Chapter 5

Any hopes I had entertained about floating through the week like a lovestruck teenager were dashed first thing Monday morning. Two customers were already waiting for me to unlock the shop, and as soon as I turned the key in the lock, the damn telephone started ringing.

And that pretty much set the pace for the entire day. As soon as one customer left, another would walk in. And the telephone was busier than usual too. There were calls for pricing, calls from my printer, wrong numbers, calls to make appointments, calls to see if orders were ready for pickup. By lunchtime I had three big orders and a handful of smaller ones. It was as if everyone in town had discovered my Yellow Pages ad all at the same time. If the rest of the week kept up like this, I could afford to take Randy to dinner at Aldo's rather than White Castle.

But Randy had said he'd be back on Friday or Saturday. So I called and made reservations for both nights at 9:00 PM. What the hell, I figured, if he doesn't show, there's nothing wrong with eating out two nights in a row.

By Wednesday, I still hadn't heard from him, so I sent him a "tickler" email to let him know that I was looking forward to seeing him again and that I was making dinner reservations. And of course I asked when he'd be arriving in town. Very straightforward, nothing mushy and certainly nothing referring to our past weekend. After all, someone might be looking over his shoulder when he opens his email. If Randy didn't answer this email, I'd pretty much know that last weekend was just another one-night stand and I was just another notch on the butt of his sexual prowess six-shooter. It's not that that hasn't happened before. I just don't like the feeling.

And the business kept rolling in. Both my part-timer Kevin Shriver and I worked well past closing on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Thursday night was particularly rough because Sharon Westfall, Hank Mitchum's webmaster--or is that "webmistress"?--wanted some changes made to make online ordering easier. I did the layout; Kevin did the coding. On the fourth try, she was happy with what she saw on our dummy web site. We both let out big sighs of relief and said at the same time, "Thank God!"

"I could be wrong," said Kevin, "but I think she's even pickier than you, Bob."

"Well, not by much, but you may be right. Jeez, it's almost 8:00 o'clock. Let's shut 'er down and go get something to eat." Until we actually stopped working, I hadn't realized just how hungry I was. "And if I'm hungry, then you're probably in the mood for half a cow by this time. Ever been to Brick's? 'Cuz that's where we're headed." Before Kevin shut down the main computer, I checked my email. Nothing from Randy.

"What are you mumbling about, Bob?"

"Oh, just checking my mail. I'm expecting to hear from a friend." I put the computer to sleep, turned out the lights and headed for Brick's with Kevin in tow.

Brick's is a casual family restaurant with great sandwiches, decent steaks and chicken dishes and a good selection of beers. I always thought of it as an independent Applebee's clone. When I told the hostess, "Smoking section please," Kevin rolled his eyes but said nothing. The hostess must have thought that we were a couple because she sat us at the last table with three empty booths between us and the next group. She gave us our menus and glided away from the table to retrieve our beer orders.

I already knew what I would order, chicken cordon bleu. Anything with chicken, ham and cheese--the three basic food groups--is aces in my book. It will probably kill me, but at least I'll go out well fed.

"What's good here? What are you gonna have, Bob?" asked Kevin trying to find out what his spending limit is.

"Everything is good. Pick out whatever you like. I'm partial to..." An overly effervescent voice interrupted me.

"Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Barry and I'll be your wai...Kevin?!? Baby! How are you? Where have you been?"

Baby? This could be interesting. I tried to keep my eyebrows from disappearing into my receding hairline even though I could use the extra coverage. There's got to be a story here.

"So what's the occasion, Kev? You hardly ever go out any more. Hot date tonight?" His voice trailed off when he realized who was sitting on my side of the table. His smile was starting to fade and his effervescence had gone flat.

Kevin was blushing, obviously embarrassed, and looked like he wanted to crawl under the menu. He nodded toward me and said, "This is my boss, Mr. Schneider, Barry."

"Your boss, eh?"

I shook hands with the waiter and told him, "Kevin is our Employee of the Month, so he gets the full treatment tonight." I gave him my proudest smile and then turned to Kevin who looked somewhat taken aback. After the waiter had left to refill Kevin's beer, Kevin watched him to make sure he was out of earshot. "Employee of the Month?  Bob, I'm your only employee."

"And I want you to know, Kevin, that the vote was unanimous. It was between you and the Xerox copier, and since you don't eat as much as it does, you won."

Kevin's smile was back, and that's always nice to see. He's got absolutely perfect teeth. "I appreciate that, but why did you say it to him?" He jerked his thumb in Barry's general direction.

"I just thought you should have something to hold over his head for some reason. You know, something to kind of flaunt. It looked and sounded like you wanted to hold a baseball bat over his head. And what's with the 'Mr. Schneider' stuff? You've always introduced me to your friends as 'Bob'."

His voice took on a cynical tone. "You have to know Barry. After about five minutes he'd be calling you 'Bobby baby' and that's not right. He's too much of a flamer."

Before I could comment on that, Kevin leaned across the table like he was about to share nuclear secrets with me. "You can't tell anybody about this. If word gets back to me, I'll know where they found out and then I'll have to kill you." I'm glad he was smiling when he said that. I tried to think quickly of who we knew in common that I could share confidential information with, and I came up with a short list. Nobody.

"Okay, I promise not to tell a soul," I said, eager to find out what he had to say.

"Here's your beer, Kevin. You guys ready to order?" How do waiters do that? When you want one, they can't see you. And when you want some time alone, they're all over you and you never hear them coming. I ordered my chicken cordon bleu and so did Kevin but with extra fries.

When Barry had gone, Kevin leaned in again and said in a loud whisper, "Barry is hot for my body for some stupid reason."

Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to hear that. It's a good thing there wasn't much left in my beer bottle or it would have come out my nose. I only choked a little and started a spluttering coughing jag that caught the attention of a passing busboy. I held up the bottle and said in my best Mickey Mouse voice, "Another one please."

Once I had regained control, I turned back to face Kevin and asked, "Why does that bother you? Under all those baggy clothes you wear, you've got a nice body. I'd be hot for it too if I were twenty or, even better, thirty years younger. Take it as a compliment that he has good taste."

Even in the dim light of the corner, I could tell that he was blushing, but his gaze never left my eyes. "He's not my type. If I was gonna do that, it sure as hell wouldn't be with him."

"Oh? Who would you do it with?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew it was a mistake. I usually don't pry into other people's lives unless I've known them for a while. And they don't work for me.

"Well, uhh, I'm not sure. I mean that...I mean what I meant to say..." He let out a deep frustrated sigh. "Look, can we drop this? I'm not ready for this yet."

"Sure we can drop it. I apologize for asking in the first place." I put my hand on his to reassure him. From the look he gave me, you'd think I'd just groped him in church. I left my hand there and wouldn't let go. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I don't want you to be upset with me. We work well as a team, and I don't want to jeopardize that. Forget that I asked and forgive me for prying where I shouldn't."

He surprised me by putting his other hand on top of mine. Was he patting it or caressing it? I'd put my money on caressing. "Thanks, Bob. Maybe I'll tell you later." Barry chose that moment to show up with our food. Kevin jerked his hands away from mine and put them demurely in his lap. I wanted to ask if he was rearranging something, but of course I'm way too tactful to do that.

"The plates are hot, gentlemen, so please be careful. Another beer, Kevin?" Kevin nodded. Will that be three or four for him? I was losing track, but I knew that he was ahead of me.

"I'd forgotten that the first word you fratboy types learn is 'chug', I teased.

"No, it's not. 'Chug' is the first lesson we learn. 'Beer' will always be the first word." He smiled and held up his bottle to clink against mine in a sort of toast. Exactly what we were toasting I wasn't sure, but it seemed like the thing to do. He dove back into his food.

Watching him eat was almost a spiritual experience. He didn't attack the food like a football player in training camp, but he was relentless. Most likely, only a fire on the table would have slowed him down. But every once in a while, he'd close his eyes like he was really getting into it and savoring the morsel. His taste buds were orgasming, that's for sure. The small neon sign behind him painted his brown hair so it looked almost auburn.

At one point just when he had a small handful of fries aimed at his mouth, he looked at me and paused. "What?" The fries disappeared.

"I was just wondering if you were actually enjoying the food or simply inhaling it."

"Id's reedy, reedy goo'." He sounded like any twelve-year-old who's forgotten to swallow. He pulled out his napkin and held it in front of his mouth while he swallowed and took another long swig of his drink. "I'm sorry," he smiled.  "I kind of got carried away there. It's wonderful, really. And before I forget, thank you for bringing me here."

He had about two bites left on his plate and I had half of mine still to go. I was probably the same way at his age. "How come Barry was so surprised to see you? He made it sound like you only go out a couple of times a year. Are you that much of a hermit?"

"My first two years at school, I did the fratboy thing. Lived in the house, went to all the parties, tried to get laid. Without much success." He swirled his beer bottle to see how much was left. "When I realized that my grades were way off track, I moved back in with the 'rents and cut way back on the party circuit."

"That must have been difficult, moving back home after two years of unbridled hedonism."

"You don't know the half of it. It was a major, major readjustment. It took me quite a while to get myself to stop looking forward to each weekend's party time. It's not like I was getting laid like clockwork. But I did miss the socializing for a while. My attitude pretty much went in the crapper. I was rude to my folks for no good reason. At least none that I could see right away. We've had our share of shouting matches since I moved back in." He was pushing the few vegetables left on his plate from one side to another and then like a cat he scooped them up and they disappeared.

"Dad hasn't really forgotten about those either. He doesn't forgive too easily. Dad still mostly just yells at me if he says anything. Mom is always telling me to put some clothes on. Hell, sometimes I like to just be nak..." He must have realized how loud he was getting; he cut himself off nicely. He leaned in again and said softly, "I just don't think I should have to dress up if I don't feel like it. It's not like they haven't seen me naked before."

"True, but when they look 'down there', it hits home that you're not their 'little' boy any more. That's a tough pill for any parent to swallow. It reinforces what they already know way down deep inside. You'll be leaving the nest shortly for good. Do yourself a big favor and try to make the exit as graceful as possible."

"Yeah, well, they probably won't want me back any time soon any way."

Barry reappeared as I finished my meal. We both declined dessert, but I wasn't finished. "I'll have a B&B up," I said.

"What's that?" asked Kevin.

"Make that two," I signaled the waiter. "And bring a fresh glass of water too please."

We settled back in our seats for the shank of the evening. It was time to pick up on certain parts of our earlier conversation. "So have you given up dating entirely since you've moved back home? I can't imagine a good-looking guy like you spending every weekend reading Immanuel Kant."

"No, thank God, I'm finished with the Philosophy requirement. I was able to get through that with a simple logic course. Lately, it's usually some book on computer language or database construction or something like that. If I'm caught up, I'll come back to campus for a party, but my heart hasn't really been in it lately."

"Kinda difficult to bring a date home, eh?  'Mom, Dad, this is Phyllis. We'll be screwing like rabbits in my room tonight.'  I imagine that would put your parents over the edge."

Kevin held up his bottle to show a passing waiter that he needed a refill. He snorted at my little scenario. "Yeah, my Mom would faint dead away and Dad would go apoplectic. They're not the most open-minded people in the world."

"So have you been getting any at all," I asked as I finished off my food. "It's not normal for a guy your age to go without, you know."

He was peeling the label from the beer bottle with his thumbnail, his face a mix of disappointment and resignation. He spoke very softly. "Yeah, I know. Even when I meet someone I might have a chance with, there's no place for me to 'do it'. The guest rooms at the frat house are usually occupied on the weekends and my 'brothers' don't seem inclined to let me use their room. I wish I could afford my own place."

"I'm kinda sorry I turned the other apartment above the shop into a photo studio. I would have let you use that."

"Bob, you did that--what?--ten years ago? I'm sure you couldn't know back then that this was going to happen. Hell, I was only ten years old then." He eyed his now naked bottle wistfully. "And a lot happier."

Barry reappeared with our B&B's and water. "Let me know when you're ready for your check, guys." He eyed Kevin with a predator's eyes. "Enjoy your drink."

I hate to see someone getting depressed like Kevin was doing. Time for a change of pace. "A toast!" I intoned. We tapped our snifters together and a smile returned to his face. "To my employee of the month! And, Kevin..." He took the snifter away from his lips. "Don't dwell on it too much. The person you're looking for will most likely pop up when you're not looking for them. When you start pressing to get laid, you begin to look desperate and people can pick up on that. Trust me on this one. Even Miss Clare is probably getting some, so you definitely will."

He laughed long and hard at that picture. Miss Clare is a woman in at least her sixties who dresses like a street person. She comes into the store to use our self-service copier and then tries to screw us on the number of copies she's made. She's a trip.

"Oh God, that would just kill me," he laughed, "to know that she's getting some and I'm not. Did you see the look on Mrs. Bender's face today when Clare was there? It was like she thought a gigantic germ was standing next to her at the counter. It was priceless." He took another sip of his B&B. Thank God he wasn't chugging it! "Oh, this stuff is good. Makes you warm and tingly all over."

"Yes, it does. Look, I hate to bring up work at this stage of the game, but did you finish Mrs. Bender's order?"

"Nope, I thought you were taking care of it. You didn't do it either?"

"No, I thought you were doing it. Not to worry. I can take care of it when we go back to the shop. Let's talk about something else," I said. "What are you going to do with the rest of your life, kiddo?"

Kevin snorted into his snifter. "Jesus, you sound just like my Dad."

"Sorry about that. When you hit a certain age, every question either sounds parental or like a job interview. So what's your grand plan?"

"I don't know. I don't think I even have a 'grand plan'. Every time I think about what I'm going to do after next year, things get real hazy. I know what I'd like to do, but there's so much competition in the computer field that I probably won't get a chance to do it. I really screwed that up when my grades took a nosedive. I'll be lucky just to get a fuc.." He looked around to see if anyone had overheard his little slip. "To get a damn clerical job somewhere.

"When I think about what I'll be doing, I still see myself in the shop working with you. I mean I really enjoy what we're doing there, y'know? It's what I like to do, working on the website databases, and the work is different each day. I really do enjoy it. And I really enjoy working with you, Bob. When I hear the guys talking about what jerkoffs there bosses are, I realize how lucky I am."

It was my turn to blush. Not a lot, but enough to let him know I appreciated the compliment. "From what I hear, most guys' bosses just keep piling on more work when they get busy. When you give me something to do, you seem to end up doing more work than I do."

"That's because I want to keep the world away from you so you can concentrate on what you're doing. I don't understand that database stuff at all, and I know you'll do it right if you're not interrupted. That's why we make such a good team. I guess I should make you Employee of the Year," I smiled.

"Does that mean I won't get another meal out of you this year?" he teased. "You could save yourself some money if we ate at your place next time." He was thinking about a next time? I could live with that. After all, I do enjoy his company.

I just had to tease him back. "You know, Kevin, I have a very strict policy on employees dating. It's bad for morale. I'd either have to fire you or marry you to do that." Jesus, what did I just say? Was I making a play for him? Naaah. He knows I'm just teasing.

He apparently didn't know it. "Well, we can talk about that later." Before I could ask what he meant by that, he diverted me with a question. "Could I have another one of these?"

"Sure. I could use another one too. Just flag down our waiter. Stand up and flash your washboard abs; that ought to bring him running."

I don't think I had ever really noticed how good-looking Kevin is when he laughs. I hate to use the word "pretty" for guys, but, well, he is. "And just how do you know what my abs look like, may I ask?" He was smiling and enjoying this way too much.

"Oh, I've seen you strip off your t-shirt a couple of times before you get in your car. That's how I knew you had a nice body. Does the term 'tongue bath' mean anything to you?" I think the alcohol was getting to me.

"Only in my dreams," he answered almost noncommittally, but his dark brown eyes said, "Yes!"

I could play along with this. "Me neither," I lied. His smile faded fast like he had missed an opportunity. Or maybe I had.

He stayed silent for the longest time, turning his now full brandy snifter in his hand as if he were looking for the directions on how to use it. Or for what he wanted to say next. The bartender had been more generous with his shots on the refills. Kevin killed off half the glass in one throw, pursed his lips and looked appreciatively at the glass.

"Penny for your thoughts," I offered.

"What? Oh." I think the drink was finally getting to him. When he leaned over the table, I did too. His smile was back and he was screwing up his courage to make sure I got my money's worth with his answer. "Bob..." Our heads were only a foot apart and I could tell easily that his eyes were having trouble focusing on mine. "...You're alright. I...I..."

"If you say 'I love you, man' like in the beer commercial, I'm going to lose all respect for you." I hoped he could tell I was kidding.

"But I do, man. I really do. You're okay. And you know what?"

"What?" Where on earth was he going to go next with this line of thinking?

"I gotta..." He suppressed a belch. "...pee." When he stood, he kept one hand in contact with the tabletop as he scoped out his path back to the men's room. As he walked there, I watched him reach out to steady himself against the wall with his hand. Good fratboy training, I thought. He doesn't look half as bad as he really is.

While he was gone, I settled the bill with Barry who surprised me when he asked me, "You'll take care of him tonight, won't you? He looks a little snockered."

"I'm way ahead of you, Barry. I'll make sure he's safe for the evening. And thanks for asking. He'd appreciate your concern." Okay, so that part was a lie. But the kid meant well, and I at least appreciated his concern.

When Kevin returned, a little less unsteadily, but still wobbly, I was already standing by the table. He'd obviously splashed water on his face. The front of his hair was now spiked, exploding in all directions.  He picked up his B&B from the table and drained it.   I guided him to the door, my hand on the small of his back to steady him. Only once did he lose his concentration, but we were already at the door by then. I was able to grab him and keep him falling.

The ride home was uneventful. Not too surprising since Kevin leaned his head back on the front seat as soon as he was in the car. By the time I got in the driver's seat, he was out cold. Please God, I prayed, don't let him throw up. It's still got that new car smell and I don't want to replace that with the smell of beer puke.

His arms hung lifeless at his sides. His mouth was open and occasionally a half-snore, half-snort would escape when his body reminded itself that it needed air. I rolled down the windows. A father, seeing his son like that and conveniently forgetting that he himself had once been like this, would most likely be pissed off at his son. Uncles aren't like that. They remember getting shit-faced drunk and waking up in a strange bed wondering where they were. Uncles tend to be a bit more forgiving.

When I pulled into the side lot at the shop, there was a car parked in the lane and someone standing by my side door. He didn't move when I parked the car and turned off the lights. I adjusted the rear-view mirror to try to see who it was. He seemed to be reading a piece of paper, and when he turned to look in my direction, I recognized him. It was Alan.

I rolled up the windows, looked at Kevin who was out cold, and got out of the car. "Alan, is that you? What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Hi, Bob. I'm sorry I'm here so late. I've been waiting for a while for you to show up. I, uhh, I had just, uhh, written you a note." He crumbled the note and let it fall to the ground. "I was kinda hoping we could talk some tonight."

"I'd be happy to, Alan, if I hadn't gone out tonight and tried to keep up with a semi-professional drinker. We'll have to do it another night if you don't mind."

"Oh. Yeah. That's okay." He seemed genuinely disappointed. "Listen, I'll give you a call next time before I come over, okay?"

"Sure, not a problem, bud. Listen, could you give me a hand here? My part-timer Kevin is in the car and he's totally passed out. Could you help me get him upstairs?"

"Sure, Bob. You get the doors unlocked and I'll carry him up for you." Without another word, he headed for my car to retrieve Kevin's zonked out body. I wasn't going to question his eagerness to help. Not now anyway. As I turned to unlock the outside door, I picked up the note Alan had dropped and put it in my pocket. I hate litter.

Alan had gotten Kevin out of the car and up on his broad shoulders in a fireman's carry. It's a good thing Kevin is as short as he is. If he were Alan's size or, even worse, my size, it would have been a real labor for him. But Alan carried Kevin inside and up the long flight of stairs as easily as if he had a wet towel draped over his shoulder.

I pointed to my recliner, and Alan deposited him there with all the care of a hospital orderly handling his own grandmother. This guy is full of surprises. "Thanks, Alan." I shook his hand. "I think I can handle him from here. Hell, I may just throw the recliner back and drop a blanket over him.

"Listen, I'm expecting company tomorrow and Saturday, so why don't you give me a call, say, Sunday afternoon? I'll have a better idea of what's going on by then, and then you and I can make plans to get together and talk."

"That'll work, Bob. I'll call for sure."

"Thanks, Alan. And thanks for helping with Kevin. You probably saved me another round with that damned back brace." Just thinking of wearing that contraption again brought back a little twinge in my lower back. I really did owe Alan for this.

When he was gone, I took a long look at Kevin laid out in the recliner. Throwing a blanket over him and letting him deal with a stiff neck tomorrow morning on his own seemed too good to pass up. Then again, I wouldn't want somebody to do that to me, so I went to Plan B and opened up the sofabed. I tried to wake him to get his clothes off, but all I got were grunts and groans out of him. I did get him to move to the sofabed, all the time with his eyes closed, and I was amazed that he didn't just collapse backwards when he sat.

Instead, he sat there, his eyes still closed and his chin almost on his chest. I knelt to remove his shoes, and when they were off and stashed under the bed, I stayed kneeling in front of him with my hands on top of his knees. Memories of another unveiling came to mind on an another night long ago with another boy in a similar situation. That had been a fun night. Which had turned into a fun week as I recall.

"Kevin, lift up your arms so I can get your shirt off." He didn't respond. I unbuttoned the two buttons on his polo shirt and touched his cheek. "C'mon, Babe, lift up your arms." He leaned his head into my hands but he did raise his arms.  Removing his shirt was like unveiling a monument.  A smallish monument, but a monument nonetheless.  There was more firmness to his chest than I remembered from my stolen glances at him through the shop window. A moment after his shirt was off, he hugged himself against the coolness of the air conditioning.  His pink-brown nipples contracted smaller than dimes. "Okay, pal, now we gotta get those pants off." He didn't move. I don't remember this being so much of a chore the last time I did this.

I started to undo his belt buckle. His hands moved to my shoulders, I thought to steady himself. But he was gently kneading them. As he did, they moved closer to my throat. For an instant, I had a chill spread through my body. This was either going to get erotic, I thought, or it's going to turn into a bad Hitchcock movie. By now his thumbs were under my chin. He raised my face to his. By the look in his eye I could tell there wasn't going to be a movie tonight.

He leaned in and kissed me on the lips tentatively like I was a relative. The smile on his face told me there was going to be another kiss, and it certainly wasn't going to be brotherly. It wasn't. At first I thought his aim was off; he kissed the side of my mouth rather than straight on. He kept circling around my mouth homing in on his target. Each kiss made me want another. And another. And another.

When he finally hit home, he didn't have to force my mouth open to admit his tongue. I was open and waiting gladly for him to get inside. His tongue searched out mine and barely touched it at first. This was an experiment for him and I was willing to let him set the pace. Up to a point. I put my hand behind his head so he wouldn't end the experiment too soon. I put my other hand on the small patch of dark hair in the middle of his chest and moved it to cover and massage his left nipple with the palm of my hand.

His heartbeat was surprisingly calm for such a situation. Maybe this was just an experiment for him. When I called a time-out in the tongue dance, I sat back on my heels and looked at him. His eyes were still closed and there was the most satisfied smile on his face. I checked his crotch and there was no evidence of arousal. I held his chin in my hand to get his attention. "See, Kevin? There's no difference, is there?"

His response was a barely audible, "Mmm hmmph." He held my hand to his face so I couldn't move it, opened his eyes and said, "I love you, Bob." That said, he collapsed back onto the sofabed, bounced once and was still.

I could only shake my head. "Well, pal, you've got one helluva way of showing it," I said out loud. I finished taking off his pants, swung his legs up onto the bed and under the sheet and propped a pillow under his head.

I sat on the sofabed and stroked his hair trying to get it to go in one direction. It refused and I stopped, but I left my hand on his head enjoying the softness of his hair. I leaned over and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear. "I love you too, Kevin. God help us both."