That's the Chicago Way - 8. Chapter 8 - Ring a Ding Ding

THAT’S THE CHICAGO WAY

Jack Scribe

A facade of skyscrapers facing a lake and behind the facade, every type of dubiousness.

E.M. Forster

Chapter 8, RING-A-DING-DING

Being up early on Saturday morning was not high on Evan’s list of ‘must do’s,’ especially with the rocky night he’d weathered, but he had promised Sean a callback. ‘Gotta find out what’s going on in the Caymans…Marv will want a full report.’ He poured his first cup of coffee and padded back to the bedroom. ‘So be it: Sean at eight and Marv right afterwards.’ He realized that Sean was becoming a toxic item in the business relationship and it was Evan’s job to pass on what he learned. ‘I’ll be okay as long as the boss doesn’t go into shoot-the-messenger mode.’

There were a few minutes to kill, so Evan flipped open his laptop and went to Facebook. At the top of the page was a notification for a friend request – it was Kris Lamacki’s…without a note. ‘What the fuck.’ Evan accepted the request. ‘Now we’re BFF’s…not. But maybe, down the road, he’ll be up to messing around again with that little but mighty weapon of his.’ He surfed Kris’s Facebook but nothing else looked interesting except for Kris’s 258 friends. ‘Most of these guys and gals must be from school.’ However, he recognized some of the friends’ pictures from the bars and wondered if they presented a gallery of satisfied bedmates.

Evan wrote on Kris’s wall. I’ll be at Sidetracks tomorrow for HH. Maybe we’ll meet up? ‘No harm in trying.’

He signed off, took a final sip of coffee and leaned back into the pillows with his phone. No one had called since Sean’s late night interruption, so Evan scrolled back through his caller ID and pressed ‘talk’. The call was picked up on the second ring.

“That you?”

“Your wake-up call, sir,” Evan said with an exaggerated, chipper tone in his voice. “Shall I send room service?”

“It’s my favorite comedian…a real yuck a minute. What was so important last night that you couldn’t talk?”

“Entertaining. And I didn’t think it would be a good idea to talk business in front of a civilian. That’s what was so important.” Evan paused for a moment to let his spark of anger pass. “I’m here now and you got my full attention about the Caymans. What’s up?”

“Got a call last night from my guy down there. The fucking banking supervisory authorities were sniffing around for information on one of my accounts after hours yesterday. Word’s that the fucking F.B.I. is behind this and that’s the bad news. The good news is that the account they’re checking out is pretty clean. I use it for one of my importing companies.”

“Darling, that doesn’t sound so bad. If you’re clean, you’re gold.” Evan didn’t understand why Sean had sounded panicked the previous evening.

“You don’t understand. I’ve got accounts in three other fucking banks down there that don’t need the attention…if you get my drift.”

“Ah ha…I get it. How much are we talking about?”

“Over five mil in one account and a couple of mil in each of two other banks. That’s my fucking little nest egg.”

Evan was tempted to toss out a ‘tough shit’ but thought better of it. ‘Better make sure Marv isn’t involved in this witch hunt.’ Marv Revson had never discussed banking in the Caymans and Evan decided to troll for more information. “Wow, that’s a lot of moola, Sean. Are these your funds…or is Marv involved?”

“Mine, one hundred percent. What he does with his, I don’t know. Anyway, you’re a bright guy and I need to figure out what to do. Any thoughts?”

“Besides that you’re fucked? Just kidding.” Evan chuckled and continued, “I suggest you – like today, as soon as we hang up – find a Caymans lawyer who can advise you. I do know the courts are a little slow down there, so you may be able to pull everything out and put it in a safer place. However, I don’t have the foggiest idea where that’d be. Certainly not Russia, but I’ve heard that India has a lot of black money moving around in their banks.” He wasn’t going to suggest the countries where Marv stashed his funds.

“Fuck India. Like I’m going to send money to that fucking ‘Slumdog’ place I saw in the movie. No way.”

“That ‘fucking place’ is one of the world’s fastest emerging economies.”

“It ain’t emerging with my dough.”

“Then I go back to option number one. Hire a legal eagle down there and get some advice real quick. Time’s still on your side because Kess can’t find anything substantive…not enough to make it stick…and we’re hoping that the story will slowly fade away. However, this news might change that assessment.”

“So you don’t know if it’s safe to come back?”

“Sean, for your sake and your cousin’s, I suggest you continue to follow his advice and keep a low profile. However, Sunday’s a slow news day – if you drove back to pick up more clothes, check your mail and get back to Geneva, no one’s going to be the wiser. Plus you might want to grab your passport and some cash.”

“Passport?”

“Options, sweetie. Just sayin’…if it does get dicey, the drive up to Canada isn’t that bad.”

“Christ, you’re a fucking downer. Is something else happening in Chicago to get your panties in a twist? Is Marv alright?”

“First, Marv’s just fine. He’s avoiding the press right now by playing an incognito card for a few days. I was serious about us being pretty sure that the asshole reporter can’t prove what he’s alleged…but now you drop this little bomb about what’s going on in the Caymans. That’s what I meant about keeping all options open.” Evan knew that Marv would want to know about this turn of events as soon as possible. “If I were you, I’d come into town. Marv may want to see you. Also, we can talk by phone later in the week once something more definite shakes loose.”

“Oh, fuck…alright. I need some warmer clothes and extra cash is probably a good idea. I’m using a fucking credit card from one of my fucking companies that’s hard to tie in with SOR…and me. For what it’s worth, thanks for the advice. I’ll call you…say eight o’clock tonight. As for coming home…probably leave around noon-ish tomorrow.”

“Okay, we’ll talk for sure tonight at eight. Got it.” Evan ended the connection and went back to the kitchen with his empty cup.

After filling up with another shot of caffeine, he took his cell and immediately speed-dialed Marv’s regular cell phone.

“Yeah?”

“We need to talk. Is it convenient if I stop by this morning?” Evan didn’t want to be too specific…just in case.

“You woke me up, so I’m not firing on all cylinders. See you in forty-five minutes at the restaurant here. I got a massage date right afterwards.”

The call ended on Marv’s end before Evan could confirm and say goodbye. ‘If I’m going to make it to the hotel on time, I better jump in the shower right now. Hope he’s buying breakfast.’

~~~~~

‘What a wild ride.’ Kris stirred from a fitful sleep. The Midnight Express – as he pegged the episodic drama at Evan’s apartment nine hours earlier – was an experience he hadn’t expected. What began as an adventurous, harmless re-con ended like the roller coaster at Six Flags. As a certifiable horn dog, Kris considered the visit a success. However, he wasn’t so sure about his sleuthing. Except for the phone call, he couldn’t pinpoint anything substantial. ‘Damn, I wish I knew who called.’

After the morning pit stop, he headed to the kitchen, powered up his laptop and pulled together a morning snack. While nibbling granola and skim milk, he went to Facebook and discovered that Evan had accepted his ‘friend’ request. Suspecting that this would happen, Kris had reviewed his profile when he’d returned home and changed any notations that indicated his interest in journalism, including his major. ‘Evan’s probably snooped my stuff by now,’ he decided, ‘just like I’m going to do his.’ He clicked on Evan’s page, went to the personal pictures – now available because they were cyber buddies – picked out two good headshots and downloaded them. ‘The dude is really picky about the way he looks.’ Kris studied the coiffed hair, lighting, clothing and background. ‘The dude must have posed for a professional photographer.’ He concluded that Evan was a guy who’d never met a mirror he didn’t like.

Next, Kris opened his email and typed a message to Rob with the pictures attached.

Will give you a full report at lunch. Nothing much.

Attached are a couple of pictures lifted from

Evan Jankovic’s Facebook. We’re now ‘friends’. Ha.

At ten o’clock he called Rob’s cell and they arranged to meet for brunch at Café Ba Ba Reeba, a popular Spanish tapas restaurant near Rob’s house up in Yuppyville. An unexpected twist was the news that Rick would be joining them. And since the weather forecast called for a sunny day, Rob suggested they get a table out in the patio. This was a Chicago thing; locals never missed an opportunity to drink and dine al fresco. The location at Armitage and Halsted was win-win; Kris would ride the Brown Line ‘L’ train up to the restaurant, and the guys would walk over from home and not worry about parking. He told Rob there wasn’t much in the way of earthshaking news concerning the Evan visit but looked forward to getting together and meeting Rick. ‘Meeting Rob’s other-half is huge in building a real friendship with both of them.’

It took about forty-minutes to run through Saturday morning clean up: dusting, scrubbing the kitchen area, ditto in the john and dry-mopping the floors. After a shower and everything else in the grooming department – including a shave in honor of Rick’s presence – Kris slipped on his newest pair of Lucky jeans, a Rugby shirt and Doc Martins, and decided he’d do laundry later in the day.

The three-block walk to the ‘L’ station at the Merchandise Mart gave him a few extra minutes to mentally step back and consider everything that had happened this past week. Getting it on with Rob was admittedly a brazen brush at starfucking. Throw into the mix the hunky professor and complicated Evan; it was like winning the trifecta at Arlington Park. Personalities aside, the cast of characters had been a crazy workout for his dick. ‘Ditto with my emotions,’ he thought, walking up to the northbound platform. The ballsy move on Rob had resulted in an unplanned but welcome relationship as a buddy for hopefully a long time. ‘Same with Rick, if we click.’ Signaling interest in Dennis in the Student Center was playing itself out as a work in progress. ‘I’ll find out what’s what on our date tomorrow night.’ As he considered handsome,narcissisticEvan one more time, Kris spotted the train approaching. ‘Definitely damaged merchandise with attitude…and trying to hide whatever’s going on inside his head.’

Ten minutes later, after traveling in a train car populated with a mix of tourists, students and workers with a weekend schedule, Kris got off at Armitage and arrived at Ba Ba Reeba with a few moments to spare for the noon date. He looked around the bar, nodded to the hostess and strolled to the outdoor patio. In a corner were Rob and someone who was probably Rick, both wearing button-down shirts and khakis. This was the first time Kris had seen Rick and he approved of the hunk…it was Saturday and he was dressed in the conservative mode of a successful, thirty-something dude. As he walked forward, Evan noticed several eyes watching Rob’s table. ‘I guess he’s the celebrity in the room today.’

Rob stood up, along with Rick, and said, “Kris, good to see you. Say ‘hi’ to Rick Cole…my partner of ten years.”

“Ten glorious years and counting.” Rick extended his hand and said, “I’ve heard a lot of impressive things about you.”

‘Hmm, impressive at what?’ Kris smiled broadly and shook hands with both men. “Nice to meet you.” In a lower voice, he added, “If you two ever want to expand the family, your baby would be a looker…for sure.”

“We’ve got all the moves down, but our doctor says it’d be very difficult for us to get preggers,” Rick replied as he sat down.

“But we keep trying, just in case.” Rob shrugged, eased back into his chair and gestured for Kris to sit at the empty chair next to him. “We haven’t talked about redecorating the den into a kid’s room…yet.”

“Seriously,” Rick said, “we’ve considered adoption. The only rub is our goofy schedules.”

“I don’t know if I’d ever be ready to be a dad. The responsibility is scary.” Kris was delighted that the opening salvos had gone so well with Rick. ‘I wonder if Rob mentioned that we did the dirty? Probably not. Like he said…that would fall into their don’t-rub-it-in-the-face category.’

“Parenting isn’t for everyone…for sure.” Rob replied. “But back to the business at hand…we just got here and ordered drinks. Rick’s having a bloody mary and I’m drinking Estrella Damm, a Spanish beer.”

“They make this kick-ass bloody with a mix called Uncle Dougie’s Torpedo Juice,” Rick added. “I have no idea who old Dougie is, but his stuff is really wicked.”

“Probably a beer for me.” Noticing the waiter coming with Rob and Rick’s order, Kris took out his driver’s license and put it in front of him. “When at Ba Ba Reeba, et cetera. I’ve never had Spanish beer.”

“Has a very clean taste…like a pilsner from the Czech Republic,” Rob replied.

Kris ordered the beer, after having his I.D. perused, and leaned back in his chair. On top of being with these guys, he loved the early fall weather; just a touch of coolness in the air tamed by the bright sun. With a little prodding, Rick gave Kris a thumbnail of his local upbringing, family – a mother and sister who lived in Chicago, and a younger restaurateur brother living in L.A., who was married to his partner. Rick ended his brief bio with a few details about his job as a trader on the Mercantile Exchange floor.

The beer arrived and Kris took a sip with a little of the foam. “Yum…good brew. So your brother is married. I assume this was before that Prop. Eight brouhaha out there?”

“Mike and Dave exchanged vows during that window of opportunity in 2008. They and about eighteen thousand others in California. I don’t know if Illinois will change the laws any time soon, but Rob and I will take the leap when it happens.”

“That’d be neat…but I don’t think the circus down in Springfield at the State House is ready to deal with it.” Kris didn’t get a chance to talk about gay marriage very often and he was curious. “As far as California’s concerned, I’m sure Prop. Eight will end up with the Supremes after the Appeals Court rules.”

“Exactly what Mike and Dave think,” Rick replied. “Dave’s a lawyer and does pro bono work for the ‘say no’ crowd.”

“Dave’s also from Chicago?”

“Originally from Minneapolis,” Rob said. “He and Mike met in the Navy…the rest, as they say, is history. The first time we visited them in California, the guys were stationed in San Diego. It was the damnedest thing. We arrive and one of their friends meets us…”

“Who happens to be Brad Williams, the movie star,” Rick added. “Turns out all the guys had served in the Navy together in Memphis. Needless to say, we now get the royal treatment when we visit the guys in L.A., Brent – that’s Brad’s real name – partnered with Doug DiMarco, the movie director, and they decided that only one person in their family should be in show biz. Ergo, Brent retired at the top of his film career. He’d also gotten tired of the ‘is he gay or not’ flack that comes with the territory of being a famous actor.”

“What most people don’t know is that he has a law degree from UCLA,” Rob said. “So Brent became a partner in the same law firm as Dave.”

“Wow, talk about being a small world,” Kris replied. ‘Brad-slash-Brent is a certifiable hunk.’

“The reason we’re meandering around this gay family tree is that you may be meeting all four guys,” Rob said. “Mike’s ninety-nine percent sure they’re all flying in for a long weekend and will be at Jerry’s party. Dave has a home on a lake in Minnesota and they’re planning on one final visit before the weather changes. We may go with them if I can get a few days off.”

“Double cool.” In a quick Chicago second, Kris realized his new friends lived on the fast lane, in moderation.

The waiter returned and they ordered a platter of pintxos – bite-sized tapas popular in the bars of Northern Spain – and more conventional brunch items for the main course. Kris decided it was time to hit the topic in question and brought it up. “It is okay to discuss what happened last night?”

“Just so you know, Rick’s completely plugged into the project you undertook with Jankovic and all the background regarding this Revson story.”

“Plugged in is oddly appropriate,” Kris replied with a snicker as he leaned forward. In a lower voice, he added, “Evan Jankovic might be a piece of work…but he’s a complete cutie.”

“And you’re a complete slut,” Rob said. “Just joking. I got the pictures you emailed: handsome guy…but the headshots looked like something an actor in Hollywood would use for getting work.”

“Let’s just say that Mr. Jankovic has a very high opinion of himself,” Kris replied.

The pintxos arrived and Kris shifted gears to replay the events of the previous evening. He started with a play-by-play accounting of the Second Story bar experience. Neither Rob nor Rick had ever been there and they seemed interested in this little slice of cheesy, gay nightlife off Michigan Avenue. While Rick thought it would be fun to check out, Rob was non-committal.

“Probably not the best place for your Eyewitness face to surface,” Kris said.

“Unless there’s a good story to cover…like that bartender.” Rob smiled and picked at another tiny tapas. “It might be a hoot to visit some night, like maybe a stop on our annual Halloween progression party. But back to your adventure. Who lured whom back to his apartment?”

“You might say that I put on my best sex-starved facial expression and Evan wanted to be helpful,” Kris replied. “So we hopped in his Bimmer SUV and drove to 1360. You know, those twin brick apartment buildings on the Drive? 1360 is on Schiller Street.”

“Goodness, this lad is capable of looking sex-starved?” Rick asked with a chuckle.

“I’m in a constant state of malnutrition,” Kris said. “Goes with the territory of being single and twenty-one…but I digress.”

Just then, the waiter arrived with their orders. Kris had the sausage fried paella rice with poached egg, and it looked yummy. A spinach & artichoke crepe was set in front of Rob, and Rick smiled at the heartier piquillo pepper & cheese breakfast panini. Rob and Rick ordered a re-fuel of their drinks while Kris nursed his beer.

“This is our time together and a little mid-day buzz is in order,” Rob said with a wink.

“After lunch, we’re going back for a little college football action and a helluva half-time show.” Rick took a bite of his breakfast sandwich and added, “But let’s get back to the story, before your digressive footnote. I’m all ears.”

“We got back to his place and I excused myself to use the john and check it out. Nada…except grooming products that’d make Zac Efron jealous. Anyway, I return to the living room and it’s lit up like Mass at Holy Name Cathedral. I thought that Evan was trying very hard – whoops, Freudian slip – to come across as a complete romantic.”

“Did he?” Rob asked.

“As a matter of fact…yes, he did. Suckered me in.”

“Suckered?”

“Sigmund Freud again. I won’t bore you with all the sex stuff and money shots,” Kris said with an exaggerated lap of his tongue around his lips.

“Kris, how shocking.” Rob chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s cut to the phone ringing.”

“Right. Well, we were in his bedroom – on the bed, actually – when his phone rang. It’s a wireless extension set that was sitting on the floor.” Kris paused and noticed that both men had stopped eating and were focused on his story. ‘Maybe I should have thrown in a little more X-rated material just for a few more smiles.’ He took a sip of beer and continued, “Evan seemed a little pissed that he’d been interrupted and was quick to answer it. What followed was a very curt answer like ‘yes’ – in a statement rather than a question – and then he told the caller that he couldn’t talk…but he’d call back in the morning. That was the only thing that seemed odd.”

“You mean it certainly wasn’t Marv calling because of the way Evan snapped at whoever was on the other end,” Rob said.

“Maybe it was another guy who Evan’s tight with…in a personal way…and literally was making a bootie call?” Rick shrugged, bit into his shrinking panini and chased it down with his bloody mary.

“It was definitely a pain-in-the-ass call that wasn’t a priority,” Kris replied. “So he disconnected the call and we got back to our…conversation. We ‘talked’ for another half-hour or so and I split.” He smiled and concluded with, “That’s about it, except for one thing.”

Rob and Rick waited silently.

“Okay, at the end of everything, it seemed to become a complete downer for Evan. I mean…the pits. I Googled when I got home and crosschecked references for post-coital blues. Apparently such a thing exists for gay guys…and Evan was really funked out after…you know.”

“Interesting,” Rob said with a pondering expression. “I won’t play with this for a joke…the man has issues. Maybe I should also do a little Googling before halftime.”

“I didn’t feel I was in any danger,” Kris said. “I just felt a little creeped out and…wait a minute. Something just came to mind that might be important.”

Rob set down his beer and motioned Kris to continue.

“When we talked on the phone to set up the date, I distinctly remember Evan mentioning that the telephone number on his card was for his cell. He specifically said he didn’t have a landline.”

“Important just got turned up to a big very in my book,” Rob said.

“Yeah, but the point is…the phone in the bedroom was a second set…sitting in a charger. My mom has a landline at her place; the master is plugged into a phone jack located in the kitchen and the other handset is in her bedroom. I can guarantee you that there was no master phone set in Evan’s place.”

“Completely bizarre, but definitely a missing link.” Rick turned to Rob and added, “That means elusive Evan was probably connected to a phone nearby his bedroom. Like Kris’s mom, my mother has a cordless setup with a couple of extra handsets in her house that pick up calls at least fifty feet away…and through walls.”

“Bingo.” It was like a thunderbolt striking Kris’s mind. “Chances are that the master phone is on the other side of the wall in the bedroom…in another apartment. That must be it.” He paused for a moment and pieced together the fifth floor hallway in his mind. “Evan’s apartment is five twenty two. But next door, the apartment that would be closest to Evan’s is five twenty. And from the distance between the front doors, I’d wager that the other apartment’s a studio.”

“And you’re absolutely sure there was no other phone in Evan’s apartment?” Rob asked.

“One hundred percent. The place is so sparsely furnished that I can mentally inventory everything in all the rooms without a sweat.” Kris wasn’t sure what exactly this revelation meant, but he was ready to help further. “You want me to go back and see Evan again? I could check out the place more thoroughly.”

“No way, Jose. This is getting into a zone of danger that’s not advisable to enter.” Rob looked at Rick for a moment and added, “I’m not saying he’s connected, but somebody in Evan’s world is very capable of doing evil shit…the warehouse fire being a good example. There’s a very valid reason for the police being assigned to me until further notice. But we have no ammo to legally get into that apartment next to Evan’s.”

“Here’s an idea to chew on,” Rick said. “Remember the P.I. dude we met in L.A. at Mike and Dave’s house?”

“Yeah, Oleg Petrov. A big deal with AOI…like a partner…who does work for Dave’s law firm.”

“AOI.” Kris frowned and asked, “That’s the big time international security conglomerate…right?”

“Exactly,” Rob replied. “And Petrov runs their West Coast operations out of L.A. Why don’t I call Dave and see if it’s appropriate for us to talk with Oleg. I know they’ve got a Chicago office and maybe they can sniff around…like real fast…and find a reason for the police to get a search warrant.”

Kris was fascinated at the way the brainstorming had set into motion the genesis of a plan. ‘This is stuff they won’t teach in my journalism class.’

“Buddy, this might be the break we need to loosen the logjam,” Rob said. “You understand why you can’t get involved any further?”

“Got the picture. But if you want to move on this, I’ve got an idea. Evan specifically told me that he’s a regular at Sidetrack’s Sunday happy hour. If someone from AOI wanted to meet him, that’s the place. I remember him saying that a good time to arrive there is around five.”

“Let me call the guys right now,” Rick said, fishing out his Blackberry. “It’s almost eleven-thirty out there and they’re certainly up by now.”

“Mike keeps very late hours at that fancy schmancy restaurant of his on Friday nights so chances are he’s having a leisurely breakfast right about now.” Rob explained.

“Hey, little brother, how they hangin’?” Rick nodded a few times and said to Rob, “Mike says ‘hi’.”

“Hi, back.”

Rick explained the nature of the call and was then handed over to Dave. Kris listened as Rick bullet-pointed the situation and his idea about AOI. Between the busy patio and their corner table, he was sure no one could eavesdrop on the one-sided conversation.

The call ended with Rick saying, “Got it. Give me about a half-hour. Dave…thanks.” He set down his cell and said, “Dave’s going to call Oleg and he’ll contact us on my phone. Kris, is it convenient for you to come back to our place? That way we’ll have all the privacy we need and Oleg can maybe come up with viable suggestions on where to go with this hot potato.”

“The only thing on my to-do list is laundry,” Kris replied. “I’d like to see where this is going…from a professional point of view.”

“You understand this isn’t part of anything that I normally do working on a story, don’tcha?” Rob flagged the waiter and silently lipped ‘check.’ “And I’m not ready to share anything with John Kess right now. What you’ve uncovered is, in my humble opinion, the tip of an iceberg involving major wrongdoing; criminal stuff instigated by some bonafide bad guys. If my hunch is correct, there’s something going on behind the door of that studio apartment five twenty that’s very fishy. The challenge is to dig up something suspicious so the police or feds have something to go on.”

“This is certainly beyond my minor league status.” Kris felt relieved that Rob and Rick were covering his backside.

“What I was going to mention earlier – until you dropped this news – is that the F.B.I. is investigating some curious Cayman Islands bank accounts of Sean O’Reilly’s. This is very Q.T. and I don’t know anything else.” Rob gave the waiter a credit card without looking at the bill and waited for him to leave. “However, I’m hot to trot for the story when the time is right. Kess and I want the exclusive.”

“So why not just give this info to the F.B.I. and see what happens?” Kris asked.

“Because they’re hamstrung on what they can act on. The telephone story makes for good drama but there’s nothing strong enough to move forward. My idea is to dig something up – like in the next forty-eight hours – and have a trusted third party hand it over.”

The waiter returned with a mobile credit card transaction unit and the card. Rob added a tip, entered his PIN and pocketed his card.

“Thank you, Mr. Cooke,” the waiter said as he detached the receipt printout and handed it to him.

Kris was now completely sucked into this growing drama and eager to see how it would play out. He stood up with his partners in this adventure and they walked out of the restaurant. On the street, away from the entrance, Rob motioned for them to huddle.

“This is going to be completely confidential. I have complete trust in you Kris and I hope you feel the same way.”

“Goes without saying.”

“Oleg’s firm does a lot of stuff with various federal authorities…and I’m told it works both ways. Whatever is discussed back at our place will set into motion some very serious stuff and it’s imperative that we let the pros do their work.”

“I have no desire to be a hero,” Kris said. “In fact, I admit to being a complete chicken shit.”

“Join the crowd,” Rob laughed and added, “We’d better haul ass so we can be home in time.”

“Then I suggest we get a cab,” Rick said. “I’m not into power-walking back.” He stepped off the curb and held up his hand.

A Yellow Cab pulled up to the restaurant entrance and let out a couple of young women with several shopping bags. As soon as they paid the fare, the three men got into the back seat and closed the door. As the cab drove away, Kris noticed a black Ford sedan pulling out and following them. It only took five minutes – even with the heavy traffic on the stretch of Armitage Avenue that was home to several very popular boutique shops and restaurants – and they arrived at Rob and Rick’s townhouse on Webster Avenue.

‘Whoa, this is pretty neat,’ Kris thought as he got out of the cab.

He followed the guys up to the front door and saw that the Ford had parked near a fireplug. Inside, he felt right at home. He judged the furnishings and art to be what he’d move onto when he was their age. Hardwood floors but with some well-designed area rugs strategically placed around the rooms. Original contemporary art that was lit by recessed spots…rather than museum posters from the Art Institute.

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Rick suggested. “We can group around the breakfast table when Oleg calls.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Rob took the lead and they walked into the bright, airy kitchen.

“Makes my little kitchen look like a closet in comparison.” Kris admired the space that was primarily a mixture of granite, wood, and glass backsplash tiles, with stainless steel appliances and a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. Conveniently located in the corner was a round table with four compact chairs shaped with a black composite molded material and stainless arms. The nearby bay window looked out on a deck and small garden.

“Hey, my first place had a kitchenette that was hidden by shutter doors,” Rick said as he pointed to the window. “The gardening is my domain. When I get home after a day on the trading floor, puttering around outside is good therapy. Remember, I’m a TV anchor widow.”

“Guess we won’t be watching the first half of the game today,” Rob added. “But I’m still ready for halftime if we can resolve this project with Oleg.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Rick winked and turned to Kris. How about another beer? We’ve got ten minutes before the call.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll chill and just have some water.” Kris felt this was an important moment in his life and he wanted to be sharp.

_______________________

TO BE CONTINUED

Stop by the Jack Scribe Forum and join in the discussion.

http://www.gayauthor...-scribes-forum/

Footnote: Brent Williams, Dave Swenson, Doug DiMarco and Mike Cole (Rick’s younger brother) are the four lead characters in the first two books of the Splash trilogy. Oleg Petrov is the lead character of the third book, Splash on the Web. AOI – Alpha Organization International – is a fictional global security firm, with its worldwide headquarters in Washington, D.C., that first appeared in Domes and Teapots. AOI is a public face for Alpha, an ultra-secret society of powerful GLBT men and women who are dedicated to preserving freedom and the equality of mankind, regardless of race, color, religion…or sexual orientation.