by Pat Henshaw
Until now. Leo was slimy and made me uneasy, but he didn’t strike me as a pimp. Didn’t they wear leather jackets and look more like weasels or rats, all skinny and skanky? Leo looked like a poseur to me, somebody who did things big and bold so people would think he was more than he was. But then, what did I know?
“Huh” is all I said as I kissed him again. “A pimp, huh?”
John turned to me. “You don’t care?” Wonder filled his question.
“Shit, yeah, I care. I care for your sake.” My answer was quick and sure. “You want to tell me the rest of it? Did you work for him? How’d you get away from him? Why was he here? Does he want you back?”
He cringed from my questions, but I held him and gave him another kiss. So much for staying quiet and letting him tell me if he wanted to.
“He’s a specialty pimp.” His sighs just kept on coming. “He has really rich and really picky clients. They don’t want pretty young boys. They want exotic, uh, guys. And they pay him top dollar to recruit us.”
Exotic? This time I kept my mouth shut, but it was like he could hear my question and tried to shy away from me.
“You know those eating clubs where they serve endangered species or weird foods? Well, Leo wanted me because a few of his clients want munchkins, short guys, dwarves. Officially I’m too tall to be classified as a short person, but only by an inch or so. And I’m not a dwarf. Just shorter than average. But they didn’t care about technicalities. To them, I was short enough.”
He started to edge away again. I pulled him back against me and stroked his soft mink-like hair. This was much worse than facing the kids’ chant in the greenhouse.
“I was broke and out on the street in San Francisco.” His voice cracked. He was pleading with me to understand. I gave him a hug and kept stroking his hair and chest. I didn’t understand, but I sympathized. “I worked for him for two years. Christmas was pretty bad, getting fucked by someone in a Santa suit, whose laugh was a ho-ho-ho as he’d come. Nothing I ever did with those fuckers felt good. My life really was hell. I hated myself. After two years of eating light and saving my ‘share’ of what Leo gave me from the deals, I thought I had enough money to escape.”
I caught one of his hands and held it. This was so fucked up. I couldn’t imagine what I would’ve done. The idea of him being pimped out made my skin crawl. How had he stood it?
“I lived with Ricky, the other munchkin, elf, short guy, and an albino named Gordon in an apartment near the Marina District. The clients we serviced….” He winced, as did I. “The clients lived in Seacliff and the Presidio, so we didn’t have to travel far. It was a shitty life, but we got shelter and a food and clothing allowance. I saved as much food money as I could.”
He gave a gurgly laugh.
“I had a custom-made tux, that damned Christmas elf suit, and clothes for all the holidays.” He was crying now, so I pulled him as close as I could and sheltered him next to my chest. “I went to exclusive parties, galas, and charity events. The old guys I was with called me their companion. One even introduced me as Mini-me. One old bearded guy told everyone I was his special elf during the holiday season.”
I’d started rubbing his back and muttering “Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay now.”
“How can you touch me?” he moaned. “I’m a sexual leper.”
I just kept up my litany of comfort. I was repulsed by the story, but not by him. He’d done what he had to in order to survive.
“How’d you become a chef?”
He sniveled. “Gotta get a tissue,” he murmured.
I pulled off my T-shirt. “Nah. Use this.”
He gave a laugh. “Gross.” But he wiped his nose carefully on the hem of my shirt.
I reached down and took a wad of shirt. I held it to his nose. “Blow.”
“Eww. Gross,” he repeated. But he blew.
I wiped his nose and put my shirt down on the floor next to us.
“You wanna tell me the rest? Or forget it?” I hugged him again. “Whatever’s good for you.”
He took a breath as if he were girding himself to finish a race.
“I, uh, got on a bus one day and got off in the Italian district. Not too far away from where I was living, actually. I just wanted some time to think. I started walking, trying to figure out how to make the cut from Leo. I’d stashed away part of my money in a bank account Leo didn’t know about and didn’t monitor. I figured I could live for a couple of months without a job. I just didn’t know what I could do, what kind of job to look for.
“I didn’t have a high school diploma, no skills I could call on.” He pulled back and looked me in the eye. He was making moves to slip away, but I wouldn’t let him go. He glanced toward the tree and the windows. “You don’t have to hold me. I’m okay now.”
“I’m not,” I answered with a squeeze. “Who said you’re the only one who needs to be held?”
He gave me a strange, almost quizzical glance like it was a new concept that anyone could need him to hold them. Then he lowered his eyes, and tears bubbled between his lids.
“You don’t have to be nice to me. I know what I’ve been.”
“Yes, I have to be nice to you. And let’s emphasize the ‘been.’” His gaze flew to mine as tears fell down his cheeks. “I like you. I think we’re friends. I’m hoping maybe we might even be more. I can’t not be nice to you.”
He groped around next to me, picked up my T-shirt, blew his nose, and mopped up again. I started laughing that my limited wardrobe was doing dual duty. He glanced at me a couple of times as he carefully replaced the shirt on the floor.
We hugged. He sighed. Then I watched the Christmas tree lights a little while as he seemed to settle next to me. He started tracing my tattoo from my belly button up my side as he spoke.
“I was walking past this tiny café where a guy with a food-stained apron was sweeping the sidewalk. I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do when I was really free. What could I do other than fuck or be some rich man’s toy? This guy, he yelled at me as I walked past and asked if I needed a job.” John gave a watery, huffy kind of laugh. “I must have looked as desperate as I felt. Anyway, he said he needed an entry-level sous-chef and general worker. And I needed a job. Only took me a day or two to get the hang of food prep before I knew I loved it. I wanted to be a chef.
“He gave me a room over the restaurant that was part storage space and part efficiency apartment. I was there half a year, then moved to a bigger kitchen, which his uncle owned. Both of them served classical Italian food. I moved on to a third place in a little over a couple of years. Then I heard Adam was looking for a sous, but nobody thought he’d keep whoever he hired because word on the street was he’d rehire his ex. I thought even if he hired me for a couple of months, I’d learn a lot from him before he let me go. What’d I have to lose? So I went around to his kitchen, and we’ve been together ever since. How Leo never found me before this is beyond me.”
“I would have found you,” I whispered and gave him another hug.
“Yeah. Me too.”
We lay in silence and watched the lights twinkle on the tree. Nothing bad could happen to us as long as we were protected by a fir tree, right?
He gave a big sigh, then snuggled closer.
“There’s a happy ending, though.”
“Yeah?” I asked, rolling over to my side and throwing one leg over his. “How so?”
“I was here a couple of weeks, living in the Star’s storage room and looking for a place to stay when this older woman walked up to me and said, ‘You must be John. You look just like my little brother.’ Turns out my aunt, who owned this house, is my mother’s sister. My aunt’s the black sheep of the family. Or maybe the black ewe?”
We giggled over that and tickled one another for a few minutes until he pushed me back.
“Anyway, I found a relative who loves me and accepts me. I lived downstairs in her guest room until she decided to move into the senior residence with her g
irlfriend.” He laughed abruptly. “Her lady friend? I don’t know what to call her. My aunt sold me the house for practically nothing and told me to get a handsome lodger who would knock me off my feet, just like in the romances she reads.”
“And you rented to me,” I said, knowing full well that handsome and I had never crossed paths, but glad that John and I had.
“I found my handsome prince.” He went up on one elbow, and his face loomed over mine. “But is he a frog or a prince, I wonder. I will just have to kiss him enough to find out.”
Our lips almost met when Ricky started shouting from downstairs. It sounded like someone was trying to kill him.
John and I jumped up, quickly putting on our shoes.
“Fuck. I gotta go. Leo dumped Ricky with me, and Ricky’s started to have nightmares.”
I grabbed a sweater from my bedroom and followed him.
He ran to my kitchen and into the pantry, to the locked door I thought led to the water heater and other utilities. He took out a set of keys and opened the door. Inside the room were not only the utilities to the right, but also on the left a stairway leading down to the first floor, into his kitchen.
8
I FOLLOWED him down the stairs, marveling that I hadn’t even guessed there was a way to get between our floors without going outside. Why’d he kept this a secret? Was he sneaking into my place while I wasn’t home? I doubted it. What did it matter anyway? What did I have to hide? Did he come up here to look at the tree? The thought made me almost smile.
Ricky had stopped shouting now, but I could hear his sobs. Then he started yelling again. “Help me! Somebody help me!” His voice was softer now, as if it were giving out.
I stood in the doorway of his bedroom and watched as John held him close even though Ricky seemed to be fighting him.
“Shhh. Shhh.” John crooned as he patted Ricky. “It’s okay. Johnny’s got you.”
Ricky was covered in sweat and still didn’t seem to be fully with it. I opened the window a little bit more and then slipped away to John’s bathroom to wet down a washcloth to cool off Ricky’s forehead. When I got back to the room, I handed it to John, who gave me a startled glance and then a nod and a slight smile. He seemed to be acknowledging that we were working together.
As Ricky settled into an uneasy pattern of whimpers and groans, I began to relax and was about to move nearer when someone pounded on the front door.
“If it’s Leo…,” John began. He stopped to tighten his hold on Ricky, who had started fighting him again. As Ricky began sobbing and shouting, the pounding got louder. John turned to me. “Get rid of him. I can’t deal with him now.”
Sheriff Lloyd Campbell stood in the doorway, a grim look on his face. “What’s going on here? I was walking in the park next door and heard the shouting.”
“What? Nothing. We’re fine.” Ricky’s sobs had followed me from the bedroom. “It’s okay. We have it under control.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” The sheriff pushed past me and strode toward where we could hear John trying to calm Ricky.
I followed Lloyd and nearly bumped into him as he stopped in the bedroom doorway. John looked up, surprise written on his face when his eyes stopped at Lloyd.
“This isn’t a good time, Sheriff.”
Ricky started screaming and fighting John again. “Don’t. Don’t let him touch me. Leave me alone. Help me. Help me!”
The agony in his voice filled the room. The sheriff took off his jacket and tossed it on the chair near the bed. Then he walked slowly up to Ricky. He carefully put his hand down on Ricky’s shoulder.
John stared at me, surprise and a question in his eyes. I had no clue what the sheriff was doing.
“John, why don’t you leave us alone for a minute? I’d like to talk to…?” His words ended in a question.
“His name’s Ricky.” John looked down at his friend. The blond heaved a sigh. His thin shoulders shook as he sobbed. “We have nothing to say, Sheriff.”
At the word “sheriff,” Ricky lurched up, and his eyes searched wildly around until they found the sheriff.
“Yes! Yes, I have something to say to the sheriff.” He pushed John away. “The sheriff is a good guy. He can help me.” He grasped the lawman around the waist and hung on. The sheriff waved us away.
John and I left the room slowly and then stood staring at each other.
“Close the door,” the sheriff commanded.
We did and moved away from it.
“I don’t like this. What if Ricky tells him about Leo and San Francisco?”
I hugged him to me. “What if he does?”
“Leo will be so mad. Leo angry gets people disappeared.”
“Killed?” I was horrified. Sure, Leo was scary looking, but did he really kill people? I had to believe John might be right because in movies pimps killed all the time. Well, shit. Now I was scared. I hugged John closer to me and rubbed his back, probably more for me than for him.
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “All I know is guys who said they were going to the cops were never heard from again. I don’t know what he’s done. Or what he will do.”
When we heard Ricky crying again, I took John’s hand and walked him farther away to his living room couch. We could still hear Lloyd’s low soft tones and Ricky’s wails and high-pitched jabbering, but none of it was clear enough to understand.
“The sheriff will know what to do.” I sounded more confident than I was.
I searched to change the subject. No point in scaring us more when we had no clue where everything was going. His turret room caught my eye.
“Are we getting you a tree?”
“No.” He shook his head hard enough that we bounced a little on the couch. “I don’t celebrate the holidays. I have too many horrible memories of being somebody’s elf fantasy. Awful. Just awful.” He shivered.
I put my arm back around him and squeezed him to me.
“Then maybe we need to make you some new holiday memories.” I glanced at the bare living room and equally bare turret. “We’ll start with a wreath.”
“Anything but a tree.”
“Okay. My mother’s coming to celebrate with me and will expect you and Ricky at Christmas dinner.” I laughed as he turned to me, his eyes wide. “She’s already apologized about even thinking about cooking for a chef.”
He still looked surprised, but the stubborn set of his chin had eased. At the best of times, he looked belligerent, but since we’d come downstairs to comfort Ricky, he’d looked like a street fighter. Now, after I’d warned him about my mother, he’d softened around the edges and his eyes glowed.
“She wants me and Ricky to eat Christmas dinner with you?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I told her neither of you had family in the area and weren’t going to have anyone to eat with.”
“But I have my aunt.”
“You sure?”
He blushed. “No. She’s going on a cruise.”
“So you’re eating with me and Mom. Beth and Kate are doing their own vegetarian thing, then they’ll be over afterward.”
Now he looked like a little boy who’d been promised a visit by Santa. “Thank you.”
I laughed. “Well, I think I’d save my thanks until after the meal. My mom doesn’t cook nearly as well as you do.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He sighed and leaned toward me.
I gave him a kiss, which rapidly turned from sweet to rowdy. We broke apart when the sheriff opened the bedroom door, his back to us. After a moment, he turned.
“Okay, I think he’ll be fine for the night. He said he’d be over at the office in the morning to file a complaint.” Lloyd glared at John. “He said you might be opposed. See that he’s there.”
We got up from the couch and walked him to the door. The sheriff’s parting words were “Make sure he comes to see me tomorrow.”
When he left, John gave me a little kiss and told me he was stayi
ng with Ricky overnight in case Ricky had nightmares again. I understood, kissed him, and went back to my place using the stairs joining our kitchens.
9
I CALLED Beth in the morning and told her Ricky’d be in later and I’d also be a little late because I was meeting with David about the Silver Star decorations. I wanted to be on hand in case John had any trouble with Ricky.
I understood why John was upset about Ricky bringing charges against Leo, and I too worried about what Leo would do in retaliation. But somebody had to stop Leo from preying on homeless guys. Why not our sheriff? Though I wasn’t sure exactly what he could do. No crime had been committed in Stone Acres as far as I knew.
More snow had fallen during the night, making the streets of Old Town shimmer in the morning sun. People talk about winter wonderlands, but here in Stone Acres the town actually looks like one. How could something as evil as Leo’s exploitation of helpless guys in San Francisco happen when the world seemed overflowing with goodness and light?
My mother called as I was getting my notes together to give to David.
“Honey, did you invite John and Ricky to Christmas dinner?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I’m knitting them both scarves and hats. Do you think that will be enough? I could whip up a couple of easy quilts too.”
“The hats and scarves are enough. They don’t expect presents.”
“Nobody expects presents, love, except children,” she laughed.
“True that.” I heard rustling behind me and saw John with Ricky, both of them looking surprised. “Okay. Mom? I gotta go. Love you.”
I hung up and slipped the phone into my pocket as John walked toward me.
“That was your mom?” His eyes looked wary, as if he wondered what was going on.
“Yeah. She wanted to make sure you were coming for Christmas dinner. Or maybe I should say Christmas lunch since we eat a little after noon. Like I said, don’t expect a gourmet meal. It’ll be a lot more down-home. Turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, cranberry compote. Christmas cake for dessert. Either her green beans or corn casserole. Rolls from the store.” I shrugged.