MAYBE THIS TIME

by Duncan More

  “I won’t, sir. And thank you!”

  A formal application and a binding contract were signed, books were selected, and Dillon started studying them in the car as he waited for Eugene.

  “So how was lunch?” Eugene immediately asked as he slid behind the wheel.

  “Unbelievable! He offered me a job. I’m going to be working with you. He wants me to start on Monday as manager of the mortgage and loan department. I’m so excited. He’s paying me $42,500 to start. That’s more than Baltimore was offering.”

  The news had a mixed effect on Eugene. He was glad Dillon had a job working with him, but that was four grand more than he was earning and he had already been at the bank for five years. He tried to hide his emotions. “That’s great! Now I’ll have someone to share driving duties with.”

  “Can we stop somewhere and get a cheapie phone? I’ve got to let my mother know. I can get a smart phone with my first paycheck and pay you half the rent. Think of the vacations we can take together with the money we’ll save – Europe, cruises, Caribbean islands. Oh, honey! We have the world at our feet!”

  Suddenly Eugene was caught up in Dillon’s excitement. Now the salary differential didn’t seem to matter that much. The household income was more than doubling. What money he had been able to save had been minimal; now he wouldn’t have to restrain his spending as much. The house alone took half of his pay with rent, utilities, television, and heat. He had never thought of sharing expenses with anyone previously, mainly because he had never met anyone he wanted to share a house with, much less a life. Now he had both.

  Dillon was sitting at the kitchen table starting to initialize his new phone when Eugene’s phone jingled. Eugene handed the phone to Dillon. “It’s your mother.”

  She told him that after much argument his father had agreed to restore his phone service.

  “He doesn’t have to, Mom. I just got a new phone. I was just setting it up to call you. The number is 570-393-2297. Yes, I’m sure Eugene will be relieved to know that all his phone calls will be for him. Yes, Mom, I agree. He’s a very nice person. No, I can afford a phone. I had a temporary job with an accounting firm. We had to audit a bank. And I found the job most enjoyable – not really work. Well, the bank president was so impressed with me that he offered me a permanent job. Just started today in the mortgage and loan department. And I don’t want to brag but the salary is larger than Dad’s. So you don’t have to worry about me. Look, I have to run. I’ll call you early Saturday afternoon and we’ll really talk. I love you, Mom.”

  “How come you didn’t tell her that you were going to be the manager of the mortgage and loan department?”

  “I didn’t want to brag. It’s not my style. Besides, when she tells my father I’m starting off earning more than him, it’ll gall the hell out of him. That will be enough satisfaction. Now, do you mind if I just have a sandwich later? I’m still stuffed from lunch. And I really have to start studying these books on Pennsylvania’s banking laws and regulations.”

  “Sounds good. I think there is some of that pea soup left. I can reheat that.”

  “Nope. All gone.”

  “Then how about if I run out and get us a pizza a little later?”

  “Okay. Make sure it has extra cheese on it and whatever toppings you like.”

  “I was thinking white pizza. Garlic, cheese, onions. Maybe some mushrooms too.”

  “Sounds great to me.”

  “Go study. I’ll just take a short nap. Wake me up at 7:30. I’ll get the pizza and we can eat about 8:30.”

  Eugene’s sleep was disturbed when Dillon climbed onto the bed. He awoke when he finally sensed fingers gently dancing all over his chest.

  “You told me to get you up at 7:30. And I’d really like to get you up.” Dillon was quickly kissing his chest as his hand began massaging his crotch. Very quickly his boxers were tenting.

  “You keep that up and I’ll be saying, ‘Fuck the pizza. Fuck my ass’.”

  “That was my plan. Why share a white pizza when we can share white cream!” Dillon’s body immediately covered Eugene’s, as lips met, bare chests clung together, and crotches began gyrating against each other. Soon two naked bodies were joined, each giving the other the pleasure they needed. Two hours passed before sweaty spent bodies finally left the bed for a shower and a quick sandwich in the kitchen.

  “One book down and three to go. Boy, are you aware of some of the quirky rules this state has? My god, your lawmakers are nuts. All the hoops customers have to jump through in order to get a loan? It was probably easier to get Neil Armstrong onto the moon and back.”

  “I know. Banks want you to give us your money, but make it hard for the reverse. Want to watch The Tonight Show or Late Night?”

  “Neither. Just want to go back to bed and snuggle. The perfect ending to the most memorable day of my life.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Eugene saw very little of Dillon on Thursday or Friday. His face was stuck in a book and he had a full notepad always at his right hand. Things at the bank were a little tense, particularly in the mortgage and loan department, where the four members were jockeying for Stan Waters’ old position, completely unaware of Dillon’s hiring and position. Boyd Hopkins in particular felt the job should be his as he had seniority. He was so sure he spent most of Thursday bringing every one of his accounts up to the minute, crediting on-line payments the moment he got a computer notification. Friday he spent time cleaning his desk, throwing out memos and little post-it notes that were crumpled and outdated. Empty candy wrappers, broken pencils – all we discarded and he was merely killing time waiting to be summoned to Mr. Frederick’s office for the official offer. One o’clock came and went, then two, and then two-thirty, and nothing! And then three o’clock marked the end of the day as the front door was locked, drawers were tallied and vaulted, leaving Sam Waters alone at the drive-thru window and a security guard who would leave with him at five. Mr. Fredericks had departed without any word whatsoever. Boyd Hopkins and the other three were dumbfounded. They had all presumed some announcement would be made.

  “I guess Mr. Fredericks wants to take the weekend to make his final decision,” Gregory Phelps said as they prepared to leave. “I thought he would tell you or me the job was ours, Boyd.”

  “Yes, so did I. Guess we have to wait until Monday for the surprise. Quite frankly, I planned on going up to the cottage with my wife and celebrating. Now I think it will be just to mow the grass and do a little fishing.”

  “Lucky you. My wife already planned on us cleaning out the garage for a yard sale next week. I had hoped with this promotion I could talk her out of it for a little dining and dancing. Haven’t done it in years and there’s a special 40’s dance band at The Old Corner Hotel on Saturday. I’ll think of you out on the lake while I’m hauling trash from the garage. Have a good weekend.” They exited the employee’s door, each slightly downcast.

  Eugene finished balancing his drawer and headed home. Gia had a guest appearance tonight at Wayne’s just doing a solo number. Flame was hosting an amateur night, not only for wannabe drags, but anyone who wanted to showcase their talents. He still secretly hoped he could talk Dillon into singing something, although his earlier attempts had been in vain.

  “Oh, honey, I can’t. This book is nearly five hundred pages thick. I’ve still got over a hundred to go. How about we just get a pizza and you go and knock ’em dead. I’ll stay here and finish up this book. You see the pile of notes I’ve taken today! I killed one pen completely. Then, when you get home, we’ll free you from your gaffe and I mean really free you. I’ll be so ready for a little bedtime romp.” He gave Eugene a little hug and a kiss and went back to his reading.

  Eugene headed upstairs to rummage through the Gia closet. He hadn’t decided what song he was even going to perform yet. He saw a parasol in the corner and thought about “Hello, Dolly”; he spied the pillbox hat and thought about “One Halloween” from Applause; and then he spied the pink babyd
oll pajamas and thought seriously about Cher’s “We All Sleep Alone”; nothing leaped out at him – he wanted something comic and light. And then there it was – the ragged, dirt-covered, misshapen, ill-fitted chemise and Gia knew that was the outfit for the night to go with the song “Happily Ever After” from Once upon a Mattress. A quick scanning of his wig heads on the top shelf and he found one he could disarrange into a scraggy, totally disheveled look. His Princess Winifred (Fred to her friends) would look as unroyal as conceivably possible. He dashed to his computer, opened his music files, downloaded the tune to a USB for the DJ, and rehearsed it a few times to refresh his memory of the words and the timing. All was right in Gia’s world. Eugene’s world seemed like it would be an empty night without Dillon there. He ordered the pizza and drove to get it. Delivery always took forever to get to Rupert’s Crossing, and Mario’s Pizzeria also had the homeliest, most pimply-faced teenage boys delivering – never looking like the pizza boys in the porno films. He imagined if someone told them they wanted to suck their dicks, they’d all run right to the priest for confession. He picked up a bottle of cabernet to go with it. They dined and Dillon went right back to his books and Eugene went upstairs to shower and become a plain Jane version of Gia.

  Dillon found Gia mingling in the crowd at the bar when he arrived. “Well, here I am. You probably found the only way to get me out of the books. Two glasses of wine and I just couldn’t concentrate. So let’s party. I’ll study really hard all day tomorrow.”

  “As soon as I do my number. You wouldn’t believe the number of people here who can’t believe Gia would ever look like this. Guess I got them too accustomed to unparalleled beauty. Wait till they see the number! You gonna sing?”

  “I don’t think so. Just here to support you. Besides, I don’t have any music.”

  “We can work on that. You’ve got such a beautiful voice. I’ll bet you could sing Edelweiss a cappella.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Oh boy! The things I need to teach you and Larry!”

  Flame was on stage. “That was Cherry Picker doing “Owner of a Lonely Heart.” Let’s have a big hand on her debut here at Wayne’s Wild West Way Station. Next is another newcomer calling herself Hedda Gobbler. Gia, you’re after Hedda. Humph – that used to be our Gia, always after head. Not no more though. I see your Dillon in the crowd.”

  Hedda wasn’t much of a performer – too stiff, bad timing of the words, poor makeup – but the crowd was merciful and gave polite applause when she was finished.

  “Now here’s our Gia and she’s carrying a book. My god, brains as well as beauty. Are you ready for this, Way Stationers!!!”

  Gia, allegedly reading, “And so the young prince Waldere, having slain the dragon Fafner with his father’s sword Minning, rescued the Princess Frigga, and they mounted his horse Trigga and rode to the castle Voonderbar where they were married and they lived happily ever after. Well, I’m glad!(dripping with sarcasm)” And then the real performance began where Gia sang about Cinderella getting her prince with help from a fairy godmother, Snow White with help from seven little men, Rapunzel with her hair. And how she had no one to help her become a bride and be thoroughly satisfied.” Whether because she was a house-favorite or they just enjoyed the presentation, Gia received vociferous adulation.

  “Now I get to hand my microphone over to Bill Thompson who will treat us to his stand-up routine before heading east some day to the Big Apple to make his fame and fortune. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a big hand for Bill.

  Gia changed backstage into Eugene and stood by Dillon as they enjoyed Bill’s routine about Mrs. Higgenbottom, his alleged third grade teacher. They stayed out of politeness for two more amateur drags before heading home to free Eugene from the gaffe and finish the wine and get all giggly in bed together.

  By early Sunday afternoon, Dillon was done with the books and they headed to Dyson’s Creek for a little fun. Sunday night Dillon reviewed his copious notes and they were ready for Monday morning.

  Mr. Fredericks, all smiles, walked into the mortgage and loan department early Monday morning, with Dillon right behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you all had a pleasant weekend. Right now I would like to introduce you to Dillon Evans. I’m sure you remember him since he was just here auditing your work before the examiners came.”

  “Welcome aboard,” said Greg Phelps. “It’ll be a pleasure working with you. You really know your accounting.”

  “Thanks,” Dillon responded.

  “Howdy,” said Victor Porter. He was the quiet man of the department. He came in, did his data entry, filed everyone’s printouts, worked through his lunch break, and left early to visit his sick mother. Dillon, finding few errors in his work, had had little interaction with him during the pre-audit.

  “Which desk do you want him to have?” Boyd Hopkins asked, certain it would be his as he moved to Sam Waters’ old position.

  “Sam’s,” Mr. Fredericks said. “I’m sorry. I thought about all of you for the job, but Mr. Evans here really impressed me. He’s got fresh ideas and I think could be the one to really improve the way this department does business. Sort of get us out of the old twentieth century mode of operation. He knows a lot about computers and what is to come using them. He will give this department and eventually all of us a breath of new life. Mavis, I trust you will personally give Mr. Evans everything he needs and promise me not to fatten him up with those delicious fudge brownies you make.”

  “No problem.” Mavis Williams was the first on board, for she had not really developed a yearning for Sam’s position. She was quite content conducting the initial interview with customers seeking to obtain a loan and getting the process initiated. She had a knack for reading people and deciphering who would be trustworthy, honest, and sincere. Perhaps that was the reason she was always cordial with Boyd Hopkins, but never let anything closer develop between them – simply business, mere civility, nothing more. She followed Dillon into the office and helped him set up, rearranging furniture, suggesting where to put plants to get the most sunlight, meanwhile conducting an interview. She explained how Sam had photos of his family on his desktop and she recommended he get one of his parents as it would have a positive effect on whoever came to his desk. It showed that though he was young, family was of great importance to him. Then she suggested he should have one of Eugene as well. “He is, after all, the one you care about. He’s quite the young man around here.” It was her way of letting Dillon know that she knew, and that she was not put off by that knowledge. She had already decided he had passed all of her criteria for being a good person.

  “What the hell is Fredericks doing?” Boyd asked as he stopped by Greg’s desk, “hiring a young kid like that! Right out of college. And he’s a swish too. Doing lunches with Eugene. Jesus! Soon Fredericks’ll have male employees prancing around and wearing eye shadow. Guess the kid must be giving him some damn good head or spreading his ass. Christ, it’s bad enough working for one and working with another one, but now to be working under one. Unbelievable!”

  “Just what’s upsetting you more – he’s young, he’s gay, or he might actually be better than either of us?”

  “What the hell do you think! I can’t stand fags.”

  “Maybe you’d be a little more tolerant if you had a son who, at fourteen, had the balls to tell you he’s gay. Mine did. Amazing how your perspective suddenly changes. You suddenly realize it’s not a choice – it’s what they are. Period. The only choice they make is to hide it or be open about it. You and I know we always liked girls. That’s normal – for us. This is what’s normal for my son. I don’t love him any less, but I do respect him a lot more.”

  “That’s just a load of bullshit, and you know it. It ain’t fucking normal. Period. ‘Man shall not lie with man as with woman.’ Bottom line. Now it’s like I’m condoning the sin. I can’t do that in good conscience. If I were younger, believe me, I would be out looking for a new job working with normal peopl
e.”

  “Well, you’re not younger, so learn to deal with the situation.”

  “I’ll deal with it all right. In my own way. I’ll bet one phone call to Fredericks’ buddy and this kid would be flying out of here so fast.”

  “Don’t be stupid. I thought I was just as qualified as you for Sam’s job except you got five years’ seniority. Fredericks had other ideas. Go with it. By the way, you need a small charcoal grill for your cottage cookouts?”

  “No. Why?”

  “My wife is selling our old one this weekend at our yard sale. How about a baseball glove or a box of my old vinyl records?”

  “Go on. Get out of here! Your records! I’d kill my wife if she even suggested it. She knows my Genesis and Foreigner albums are untouchable. Anyhow, I guess I should get back to work. Don’t want the new boss catching us loafing, I guess.”

  Tuesday after work, Doug Fredericks had a surprise when he got home and found Donald Bachstein in the kitchen peeling potatoes. “What are you doing home so early? I thought you had court all day.”

  “So did I. The prosecution was to finish his cross of the last witness and then the summations. Figured a lunch break and then I’d give the jury their directions and let them start deliberating. Got into court this morning and the defendant decided to accept a plea deal the prosecution made two months ago. Guess he didn’t want it to go to the jury. Five years and time served I presume suddenly sounded a lot better to him than twenty with no parole which is the state mandated guideline. Anyhow, I was home by noon. So how was your day? Fuck anyone?”

  “What? What do you mean, ‘Did I fuck anyone?’ I was at work.”

  “I’m sure you were. Did you fuck anyone at work?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Doug asked incredibly.

  “I just had an interesting phone call about thirty minutes ago. A man’s voice said you went into your new mortgage manager’s office and could be seen through the blinds bending him over his desk and ramming the old log in.” Then Donald started laughing uncontrollably. “Seems this new hire of yours has definitely ruffled somebody’s feathers. You haven’t been a top in the twenty-seven years we’ve been together, and from what you’ve said, you weren’t a top before either. Shows how much they know about us. Now if they said you were giving head – that I could conceivably visualize. No denying your talent there. But you plowing some young dude – I’m sorry – I don’t think it’s possible. However, you might have a problem on your hands with someone.”