Manny Needs a Nanny - 8. More Explanations, and Hiding Things From Rocky

After breakfast, Bass asked Manny if they could go to the study.

"Geez, Manny. I had a feeling not changing my clothes first was going to come back and bite me in the ass."

"No harm done, Bass. Rocky's a precocious teenager, for sure; but sooner or later we'd have gotten found out."

"Sooner or later? So, last night wasn't a one-time thing?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Oh, hell, no. I can teach you about guns, and fighting, and shit like that. You can teach me so many more, pleasant, sexy, things."

"That's good. I wouldn't want to stop, either. I guess, you should always keep a change of clothes in my room from now on. I wouldn't want to risk Rocky hearing us in your room, him being right next door."

"I guess, I was pretty loud. Do you think, he heard me, um, us?"

"Doesn't matter if he did. He's already assuming, we did something. As long as we're not fucking in the living room, he's going to assume we'll continue."

"Fucking in …"

"A figure of speech. But you should see your face right now,” barely able to contain his amusement, “I said that without really thinking, but your facial expression was worth planting that image in your mind. I wish I could have caught it in a photo. Anyway, that would never be something I'd do with Rocky in the house. Not to mention the rest of the staff. Patrick may swing both ways and then I'll lose you. Hehe."

Unfortunately, Manny's night-time work schedule wasn't very amenable to constant sex sessions. He and Bass would have to figure something out if they wanted to 'hook up'—to use Rocky's phrase—more often.

They left the study. As they were walking through the living room, Linda stepped off the stairs with a laundry basket. Manny hoped, all the beds had the same sheets, but Linda's smile, at them as she continued past, crushed that hope. Both he and Bass realized they were the sheets off Manny's bed.

Bass looked like he wanted to find a rock to crawl under, "I guess, everybody's going to know now. Linda will tell Patrick; Sandy has to had figured it out based on Rocky's comments. I'm not going to be able to look any of them in the eyes now."

"Didn't they know you were gay?"

"They knew that. But they never knew, I was shtupping the boss."

"You weren't, you know, with Boris?"

"Fuck no. You're my first. Besides, meeting his playthings was always done outside the house."

"His playthings?"

"Yeah, Kelly wasn't as discrete. She and Albert didn't hide anything from anybody. Not even Rocky."

"She'd done that to her own son?"

"Stepson. But yeah."

"Wait, Rocky wasn't hers? Then, her putting cameras around the pool didn't make any sense."

"The cameras were because she wanted to catch me doing something with Rocky. Two reasons, she never liked me, and she had a thing about watching two guys. And Rocky doesn't know that she isn't his natural mother. That's another fucked up story about the Tanners. "

"Oh, I gotta hear this! I'm all ears."

Bass took a deep breath, "I suppose, you should know the whole story. Rocky's mom was killed shortly after he was born; maybe three months. Just a bit before I was hired. Boris fired the previous bodyguard, even though, from what I've heard, he couldn't have done anything anyway, except maybe piss his pants."

"Killed, not died; so murdered, too?"

"Yeah. Boris was meeting her at some fly-by-night motel—thinking, nobody would ever suspect, he'd go to a fleabag place like that. It wasn't his style. Top of the line all the time. So, anyway, apparently, he or she was followed there. Someone put a dirty bomb outside their room while Yakov, the last bodyguard, walked away to hit the can—that may very well have been part of the plan. The trip mechanism must have been faulty. It was supposed to blow when Boris left. Yakov knew he would go get some ice and a bottle of wine he had in the car. It didn't trigger. Later, when Milla opened the door to step out for a smoke, BOOM! Boris saw her pretty much ripped to shreds right in front of his eyes.

"It took him three years and a few hundred thousand dollars to find out who did it. But he did, and he made them pay. I didn't get details, but I heard the torture was brutal, inhuman even. Kelly came along when Rocky was just under a year old. She was the only mother he ever really knew. But as time went on, Boris got deeper and deeper into his father's business. She stayed because the deeper he got, the richer he got, and she wasn't about to choke the golden goose."

"How did Boris get Rocky, then? It doesn't sound like he and this Milla were living together."

"They weren't. Boris just took him. Milla's parents were watching him, she still lived with them. Boris bought their silence and they moved away. Probably."

"Probably?"

"Yeah, they could be dead, I don't know."

"So, wouldn't whoever was behind the bombing still want revenge? Rocky could be in danger."

"Nope. Not revenge, control. It was Boris' second in command: Igor, part of the same group of folks, who tried to kidnap him, driving it. Igor apparently hadn't known Boris, was already dead. Now that he is, and they know, even doing anything to Rocky from prison won't make Boris suffer. There'd be no point to it."

"But how could you know for sure?"

"I have my contacts. Three of the ten people involved have been permanently silenced already—one in our own kitchen, ankle-man, and Igor. The remaining ones are in jail and are just soldiers. They know, the same fate awaits them if they try anything. They no longer have anything to gain, but everything to lose by harming Rocky. Ivan's competitors are happy, the whole organization is kaput. They'd have no reason, either."

"Are your contacts part of…?"

"No way. Correctional officers. Not involved directly at all."

"So why would, I guess, Boris' old colleagues, want to kidnap Rocky?"

"Like I said. They didn't know, he was dead. If he was still alive, they could have used Rocky as leverage to either get him out into the open and kill him or force him step away and let his second in command take over everything."

"How could they not know, he was dead? There was an obituary, there had to be other news reports."

"Sure, but he was never ‘Boris Tanner’ to them. They only knew him as ‘Tanenov’. He, somehow, kept that knowledge away from both his colleagues and competitors. Although, apparently not the police, based on our visit."

"So, then, was it Boris' own people that cut the brake lines in his car?"

"Very likely, yes. His competitors had nothing to gain either. If they cut off the organization's head, there'd be a new one a day later. It was his second that got greedy, and careless when it came to the kidnap attempt."

"So, for all we know, the guy that lost his head in our kitchen could have been the one that cut the brake lines?"

"A one in nine chance of it, yeah."

Manny was speechless. He couldn't even whisper 'wow.'

************************

It was the start of another work night for Manny. He was still waffling between flying high after his tryst with Bass, and nervous because of the Tanenov history lesson he'd received. He tried to push the nervousness aside. Being in a bad mood usually cut down on his tips tremendously. Not that he was overly concerned about money; his expenses were significantly lower after moving into the Tanner place. Most of his meals were covered. He'd sold his ancient Ford Fiesta and dropped its insurance. He'd been driving the 300 anywhere he needed to go; keeping his pile of junk was pointless.

He used the house debit card to fill the tank and the occasional meal at Charlie's. He figured he would start paying for some of the food he ate while working, Charles had always treated him well. Besides, he wasn't paying out of his own pocket. Brewster might put the kibosh on that once the first statement got to him, but if that happened, Manny would apologize and begin paying for the food himself; it'd be no more expensive than Door Dash. No Orly-like fringe benefits, though. Maybe in time, he'll get that from Bass. Little did he know that Brewster's paralegal kept close tabs on that account. Ten or fifteen bucks a few times a week wasn't a problem. Brewster felt Manny couldn't take care of Rocky if he didn't eat. And the amounts were relative pennies against the millions in the estate.

"You look happy tonight, Manny."

Loretta, one of the waitresses, who was always nice to Manny, was working tonight. She, Charles, and the rest of the staff knew, Manny was gay, so Loretta probably figured, Manny was safe, and wouldn't hit on her. That, and Manny had stopped customers from getting too frisky with her several times. Loretta was tall, almost six feet, had long blonde hair that she kept in a ponytail at work. She also had the brightest blue eyes Manny had ever seen. That, and having a slight resemblance to Nicole Kidman, attracted many of the men who came into the bar. The regulars knew, she was 'hands off,' but occasionally a visitor passing through got a little out of hand. Manny was large enough to deter most of the rowdies. Any that weren't intimidated by his size surely were afraid when he pulled Charles' .357 out from its hiding place behind the bar. Fortunately, he'd never had to pull the trigger. Yet.

"Thanks Loretta. I had a real nice night last night."

"With the same guy, you'd been dating?"

"No. I haven't seen him since I moved. It's a new guy."

"Manny, you're going to run out of gay men in Jackson County at this rate."

"I think this one is going to be different. All the rest were just a passing fancy. I feel a lot different about Bass."

"Bass? You're dating a fish?"

"Ha ha. It's a nickname. And technically, we're not dating, yet."

She smiled, "Hmmmm. Not dating but had a real nice night—interesting. Feel like sharing more?"

"No. And table three is waving wildly."

"You're no fun."

Manny thought to himself, 'I doubt Bass thought that last night.'

"Nope."

A while later, Charles came out of the office to head home.

"How are the new digs working out, Manny?"

"Really good, Charles. Rocky and I get along pretty well, the staff is great. I try to treat them more like peers than subordinates, and I think, they're appreciating that."

"And I bet the money's nice, too. You're paying for your food."

"I have a little leeway about what I spend. I don't get a salary per se, but so far, nobody's complained when I buy myself things. I won't be buying a Picasso or anything expensive. Shit, there's already one there."

Charles' eyes opened wide, "So, it's a nice house?"

"Oh, God! You wouldn't believe it. Come by some Sunday. You can swim in the pool, play tennis if you want. Hell, work out in the gym, too."

"You're shitting me!"

"Nope, it's got all that."

"Holy fuck. Text me the address; maybe I will come by on Sunday."

"You got it."

Manny immediately took out his phone and sent the information to Charles. Loretta came up to the bar with her next order.

"Can I get an invite, too?"

"Sure. You have a boyfriend. Bring him, too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not. I'll invite Priscilla, Taylor, and Danny, too, we'll have a Charlie's party at the Tanner mansion."

Priscilla and Taylor were the other waitress that worked at Charlie's. Danny was a part-time bartender; he only worked enough to give Charles some time off and have an extra pair of hands Friday and Saturday nights. Manny sent a bunch of texts, inviting them all to the house, Sunday at one. Sunday worked well for everyone since the bar was closed.

Wednesday

Manny woke a little earlier than usual the next morning. He wanted to talk to Sandy about Sunday.

"Good morning, Manny."

"Morning, Sandy."

"You're up a little early this morning. I can have your breakfast ready in a couple minutes."

"No hurry. Why don't you sit down? I need to tell you something."

Sandy looked a little worried, wondering if she did something wrong.

"Everything is cool. I only wanted to tell you; I invited the gang from Charlie's over for Sunday afternoon."

She relaxed, "Oh, okay. Do you want me to prepare anything special?"

"Nothing special—these are all working class stiffs, like we are. ‘Fancy’ isn't in their vocabulary. Just typical bar food. Maybe those mini-hot dogs, wings, maybe Mozzarella sticks—things like that."

"Sounds easy enough. How long will they be staying?"

"Let's figure a little into the evening, so maybe a roast, mashed potatoes, something simple for dinner."

"That won't be a problem. How many?"

"Well, I just invited them last night; probably around ten. I'll get a head count and let you know tomorrow. Would that be okay?"

"Of course. That's plenty of time to get what I'll need."

"Great. Thanks."

"You're welcome. You're nicer than Kelly was. She would have barged in here and started giving orders. And probably wait until Saturday to say anything."

"Thanks. And you never poisoned her food?" Manny joked, with a big smile on his face.

Feigning shock, "No!"

Manny looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, I never poisoned her. I did occasionally give her a slightly out of date egg with her breakfast."

Manny laughed, "How far out of date?"

Sandy giggled, "Not much, maybe three months."

Manny broke into a large laugh, "Remind me never to piss you off. And no eggs on Sunday."

They both laughed about that. She got Manny breakfast. After he left, she threw away the three rotten eggs she had been saving for a just in case situation.

Next up - "Manny's First Party, and More Troubles"