by Duncan More
Chapter Eight
Monday morning, Eugene crawled out of bed earlier than usual, though he didn’t want to leave Dillon’s embrace. He headed to the bathroom and showered and gingerly shaved his swollen face the best he could. Looking in the mirror, he could see that some of the puffiness was gone, but it was still noticeable. But those eyes! True black eyes with brown and yellow and purple discoloration. He headed to his make-up kit, and using his Gia skill, masked them as best he could. Then it was time for work. Dillon mentioned over their breakfast that he planned to spend the day making them a slowly simmered spaghetti sauce for their dinner, and once it was started, he’d again be on the internet searching the area for a job. Together they left the house: Eugene to the bank and Dillon to the market.
Douglas Fredericks, the bank president, left his office about an hour after opening to chat with his cashiers about their weekend, as was his custom. He took one look at Eugene. “My god! What happened to you?”
“Long story.”
“Close your drawer and come to my office. We need to talk about this.”
Douglas was more than the president – to Eugene he was like a father. They had met several years earlier when Eugene was down on his luck. They had met at Scotty’s Vaudevilla, a bar twenty miles south. He noticed Eugene dancing and only drinking bottled water, although he did a shot if someone bought him one. There was something about the young man that piqued his interest. It wasn’t sexual – he knew a young man was not going to be interested in sex with a man more than double his age unless it was for cash, and he never bought his sex having a stay-at-home partner for over twenty years. When Eugene came to the bar to order another bottle of water, he introduced himself and they began conversing. By the end of the night, they were friendly, and Eugene, after hmmming and haaaing, accepted an invitation for dinner at a fancy restaurant he had never dreamed of dining in. They talked for hours and Eugene was surprised when Douglas dropped him off at his house without any sexual advances. They had three more dinners and Douglas was still impressed with the young man. He had values and dreams but lacked the money to pursue them. Definitely not a sugar daddy, Douglas did offer him a job at the bank where he could improve his living situation. It was a move Douglas never regretted.
“All right, what happened? Who did this to you?”
“Friday night I was performing as Gia at The Way Station. In the middle of the number, Mike Bonavena was drunk and suddenly hurled me to the ground and began punching me. The security guys got him off of me and took him outside. The police arrested him and I had an ambulance ride for an overnight stay at the hospital for a possible concussion. Saturday I filed charges for battery with the intent to do major bodily harm. He’s being held until his arraignment. Cops said I should get a lawyer to file a restraining order against him. He made some threats against me.”
“Mike Bonavena, huh. What a waste! Thinks everyone in the town should idolize him because he had a chance to be a lineman in the NFL. Hasn’t done a damn thing with his college degree. Works four or five months a year as a logger out west, comes back here for the rest of the year and drinks his earnings away while trying to get laid. I know he’s tried to put the moves on every female teller here – even sweet old Mrs. Williams – usually in the grossest way possible – telling them he’s got the equipment that in just one night could satisfy their every desire.”
“I believe it. I’ve seen him try to hit on every girl at Wayne’s. Also at Fever Forever.”
“You say he made threats against you. Well, I can’t let that happen.” He pressed a button on his phone. “Marge, get me Attorney Kubicki on the phone.” He turned to Eugene, “We’ll take care of this problem.” Marge buzzed back shortly saying Attorney Kubicki was on line #2. “Hey, Jack, Doug here. Look. I need a favor. One of my tellers was attacked by Mike Bonavena over the weekend and hospitalized overnight. Mike is in jail right now. Before he gets out, I need a protection order of some kind filed immediately to protect him. You know Mike’s temper. I can’t risk one of my employees being subjected to Mike’s harassment or more physical violence. How soon can you get it done? You’re at the courthouse now. Splendid. Eugene Newcomb. That’s New as in Not Old. And Comb like the thing a bald man doesn’t need. Bill the bank. What do you mean – no charge? Oh, you’ve seen Gia perform. Well, thanks. You have a good day, too. Bye.” He smiled at Eugene. “Seems your performances as Gia are appreciated by older folks, too. You’ll have that order in your hands later today, so you won’t have to worry. Now go back to your window and smile. Continue making our customers happy.”
“Thank you, sir.” Eugene was leaving the office when he heard Douglas talking to Marge again, this time about the problems with their private accounting firm. They were supposed to come and audit the mortgage and loan department before the bank inspectors arrived next week and they were delaying due to not having anyone free until Friday. Douglas was not in the least pleased.
Eugene wished Dillon’s phone was working. He would tell him to hightail it to Holcomb and Harrison. Maybe he could get something temporary but the news would have to wait until he got home. He hoped Dillon’s job search would yield no results. It would be nice if they were working the same hours, even if only temporarily. By two o’clock he had the protection order in hand duly signed by Judge Padmonsky. He felt much safer now, knowing that after the arraignment hearing before the magistrate, Mike would probably be free on bail.
“Lucy, I’m home,” he shouted in his best Cuban accent as he came through the front door.
“God, what a day! Spent hours searching online for positions. Even freaking MacDonald’s demands a phone number on their online application. Without it, I couldn’t even get to their third screen. I’m beginning to hate my father.”
“Well, I might have found something for you – at least temporarily. He recounted the entire day highlighting his meeting with Mr. Fredericks about the protection from abuse order, and then the overheard comment about Holcomb and Harrison. “It seems they are temporarily short-handed. Tomorrow morning I think you should go see them and make yourself available. I know you don’t want a career in accounting, but you have the know-how and it would be something to tide you over until you find what you really want to do. And Holcomb and Harrison count on a lot of the bank’s business.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a shot, but don’t get your hopes up. Accounting firms are pretty selective about who they will hire.”
“I think if you were good enough for Johns Hopkins to offer you a job, you should be good enough for Holcomb and Harrison. God knows you are good enough for me. All day long I kept thinking my mouth has recovered enough to give you a little oral loving. Let’s go upstairs and we’ll eat later.”
The house was deserted when Eugene came home from work on Tuesday. It was as quiet as it had been for years when he came home from the bank – just the low hum of the air conditioner in the living room. He was torn between worry that Dillon had opted to leave him and town, and anxiety that something serious had happened to Dillon. His worry was gone when he got to the bedroom to change and saw Dillon’s suitcase still resting on the closet floor. He wished Dillon had a phone so he could call him. He opened the refrigerator to get some inspiration on what to make for dinner and was still musing the possibilities when he heard Dillon’s car pull into the driveway.
“Gia, throw your best dress on,” Dillon shouted as he walked in the house. “We’re going out for dinner to celebrate. You are talking to the newest staff member of Holcomb and Harrison. Look, they even gave me a pocket protector.”
“Honey, that’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you. But you don’t really want dinner with Gia. But I know Eugene would love to accompany you.”
“Good. I’m in the mood for a top man tonight anyhow. Go, throw some fancy clothes on and let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Your choice – French, Italian, Mexican.”
“Casa d’Oro. You have to try their peach or pineappl
e margaritas. You’ll think you died and went to Mexico City. I haven’t been there in months. Mr. Fredericks introduced me to their food. Fabulous.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“And as an appetizer you have to try their stuffed Idaho with Monterey Pepper Jack, shredded beef, sour cream, tomatoes, onions, and guacamole. That one’s taste will send you right to heaven.”
“Okay, go get changed. I’m starving. And know that like a potato – even a second class one from Idaho and not Maine – when we get home, it’s your turn to stuff me.”
They had a most pleasant meal, being dutifully attended to by a young lady named Juanita. Dillon detailed his whole day. “I interviewed with a Mr. Southard. He was not overly impressed with me, for he had never heard of Husson University. But he liked that my degree also included Computer Information Systems. Then when he found out that I had already taken and passed the Uniform CPA exam and gave him my numbers, he immediately called in Mr. Holcomb who put me right to work with a Susan Forbes. We got along quite well and when she found out I was staying with you, she smiled and commented that Eugene is a nice man and Gia is a great performer. I think she was a little relieved when she figured I wasn’t going to try and hit on her. Together we got all the entries corrected for Simms Construction Company and for The Faculty Lounge and Restaurant. We had lunch and spent the afternoon finishing second quarter taxes for three other companies in town. Mr. Southard was rather impressed with how well we worked together, although we spent a good thirty minutes trying to find a $.09 cent error for Simms. Someone had reversed a number in the cents column. Wrote $175.21 instead of $175.12. But I found it and we corrected it so everything balanced. Can’t wait until tomorrow. I actually am a little excited about it. It’s real now – not just some exercise in a college course.”
They went home stuffed and Dillon moaned happily as he got stuffed with meat and man cream.
Chapter Nine
Wednesday morning Eugene dressed quickly, kissed Dillon goodbye, and instead of the bank he headed to the magistrate’s office to meet with the Assistant District Attorney to review the events of Friday night. The hearing was scheduled for eleven and the two policemen and the one paramedic were also present as well as Wayne and one of his security staff. A few minutes before eleven, Mike Bonavena, manacled and dressed in an orange jumpsuit, was escorted into the small courtroom where he engaged in a quick conversation with his lawyer, after he gave a menacing sneer toward Eugene.
In half an hour the hearing was over. Mike was bound over for trial, but the magistrate agreed with the lawyer that bail was a reasonable request. Mike was reminded not to be anywhere near Eugene. He was released from custody in the afternoon when he posted the required bail.
Eugene was back to his teller’s cage by one. He received a bit of a shock just before three when Dillon and a young woman left one of the back rooms and headed directly into Mr. Frederick’s office for a brief conference before leaving the building.
On his way home Eugene stopped at the supermarket for some groceries. As he left the market, he noticed Mike Bonavena leaning against his 1975 canary yellow Chevy Camaro with the black stripes on the hood. He was taking several swigs from a pocket flask. He first waved at Eugene and then flared him and started some ominous chuckling. Eugene hurried to his car and sped out of the parking lot.
“Boy, have you got trouble!” Dillon said as Eugene entered the house.
“I’ll say! Just saw Mike Bonavena in the parking lot at the market. He fucking gave me the finger as if to say he was really going to fuck me over.”
“He’s out?”
“Yes. The magistrate let him out on bail, pending the trial.”
“Oh shit. What’ll we do?”
“If it happens again, I’ll let the cops know.”
“Well, when I said you’ve got trouble, I meant at the bank. Susan and I got assigned to go over the records of the mortgage and loan department. What do you know about a Stan Waters?”
“He’s been with the bank for years. Nice guy. Married. Two kids in college. Sort of the life of the party at our Christmas party. Why?”
“The man is inept. Careless math errors. Mortgage and loan payments made and credited but the principle didn’t decrease. Found two properties where the mortgage and loan has not been paid for over six months, but no evidence that foreclosure proceedings were initiated. Mr. Fredericks was not impressed with our first findings. It’s going to take us at least a week to get everything straightened out. God knows what else we’ll find tomorrow. I know the bank has the logo “We’re the kind-hearted bank” but letting unpaid mortgage and loans go untended is not sound practice. The bank examiners will have a fucking field day crucifying you guys.”
“That bad?”
“That bad. But I think it’s all fixable. So, what did you buy?”
“Just some fresh shrimp and scallops and some lemons. Thought we’d have scampi tonight. And a nice salad.”
“Sounds good. I’ll make the salad.”
While they were dining, they were disturbed by a car honking its horn in front of the house. Eugene looked out in time to see a 1975 canary yellow Chevy Camaro with black stripes on the hood just driving away. It happened two more times that night.
On Friday, Mike entered the bank, coughing loudly to get everyone’s attention. He stared at Eugene but approached a teller at the far end of the counter and cashed a small check. The entire time Eugene felt his eyes burning into him.
He was back on Monday with an evil stare to cash another check again.
On Wednesday, Mr. Fredericks along with a security guard approached Mike and told him in the future to cash his personal checks at his own bank. That night the horn-blasting Camaro paid another visit on Eugene’s street. Friday at closing Eugene found a computer printed note on his windshield. “You’re gonna burn in flames, faggot.”
It upset him, but it didn’t stop him. It was Friday Night Show Night and he was damned if what had happened would stop him from performing. All week he had been rehearsing, even getting suggestions. He was doing a tribute to Shirley Bassey starting off with “Goldfinger” and “I Am What I Am” from La Cage. His last number would go back to his campy trollopy self with “Big Spender.” Flame would be doing three lighter numbers including “Can’t Get a Man with a Gun” from Annie Get Your Gun. Beth had asked to perform in this show as Dick Hardy and was doing “Soliloquy” from Carousel. Gia, having heard Dillon perform it at karaoke, had suggested it.
Dillon helped him get ready and gathered the dresses from the guest room closet while Eugene started his makeup. He was so proud of Eugene for not bowing to Mike’s not-so-subtle pressure. Gia made a spectacular entrance that night into Wayne’s Wild West Way Station, not heading directly to the bar’s back showroom to get ready as usual, but mingling, flirting with the customers. This was her night and Michael Bonavena be damned! She was an entertainer and the show would go on.
The place was quickly crowding up. Some people were simply there to show their support for Gia and others because they knew the place would be packed and it would increase their chances of scoring. The outside parking area was nearly full. One of the security guards was a little leery of a problem when they saw the yellow Camaro turn into the lot, but relaxed when he saw that it was only Pete Belk, Mike’s friend, driving. As Pete looked to be alone, he motioned him around to one of the few remaining parking spaces in the rear of the building.
Several minutes passed and there was no sign of Pete coming around to enter the bar. Another guard went to investigate and got a whiff of gasoline in the air. He called on his walkie-talkie for assistance in the back immediately. Two security guys came charging out the back door and caught Mike Bonavena dousing the back of the building with the fuel. The rear door of the Camaro was open and a huge blanket lay bunched up on the floor. They had Mike on the ground in an instant. He vainly struggled with them, trying to get his hands free enough to grab the lighter he had brought. They held Mike unt
il the police arrived. He was quickly in cuffs, as was Pete; one for attempted arson and the other for criminal conspiracy. The fire department was called and began hosing down the rear of the building.
Inside, just as the show was about to start, Wayne grabbed the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am afraid I have to ask you all to leave. For your safety, we are closing due to an unforeseen emergency. Mike Bonavena allegedly just tried to torch the building. The problem is contained but the gasoline has soaked into the wood at the back of the building. Please come back tomorrow when the danger is removed. Showtime will be 11:00 tomorrow if Gia, Dick, and Flame agree.” They nodded assent. He continued, “Please pick up a token from one of the front bartenders and everything will have reduced prices tomorrow for you. I appreciate your patronage and regret this inconvenience. Please be orderly in your departure. There is no need to rush out of here, but I would like the place empty in the next ten minutes. Thank you for your cooperation and please don’t light up a smoke outside.”
As Dillon was carefully laying Gia’s dresses in the trunk of his car, he overheard Pete conversing with one of the officers. “Honest to God, I had no idea what he was going to do. He picked me up about 8:00. We hit the 400 Club and then the 702 and Mindy’s. Then he said he wanted to see the show but didn’t want to go in the front. Said he heard Beth was performing and he wanted to surprise her. I was supposed to go in and secretly open the back door for him. He insisted that I drive and he climbed into the back and got under the blanket. When he got out, he had the gas with him. I guess it was already under the blanket. When I tried to stop him, he just looked at me like a maniac, said if I tried to stop him, he would kill me, and I knew he meant it. I had rarely seen him look like that before. It was the same look he had when he was about to pulverize an opposing lineman in college and high school. I was just about to come and get security when they saw him.”