Singing In The Rain - 1. Chapter 1

I'm singing in the rain

Yes, singing in the rain

What a glorious feeling

And I'm happy again

I'm laughing at clouds

So dark up above

The sun's in my heart

And I'm ready for love

Let the stormy clouds chase

Everyone from the place

Come on with the rain

I have a smile on my face

I walk down the lane

With a happy refrain

Just singin', singin' in the rain

Dancing in the rain, da-da-dada

I'm happy again

I'm singing and dancing in the rain

I'm dancing and singing in the rain

Songwriters: Arthur Freed, Nacio Herb Brown.

Presently

Aunt Sally was on a roll. Lord only knows what triggers and stops the rants against the various injustices, but it is best to stand just a wee bit off to her side once she lets loose. You most likely aren't the focus of her wrath, and you find yourself pitying her intended target, more so if they are present, and if not, hope the scalding diatribe is focused on a direction that resists spontaneous combustion.

All I knew was I needed help. Aunt Sally was in high dudgeon! I'd never seen her so and was worried…fuck that…truly scared if I didn't intervene, someone was gonna come close, most likely too close to dying, hoping against hope that Eryk was coming out anytime now. Her Lucille Ball wig was over by the dumpster, one of her ruby red high heels was now a flat, and the other was soon to join in the impromptu modifications. Providing it wasn't firmly lodged in the body underneath her. The dress for tonight's show was in tatters. One of the padded shoulders was hanging by a strap, and bright, shiny sequins had flown everywhere. She'd have been aghast at the clash of colors of whatever the unfortunate soul was wearing. One of her false eyelashes was stuck to her cheek, her mascara and make-up a total loss.

I had just managed to grab the arm that wasn't pinning her assailant down when Eryk came barreling out the back door of the restaurant. Together, we'd managed to pull her back when we realized the focus of her venomous ire was Tommy Johnson. Uncle Pete had just come out, letting us know that the police were on their way, when I heard a stifled moan near where Eryk's car was parked.

Looking over, I saw two young boys; the older one was lying in a fetal position, pants and underwear down towards his knees, his companion cradling his head in his lap, his torn, dirty jacket inadequately covering what we weren’t supposed to see, providing what comfort he could. The look on that boy’s face broke me and haunted me for nights to come.

Earlier

"Order up," Eryk yelled as he tapped the cook's bell, letting Mikey know the next breakfast order was ready. “Let Aunt Sally know her home fries will be ready in a minute." As he put the plated breakfast on the ready tray, his eyes scanned the next order. One hand grabbed a couple of fresh eggs, cracking them open for another order of over-easy with a side of bacon and wheat toast.

Once the eggs were going, he plated Aunt Sally's home fries with a rueful shake of his head. “Well done was an apt description;” beyond crispy would have been another. For the most part, the morning rush was over. He was glad that breakfast was only served till eleven, and Sunday brunch wouldn't begin until mid-afternoon, ending just before Aunt Sally and the 'girls' took to the stage.

It had been a gamble at first. Opening the restaurant side of Pete's Bar and Grill, renovating the space and replacing the old, outdated kitchen equipment that couldn't be refurbished wasn't inexpensive. Fortunately, most of the dining tables, booths and chairs were serviceable after a thorough cleaning. The walls and ceiling were another story. The ceiling had to come down and be renovated and restored. The ventilation equipment, combined with the kitchen’s was replaced as well.

Elbow grease, several applications of it, along with a couple coats of neutral paint where needed, brought the walls back to a nearly new condition. Surprisingly, through decades of disuse, the floor was in remarkable condition, and thorough cleaning would suffice. It was a far cry and quite the journey from driving a forklift and going to college. There had been times when I had wanted to grab a baseball bat and go after Mr. Glendin, my former supervisor and his father-in-law, the fucking weasels…thank God for a competent attorney.

It wasn't so long-ago things were entirely different, and life was going in a different direction.

                                                                                                        ~~~

Earlier

College was a breeze, Eryk thought, learning the business courses required for his degree came easy when he could contrast the information with the time he was now spending in the office. While he sometime missed driving the forklift, he loved being involved in the larger picture. There was just so much more to learn and absorb. The best part was the challenge to fully see and assemble the various components into a cohesive picture. He was thriving on the challenge and the effort in his course work along the mentoring from Mr. Burton. A month in the transportation/logistics department had him learning the intricacies of scheduling and learning how to reconfigure incoming and outgoing products when Sod's Law paid a visit to the firm.

Marketing proved to be more of a challenge. The firm didn't exist in a vacuum; clients needed to be sought or coddled and promises made were promises to be kept. If a thousand pounds of seafood were delayed on delivery, the fish markets still needed product for the weekend's sales. Of all the departments, this one demanded superior customer service skills. Fuckups here truly affected the bottom line. Piss off a client, and soon you'd be looking for another, possibly more if word got around the industry you weren't reliable. On the other hand, superior client services generally brought in clients dissatisfied with their current vendors.

Accounts receivable and billing proved to be a challenge at first until he learned the system. Everything operated on a thirty-day basis. This is where the log and load sheets the loaders were required to keep were so important. But without a doubt, the critical staff to keep happy were the ones who did all of the bookwork, from payroll to billing. Corporate admins were never to be crossed either. They were the pinnacle of the scuttlebutt chain, and being a negative topic of discussion wasn't a good look. They held the proverbial keys to the kingdom, so to speak.

                                                                                                       ~~~

The best part, however, was coming home each night to Mikey and the house they shared. Without a doubt, the best thing to happen in his life. What was the old saying? Love shared is love multiplied. It was never so true, and how lucky he was. His parents called every Sunday evening to catch up and for the both of them to pass along any news. The house itself required very little work, a couple coats of room paint here and there, a carpet or two replaced. Maintenance was a snap, a few bushes to trim, mowing the lawn and raking leaves. It was big enough for a dog and, as Mikey pointed out, a couple of kids someday. I'd grab him in my arms, pick him up, and scuttle off to the closest room.

It was a race to see who could lose their clothes first, and then we'd wrestle and tussle a bit. We had come to an agreement that once I was done with school, we'd look to foster with the caveat of adopting. I'd flip him over on his back, asking if he would mind carrying my child as I looked into those mischievous eyes. It would lead to a round of kissing and other such fun, and soon, I would find myself lying under him laughing when he asked me to carry his child. I'd reply only if they were twins.

Mikey worked days and a few nights at the bar. Business had improved to the point that Uncle Pete hired a bartender. He had been working, actually pleading to open up the other side, and as time allowed, he would have at the years of stuff that had collected. Much of the stuff was items that needed to be 'saved', too important to be thrown away, as someday it could be used again. Sadly, that 'someday' was most likely twenty years ago.

                                                                                                 ~~~

Wednesdays, my sophomore year classes ended at noon. It gave me time to have a quick lunch and get an afternoon in at the company. It was the beginning of the school year, and I was surprised that some of my school clothes no longer fit or were comfortable and that, along with tuition, including the purchase of the books and required supplies, I could be reimbursed for an expense.

Taking my receipts, I headed into the office. I saw Mr. Glendin sitting in the CEO's office with his father-in-law and Mr. Burton coming towards me. His face was impassive, not the usual look for him. He was always with a smile and questions about school work. Directing me to the nearest conference room, he sat down with me to deliver the news I never expected to hear. Not only was I out of a job, but my funding for college as well. Mr. Burton was also being let go as well, and Mr. Glendin would give us our severance papers in a moment.

To say I was stunned was an understatement. To say I was pissed was a colossal understatement when I found out the fucking cocksucker of a father-in-law, who never fucking retired, bought the frigging company, turning over the running, day-to-day operations to his rat-faced-weasel son-in-law!

The pudgy little fuck came waltzing into the conference room wearing a toupee two sizes small and several shades of colors not found in nature. His suit had several food stains, and his tie was about three inches too short. The buttons of his shirt looked as if they were going to shortly become projectile missiles. Somehow, he managed to get his fat ass into one of the chairs.

Tossing a manila folder to each of us, exclaiming, "You will find your termination pay papers, for cause, in those folders. Human Resources will need signed copies by the end of the day. There will be no further severance, and once you leave this floor, you will be escorted to the front door."

"I'm sorry," I replied. I don't understand. We have a contract. Tuition, books, and supplies were just paid and are to be reimbursed."

"That's a you problem, Eryk, not a me problem," he replied. You will sign those forms and leave the premises immediately. You and your perverted lifestyle disgust me!" he said, his voice rising and his beady rat face breaking out into a sweat.

Standing up with as much false respect as I could manage, I said, "I'm not signing anything here today. I will be seeing my attorney and giving him these papers to review. Once he tells me what course of action I need to take, you will be hearing from him."

"Listen you little faggot, you're fucking fired! We don't need your kind working here!" his face breaking out in red splotches.

"With all due respect, sir," I said as I walked out the conference room door. You'll be hearing from my attorney shortly."

I was shaking from how upset I was, my mind a whirl. As I walked towards the exit, Mr. Burton's admin assistant caught up with me. Looking over her shoulder before leading me out of sight of the conference room, "Mr. Burton wanted you to have his contact information." Passing me a card, Patty was one of the better employees working for the firm, pleasing and pleasant to talk with, she was no-nonsense and all business in the Human Resources department. It occurred to me that she was typical of the employees who reported to Mr. Burton.

"We all heard what that asshole had to say to you. I am not sure if I will be reassigned or let go as well. If they have me working for that man," she said with some vehemence in her voice, "I just may have to slip some f’ing rat poison in his coffee!" Reaching up to me, she planted a quick kiss on my cheek, "Everyone here respects you, Eryk. You have more friends here than you know." As she was turning back to the conference room, she passed another card to me with several names and numbers of the office staff who were present and heard Mr. Glendin yelling at me. "When you see your attorney, give him our information as well!"

                                                                                                 ~~~

Attorney Cannon was gracious to see me right away; he had been my parents' attorney and was the one who checked over the original offer sheet from the company. With a few modifications, he deemed it good to go. How little did I realize just what those changes would mean. After listening to my recounting of what had transpired earlier, I gave him the two cards. Smiling like the proverbial Cheshire Cat with a never-ending bowl of cream, he leaned back in his chair, chuckling to himself and, after a moment, told me to go find Mikey and relax. He'd cover any funds I laid out for my studies…and I was to apprise him of my grades until, and I quote, "We milk those assholes for their last frigging penny."

                                                                                                  ~~~

The bar was quiet when I walked in later that afternoon. Prior to going in, I had gone over all the bills and other expenses. What we had in the bank should cover us for half a year so long as we economized. I dreaded telling Mikey and Uncle Pete and put it off by looking at the class schedules and syllabus for each class and tried reading ahead in a couple of them. After staring at the same page for half an hour, I gave up and decided to go in.

                                                                                                    ~~~

Presently

"Aunt Sally, do you still have Taddy Bear?" Asking in as non-confrontational a voice as I could, given the situation. The last time Taddy needed mending, he sorta moved in with Aunt Sally. Taddy had given way to more exciting things as my need for him diminished. My first bicycle and the chums I had made friends with in kindergarten and grammar school. Along with board games and all the other distractions that came with growing older and living with those who gave me the love and care I desperately needed.

For the longest time, Taddy was my constant companion; the repository of all the evils I had suffered resided within him. And in return for his listening to everything I poured out, I loved him with all my heart. Here was someone I could talk to and never be judged, just loved. My deepest, darkest secrets and fears of the horrors my parents inflicted when all I wanted was to be loved. I had a hard time adjusting when Uncle Pete brought me home at first. Learning I didn't have to hide from my parents' sight and that I wouldn't be beaten for no reason at all. Uncle Pete gave me Taddy Bear, who took all those horrors without complaint so I could grow, and now he was needed again. Admittedly, there were times when I behaved badly towards Taddy Bear.

Neither Taddy nor Aunt Sally ever said a word when he returned to me good as new.

Eryk finally got control of Tommy Johnson when I spotted the two young boys up against the old Volvo. I had kept teasing Eryk that the car was like a bad rash; it simply wouldn't go away. It took time, but I also had come to love that car. Now, two frightened children had their backs against the car, seeking protection from the horrors of earlier that morning. Had they gotten any closer, up against that car, they would have blended into the paintwork.

There was no mistaking that the older of the two boys had been badly hurt as he lay prone as his companion, his brother most likely, cradled his head. Their clothing, while serviceable, was filthy, tattered, and torn in places. The look the younger of the two had on his face broke me. It was all there, desperation, abject fear, and a willingness to do anything to protect his brother.

I tried moving closer, and he snarled at me, bearing his teeth, his arms reaching out as if his hands were claws. Unseen at first was a smaller dog who had been hiding behind the front wheel of the Volvo. The mutt was a Wire Terrier or an Airedale mix; there wasn't much to go on at first. The dog also appeared to have been injured, but it didn't stop him from joining in the snarling and his obvious willingness to join the fray.

Sitting down, crossing my legs, and speaking softly, I tried to calm both down, to defuse the situation in front of me. What wasn't helping were the groans the unconscious boy indeterminately let out.

How she did it remains a mystery to this day, but in record time, Aunt Sally came back down, looking as if nothing had happened, bringing me Taddy Bear.

That little boy was me, not so many years ago. I needed to reach him, to have him accept me as a protector. The horror that lived behind his eyes told me so. He needed me as much as I needed him.

"My name is Mikey, and if you let me help you, Taddy Bear here would like to be your friend." Holding out Taddy, hoping against hope that the boy would take him. He didn't look like much with his eyes askew, the obvious repair jobs on every part of his body. An ear that looked as if it was lost in a fight with a rat, mismatched arms and legs having suffered more deprivations than any Taddy Bear should have.

Aunt Sally sat down off to my side, slightly behind me, her voice soothing as she implored the boy to let us help. "Your brother's been hurt, boychik. He needs help. Do you see the blood on his face? You gotta help us fix it."

As she spoke, I slightly scooted forward, his interest in Taddy Bear obviously showing as his face mirrored the mixture of emotions he was feeling. Uncle Pete had come up with a broken-up hamburger on a paper plate. As I put it down in front of the dog, "We only want to help you. The man who hurt you is being taken away. He will never be able to hurt you again." I could see he was listening, letting his guard down ever so slightly as I edged even closer with Taddy Bear and the hamburger.

"Can you tell me your name?" I asked.

His shoulders sagged, his chin trembling, copious tears flooding his eyes; you could see him wanting to give up the fight, a desire to trust anyone who wouldn't hurt them. "Peter," his breaking voice said, somehow finding resolve. "This is my brother Tim. Ruff and I tried our hardest to protect him from that bad man."

"She," he told me, pointing to Aunt Sally, "Stopped him till you and that other man came out."

"That's my husband, Eryk, and if you let us help you, we'll take care of you. We won't let anyone hurt you ever again!"

The dam broke. As Eryk reached in to pick up Tim, Peter grabbed Taddy Bear, sobbing for all he was worth as I cradled him in my arms. After eating some of the hamburger, Ruff came to sit beside me.

                                                                                              ~~~

Aunt Sally had some quiet words with the responding police officer, asking to have Chief Woods come down along with the EMT’s. In short order, Tommy Johnson was unceremoniously dumped in the back of the cruiser. Tim was made as comfortable as possible while we waited for the arrival of the EMT’s. They saw no need to take him to the hospital when they arrived. He had been badly bruised but nothing severe enough to seek additional medical attention, he was lucky the assault was over before it truly began. I had to ask the inevitable question regarding their parents and where they lived. Regardless, we’d take him to see our doctor in the morning after a decent night’s rest.

He pointed across the alleyway to a partially opened door. We were to find out that the boys and their mother were squatting in the rear of an old vacant shop with her ‘boyfriend’, Tommy Johnson.

                                                                                          ~~~

At one time, there was full employment in this section of town; the mills and factories had made ample use of the river for the power to fuel their machinery for footwear and the looms for creating cloth and fabrics of all sorts. As with anything, competition was fierce; northern mills and factories were losing the battle of survival to states in the south, the cost of operating was far less, and anti-union labor laws provided the death knell for the northern mills and factories. Many owners saw the larger profits that were to be had and simply picked up sticks and moved south.

In many cases, these factory and mill buildings stood empty and derelict for decades. Funds for securing the buildings and security were virtually non-existent. The ancillary businesses that supplied the various and sundry items to those firms simply faded away, sometimes in the dark of night, leaving behind everything and no forwarding address.

                                                                                        ~~~

Somehow, they had running water and electricity. In one of the rooms were soiled, grubby mattresses and bedding; the bathroom, while disgusting, was functional and in the other room was an old gas stove and a kitchen table and chairs, accompanied by an ancient fridge. Old paint was peeling everywhere you looked. Paint chips the size of dinner plates were falling off the ceiling. Industrial green was the color of the day and was applied everywhere. Someone had the foresight before leaving everything behind to paint the windows on the exterior walls.

It was what we found in the next room that wrenched our souls. Sitting upright on another decrepit mattress was their mother. Lack of treatment for her cancer had left her rail thin. Her sallow face, the folds of skin hanging off her arms, told us it was simply a matter of time. Peter attached himself to me like a limpet; that sight convinced her we meant no harm. She knew she hadn't much time left and implored us not to let Tommy Johnson take her boys.

                                                                                           ~~~

Things in our lives had changed by the time we got home late that evening. Tim had been banged up; the attempted rape failed. Subsequent testing later would show no trace of venereal disease or damage from the attempted rape. Ruff would be sore but back to normal shortly. Paperwork had been signed by the boys' mother attesting Eryk was her first cousin and, in any eventuality, would have custody.

Aunt Sally had burned up a few phone lines and called in several favors; it helped that one of her frequent assignations happened to be the clerk for the lead judge in family and probate court. A few days later we were simply given paperwork to sign, and the boys, including Ruff, were ours. Oh…and Taddy Bear had a new best friend, who sometimes required Aunt Sally's services.

                                                                                                          ~~~

Earlier

Neither Mikey nor Uncle Pete were expecting me in so early. After a beer I began my tale of woe up to the point of leaving the attorney's office. It was Uncle Pete who agreed that the attorney's analysis was solid. Reminding me that he also had read the contractual agreement and told me in no uncertain terms, "Someone is about to get royally fucked, and it's gonna cost them for the pleasure."

"Listen, Zippy, and you too, Mikey, this is a good time to open up the restaurant. The area is becoming popular again with all the condo conversions going on." One developer took a chance and rehabbed one of the old mill buildings down at the far end of the block, into smartly designed condos that sold quickly, and now the rush was on.

"The asshole's father paid me a hefty sum not to press charges or take him to court. We can use that to get a start on opening the space." He pulled out a manila folder from under the cash register counter containing the business plan Mikey had devised. "It needs refining, boys. Take this and spend the rest of the afternoon going over it and checking the restaurant space, to see what else needs doing."

"And Zippy, think about adding hospitality classes to your courses, focusing on food and beverage."

                                                                                          ~~~

It was unfair, actually, Mikey attacked me with his lips, knowing I was helpless to fight against them. He had sidetracked me to his devious plan when he grabbed a six-pack to con me as to his true intentions. We had no sooner entered the space than he wrapped his arms around me. While he was kissing me, my shirt became unbuttoned, and before I knew it, I was on the table he had pinned me against, wondering what the heck happened to my pants. All I could figure out was that, somehow, my pants and briefs fell down while he was attacking my lips.

Mikey's focus wasn't on the business plan but the business in his hand before orally ministering me. I was lost in a fog of euphoria as he rubbed my body, tweaking all my sensitive spots. I wasn't sure if it was the excitement of the day with all that had gone on, but my body had a hair trigger, as all too soon, I found myself on my knees, returning Mikey's favor.

As I looked around the restaurant, I could see that Mikey had used a lot of elbow grease, tackling the various items and cleaning what he could. Unbeknownst to me, there was another set of bathrooms, and they looked pristine; surfaces had been scrubbed and polished and were clean enough to eat off of. All of the years of crap that had been stored in the booths and on the counter were gone. The windows looking out onto the street had been stripped of years of grime, paint, and washed. Mikey could see the questions forming in my mind, telling me that bits of what had to be tossed made it out to the dumpster each day. Had I noticed it was slightly larger than the one we regularly used?

At the far end of the space, there was a large stepladder, and leaning against it were the tools he was using to clean the ceiling and walls. What had been cleaned revealed something that couldn't be bought today without spending a veritable fortune.

At one time, when prosperity was different and the area was booming, the titans of industry needed a place to eat and entertain themselves in the style they were accustomed to. The building that eventually became Pete's Bar and Grill served a dual purpose. On the bar and grill side were cheap drinks and food for the workers. On the other side was the opulence and the décor reflecting a suitable atmosphere for conducting business. Old photos that Mikey found showed the place from days gone past. Luxuriously appointed booths were reserved for upper management, running alongside the window wall. Opposite was the counter with stools for middle management and administrative staff, running the entire length of the space. No expense had been spared, as the cleaning of years of neglect proved.

                                                                                                             ~~~

I never knew what to expect when Attorney Cannon called asking me to meet him at the Tax Collector's office. I'd been waiting nearly a month for an update; we had expended most of the funds Timothy Johnson's father gave to Mikey. It was with some trepidation that I agreed to meet with them. What I found out was stunning, mind-blowing, and a sweet kiss of karma.

Sureline Distribution, my former employer, was not only on the verge of bankruptcy but also in tax arrears going back a significant number of years. The bottom line was that for several years, they made partial payments, and for the last three years, none. The tax collector stressed that there wasn't any way they wanted to run the business and wanted to find a buyer for taxes owed with half interest.

Attorney Cannon had been in touch with Mr. Burton, who knew investors, who wanted to buy Sureline Distribution once it was out of danger. In short order, the taxes in arrears were paid, and I became the new owner of Sureline Distribution thanks to Uncle Pete. We agreed to sell to Mr. Burton’s investors once the company finances were stabilized and the current client and vendors were mollified, giving us time to make things right.

Mr. Glendin and his father-in-law had been skimming funds wherever they could, it was those funds that they used for the downpayment. What they did not count on was my lawsuit. The court was adamant that significant damages were due to Mr. Glendin's outburst. When all was said and done, the funds from the sale to Mr. Burton’s investors were very substantial. At Uncle Pete's insistence, we bought the mill buildings for taxes across the alleyway from us, adjacent to the river. Uncle Pete was insistent that gentrification was coming, and in short order, they would be worth far more than what we paid. What remained was more than enough to finish the work on the restaurant.

Presently

The boys and Ruff have been with us for the better part of a year now. I can't say it's been easy, but it's been ever so worth it, and I thank God for Mikey. He always told me, making me promise, that we'd have a couple of kids and a dog someday. It was what this house needed; you know it damn it; he was right.

As I finish this, I can hear the sounds of the boys playing in the backyard; their shrieks and laughter let me know they are having fun. Looking out the window of our study, I can see that Mikey is getting the worst of it; he's covered in mud, and it's the first dry day in nearly a week. The boy's don't look any better either and all I can make out of Ruff are his eyes and an occasional glimpse of his tongue. I watch Mikey rise on his hands and knees, lifting his head. I see him looking at me, imploring me to save him as he's tackled back down into the mud puddle.

The work on my desk can wait as I doff my shirt, socks, and shoes. I've gotta go see if I can grab that soaked, muddy piglet called Mikey….