Dilly and Boz

by John Inman

  Bobby’s breath caught on a sob. But then, as quickly, he let the anger flood back in.

  The hurt in his eyes was replaced by hate. He could feel it there, seething.

  Boz. Everything wrong with his life was because of Boz.

  Painstakingly, his hands steadier now that the drugs were kicking in, Bobby poured out the rest of the meth and arranged it in one long, perfect line. Then left it where it was.

  With the hatred still surging inside him, he pulled himself to his feet and headed for the shower. His cock was already growing hard again. But he couldn’t think about his dick right now. All he could think about was that line of crystal waiting for him on the nightstand.

  He stopped halfway to the bathroom, fists clenched, staring down at the floor. He lifted his eyes and stared around at his filthy apartment, remembering how it used to be when he didn’t live alone. Remembering how it used to be when someone actually lit up when he walked through the door.

  He whirled where he stood and raced back to the nightstand, where he dropped to his knees, gathered up the rolled dollar bill, and quickly snorted away the remaining meth.

  At that moment, he realized how unfair it all was. And how much he hated himself for letting his life go to shit like this.

  But most of all, how much he hated Boz Jenkins for making it happen.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “NOBODY WALKS a cat,” Boz said.

  Dilly smirked. Grace, properly haltered and having the time of her life, which she clearly considered her due, slunk along in front of him, ears flat to her head. She was stalking a sparrow. They were moving through a patch of shade in Balboa Park, less than a block and a half from either of their homes. But if you went by Grace, they were on the plains of the Serengeti. Dilly was holding her teddy bear, which she had insisted on bringing along, then promptly dropped and forgot about the second she spotted live game.

  “As you can see, you’re clearly wrong,” Dilly huffed. He and Boz both stared at Grace, whose ass was swaying back and forth as she prepared to pounce on the poor, unsuspecting bird.

  Grace launched her attack so quickly that Boz and Dilly both jumped. At the same precise moment, the sparrow took off for parts unknown. Dilly swore he heard it snickering as it swept away over their heads, losing itself in the treetops. If Grace was disappointed, she didn’t look it. She simply continued to stalk through the grass, cool and undeterred, seeking fresher—and slower—game.

  Dilly turned his eyes on Boz, who was holding an empty leash. He could faintly hear Leon snoring softly from the confines of Boz’s backpack, which Boz had rakishly draped over his left shoulder.

  “And how many people do you know who walk their dog with the dog stuffed inside a bag?” Dilly asked, trying to nibble a grin off his lips.

  Boz’s eyebrows gave a disgruntled leap. He clearly didn’t have an argument, and he knew it. “Touché, little one. You’ve got me there.”

  Their eyes came together and they shared an amused snort. “How old is Leon, anyway?” Dilly asked.

  Boz started tapping his fingertips, doing the numbers in his head. He looked up. “If we’re counting in people years, he’s about a hundred and thirty.”

  “Lovely.”

  Dilly edged closer to Boz as they walked along. He stretched his arm around and dipped his hand inside Boz’s backpack. He ruffled one of the fuzzy ears he found down in the darkness and was promptly rewarded by the lick of a tongue and a gentle nip from a mouthful of tiny teeth.

  “The little rascal’s awake,” Dilly said. “Shouldn’t we let him out?”

  “It won’t last,” Boz answered. And sure enough, while Dilly continued to fiddle with Leon’s ear, the dog’s lazy snore started up again. Dilly eased his hand out of the pack as quietly as he could so as not to wake him.

  When he went to step away and give Boz a little space as they walked along, Boz tugged at his shirttail, keeping him close. Dilly was so pleased, he ignored all the other park-goers scattered around among the trees and dropped his head to Boz’s shoulder. He took Boz’s hand and immediately Boz’s fingers twined through his.

  “I like this,” Boz whispered in his ear.

  “So do I,” Dilly whispered back.

  He spotted a stone bench tucked in among a copse of pepper trees. The sun was still high enough in the sky to heat the summer air, but under the pepper trees, the world looked muted and cool. In unspoken agreement, they headed straight for it.

  Seated now, Grace clawed her way up Dilly’s pant leg and settled on his lap—after kneading it into submission. As soon as she had quieted down, Dilly rested her bear alongside her, and she laid a protective paw across the bear’s chest. A minute later, she was asleep.

  Dilly was surprised to find his old shyness trying to creep back. It was a surprise because he and Boz had been seeing each other for two weeks now. And in that short amount of time, they had learned about as much as there was to learn about each other. In other words, there were few secrets left.

  Still, Dilly knew where the shyness came from. It came from the way he was beginning to feel about Boz Jenkins. Not just the sexual stuff either, or the camaraderie they always seemed to tap into when they were together. It was something deeper than that. It was something he didn’t quite have the courage to name just yet. And as time passed, it was taking more and more of Dilly’s energy to keep the truth at bay, even from himself.

  The fact that Boz was probably the sweetest, most romantic guy he had ever gone out with didn’t help much. In fact, it didn’t help at all.

  They sat on the stone bench, side by side, hips touching, fingers still knotted together so tightly Dilly’s hand was beginning to sweat. Boz didn’t seem to mind. Dilly tried to think of something mundane to say. He stared at a young man and woman walking by, they too snuggling close with their fingers wrapped together. The girl let her gaze slip to the two of them on the bench, and Dilly started when she gave him a little wink. Dilly blinked and smiled back.

  “I think she thought we were cute together,” Boz whispered, leaning close, his eyes following the young couple as they strolled along the winding path heading into the trees. Her head was on the young man’s shoulder now, just like Dilly’s head had been on Boz’s before. “She’s right, you know. We are cute.”

  Dilly laughed. “Yes. I have to admit we’re just darling.”

  Boz’s fingers tightened around his. Grace growled. Maybe she thought Boz was getting too close. Boz gave her a tickle on the chin to get on her good side, and a few seconds later she was snoozing again, all forgiven. In the backpack, Leon gave a sleepy yip, probably chasing rabbits in his sleep. If he even knew what a rabbit was.

  “So have I bored you yet?” Boz quietly asked, his eyes closed, enjoying a brisk breeze that chose that moment to whip beneath the pepper tree and cool them both.

  “Why? Are you planning to?” Dilly asked.

  Boz moaned. “I hope not.”

  Silence settled in again. In the midst of the silence, Boz lifted Dilly’s hand, unfurled his fingers, and pressed a kiss to Dilly’s sweaty palm. The kiss was so gentle, and so unsuspected, Dilly couldn’t find it in himself to make a joke. He simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Boz’s warm lips on his skin.

  Out of nowhere, Dilly heard himself ask, “Do you ever wonder if you’ll always be poor?”

  Boz returned Dilly’s hand to his lap and studied Dilly’s face. “What brought this on? Are you having money problems?”

  Dilly shrugged, a little more off-handedly than he intended. “No more than usual.” He poked his Gorilla-taped glasses a little higher on his nose. He used to be ashamed of wearing them, but he supposed a person could get used to anything. They didn’t seem to bother him anymore. Maybe he didn’t have any pride left. Or maybe he knew that no matter what he wore, Boz would accept him just the same.

  He turned to Boz, who was watching him closely. He tried again. “So you never worry about money, Boz?”

  Boz shrugged.
“Actually, I worry about it all the time. But you know what?”

  “What?” Dilly asked.

  “Money wouldn’t make me happy even if I had it. Happiness doesn’t come from stuff like that. Happiness comes from what you give to other people or what you open up and let inside. Happiness comes from within, Dilly. It comes from trust and friendship and being with people you enjoy being around.”

  Dilly’s words were almost soundless. “You mean like the way I trust and enjoy being around you?”

  Dilly watched in surprise as Boz’s eyes homed in on his face. “Yes, Dilly. That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “Do you feel that way about me too, Boz?”

  Boz offered up a pouty frown, half-teasing, half-not. “I think you know I do.”

  Dilly smiled then. “We do have fun, don’t we?”

  Boz flashed his teeth in a smile so beautiful it almost took Dilly’s breath away. “We do indeed.”

  “I’m going to answer your question now,” Dilly said.

  Boz squinted up his face in confusion. “What question was that?”

  “You asked if I was bored with you yet.”

  “Oh, that question. Well? What’s the answer?”

  “The answer is no. You haven’t bored me once.”

  “Can I stay with you again tonight? It’ll be late when I get home. I won’t get off work until eleven.”

  “Yes,” Dilly said, heat rising on the back of his neck. “I don’t care how late it is. You and Leon can both stay.”

  “I’ll bring you some leftovers from the restaurant. Lasagna, maybe. You like their lasagna.”

  “Lasagna sounds good.” Dilly smiled shyly.

  And once again, to his total amazement and joy, Boz’s eyes connected with Dilly’s and hovered there.

  They sat quietly after that. Around them, the shade deepened under the pepper tree as the sun dipped below the horizon. At their backs, the lights on downtown skyscrapers blazed to life, one by one by one, marking the city skyline.

  A soothing quiet settled over them. As darkness continued to fall and the air turned cool, they walked home together hand in hand. On the sidewalk in front of Boz’s cottage, they kissed quickly, and Dilly walked the rest of the way home alone, Grace leading the way on her leash.

  Strolling the sidewalk from one puddle of light to another, following the streetlamps, Dilly whistled a lazy, contented song. At the sound of a dog barking in the distance, he scooped Grace into his arms where she’d be safe.

  He marveled at how happy he felt, and tried not to wonder how long it would last.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  BOZ’S BOSS was a merry, round Italian, with a ready smile and the residue of a lifelong attraction to cannoli straining his belt, which was hanging on for dear life, stretched to the last notch. The boss’s name was Lorenzo Leoni and he wore a billowy white chef’s hat like Chef Boyardee because he thought it made his ass look smaller. It didn’t.

  Lorenzo and his wife, Carlotta, ran San Diego’s most popular Italian restaurant. The restaurant was called, naturally enough, Leoni’s. Situated in an old brick warehouse in what used to be the downtown tuna-canning district, Leoni’s could seat as many as 300 guests at a pop, and frequently did. Local celebrities could be spotted there upon occasion, and Boz had once waited on the governor of California and his wife, which showed how much faith Lorenzo had in Boz’s commitment to duty.

  Boz was one of a stable of waitstaff, busboys, greeters, and sommeliers that kept the machinery of Leoni’s humming. Another coterie of cooks and chefs, chefs’ assistants, and dishwashers bustled around the kitchen in back, churning out an endless array of Italian masterpieces for the clamoring public.

  Boz liked his job. He didn’t love it, but he liked it. It was hard work, but since Leoni’s was popular with the young business crowd that plied their trade in the financial circles downtown, the tips were fairly good. Papa Lorenzo was generous with his employees at Christmas, sympathetic when they were sick, and willing to dole out free take-home at the drop of a hat if he thought his employees were looking pinched and in need of a hearty meal.

  Tonight Boz was off, but still here he sat in the best booth in the house, with Dilly on one side, and Dilly’s boss, Puffer, perched like a giraffe on the opposite side of the table. Beside Puffer sat one of Puffer’s girlfriends. Estelle was an emaciated chain-smoking woman who looked remarkably like a Gorgon. But since there were no snakes writhing around in her overbleached explosion of hair, Boz was willing to be gracious. Between the two of them, Boz decided, they had just about cornered the market on wrinkles and were now shooting for a monopoly on liver spots. Lives well lived indeed.

  Still, they were strangely sweet together. Estelle was forever fawning over Puffer. Puffer, in turn, was rather oblivious to the whole thing, offering his favors rather like King George deigning to let the scullery maid stick her head in his lap. After all, if a maid isn’t polishing one thing, she might as well polish another. It was clearly that sort of relationship.

  Around the table, two servers, a sommelier, one greeter, and a nervous, apologetic busboy who was suffering the terrors of his first day at work, were wiping utensils, schmoozing, and teasing Boz, since he was after all one of their own and they found it rather amusing to be waiting on him. Except for the busboy, who was simply trying not to tip over any wineglasses or slop marinara sauce in anybody’s lap. Off in the distance, Lorenzo Leoni and his lovely wife, Carlotta, were standing arm in arm, watching and whispering to each other. Even Boz knew they were talking about Dilly, because Boz had told them who his guest would be. And since no one is more romantic than an Italian, they were thrilled to see their Bozzy look so happy.

  Dilly seemed oblivious to the scrutiny, and knowing how shy he was, Boz was grateful for that.

  Boz, of course, was suffering his own scrutiny through the eyes of Puffer Moran and the Gorgon, Estelle. But he wasn’t nearly as shy as Dilly, so he endured.

  Dilly and Boz both stifled a laugh when the Gorgon stuck her hand into Puffer’s lap. Puffer jumped two feet straight up into the air, banging his knees on the bottom of the table and almost blinding himself with a breadstick. Clearly, it was going to be one of those nights.

  Dilly leaned in close to Boz. “Thanks for inviting Puffer.” Looking doubtful, he added, “And Estelle.” Lowering his voice even more, he whispered, “What do you suppose Puffer sees in her?”

  Boz took another gander at Estelle’s coif. Was it his imagination, or was it actually undulating atop her head like some sort of malevolent seaweed? He half expected to see a moray eel poke its head out and bite Puffer on the ear.

  “Estelle was Puffer’s idea,” Boz whispered back, just loud enough to be heard over Estelle cackling at one of Puffer’s ribald jokes. “But I rather like her. I’ll never think badly of my own hair again.”

  Dilly poked his glasses a little higher on his nose and went back to studying the menu.

  Boz rested his chin on Dilly’s shoulder and read the menu alongside him, even though he had the whole thing memorized verbatim.

  “Order anything you want,” Boz urged. “And maybe another glass of wine.” He waved a hand to the retreating waiter, who had only just now escaped the Gorgon’s clutches. Boz waved a fingertip around the table, indicating another round of drinks were needed.

  Estelle immediately hiccupped and drained her glass. Puffer did likewise and settled his elbows on the table to study Boz and Dilly in front of him.

  “You boys look happy together,” he said. His eyeballs were twirling. God knows how many joints he had smoked before he arrived.

  “Young romance,” Estelle cooed, and whatever she was doing with her one concealed hand, it made Puffer jump straight up into the air again. This time his breadstick actually flew across the room. An alert busboy caught it in midair and casually stuffed it in his pocket as if nothing had happened.

  “We’re just friends, but thanks,” Dilly answered. Oddly, Boz’s heart sank like a rock heari
ng the words. But a second later, when Dilly’s fingers squeezed his knee under the table, Boz’s heart gave a thump and jolted back to life.

  “Yep,” Boz agreed, trying to look blasé even as his ears heated. “Friendly old friends. That’s us.”

  Puffer and Estelle swiveled their heads around to look at each other, appearing totally unconvinced. Puffer winked, Estelle giggled, and the next thing Boz knew they were laughing like hyenas.

  It took Estelle a minute to get hold of herself. When she did, she reached a hand across the table and patted Boz on the arm, slopping his wine into the antipasto. “Friends are important,” she managed to sputter, before she and Puffer collapsed into laughter again.

  Dilly and Boz glanced at each other, not quite sure what the joke was. So they smiled in a condescending sort of way and went back to their own hushed conversation.

  Surreptitiously, Boz slid his wineglass sideways and clinked it against Dilly’s. “We’ve been seeing each other for a month. Happy anniversary.”

  Dilly blinked in surprise, and started counting on his fingers. Apparently he reached the same conclusion Boz had. With a startled look on his face, he lifted his glass, and said, “My God, you’re right. Where has the time gone?”

  Boz grinned. “Best month of my life.”

  Shyly, Dilly tucked his chin in, and said, “Me too. Thank you, Boz.”

  “For what?”

  “For being there. For including me in your life.”

  Boz crept up on the words he wanted to say, but only roundabout. He knew he didn’t have the courage yet to speak them outright. And certainly not here with Puffer and the Gorgon looking on.

  “And during those four weeks, we slept almost every night together.” Boz whispered the words, hoping the restaurant noise would keep them from traveling across the table.

  A smile played at Dilly’s mouth. “Did you say slept?”