On the Streets of New Orleans (8 page)

“Yeah, you right!” Tony gave him a kiss on the cheek and let him go. “Gotta go to work, baby.” Damn, it felt good to say that, even better that it was true. If he did anything from now on, it would only be to make Scott proud of him.

“Okay. See you after work.” Scott smiled at him, and damned if Tony’s dick didn’t want to stand up and wave back.

Before everyone saw his hard-on, he waved good-bye and headed out the door. He hustled down the street, cut over to the market, and sat on the steps waiting for the trucks to show up. He was early, but he didn’t care.

A truck pulled up, but it wasn’t Roscoe. Tony got an idea, jumped up, and jogged over to the truck. “Five bucks to unload your produce.”

The guy getting out of the cab gave him a hard look. “You were working with Roscoe, right?”

“Yeah. But he’s not here yet.” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and waited.

“Sure.” The man walked around and dropped the tailgate. “Five bucks.”

Tony grinned and held out his hand for the man to shake on the deal. He did, and Tony got to work.

Just as Roscoe pulled up, he finished the last of the crates. He had time to wipe the sweat off his brow and take the five-dollar bill the man gave him before hustling over to the other truck.

“See you’re working already.” Roscoe spit his tobacco juice on the ground, in what Tony hoped was approval.

“Yeah, got here early.” He waited until Roscoe opened the back of the truck.

“What you waiting for, son?” The old man gave him a nod, and Tony grabbed the first of the boxes. “What he pay you?”

“Five dollars to unload.”

“Good deal. I’ll match that.”

Tony nodded. It was a good deal. He could move faster, get the job done sooner, and collect almost as much money, guaranteed, instead of two bucks an hour.

As he unloaded, Roscoe put his produce out on the stand.

“Hey, I was thinking. How about two bucks to break down your boxes, toss them in the dumpster, and load the crates back on the truck at the end of the day?” Tony might be pushing it, but he wanted to make some money while he could.

Roscoe chewed his tobacco, thinking, Tony figured. Then he nodded. “Deal.”

“Great!”

When he finished with Roscoe, he walked around to some of the other vendors who were working alone. He asked a few, including the first guy, if he could break down their boxes and reload. A few agreed to the deal.

The rest of the time, he hung out, helped where he could in the stalls, and at the end of the afternoon, he began breaking down Roscoe’s boxes and hauling them off, then moved on to the others.

By the time he was ready to meet Scott at Tiffany’s, he had nearly twenty bucks in his pocket and a feeling that put him on top of the world.

Roscoe called over to him, “Hey, Tony! Come here. I got something for you.”

Tony trotted over to his truck. “What’s up?”

“Here. Take this. I had some stuff left.” Roscoe shoved a brown paper bag at him. Tony took it and looked inside. Apples, oranges, and bananas filled the sack.

“Whoa! This is great! Thanks, Roscoe.” He looked up at the old man.

“Well, go on. Git! I’m sure you got somewhere you need to be.”

“Yessir!”

“See you tomorrow, boy.” Roscoe headed for the cab of the truck.

Tony waved at him, tucked the bag under his arm, and started toward the restaurant to pick up his boyfriend.

Man, he liked the way that sounded. ’Course, they’d never said anything, made anything official or nothing, but still, Scott had come to live with him, hadn’t he?

He reached Tiffany’s, and Scott came down the alley. “Hey, Tony!”

Tony’s heart did a little flip at the big smile and warmth in Scott’s pale blue eyes.

“Hey, man. Look what I got.” He showed Scott the bag.

Scott peered inside and reached in. “An apple!” He took a bite. “Delicious, my favorite. Thanks.”

“I made a lot of money today.” Tony almost busted with pride.

“Great. I did okay too. Hey, on our way home, let’s stop at the drug store on Canal and pick up a few things.”

They started walking down Decatur toward Canal, just strolling side by side, chatting about their day. When they reached Central Grocery, Tony stopped.

“Hey, my treat for dinner, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How about we split a muffaletta?” Tony motioned to the door.

“Sounds great!” They went inside, stood in line, and ordered. In no time the guys behind the high wooden counter built the large round sandwich, ladled on the olive salad, wrapped it up to go, and put in a bag. Tony added two sodas from the machine, paid, and Scott carried it out.

“Where you want to eat?” Scott asked.

“How about in the square? The riverfront will be too cold.”

So they walked down to Jackson Square, found a bench in the sun, sat, and spread open the paper-wrapped sandwich, cut in quarters, between them. They each ate half, along with another apple for Scott, and a banana for Tony.

Tony sat back as he took a long drink from his soda, staring at his man, at the landscaped square, and figured
Man, it just doesn’t get any better than this
.

SCOTT WANDERED
down the aisle and found the clocks. He picked out one with an illuminated dial that worked on batteries. It had an alarm and a snooze button. Then he moved over one aisle and found two flashlights, complete with batteries, and put those in the basket slung over his arm.

Tony came around the corner and dumped six candy bars in.

“Whoa! Sweet tooth attack!” Scott chuckled.

Tony just shrugged. “You done?”

“Almost. Come on.” Scott led the way to one of the last aisles and stopped in front of a shelf filled with condoms. He glanced at Tony, who stared at him wide-eyed.

“Figured we might need some.” Scott kept his voice low, so no one would hear them.

Tony just nodded. Scott wasn’t sure if fear or excitement burned in his lover’s eyes, but no matter which it was, it turned him on.

Scott moved over a bit, searching for what else he’d need, and pulled a tube of lube off the rack. He tossed it in the basket and grinned up at Tony, who nearly choked as his head whipped around to see if anyone had seen Scott’s selection.

“Relax.” Scott rolled his eyes. “No one cares, Tony.”

They went to the counter and checked out. Scott paid for the clock, flashlights, and sex stuff, and Tony paid for the candy bars. They took the plastic bag, grabbed another one for the bag of fruit Tony still held, and left.

Tony and Scott walked down Canal Street toward the Tchoupitoulas bus stop. They caught the bus and made it home just as it got dark.

AFTER TWO
quick, icy showers, they dried off, and with a wordless understanding between them, crawled into bed naked. Scott set the alarm, put the clock on the floor on his side of the bed, and rolled over to face Tony.

The room’s darkness deepened as full night came on, and Tony’s face disappeared, less than a foot from him.

He liked this, lying in the dark, feeling the weight of Tony next to him and the sound of his breathing, knowing they were sharing this time together. It wasn’t scary, but comforting.

“Where you from, Scott?” The question came out of the dark.

For a moment it startled Scott. He thought that since Tony had refused to talk about family, this was an odd question. Unless Tony wanted to talk about family but didn’t know how to start.

Scott figured it was up to him to get the ball rolling.

“From a little town up in St. Tammy parish. You wouldn’t have heard of it. Anyway, I never knew my dad. He left before I was even born. We were real poor. Poor white trash is what they usually called us. My mom got sick and died when I was eight. I had to go to the neighbors to get help, but it was too late.” Scott paused to take a breath. “No one claimed me, so I went to a group home. Stayed there until I was sixteen, then I ran away. I never finished high school.”

“I did.” Scott heard the touch of pride in Tony’s voice. “You come here then?”

“Not at first. Mostly I hung around town. But by then I knew I was gay, and I’d already had more beatdowns over that, so I knew I couldn’t stay. I’d always heard about New Orleans, and the French Quarter and gays, so I thought I’d come here.”

“Sorry about your mom, man. So you came here about what, three years ago?”

Scott laughed. “My timing sucks. I got here the June before Katrina hit. I’d been living on the streets. That’s where I met Charlie. He was the one who talked me into coming to the shelter.”

“Oh.” Scott felt a ripple of something pour off Tony. Probably jealousy, but there was no need for that. Charlie had never tried anything with Scott, had been more like a big brother watching out for him.

“Yeah, well. Just before the hurricane hit, they bused us to Baton Rouge, to a shelter there. We stayed there until they reopened the city, then they bused the ones who wanted to return back.”

“You didn’t want to stay?”

“Naw, Baton Rouge was okay, you know, but I wanted to be here.” Scott shrugged. “There’s just something about this city, you know. It’s the place, the food, the atmosphere, and the people. Great people, like Tiffany, the guys from the club, and you.”

Although he couldn’t see it, he could tell Tony was grinning.

“Anyway, I’ve been here ever since. End of story.” Scott let it hang out there, the invitation to share, but without asking.

“I lived here all my life. Grew up in the Ninth Ward.”

“That was where the levee broke, right?”

“Right.” Tony shuddered, and Scott reached out to stroke his arm, soothing his lover. “My mama was just a no-good junkie, so my grandmama took care of us kids. She died when I was sixteen.”

“How many kids?” Scott figured that was a safe question.

“Me, the two boys, D’orel and D’enzel, and Baby Girl.”

“Were the boys twins?”

“No, just real close in age. They looked alike ’cause they had the same daddy. Not the same as my daddy or Baby Girl’s. They were light-skinned like Mama and Grandmama. Baby Girl and me, we’re dark.”

“Oh.” Scott didn’t want to say too much, just wanted to give Tony room to talk. He slid his hand down, found Tony’s hand, and wove their fingers together.

“I
promised
I’d look out for them. Promised Mama when she left us and promised my grandmama before she died.” There was an edge in Tony’s voice that cut Scott’s heart.

“Your mom left? When?”

“Two days before Katrina. She and her pimp booked it, man.” There was a lot of anger in Tony’s soft voice. “Left me in charge.”

“You were what—seventeen?”

“Eighteen.”

“You were really still a kid, Tony.”

“I was in
charge
, man. The man of the house.” Tony bit out the words, hard and sharp. “They were
my
responsibility.
Mine.
” Tony trembled.

Scott kept quiet.

Tony took a deep breath and, for a moment, Scott wasn’t sure he’d continue.

“The levee broke at night. We were sleeping, me in the front room on the sofa, the boys and Baby Girl in the back on the beds. The water hit the house so hard, the whole thing shook. I think it shifted off the piers, and the windows blew in. Fuck, before I knew it, there was water up to my neck coming through the windows and the front door, and furniture swirling around.” He took another shuddering deep breath, and Scott braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“I never got to them. I
couldn’t
, man. The water was rushing around, things were breaking, and next thing I knew, I was floating outside the house and down the block. Shit, I wound up on a rooftop.” A strangled sob broke the quiet. “I couldn’t see a damn thing. I couldn’t even see my house. I called for them for hours, ’til I couldn’t make a sound, but I couldn’t find them, Scott. I couldn’t find them.”

Another sob that broke Scott’s heart.

“No way you could, baby. Not with the water.” Scott pulled Tony into his arms and petted his back with long, soothing strokes. “It’s not your fault. You did your best. No one could’ve saved them.”

The big man sobbed into Scott’s neck, letting out all the fear, the grief, the guilt he must have been feeling for so long.

When he quieted, Tony continued, “Two days later, the National Guard pulled me off the roof in a boat. I was supposed to get on a bus and go to Houston. New life. Fresh start.” He shook his head into Scott’s chest. “But I
couldn’t
go. I couldn’t leave
them
. I’d left them inside, and they died, and I couldn’t just leave them and have a life when they didn’t. See?” He raised his head, staring at Scott in the darkness.

“I know. I understand, Tony.” Scott sniffled, his own tears burning tracks down his face.

They held each other for a long time.

SOMETIME IN
the night, Tony’s arms wrapped around Scott and pulled him to him. Tony rolled over, bringing Scott on top of him. Naked, warm under the blankets, their bodies responded like the healthy young men they were.

Tony arched up into Scott, a hard pressure stabbing Scott’s belly. Scott pressed back, returning the gesture. Tony’s hands ran up and down his back.

“Damn, you’re skinny, baby boy.”

“Thought you liked that. And what’s with the ‘baby boy’?”

“Well, you’re my baby, aren’t you?”

Scott laughed. “I guess I am.” He figured if Tony had loved his little sister and called her Baby Girl, maybe, just maybe, that meant he loved Scott too.

“Besides, you need a little fat on you. If you eat those candy bars I bought you….”

“Those are for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“Okay.” Tony chuckled, then caressed Scott’s ass. “But your ass is fine, man.”

“Glad you like it.”

Tony squeezed each cheek, pulling them open, his fingertips brushing just barely into the crevice. Scott moaned. Right, he’d bought something just for this.

He reached over the bed, felt around for the longer of the two boxes, touched the box of condoms, smiled, then located the lube. He tore it open and handed it to Tony.