Taking In Strays (17 page)

“Nope, girlfriend would freak,” the man chuckled as if that admission didn’t matter. “She doesn’t know I like it on the other side, once in awhile.”

Of course his admission didn’t matter, Donny thought, because this didn’t mean anything. That should have been fine with him; two guys screwing and having normal, every day, sex. Get off, get gone, and walk away.

“I saw a cop!” Donny suddenly blurted out.

The man backed up with an exclamation, half jerking his jeans up as he looked wildly down the ally. Donny was jerking up his own jeans and sliding past him, quicker than an eel, and leaving the ally just like that. He strode quickly towards the bus stop as he zipped and buttoned, weaving in an out of pedestrians.

The man didn’t follow. Donny didn’t blame him. A spooked person might decide to call attention, to put a name to what had almost happened that might get someone tossed in jail, or to out a bi-man who had been ready to screw him in an ally, but not take him home to an unsuspecting girlfriend.

The bus was there. Donny took the steps at a run and then flung himself into a seat. He hunched low until the bus pulled away from the stop. People looked at him nervously, but then he was ignored when he stayed brooding and quiet.

As the bus moved out and headed back across the city, Donny tried to ease the ache in his pants and in his heart. It wasn’t easy suddenly rating yourself too high to have a quick one on one with a stranger. Or maybe it wasn’t that he rated himself too high? Maybe he didn’t want to fall any lower?

Donny tried to imagine Peter’s face, his kind eyes, square chin, and blonde crew cut. The guy in the alley didn’t come close to that image of Peter in looks or personality. Peter would have treated Donny as if he mattered. He would have looked at Donny and seen someone, not just a quick fuck. Peter would have made love to him.

A better job, a steady paycheck, and eventually a move to an apartment were Donny’s immediate goals. Going after Peter Parker came after that. Don’t fuck that up, Donny told himself and the ache eased as he once again committed to it.

“That’s two people I’m down!” the sous chef exclaimed angrily when Donny had called him to quit his job.

“Two?”

“Cranston never showed for work,” The chef explained irritably. “Not that you care.”

Donny did care. He suspected that Cranston had been the one to call his father. The man had probably been paid off to keep quiet afterward. Knowing his father, Donny was sure he had paid Cranston enough to take a year or more off from fish gutting.

“Nobody gives notice any more,” the sous chef was complaining.

“Sorry,” Donny apologized.

“No, you aren’t,” the sous chef retorted. “You had potential Kirkpatrick. I was about to move you up to a better position.”

It was an offer, but half hearted. “Sorry,” Donny replied again. “The restaurant business just isn’t my thing.”

“Thing?” the sous chef said something foul before hanging up the phone.

Donny was surprised when his phone rang almost immediately afterward. “Hello?”

“It’s Dan.”

Donny sighed, knowing that he had to explain himself.

“The restaurant said that you were a no show, today,” Dan said, sounding disappointed. “If you’re not feeling well, or something comes up that will prevent you from working, it’s required that you notify your work place, They might fire you. Please call them as soon as possible.”

“I have called them, “ Donny explained as he stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling, receiver at his ear. “I quit.”

The tirade was expected. Donny let Dan talk himself out before he interjected his good news.

“I have another job,” Donny explained.

“Why didn’t you say so?” Dan demanded.

“Because explaining it to you is easier when I’m not trying to shout over your lecture,” Donny explained. “Are you done, now, and ready to listen?”

“Yes, but I reserve judgment.”

“I don’t think you’ll be pissed, so calm down,” Donny retorted. “I saw my father yesterday.”

“You’re going back home?”

Donny took a deep breath and then let it out. “No. I’m still not the son my father wants. I did manage to talk to one of my…” Guard sounded cold and impersonal. Burton deserved more than that. “Friends. He gave me a lead to a job at a book store. The owner said that I could start tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” Dan said, “and it does sound like you have a plan that’s working, especially if you’re still employed. So many people give up and ruin opportunities given to them. I’m glad that you’re not one of those people, Donny.”

“I’m trying not to be,” Donny assured him and then asked nervously, “Is Peter okay? Has he said anything about me?”

Dan didn’t answer for a long moment and then he seemed to come to a decision. “He asks about you constantly. He worries about you. In fact….” He didn’t finish.

“What?” Donny prompted.

“I’m not going to say anything,” Dan finally said. “I’ll tell you only that you made an impression on him and that he can’t forget about you.”

Donny smiled, glad that he had resisted the temptation of easy sex earlier. “I know what you’re thinking. I won’t forget the plan. Knowing that Peter does want to wait for me, makes me even more determined to clean up my life.”

“Good,” Dan replied. “That’s what he deserves.”

“I think so too.” He felt a hot blush as he added, “Uh, can I ask a very big favor?”

“Bigger than getting you a home, a job, a bus pass….?”

“Maybe…”

“Ask.”

“It would… well… I think… I mean…”

“Spit it out Kirkpatrick!”

“I’d like a photo of Peter…. for inspiration?”

Dan chuckled. “I feel like I’m in high school again.  Does Peter get a photo of you in exchange?”

“I can arrange that,” Donny said, laughing in embarrassment, as he reached to the side table and picked up a photo of himself. He had salvaged it from the mansion. In the photo he was dressed for success in a black suit. Against the backdrop of the well appointed mansion, he had been smiling and standing with his hands in his pockets. Donny tried to remember the occasion. He could only recall a vague notion that it had been a holiday. The campaign photographer had shown it to his father with the suggestion that it would make him seem more like a family man with a good looking, approachable son, as his heir. His father had rejected it in favor of a photo of himself looking like a leader with the American flag behind him. Even then Donny had been an embarrassment and not someone his father had wanted to risk presenting to reporters.

Donny had kept the photo because he had looked less like the cynical, edgy son of the mayor, and more like someone he might have liked.

“I’ll drop by your place tomorrow evening on my way home,” Dan told him. “We’ll exchange photos.”

“Sounds good,” Donny agreed. He yawned and Dan heard him.

“Get some rest so you get to work on time and do well,” Dan told him.

“I won’t let either of you down,” Donny promised.

“I’ve told you before, Donny,” Dan replied, “You’re the only one you need to impress. You need to do it for
you
.”

“Okay, so I’ll make sure I’m the best book seller my new boss has ever hired,” Donny promised.

“Good. You impress me more and more every day, Donny. You’ve already exceeded all of my expectations. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Dan,” Donny returned and then heard the click. He found himself sitting with the phone in his hand for a long time afterward enjoying the warmth those words had given him.

Mr. Burton was already at the store and brewing coffee when Donny went to work the next day. In casual jeans and a blue t-shirt, he hoped that he wasn’t underdressed. Burton sniffed as he glanced at an old clock peeking out between dusty tomes, but didn’t choose to say anything. Donny was on time and his clothing wasn’t inappropriate.

“Hey…. Cat,” Donny said lamely as the cat walked across the front checkout counter to rub against Donny’s chest. He rubbed behind an ear and it purred.

“Thomas.”

Donny blinked and then corrected, “Uh, my name is Donny, sir.”

The man rolled eyes as he began taking out packages of paper coffee cups and placing them next to the percolating coffee pot. “Thomas is the name of the cat.”

“Oh, of course,” Donny replied with an embarrassment chuckle.

“Never mind the cat,” Burton said impatiently. “Take those café chairs and two tables and place them outside the door. Customers are waiting.”

The front window of the shop was a little dirty, but it wasn’t dirty enough to hide customers. The sidewalk outside was empty. “Uh, yes, sir.”

Donny didn’t care how eccentric the man was, as long as he gave Donny a paycheck on time and kept him from going back to gutting fish. He put the chairs out, arranged them in a way that he hoped would invite paying customers to sit, and then turned to find that several people had entered the shop while his back had been turned. Curious about who shopped at old book stores so early in the morning, Donny went back into the store and slipped behind the counter where Burton was serving coffee.

Burton’s hand wasn’t steady. Brown droplets hit the counter. His old gaze was a study in concentration. When the cup was full, though, he was on to the next one while saying, “Help yourself to a donut.”

There was a tray on the counter, now, next to the curled up cat, who was ignoring the proceedings to catch up on its sleep. The donuts smelled newly baked and were sprinkled with sugar. The customers confirmed themselves as regulars when they all knew which donuts in the line up contained which filling.

“Lemon cream,” an older man sighed happily as he used a napkin to pick up a donut one handed. His cup of coffee was in his other hand. “The best I have ever eaten.”

“Raspberry,” a young woman argued. “They are the best.”

“Coconut cream,” the other man protested. “It’s toasted for god’s sake! How can you even argue that it’s not the best?”

The first man looked to be in his forties. He wore a thick, gray sweater, hounds tooth wool pants, and loafers that had seen better days. He had the high browed expression and way of speaking that spoke of either breeding or an acute education. The woman wore a business suit that had the name of a real estate firm emblazoned on one breast. In her latter twenties, with her red hair pinned in a
power bun
, she seemed the most out of place of the three. The last man was closer to fifty than forty and looked as if he had enjoyed the donuts a little too often. He was dressed in black, with silver, new age style jewelry around his neck and covering every finger. His slicked back black hair was braided but thinning to a
rat tail
.

“Is this a new employee?” The last man asked with an arched black brow as he looked Donny over. “His aura is erratic. I wouldn’t trust him.”

“That’s called youth,” Burton muttered as he finished pouring the coffee. “As for being trustworthy…” he shrugged as he poured himself a cup of coffee, “Every person deserves a chance.”

The black clad man rubbed at a crystal hanging from his neck. “When he’s robbed you and left you with a knock on the head, I’ll remind you of that, Burton.”

Burton sighed as if silently asking for patience. “The only one I see robbing me is you. Are you ever going to buy one of my books, Talbot?”

“I’m still considering that old Tennyson,” Talbot replied as if insulted. “A book has to speak to me.”

Burton began ringing up the others for magazines and the morning paper. “When a book speaks to you, finally, Talbot, I hope it compensates me for a year’s worth of homemade donuts.”

“If I buy that Tennyson, it will,” Talbot retorted and then filed out with the others to sit at the tables out front.

“Do they come here every morning?” Donny asked, knowing the answer but wanting to make conversation.

“Oh, yes,” Burton replied as he put a sheet of plastic over the donuts. “Theresa came in one day to ask if I wanted to sell the place to a music store chain. My reply was, “Hell, no.” she ate one of my donuts and fell in love. She’s been coming here before work, every day since. Talbot owns a t-shirt shop a few stores down the road. He makes his own designs. They’re very good, well, if you like that Goth movement.”

“What about him?” Donny gestured with his chin at the last man.

Burton shrugged. “His name is Charles. I don’t honestly know anything besides that. He came in one morning when his car broke down and his cell wasn’t working. He ate my donuts while he was making his call and, like Theresa, he’s been coming here ever since. He never says what he does for a living. I assume he’s a college professor, or something like it.”

Donny looked down at the donuts in speculation.

Burton sighed, “Go ahead and try one. When you’re done, I need the front windows cleaned and these books re-shelved.” He motioned to a small rolling cart loaded with books.

“Thank you,” Donny said as he poured himself some coffee and picked out what looked like a raspberry donut. Biting into the donut he could taste why those people lined up at the shop every morning. They were excellent. The donut had a creamy raspberry filling that was bursting with flavor.

Donny swallowed and smiled appreciatively as he licked his lips. “Why aren’t you a baker? These are fantastic!”

Burton smiled but it was tight. He replied, as if choosing his words to cause himself as little pain as possible, “I was, once. Sometimes, a change of career is called for.” He added, as if he needed to reaffirm his choice as a good one, “I’ve always loved books.”

Donny could count the number of books that he had read on one hand. Actually, it was closer to half a hand. He couldn’t imagine himself giving up anything to run a book store and surrounding himself with the things.

Burton must have seen the thought on his face. The man was shaking his head and muttering about young people who couldn’t appreciate
a good story in a well bound book
any longer as he made his way to the back of the shop where a small office was located.

It must have been routine. A young man in gang clothes, sporting short, red colored dreads, came breezing into the store, grabbed up a few expensive looking books, and then stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Donny standing behind the counter.