* * * *
I ran on the treadmill, pressed some weights, swam a dozen or so laps, and decided that was enough for the day. I had plans for the evening, and I had to get home. I showered off the chlorine, toweled myself dry, and was just tying my Reeboks when a couple of men entered the locker room.
“I told you that’s him! Go ask him!”
“I don’t have any—”
“Ask him!”
“Uh…You’re Sweetcheeks, aren’t you?”
“No.” I wasn’t going through the whole explanation that I had been but I wasn’t anymore. I rose and looped the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
“Look, we know it’s you. We’ll give you fifty bucks to blow us both.”
“I said I’m not him.” I paused and looked them over. They were probably around my age but outweighed me by about fifty or seventy-five pounds. They wore jeans and flannel shirt jackets, and both sported fairly heavy five o’clock shadows. How had they gotten into this gym?
“We say you are. And you’re gonna blow us.”
My heart began pounding as the taller of the two reached for me.
The next thing I knew, they were on the floor, clutching their balls and groaning in pain.
Years ago, Tim had taught us how to protect ourselves. “Don’t try anything fancy, just go for the balls. And don’t worry about it being a betrayal of the brotherhood.”
I tightened my grip on my gym bag and hurried out of the locker room, looking around for the day manager. “Sandy!”
“Hey, hi. It’s good to see you.”
“Same here. Uh…There’s some trash in the locker room. You might want to get rid of it.”
“Huh?” He opened the door and looked in, then scowled. “How the fuck did they get in here?”
“I was wondering the same thing.”
He went in, and the door shut behind him. I chewed on my lower lip. How had they known me? I hadn’t recognized them. Would I have to find another gym?
Sandy came out and locked the door behind him. “Fuck a duck. They’re undercover cops.”
“They were…they were trying to coerce me.” I felt cold. “What precinct?”
He told me, and I blew out a breath.
I knew a cop who worked out of that precinct. I took out my cell phone and called him. “Jim, it’s Sweetcheeks. I’ve got a problem.”
* * * *
Fortunately, he was in the vicinity and was able to get to the gym faster than I’d expected.
“Jim, I didn’t come on to them, I swear it. I’m not in the business anymore.”
“I know, but either way, you’re out of their league. What they were thinking…” He shook his head, looking annoyed.
“Are they going to come after me?”
“Not after I get done talking to them.”
“Sandy isn’t going to get in trouble, is he?”
“For what? Having a faulty lock? Go on home. I’ll take care of this, Sweetcheeks.”
“Thank you. Sandy.” I pulled him aside and took a business card from my wallet. “If they do give you any kind of trouble, call this number. He’s my lawyer, and he’s a damned good one. Thank you.”
Shit happened. I got out of there. I had stuff to do, and I didn’t want to be late.
A few years before, I’d learned that the principal of a local high school had not only allowed a Gay-Straight Alliance to be formed on campus, but had gone up against a group of parents when one of his students wanted to bring his boyfriend to the prom as his date.
The boys and I had discussed it. One of our stocks had split and paid well, and I’d taken part of the dividend and donated a couple of computers to the school’s computer lab. Although I’d made it a point to keep our form of employment a secret.
That got us on the school’s mailing list, which we’d receive a few times during the year.
The most recent newsletter announced the senior class production of Much Ado About Nothing. I’d bought tickets and had hoped to go with Wills, but since he was away, I decided to go alone.
After dinner, I showered and changed into a black Jos. A. Banks Signature Gold suit with a burgundy pocket square that matched my tie, made sure I had my wallet, keys, and cell phone, and headed out.
* * * *
The play was a delight, and afterward I went backstage to compliment the students and their drama teacher, who was very attractive, as well as very gay. If I hadn’t had Wills in my life, I’d have been tempted to ask if Mr. Martini would have a drink with me, but as it was, I simply told him how much I’d enjoyed the production, shook his hand, and left.
It was only a little after ten, and all that was waiting for me at home was an empty bed, so I decided to stop by Around the Bend, a rent boys bar, for a drink or two.
I parked on the street, opened the door, and walked in. It was dimly lit and not too crowded, the reason for both due to the fact it was the middle of the week.
A long, low wolf whistle greeted me, and I struck a pose, and then went to the bar.
“Hey, Sweets. Long time no see.” The bartender grinned. “Your usual?”