Second You Sin (13 page)

Freddy beamed and I tried to look less annoyed than I felt. Like I said, I was predisposed to dislike Ansel Darling, and his treating us like prime sides of beef didn’t do much to change my opinion.

Ansel leaned into us and in a conspiratorial murmur muttered, “You working boys are the best.” Freddy’s smile ratcheted down a notch. “Uh, Mr.

Darling, I’m not a, you know . . .”

Ansel cocked his head to the side.

“I’m not a . . .” He searched for a polite term. This being his first attempt at tact, it didn’t come easily.

“Freddy’s not a ‘professional,’ ” I stepped in. “He’s actual y the volunteer coordinator at an AIDS service agency.”

Ansel ’s attention promptly fel from my friend. “Ah,” he said, his olive eyes settling ful y on me. “And what about you, my golden boy? Are you for hire?”

“For some people.” I gave him a saccharine smile.

“I have sex for money, if that’s what you mean.” Ansel reached out for me again, and this time I let him rest his hands on my glittered hips. “Mmmm,” Ansel said, leaning in to my ear. “You real y are a tiny dream, aren’t you, my dear.” He ran his hands over my ass. “Yes, this fabric feels just as good as I thought.”

He let go and reached into his pocket and took out a smal , sterling silver case. “This is my card,” he said, opening it and slipping a piece of paper into my back pocket. “My personal number is on the back. Why don’t you give me a cal and we’l see what we can work out? I’m sure I can make it worth your while.”

Ansel , confident that I’d cal , let me go. What working boy wouldn’t want to score with a rich celebrity like him?

Freddy extended his hand for a card, too. Ansel ignored it and put the silver case back in his pants.

Freddy’s face dropped.

“So nice meeting you, too,” Ansel said to him with a total lack of interest. Then, back to me, “Be sure you cal .”

Lastly, he turned to Rueben, whose face once again was stone. “You’re too good to me,” he said.

“You get me everything I need, my sweet.” He pul ed Rueben into his arms and I saw clouds of anger, relief, appreciation, and disgust rol across Rueben’s eyes. With Rueben’s back to me, Ansel looked at me over Rueben’s shoulder. His lips silently mouthed the word one more time.
“Call.”

He let go of Rueben and disappeared into the adoring crowd.

The moment Ansel was out of sight, I took the card from my pocket and held it out to Rueben.

“Here,” I said, “I don’t want this.”

“No,” Rueben said stoical y, “you keep it,
bambino.
It’s for you.”

“Real y,” I said. “Take it. You’re my friend, man. I wouldn’t use it.”

“No.” Rueben was steel. “Ansel wants you to have it, so you keep it. Use it. Real y, I won’t mind. That’s kind of my job around here. To get Ansel whatever he wants. Real y. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“Rueben,” I began. “I couldn’t do that to you . . .” Rueben held up his hand. “No, stop. You wouldn’t be doing anything other than helping me. Besides”—

Rueben’s lips trembled a little and he blinked hard

—“Ansel wil take good care of you.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Rueben put his finger to my lips. “Shhh. He wil . Hasn’t he taken good care of me?”

What could I do? I wrapped my arms around Rueben and hugged him. “I’m sor—” I began, but Rueben once again cut me off.

“No!” he barked. “Don’t say that. Don’t be sorry for me.” He put his fake smile back on. “I’m fine, real y.

It’s just the way it is. He’s given me so much. It’d be selfish for me to expect fidelity, too.” He stepped back and gave a shudder, like a dog shaking water out of its fur. “We’re stil on for dinner, right?” He looked at Freddy and me. “Two nights from tonight, right?”

We nodded.

“Good.” Rueben grinned, a little more steady now.

“Good. Now, I have to go find my man. You two wil be al right, yes?”

We nodded again.

“
Muchas gracias, muchachos.
I’l see you then.

Angels unite!” He blew us air kisses and disappeared into the crowd.

Freddy put an arm around my shoulder. “This fun thing we’re doing tonight? Not so much with the ‘fun,’

huh?”

“Not so much,” I answered.

“Let’s say we blow this joint, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I thought you were having a great time. Five minutes ago, you were cal ing this ‘homo heaven.’ ”

“Yeah.” Freddy squeezed me closer. “Now? Like I said, not so much.”

Freddy and I sat in a diner down the street from Ansel ’s apartment. I kept my grateful y retrieved coat tied tightly around my waist. “Isn’t it warm in here?” Freddy teased. “Sure you don’t want to take that off?”

“
I’m fine,
” I growled, giving him what I hoped was a silencing squint.

“Do you have something in your eye?” Freddy asked.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Don’t flirt,” Freddy chided me. “So, your friend Rueben, what was that al about?”

“Pretty sad, huh?”

“I’d say. And what’s with that Ansel Darling? That guy could have practical y anyone he wants—actors, models, hel , I would have done him even though he’s not that good-looking. I mean, he’s Ansel Darling, right?”

I nodded.

“But, the minute he found out I wasn’t a working boy, he lost al interest in me. Lost interest in
me!
” Freddy repeated, as if it were entirely unbelievable.

“Is he only into sex if he has to pay for it? Is that what he’s about?”

“It looked that way.”

“Why? What would make a guy like him limit himself like that?”

“His parents never loved him enough, making him feel undeserving of anyone’s affections. He went through school a skinny fag, with bad skin and an unflattering hairstyle, constantly rejected and hurt. As an adult, he’s achieved a high level of fame as a designer, but real y, his entire empire is built on ripping off other people’s work. He feels like he doesn’t merit his own success, and thus his self-image is fragile and suspect. Since he doesn’t think he’s actual y earned anything, he doesn’t trust anything that comes his way unless he’s paying for it.

The only love he can believe in is the love he can buy.”

Freddy looked impressed. “Wow. Real y? How do you know al this shit?”

“I don’t,” I said snarkily. “I just made that al up.

Pretty convincing though, right?”

Freddy stood up and slapped me on the head.

“Ow. But, seriously, who knows? Most of us don’t even understand our own motivations, let alone anyone else’s. I spent this afternoon fooling around with a guy who only likes to have sex when he’s dressed like a clown—having a thing for rentboys isn’t even the weirdest kink I’ve seen
today.
”

“You fucked a clown?” Freddy asked wide-eyed.

“That’s beside the point,” I said, instantly regretting opening that door. Freddy wasn’t the type to let something like that pass unnoticed.

“It wasn’t a group thing, was it? Like, you opened the door to his apartment expecting to find one clown there, but then a hundred tumbled out?” I tried giving him another evil look.

“There goes that thing with your eye again. You real y should see an orthodontist.”

“Optometrist.”

“Whatever. Or maybe you got some whipped cream in there. He didn’t throw pies at you, did he?” This was getting too close for comfort.

“Seriously,” I said, “enough with the clowns. What about Rueben?”

“Yeah,” Freddy said, looking down at his drink.

“That was pretty sad. He seemed real y upset at how blatantly Ansel put the moves on you. He treats Rueben likes he’s staff.”

“I agree. It’s a bad scene. Rueben’s trying to stay on the straight and narrow, and I can’t believe his relationship with Ansel is helping.”

“So what should we do?” Freddy asked.

“I don’t know. We’l see him in two days, right?

Maybe we can talk to him then.”

“Great! We’l rescue our friend and solve the murders, too!” Freddy said. “I love this crime-fighting stuff.”

“Yeah, wel , last time you weren’t the one who wound up tied up and tortured, were you?”

“Would you
please
stop talking about your job?” Freddy asked. I threw my napkin at him.

“Listen, before we go too far with this stuff, we don’t even know that there were any murders,” I reminded him. Sitting in the diner, the whole thing seemed a lot less likely than it did an hour ago.

“Let’s not let our imaginations run away with us.”

“Yeah,” Freddy said, “we real y should stop
clowning
around.”

“It’s a shame your parents didn’t have any human children,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s bounce. I’l walk you home.” Just then, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Freddy flipped open the screen.

“Wel , wel ,” he said. He typed something into the keypad and hit “send.”

“What’s up?”

“That guy I was dancing with at the party. He just texted.” Freddy showed me his phone. “Leaving now,” the screen read, “want to finish what we started on the dance floor? J.”

“J.,” I said. “Which one was he?”

“Damned if I know.” Freddy shrugged.

“How did you answer him?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You don’t even know who he is!”

“So what? They were al fine. Besides, why should you be the only one around here who gets to solve mysteries?”

Great,
I thought,
Freddy in
The Case of the Unknown Trick
.

“Unless,” Freddy said, giving me the sexy stare that seduced half the eligible men in New York City,

“you want to make me a better offer?”

“I’l pass,” I said bitterly. Although what I had to be angry about, I couldn’t have told you.

“Your loss,” Freddy tril ed, pursing his perfect lips in the manner that seduced the other half.

Is it?
I asked myself, and not for the first time.

“Wait a minute,” Freddy said as he was getting ready to leave. “Isn’t tomorrow that thing with Yvonne and your mom?”

I had forgotten about that. I grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Wel , good luck with that, darling. Just remember, if the going gets tough, close your eyes and let warm thoughts of the man who loves you keep up your spirits.”

“Tony?”

“No, darling. Bozo.”

13

When You Wish Upon a Star

I didn’t get home from Rueben’s party until two in the morning. Four hours later, my phone rang, waking me from a deep and dreamless sleep.

The only person who’d cal me this early was Tony, usual y to say he was just getting off a late shift and wanted to drop by. Yum. As tired as I was, that thought was never unappealing.

I answered in a raspy morning voice. “Hey, sexy daddy.”

“It’s not Daddy, baby, it’s your mother. And why are you cal ing your father ‘sexy’?”

It was like waking up to a bucket of ice water poured on your head.

“I thought . . .”

“Never mind that,” my mother interrupted. “Aren’t you excited? I’m excited! Are you excited?”
I was until I realized it was you,
I thought. “I’m so excited,” I said, feeling very Pointer Sistersish. “What are we excited about, again?”

“Yvonne,”
my mother said reverently. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“Of course not,” I lied.

“Why aren’t you here yet?”

I looked at the clock again. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, Mom. You said to be there at noon.”

“How could you sleep at a time like this?” my mother asked. “Aren’t you excited?”

This is where I came in. “Listen,” I said. “I’m real y tired. I’l be there at noon, OK?”

“Can you make it by nine?”

“I’l try for eleven.”

“Nine thirty,” my mother countered.

“Ten thirty. That’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” my mother said. “Just meet us at the shop.

They set up the cameras and the lights yesterday.

Isn’t this exciting?”

My head was going to explode. “There are,” I assured her, “no words.”

“That’s my darling boy,” my mother enthused. “See you at ten!”

The car service got me to Sophie’s Choice Tresses at 10:15, which seemed pretty reasonable, considering.

The place was a madhouse. Outside were two high-end steel gray trailers, with smoked windows and “Yvonne” decals applied to their sides. Thick bundles of cables ran from them into the propped-open door of my mother’s beauty parlor. Various staffers, al wearing black
Yvonne
T-shirts, ran around carrying clipboards, cups of coffee, and thick rol s of silver tape. The air was dark and sooty from the idling trucks.

Meanwhile, about fifty neighborhood snoops stood outside, talking among themselves and peering through the shop windows. Two teenaged girls who real y should have been in school held up a sign that read “We love you, Yvonne!” Mrs. Petroski, from the bakery down the street, was sel ing doughnuts to the crowd. She spotted me exiting the car.

“Kevin!” she cried, running over to me. She smel ed like chocolate and powdered sugar. It was love at first sniff.

“Hi, Mrs. P.,” I said.

She pinched my cheek. “Stil such a cutie, you are.

Isn’t this exciting?”

Here we go again.
“It’s unbelievable,” I answered, honestly.

“Your mother on
Yvonne
!” she gushed. “This is the most

glamorous

thing

to

happen

to

this

neighborhood since Merv Griffin, now gone but not forgotten, at least not by me, almost choked to death on a piece of gefilte fish at Lenny’s Deli on 167th Street. We real y hit the big time then, sonny.”