Leaving Gomorrah Chapters 1-6
CHAPTER 1
She would have to die that way. Holding that damn bag in her hand. They said she had been sitting there for almost a week. Just sitting there with her eyes open, holding onto that damn bag.
They asked him if he wanted it, and he almost said no. But something wouldn’t let him get rid of it. Now it sat somewhere at the bottom of his suitcase - a bag containing his baby hair, nail clippings and three small pebbles that once was his feces, dried in the sun, now just small pebbles.
He looked at his father, who sat across from him swaying as the train rushed through the tunnels, a slight look of confusion crossing his eyes.
Antonio always knew he would meet his father one day because she had told him he would. Some nights she would sit by his bed and tell him stories about his father and that one day he would return. She never told him who his father was and where he had gone, but he guessed it was someplace where his father had no choice because if he was as good a man as his mother had said, he wouldn’t have left him in such a fucked up place. Maybe the house he grew up in wouldn’t have been so full of sadness and maybe the insanity that gripped his mother wouldn’t have happened.
Eventually, as the years passed and days wandered with no apparent end, he gave up ever seeing his father until a few years ago when his mother called him and told him his father had returned. And with that done, she closed herself back into the darkness of the small house - her life complete - while he moved away with the man he waited so long for. Now she was gone and he was living with the man who appeared before him every night just before he went off to sleep.
The train pulled into the Atlantic Avenue station and he and his father got off. They had gone back to Cincinnati to attend his mother's funeral. It had been a small gathering of people at the funeral, but it was complete. Very clear, very said-and-done because anything anyone ever thought about his mother had been set. She lived with abandon and she died alone.
After they put his mother in the ground he and his father collected a few photos and the small bag, and they returned to New York City.
They walked through the train station and made their way out into the busy daylight of Brooklyn and walked the few blocks to their apartment. Neither one of them had spoken much about the old woman because it was so hard to put her life in words, and even more difficult was putting all their lives together in one salient thought.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” his father said. “Let’s stop off and pick something up.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You sure? You haven’t eaten anything all day.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You go ahead.”
His father looked at him for a second. “Alright, I’ll be home in a little bit.”
“Okay.” He walked away without looking back at his father, yet he could feel his father’s eyes on him. It had been that way since he moved in with him. His father was always watching him.
Antonio lugged his suitcase up the four flights to the apartment and went inside. He had told the guy he would meet him around seven, so he rushed back out to catch the train over to Union Square.
Sitting on a bench, he watched people passing by. He wondered how so many of them could have so much to smile about. He didn’t hate them for it, he only wondered.
A man fitting the description of the man he was waiting for walked close to the bench, causing Antonio to sit up straight, but it wasn’t him. The man gave a curious glance and continued across the street.
Eventually, another man came towards the bench. Antonio watched him as he approached. Five-eleven; dark curly hair; jeans and green and yellow tennis shoes. He couldn’t see if his eyes were hazel since the man was too far away.
As the man approached he caught sight of Antonio, then, slowing, he came up to the bench. “Antonio?”
Antonio stood up. “Yeah.”
The man smiled. “Julian.”
The two of them walked across the park and down a street.
An hour later, Antonio stood at the bathroom sink, washing himself. The man came in and stood beside him. “God…” He smiled as he watched Antonio’s dick.
Antonio grinned. “You make a lot of noise. You know that?”
“I’m just glad my roommate wasn’t here.”
“What’s he about?”
“It’s a she.”
“What’s she about?”
“Everything. Like me.”
“So y’all cool like that? She gay?”
“Not really. She does the lesbian thing every once in a while, but not really.”
“Think she would be into me?”
Julian laughed. “God yeah,” he said as he palmed Antonio’s dick. “Hell yeah.”
“Maybe next time.”
After he got dressed, the man gave him the other half of the money.
“Thanks,” Antonio said.
“No. Thank you,” Julian replied as he leaned up to kiss Antonio.
Antonio pulled back, “Nah, I don’t do that.”
Julian shrunk away. “Okay.”
“You got my number. Call me when you feel like it.”
“I will.”
Leaving Union Square, he headed uptown and got off on 135th Street, then walked a few blocks over to the apartment of two friends: LaVonte and Kamon. He rang the buzzer, announced himself and walked up to the apartment.
“What’s up nigga? Where’s yo’ key?” Kamon greeted as he let Antonio in.
“I left it at home.”
“So how was it?” Kamon asked.
“It was a’ight.”
“Nigga pay money though, don’t he?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Told you. How much he give you?”
“Nigga you act like you my pimp or some shit.”
Kamon looked at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “A'ight, a'ight. Come on, let's head out,” he said as he slapped Antonio's back.
They headed back down to 34th Street where LaVonte was waiting nearby for them in Herald Square. He sat with his face away from them watching the streets.
Kamon and Antonio nudged each other and crept up beside him.
Grinning, Kamon leaned down. “Whatchou doin’, bitch?” he demanded.
LaVonte jumped up, his crippled legs almost causing him to fall backwards. Antonio and Kamon howled at how frightened he was.
“Damn, man!” he exclaimed. “Don’t be doin’ no shit like that!”
Kamon and Antonio continued to laugh.
“Where the fuck you been?” LaVonte asked as he held onto the bench to steady himself. “I been waitin’ here almost half an hour.”
“Stop whining. We got all night.”
“No we don’t. Me and Tonio gotta get up for work tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Antonio agreed. “So let’s get goin’.”
The three of them walked back over to 34th Street with Antonio and Kamon pacing themselves so LaVonte could keep up. They grabbed a bite to eat.
The night was warm and sticky.
Antonio sat eating a slice of pizza and watched the rush and flow of midtown. Even after almost three years, the constant movement of people, cars and lights still amazed him. Taking one last draw from his cola, he stood. “Let’s go. We got a lot to do.” And the three young men headed out into the night.
CHAPTER 2
Otis sat out on the dock and finished lunch with some of his co-workers. The dampness and the summer heat rested on the city like a sleeping animal and made it difficult to breathe. “Okay, why are we sittin' out here when we could be in air conditioning?” He asked.
“Just let me finish my cigarette,” Linda said.
“It's hot as fuck out here and you got us out here sittin' in all this heat while you smoke a damn cigarette.” Steven bucked his eyes as he leaned towards her.
“Look, I gotta have a cigarette after I eat. It's the way I do things.”
“Shit. Well do it by yourself, lady,” Luis said. “I'm goin' in.”
The others agreed and got up to go back into the warehouse.
Otis' phone rang and he answered. It was Emory.
“Hey, you still with the others?”
“Yeah.”
“Well don't say my name. I just wanted to catch you before you went back from your lunch break.”
“Yeah, it is about that time.”
“We still meeting up for dinner this evening?”
“Still on.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I have to stay a little bit late and get some things done here.”
“Alright.”
“But I'll meet you there.”
“Alright.” Otis hung up and shook his head as he walked back into the warehouse.
After work Otis was just about to go down into the subway when he saw Emory coming his way.
“Ready to go,” Emory said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.
“That was quick. I thought you were staying late?”
“I had to make it quick so I could spend time with you,” Emory said. He looked around. “Come on.” He hurried Otis down the stairs to the station.
“So… How is it going with you and your son?” Emory asked. They were seated near the back of the restaurant because Emory said it always felt as if he were on display when he sat near the window.
“Okay,” Otis said. “We got a few kinks to work out but it’s okay. He seems to be settled. Made some friends.”
“That’s good. This isn’t a place to make quick friends. I guess he’s an extrovert like his ol’ man, huh?”
“I guess you can say that. I’m still getting to know him.”
“After three years?”
“Yeah. He don't like to tell me things. Keeps a lot inside.”
“He's not in any trouble is he?”
“No. He just likes to keep some space for himself.”
“Like you.”
Otis laughed. “I guess so.”
Emory shook his head, “Man. That must be something. All those years and you find out you have a kid.”
“Yeah, it caught me off guard.”
“And a son. And you being… you know.”
Otis looked pathetically at Emory.
“Well, you know what I mean. So how is he handling it?” Emory glanced at the table nearby where a group of people sat.
“Fine. You seem to be making more of a deal of it than him,” Otis laughed.
Emory sat back. “Well, it is kinda different, you know.”
“Not really. A lot of gay folks have kids. Especially black gays.”
Cutting his eyes to the table on the other side, Emory picked up his glass and took a swallow. “Still…”
“For real man, it’s okay.”
“Well at least he seems to have his head together.”
“He’s young. Got some shit he’s dealing with. But yeah, he’ll be okay.”
After dinner the two of them went to a bar at Emory’s urging. Otis knew what was up but he went along anyway. They sat at the end of the bar, away from the other patrons.
“You know, I’m glad you came back,” Emory said. “For a while there I thought, ‘shit, he’s home now. Probably gonna stay there.’ And I was resigned to that.”
Otis sipped his drink then set it on the bar. “Nah. Cincinnati’s not home anymore. I got a lot of love for it, but it can never be home again.”
“Too many memories, huh.”
“It’s just not home. It was the place for me when I was a boy, but not as a man.”
“I can understand that. All the shit you went through,” Emory said as he put his glass to his mouth and took a drink. “How was it seeing all those people again after, what, twenty years?”
“A little more than that,” Otis said. “It was strange more than anything. At first I was nervous. I was like, ‘what the fuck am I supposed to do? After all those years, what the fuck am I supposed to do?’ But I knew we had to talk. All of us.”
“Yeah,” Emory said as he nodded his head. He paused a bit before continuing. “What about your friend? How did you feel when you saw him? I bet a lot of old feelings surfaced, huh.”
“A little. But shit, all that went away once we started hashing things out.”
“I thought he might win you over again,” Emory said as he stirred his drink. “End up keeping you there with him.”
Otis shook his head. “Uh uh.”
“Well I’m glad you came back,” Emory said. He looked deep into Otis's eyes before glancing at the table near them, then away.
They walked to the train station. Otis was just about to start down the stairs when Emory stopped him.
“Are you glad you came back?”
Otis looked at him for a quick second before answering, “Yeah. This city was the only place that would take me. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before turning back down the stairs.
Otis called out to Antonio as he came through the door that evening. There was no reply, so he went to his son’s bedroom and knocked on the door. “Antonio, you up?” Still there was no reply. He opened the door and saw he hadn’t come in yet. He closed the door back and went in to take a shower.
Standing under the spray he let the water roll over him. He told Emory his son had some things to work out, but he didn’t tell the whole story.
He thought about his son selling his body. He remembered how he found out. It had been during an argument at the house of a man who owed Antonio money. At first Otis was confused as he stood in the middle of the fight. He heard the man and Antonio yelling at each other, but the meaning of their words wasn’t clear. It wasn’t until after a few seconds that his head cleared and the words sank in. The man said, “I gave you what I always give you,” and “You didn’t do any more than you usually do,” and it was the look on the man’s face as he made the statements that hit home because it was a face Otis had seen many times. It was clear. The life Otis had struggled so hard to leave behind had found the son he never knew. He and Antonio talked about what happened that night and it was during that conversation that Otis told him he was gay.
Antonio had looked down at the ground after his father told him, and a wry smile crossed his face. To him it was nothing more than another slice of irony. He and his father both fucked men and that’s all there was to it. He was used to having unusual things in his life.
Otis had asked Antonio if he was gay and Antonio told him he wasn't. He said hustling was just something he did. But he said it was okay that Otis was gay. Before they left for New York, Antonio promised Otis he would get out of the life, but sometimes Otis wondered if he really had.
For Otis, hustling had been about survival. After prison he found himself in New York City, too ashamed to return home. But making it in The Apple was hard, especially for a black ex-con. After landing there, he spent the first few weeks sitting in his room at the Y looking through want ads and looking for work. Finally, after running out of the few dollars he had managed to save, and after losing his room, he ended up on the streets.
But there was one thing he had figured out once he hit the city, and that was: even though it was hard for an ex-con to find a job, a young black man with a hard body and big dick could make money. And the fact that he was ruggedly handsome made it easy for him to get over just to buy food and time until he got on his feet. That was what he knew happened to him many years ago.
But he couldn't understand why his son had gotten into the game.
Sometimes he found himself studying Antonio, trying to glean what he could about the stranger who was his son, but it was difficult because Antonio moved in such furtive ways, as if he knew that if he were discovered he might lose something. But what, Otis couldn’t figure it out.
Later that night he heard Antonio come in. Otis sat in bed reading a book. Antonio knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
“Hey,” Antonio greeted as he stepped into the room.
“You just getting in?”
“Yeah. I worked a double shift, so I helped ‘em close up.”
“There’s some dinner in the oven.”
“Okay. I’ll have it for breakfast. I’ve been eatin’ all day.”
Antonio started to close the door.
“Antonio.”
“Yeah.”
“Man, don’t work so hard. Everything is fine.”
“Okay,” Antonio said, and closed the door.
****
The knock at the door was sudden, breaking the silence of the house and causing the boy to jump up, knocking over his toys. It came again, loud and threatening. The boy felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stood in the middle of the room looking around for his mother, but she wasn’t there. Quickly he gathered up his toys and any trace he might leave behind and quietly went to his room. It was what he had been taught to do. He slid beneath his bed and down onto the floor where he continued to crawl until he came to the house underground. Once there, he tucked his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth, waiting for his mother to return.
The sun crept through the window and beyond the curtains, waking Antonio from a heavy sleep. Morning had come too soon. He turned in bed, pushing what was left of the dream from his head.
As the dream faded, his thoughts moved to his mother. It didn’t seem as if she had died. At times he could still feel her standing near and he could smell her fragrance, a scent that always reminded him of the sweet peas she always cooked. He didn’t deny that she had passed on, but there simply was no sense of loss and he knew why: because she wasn’t gone. She would never leave.
In his mind he saw the house they had lived in. It was dark because his mother always kept it in shadows. The curtains were always drawn. He remembered sometimes standing in front of the windows, listening to the world outside - the sound of cars rolling by, the laughter of children - and he would imagine what the world looked like. He wondered how the cars looked and how the laughter looked on the faces of the children, but he was afraid to look through the blinds. He had learned not to.
One day, he heard someone playing a radio. The music that came from it was different, like someone talking in rhymes over jagged rhythms. It was something he’d never heard before. Walking to the window, he lowered one of the slats of the dusty old blinds and peered out. His mother had been in the kitchen doing laundry, and when she saw him looking out the window, she yelled and rushed into the room where she snatched him away and beat him. He remembered how, with each blow, she screamed that they would never take him from her.
Rolling to his feet, Antonio went to the bathroom and began to get ready for work.
CHAPTER 3
Otis finished picking up a few things for himself and Antonio. Capn’ Crunch. There was a time he never would've bought anything like that. So many things had changed since Antonio moved in with him: sharing duties around the house, cooking for two, picking up after his son and just knowing that there was someone else, another breath in the room down the hall when he slept. It had been a long time since someone else shared his space and he didn't want to lose that.
But he wasn’t sure where to go next with Antonio. He had missed watching him grow up, had missed out on those years when he was supposed to have seen him become a man, of dreaming that one day he might be an engineer or a doctor. Those days were gone and he hadn’t been around. Antonio was already a man when their paths crossed. How do you raise a man?
Otis put the groceries on the counter. “What’s up Manny?” he said.
“Ah nothin’. Just doin’ my thing ‘til I get off from work.”
“Then what?”
“Home to the wife and kids, then to bed.”
“That’s good to hear.” He knew the problems Manny had in the past with drugs.
“Yeah, that’s it now. I don’t do nothin’ out there no more,” Manny went on. “My cousin, he come around sometime and, ‘hey Manny, let’s go here, and let’s go there’ and I tell him, ‘nah cuz, I ain’t into that no more.’” He put the last of the items in the bag. “Know what I mean?”
“Believe me, I do. Not much out there to grow old on.”
“Nah, sure ain’t. And I do wanna grow old.”
“You will, m’man,” Otis said as he picked up the bag. “See you later.”
When he got to his street, Otis looked up at his apartment. The windows were dark. He had hoped Antonio would have made it home, but just like so many other nights, he hadn’t.
Otis walked in and put the groceries away. Then he turned the lights back out and went into the living room where he sat in his chair and disappeared into the darkness of his apartment and the darkness of his thoughts.
CHAPTER 4
The lunch crowd at Corso's had settled in and Antonio moved about his station, filling glasses and removing dishes. People sat out front talking over their meals under a white afternoon sun. Hurrying in and out of the restaurant, he watched the patrons and the busy streets. Movement, light, and sound. He enjoyed it more than anyone could imagine because he had been denied it for much of his life.
As a boy, he used to draw what he envisioned went on beyond the closed blinds and the drawn curtains. Bits and pieces of life outside his mother’s house were all he saw and that was during the ride to and from school in his mother’s car. He would wonder how it felt to run in circles like he saw the kids do at school and he would imitate them at home in his
bedroom, running and running in little circles with his arms out, just like the kids who never invited him to join them. He would run, and run in circles until he fell from exhaustion.
Butloneliness was nothing compared to the disruption he knew would occur if he let anyone into his world. That if he did open the door, or if he dared to open the blinds, they would come and take him from her and she was all he knew that was sure in life.
He went back to the kitchen carrying a tub of dirty dishes. “Comin’ through,” he called out as he pushed past his co-workers. They were standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Hey Southern, ain’t that Marcus Bond?” Chris asked Antonio. He always called Antonio ‘Southern’ because he said it sounded like he had come from the dirty south. Antonio didn’t mind because he kind of liked the name.
“Who?”
“Marcus Bond,” LaVonte said.
“Who’s that?”
The other guys gawked.
“Who’s that?” Chris remarked. “Tell your boy who Marcus Bond is,” he said, stepping back in awe.
“Who’s that?” someone else mocked.
“The record producer,” LaVonte said.
“And movie producer,” someone else said.
“He owns On Marc Productions,” LaVonte explained.
Antonio looked back out the door back to the table. “Damn,” he whispered.
Now, with a little schooling, Antonio coolly walked past the table where the man sat. He heard the server mention the man’s last name. It was definitely Marcus Bond.
Even though he didn’t know much about the man, what he had learned was enough to tell him to keep his eyes on the man’s table where he sat with two other men and a woman.
On his way back to the kitchen, Antonio passed the table and as he did so he felt someone grab his arm.
“What are you going to do now that you’ve met me?”
Antonio looked down at the man. “Huh?”
The other people at his table laughed.
“Marcus let him go,” the woman admonished between her laughter.
“I see you keep looking over here, so here I am. Now, you’ve met me.”
“Yeah,” Antonio whispered.
“I’m just kidding you man.” He stuck out his hand and Antonio shook it.
Antonio laughed, exhaling relief.
“I saw you and your boys looking over here. Tell ‘em, yeah, it’s me. And not right now if they have a demo on them. If they got something, they can contact me. Here.” He handed Antonio a card.
“Thanks,” Antonio said. “I’ll tell them.” He looked around the table at the smiling faces. “Thanks,” he repeated and hurried back to the kitchen.
“Man, I can’t believe we saw Marcus Bond, man,” Chris said.
Antonio and his co-workers sat in back eating their dinner after setting up for the evening guests.
“I know, and you shoulda seen your ass jumping up and down when Tonio gave you his card,” LaVonte laughed.
“That shit was crazy. I was like, whoa! What the fuck!”
“I thought your ass was gonna pass out,” Antonio said as he slapped Chris on the back.
Chris hit knuckles with Antonio. “Yo, you did it, Southern. I gotta hand it to you.”
“You gonna use it?”
“Fuck yeah. I’m gonna be like the first Asian-American rapper to blow up on the scene. I even got a name for myself. Tao.”
“What?” LaVonte asked.
“Tao. You know, the way. The path. Y’all need to get it together if y’all gonna work for me.”
“Aw nigga…” Antonio said as they all laughed.
After work Antonio and LaVonte walked through The Village and down to the piers where they sat and looked out over the Hudson. The sun moved behind the city, bringing with it night. Along the waterfront, the lights from the shore and the lights from boats danced on the water.
“I ain’t had a chance to talk to you about ... you know ... your moms. How’re you doin?” LaVonte asked.
“I’m alright, I guess. It don’t even seem like she’s gone.”
LaVonte looked at him. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I can’t imagine what I would do without my moms, so I know how you must feel.” He rubbed Antonio’s shoulder.
“But I’m alright,” Antonio said as he bobbed his head.
“How’s your pops holdin’ up?”
“He’s cool. They wasn’t never married or nothin'.”
“Don’t matter.”
“They wasn’t even in love,” Antonio said quietly.
“You takin’ all this shit mighty easy, man,” LaVonte said as he looked back out across the water.
“Might as well. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.”
LaVonte continued to stare ahead. Finally he spoke. “Your pops is pretty cool.”
“He is.” Then Antonio looked askance at his buddy. “You think he’s hot,” he grinned.
LaVonte blushed.
“I can tell the way you acted when you saw him. All jittery and shit.” Antonio jiggled his body, then slapped LaVonte on the back.
“Yo! He is, though,” LaVonte exclaimed. “Man, your father is fuckin’ hot.”
They laughed.
“So you must think I’m alright, huh?” Antonio sniffed confidently. “People say me and him look a lot alike.” He looked at his friend, his head cocked with arrogance.
“You alright. Too skinny though.”
“Man fuck you,” Antonio laughed. “C’mon. Let’s get somethin’ to drink.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Imma let my ol’ man know I ain’t gonna be in for a while.”
“A’ight.”
“Who knows,” Antonio said as he dialed the phone, “Maybe you and me might even kick it later on.”
“Who knows?” LaVonte replied as they walked back into The Village.
****
The call came but Otis didn’t hear it. He had put his phone on silent before going into the abandoned building and now he walked out of the building and down the dark alley.
CHAPTER 5
People came towards Otis, but no one spoke to him. That was because no one knew him.
Twenty-nine years in the same city and only a few people could say they really knew him, and he was the reason for that. He had learned to keep people at arm's length because he knew all they wanted to do was to take what they could from you and if they couldn't then they would destroy you. He knew this because so much had been taken from him and he swore it wouldn’t happen again.
He arrived at a flea market. He avoided the one in Chelsea because he didn’t want to run into Emory and hear all the whining. He knew Emory wanted them to be together, but he knew it wouldn’t work and he had told him that. So now every time he saw Emory he had to look into his longing eyes and listen to the constant whine in his voice. But not today.
The market was busy that Saturday afternoon. People spread out along the lot migrating from vendor to vendor under a distant pearl colored sky. He didn’t know what he was looking for, just something unique to buy. Owning unique things gave him something to look at in the lonely space of his apartment since Antonio was rarely there.
He moved along the tables and the stands, searching for something to buy. No more African pieces unless they were unique; something original he could afford. Vendors hawked to him, and he waved them away.
Finally he came to a stand where an elderly woman sat. With her aquiline nose and deep set eyes he could tell she was Eastern European. She had a table filled with scarves, shawls and blankets. Otis looked at the colorful pieces of fabric. He appreciated the designs woven into them and figured they were from her homeland. A nice hanging with a display light overhead would be cool, he thought. He chose the one he wanted, a large red one with blue, yellow, green and purple colors marching through it, and paid the woman, who thanked him through her brown, well-worn teeth.
He walked away from the stand, admiring the cloth, when someone called him. He looked among the crowd and saw a man at one of the stands motioning to him. Something about the man looked familiar: average height but wiry. He had a beard and wire-rimmed glasses.
Otis walked through the lot towards the man, and as he came upon him, he broke into a grin. The man's name was Nathan and he was one of the few people Otis had gotten to know when he first arrived in the city.
Nathan came from behind his stand, and he and Otis hugged each other and held onto each other for a while.
“I thought that was you,” Nathan said. “I was like, is that? And then as you got closer, I was like, yeah. Hell, yeah. Man you ain’t changed a bit.”
“Now you know that’s a lie,” Otis said as he rubbed the flecks of gray in his hair.
“Shit that ain't nothing. Look at me. Come on.” Nathan led him back to the stand. “I don’t wanna be too far from my stuff.”
“You’re lookin’ good, man,” Otis complimented as Nathan walked back behind his stand. He hadn’t seen him in almost twenty-nine years. The two of them shared a floor at the Y. Nathan had just arrived in town only a week before Otis. With pen in hand and dreams of becoming a writer, he had landed feet first from Norfolk.
Both of them green to the city, the two men had developed a dependence on each other, passing along tips about jobs and apartment vacancies. The dependence eventually turned into a friendship. But when Otis was evicted from the Y, they lost touch.
“I’m wearin’ glasses now,” Nathan said, as he adjusted the large frames on his slim face. “That's a sign, huh?”
“I need ‘em too.”
“What, you're too vain to wear them? Shit, not me.”
“Nah, it ain’t like that. Just too lazy to go to the doctor. So how’s it been? Man!” Otis exclaimed, shaking his head, “It’s been years.”
“Yep. I’ve been doin’ okay. Writing and selling.”
“That’s good.”
“You know that’s my life.”
“Still writing plays? Or books?”
“Plays. Got my fourth one to the stage now and one on the way. Other than that I’m doing alright. Got a few other things on the side, but I’m alright. What about you?”
“Working. Been on the same job for going on sixteen years.”
“Cool. What do you do?”
“I work in the warehouse at LifeCom.”
“Oh, so you can get me free cable,” Nathan joked.
“Shit, I can’t even get free cable. Discounted, but not free.”
“Discount’ll work,” Nathan laughed.
“Where you living?”
“A Hundred Twenty-Sixth and Eighth. How ‘bout you?
“Brooklyn.” He looked around the stand. “This yours?”
“Black Vintage. That’s the name of my shop. I do the flea market thing sometime, you know, tryin’ to spread my name around.”
“That sounds like you.” Otis picked up an old copy of Tan magazine. Dorothy Dandridge and Harry Belafonte clung to each other on the cover.
“You should come by and check it out. One Hundred Twenty-Third and Malcolm.” He waved Otis behind the stand. “Come on, sit with me.”
“Yeah. I’m gonna have to do that,” Otis said, setting the magazine down.
“So tell me, what’s been going on? How’s it been going with you?”
Otis laughed. “Man, you wouldn’t believe…”
“It’s been like that?”
“Just like that.”
A woman came to the stand and began looking at a brown cloche hat with a purple ribbon around it.
“Hold on.” Nathan went to the woman.
Otis watched him talking to the woman. Nathan, with his back to him, looked the same as he did years ago: small, wiry and with that little knot of an ass. Otis remembered kissing that small knot of an ass one night in Nathan’s room as Nathan lay on his stomach waiting for Otis to enter him. 1981 was a while ago, but Otis still warmed inside thinking how quiet they were that night; not because they were afraid of being found out and evicted from their rooms at the Young Men’s Christian Association; they were quiet because they were in one space, with one mind, knowing that each one depended on the other. Trust and respect. He remembered how they had moved slow and in concert with each other as they made love that evening, and how he held Nathan’s hands in his and kissed him along his back and shoulders.
Nathan thanked the woman and folded the money in his pocket. He sat back down beside Otis. “So what happened back then? I remember I knocked on your door one day and they told me you were gone.”
“I couldn’t pay my rent so I had to go.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Anywhere and everywhere, man.”
He told Nathan how he had lived in the streets. It was a time when days were long and nights were short. When he slept holed up in doorways or in parks, sleeping with one eye open in case he had to fight off crazies, rats or thugs. When sometimes the endless walking caused his feet to swell and hurt so bad that all he could do was sit and watch the world watch him. And how, on some winter nights, he traded the streets for a man’s bedroom just to keep warm. A naked stranger holding another naked stranger in his arms for one night in a comfortable bed, two nights when things went right.
Sometimes when he was by himself sitting in a forgotten building, he would cry into his coat, using the dirty wool to muffle the sound that rose from his throat. His cries, coming out as a coarse wail, would remind him how human he was. He didn’t tell Nathan that part. But it was the cries that saved him because they reminded him that he had something to recall and those memories, the joy and pain of loss, are what sustained him. He knew the day he stopped crying was the day he would forget who he was.
Nathan reached over and gently shook his shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that. But you know? You made it through, man. Some people don’t, but you did.” He sat back suddenly. “Know what? This calls for a celebration. Survival. We both made it through in this town without being eaten alive. Meet me back here at five. You can help me break all this down and we can go and celebrate. Cool?”
“Cool. I’ll be back.”
“What did you think?” Nathan asked as they walked along the street that night.
“I didn’t know we were going to see your play man. It was good. Risky though.”
“Yeah, I know,” Nathan grinned. “But it was the boy who was after the man,” he said, raising a finger.
“That’s true, but it was still a risky subject. The audience seemed to accept it though.”
“But what did you think? I mean, you were there when I started all this.”
Otis nodded. “Yep.”
“So what did you think?”
“I liked it. I liked it a lot because you took us where we’re not used to going.”
“And it was legit. That’s the thing. I wanted to make sure the audience knew this wasn’t some made up shit. It’s real life. We were gay before we even knew we were gay. That’s what I wanted to show.”
“You’re right about that,” Otis agreed. “I know I was.” He looked at some of the young men passing by them on the street and Antonio crossed his mind.
“Me too,” Nathan continued. “People think, like ‘hey when did you become gay?’ and I’m always like, ‘when did you become straight?’ like I made some sudden transformation. Hell, I was a gay boy so of course I was gonna be a gay man.”
“I see you still think too much.”
Nathan laughed as they continued down the street.
“So you found out you have a son,” Nathan said.
“Yeah man. That was crazy. Going back home after all those years and finding out you got a little junior waiting there for you.”
They walked into a lounge, got a table and ordered drinks.
“Mmm, man that must be a trip to go so long not knowing you have a seed walking around. How’d you find out?”
“His mama told me. She was like, ‘I want you to check in on my son. I think he needs your help.’ At first I didn’t get it. I thought she just trusted me to school her son. Thought maybe he was gay and since she knew I am…but then, when I saw the picture of him and I was like ‘damn’. And then it all came back. One night, you know how that goes. And she never told me.”
“I wonder why?”
“I don’t know…Yes I do. I know. It was me. I disappeared off the scene and she just never told me.”
“You’d think she would’ve at least hunted your family down and told them.”
“Right. You’d think.” He watched the server put their drinks on the table.
“Is he gay?”
“Nah, nah.”
“How does he take to you?”
“We’re cool. This is the twenty-first century. Things have changed since our days, man.”
“Yeah.”
Otis thought about his answer to Nathan’s question as he walked to the station. He really didn’t know if Antonio was gay. He didn’t even know if Antonio was sure. What can you say about someone who spends so much time with gay men? And the sex. Antonio told him he did it just for the money, but he wondered if it was more than that.
His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. He answered it.
“What’s up, Emory?”
“Nothing. What’s up with you?”
“Just ‘bout to head on home.”
“Where are you?”
“Harlem.”
“Why are you up there?”
“What?”
“Nothing. You want to have a drink?”
“Nah man. I’m pooped. I’m gonna call it a night.”
“You gotta pass this way to get home anyway.”
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna get off.”
“It’s just...”
“Come on, Emory, man. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
“Okay, don’t get so defensive.”
“I’m not. I just want to go on home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“We can do dinner. Shit, I forgot I have to attend a meeting.”
“Maybe another time for dinner then,” Otis suggested, trying to end the conversation.
“No. I can meet you after the meeting,” Emory persisted.
“Let’s play it by ear.”
“Alright.”
The roar of a train approaching the station came up from the tunnel.
“Gotta go. I think my train's comin'.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Right.” Otis ended the call and hurried down into the station.
CHAPTER 6
The anchor woman’s voice seemed to come from the sunrise outside the window just behind the TV. Otis picked at his breakfast, moving the eggs from one side of his plate to the other as he watched the news. It had been two days since Antonio had been home. He called the first night to let Otis know he wouldn’t be coming home and then the next day from his job, just to check in. He said he was staying with a friend, someone named LaVonte, whom he said Otis had met, though Otis couldn’t recall him. The next evening he called again to let Otis know he would be staying with him another night.
His voice sounded okay. In fact, he sounded happy. But two days was too long and two days of not knowing what was going on with his son was more than enough for Otis.
What he had learned about Antonio back in Cincinnati was still on his mind. Trade. A hustler... prostitute. It was strange enough seeing this person who had lived secretly as his son, but to find out he was a hustler just as he himself had been when he was younger was even more disturbing.
Maybe it was time he told Antonio about his years as a hustler. But how would he tell it? Where would he begin and how much would he tell? He knew he would tell him about the long nights working the streets and bars, the electric nights that only led to lonely sunrises. He would tell him how it felt to be anonymous with no one caring to know who you are, only what you offered. He would warn of the violence that gathered like clouds when night fell. But most of all he would tell him about the disease and death that followed one step behind you, so close that sometimes you could smell it. And he would tell him how no one would miss you if you slipped up because there would always be someone else with a dick just as large, a body just as hard and an ass just as tight, someone younger and tougher to replace you.
Otis washed the dishes after the news went off, relieved that the young man found in a car with a bullet through his head hadn’t been his son, yet angry that it happened at all.
He went into the bathroom and got ready to meet Nathan. He would wait for the next call from his son; at least Antonio granted him that much respect.
Otis stood in front of the museum and watched the people go in. They talked in hushed tones and in measured words as they moved up the steps.
He looked around to see if Nathan had arrived. He didn’t see him so he waited a while longer until the glances of the other patrons prompted him to go inside.
He didn’t want to go in too far because he figured Nathan would be coming soon, so he stopped across from a room where a lecture on the exhibit was being held.
Outside the door to the lecture room, a small coterie of men with serious expressions greeted the attendants and handed out programs. He figured they were members of ‘The Sons of Amistad,’ the group hosting the exhibit. They stood together with a sense of fraternity. Then, one of the greeters caught Otis’ eye. It was Emory.
Otis walked over to where Emory and his members stood and greeted him, but Emory looked at him and took a slight step back.
“What’s up, brotha?” Emory returned in a cursory manner. He reached out his hand. “How’s it going?” he continued as he shook Otis’ hand.
Otis looked at him, bewildered.
“Have you been through the exhibit? You should do that before coming into the lecture. It’ll start again at the top of the hour. Here’s a program.”
“Alright. Thanks,” Otis said as he took the program. “I’ll do that.”
“Cool. See you inside.” And with that, Emory went on greeting the other attendees.
Otis went back to the entrance and waited for Nathan but he couldn’t stop watching Emory. He wondered if Emory would at least look his way if for no reason other than to acknowledge him, but he didn’t.
It wasn’t long before Nathan arrived. “How long have you been here?” he asked as he walked up to Otis.
“Not too long. ‘Bout fifteen minutes.”
“Ready to go in?”
“Yeah,” Otis said. He looked quickly at Emory before going into the exhibit.
The exhibit centered around maritime Africa and Abu Bakari, the Voyager King of Mali. They walked through the rooms and studied the artifacts. Later, as they studied maritime maps of some of the voyages, he noticed that Emory stood a few feet from them talking to a group of visitors. Otis looked away and continued on with Nathan.
Suddenly Emory spotted them. He excused himself and came over.
“It’s a nice exhibit, isn’t it?”
Nathan turned to him. “Yeah, it is.”
“Yeah,” Otis nodded. “I didn’t know you were part of The Sons of Amistad.”
“Emory Minnefield,” Emory said as he introduced himself to Nathan.
Nathan shook his hand. “Nathan Price.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“He’s a playwright. He’s the one who wrote ‘The Binding Room,’” Otis said.
“Yeah … Yeah, yeah. I saw that. That was really good, man.”
“Thanks,” Nathan said.
“You going to come out with anything new?”
“Well...”
“He already has. ‘The Longest Evening Ever,’” Otis continued. “I saw it the other night. Really good.”
Emory blinked and looked at them. “Oh. Alright. I have to check it out. Well, I’d better get back to work. Nice meeting you Nathan.”
“You too.”
“I’ll see you later, Otis.”
“Alright.”
“Okay, what the fuck was that about?” Nathan laughed after Emory left.
“You don’t even want me to get started,” Otis said.
****
Kamon knocked on the bedroom door. “Yo, y’all up? Yo.”
LaVonte moved around in bed. “Damn nigga, what the fuck you want?”
“I wanna know if you up?”
“I am now,” LaVonte growled.
“I gotta talk with Tonio,” he called through the door.
Antonio shifted in the bed. “Man, go ‘way.”
“Nah man, I gotta talk to you.”
“Go ‘way, nigga! Please.” He put the pillow over his head and scooted under LaVonte.
“We got a phone call.”
“I ain’t on it right now.”
“It’s important.”
Antonio didn’t answer.
“Nigga you gotta git up. This is big.”
LaVonte turned to Antonio and lifted the pillow from his face. “Sounds important. You know you wouldn’t want to miss out,” he said facetiously.
Antonio blew a sharp breath and got up, pulling on his shorts and headed for the bathroom.
That was the agreement Antonio and Kamon had, that they would include each other in their jobs whenever two dicks were requested. They made that agreement when the two of them discovered their shared occupation, not long after LaVonte introduced them to each other.
That was almost three years ago when Antonio and LaVonte first met while working at Corso’s.
It had taken only a week for Antonio to find a job after he arrived in New York City, but that wasn’t unusual for him because he’d never had problems finding a job. Maybe it was the distant sadness in his eyes that brought pity to employers, or maybe it was the air of sexuality that followed him. It was a vapor that seemed to affect women and men alike. Maybe it was the employer’s way of keeping him near so they could look at him and imagine things.
Either way, that's where Antonio met LaVonte. From their first meeting they hit it off, laughing and talking easily, and it was LaVonte who started showing him around the city.
In the beginning LaVonte didn’t tell Antonio that he was gay because the subject never came up. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when Antonio suggested they go looking for women that he told him. Antonio had looked at him in surprise, but only mildly so, and with a smile replied, “I can get into that ... sometimes.”
He told LaVonte about himself and from there they started hanging more often, with him finally meeting LaVonte's roommate, Kamon.
It took little time once Antonio met Kamon to know he had a partner in crime. The glint of a smile on Kamon’s face and eyes that seemed to always look for the next adventure told Antonio that Kamon was definitely someone who could relate. And from that day on the friendship between the three men was sold, a relationship that became more than just a friendship, but one that ventured well to simpatico.
All of this is what now pulled Antonio from bed.
Kamon and Antonio waited outside the Empire Sports Club in Chelsea. They shared a kabob as they watched people and cars go by.
“I could use some damn coffee, man,” Antonio said, looking across the street to a sidewalk café. He raised his head and looked at the late morning sun. “Shit.”
“He should be comin’ out soon.”
“Who is this muthafucka anyway?”
“He’s my dude. He always comes through big.”
Antonio continued watching the people at the cafe across the street. He knew he and Kamon looked out of place, two young black men coming down from Harlem to stand in front of a building in Chelsea with nothing to do. “Well dude better hurry, ‘cause I’m beginning to get salty.”
“Man, just be still. When this is over you gonna thank me. You gonna be like, ‘yo, this was it, man.’”
“Is that a promise?”
“More than a promise.”
Antonio grumbled something and took another piece of chicken from the skewer.
It was almost fifteen minutes before the man came out of the building. He was still dressed in his workout clothes and carried a gym bag with him. “Hey Kamon.”
“What’s up Adam? This my nigga, Antonio.”
Adam and Antonio exchanged greetings.
“Come on,” Adam said and the three of them started walking.
They walked a while talking about any and everything. To Antonio it all sounded like shit, and he wondered why the guy had them walking so far. But Kamon promised him something big so he went along.
By the time they stopped walking they were in The Village. Now things were beginning to look better.
“Come on in,” Adam said as he unlocked the door.
Antonio and Kamon stepped into a large loft. The first thing that came to Antonio’s mind was how this man could come across so much money. He looked around, then at Kamon, who walked ahead. It was clear he had been there before.
“You guys want some coffee or something?”
“Yeah,” Antonio spoke up.
“I didn’t recognize you when I came out of the gym,” Adam said to Kamon as he prepared the coffee. “I hadn’t seen you in a while.”
“Busy, man … You know how it is.” Kamon sat slouched back on the couch with his legs spread wide.
Once he had finished preparing the coffee, Adam came back to the living area. “I’m going to take a shower. The coffee should be ready in a bit. I’ve set some cups out. Make yourselves at home.”
“This place is tight,” Antonio said after Adam left. He turned from corner to corner of the large apartment.
Kamon nodded in agreement. “He’s definitely makin' some money.”
“What does he do?” He glanced down at a bowl on the coffee table that was filled with condoms.
“Shit, I don’t know. All these white boys down here got money. Part inheritance, part work, lotta connections. You ready for that coffee?” he asked as the coffeemaker beeped.
They went into the kitchen and filled their cups. Kamon noticed a small figurine on the counter. He slipped it in his pocket.
“You better be cool with that,” Antonio warned, but Kamon didn’t answer; he continued pouring his coffee and they went back to the living room.
Adam finished his shower and came to the door of the bathroom drying himself. Antonio turned a bit away.
“My collection’s grown since the last time you were here,” he said, pulling the towel over his body.
“I thought you would be buying music online instead of CD’s,” Kamon said.
“I do, but I still like to back it up on CD’s,” he said as he walked past them. “It’s like backing anything up, y’know.”
“Makes sense.”
“I’ll put something on. Check it out.” Adam began looking through some of his CD’s. “This is a mix. You know I’m always mixing,” he said, bending forward, his bare ass in full view of them.
Kamon looked at Antonio and gave a half grin. He scooped up a handful of condoms and walked over to where Adam stood with his back to him. “You still got that nice ass, I see,” Kamon said. He wet his finger and rubbed Adam’s asshole.
Adam stood up and faced him and mildly protested. “Kamon!”
Kamon palmed his ass as he pulled the man to him.
“Same ol’ Kamon, huh?” Adam chuckled.
“You know I like that ass,” Kamon said as he turned Adam back around. His hands spread his butt.
“Your friend…” Adam turned back to face him.
“What? You gon’ give him some too, ain’t you?”
“I...”
“Ain’t you?” Kamon repeated. He pecked Adam on the mouth.
“I thought you were just coming over for a visit.”
“I did, but I can still get a little ass, can’t I?” He whipped Adam around and bent him forward, then he squatted behind him, spreading the man’s ass once more. “Yo, Tonio. Look at that. Pink and tight,” he said as he inspected Adam’s asshole. He kissed the man’s ass cheeks and gently rubbed his finger around the man’s asshole, feeling the lube already there. “Mmm hmm,” he breathed as he stood and undid his belt. His belt buckle clanged as his pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. His dick was rock hard and Adam turned around on his knees and took it in his hand.
Antonio watched with growing anticipation as Adam’s mouth covered Kamon’s dick before pulling back, exposing the large plum colored head. “You gonna give me this ass?” Kamon now hissed softly.
“I ... I thought you were just coming over for coffee,” Adam declared as his breath quickened.
Kamon pushed his head back onto his dick and began fucking his mouth. He nodded to Antonio who had been sitting on the couch with his pants undone stroking his dick.
“Come on.” Kamon tapped the side of Adam’s head. They went into the kitchen.
Antonio dropped his pants and followed them to find Kamon had Adam’s ass up and was rubbing his dick around the rim of the man’s asshole. He grinned and looked at Antonio, who walked to the front of Adam, who was breathing hard, his face against the floor.
Naked, Antonio slid down in front of Adam, his back against the refrigerator, and opened his legs.
“Oh my God!” Adam gripped Antonio’s dick and inspected it. “It’s so black,” he gasped.
Grabbing Adam by the hair, Antonio lifted the man’s head and pushed his dick in his mouth and began moving with smooth undulations deep in the man’s throat.
Adam gagged and pulled back. “It’s too big. It’s too big. I thought you guys just wanted to visit,” he whined before Antonio pushed his dick back to his mouth, watching just the head move in and out past his lips.
“A champ, ain’t he?” Kamon grinned as he moved round in the man’s ass.
Antonio watched the man’s mouth. “A pro.”
Adam’s body convulsed and he let out a moan.
“Let me get summa that,” Antonio said, looking over at his partner.
Kamon gave one hard grind before he pulled out. “It’s good, man. I’m tellin’ you.”
Antonio went behind Adam and grabbed one of the condoms Kamon had tossed on the floor. He rolled it over his dick and slowly pushed in and up into the man’s ass, spreading his hole wide and causing the man to jump forward, exhaling a sharp cry.
“Where you goin’ man?” Antonio asked as he pulled the man’s hips back to him. “Where you goin’?”
Kamon had moved to the man’s mouth, pulling off the condom and taking over where Antonio left off, rubbing the man’s nipples between his thumb and finger as he moved deep in the man’s mouth.
Antonio continued digging deep into the man’s ass until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Breathing hard he started cumming. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he gasped.
The man moved his ass closer, taking it all.
Kamon grinned at the sight, then grabbed the man’s head with both hands and pumped until he came in his mouth.
When they were done, they washed themselves, joking and laughing at their accomplishment.
“Man, you guys are fucking crazy,” Adam grinned, standing still naked, holding his wallet. He slid several bills out and handed them to Kamon and Antonio. “You guys are mad crazy,” he repeated.
Kamon laughed. “Look, we outta here. You know how to get in touch with us.”
“Fuck yeah,” Adam laughed.
“And put some damn clothes on.”
Antonio called LaVonte. “Meet us at West Fourth and Sixth. Don’t worry, we got you. Just come on. And hurry up.”
“Nigga always got so many questions,” Kamon said. “That’s my cat, though.”
“Yup,” Antonio agreed.
LaVonte came up from the station and looked at them. Shaking his head, he idled up to them. “Ho’s.”
They laughed and walked down the street together.
That evening Antonio came home carrying several bags. “Hey Daddy,” he greeted as he came through the door.
Otis was watching TV. He turned to him. “Do I know you?”
Antonio laughed. “Man you act like I was gone for years or something.”
“Seems like it.” Otis looked at the bags. “What’s all that?”
“I got you something. Hold on.” Antonio went to his bedroom.
Otis followed him.
“Where did you get all this?”
Antonio looked at him like he was crazy and set the bags on the bed.
“Look, you gotta be careful out there,” Otis warned.
“I am.” He went through the bags, pulling out shirts and jeans, and a pair of shoes. His father solemnly watched him. Suddenly, he pulled out a shirt. “What’s this like? I got it for you. Yeahhh…” He held the shirt up to his father. “My pops gonna be tight!”
“Man I need to know how you got this,” Otis said. “It’s nice, really nice. And I appreciate the thought, but I wanna know how you got the money.”
Antonio lowered the shirt. “How did I get the money? I worked. Just like you. How do you get shit? ... I’m sorry.” He tossed the shirt onto the bed.
“You don’t make that kind of money at the restaurant. Antonio, you ain’t mixed up in anything are you?”
Silence.
“If it’s what I think it is, I thought we talked about that back in Cincinnati.”
“You want the shirt or what?”
Otis shook his head. “No. Because you won’t tell me how you got it. Antonio, I told you, you have to be careful out there.”
“I am. I just came across some dude who had some money and wanted to spread it around. I don’t know why you trippin’ so much, man.”
“What do you mean, ‘trippin’? You don’t think I have a right to disagree with what you’re doing?”
“You got a right, but it don’t mean I have to agree with you. Look, I’m alright. Everything’s cool. I know what I’m doin’.”
“You promised me, before we left...”
“Come on man, let’s not start that. I didn’t come up here for you to run my life. I’m grown.”
Antonio went back to his bags.
“You gotta know where to go,” Otis finally continued. “Who to be with. You can’t just be with anybody.”
“What…?” Antonio started, then looked quietly at his father.
Otis rubbed his jaw and went on. “Not midtown. You can fall too quick there. And The Village … just a buncha lost kids.”
“How you know I didn’t work overtime at the restaurant to get this?”
“You just said...”
“A man had some money he wanted to spread around. I know what I said. How you know I don’t mean in tips?”
“Don’t play me for stupid. Come on. Your friends ... are they in this too?”
Antonio sat on the bed with a pair of jeans hanging from his hands.
“Are they?”
“It’s just something we do every now and then.”
“I saw a lot of people go down out there in my day,” Otis said. “Murder, disease, and if they survived they ain’t nothing but half of who they used to be.” Otis shook his head. “Too stupid to know when to get out of the game. They believed what people told them about themselves. People who just wanted what they could get from them.”
“That ain’t me, though,” Antonio protested.
“Then what is it, Antonio?”
“Money. Stop talkin’ crazy.”
“We haven’t even talked about your mother since she’s been gone. What do you think...”
“Not now.”
“She may have done things differently, but you know she gave up a lot to protect you.”
“Can’t you respect where I’m comin’ from right now? I don’t wanna talk about her.”
Otis walked to the bedroom door. “I wanted you up here because I love you. You need to respect that.”
(Chapters 7-11 follows on next page)
She would have to die that way. Holding that damn bag in her hand. They said she had been sitting there for almost a week. Just sitting there with her eyes open, holding onto that damn bag.
They asked him if he wanted it, and he almost said no. But something wouldn’t let him get rid of it. Now it sat somewhere at the bottom of his suitcase - a bag containing his baby hair, nail clippings and three small pebbles that once was his feces, dried in the sun, now just small pebbles.
He looked at his father, who sat across from him swaying as the train rushed through the tunnels, a slight look of confusion crossing his eyes.
Antonio always knew he would meet his father one day because she had told him he would. Some nights she would sit by his bed and tell him stories about his father and that one day he would return. She never told him who his father was and where he had gone, but he guessed it was someplace where his father had no choice because if he was as good a man as his mother had said, he wouldn’t have left him in such a fucked up place. Maybe the house he grew up in wouldn’t have been so full of sadness and maybe the insanity that gripped his mother wouldn’t have happened.
Eventually, as the years passed and days wandered with no apparent end, he gave up ever seeing his father until a few years ago when his mother called him and told him his father had returned. And with that done, she closed herself back into the darkness of the small house - her life complete - while he moved away with the man he waited so long for. Now she was gone and he was living with the man who appeared before him every night just before he went off to sleep.
The train pulled into the Atlantic Avenue station and he and his father got off. They had gone back to Cincinnati to attend his mother's funeral. It had been a small gathering of people at the funeral, but it was complete. Very clear, very said-and-done because anything anyone ever thought about his mother had been set. She lived with abandon and she died alone.
After they put his mother in the ground he and his father collected a few photos and the small bag, and they returned to New York City.
They walked through the train station and made their way out into the busy daylight of Brooklyn and walked the few blocks to their apartment. Neither one of them had spoken much about the old woman because it was so hard to put her life in words, and even more difficult was putting all their lives together in one salient thought.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” his father said. “Let’s stop off and pick something up.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You sure? You haven’t eaten anything all day.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. You go ahead.”
His father looked at him for a second. “Alright, I’ll be home in a little bit.”
“Okay.” He walked away without looking back at his father, yet he could feel his father’s eyes on him. It had been that way since he moved in with him. His father was always watching him.
Antonio lugged his suitcase up the four flights to the apartment and went inside. He had told the guy he would meet him around seven, so he rushed back out to catch the train over to Union Square.
Sitting on a bench, he watched people passing by. He wondered how so many of them could have so much to smile about. He didn’t hate them for it, he only wondered.
A man fitting the description of the man he was waiting for walked close to the bench, causing Antonio to sit up straight, but it wasn’t him. The man gave a curious glance and continued across the street.
Eventually, another man came towards the bench. Antonio watched him as he approached. Five-eleven; dark curly hair; jeans and green and yellow tennis shoes. He couldn’t see if his eyes were hazel since the man was too far away.
As the man approached he caught sight of Antonio, then, slowing, he came up to the bench. “Antonio?”
Antonio stood up. “Yeah.”
The man smiled. “Julian.”
The two of them walked across the park and down a street.
An hour later, Antonio stood at the bathroom sink, washing himself. The man came in and stood beside him. “God…” He smiled as he watched Antonio’s dick.
Antonio grinned. “You make a lot of noise. You know that?”
“I’m just glad my roommate wasn’t here.”
“What’s he about?”
“It’s a she.”
“What’s she about?”
“Everything. Like me.”
“So y’all cool like that? She gay?”
“Not really. She does the lesbian thing every once in a while, but not really.”
“Think she would be into me?”
Julian laughed. “God yeah,” he said as he palmed Antonio’s dick. “Hell yeah.”
“Maybe next time.”
After he got dressed, the man gave him the other half of the money.
“Thanks,” Antonio said.
“No. Thank you,” Julian replied as he leaned up to kiss Antonio.
Antonio pulled back, “Nah, I don’t do that.”
Julian shrunk away. “Okay.”
“You got my number. Call me when you feel like it.”
“I will.”
Leaving Union Square, he headed uptown and got off on 135th Street, then walked a few blocks over to the apartment of two friends: LaVonte and Kamon. He rang the buzzer, announced himself and walked up to the apartment.
“What’s up nigga? Where’s yo’ key?” Kamon greeted as he let Antonio in.
“I left it at home.”
“So how was it?” Kamon asked.
“It was a’ight.”
“Nigga pay money though, don’t he?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Told you. How much he give you?”
“Nigga you act like you my pimp or some shit.”
Kamon looked at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “A'ight, a'ight. Come on, let's head out,” he said as he slapped Antonio's back.
They headed back down to 34th Street where LaVonte was waiting nearby for them in Herald Square. He sat with his face away from them watching the streets.
Kamon and Antonio nudged each other and crept up beside him.
Grinning, Kamon leaned down. “Whatchou doin’, bitch?” he demanded.
LaVonte jumped up, his crippled legs almost causing him to fall backwards. Antonio and Kamon howled at how frightened he was.
“Damn, man!” he exclaimed. “Don’t be doin’ no shit like that!”
Kamon and Antonio continued to laugh.
“Where the fuck you been?” LaVonte asked as he held onto the bench to steady himself. “I been waitin’ here almost half an hour.”
“Stop whining. We got all night.”
“No we don’t. Me and Tonio gotta get up for work tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Antonio agreed. “So let’s get goin’.”
The three of them walked back over to 34th Street with Antonio and Kamon pacing themselves so LaVonte could keep up. They grabbed a bite to eat.
The night was warm and sticky.
Antonio sat eating a slice of pizza and watched the rush and flow of midtown. Even after almost three years, the constant movement of people, cars and lights still amazed him. Taking one last draw from his cola, he stood. “Let’s go. We got a lot to do.” And the three young men headed out into the night.
CHAPTER 2
Otis sat out on the dock and finished lunch with some of his co-workers. The dampness and the summer heat rested on the city like a sleeping animal and made it difficult to breathe. “Okay, why are we sittin' out here when we could be in air conditioning?” He asked.
“Just let me finish my cigarette,” Linda said.
“It's hot as fuck out here and you got us out here sittin' in all this heat while you smoke a damn cigarette.” Steven bucked his eyes as he leaned towards her.
“Look, I gotta have a cigarette after I eat. It's the way I do things.”
“Shit. Well do it by yourself, lady,” Luis said. “I'm goin' in.”
The others agreed and got up to go back into the warehouse.
Otis' phone rang and he answered. It was Emory.
“Hey, you still with the others?”
“Yeah.”
“Well don't say my name. I just wanted to catch you before you went back from your lunch break.”
“Yeah, it is about that time.”
“We still meeting up for dinner this evening?”
“Still on.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the restaurant. I have to stay a little bit late and get some things done here.”
“Alright.”
“But I'll meet you there.”
“Alright.” Otis hung up and shook his head as he walked back into the warehouse.
After work Otis was just about to go down into the subway when he saw Emory coming his way.
“Ready to go,” Emory said, smiling and rubbing his hands together.
“That was quick. I thought you were staying late?”
“I had to make it quick so I could spend time with you,” Emory said. He looked around. “Come on.” He hurried Otis down the stairs to the station.
“So… How is it going with you and your son?” Emory asked. They were seated near the back of the restaurant because Emory said it always felt as if he were on display when he sat near the window.
“Okay,” Otis said. “We got a few kinks to work out but it’s okay. He seems to be settled. Made some friends.”
“That’s good. This isn’t a place to make quick friends. I guess he’s an extrovert like his ol’ man, huh?”
“I guess you can say that. I’m still getting to know him.”
“After three years?”
“Yeah. He don't like to tell me things. Keeps a lot inside.”
“He's not in any trouble is he?”
“No. He just likes to keep some space for himself.”
“Like you.”
Otis laughed. “I guess so.”
Emory shook his head, “Man. That must be something. All those years and you find out you have a kid.”
“Yeah, it caught me off guard.”
“And a son. And you being… you know.”
Otis looked pathetically at Emory.
“Well, you know what I mean. So how is he handling it?” Emory glanced at the table nearby where a group of people sat.
“Fine. You seem to be making more of a deal of it than him,” Otis laughed.
Emory sat back. “Well, it is kinda different, you know.”
“Not really. A lot of gay folks have kids. Especially black gays.”
Cutting his eyes to the table on the other side, Emory picked up his glass and took a swallow. “Still…”
“For real man, it’s okay.”
“Well at least he seems to have his head together.”
“He’s young. Got some shit he’s dealing with. But yeah, he’ll be okay.”
After dinner the two of them went to a bar at Emory’s urging. Otis knew what was up but he went along anyway. They sat at the end of the bar, away from the other patrons.
“You know, I’m glad you came back,” Emory said. “For a while there I thought, ‘shit, he’s home now. Probably gonna stay there.’ And I was resigned to that.”
Otis sipped his drink then set it on the bar. “Nah. Cincinnati’s not home anymore. I got a lot of love for it, but it can never be home again.”
“Too many memories, huh.”
“It’s just not home. It was the place for me when I was a boy, but not as a man.”
“I can understand that. All the shit you went through,” Emory said as he put his glass to his mouth and took a drink. “How was it seeing all those people again after, what, twenty years?”
“A little more than that,” Otis said. “It was strange more than anything. At first I was nervous. I was like, ‘what the fuck am I supposed to do? After all those years, what the fuck am I supposed to do?’ But I knew we had to talk. All of us.”
“Yeah,” Emory said as he nodded his head. He paused a bit before continuing. “What about your friend? How did you feel when you saw him? I bet a lot of old feelings surfaced, huh.”
“A little. But shit, all that went away once we started hashing things out.”
“I thought he might win you over again,” Emory said as he stirred his drink. “End up keeping you there with him.”
Otis shook his head. “Uh uh.”
“Well I’m glad you came back,” Emory said. He looked deep into Otis's eyes before glancing at the table near them, then away.
They walked to the train station. Otis was just about to start down the stairs when Emory stopped him.
“Are you glad you came back?”
Otis looked at him for a quick second before answering, “Yeah. This city was the only place that would take me. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before turning back down the stairs.
Otis called out to Antonio as he came through the door that evening. There was no reply, so he went to his son’s bedroom and knocked on the door. “Antonio, you up?” Still there was no reply. He opened the door and saw he hadn’t come in yet. He closed the door back and went in to take a shower.
Standing under the spray he let the water roll over him. He told Emory his son had some things to work out, but he didn’t tell the whole story.
He thought about his son selling his body. He remembered how he found out. It had been during an argument at the house of a man who owed Antonio money. At first Otis was confused as he stood in the middle of the fight. He heard the man and Antonio yelling at each other, but the meaning of their words wasn’t clear. It wasn’t until after a few seconds that his head cleared and the words sank in. The man said, “I gave you what I always give you,” and “You didn’t do any more than you usually do,” and it was the look on the man’s face as he made the statements that hit home because it was a face Otis had seen many times. It was clear. The life Otis had struggled so hard to leave behind had found the son he never knew. He and Antonio talked about what happened that night and it was during that conversation that Otis told him he was gay.
Antonio had looked down at the ground after his father told him, and a wry smile crossed his face. To him it was nothing more than another slice of irony. He and his father both fucked men and that’s all there was to it. He was used to having unusual things in his life.
Otis had asked Antonio if he was gay and Antonio told him he wasn't. He said hustling was just something he did. But he said it was okay that Otis was gay. Before they left for New York, Antonio promised Otis he would get out of the life, but sometimes Otis wondered if he really had.
For Otis, hustling had been about survival. After prison he found himself in New York City, too ashamed to return home. But making it in The Apple was hard, especially for a black ex-con. After landing there, he spent the first few weeks sitting in his room at the Y looking through want ads and looking for work. Finally, after running out of the few dollars he had managed to save, and after losing his room, he ended up on the streets.
But there was one thing he had figured out once he hit the city, and that was: even though it was hard for an ex-con to find a job, a young black man with a hard body and big dick could make money. And the fact that he was ruggedly handsome made it easy for him to get over just to buy food and time until he got on his feet. That was what he knew happened to him many years ago.
But he couldn't understand why his son had gotten into the game.
Sometimes he found himself studying Antonio, trying to glean what he could about the stranger who was his son, but it was difficult because Antonio moved in such furtive ways, as if he knew that if he were discovered he might lose something. But what, Otis couldn’t figure it out.
Later that night he heard Antonio come in. Otis sat in bed reading a book. Antonio knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
“Hey,” Antonio greeted as he stepped into the room.
“You just getting in?”
“Yeah. I worked a double shift, so I helped ‘em close up.”
“There’s some dinner in the oven.”
“Okay. I’ll have it for breakfast. I’ve been eatin’ all day.”
Antonio started to close the door.
“Antonio.”
“Yeah.”
“Man, don’t work so hard. Everything is fine.”
“Okay,” Antonio said, and closed the door.
****
The knock at the door was sudden, breaking the silence of the house and causing the boy to jump up, knocking over his toys. It came again, loud and threatening. The boy felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stood in the middle of the room looking around for his mother, but she wasn’t there. Quickly he gathered up his toys and any trace he might leave behind and quietly went to his room. It was what he had been taught to do. He slid beneath his bed and down onto the floor where he continued to crawl until he came to the house underground. Once there, he tucked his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth, waiting for his mother to return.
The sun crept through the window and beyond the curtains, waking Antonio from a heavy sleep. Morning had come too soon. He turned in bed, pushing what was left of the dream from his head.
As the dream faded, his thoughts moved to his mother. It didn’t seem as if she had died. At times he could still feel her standing near and he could smell her fragrance, a scent that always reminded him of the sweet peas she always cooked. He didn’t deny that she had passed on, but there simply was no sense of loss and he knew why: because she wasn’t gone. She would never leave.
In his mind he saw the house they had lived in. It was dark because his mother always kept it in shadows. The curtains were always drawn. He remembered sometimes standing in front of the windows, listening to the world outside - the sound of cars rolling by, the laughter of children - and he would imagine what the world looked like. He wondered how the cars looked and how the laughter looked on the faces of the children, but he was afraid to look through the blinds. He had learned not to.
One day, he heard someone playing a radio. The music that came from it was different, like someone talking in rhymes over jagged rhythms. It was something he’d never heard before. Walking to the window, he lowered one of the slats of the dusty old blinds and peered out. His mother had been in the kitchen doing laundry, and when she saw him looking out the window, she yelled and rushed into the room where she snatched him away and beat him. He remembered how, with each blow, she screamed that they would never take him from her.
Rolling to his feet, Antonio went to the bathroom and began to get ready for work.
CHAPTER 3
Otis finished picking up a few things for himself and Antonio. Capn’ Crunch. There was a time he never would've bought anything like that. So many things had changed since Antonio moved in with him: sharing duties around the house, cooking for two, picking up after his son and just knowing that there was someone else, another breath in the room down the hall when he slept. It had been a long time since someone else shared his space and he didn't want to lose that.
But he wasn’t sure where to go next with Antonio. He had missed watching him grow up, had missed out on those years when he was supposed to have seen him become a man, of dreaming that one day he might be an engineer or a doctor. Those days were gone and he hadn’t been around. Antonio was already a man when their paths crossed. How do you raise a man?
Otis put the groceries on the counter. “What’s up Manny?” he said.
“Ah nothin’. Just doin’ my thing ‘til I get off from work.”
“Then what?”
“Home to the wife and kids, then to bed.”
“That’s good to hear.” He knew the problems Manny had in the past with drugs.
“Yeah, that’s it now. I don’t do nothin’ out there no more,” Manny went on. “My cousin, he come around sometime and, ‘hey Manny, let’s go here, and let’s go there’ and I tell him, ‘nah cuz, I ain’t into that no more.’” He put the last of the items in the bag. “Know what I mean?”
“Believe me, I do. Not much out there to grow old on.”
“Nah, sure ain’t. And I do wanna grow old.”
“You will, m’man,” Otis said as he picked up the bag. “See you later.”
When he got to his street, Otis looked up at his apartment. The windows were dark. He had hoped Antonio would have made it home, but just like so many other nights, he hadn’t.
Otis walked in and put the groceries away. Then he turned the lights back out and went into the living room where he sat in his chair and disappeared into the darkness of his apartment and the darkness of his thoughts.
CHAPTER 4
The lunch crowd at Corso's had settled in and Antonio moved about his station, filling glasses and removing dishes. People sat out front talking over their meals under a white afternoon sun. Hurrying in and out of the restaurant, he watched the patrons and the busy streets. Movement, light, and sound. He enjoyed it more than anyone could imagine because he had been denied it for much of his life.
As a boy, he used to draw what he envisioned went on beyond the closed blinds and the drawn curtains. Bits and pieces of life outside his mother’s house were all he saw and that was during the ride to and from school in his mother’s car. He would wonder how it felt to run in circles like he saw the kids do at school and he would imitate them at home in his
bedroom, running and running in little circles with his arms out, just like the kids who never invited him to join them. He would run, and run in circles until he fell from exhaustion.
Butloneliness was nothing compared to the disruption he knew would occur if he let anyone into his world. That if he did open the door, or if he dared to open the blinds, they would come and take him from her and she was all he knew that was sure in life.
He went back to the kitchen carrying a tub of dirty dishes. “Comin’ through,” he called out as he pushed past his co-workers. They were standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Hey Southern, ain’t that Marcus Bond?” Chris asked Antonio. He always called Antonio ‘Southern’ because he said it sounded like he had come from the dirty south. Antonio didn’t mind because he kind of liked the name.
“Who?”
“Marcus Bond,” LaVonte said.
“Who’s that?”
The other guys gawked.
“Who’s that?” Chris remarked. “Tell your boy who Marcus Bond is,” he said, stepping back in awe.
“Who’s that?” someone else mocked.
“The record producer,” LaVonte said.
“And movie producer,” someone else said.
“He owns On Marc Productions,” LaVonte explained.
Antonio looked back out the door back to the table. “Damn,” he whispered.
Now, with a little schooling, Antonio coolly walked past the table where the man sat. He heard the server mention the man’s last name. It was definitely Marcus Bond.
Even though he didn’t know much about the man, what he had learned was enough to tell him to keep his eyes on the man’s table where he sat with two other men and a woman.
On his way back to the kitchen, Antonio passed the table and as he did so he felt someone grab his arm.
“What are you going to do now that you’ve met me?”
Antonio looked down at the man. “Huh?”
The other people at his table laughed.
“Marcus let him go,” the woman admonished between her laughter.
“I see you keep looking over here, so here I am. Now, you’ve met me.”
“Yeah,” Antonio whispered.
“I’m just kidding you man.” He stuck out his hand and Antonio shook it.
Antonio laughed, exhaling relief.
“I saw you and your boys looking over here. Tell ‘em, yeah, it’s me. And not right now if they have a demo on them. If they got something, they can contact me. Here.” He handed Antonio a card.
“Thanks,” Antonio said. “I’ll tell them.” He looked around the table at the smiling faces. “Thanks,” he repeated and hurried back to the kitchen.
“Man, I can’t believe we saw Marcus Bond, man,” Chris said.
Antonio and his co-workers sat in back eating their dinner after setting up for the evening guests.
“I know, and you shoulda seen your ass jumping up and down when Tonio gave you his card,” LaVonte laughed.
“That shit was crazy. I was like, whoa! What the fuck!”
“I thought your ass was gonna pass out,” Antonio said as he slapped Chris on the back.
Chris hit knuckles with Antonio. “Yo, you did it, Southern. I gotta hand it to you.”
“You gonna use it?”
“Fuck yeah. I’m gonna be like the first Asian-American rapper to blow up on the scene. I even got a name for myself. Tao.”
“What?” LaVonte asked.
“Tao. You know, the way. The path. Y’all need to get it together if y’all gonna work for me.”
“Aw nigga…” Antonio said as they all laughed.
After work Antonio and LaVonte walked through The Village and down to the piers where they sat and looked out over the Hudson. The sun moved behind the city, bringing with it night. Along the waterfront, the lights from the shore and the lights from boats danced on the water.
“I ain’t had a chance to talk to you about ... you know ... your moms. How’re you doin?” LaVonte asked.
“I’m alright, I guess. It don’t even seem like she’s gone.”
LaVonte looked at him. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I can’t imagine what I would do without my moms, so I know how you must feel.” He rubbed Antonio’s shoulder.
“But I’m alright,” Antonio said as he bobbed his head.
“How’s your pops holdin’ up?”
“He’s cool. They wasn’t never married or nothin'.”
“Don’t matter.”
“They wasn’t even in love,” Antonio said quietly.
“You takin’ all this shit mighty easy, man,” LaVonte said as he looked back out across the water.
“Might as well. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.”
LaVonte continued to stare ahead. Finally he spoke. “Your pops is pretty cool.”
“He is.” Then Antonio looked askance at his buddy. “You think he’s hot,” he grinned.
LaVonte blushed.
“I can tell the way you acted when you saw him. All jittery and shit.” Antonio jiggled his body, then slapped LaVonte on the back.
“Yo! He is, though,” LaVonte exclaimed. “Man, your father is fuckin’ hot.”
They laughed.
“So you must think I’m alright, huh?” Antonio sniffed confidently. “People say me and him look a lot alike.” He looked at his friend, his head cocked with arrogance.
“You alright. Too skinny though.”
“Man fuck you,” Antonio laughed. “C’mon. Let’s get somethin’ to drink.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Imma let my ol’ man know I ain’t gonna be in for a while.”
“A’ight.”
“Who knows,” Antonio said as he dialed the phone, “Maybe you and me might even kick it later on.”
“Who knows?” LaVonte replied as they walked back into The Village.
****
The call came but Otis didn’t hear it. He had put his phone on silent before going into the abandoned building and now he walked out of the building and down the dark alley.
CHAPTER 5
People came towards Otis, but no one spoke to him. That was because no one knew him.
Twenty-nine years in the same city and only a few people could say they really knew him, and he was the reason for that. He had learned to keep people at arm's length because he knew all they wanted to do was to take what they could from you and if they couldn't then they would destroy you. He knew this because so much had been taken from him and he swore it wouldn’t happen again.
He arrived at a flea market. He avoided the one in Chelsea because he didn’t want to run into Emory and hear all the whining. He knew Emory wanted them to be together, but he knew it wouldn’t work and he had told him that. So now every time he saw Emory he had to look into his longing eyes and listen to the constant whine in his voice. But not today.
The market was busy that Saturday afternoon. People spread out along the lot migrating from vendor to vendor under a distant pearl colored sky. He didn’t know what he was looking for, just something unique to buy. Owning unique things gave him something to look at in the lonely space of his apartment since Antonio was rarely there.
He moved along the tables and the stands, searching for something to buy. No more African pieces unless they were unique; something original he could afford. Vendors hawked to him, and he waved them away.
Finally he came to a stand where an elderly woman sat. With her aquiline nose and deep set eyes he could tell she was Eastern European. She had a table filled with scarves, shawls and blankets. Otis looked at the colorful pieces of fabric. He appreciated the designs woven into them and figured they were from her homeland. A nice hanging with a display light overhead would be cool, he thought. He chose the one he wanted, a large red one with blue, yellow, green and purple colors marching through it, and paid the woman, who thanked him through her brown, well-worn teeth.
He walked away from the stand, admiring the cloth, when someone called him. He looked among the crowd and saw a man at one of the stands motioning to him. Something about the man looked familiar: average height but wiry. He had a beard and wire-rimmed glasses.
Otis walked through the lot towards the man, and as he came upon him, he broke into a grin. The man's name was Nathan and he was one of the few people Otis had gotten to know when he first arrived in the city.
Nathan came from behind his stand, and he and Otis hugged each other and held onto each other for a while.
“I thought that was you,” Nathan said. “I was like, is that? And then as you got closer, I was like, yeah. Hell, yeah. Man you ain’t changed a bit.”
“Now you know that’s a lie,” Otis said as he rubbed the flecks of gray in his hair.
“Shit that ain't nothing. Look at me. Come on.” Nathan led him back to the stand. “I don’t wanna be too far from my stuff.”
“You’re lookin’ good, man,” Otis complimented as Nathan walked back behind his stand. He hadn’t seen him in almost twenty-nine years. The two of them shared a floor at the Y. Nathan had just arrived in town only a week before Otis. With pen in hand and dreams of becoming a writer, he had landed feet first from Norfolk.
Both of them green to the city, the two men had developed a dependence on each other, passing along tips about jobs and apartment vacancies. The dependence eventually turned into a friendship. But when Otis was evicted from the Y, they lost touch.
“I’m wearin’ glasses now,” Nathan said, as he adjusted the large frames on his slim face. “That's a sign, huh?”
“I need ‘em too.”
“What, you're too vain to wear them? Shit, not me.”
“Nah, it ain’t like that. Just too lazy to go to the doctor. So how’s it been? Man!” Otis exclaimed, shaking his head, “It’s been years.”
“Yep. I’ve been doin’ okay. Writing and selling.”
“That’s good.”
“You know that’s my life.”
“Still writing plays? Or books?”
“Plays. Got my fourth one to the stage now and one on the way. Other than that I’m doing alright. Got a few other things on the side, but I’m alright. What about you?”
“Working. Been on the same job for going on sixteen years.”
“Cool. What do you do?”
“I work in the warehouse at LifeCom.”
“Oh, so you can get me free cable,” Nathan joked.
“Shit, I can’t even get free cable. Discounted, but not free.”
“Discount’ll work,” Nathan laughed.
“Where you living?”
“A Hundred Twenty-Sixth and Eighth. How ‘bout you?
“Brooklyn.” He looked around the stand. “This yours?”
“Black Vintage. That’s the name of my shop. I do the flea market thing sometime, you know, tryin’ to spread my name around.”
“That sounds like you.” Otis picked up an old copy of Tan magazine. Dorothy Dandridge and Harry Belafonte clung to each other on the cover.
“You should come by and check it out. One Hundred Twenty-Third and Malcolm.” He waved Otis behind the stand. “Come on, sit with me.”
“Yeah. I’m gonna have to do that,” Otis said, setting the magazine down.
“So tell me, what’s been going on? How’s it been going with you?”
Otis laughed. “Man, you wouldn’t believe…”
“It’s been like that?”
“Just like that.”
A woman came to the stand and began looking at a brown cloche hat with a purple ribbon around it.
“Hold on.” Nathan went to the woman.
Otis watched him talking to the woman. Nathan, with his back to him, looked the same as he did years ago: small, wiry and with that little knot of an ass. Otis remembered kissing that small knot of an ass one night in Nathan’s room as Nathan lay on his stomach waiting for Otis to enter him. 1981 was a while ago, but Otis still warmed inside thinking how quiet they were that night; not because they were afraid of being found out and evicted from their rooms at the Young Men’s Christian Association; they were quiet because they were in one space, with one mind, knowing that each one depended on the other. Trust and respect. He remembered how they had moved slow and in concert with each other as they made love that evening, and how he held Nathan’s hands in his and kissed him along his back and shoulders.
Nathan thanked the woman and folded the money in his pocket. He sat back down beside Otis. “So what happened back then? I remember I knocked on your door one day and they told me you were gone.”
“I couldn’t pay my rent so I had to go.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Anywhere and everywhere, man.”
He told Nathan how he had lived in the streets. It was a time when days were long and nights were short. When he slept holed up in doorways or in parks, sleeping with one eye open in case he had to fight off crazies, rats or thugs. When sometimes the endless walking caused his feet to swell and hurt so bad that all he could do was sit and watch the world watch him. And how, on some winter nights, he traded the streets for a man’s bedroom just to keep warm. A naked stranger holding another naked stranger in his arms for one night in a comfortable bed, two nights when things went right.
Sometimes when he was by himself sitting in a forgotten building, he would cry into his coat, using the dirty wool to muffle the sound that rose from his throat. His cries, coming out as a coarse wail, would remind him how human he was. He didn’t tell Nathan that part. But it was the cries that saved him because they reminded him that he had something to recall and those memories, the joy and pain of loss, are what sustained him. He knew the day he stopped crying was the day he would forget who he was.
Nathan reached over and gently shook his shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that. But you know? You made it through, man. Some people don’t, but you did.” He sat back suddenly. “Know what? This calls for a celebration. Survival. We both made it through in this town without being eaten alive. Meet me back here at five. You can help me break all this down and we can go and celebrate. Cool?”
“Cool. I’ll be back.”
“What did you think?” Nathan asked as they walked along the street that night.
“I didn’t know we were going to see your play man. It was good. Risky though.”
“Yeah, I know,” Nathan grinned. “But it was the boy who was after the man,” he said, raising a finger.
“That’s true, but it was still a risky subject. The audience seemed to accept it though.”
“But what did you think? I mean, you were there when I started all this.”
Otis nodded. “Yep.”
“So what did you think?”
“I liked it. I liked it a lot because you took us where we’re not used to going.”
“And it was legit. That’s the thing. I wanted to make sure the audience knew this wasn’t some made up shit. It’s real life. We were gay before we even knew we were gay. That’s what I wanted to show.”
“You’re right about that,” Otis agreed. “I know I was.” He looked at some of the young men passing by them on the street and Antonio crossed his mind.
“Me too,” Nathan continued. “People think, like ‘hey when did you become gay?’ and I’m always like, ‘when did you become straight?’ like I made some sudden transformation. Hell, I was a gay boy so of course I was gonna be a gay man.”
“I see you still think too much.”
Nathan laughed as they continued down the street.
“So you found out you have a son,” Nathan said.
“Yeah man. That was crazy. Going back home after all those years and finding out you got a little junior waiting there for you.”
They walked into a lounge, got a table and ordered drinks.
“Mmm, man that must be a trip to go so long not knowing you have a seed walking around. How’d you find out?”
“His mama told me. She was like, ‘I want you to check in on my son. I think he needs your help.’ At first I didn’t get it. I thought she just trusted me to school her son. Thought maybe he was gay and since she knew I am…but then, when I saw the picture of him and I was like ‘damn’. And then it all came back. One night, you know how that goes. And she never told me.”
“I wonder why?”
“I don’t know…Yes I do. I know. It was me. I disappeared off the scene and she just never told me.”
“You’d think she would’ve at least hunted your family down and told them.”
“Right. You’d think.” He watched the server put their drinks on the table.
“Is he gay?”
“Nah, nah.”
“How does he take to you?”
“We’re cool. This is the twenty-first century. Things have changed since our days, man.”
“Yeah.”
Otis thought about his answer to Nathan’s question as he walked to the station. He really didn’t know if Antonio was gay. He didn’t even know if Antonio was sure. What can you say about someone who spends so much time with gay men? And the sex. Antonio told him he did it just for the money, but he wondered if it was more than that.
His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. He answered it.
“What’s up, Emory?”
“Nothing. What’s up with you?”
“Just ‘bout to head on home.”
“Where are you?”
“Harlem.”
“Why are you up there?”
“What?”
“Nothing. You want to have a drink?”
“Nah man. I’m pooped. I’m gonna call it a night.”
“You gotta pass this way to get home anyway.”
“Yeah, but I don’t wanna get off.”
“It’s just...”
“Come on, Emory, man. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”
“Okay, don’t get so defensive.”
“I’m not. I just want to go on home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“We can do dinner. Shit, I forgot I have to attend a meeting.”
“Maybe another time for dinner then,” Otis suggested, trying to end the conversation.
“No. I can meet you after the meeting,” Emory persisted.
“Let’s play it by ear.”
“Alright.”
The roar of a train approaching the station came up from the tunnel.
“Gotta go. I think my train's comin'.”
“Tomorrow.”
“Right.” Otis ended the call and hurried down into the station.
CHAPTER 6
The anchor woman’s voice seemed to come from the sunrise outside the window just behind the TV. Otis picked at his breakfast, moving the eggs from one side of his plate to the other as he watched the news. It had been two days since Antonio had been home. He called the first night to let Otis know he wouldn’t be coming home and then the next day from his job, just to check in. He said he was staying with a friend, someone named LaVonte, whom he said Otis had met, though Otis couldn’t recall him. The next evening he called again to let Otis know he would be staying with him another night.
His voice sounded okay. In fact, he sounded happy. But two days was too long and two days of not knowing what was going on with his son was more than enough for Otis.
What he had learned about Antonio back in Cincinnati was still on his mind. Trade. A hustler... prostitute. It was strange enough seeing this person who had lived secretly as his son, but to find out he was a hustler just as he himself had been when he was younger was even more disturbing.
Maybe it was time he told Antonio about his years as a hustler. But how would he tell it? Where would he begin and how much would he tell? He knew he would tell him about the long nights working the streets and bars, the electric nights that only led to lonely sunrises. He would tell him how it felt to be anonymous with no one caring to know who you are, only what you offered. He would warn of the violence that gathered like clouds when night fell. But most of all he would tell him about the disease and death that followed one step behind you, so close that sometimes you could smell it. And he would tell him how no one would miss you if you slipped up because there would always be someone else with a dick just as large, a body just as hard and an ass just as tight, someone younger and tougher to replace you.
Otis washed the dishes after the news went off, relieved that the young man found in a car with a bullet through his head hadn’t been his son, yet angry that it happened at all.
He went into the bathroom and got ready to meet Nathan. He would wait for the next call from his son; at least Antonio granted him that much respect.
Otis stood in front of the museum and watched the people go in. They talked in hushed tones and in measured words as they moved up the steps.
He looked around to see if Nathan had arrived. He didn’t see him so he waited a while longer until the glances of the other patrons prompted him to go inside.
He didn’t want to go in too far because he figured Nathan would be coming soon, so he stopped across from a room where a lecture on the exhibit was being held.
Outside the door to the lecture room, a small coterie of men with serious expressions greeted the attendants and handed out programs. He figured they were members of ‘The Sons of Amistad,’ the group hosting the exhibit. They stood together with a sense of fraternity. Then, one of the greeters caught Otis’ eye. It was Emory.
Otis walked over to where Emory and his members stood and greeted him, but Emory looked at him and took a slight step back.
“What’s up, brotha?” Emory returned in a cursory manner. He reached out his hand. “How’s it going?” he continued as he shook Otis’ hand.
Otis looked at him, bewildered.
“Have you been through the exhibit? You should do that before coming into the lecture. It’ll start again at the top of the hour. Here’s a program.”
“Alright. Thanks,” Otis said as he took the program. “I’ll do that.”
“Cool. See you inside.” And with that, Emory went on greeting the other attendees.
Otis went back to the entrance and waited for Nathan but he couldn’t stop watching Emory. He wondered if Emory would at least look his way if for no reason other than to acknowledge him, but he didn’t.
It wasn’t long before Nathan arrived. “How long have you been here?” he asked as he walked up to Otis.
“Not too long. ‘Bout fifteen minutes.”
“Ready to go in?”
“Yeah,” Otis said. He looked quickly at Emory before going into the exhibit.
The exhibit centered around maritime Africa and Abu Bakari, the Voyager King of Mali. They walked through the rooms and studied the artifacts. Later, as they studied maritime maps of some of the voyages, he noticed that Emory stood a few feet from them talking to a group of visitors. Otis looked away and continued on with Nathan.
Suddenly Emory spotted them. He excused himself and came over.
“It’s a nice exhibit, isn’t it?”
Nathan turned to him. “Yeah, it is.”
“Yeah,” Otis nodded. “I didn’t know you were part of The Sons of Amistad.”
“Emory Minnefield,” Emory said as he introduced himself to Nathan.
Nathan shook his hand. “Nathan Price.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“He’s a playwright. He’s the one who wrote ‘The Binding Room,’” Otis said.
“Yeah … Yeah, yeah. I saw that. That was really good, man.”
“Thanks,” Nathan said.
“You going to come out with anything new?”
“Well...”
“He already has. ‘The Longest Evening Ever,’” Otis continued. “I saw it the other night. Really good.”
Emory blinked and looked at them. “Oh. Alright. I have to check it out. Well, I’d better get back to work. Nice meeting you Nathan.”
“You too.”
“I’ll see you later, Otis.”
“Alright.”
“Okay, what the fuck was that about?” Nathan laughed after Emory left.
“You don’t even want me to get started,” Otis said.
****
Kamon knocked on the bedroom door. “Yo, y’all up? Yo.”
LaVonte moved around in bed. “Damn nigga, what the fuck you want?”
“I wanna know if you up?”
“I am now,” LaVonte growled.
“I gotta talk with Tonio,” he called through the door.
Antonio shifted in the bed. “Man, go ‘way.”
“Nah man, I gotta talk to you.”
“Go ‘way, nigga! Please.” He put the pillow over his head and scooted under LaVonte.
“We got a phone call.”
“I ain’t on it right now.”
“It’s important.”
Antonio didn’t answer.
“Nigga you gotta git up. This is big.”
LaVonte turned to Antonio and lifted the pillow from his face. “Sounds important. You know you wouldn’t want to miss out,” he said facetiously.
Antonio blew a sharp breath and got up, pulling on his shorts and headed for the bathroom.
That was the agreement Antonio and Kamon had, that they would include each other in their jobs whenever two dicks were requested. They made that agreement when the two of them discovered their shared occupation, not long after LaVonte introduced them to each other.
That was almost three years ago when Antonio and LaVonte first met while working at Corso’s.
It had taken only a week for Antonio to find a job after he arrived in New York City, but that wasn’t unusual for him because he’d never had problems finding a job. Maybe it was the distant sadness in his eyes that brought pity to employers, or maybe it was the air of sexuality that followed him. It was a vapor that seemed to affect women and men alike. Maybe it was the employer’s way of keeping him near so they could look at him and imagine things.
Either way, that's where Antonio met LaVonte. From their first meeting they hit it off, laughing and talking easily, and it was LaVonte who started showing him around the city.
In the beginning LaVonte didn’t tell Antonio that he was gay because the subject never came up. It wasn’t until a few weeks later when Antonio suggested they go looking for women that he told him. Antonio had looked at him in surprise, but only mildly so, and with a smile replied, “I can get into that ... sometimes.”
He told LaVonte about himself and from there they started hanging more often, with him finally meeting LaVonte's roommate, Kamon.
It took little time once Antonio met Kamon to know he had a partner in crime. The glint of a smile on Kamon’s face and eyes that seemed to always look for the next adventure told Antonio that Kamon was definitely someone who could relate. And from that day on the friendship between the three men was sold, a relationship that became more than just a friendship, but one that ventured well to simpatico.
All of this is what now pulled Antonio from bed.
Kamon and Antonio waited outside the Empire Sports Club in Chelsea. They shared a kabob as they watched people and cars go by.
“I could use some damn coffee, man,” Antonio said, looking across the street to a sidewalk café. He raised his head and looked at the late morning sun. “Shit.”
“He should be comin’ out soon.”
“Who is this muthafucka anyway?”
“He’s my dude. He always comes through big.”
Antonio continued watching the people at the cafe across the street. He knew he and Kamon looked out of place, two young black men coming down from Harlem to stand in front of a building in Chelsea with nothing to do. “Well dude better hurry, ‘cause I’m beginning to get salty.”
“Man, just be still. When this is over you gonna thank me. You gonna be like, ‘yo, this was it, man.’”
“Is that a promise?”
“More than a promise.”
Antonio grumbled something and took another piece of chicken from the skewer.
It was almost fifteen minutes before the man came out of the building. He was still dressed in his workout clothes and carried a gym bag with him. “Hey Kamon.”
“What’s up Adam? This my nigga, Antonio.”
Adam and Antonio exchanged greetings.
“Come on,” Adam said and the three of them started walking.
They walked a while talking about any and everything. To Antonio it all sounded like shit, and he wondered why the guy had them walking so far. But Kamon promised him something big so he went along.
By the time they stopped walking they were in The Village. Now things were beginning to look better.
“Come on in,” Adam said as he unlocked the door.
Antonio and Kamon stepped into a large loft. The first thing that came to Antonio’s mind was how this man could come across so much money. He looked around, then at Kamon, who walked ahead. It was clear he had been there before.
“You guys want some coffee or something?”
“Yeah,” Antonio spoke up.
“I didn’t recognize you when I came out of the gym,” Adam said to Kamon as he prepared the coffee. “I hadn’t seen you in a while.”
“Busy, man … You know how it is.” Kamon sat slouched back on the couch with his legs spread wide.
Once he had finished preparing the coffee, Adam came back to the living area. “I’m going to take a shower. The coffee should be ready in a bit. I’ve set some cups out. Make yourselves at home.”
“This place is tight,” Antonio said after Adam left. He turned from corner to corner of the large apartment.
Kamon nodded in agreement. “He’s definitely makin' some money.”
“What does he do?” He glanced down at a bowl on the coffee table that was filled with condoms.
“Shit, I don’t know. All these white boys down here got money. Part inheritance, part work, lotta connections. You ready for that coffee?” he asked as the coffeemaker beeped.
They went into the kitchen and filled their cups. Kamon noticed a small figurine on the counter. He slipped it in his pocket.
“You better be cool with that,” Antonio warned, but Kamon didn’t answer; he continued pouring his coffee and they went back to the living room.
Adam finished his shower and came to the door of the bathroom drying himself. Antonio turned a bit away.
“My collection’s grown since the last time you were here,” he said, pulling the towel over his body.
“I thought you would be buying music online instead of CD’s,” Kamon said.
“I do, but I still like to back it up on CD’s,” he said as he walked past them. “It’s like backing anything up, y’know.”
“Makes sense.”
“I’ll put something on. Check it out.” Adam began looking through some of his CD’s. “This is a mix. You know I’m always mixing,” he said, bending forward, his bare ass in full view of them.
Kamon looked at Antonio and gave a half grin. He scooped up a handful of condoms and walked over to where Adam stood with his back to him. “You still got that nice ass, I see,” Kamon said. He wet his finger and rubbed Adam’s asshole.
Adam stood up and faced him and mildly protested. “Kamon!”
Kamon palmed his ass as he pulled the man to him.
“Same ol’ Kamon, huh?” Adam chuckled.
“You know I like that ass,” Kamon said as he turned Adam back around. His hands spread his butt.
“Your friend…” Adam turned back to face him.
“What? You gon’ give him some too, ain’t you?”
“I...”
“Ain’t you?” Kamon repeated. He pecked Adam on the mouth.
“I thought you were just coming over for a visit.”
“I did, but I can still get a little ass, can’t I?” He whipped Adam around and bent him forward, then he squatted behind him, spreading the man’s ass once more. “Yo, Tonio. Look at that. Pink and tight,” he said as he inspected Adam’s asshole. He kissed the man’s ass cheeks and gently rubbed his finger around the man’s asshole, feeling the lube already there. “Mmm hmm,” he breathed as he stood and undid his belt. His belt buckle clanged as his pants fell to the floor and he stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. His dick was rock hard and Adam turned around on his knees and took it in his hand.
Antonio watched with growing anticipation as Adam’s mouth covered Kamon’s dick before pulling back, exposing the large plum colored head. “You gonna give me this ass?” Kamon now hissed softly.
“I ... I thought you were just coming over for coffee,” Adam declared as his breath quickened.
Kamon pushed his head back onto his dick and began fucking his mouth. He nodded to Antonio who had been sitting on the couch with his pants undone stroking his dick.
“Come on.” Kamon tapped the side of Adam’s head. They went into the kitchen.
Antonio dropped his pants and followed them to find Kamon had Adam’s ass up and was rubbing his dick around the rim of the man’s asshole. He grinned and looked at Antonio, who walked to the front of Adam, who was breathing hard, his face against the floor.
Naked, Antonio slid down in front of Adam, his back against the refrigerator, and opened his legs.
“Oh my God!” Adam gripped Antonio’s dick and inspected it. “It’s so black,” he gasped.
Grabbing Adam by the hair, Antonio lifted the man’s head and pushed his dick in his mouth and began moving with smooth undulations deep in the man’s throat.
Adam gagged and pulled back. “It’s too big. It’s too big. I thought you guys just wanted to visit,” he whined before Antonio pushed his dick back to his mouth, watching just the head move in and out past his lips.
“A champ, ain’t he?” Kamon grinned as he moved round in the man’s ass.
Antonio watched the man’s mouth. “A pro.”
Adam’s body convulsed and he let out a moan.
“Let me get summa that,” Antonio said, looking over at his partner.
Kamon gave one hard grind before he pulled out. “It’s good, man. I’m tellin’ you.”
Antonio went behind Adam and grabbed one of the condoms Kamon had tossed on the floor. He rolled it over his dick and slowly pushed in and up into the man’s ass, spreading his hole wide and causing the man to jump forward, exhaling a sharp cry.
“Where you goin’ man?” Antonio asked as he pulled the man’s hips back to him. “Where you goin’?”
Kamon had moved to the man’s mouth, pulling off the condom and taking over where Antonio left off, rubbing the man’s nipples between his thumb and finger as he moved deep in the man’s mouth.
Antonio continued digging deep into the man’s ass until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Breathing hard he started cumming. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he gasped.
The man moved his ass closer, taking it all.
Kamon grinned at the sight, then grabbed the man’s head with both hands and pumped until he came in his mouth.
When they were done, they washed themselves, joking and laughing at their accomplishment.
“Man, you guys are fucking crazy,” Adam grinned, standing still naked, holding his wallet. He slid several bills out and handed them to Kamon and Antonio. “You guys are mad crazy,” he repeated.
Kamon laughed. “Look, we outta here. You know how to get in touch with us.”
“Fuck yeah,” Adam laughed.
“And put some damn clothes on.”
Antonio called LaVonte. “Meet us at West Fourth and Sixth. Don’t worry, we got you. Just come on. And hurry up.”
“Nigga always got so many questions,” Kamon said. “That’s my cat, though.”
“Yup,” Antonio agreed.
LaVonte came up from the station and looked at them. Shaking his head, he idled up to them. “Ho’s.”
They laughed and walked down the street together.
That evening Antonio came home carrying several bags. “Hey Daddy,” he greeted as he came through the door.
Otis was watching TV. He turned to him. “Do I know you?”
Antonio laughed. “Man you act like I was gone for years or something.”
“Seems like it.” Otis looked at the bags. “What’s all that?”
“I got you something. Hold on.” Antonio went to his bedroom.
Otis followed him.
“Where did you get all this?”
Antonio looked at him like he was crazy and set the bags on the bed.
“Look, you gotta be careful out there,” Otis warned.
“I am.” He went through the bags, pulling out shirts and jeans, and a pair of shoes. His father solemnly watched him. Suddenly, he pulled out a shirt. “What’s this like? I got it for you. Yeahhh…” He held the shirt up to his father. “My pops gonna be tight!”
“Man I need to know how you got this,” Otis said. “It’s nice, really nice. And I appreciate the thought, but I wanna know how you got the money.”
Antonio lowered the shirt. “How did I get the money? I worked. Just like you. How do you get shit? ... I’m sorry.” He tossed the shirt onto the bed.
“You don’t make that kind of money at the restaurant. Antonio, you ain’t mixed up in anything are you?”
Silence.
“If it’s what I think it is, I thought we talked about that back in Cincinnati.”
“You want the shirt or what?”
Otis shook his head. “No. Because you won’t tell me how you got it. Antonio, I told you, you have to be careful out there.”
“I am. I just came across some dude who had some money and wanted to spread it around. I don’t know why you trippin’ so much, man.”
“What do you mean, ‘trippin’? You don’t think I have a right to disagree with what you’re doing?”
“You got a right, but it don’t mean I have to agree with you. Look, I’m alright. Everything’s cool. I know what I’m doin’.”
“You promised me, before we left...”
“Come on man, let’s not start that. I didn’t come up here for you to run my life. I’m grown.”
Antonio went back to his bags.
“You gotta know where to go,” Otis finally continued. “Who to be with. You can’t just be with anybody.”
“What…?” Antonio started, then looked quietly at his father.
Otis rubbed his jaw and went on. “Not midtown. You can fall too quick there. And The Village … just a buncha lost kids.”
“How you know I didn’t work overtime at the restaurant to get this?”
“You just said...”
“A man had some money he wanted to spread around. I know what I said. How you know I don’t mean in tips?”
“Don’t play me for stupid. Come on. Your friends ... are they in this too?”
Antonio sat on the bed with a pair of jeans hanging from his hands.
“Are they?”
“It’s just something we do every now and then.”
“I saw a lot of people go down out there in my day,” Otis said. “Murder, disease, and if they survived they ain’t nothing but half of who they used to be.” Otis shook his head. “Too stupid to know when to get out of the game. They believed what people told them about themselves. People who just wanted what they could get from them.”
“That ain’t me, though,” Antonio protested.
“Then what is it, Antonio?”
“Money. Stop talkin’ crazy.”
“We haven’t even talked about your mother since she’s been gone. What do you think...”
“Not now.”
“She may have done things differently, but you know she gave up a lot to protect you.”
“Can’t you respect where I’m comin’ from right now? I don’t wanna talk about her.”
Otis walked to the bedroom door. “I wanted you up here because I love you. You need to respect that.”
(Chapters 7-11 follows on next page)
