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What money? A few thousand dollars wasn’t that much money for Nico Bonetti. How the fuck did he know it was missing? I thought it was Chad’s money.
“I wouldn’t know about sleeping with men,” I said to the dude with the dust on his shoes. “I like the pussy,” I answered. I wondered if I was convincing when the P word fell from my lips. He raised his head and his left eyebrow, then lowered his head for a moment and continued reading his paper.
I offered the customer whom I knew as Mr. Bagel a closed smile. He must have introduced himself at one time, but I didn’t take notice because I thought, who would want to come to a place like this if they didn’t have to? Since I opened up this coffee shop in this hick town in Texas, he’d always come in here, and order a bagel with cream cheese and black coffee. Most of my patrons would usually get a breakfast burrito, but this one wanted a bagel and I always ordered a box of them just for him, and put them in the freezer. Maybe an occasional English muffin also.
“I can’t imagined what the bookkeeper was thinking stealing money from the Mafia,” I said, absentmindedly wondering if someone had recognized me. I’d been looking over my shoulder ever since I’d left Manhattan for this shithole in the desert. And I thought I’d gotten away from everyone. I’d hoped I’d stay away from danger long enough for anyone looking for me would be dead or in jail, then I could have a life, but I didn’t have that now.
Then I had dark hair, but not now. Then I was twenty and lied about being older, and had gone to college and was good at math. I thought that was what the head of the Bonetti crime family in New York state wanted. Someone kind of sketchy, and didn’t mind doing something illegal. Why not? I’d been stealing cars, dishonest with my girlfriends about being straight, my mother and father, so why not fall down the world of crime, and besides they paid more than going to college, and having to follow my father’s rules. Fuck all of this.
Fuck this hiding out. I’d give anything to start over. I’d even go straight. Well, that was asking a little too much.
Now I was blond and looked like every other young dude who worked with his hands in the sun trying to forget my past, and begin a new future in a place filled with Spanish-speaking people, and one or two whites who’d been born here and couldn’t get out no matter how hard they’d tried. Or the soldiers who had no choice in the matter.
I knew I’d stick out like a sore thumb as my father reminded me, but I thought I was smart and knew better. He’d said, ‘you’re too smart for your own good.’ That didn’t make sense to me at the time, what could be better than being smarter than the next fellow. I thought hiding in plain sight was a good plan aside from stealing from a man who looked at me as his boy until he didn’t, and that was when I knew it was time to get lost. I was too young to be Nico Bonetti’s kept man, and besides I didn’t want to be kept by a man like him. I thought negotiating with Nico for more money would make me independent until I could run, or he’d leave me alone and tell me to get my ass away from him because he wasn’t going to pay me anything, and to take my ass right where I came from. That didn’t happen.
Mr. Bagel snatched me from my thoughts, when he said, “I wished I knew who this stupid guy was, I’d turn him in for the half million Mr. Bonetti posted as the reward.”
I’m standing here, you moron, and you don’t see it. You don’t see me hiding in plain sight. And if Nico gives you a half-a million, then you’re denser than you look.
“Have your coffee and bagel because there’s no way you’ll find him in Imperial or Fort Stockton,” I added with a small arrogant chuckle.
“Yeah you’re right.” He placed the paper down, and it was the New York Post. It never occurred to me the kind of people who didn’t read the local newspaper, but would get the Post. Yeah, I was too smart for my own good.
I strolled from around the counter to look over the customer’s shoulder who had put the paper aside while I took a peek at the Post while he held his coffee cup with one hand, and smeared his bagel with a knife with the other hand.
My hand shook when I poured him another cup of black coffee. Then the chime of the bell shook, and I glanced up to see who had entered the dinner. It was never this busy and especially from strangers. The locals were sitting in the blue leather booths to the side in the back against the wall, and they weren’t raising their hands for a second cup of coffee.
These were early morning guys who were headed out to their construction jobs, and who stayed at the local hotels and motels along I-10. I knew their faces, but some weren’t as familiar. My cook knew some of them too, because he had known them and had grown up with them in the Fort Stockton area. Some of the soldiers stationed here who worked at the stores made their early morning stops, and I felt good, because I could make a living and forget about my past.
Everyone knew each other except the bagel guy. He’d been a recent customer and I had assumed a recent plant in this hellhole.
I had no worries then, until this handsome dude showed up from out of nowhere, and sat at my counter. I strolled around behind the counter as he glanced at the menu. “I’d like a veggie omelet with a small amount of cheese and—”
“We don’t have that until eleven. It’s nine. When my cook comes in about ten, then he can prepare it for you.” He glanced around.
“This is a coffee shop or diner isn’t it?”
“We’re a small operation.”
“When you say we, do you have a partner? If so, then have him cook me an omelet.”
“Isn’t there something else on the menu that you can order?” I questioned. Then he smiled and that smile was warm and his mouth was beautiful along with that gorgeous face.
He winked at me, and said, “If you’re on the menu, then I’ll take you.”
“I’m not gay,” I rattled off, not too convincingly. Not sure whether I could trust him or not because I didn’t want that to get around, especially in this town and in Texas. In Manhattan I could lose myself and that was what I’d done.
The handsome dude’s expression quickly changed and his forehead furrowed. “But if I was, you’d be my first choice.” He seemed to relax when I said that. Then he stood.
“I’ll come back later when your cook is in.” And he strode out of my diner with his long legs in a quick stride like a show horse. He wore dark slacks and a white shirt where the sleeves were rolled up, because of the heat, no doubt. And that was when I spotted his tattooed sleeves, and that should have rung a bell, but no. I was too smart for my own good.
I was mesmerized by his handsome face and firm body and his broad shoulders and long legs to think about anything else but him. And it had been almost a year since Dante took me to bed and wanted to take me somewhere else. I hadn’t had any kind of relationship with man or woman, and being a young guy with sexual needs and a healthy appetite for the same sex, I couldn’t wait to explore this stranger.
I’d been flattered that he saw me as interesting, and knew I was gay even if I denied it. It wasn’t like New York. Texas was so far from being New York, it could have been a different planet altogether.
I wondered why I was attracted to a man now after my failed love affair. The Bonettis had left a sour taste in my mouth, not to mention the feeling I got when I thought about how Dante rode me hard, and put me up wet as they said in Texas.
My thoughts were always with Dante. I guessed everything came to an end, even love. Perhaps the stranger reminded me of Dante with his dark hair, and good looks and the way he strode away. As if nothing scared him, and he looked different not from around here I surmised. I was half his age and that excited me. He had to be in his late thirties like Dante, and now I was twenty-two and had been on the run from the Bonettis.
