MAYBE THIS TIME

by Duncan More

  Owen started laughing. “Pennsylvania hospitality. Is that the local way of saying I want to fuck your brains out?”

  Dillon started laughing. “Maybe it is. Maybe it is.”

  Eugene arrived shortly and wasted no time pouring a glass from the pitcher. Introductions were quickly done, and general conversation ensued, once he knew Owen was also gay. It meant he didn’t have to worry about revealing that part of his relationship with Dillon when they got to the house and Owen realized the sleeping arrangement and the wardrobe in the closet.

  Owen noticed a customer come in and kept his eye on him. He was tall, with a reversed baseball cap with a red B on it for the Boston Red Sox, muscled, wearing a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off, cut off blue jeans, and work boots. “Wow!” he finally said, “Will you check out that guy. I wish he’d offer some Pennsylvania hospitality. I’ll bet I could suck the freckles off his hairy arms!” Dillon burst out laughing at the hospitality allusion. Eugene motioned the guy to join them.

  “Owen, I’d like you to meet Larry. Larry, this is a friend of Dillon’s from Maine. Here for a job interview.

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said, sitting down next to Owen and shaking his hand.

  “Said he’d like to suck the freckles off your arms.”

  “Shit. Is that all? I got much better areas for a hot guy to work on.” Owen was a little embarrassed. “Sorry I’m not dressed for a pick-up. Just got finished painting the set at the theatre and stopped in for one or two cold ones before heading home to shower and get the paint off my body. What do you think, guys? Do I look better in these little spatters of the brown or the green?” he said, showing his arms. “Oh, and here’s some white dots!”

  “Definitely the green,” Eugene said.

  “Then I’ll keep the green ones.” He looked at Owen. “Eugene is the one with the fashion taste at this table. So, what brings another guy from Maine to Pennsylvania? Is this the start of the whole state migrating here?”

  “No, I came down for a job interview at the bank. Might end up working with these two.”

  “That’s nice. That would mean I could see what you would do with my freckles. How long you in town for?”

  “Probably going back tomorrow. Dillon said he wouldn’t let me drive back tonight. Too many hours of driving in one day.”

  “Why? How many hours did it take you to get here?”

  “Seven and a half. Should have only been six, but traffic around Boston and Hartford slowed me down.”

  “Then Dillon’s right. You should stay overnight. What motel you staying at?”

  “He’s staying with us.”

  “Damn! I was just going to ask him if he’d rather stay at my place than a motel. Show a little hospitality. Have someone scrub the paint splatters off my back. Use a few condoms. Of course, we could still do all that, and I could drop him off later back at your place, if he seriously was interested.” By now his right hand was on Owen’s thigh and felt a swelling dick.

  “Would that be rude of me to accept? Then I wouldn’t be putting you out in the morning rush to get ready for work. I can always find my way to the interstate and back home for the time being. I mean, it’s been two months. Slim pickins on campus during the summer, and I could really use a really good release.”

  “Fine with me,” Dillon said. “I know Larry is safe to be with, and no, it won’t affect our consideration for the job. Honestly.”

  Larry gave Owen’s crotch a little pat. “In that case, let’s finish our beers and head home and get this monster free from all this clothing.”

  Owen smiled as he rose from the booth. “Eugene, nice to meet you. Take care of my friend. Dillon, I’ll be back in Maine waiting to hear from you.” He followed Larry out the door, hoping in the morning he would be sitting gingerly behind the steering wheel.

  “Son of a bitch! Certainly not the way I thought things were going to pan out,” Dillon muttered once they were alone in the booth.

  “He’s not going to get the job, is he?” Eugene said matter-of-factly.

  “I don’t know. He’s among the most qualified. And I am not going to let someone’s personal life affect my decision. At least I don’t think I am. This has to be a business choice. You know, this is the first decision I ever made that’s going to really affect someone else’s life, other than calling you and asking if you wanted company. But you affected my life the first the day we met, unless you consider the fact that I stopped here and wanted a tee-shirt.”

  “I really don’t know how to answer that one. You see, I didn’t want you – not in the desirous meaning. I wanted sex. I needed a cock to suck, a man shooting off in my mouth. I had been having a real dry spell – happy-go-lucky Gia performing; unlucky Eugene going home alone to an empty bed. The last time had been after a St. Patrick’s blowout and he was so drunk and I was so drunk, it was a most unmemorable night. I know I asked, he said okay, and then we were in the back seat of his car behind the bar with his pants down. I don’t even remember his name or his face, just that he had a dick and not that big a one at that rate. I know you never asked about my history, but you knew I had one. You know I wasn’t a virgin by any means, but I was never a slut. But I’ve got needs and sometimes they demand satisfaction that isn’t met manually. Then you stopped back and I was in heaven. And then that week you were in Maine was pure hell for me. I missed you. Then I wanted you, not just your cock. After your call, I just muttered a quick ‘Thank you, Jesus’.”

  “You’re right. I never want to know your history. That’s the past. We have the present and the future. I sort of think of you as a library book. People checked you out, enjoyed you, and returned you so others could enjoy. Right now I think of me as a book from Barnes and Noble – you bought me, you took me home, and I am yours for a lifetime. Oh, and I don’t ever plan to return you to the library. They can fine me for eternity. And as for those needs of yours, you’ll never need to go manual again.”

  “Regarding those needs, I think we should head home.”

  “Yeah, let’s suck up and go suck all night. Eugene Gordon Newcomb, I love you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They were quickly home, rocking the bed, urging each other to climax, before they adjourned to the kitchen for a can of Chef Boyardee and a grilled cheese. Instead of watching the late-night news together on the sofa, Dillon went outside and sat on the porch stairs and stared up at the stars, the same ones that were shining on Maine and even London. He was just enjoying the majesty of the universe and realizing he had to make a decision that was going to alter someone’s life forever. Whether they lasted two months or twenty years, it was going to be life altering. A vet suddenly making enough to support a growing family and finish his college, a young lad getting his first job and learning a skill, a fellow graduate leaving Maine for a life in Pennsylvania, an unemployed man regaining his feeling of self-worth: one of them would have his life redirected; three of them would have their hopes dashed at least temporarily.

  He replayed each interview in his mind. He mentally reviewed their qualifications for the umpteenth time. He weighed the pros and cons of each against the other. He felt comforted when he heard the screen door close behind him and felt Eugene squat next to him.

  “You okay?” Eugene’s voice was consoling. They sat in silence for endless minutes. “Tough decision. Sorry I can’t help you.”

  “I think I’m pretty sure. Just want to talk with Tillie and see if she agrees.”

  “Afraid it won’t matter. You get the final say.” He gave Dillon a pat on the knee. “I’m going upstairs now. Come up when you are ready.”

  “I won’t be long.” Dillon looked up again at the massive firmament. He silently whispered a little prayer. “Dear God, please help me make the right decision.” He rose, went inside, shut off the lights, climbed the stairs, and soon felt the comfort of his man’s arm draped across his chest, holding him close.

  As the alarm clock sounded, he woke to find himself sti
ll in the same position and smiled. “Good morning, my love,” he said as he did most every morning. His hand reached over and tapped the snooze alarm, also as he did every morning. He felt Eugene’s gentle kiss on the back of his neck as he left the bed for the shower. They never kissed directly until teeth had been brushed and mouthwash gargled and swished. In seven minutes as the alarm sounded again, Dillon would exit the bed and head for the shower. He knew Eugene would already be toweling his body. As always, he would give Eugene’s muscular buns a quick slap and then pull the shower curtain closed. Their first kiss of the day never occurred until he entered the kitchen while the eggs were frying and the bread was toasting. Often the stove was turned off and the toast grew cold as the two towel-clad bodies pressed as much of their bodies together as they could. This morning was no different. Some mornings undeniable arousal occurred and they ended up eating egg sandwiches as they drove to the bank; other mornings they sat and talked.

  This was one of those mornings. “You all set to make your decision?”

  “Not quite. I’ve eliminated Nicholas. He’s too young. With his personality, he’d be great as a teller. He’s like you – a people person. I just can’t see him content to be in a cubicle working with numbers all day, and because of his age, I don’t think he’d get the respect from people he’d be contacting about delinquency.”

  “And the others?”

  “Still in the running. That’s why I want Tillie’s input. I mean, she has been doing this for years. She’s got the insight, much more than I. I know computers, I know banking, but she knows people.”

  “Fair enough. Of course, with you and me, it was all Mr. Fredericks’ doing. Neither of us had to go through her as an applicant.”

  “Probably if I had, I would still be a temp at Harrison and Holcomb, and Boyd would still be working here.”

  “So, tell me right now, who’s got the pole position?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll bet it’s Owen. You’ve re-thought everything and changed your mind. I know I have. As you said, he knows his stuff and I’m betting that college ties win out. And for him, being gay in small town Maine isn’t going to make the most pleasant of lives.”

  “We’ll see. I’ll let you know at lunch.”

  “Fine. Get the lettuce from the fridge, the cheese, sliced ham, tomatoes, and cucumbers. I’ll start chopping the salad. Pick out which dressing you want on them.” Eugene grabbed the huge plastic salad container from the cupboard and the croutons from the counter and began slicing and shredding ingredients into the container. They worked well as a team. They went upstairs, dressed, and headed to work.

  As Dillon headed to his office, Eugene entered the safe to get his cash drawer. Although Mrs. Crawford, in her duty as head teller, never made a mistake in preparing them for the day’s transactions, Dillon still recounted it. Each one of the bills in his main drawer, each stack of ones, fives, tens, twenties, fifties, and hundreds in his backup drawer. They were accurate. Like everyone else, he accepted that the coins in each roll were correct, as most were directly from the Federal Reserve.

  Promptly at nine, Dillon called Tillie, saying he wanted her final thoughts on the candidates, based on their backgrounds and interviews.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because you know the area and the people much better than I. And you’ve had much more experience. I know the final decision is mine, but I’d like your guidance.”

  “Okay, come on up.”

  Dillon took the elevator from his office in the basement to hers on the second floor next to the payroll department. The credit card department was farther in the rear. “Good morning,” he said as he sat in the chair next to her desk. “Okay, I narrowed it down to Keith Gower, Owen Hughes, and Peter Bonner. Based on your experience, which one would you go with?”

  “I should think it would be obvious. Your friend Owen has the best qualifications for the job: he has the degree, he’s a CPA so I would presume he is a stickler for accuracy, he knows the latest technology. I checked his references and they are all glowing., he was willing to make a seven-hour drive for the interview so his interest in the job is sincere.”

  “But he doesn’t know the area, he’d have to relocate, find a place to stay.”

  “True, but that would be part of my job if you go with him—to get him situated.”

  “What about Keith Gower? He was sort at the top of my list.”

  “Why?”

  “I think because he’s a vet. He could have gone right to college and got his degree like I did. Instead, he opted to serve our country – to protect us and then get financial help with his education. Now he’s got a family to support. He keeps himself meticulous, which to me indicates that he is meticulous in all he does, which the job entails. The fact that he has a gay brother means he’d have no problem with the fact Dillon and I are. And quite frankly, I don’t think a vet should have to be slinging donuts to support his family when he already is qualified for more than that.”

  “You make some very good points there. I could easily agree with you.”

  “Let’s go that route then. I can have him start training with Greg on Monday.”

  “Fine. I’ll call him and get the letters out to the other folks.”

  Dillon took the elevator back downstairs and relayed his decision to Victor, Greg and Mavis, before starting on his stack of entries from the preceding day’s mail. He had barely made any headway when there was a knock on his door and a very professional-looking lady came storming in.

  “So you’re the new guy – Dillon Evans! I’m Tori Roberts. I can only presume it was ignorance on your part to send me to appraise the Michaels house. I’m accustomed to getting called in for valuable properties for substantial loans. This was a complete waste of my time and normally the bank’s money. I won’t charge my fee this time for ten minutes’ worth of work, but in the future for something like this, you or one of your staff can do it.” She handed him a completed form: Gray and white wood-frame house, 5 rooms + bath, plastered walls and ceilings well-painted with a few patched dings, asphalt shingles needing replacement soon. Built c.1922. Unfinished cellar, gas furnace, hot air. On-street parking. Neighborhood – below-average similar style homes, probably built by a coal company. Front porch with three steps, small back porch off kitchen – 2 steps. Small yard. Exterior needs paint. Appraisal $19,500.”

  “Thank you for your work, Ms. Roberts. I must apologize. I was led to believe the property was in the $60-75K bracket. The owner was in a hurry to get a loan for a business venture. Drives a BMW. Normally we ask, as I am sure you know, for pictures before we even consider initializing the process. Again, I’m sorry, as this was definitely a waste of your valuable time, but thank you for your professionalism.”

  The sincerity of his apology apparently soothed the ruffled feathers, as her demeanor immediately changed.

  “You’re right. One quick look at a picture and Boyd would have been sent for a rough appraisal. I guess he’s off today. He wasn’t at his desk when I came in.”

  “Regretfully, Boyd hit a point in his career when he felt he couldn’t work under my supervision. We’re in the process of upgrading all of our record keeping to a new computer system, and he wasn’t comfortable with that change and other things. He offered his immediate resignation last week. We just finished interviewing.”

  “Too bad. Well, the world around us is constantly changing. It is my understanding that Greg is pretty good at rough estimates as well, but I guess you already know that. Keep me in mind for your tougher ones. As for this one, unless the loan is for 7.5 or less, I wouldn’t recommend it. You have a good day now. It was nice to meet you and I look forward to working with you in the future. Take care, Mr. Evans.”

  “You too, and please call me Dillon,” he said with a smile.

  “And I’m Tori.” She smiled as she left.

  He felt some satisfaction with their encounter. Yes, he had made a mistake referring the property to her,
but he had smoothed things over. Now he had a legitimate reason for not recommending Mr. Michaels the loan. He also learned that Greg could do the low-end appraisals and teach him at the same time. He also now had a form for such appraisals if the bank did not already have one.

  He asked Greg to take a break from his data entry work and come into his office. They had a pleasant conversation. The bank did have such a form which he produced from his file cabinet. They agreed it could use some updating and Ms. Roberts’ form was much more inclusive except for things on the property beside the house. Things like pools, outdoor sheds, detached garages, trees, shrubbery, and children’s play sets. Greg admitted that Sam Waters always opted to send Boyd as first choice to do appraisals, and now he would have to do some research on updated values of things – that it had been five years since he had actually done one. He also agreed to train Victor how to do appraisals, and Mr. Gower in all the procedures at the proper time.

  Their discussion was interrupted by a phone call from Tillie. She had just made contact with Keith Gower and informed him of the decision. He was coming in that afternoon to fill out all the paperwork required of a new employee: tax withholding forms, health insurance, and explanation of what coverage was included, social security, and individual retirement plans. Furthermore, he would be available to start training the next day, as he had Thursday and Friday off from the donut shop. He would give notice that Saturday and Sunday would be his last shifts.

  “Seems you can start training Keith tomorrow. He’s anxious to start and Tillie just okayed it.”

  “Very good, sir. Would it be impertinent of me to ask why you chose him?”

  “Not at all. He’s a vet – he put his life on hold to protect ours. He’s got a family to support and a degree he’s trying to finish, and he is local. Good for referrals.”

  “I like your reasoning. Listen. Mavis, Victor, and I do Taco Bell for lunch on Wednesdays. Would you like to join us?”

  “That sounds nice, but I’d better pass. Eugene will be down soon for salads. Tell you what. Put me down as a definite for next Wednesday. And maybe you could invite Keith as well, and we’ll make it an all-office kind of thing.”