Chrysalis Part 2- Chapter 17
This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.
The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story or move.
This work is copyrighted by Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2023
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Chapter 17--The Back Door
"Morning," Tom cheerfully said as he slid into the booth opposite Chris.
"Your chipper this morning," Chris broadly smiled, "Hit the lottery or get phenomenally laid?"
"Neither, my fine young man," Tom accepted the coffee that Stella automatically delivered. "I actually slept very well. No one in my bed making demands." Tom took a sip and added cream. "I actually liked the whole bed to myself."
"Will this be a new trend, solitary sleeping?" Chris laughed.
"Nay, just get too horny to make it more than a weekly event." Tom snarked back.
Chris sat looking at Tom waiting for food. It was nice to see Tom rested and happy. It was nice to see Tom relaxed. Chris relaxed and tucked into his food.
"How's Silent Models?" Tom lifted his head slightly to look at Chris.
"Doing really well, last week we worked on formal wear. Some of it is very radical designs: bold colors and patterns. Interesting biosynthetic fabrics used and electronics."
"Electronics?"
"Can't say too much about them because the designs are prototypes. Next week we start business wear. I suspect then we will see clothing with built in Internet connections. It is really exciting and designs are beautiful. I would wear them out."
"You did the tux?"
"Yeah, but before any enhanced features."
"Sounds like you're wearing a computer?"
"Almost. You should see the shoes--makes Dorothy's boring."
"When will the line be out?"
"We finish in four weeks, but I guess maybe two years? Depends upon patents, technical evaluations, and other crap."
Tom turned serious. "Are you happy in New York? Do you miss Chicago?"
"Beats living under a bridge." Tom frowned. "No, I am very happy here. I have friends, a great job, shelter and food. I miss Hank and Dion, but Hank calls every week or so."
"Are they still living on the streets?"
"Yeah, I think Hank lives there by preference and Dion because he cannot cope with people--PTSD."
"I'm glad you are staying in touch with them. And your sister?"
"Good, we text at least thrice a week. She is keeping my mom informed about me, which is a positive change."
"Your dad?"
"Head buried in the sofa they've had for twenty years. He'll change when the sofa rots out from under him."
"Helga and Stan are very proud of the work you're doing. Cynthia gives weekly reports. According to Helga, you are refreshing, hardworking, and whipping the professional's asses with insight and charm."
The conversation lulled until Chris said, "Derick Lovejoy?"
"The real estate agent of the rich and famous." Tom added.
"He said he needed to talk to me this week about a real estate deal. Is Stan loaning me out to him for some modeling work?"
"Not that I'm aware of, but they don't tell me about all the irons in the fire."
"Are you free tomorrow afternoon?"
Tom thought a bit, "Yeah, why?"
"Ollie and Louis are coming over to experiment with some food ideas. They want guinea pigs. Louis's food is amazing. I'm thinking of recommending them to Ariel for her gallery opening."
"Ariel's very particular about the food." Tom lowered his eyes. "She does not want normal fare."
"Louis's dishes are not normal. Since Ariel will be in town next week, I want her to do a tasting. I also want her to see some of Slim's work."
"Good idea on Slim, but the food." Tom gave Chris a hard look. "I trust you Chris, you have a gift for finding matches."
Benjie slide in beside Chris, "He man, what you doing today?"
"Going to a gay biker bar."
"Isn't that an oxymoron--gay and biker." Tom laughed at Benjie's comment.
"Don't let Chet hear you say that. He'd wipe your ass from one end of the deli to the other, taking particular pleasure over the grill."
"Just guess I'm still gay ignorant." Benjie laughed, "but getting there." He glanced at Tom and then Chris. "You make one hot couple, and I might try gay with you." Tom choked on his coffee.
"Benjie, my boy, we are too far out of your league," Chris laughed while doing a Zoolander pose. Tom choked on his second sip meant to ease the first went wrong.
"Got that right," Benjie laughed with Chris, "Best stay with high school girls, better chance of getting laid."
"Yeah," Chris continued to chuckle, "with me I know the chance is zero."
"Harsh man, hash," Benjie laughed along with Chris.
"Now, Tom here," Chris gave Tom a wicked look, "because he is getting older and less attractive might rise to one occasion."
"You are a bitch," Tom scowled at Chris, "I'm only a year older than you and have fucked more men into the mattress in a week than you in a year."
"Is that your claim to fame?" Chris asked eyes twinkling. Tom just glared at Chris, biting aggressively into a piece of toast.
The windows to the deli vibrated as Chet pulled up on his Harley. "Who is that?" Benjie asked.
"My date," Chris calmly replied.
Chet walked in reeking testosterone. The worn soft black leather jacket over a tight black T-shirt. The form fitting black jeans tucked into motorcycle boots. "Scoot over Tom," Chet said as he sat across from Chris. "Your boyfriend and I have a hot date." Chet tilted his head sideways and smiled, trying to goad Tom.
"Not Chris's boyfriend," Tom quickly said. Chet just laughed.
"Jaw up," Chris whispered to Benjie. Benjie jumped startled and then embarrassed.
"Taking Chris to a biker bar?" Benjie lamely asked.
"Gay biker bar." Chet stared at Benjie. "Meaner than a straight biker bar `cause they can gut you with a broken beer bottle without breaking a nail." Benjie eyes widened. Chet broke out into a warm laugh. "Kid take it easy. Just joshing." Benjie turned several shades of red. Benjie quickly excused himself with a sudden need to wash dishes.
"You're really taking Chris to a biker bar?" Tom asked a little hostile. He was not sure he trusted Chris with Chet. And definitely not at a gay biker bar. Chris was young and naïve.
"Yup, Chris's request." Chet look squarely at Tom. "If you want to woo a man, you need to make him happy."
"You, you wooing him?" Tom's face was stone and turning red.
"If Chris wants it." Chet reached across the table and grabbed Chris's hand. "Anything for you babe," he cooed. Tom turned to stare at Chris, who was watching Chet. Fifty different emotions ran across Tom's face, none of which he was able to control.
"You ready Chris. Thought we'd grab some burgers, ride the wind awhile before we hit the bar."
"Sounds like a plan." Chris said as he slid out of the booth. Tom gapped. Chris threw his denim jacket on. The jacket edged the top of his tight faded jeans; the ass firmly held. Saliva pooled in Tom's mouth and he choked as he tried to swallow. "See you tomorrow Tom?"
"Yeah sure, Chris. Tomorrow." Tom weakly replied. "Be safe." He added as Chet slung a friendly arm over Chris's shoulder and led him out the door.
"Nice looking couple there," Stella said as she cleared dishes. "You need to step up your game if you want to keep him."
Tom mumbled something as he watched the motorcycle roar away, Chris's arms firmly around Chet's chest. Chet's raw sex chest.
"Why did you play Tom?" Chris asked Chet as he mounted the cycle behind Chet. The question was full of amusement.
"Tom has a stick up his butt about you. He wants you but is so afraid he'll hurt you that he is not trying. Want to shake him up a bit.
"Who says I want him?" Chris boldly asked.
"Don't try to lie to Officer Donaldson." Chet scolded, "You do."
"Can I plead the fifth?" Chris shifted on the seat.
"Only if you are guilty," Chet said as he started the motor and Chris grabbed for his life. Tom saw Chris pull into Chet's back and clenched his jaw.
"Where we going?" Chris asked. Chet did not answer. Chris was not sure if he did not hear over the roar of the engine or was being ignored.
Chris relaxed and decided to enjoy the ride. It was a beautiful sunny day; the motorcycle rumbled between his legs. The only thing that would make it perfect would be to let his hair blow in the wind, but no, Chet had to be responsible so Chris was in a helmet. Chet crossed Bennet Bridge and headed northish along Jamaica Bay. Chris had never been in this area and enjoyed the water on his left and homes on the right. Chet turned right and then after a few blocks left again. The ocean sparkled in the sun; the waves were gentle, but still larger than Lake Michigan. The salt air swirled under the helmet and he inhaled deeply. Chet adjusted his back in response to Chris's inhalation. Chris knew that Chet sported a pleased smile. Planes flew over low, so Chris surmised that they were near Kennedy Airport. Chet had a definite destination in mind and wove back onto a main road and across the Atlantic Street Bridge, according to the sign. He exited off the expressway and then turned again at the Royalton Yacht something. Chet did not slow down for Chris to read the whole sign. Chris was now in a residential area, which made no sense, especially since the homes were grand mansion. Chet smoothly cornered the meandering road. Strange place for a biker gay bar he thought, but what did he know about New York. Chet swung into a parking lot in front yard of a modern two-story home; it was not a modest home by any means. Chet pulled up next to a Bentley and cut the engine. Chet motioned Chris off and then hopped off, removing his helmet to hang it on the handlebars. Chris removed his, handing it the Chet, who casually threw it into a storage box behind the seat.
Chet grabbed Chris's hand and pulled Chris behind him, "Come," Chet said with a childish grin.
"Not what I expected for a biker gay bar." Chris deadpanned
"Yea, well," Chet hedged, "they do have a bar." Chris froze, Chet jerked back. "What?"
"Not moving until you tell me what is going on." Chris knew he might be a little childish in this response but he was not going to be blindsided into some orgy or other sexual setting with his eyes blind.
Chet paused befuddled. "This is my parent's home. my mum insisted on meeting you." Chet was bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"What? You want me to meet your parents?" Chris hid a little smirk, "Don't you think this is a little premature?"
Chet fumbled for words until he saw Chris's big grin. "Now Christopher Wentworth." Chris slugged Chet hard on the shoulder. "What was that for?" Chet asked rubbing his sore shoulder.
"Never Christopher, given name is Chris."
"Oh, sorry Chris, didn't know." Chet smiled shyly.
Chris put his arm through Chet's "Let's meet the folks." Chet smiled and they boldly entered the house.
The inside of the house was even grander than the outside. They entered into a foyer with a console table holding a crystal vase with live flowers. "Hey mum I'm here with Chris," Chet yelled.
"Honey, we're in the conservatory," A female voice yelled back.
"No servants at the door?" Chris said teasingly.
"Saturday. We release the servants to recover before Sunday." Chet teased back. He grabbed Chris's arm and led through several impeccably decorated rooms to a glass room full of plants overlooking a pool and an expanse of lawn.
A tall, very thin woman rose as Chet and Chris entered the room "Hi hon," she stepped back to look at Chet, "going to fuck a bull in that outfit?"
"If I can get it to stand still, I'll make it moo." Chet laughed. She laughed too.
"Hi Chris, I'm Mary. So pleased to finally meet you." She pulled Chris into a warm hug. "You are the talk of my social circle." She smiled as she released him. "And of course, Chet here is enamored by you." Chris blushed. "He is so sweet," Mary turned to Chet. "He blushes." She pinched Chris's cheeks, and Chris turned redder.
"Yea, he is sweet, but don't let that fool you. He has his bad ass side too." Chet said as he pulled Chris away from his mother, much to Chris's relief.
"Hi son, how they hanging." said a voice entering the conservatory. The man, in his mid-fifties, was wearing loose jeans and a well wash Grateful Dead T-shirt.
"Little lower than last time." Chet responded.
"Need to stop having people swing on them," came a snarky reply with a laugh. Chet laughed too. "You must be Chris, I'm Dave, this reprobates old man." Dave extended his hand and pulled Chris into a firm hug and quick release. "Heard a lot about you, from several sources, so very glad to finally meet you." Dave gestured to chairs and they all sat. "Glad you forgave my boorish son. Didn't say what it was about, but he was handwringing for days. He is a real pain in the ass, not in a good way, after he puts his foot and, in this case, Chris, I suspect his whole leg from foot to thigh in his mouth."
"With his cute smile, Mr. Donaldson."
"No Mr. here Chris, Dave." Dave interrupted.
"The amount of crow feathers belching from his mouth and his cute smile, I had no choice, Dave." Chris smiled at Mary and Dave. "Of course, there was the bribe of opera seats."
"Did you enjoy the opera?" Mary eagerly asked. Chris eagerly recounted his pleasure. "Pity it was not one of the grander productions. You and I will need to go."
"Not me?" Chet faked a crestfallen look.
"No hon, you are a philistine. I prefer a more cultivated escort."
"See Chris, see how they belittle me. And they wonder why I prefer leather to worsted wool."
Chris totally ignored Chet whining. "I can understand your dismay with Chet. The leather I will admit, however, is very sexy."
"Someone appreciates it," Chet added with vindication.
Chris smiled at Chet then turned back to Mary, "But you sweat profusely in it and then the stench is worse than a whore after fifteen tricks."
"Et tu." Chet plunged an imaginary knife in his chest. Mary and Dave just rolled with laughter.
"You boys want a drink?" Dave asked.
"My dad makes a great martini," Chet quickly added. Chris nodded.
"You made a splash at the Opera Club."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know the dress code."
Mary laughed; it was deep and genuine. "Don't be sorry, you injected a much needed modernity to that staid fossil. Even the young bucks refuse to change." Mary shook her head dismissively. "Your tux had my phone ringing before the opera ended. From the pictures, it was stunning. Who made it?"
"Prototype. I work right now at Silent Models on a design project. They let me wear the tux just to gage response."
"It garnered many responses. Some outrage but that was more envy that you dared."
"The garment was not fully tricked out." Chris said. Mary raised an eyebrow. "The line will include electronics. The tux needed wiring. It can change color, has a microphone in the sleeve for your phone and speakers in the collar. And a few other tricks that are still hush hush."
"No shit electronics," Dave yelled from the bar. "Need me one of those."
"Apparently the whole line will be smart garments. I understand that the sportswear will monitor vitals, calories burned, and slew of other features."
"Who's the designer." Dave asked as he handed everyone drinks.
"Don't know. And if I did I have a very onerous contract for nondisclosure."
"Are they doing both men and women?" Mary asked.
"Right now, just men's. At least the group I am working with are all men."
"Sexism is not dead," Mary signed.
"Chet says that you moved from Chicago to here."
"Yea, Tom Greenwood introduced me to his agent. I was hired and before I could turn three times and say "home", I was in the Apple."
"Tom Greenwood any relation to Cedrick Greenwood?" David asked.
"Cousin."
"I've been trying for months to arrange a meeting with Cedrick to develop a property in Shanghai that I own."
"I don't know much about his business dealing," Chris replied. "Know that he is very particular about his properties. Tends to buy older more historic buildings and totally renovate. We never discussed his expansion plans."
"You know Cedrick?"
"I met him and his wife in Chicago through Tom. Tom was staying at his hotel when they were visiting."
"Know him well?" David leaned closer to Chris.
"Not real well. We went to dinner a few times. I am more in contact with his wife Ariel." That comment brought Mary closer. Chet just sat back and watched.
"I have been trying to involve Ariel in a couple of art projects for disadvantaged youth here in the States and in Central America." Mary chimed in.
"I can mention your name when I see her next week." Chris offered. "And she has a new gallery show opening end of next month. I know she will be in town for that."
"Chris, I need to show you the location." David said grabbing Chris's hand and pulling him off.
"When he gets a new ideas for a development, he's a kid." Mary shrugged to Chet.
"Yea, he just stole my date." They both laughed.
A half hour latter David and Chris returned with David's eyes gleaming and Chris's dazed. Chris sat close to Chet, who looked at Chris sympathetically. Chris picked up the martini that he had barely touched and gulped half.
"I thought we might have a small lunch in the sunroom." Mary pulled out her cellphone and tapped in a number. "So much more convenient than bells to contact Esmeralda."
"The cook/housekeeper," Chet explained to Chris.
David and Mary led Chris, with Chet close behind to a room windowed on three sides. It was painted a cheery yellow with a light blue trim and a table with four chairs. The table had a light blue floral tablecloth, matching napkins and dining wear. Water glasses were filled. Chris thought the room was cozy but overkill.
"Have a seat boys," Mary lightly said as she pointed to two seats. "I hope crab quiche is okay with a small salad."
"Did Esmerelda make her buns?" Chet asked, the enthusiasm hinted that there were his favorite.
"Of course, dear," Mary purred. "She does whenever you are home." Mary turned to Chris, "Cordelia Duncan said she stopped by to see you the other night."
Chris suddenly realized that while New York had a population of over 8 and half million, social circles were far smaller. "Yes, she did." Chris paused not sure how to proceed, "How is she doing, she was distraught that night."
"She is doing really well, considering what her husband is. She is a strong woman."
"That was my impression too," Chris added.
"Chet says that you are a model?" David asked. "What area?"
"As I mentioned earlier, I am doing some work for Silent Models and then will do Milan Fashion Week in October. In between, that is for my agent to decide."
"Do you like it?" David continued.
"So far, yes. As a long-term career less so. Right now, I am enjoying meeting very interesting people, like you and Mary."
"Your tongue is as sweet as your face," Mary cooed with a sincere blush.
"Who have you met that interested you most?" David continues his questions.
"Personally, it is I. Guzman." David and Mary looked blank.
"The I. Guzman, the gay romance writer?" Chet said wide eyed.
"Yes, met her at a party, and then went out to eat a couple of times."
"He is my favorite gay author. I grew up on his books."
Chris coughed, "Sorry to burst a bubble but the I s for Izabella. It is an older woman. Met her son and granddaughter."
"No shit," Chet exclaimed.
"Language," Mary chided.
"A woman, never would have guess. I always imagined some debonair man of the world. The sex is hot."
Chris laughed, "Yeah, hot. But she does excellent research. She pumped me for information for almost two hours."
"When did you meet?" Chet wanted to know, obviously intrigued.
"At a party thrown by Chaz, an interior designer in Chicago."
"Chaz, the designer," Mary butted in.
"He designed our living room."
"Your living room is beautiful, but he is a bit of cad. I needed to put a stop to his aggressive advances at his door." Chris laughed lightly. "He does throw great parties. I meet Ms. Guzman and Stu Stein; he owns the modeling agency Corbett & Steinholtz. Which landed me here."
"Chris, I for one am glad you landed here." Chet said with a pat on the shoulder, which prompted looks from David and Mary.
David sat staring at his plate thinking. "Are you and Chet an item?" David finally asked.
Chet and Chris both answered no at the same time and then turned to grin at each other.
"Too bad," Mary said, "I would love Chet to find as charming a young man as you. Chet does not bring many men by, but a few of them I wanted to fumigate the house after they left."
"Remember Horace," Dave said and Chet groaned.
"Yes Horrible Horace." Mary continued. She turned to Chris, "He left grease stains on the water silk sofa and the smell. I am sure he bathed in piss."
Chet turned close to Chris ear, "Piss was his thing."
"And Two-Timing Tony," David said to Mary, and then turned to Chris, "He and Chet dated for six months, so we invited him to supper. He brought another man and during the entire meal made out with him. I swear they were jacking each other off under the table."
"And Chet just sat there, ignored." Mary fumed.
"Would it have been better if they both were attacking me at the table?"
Mary did not hesitate, "Of course dear, it would have been better. Uncomfortable for your father and me, but to see you ignored by the man you really liked." Mary shook with remembered anger, "that behavior was rude, crass, and boorish."
"I dumped him the minute we left the house. You did not need to worry."
"I always worry," Mary smiled with affection, "I am your mother." Chris looked at Chet and then Mary's faces, although they may snip and not agree; there was always love. "I am sure your mother feels the same way Chris."
Chris looked down at his napkin, "I have not spoken to my parents in over three years." From the look on Mary's face, Chris just farted, he knew he could stop there. "They do not agree with a choice I am making."
"Chris," David looked at Chris with compassion, "It takes a strong person to be what he needs to be regardless of what other people, even family. I admire your courage."
Chris felt the sincerity of the comment erased all the apprehension from the day before. "Thank you. Thank you both." The moment lingered into awkward time, thankfully relieved by Esmeralda bring desert.
"I hope you like crème Brule. It is another Esmeralda specialty. It has Mexican cocoa and a little cayenne."
Chris cracked the top of the dessert with the back of his spoon as he saw Mary crack hers. Chris took a small spoonful and tilted his head back to savor the flavor, "This is the most amazing dessert ever." Chris took another spoonful rolling the custard around in his mouth, "Do you think she might give me the recipe?"
"She is very protective of her recipes, but we can ask. But she will be very pleased that you enjoyed it."
After several minutes of light conversation about New York and Chicago, music, and art, with some business gossip added. Chris noticed Chet was bored. "Need dirt. What was Chet like as a child?" Chris asked innocuously.
"He was a pistol," David answered with a broad affectionate smile. "Remember the time Mary when he decided clothing was not how God made us."
"He insisted that he be nude." Mary jumped in, "we finally convinced him that going nude in public might offend other."
"But around the house, he was bare assed naked even when we had company." David added with a smile at Mary. "That phase lasted three months until the weather got cold and he saw the value of a sweater."
"How old was he, four or five."
Both Mary and David laughed, "No, fourteen and often with an erection." David answered.
"Most of our friends were tolerant. My parents thought it cute." Mary said.
"Father O'Malley was a little uncomfortable," David snickered, "But he was always a very uptight prick."
"The only thing that save us from total embarrassment was that he had a cute ass." Mary said looking at Chet.
"Mom, enough." Chet was red like an over-ripe tomato.
"He does have a cute ass still," Chris chimed in reaching down to pinch Chet's bottom. He jumped. Mary and David laughed. Chet was not amused and sulked.
"Do you remember the time," Mary said, "when we caught Chet masturbating by the pool?"
"Enough," Chet said loudly while standing. "Chris, we need to leave while I still have some dignity."
Chris stood and Chet grabbed Chris's arm pulling him toward the door. Mary and David followed still laughing.
At the edge of the parking area Chris turned to David and Mary, "It has been a pleasure to meet you both. I had a great time and tell Esmerelda the food was fantastic." Chris extended a hand, but Mary pulled him into a hug.
David then demanded a hug too. "Do come back," he said, "With or without Chet."
"We have more stories about our unique boy." Mary added.
"Chris, you will never come back here without me." Chet stated more in panic than anger. Chris just folded his arms in a stance that said who the hell are you to demand this. "Please," Chet whined, "I need to have some dignity." Mary and David laughed.
"When I see Ariel Greenwood, I will mention you to her." Chris yelled as he mounted the motorcycle. Chris leaned forward just before the cycle hit road and whispered, "Thank you, I enjoyed meeting your parents." Chet just nodded and gunned the engine, almost throwing Chris back to the ground. Chris clung tighter to Chet, which Chet realized he liked.
Chet and Chris roared into the parking lot of the bar. It was a rectangular building painted black, including the windows. The door, however was a high gloss fir engine red. Above the door in red neon was the name "Back Door". No other indication that it was a biker bar was on the building. The only clue was the seven cycles parked outside: four Harleys, two Kawasakis, and a Zero. The only indication it was a gay bar was the large rainbow flag hanging from the corner.
Chet stowed the two helmets in a lock box. "Now this place is a little rough." Chet said as they walked to the door. Chris looked at Chet for further information. "Lot of testosterone and sex. There is an enclosed back patio that can get wild. I do not recommend you go there unless you want your ass used."
"Is that why the place is called the Back Door?"
"No, well maybe a play on words. A back door is the last person in a convoy of cycles. The last person is the last to stop in a line, by extension this is the last place to stop."
Chris nodded and entered as Chet held the door. The place was not as dark or smoky as he anticipated. Five people sat at the bar, a couple of them chatting, but no naked men humped over a table. Chris was slightly disappointed.
"Hey Chet, long time no see," said a monster of a man as he walked to stand in front of Chet. Chris figured he weighted at least 325 and was over 6' 4". He had on boots, of course, scruff jeans and just a leather vest. He was not a gym bod: definite beer belly and noticeable tits, pierced with large, heavy rings.
"Hey, Dirk. Been busy, so not been in a good month or so." Chet smiled at Dirk, but he needed to raise his head to make eye contact.
Dirk poked Chris in the chest and said to Chet, "Can't find yourself a real man so now you got to eat twink ass?"
Chris's knee hit Dirk in the groin, as he bent over in pain, a left hook connected with his jaw. Chris then swept a leg around to hit Dirk behind the knee. Surprise was all that was Dirk's face as he slow tumbled back sending chairs running like roaches and set tables on edge like dominos.
Chris shook his hand out and grabbed a stunned Chet's arm. "I need a beer." Chris saw a few raised glasses to him as he guided Chet to a stool. "Two taps, please," Chris said to the barkeep. The barkeep placed five shot classes in front of Chris.
"I'm Petey," The barkeep said. "The glasses are for beers from some of the other guys. Two are from me."
"Thanks," Chris said with a nod to the others at the bar.
"Been waiting for someone to take Dirk down. He is such a blow hard--not in the good sense." Petey said with a shake of the head. "Don't know how tickled we all are it was you. Nice left hook." Petey looked at Chet, "You got yourself one sweet looking body guard. Wouldn't mind him protecting my ass."
"Yeah, he is special all right," Chet looked at Chris then back to Petey, "But his ass is already taken."
"You're a lucky guy." Petey said.
"Yay, a very lucky guy but not me. We're just friends."
"Still a good friend to have. And looks to stop a raging bull." Petey laughed mostly to himself, "literally," Petey glanced over to Dirk who was still struggling to gain his feet. Petey went off to tend another patron.
"Chris, that was some take down." Chet laughed, "Took me by surprise and Dirk too."
"Bigger does not mean stronger," Chris quietly said to Chet, "or smarter."
"No, you are proof." Chet laughed. "You know you will be a celebrity here. David and Goliath." Chris casually shrugged. "I assume Bill at the end of the bar," Chris looked and waved at by a tall thin with a wild mane of hair. Chris waved back. "Bill will want your picture. He has one of Dirk on the floor."
A dark shadow was at Chris's shoulder. It was Dirk, "Chris, want to apologize," Dirk said with a broad smile that showed a few broken teeth. "That was one sweet take down. Never saw it coming, that's the best kind." Dirk extended his hand. "And whom might you be sir?"
"I'm Chris, pleased to meet you Dirk," Chris smiled and extended his hand for it to be lost in Dirks massive paw. "Sorry about the knee to the crotch, but I needed you at my level."
"I'm a little sore, but no damage, been hurt more in my playroom." Dirk turned to Chet, "Sorry about calling your date a twink. He's a man with balls bigger than Montana. He may look like God's angel, but he's got the devil's horns."
"You got that right, Dirk. He is very much a handful as I am learning each day. He just charmed the panties off my mother and then threw a mean left hook. I am very glad he is not my boyfriend. He's too much for me."
Dirk laugh was loud, bold and earth shaking, "I'll leave you to your gabbing. I need a drink to assuage my shame." He laughed loud again when Chris looked at Dirk. "Like I underestimated you, you underestimate me as dumb. I have a master's in chemical engineering."
Chris handed Dirk one of the shot glasses. "Share one of my drinks as an apology for judging a book by its cover. Do you work with graphene?"
Dirk said then turned to Chet. "Cute, tough, smart and charming--a 79, pity he's taken" Dirk walked away smiling.
"I don't think I have ever seen Dirk smile," Chet said looking at Chris
"Snakes can be charming until they bite. Remember that," Chris said and then took a swallow of beer.
"Excuse me Chet, who is this radiant young man?" It was Billy.
"Billy this is Chris, Chris, Billy," Chet said as Chris and Billy shook hands. Chet continued, "Bill is an editor for one of the local gay papers and a publicist for the New York Mets."
"Nice to meet you Billy," Chris said.
"Likewise, with you." Billy smiled back and moved closer to Chris. "Must say you took everyone by surprise when you clocked Dirk. Been a long time coming--with his size he tends to intimidate people."
"Not me, learned a long time ago that you either fight or run. Since I had nowhere to run." Chris left the rest to hang.
"What you do here in the burgs--job wise."
"I'm a model currently working at Silent Models."
"You sure dispel a lot of myths with one blow." Billy laughed. It was like bells you see on a rope. Billy squinted at Chris. "You look familiar." Billy blushed, "I didn't take you home late on a drunk night?"
"Nope never, I moved from Chicago just a few weeks ago." Chris answered.
Billy continued to stare. Chris shifted on his stool, uncomfortable. "At Jazzabel's on the piano. I saw the video." Chris nodded. "I wish I had been there that night. Were you there Chet."
"No only saw the YouTube edited version," Chet said.
"Yeah, me too. You've got a large following." Billy said to Chris, "Over 5 million likes. Any talk shows contact you yet? No Ellen at your door?"
"Thankfully, none." Chris replied with a blush.
"Would not be surprised if you got offers for some shows." Billy continued to stare. "You're also the guy who decked the perv at the modeling agency." Chris reluctantly nodded, "My job is to remember faces and places. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, but you are new news."
"Lucky me," Chris said turning to take a swig of beer.
"Some people would pay big bucks for the exposure you've had. You have so many things going for you that people desire to be with or see you. You are stunningly handsome, in a David Bowie androgynous way, you are a talented musician, you are photogenic, you are able to physically defend yourself so not a `pansy ass', and you are shy and genuine." Chris blushed vermilion. "Try not to let people change you or become jaded. This city can do that to you." Billy looked at Chris closely, "How old are you--18?"
Chris started to panic, "Jazzabel declared me 21," Chris finally said.
"If Jazzabel says it, it must be true." Billy laughed, bells again. "Can I take your picture for the Orien newspaper?"
"If I say no?" Chris asked.
"I would take your picture anyway when you were not looking. This is not a protected place for photos like your house. But I would rather have your permission and a pose."
"Fine," Chris grudgingly said. "Where do you want me?" Chris clicked into his professional persona.
"Right there is fine, just smile innocently." Billy stepped back to get a better angle. "Chet out of the frame unless you want me to say Chris was protecting you from a bully." Chet quickly moved. "Good, more innocence with a touch of bad boy." A couple of seconds later "Got it." Billy walked back to Chris. "You are fantastic in front of a camera, Chris. There is something about you that demands that people look at you." Billy slipped his camera into his coat pocket. "I'll leave you to your tete-a-tete. It was very nice meeting you Chris. If you need tickets to the Mets let me know. The stands could use more bodies." Billy gave Chris a card and left.
"You're blushing, Chris," Chet laughed.
"I'm not accustom to all the attention. A few weeks ago, I was a Skid barely surviving on the streets of Chicago with a very diminished life expectancy, Now I have a job, a nice apartment, friends, and then all this other shit that just happens." Chris sighed and took a large gulp of beer. "I do not know what normal is, and it is tough staying balanced."
"Kid," Chet moved into give a hug, "you are doing pretty alright. I have never met any 19 year-old that has more of a sense of self and a determination to be that person."
"It is just too difficult sometimes." Chris looked at his beer and the three shot glasses. He shoved the beer away. "I know we need to talk, but I gotta get out of here. You know any parks. I always seem to think clearer when in nature."
Chet studied Chris carefully, "Sure kid, let's go." Chet grabbed Chris by the waste and walked toward the door. "See you later, guys. Got to get my boy sober."
"Nothing good about fucking a drunk." came a yell. Chris turned and glared ice and piss. "Sorry about that, Chris." came an urgent reply.
"Nice meeting you, Chris," Petey yelled from behind the bar. "I'm putting three beers on your tab for the next visit." Petey wave a bar rag, "with or without Chet."
"Yeah." "Hell, yeah." "Fucking right." came multiple cries from the patrons.
"Thanks, guys. You are all great big puppy dogs, and I love you."
"Heh, Chris," Dirk stood up, but with a big grin. "Chris, I meant it when I say you are alright by me." Dirk came forward to give Chris a hug and then slipped in a kiss on the lips. He looked back at the other men at the bar. "It is worth a slug." Chris kissed Dirk back; surprised, Dirk blushed swatches of red. Hoots erupted around the bar.
Outside Chris inhaled ocean, forsythia, and asphalt. The claustrophobia was receding, his breathing felt more relaxed. Chet handed Chris a helmet, "Where are we going?"
"This is my apology date with you--my choice, my secret. You trust me."
"Implicitly," Chris sat behind Chet breathing in the smell of Chet's leather jacket. He closed his eyes to feel the wind and taste all the scents of spring.
The motorcycle slowed and Chris opened his eyes--Brooklyn Botanical Gardens.
"This good?" Chet asked as they entered the garden. Chris could only nod as verdant spring assaulted him. They entered into cherry trees tufted pink--the world was pink. Blossoms rampant on trees, blossoms swirls on the air, blossoms carpet on the ground--and then the scent. Chris felt himself open up, and he was entranced, enthralled, enamored. Chris remembered a haiku by Basho
How many, many things
They call to mind
These cherry-blossoms!
Chris breathed in and knew all was well.
They meandered through gardens of tulips and daffodils, under blossom laden bowers of pink petals, though mazes of French knots and herbs until finally resting on a bench under oaks in the woodland garden at the edge of the lilacs.
Chet and Chris had spoken little as they walked, but now was the time. "Chet why did you want to go to Derick's party?"
Chet felt nervous and plunged ahead. "Derick Gordon is believed to be a major drug dealer and money laundered. It is hoped that by attending this party, which is very exclusive, very invitation only, we may get a toe hold on his operations."
"I see." Chris simply said.
"Mr. Gordon has asked you twice to attend. He is interested in you for some reason. It may be innocent or not. But you are the first crack we have had."
"Why you? you're not undercover."
"He knows you and me are friends from the opera, so it fell into my hands to be with you. We trust each other. Right?"
"Yes, but it sounds dangerous."
"It might be" Chet paused to look at Chris. "but the operation will be completely monitored by the FBI. You will be wired."
"Derick's parties are nude."
"He has already said you do not need to undress."
"I am sure they will check for wires."
"This is how you are perfect for the job." Chris waited. "You have a prosthetic that has a battery. Everything can be packed in that without suspicion." Chet waited for a response.
"I need some time to think about this." Chris evenly said, "I am not saying no. I just need to do some research."
"That is fair," Chet nodded, "I know I am putting you in a difficult position, but we have been after him for several years. We think he is the money man for most of the opioids in the metro area."
"Yeah, now add more pressure." Chris shot back.
"I just want you to be walking in knowing."
"I get it, but it doesn't make it easier. These are very bad people who have no compulsion of not only killing me but hurting people I love."
"Yes."
Chris sat on the bench lost. He rose and walked over to an oak tree. The bark was rough like an old man's hands, but this tree was not old. It was young in the life of trees. It had not absorbed centuries of wisdom from the soil; it had not endured an eon of wind and rain; it was not old; it was like Chris, Chris slid down the side of the tree to sit on the still chill earth. Letting go to the perfumed air. Slowly he could discern the individual scents over the giddy lilac: the redbud and cherry, the grasses and sedges, the musky fern and subtle water lily, the strivings and yearning of seeds and bulbs to break free. He put a hand over his womb, his wound, his weed, knowing it did not belong. Life is so not simple. Chris inhaled deeply and caught a scent of Tom: the oak and fern. Chris inhaled deeply and caught the scent of Juan and Stella and Benjie. They were somehow in this place in this soil, in this air. He understood and rose--refreshed and resolute.
"Let's finish the gardens and I'll let you know in a few days." Chris stood and grabbed Chet's hand to help him rise off the bench.
"You understand that no one must know about what we discussed."
"Obviously." Chris said as he firmly walked down the path to the lilac garden.
"Want to head home?" Chet asked as he saw a more determined Chris.
"Yeah, but I want one last look from the Overlook." The view was stunning with all the cherry blossoms and other flowering trees. Chris took a deep breath assuring he would return.
Chet dropped Chris off with Chris's promise to let him know soon what his decision is. Chris entered his apartment, collapsed on the sofa. All the exciting events of the day were overshadowed by Chet's request. As he removed his shirt, lilac scent hit his nose, and he knew what he needed to do.