPhone vibrated in my pocket. As nice as it felt, I decided to answer it.

  “Hey, it’s Tony. Can you drop by my precinct later?”

  Best offer I had al day.

  “How about now? I’m in a cab.”

  “Great,” Tony said. “Just tel ‘em you’re here to see me.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Too Many Balls

  Sure enough, the desk clerk cal ed Tony, who came out to join me. I wasn’t expecting a hug in front of his fel ow officers, and I didn’t get one. “Come this way,” Tony said, stiffly.

  Tony looked great in his usual outfit of dark blue dress slacks, white shirt, and blue striped tie. He held a manila envelope in his hand.

  He led me to a smal room with a rectangular table and four chairs. He nodded towards the mirror that lined the far wal. “Two way glass,” he cautioned me.

  Translation: Don’t try any funny stuff.

  “What’s up?” I asked him.

  “Take a look.” Tony handed me the folder.

  A memo to his chief summarizing Tony’s findings on Al en’s case. The coroner’s report found the cause of death to be-no surprise-the fal from his window. He found no other bruises or injuries inconsistent with the fal, although he did note that the back of the head and several other parts of the body were crushed in a way that made a complete analysis impossible.

  There was also no sign of forced entry to Al en’s apartment and the doorman hadn’t announced any visitors.

  “Satisfied?” he smirked.

  “Why are you showing me this?”

  “To keep you out of trouble. Also, to let you know I was only kidding when I said that you were a suspect.” He smiled.

  “I assumed you were.”

  “Don’t be so sure. After al, you were mentioned in the wil. In any case, that’s always the first question we ask. ‘Who benefits?’”

  “I didn’t even know I was in the wil,” I told him. “Let alone for how much.”

  “Fifty-seven thousand, two hundred and seven dol ars,” Tony said. “And seven cents. At least that’s what the account was worth yesterday.”

  My mouth dropped open.

  “Surprised?” Tony asked, stil grinning.

  “How do you know?” I asked him.

  “We’re the police,” Tony said. “We know these things. I also know that the amount he left each of his kids was just about double that. Not exactly chump change, but, given what his boys earn, hardly an inducement to murder.”

  I thought for a moment.

  “They hated him,” I said, half to myself.

  “A lot of people hate their parents,” Tony said.

  “But they don’t kil them.”

  “No, they don’t.” So, the Harrington kids had no financial incentive to see their father dead. I had to admit that Tony was making sense.

  “Kevin,” Tony looked at me gently. He put his hand on the table as if he were going to take mine. Then he glanced at the mirror and pul ed it back. “I think you’re wasting your time. I think you’re mourning Al en and you’re looking for someone to blame. I think you might just have to accept that Al en kil ed himself.”

  Suddenly, I felt a lot less sure of things. “I need a minute,” I said. My thoughts were coming fast and furious. Had I taken my medicine today?

  I lowered my head and looked up at him. Blinked back tears.

  “Kevin,” Tony said. He got up from his seat and came behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders.

  “Kevin.”

  I wanted to be strong, but the possibility that Tony was right devastated me. He was the professional here. What was I even doing doubting him?

  “I just…” I began, but there was a lump in my throat that blocked my words. I rubbed my eyes. “I’m just so sad,” I admitted. “I real y loved him, you know?”

  Tony sank to his knees and put his arms around me. “It’s OK,” he comforted me.

  “Two way glass,” I reminded him as we embraced.

  “Fuck ‘em,” Tony answered.

  After a few minutes, I told Tony I was al right and he returned to his seat. “Can you talk a little more?” he asked me.

  “Sure.”

  “Listen, that’s a pretty big chunk of change Al en left you. Just what was going on between you two, anyway?”

  “Just friends,” I told him. Tony raised an eyebrow.

  “I swear. I think he liked having a young man he could mentor and look out for. Especial y since his own kids were estranged.”

  Tony nodded. “OK, I buy it. But if that was your relationship, then maybe he didn’t feel comfortable sharing his problems with you. After al, if he was your father figure, maybe he didn’t want to seem weak in front of you.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “We may never know,” Tony said. “Al I’m saying is that you need to move on. The evidence shows that Al en kil ed himself. And that’s not exactly rare these days.”

  I remembered something Tony had said at the bar.

  “That’s right, you told me about that-a series of gay suicides.”

  “Yeah, but that’s off the record.”

  “Did you ever find out if Al en knew any of the other victims?”

  “There’s no evidence either way.”

  I tried to think of another question, but I was at a dead end.

  Dead. End.

  I shuddered.

  My phone rang.

  “Do you need to get that?” Tony asked.

  “Not now,” I told him. We just looked at each other.

  How beautiful he was at that moment, his face showing nothing but concern for me. I felt teary again.

  “Are you going to be al right?” he asked me.

  I nodded. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and looked at him sadly.

  “I wish I could kiss you right now,” Tony said.
>
  But you always have a reason not to kiss me, I thought, don’t you, and there’s a two way mirror, and my dear friend is dead, and we can’t go to your place because your wife might be home, and we can’t go to my place because my mother might be home, and someone just left me over fifty thousand dollars and that kind of kills my last excuse not to go back to school, and if you knew what I really did for a living you’d probably kill me and I think I’m falling in love with you again and you hurt me so much the last time and oh, this is all so complicated!

  Too many bal s in the air.

  Time to let one drop.

  With Tony no longer investigating Al en’s death, there was one less reason for us to keep seeing each other.

  Especial y since he was married. To a woman, yet.

  I had to tel him that this was it for us.

  Another dead end.

  At least I’d be the one to end it this time.

  I was just about to tel him so when he said,

  “Listen, Kevin, with me closing the case and al, I guess that means we have to decide if we’re going to keep seeing each other. And I think, maybe, we should talk about it.”

  “What?” I said louder than I intended to.

  “Wel, I just think that you’re looking for something more than I am, and while I can’t deny that I’m attracted to you, I just don’t want to…”

  “No way,” I interrupted him. “No way are you dumping me again.”

  “I’m not dumping you,” Tony said. “I’m just saying I don’t want to hurt you down the line…”

  “So you’re hurting me now?”

  “No, what I’m saying is…”

  “What you’re saying is bul shit,” I told him. “And you can’t break up with me, damn it, because I was just about to break up with you.”

  Tony raised his eyebrows. “You were?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wel, I wasn’t breaking up with you,” Tony said. “I was just saying we need to talk about it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I said. “Oh, yeah?” I couldn’t believe how angry I was with him, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure what I was angry about. After al, I had been thinking the same thing.

  Then I realized I was angry because I was afraid. I had built a great wal around my heart, and I didn’t want to get hurt again.