by Duncan More
“Sounds good. Enjoy your lunch.”
“You, too. Take an extra fifteen minutes. I’m not watching the clock today.” That wasn’t exactly the truth. He was watching the clock, for he knew at one minute after noon, the elevator door would open and Eugene would come striding out. And right on time, the doors opened.
“So, when does Owen start?” Those were the first words he spoke as he neared Dillon’s office.
“He doesn’t.”
“What! I was sure we were having a houseguest for the next week or so until he gets a place of his own.”
“Sorry, opted to go with Keith. Just seemed to be the better thing to do. I’m sure Owen is already halfway home by now. Keith’s already made plans with Tillie to come in this afternoon and do all the paperwork and start his training with Greg tomorrow.”
“Well, he certainly is gung-ho.”
“Wait. This morning has been more eventful.” He reiterated the meeting with Tori Roberts. “How was your morning?”
“Slow but steady. Usual overnight business deposits. Merchants coming in for bundles of ones and fives and roles of quarters. A few with deposits and check cashing. A lot with Xmas Club payments. Maybe five with loan payments. Oh, one of those was Bill Troutman, one of those guys whose loan you renegotiated. Made a double payment. Seemed pleased to do it, too. Like he no longer had all the stress I had seen when he’d come in before. All chatty and jovial.”
They finished their lunches and returned for their afternoon shift. Promptly, as always, Dillon shut down his window and balanced his drawer, put it in the safe for Mrs. Crawford to double check and prepare for Thursday’s business, and was waiting in the car for Dillon to join him for the ride home. He cranked up the air conditioning and the radio. It was an oldies station and a song called “The Wayward Wind” was playing. As he listened to the words, an idea for performing it crossed his mind. Standing still as the narrative verses were performed, and then, holding an electric fan in his hand, having its breeze blow him around the stage during the repeated chorus of the song. He had the perfect wig for it – it would start off perfectly coifed, but with no hairspray on it, it could easily become disheveled with a little wind. Gia had a new comic number to prepare. Finding a copy of the song on-line was something he would do when they got home.
“All set?” he asked as soon as Dillon opened the passenger’s door.
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Owen is still in town, not almost home. Wants to meet us at Wayne’s. This is going to be a bit awkward. After inviting him down, I have to tell him he wasn’t chosen. I mean, I’m sure he spent over a hundred in gas, not to mention food, and the time spent on the road. I’m sure I’ll be called a son of a bitch or worse. All I can say, and it’s a total lie, is that Tillie didn’t think he’d be the right fit. Actually, she preferred him to Keith.”
“Well, let’s go get this over with then. But just a quick in and out. I’ve got a roast I have to get in the oven if we don’t want to be having an eight o’clock dinner.”
“What I’m really in the mood for is some seafood. You know us Maine boys. We grew up on seafood twice a week at least. Some creamy clam chowder, and a lobster or a couple of crab cakes, maybe some shrimp scampi. At the very minimum some cod or haddock. My treat. You must know a good seafood house.”
“Yeah, Cooper’s down in Scranton. Pick your lobster right from their tank. Of course, I could never do that. Knew one of them would die, but I couldn’t force myself to choose which one would be killed for me. Just let the chef grab one at random. Think they only serve the red chowder though.”
“That’s not really chowder. That’s just watery tomato soup with maybe bits of a clam or two thrown in.”
Eugene knew he would have to add the New England recipe to his skill set. He parked the car and they entered Wayne’s to find Owen already in a booth with Larry and a fresh pitcher of beer waiting.
“Glad you could make it,” Owen said, immediately filling the two empty pilsners that were waiting. “Dillon, I have to thank you for inviting me to interview. I never would have met Larry here and had the best night of my life. Not only did we go back to his place and suck and fuck, we went back to the theatre and added a second coat of paint and fucked right on the sofa on stage. Back at his place we got pretty hammered and screwed until almost three. He got up at seven, called off work, and we sucked and fucked some more. Don’t think either of us will be able to shoot again until at least ten tonight.”
“Maybe nine,” Larry said, finally interrupting. “Gia, I have to thank you. I have never met a guy who can throw a fuck like Owen here. He fucking wore me out both ways.” He had the biggest grin on his face. “You know me – my line of ‘Don’t bother fluffing the pillow, you ain’t staying the night’ just might be a thing of the past. I already asked him to stay until the weekend, and if he gets the job, it could be longer.”
“Well, I hate to throw a damper on that notion. Owen, I’m sorry. You weren’t chosen. I’m sure Tillie has already sent the letter out to you back in Maine.”
“That’s okay. While I would have liked working with you too, I had already decided to decline the offer. Didn’t seem quite right to me. But I do like what I’ve seen of the area. Larry’s taking me tonight to an all-gay bar down in Scranton. Can you imagine such a place in Bangor! The city would turn upside down. I remember their one and only Pride Parade. Less than one hundred people. Almost all college students from outside of the city. And half of them were spectators, not marchers. This year I made the trip down to Boston for their parade. What a difference! Some year I have to get to New York’s parade.”
Larry interrupted the reminiscence, “Was wondering if you two wanted to join us in the road trip?”
“Sorry, we already made plans to go out for dinner at Cooper’s. Dillon is dying for seafood. Maybe we could join you later. Which place are you going to – Copper Penny, Otto’s, Jimmy’s, Paradise?”
“You know me and my love of karaoke and Broadway,” Larry said. Dillon couldn’t help but notice that Larry’s left hand was busy under the table. “I was thinking of Scotty’s Vaudevilla around eight and then some dancing at Paradise around ten when the deejay starts.”
“There’s karaoke at Scotty’s? Since when?”
“Couple of months now. Every Wednesday with Dr. Joe and Mick E as hosts.”
“Didn’t know that. Maybe we’ll meet you there after our dinner. Dillon hasn’t been to any of the bars down there.” He looked at Dillon. “Scotty’s is where I first met Mr. Fredericks.”
“Is it jukebox karaoke or CD’s?” Dillon inquired.
“CD’s. He has to have two hundred of them.”
“Sounds like a plan. After today, I’d love a breather.”
“Then it’s a date. We’ll get there around eight. And you know with me that doesn’t mean sometime within an hour either way.”
“Dillon,” Owen said seriously, “I’m glad you came to meet us. I appreciate the job offer, but I had to let you know I was removing myself from consideration. I guess I’m like you in Baltimore. Sometimes you just know it’s not the right move. I just hope I can land on my feet as successfully as you did. Figure I’ll hang around here till the weekend and head north. Maybe stop in Boston. They’ve got lots of men and jobs, something I might find that’s a perfect fit, not that Larry here isn’t.”
“I can agree. He fits me as perfectly as a condom fits this dick of his.” Larry looked at Owen. “You know, if we head back to my place shortly, we could get a little afternoon delight in.” As they rose from the booth, Dillon couldn’t help but notice the erection Owen was sporting as a result of Larry’s out-of-sight hand action.
As soon as they were gone, Dillon said, “At least I know his trip down wasn’t in vain.”
They were just about finished with the beer when Wayne came over to the table. “Gia, do you mind if I ask you a question? I’ve heard through the grapevine that Dennis Mi
chaels is trying to open a bar and he cornered Flame and Jolene and you about performing there. Is there any truth to that?”
“Yes. He talked about us doing shows there late on Saturday nights. I told him flat out ‘No’. I enjoy performing here, like the place very much, and had neither the time nor the desire to be anywhere else unless RuPaul contacted me for his show. You don’t have to worry; the three of us are loyal to you.”
“Thanks. That’s nice to know. And I want you to know, the three of you have a home here for as long as you want. I promise you that.”
“I don’t think you really have anything to worry about with Mr. Michaels, unless he suddenly wins the lottery. He strikes me as a man who is all bluster and bravado with no substance to his pipe dreams. Just sayin’.” Dillon gave a little smile that seemed to reassure Wayne.
“That’s good. Darcy told me he had offered her a job down the line – said she worked well with a straight crowd or a gay crowd. Paul told me he was being offered an afternoon/evening position. I don’t think much of someone who tries to poach employees from other businesses. Rather underhanded. All my employees found me; I didn’t have to go hunting or stealing. Advertised I was hiring when I first opened and all changes have been made over the years from people who let me know they were interested in working here if a vacancy occurred. And I’ve found all of them to be honest and hard-working. Actually, I only ever had to fire two people in twelve years of business – one for drug use and one for being constantly late. All the others came, worked a few years, and then decided they had enough and wanted to move on with their life.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cooper’s was a brightly-lit restaurant with huge windows that looked out on a busy street filled with passing cars and pedestrians who just had to look in through the windows at the customers. Dillon and Eugene only had to wait in the vestibule for a few minutes before the hostess escorted them to a four-top on the back wall and gave them menus. A waitress quickly approached for a beverage order. Eugene was a little surprised they were given a four when there was a deuce right next to them, until he saw a reserved sign on it.
Looking it over, Dillon had trouble deciding between the shrimp diablo, a 5-oz. tail, or the crab cakes. It wasn’t that he was being fussy, but he knew that a 5-oz. tail had probably come frozen and not nearly big enough, and he didn’t think any whole lobster was worth $34.95. And they weren’t even good Maine lobsters. They were Brazilian imports! And Manhattan clam chowder was definitely out of the question. Even $9.95 for a dozen clams seemed outrageous. Nothing like the prices in Maine. He was thankful there was a cheddar-broccoli soup on the menu. He coupled that with two crab cakes served with Worcestershire sauce and French fries with a side cruet of vinegar and a house salad with ranch. Eugene caught the waiter’s puzzled look as Dillon ordered the vinegar. Evidently it was a New England thing. He had topped French fries with ketchup, chili, and even gobs of melted cheese, but never heard of vinegar, but it did make sense. He liked salt and vinegar chips. The waiter liked his more local kind of order of Manhattan, seafood alfredo, baked with sour cream, and salad with French. The waiter put the order in and hurried to the bar to pick up their orange crushes made with tangerine vodka.
They had just started on their soup when the hostess guided a couple, probably in their upper seventies, to the deuce next to them. “Here you are, Mr. Smith. Your favorite table. They watched in amazement as Mr. Smith helped his wife off with her sweater and draped it carefully over the back of the chair and then held it as he seated his wife. He unbuttoned his brown suit jacket as he sat across from her and adjusted his tie.
“Hi. How are you?” their waiter said as soon as they were comfortable.
“Just fine.”
“Doctor’s appointment went well?”
“Yes. According to the doctor we’ve got at least another six months since that’s when he made our next appointment,” Mrs. Smith said with a little laugh.
“Wonderful. Two iced green teas to start?”
“As always.”
“Would you like a menu or go with the usual? There is a chef’s special this week of Seafood Crepes filled with shrimp, scallops and lobster, then topped with lobster sauce.”
“Oh, that sounds delicious. Is there dairy in the sauce?”
“Yes, sour cream and blue cheese.”
“Then we’d better pass. She’s become lactose intolerant. We’ll just go with the usual pot roast and gravy. But thank you, Andrew.”
“I should visit the little girl’s room and wash my hands,” she said. He rose immediately and remained standing until she was away from the table. When he sat back down, he looked at the boys and nodded, saying “Good evening.”
“Good evening to you too, sir,” Eugene said. “Seems they know you pretty well here.”
“They should. Stella and I first met here. Been coming ever since. At least once a week, except when there’s a heavy snow. Even snowstorms didn’t stop us twenty years ago.”
“How long have you been coming here?” Dillon inquired.
“1957. Of course, lobster was a whopping $1.50 back then. I was making fifty cents an hour. So that was like seven hours work after taxes. We’d come and pig out on clams at a penny each, right here at this very spot. Different table now, but the spot’s the same.” He rose again as she neared the table and he seated her. “I was just talking to these two young gentlemen, while you were gone.”
She looked over. “It’s nice to see two friends dining out.”
“I think they’re more than friends. The one keeps looking at the other the same way I still look at you.”
“Oh, that’s really nice. My cousin, God rest his soul, could never look at his boyfriend like that when he was their age. He had to keep everything so hush-hush. Then my aunt found out the truth and threw him out. They had to go to New York and get lost among those millions in order to be themselves. Never saw him again. Got word he died there back in the early 1980s of that dreaded disease. Hope you boys are being careful.”
“We are, ma’am,” Eugene said.
Albert brought the salads for Eugene and Dillon and the green tea for the Smiths. “Your pot roast will be right out. The chef is cutting the meat into smaller pieces for you.”
“Well, you boys, enjoy your dinner out together,” she said, “and treasure these nights out together. They are special.” She then directed her conversation to her husband. “You know, we always meet such nice people here. I noticed they put new wallpaper up in the ladies’ room.”
Eugene directed his quieter attention to Dillon. “I didn’t think my feelings for you were so obvious that a total stranger could see them in my eyes.”
“He didn’t. He’s sitting on the same side of the table as you. It had to have been mine.”
“Okay, tell me. What did you mean when you hinted to Wayne that he really didn’t have to worry about Dennis Michaels?”
“Honey, I can’t ethically tell even you the particulars. Let’s just say he doesn’t have sufficient collateral for his requested loan. By law, I may have to present the loan request to the board of directors; I don’t have to recommend it. In fact, in good conscience I couldn’t possibly do that. Fiscally so unsound.”
“I won’t push you for the particulars, but boy, am I glad to hear that. There is just something about the guy. I don’t know what it is, but I wouldn’t ever trust him. He just seems underhanded the way he approached Flame and Jolene and me. And if he went after Darcy and Paul as well, it’s like he’s targeting Wayne’s before he even opens, and I find that despicable. I couldn’t begin to tell you about the benefits Wayne’s has hosted for the betterment of the whole community or residents who have suddenly faced a financial crisis.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like Joe Hardy whose house burned down, or Chris Jones whose daughter needed emergency surgery down in Philadelphia. Wayne underwrote the whole cost of the helicopter to life-flight her there, with no need for public adulation
. And groups that need ads placed in programs to defray costs, he’s one of the first to buy a full page, be it the local theatre group or the high school yearbook or the police athletic league. He even is a sponsor of the local little league buying the kids bats, balls, and gloves as needed. He’s always giving back.”
“Wow! He just went up ten notches in my estimation.”
“That’s the reason I would never leave him as a regular customer.” They finished their dinner and joined Larry and Owen at Scotty’s Vaudevilla for some karaoke. It was an experience singing in an almost all-gay environment and Eugene couldn’t stop himself from singing “Sweet Caroline” and dedicating it to ‘his’ Dillon. He grinned as he altered the words from “Sweet Caroline” to “Sweet guy of mine.” And he hogged the microphone for a repeat where he urged everyone to join in singing, substituting the new words with guy or gal, and had the entire house singing along. Owen eventually took a turn on the microphone and shocked everyone as he sang, using his brash tenor voice coupled with a great falsetto. Emboldened by some beer, together with Larry they attempted The Righteous Brothers’ I Believe before heading out for a little dancing together. Dillon and Eugene just headed home for a little together-time before succumbing to sleep.
Chapter Twenty
Shortly after Dillon had arrived at work, Keith Gower came into the office, all spit and polish, ready to start his training. Dillon reintroduced him to Greg so he could observe everything on what to do and how to do it and to ask questions. About an hour later Mr. Fredericks came down to formally meet the new employee. He was impressed with his appearance and the questions he heard him asking Greg.
“There was another reason I came down. Let’s go into your office and ask Tillie to come down.” Dillon was a little surprised. People went to Mr. Fredericks’ office, not vice-versa, but he led the way and shortly Tillie joined them. “We have a staffing problem for the second time this month. Mrs. Crawford, as you know, is over five months pregnant. Well, this morning she gave me notice. This is not going to be an easy pregnancy for her and her doctor has just recommended a lot of bed rest, so she will be leaving us next Friday after ten years. I was wondering if, instead of going through another round of interviews, you could suggest someone you just interviewed for a position as teller.”