That's the Chicago Way - 9. Chapter 9 - Networking

THAT’S THE CHICAGO WAY

Jack Scribe

Cook County has been a dark pool of political corruption for more than a century. In the last 36 years, 31 sitting or former Chicago aldermen have been convicted of corruption or other crimes.

The Chicago Sun Times – 2010

Chapter 9, NETWORKING

It had been a curious, hurry up and wait morning for Evan. He’d cleaned up, pulled together a preppy Paul Stuart ensemble for the meeting and was out the door in record time. However, when he arrived at the Northbrook Renaissance and called Marv from the hotel lobby, Mrs. Revson said that her husband had been able to move up his massage appointment and wouldn’t be able to see Evan until eleven in the restaurant.

‘Well, isn’t that special,’ he thought with an ample dose of sarcasm. He remembered this line from the very funny Dana Carvey’s Church Lady character in a SNL clip he’d seen on YouTube. ‘However, Marv is my meal ticket…for now…and calling the shots.’ For a moment, Evan wondered again how he was going to extricate himself from this potential time bomb. ‘Before the poop hits the paddles.’ There were no easy answers. ‘And they aren’t going to get any easier.’

After buying a copy of the ‘incredible shrinking’ and thin-ish Saturday Tribune in the gift shop, he went to the generic three-meal restaurant that full-service hotels had to maintain. He mentally wrote off the barfy look as one of those decors that try too hard to be cheery. A room that kicked a guy in the nuts and said, “Smile.” In his case, it made Evan’s sour mood even bleaker. He put on his sunglasses to lessen the visual assault and was greeted by the hostess. She was a skinny teen, with a scripted perky personality, who was dressed in a uniform that matched the interior design. ‘Yuck.’ However, he passively smiled at her as he was seated at a table away from the general traffic and said, “I’m sure I’ll enjoy the experience.”

Breakfast was basic scrambled eggs and toast. Evan decided something simple might calm him a bit. If he wanted to match his internal anger, huevos rancheros smothered with cooked salsa would have been more appropriate.

The only highlight of his holding pattern campout was discovering in the Trib movie listings that Henri-Georges Clouzot’s Inferno, a 1964 psychedelic psychothriller, was playing at the Gene Siskel Film Center. He was sure that business with the boss wouldn’t drag out and he’d be able to make the late afternoon showing. ‘Nothing like a psycho melt-down to make your day.’ He shook his head and smiled. Evan hadn’t planned anything for the evening and decided to wing it on the conservative side. ‘Save my energy for Sidetrack’s tomorrow.’

Marv arrived just after eleven and joined him without an apology. Evan thought Marv looked a little goofy in his Panama hat and sunglasses but kept that to himself. ‘Doesn’t he know that nobody wears a straw hat or white after Labor Day?’

While the server was pouring coffee, Marv described his little stay at the hotel as a terrific forty-eight hour vacation; but they got down to business as soon as they were left alone. Although dark glasses hid Marv’s eyes, Evan knew his boss was pissed as he passed along all that he’d been told: Sean O’Reilly’s alarming news about the U.S. government having a look-see into Sean’s Cayman Islands bank accounts. At the end of the replay, Marv – with nostrils flaring and spittle spraying – snarled, “How the fuck did that happen?”

“Boss, he doesn’t have the foggiest idea…it obviously didn’t come from us. But I let him know it was his problem to solve.”

“That’s a given.” Marv looked around to make sure no one was interested in his conversation.

Purposely speaking slowly and in almost a whisper, Evan repeated his advice about Sean’s need to find a Caymans lawyer and the suggestion that he slip into town on Sunday to pick up more clothes, his passport and cash…just in case it was time to be ‘fluid.’ “Sean got that he should be in Chicago tomorrow. I was just being tactful.”

With a nod, Marv grunted and wiped his mouth.

“I also told him to make some time available tomorrow if you wanted to meet with him…somewhere quiet.” Evan took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and judged that Marv had moved into a dark, meditative mood. “My feeling is that O’Reilly’s going down with the Feds and therefore it’s best if we all keep our distance. I only thought you two might need time to work out contingency plans – face to face – for whatever.” He wanted to add that he didn’t want to be part of a meeting, but decided to take a pass.

Marv drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

“Whatever you decide. He’s calling me tonight at eight. I told him to hang loose about the rest of the weekend until we talked.”

“Okay, here’s what you do,” Marv replied with composure. “Tell him to meet me at the North Branch Forest Preserve, just off the Edens Expressway, in the LaBagh Woods parking lot at six tomorrow evening. He knows where it is. That way he can pick up whatever he needs before we talk, and then be outta there a little later for the trip back up north.” He pushed back his chair and put his hands on the arms. “Let him know that I understand the pressures and it’ll all work out. Got it?”

“I can handle it. By the way, I didn’t see anything in the Trib about…you know. Are you coming into work on Monday?”

“Yeah…life goes on and I can’t sweat the small stuff. Thanks for the heads up, kid. I’ll see you at work.”

Evan watched as Marv got up, straightened his hat and walked away. ‘No reason to hang around here,’ he thought, flagging the waitress for the check. When it came, he added a 20% tip, wrote down Marv’s room number, and signed his name. ‘What the hell, the room is on my card anyway.’ He felt relieved that he wasn’t being dragged into the O’Reilly ‘problem’ any further.

During the return drive, Evan decided to kill a little time and check out a few of the boutique shops around Armitage and Halsted. As he neared the intersection, he noticed a cab in front of Café Ba Ba Reeba and three guys were getting in. By the time he was in clear visual range, two of the men were already inside the cab. Evan slowed down when he recognized the third of the trio. ‘It’s that TV anchorman…Rob Cooke. I wonder what he’s up to…other than just lunch?’

He pulled over out of traffic and watched Cooke get into the cab. ‘Maybe I should follow and see where he’s going and who’s with him.’ However, in the rearview mirror he saw a black Ford ease away from the curb and follow the cab. Evan knew they were cops and he decided to forget about trailing behind. ‘The last thing I need is to be on the Chicago Police Department radar.’ He’d heard that both Kess and Cooke had protection since the ‘incidents’ and this confirmed it.

Since the space that the unmarked police car had occupied was now available and legal, Evan backed up and parallel parked. ‘Maybe I’ll find some good sales going on at Rugby Ralph Lauren or Kiehl’s. But first I’ll go across the street and start at Barney’s CO-OP.’ His mood was slowly mellowing. ‘A little shopping spree might be in order.’

~~~~~

Promptly at 2:00 p.m., Rick’s phone – sitting in the center of the kitchen table – rang. Rob looked at the screen before Rick picked it up and noticed it didn’t show a Call ID – only [O]. He considered it appropriate for Oleg to use a phone that didn’t announce his number. ‘Not even a private one.’

“This is Rick.” There was a pause and Rick nodded with a lipped, “It’s him.”

Kris was sitting at attention, looking thoroughly absorbed. He turned to Rob and whispered, “This is like getting to sit at the adults’ table.”

Rob smiled and gave Kris’s knee a reassuring squeeze.

“Oleg, I’m with Rob and a friend of ours…Kris Lamacki. Let me put Rob on since he’s the man involved along with Kris.”

“Hey, buddy,” Rob said, “thanks for calling.”

“No problem. Giorgio and I are just lounging around the house…chillin’ as the young pups say.”

“I think it works for us old dudes, too. At this point, what all do you know about our situation here in Chicago?”

“A few salient points concerning the exposé you’re working on with this reporter, John Kess, which resulted in those personal threats and a suspicious fire. Then I reviewed the NewWord website and have a good basic feeling for the story. Of course, I’m aware of Revson’s older brother and his fiddling with Chicago politicians…but that’s nothing new in your fair city.” Oleg laughed and added, “Some things don’t change and Chicago politics is one of them.”

“Point taken,” Rob said with a returned chuckle. “Who knows…maybe the new mayor will change that.”

“Don’t hold your breath. But I digress…how exactly can I help you guys?”

“I’m putting Kris on the phone. He played super sleuth for me and met up with this too-smooth-for-his-own-good assistant of Marv Revson – Evan Jankovic. What he discovered ran up a big red flag.” Rob handed the phone to Kris and said, “Tell Oleg a little about yourself as well.”

Kris took the cell and nodded to Rob. He introduced himself, tossed out a short thumbnail of his school and professional interests, and reviewed the events of the past 24 hours. Rob was amused that Kris was able to segue from living room to bedroom without dropping any salacious details…but still communicating what went on. Rob caught Rick’s attention and they shared a knowing smile.

After relating the discovery of the bedroom telephone’s lack of a landline, Kris closed by saying, “So that’s it, Oleg. I think there’s something serious going on in the apartment next door…but Rob thinks, wisely I might add, that I’m now officially over my head.” He nodded twice. “Here he is.”

“What do you make of this?” Rob asked.

“First…if Kris ever changes his mind about a career, I’d hire him in a second. Sharp guy. But specifically, it sounds like that studio apartment next to Evan’s needs a look-see by a professional, on the sly…and we do ‘sly’ very well. You want some help?”

“That’s my thinking and, yes, we want help…although we’d have to figure out some sort of discount on fees. This will be coming out of my own pocket.” Rob wanted to get the pesky issue of money out of the way.

“Don’t worry about that. AOI has a comfortable fund available to handle worthy pro-bono projects and this certainly falls into the worthy category. But we have to move fast. Any thoughts about how we can observe Evan?”

“Apparently Evan loves the Sunday happy hour at Sidetrack’s…a happening bar up in Boystown. He likes to get there around five and cruise the cute ones.” Rob looked at Kris to get confirmation of the details. He whispered to Kris, “That’s a compliment.”

Kris grinned and got a little flushed in the face.

“So I guess it’s fair to assume that Evan likes young dudes like your friend, Kris?”

“The preppier the better.” He was still keeping Kris in eye contact but decided not to explain this comment. ‘One more shade of red and Kris will explode.’

“AOI has a sharp, goodlooking guy in the Chicago office – he’s twenty-eight but looks more like he’s twenty-one – who would be a good man to sniff this out for you. Why don’t I arrange for him to be at Sidetrack’s tomorrow and see if horny Evan wants to play? I’m not sure how this will go down but I’m not ready to break into this studio apartment until we have more info. That’s where my man on the scene comes in.”

“Just a minute…I think I’ve got an idea to bounce around.” Rob put down the phone and said to Kris, “If you don’t mind, how about relating to Oleg the moody freak-out that Evan pulled on you. And don’t be embarrassed about details that might be considered a little personal…we’re all friends here.”

“Um, okay.” Kris took the cell and said, “Oleg, Kris again. What Rob is referring to is Evan has a real problem after…getting off. Something that I pegged as post-coital blues…and confirmed later on Google. The bottom line…if you’ll excuse the pun…is that I was fucking the crap out of him, and after his orgasm…he almost freaked out. It took him several minutes to recover and then he was just a moody dishrag. I was happy to get outta there.” He handled the cell back to Rob.

Rob smiled at the clinical comments mixed with locker room lingo that Kris, whose face was now shaded in deep red, had provided. “Does that help you out?”

“Other than getting a hard-on?”

Rob shared a laugh with Oleg.

“Actually, this does help. And if I wasn’t in a committed relationship, I might like to meet Kris on a very personal level. As it is, we’ll all have to get together on my next trip back east…for dinner.”

“Getting together after this is over would be good.” Rob nodded to Kris and Rick with a wink.

“You got it. Right now, however, I don’t want to mention the AOI guy's name…it’ll work better this way. Another point in our favor – this Evan dude obviously prefers to be a bottom and my man is best as a top…but don’t ask me how these details get into the personnel files at H.R.”

“Goes under the title of ‘too much information’,” Rob replied. “But you must have very flexible company guidelines.”

“Exactly. In our work you have to.” Oleg cleared his throat and continued, “I’m going to assign my man to handle this situation and we’ll talk first thing Monday morning…say, ten o’clock your time.”

“That works. I don’t have to get into the station until early afternoon.”

“It is very important Kris that understands he’s not to get involved any further. No more phone calls, meetings, emails, Facebook comments…this could get serious and I don’t want to risk a bystander being harmed. Probably there’s nothing to worry about…but the old maxim ‘better to be safe than sorry’ applies.”

“Understand.”

“Now, one more thing. From the newspaper website, I know that Sean O’Reilly’s the other guy who’s in this scam…and that he’s the mayor’s cousin. But what’s this about you uncovering bank accounts in the Caymans and how’s Jerry Franklin involved?”

“With Jerry’s help and files from an old consulting job his firm did for O’Reilly a couple of years ago, we found evidence that Sean was, or is using several banks down there. I shared this with the key reporter on the story and he passed on the info to the Feds…a good friend of his in the Chicago FBI office. By the way, I got Jerry’s okay to share this confidential info with you. He says, ‘hi’ by the way.”

“Reminds me, I’ve to call Jerry…we usually just text or leave messages.” Oleg paused for a moment before continuing. “Good, I can work with that and find out the status. What would be helpful is for Kris to send me an email – maybe from your place – and list all the details. Names, addresses, phone numbers…et cetera. Anything he can remember in bullet points that will help me construct a plan. And you can add anything from your perspective…like the Caymans discovery.”

“We’ll get on it right now…expect it within a half-hour,” Rob replied. “And unless something breaks, we can talk Monday at ten my time.” He made a mental note to include his cell phone number in the email.

“I love nailing assholes who are screwing around with the public’s money. And when you throw into the mix some Soprano-types who like to get physical…out here I could sell a screen treatment of this story over coffee.”

“When this is over, maybe John Kess – the reporter who’s really pulled this together – might want to talk to someone in Hollywood. I know I’d pay to see it.”

“One step at a time, Rob. I gotta get back to Giorgio before he gets pissed. After I get the email, I’ll take it from here. Bu-bye.”

Rob turned off the phone and said, “Kris and I need to do a little homework for Oleg. He’d like an email with all the details we’ve discussed.”

“Why don’t you guys take over the den and I’ll do a little housework,” Rick said. “But first, can you give us a sneak preview of what Oleg’s planning?”

“Absolutely. First, I need for you, Kris, to understand something. Oleg wants you to back away from having anything to do with Evan…it’s that important.”

“Okay…I get the picture,” Kris said. “As I said earlier, I admit to being in over my head.”

“Basically, here’s the confidential plan – I mean, this goes no further than this table. Oleg has a young, goodlooking guy in their Chicago office who’ll be at Sidetrack’s tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully he’ll meet up with Evan at the bar and there’ll be a replay of what happened last night at that infamous apartment on Lake Shore Drive…post-coital bullshit and all. I don’t know much more…just that Oleg wants a professional from his firm to scope out what’s going on in Evan’s apartment and the studio next door.”

“Whoa, I want to see the pictures,” Rick replied. “You guys get in there and I’ll clean the kitchen.” He stood up and pulled Rob into his arms. “Just so you know, I’m still expecting a show at half-time.”

“Hon…we’re on schedule. As soon as Kris and I finish the email, he’s on his way and we’re on ours.” At a less-complicated time and place, Rob might have suggested that he and Rick should share a Kris sandwich. ‘But that window of opportunity has vanished…and probably it’s just as well.’ There was no doubt that they’d all become very good friends. ‘And friends don’t fuck around.’

By 3:00 p.m., the email had been sent, the kitchen was clean – along with the patio deck – and Kris said ‘goodbye.’

Rick stood with Rob at the door as they watched Kris walk down the stoop stairway and out of sight. Kris had turned down an offer of a ride home and opted to walk over to the ‘L’ station.

“Now that’s what I call an interesting guy who not-so-innocently got involved in a very unusual situation,” Rick said. “You just never know what’ll happen when you get out of bed in the morning.”

Rob pondered on the former but decided to link the conversation to the latter. “Speaking of bed, why don’t we shed these clothes and explore that halftime you mentioned earlier.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Rick took Rob’s hand and they walked upstairs to their master bedroom. The blinds were still drawn.

They were at an age where it was fun to purposely undress each other with care and exploration. The randiness was still there…but making love, slowly and thoughtfully at the beginning added a dimension to their long relationship. Especially on those cherished weekends. Rob wished their career schedules were more compatible with their personal lives, but that wouldn’t change in the foreseeable future.

Each took turns unbuttoning and removing their oxford dress shirts and releasing the clasps of their pants. After the zippers were drawn down, they stepped out of the puddle of khaki and embraced each other. Rick, in his usual commando mode, stood there at full-mast. Rob removed his boxer briefs and freed up his erection.

“Hey, buddy, you look mighty fine,” Rob said in a gruff whisper as he wrapped his arms around Rick.

They pressed their bodies together and Rob deliciously felt Rick’s hard cock up against his. Without looking, he was sure that Rick was probably leaking a little in anticipation of their ‘halftime.’ He took Rick’s hand and they strolled over to the bed, still unmade from that morning. As they’d done many times before, they sat down and removed their socks before getting comfortable.

Rick leaned back on his elbows and smiled while Rob rubbed his chest and lingered on his nipple bar piercings. “Go for it.” Rick scooted around so his head was at one diagonal of the mattress and his spread out legs at the other. “I love you.”

“Love you, always.” Rob reached over to the bedside table drawer and retrieved their handy bottle of lube. He squirted a small amount of lube on his fingers, placed the bottle nearby and looked at Rick for a moment. He felt so lucky to have met him and fallen in love. ‘And for us to be together all this time and still be this way.’ Rob lowered himself and buried his face in Rick’s pit. He flicked his tongue around and finally moved on to his jewelry while his hand massaged Rick’s balls. By the time he’d reached Rick’s lips, his finger had found its way to Rick’s anus.

They traded tongue assaults and Rob teased Rick’s pucker with one finger; there was just enough lube to ease one finger in without any resistance. By the time they were kissing each other with a ferocious hardness, Rob was stroking Rick’s prostate.

Rick groaned and signaled he wanted more than just a finger.

‘Oh, yes, this is going to be quite a halftime.’ Rob found the lube, poured out an ample portion in his free hand and applied it evenly from his glans to his base. ‘Just enough slickness to make my man happy.’

Now on his knees, he moved between Rick’s legs and waited as his partner rocked back for a moment and placed his legs on Rob’s shoulders. He leaned in and kissed Rick again as he inserted two fingers slowly in Rick’s willing hole. After he was satisfied that the area was loosened, he guided himself into the ‘Promised Land.’ It was a move they both did well and Rob was sure he would experience this later in the afternoon. ‘If I’m a good boy.’

~~~~~

On the way to the ‘L’, Kris decided to detour a few blocks and check out the shops along Armitage. He didn’t get up this way that often and thought it would be fun to check out one store in particular – Rugby Ralph Lauren – and buy a new pair of jeans. ‘Maybe a sweater if they’ve got some good deals.’ He remembered seeing Barney’s CO-OP near the restaurant and decided to explore that store as well.

He wasn’t in a hurry and strolled in and out of several shops before arriving at Rugby. Kris went inside and immediately found the men’s jeans section. The ‘relaxed straight’ style seemed the best for him and there was a pair of size 30x30 that he wanted to try on. He walked to a changing room door and waited for the lock to be released. ‘Ninety eight bucks is a lot for jeans…but I feel like treating myself today.’

Inside, he closed and locked the door, took off his bulky shirt and hung it up. He admired his Lucky jeans, studied the cut and how he looked in the mirror. ‘Let’s see what Rugby’s all about.’ Kris sat down, took off his shoes and pulled off his Lucky’s. They were a darker shade than the Rugby jeans and that was a good sign. ‘There’s just enough of a wear look to make the Rugby look different.’ As he stood up, the cubicle door next to him opened and slammed closed, and he heard a voice shout out to the clerk.

“Darling, these just aren’t right in the waist,” the ‘voice’ said.

“Crap.” And that’s almost what Kris did when he realized that the ‘voice’ was Evan. ‘Here I am, standing in my briefs and socks…almost with my dick in my hand…and Evan’s outside.’

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jankovic. Would you like to try on another style?”

“Just don’t have time,” Evan replied. “Ring up the other stuff so I can get out of here. Gotta catch a movie.”

“Maybe another time, sir.”

Kris looked at his near-naked image and literally felt his dick shrink to pre-pubescent size underneath his briefs. It was one of those moments when he wondered if he’d ever be able to get an erection again. He moved closer to the door and listened.

“What are you seeing?” the clerk asked.

“A classic French flick down at the Siskel.”

Kris started to relax, physically and mentally. ‘That asshole will vanish in a few minutes.’

“Please sign this and you’re gone.”

Kris heard a rustle of paper and assumed that whatever Evan had purchased was being bagged.

Suddenly someone knocked on his door. “Sir, how’s everything going?” It was another clerk.

‘Oh, fuck.’ Kris took a deep breath and decided to answer in a falsetto voice. “Just need a minute, thanks.” He breathed in again. ‘Jeez, how lame is that?’

“Thank you, again,” said the clerk at the counter.

“You got it, sweetheart.”

Except for the background music, the store was suddenly quiet. Kris heard the door open and sounds of the street drift in for a few moments. There was no further conversation and he was pretty sure that no one else but the two clerks in the store. ‘Okay, I think the situation’s under control.’ He took the Rugby jeans and slipped them on. ‘Not bad…in fact, they look damned fine.’ The crotch grabbed ‘just so’ and he knew his buns looked good.

Just then he heard the door open. ‘Fuck, is he back?’

“Good afternoon, may I show you a blouse we’ve just received?”

Blouse?

‘Must be someone else…I don’t think Evan’s into blouses.’ Kris unlocked the door and opened it just an inch. In the corner was a very attractive woman with clerk number one; his door-knocking clerk was sorting out shirts by the counter, she looked up and smiled.

“How’s the fit?”

“I think they’re okay.” Kris wasn’t ready to walk out – sans shirt – but didn’t know how to get out of leaving the changing room. He opened the door wider and said, “If you don’t mind my chest, see what you think.”

The clerk walked over and Kris, with his face becoming flush again, modeled the jeans.

“Good choice,” the clerk said with a smile. “You’ll be getting a lot of stares in those.”

“As long as it’s the right guy.” Kris smiled and watched as the clerk’s face struggled to maintain a professional smile.

“Oh, you’re good,” she replied with a huge laugh. “Those jeans will turn a lot of heads.”

“Okay, sale made. Let me change and then you can show me some sweaters.” Kris grinned and closed the door.

He looked at the jeans and decided that the clerk wasn’t just blowing smoke. Kris quickly changed back into his Lucky’s, shirt and shoes. He paused for a moment and slowly opened the door. It pissed him off that Evan’s earlier presence bugged him so much. ‘Here I am, just grooving from being with Rob and Rick…and I almost run into him.’ It was another example of seeing the same people while living in a city of several millions. ‘Whoever coined shit happens was right.’

The clerk showed him a couple of sweaters but Kris thought that he’d find something similar and much less expensive at Nordstrom’s Rack. ‘Well-fitting jeans are a real find; a sweater just hangs there…unless you’re into doing a tight muscle thing.’ He figured his dad wouldn’t mind the extra bucks on this month’s bill when he pulled out his credit card and watched as the clerk handled the sale.

With bag in hand, he paused for a moment and looked outside the store window. Kris knew Evan was long gone by now but he was still wound up. He walked outside and decided to let it go. ‘It’s too nice of a day to get all bent out of shape.’ However, he decided not to tempt fate and took a pass at visiting Barney’s CO-OP. ‘At a hundred bucks a pop for jeans, this is enough shopping for one day.’

As he stood on the platform of the Armitage ‘L’ station, waiting for the brown line train, he replayed the incredible day in his mind…without the Evan ‘static’ at Rugby’s.

First and highest on his list was the budding friendship with Rob, that now included Rick in the mix. Kris felt the meeting in their home negated his ‘other person’ status from the one-time encounter earlier in the week. ‘Would I hit on him again? You bet your sweet bippy.’ However, he felt a little embarrassed about sharing the details – albeit somewhat sanitized – about his evening with Evan. ‘Jeez, it bugs me that Evan keeps coming up in my mind. He’s definitely history.’

Intriguing was the only word he could think of to describe the new character in this mix. ‘Oleg Petrov. I must Google him when I get home. Also, AOI.’ Between the luncheon with Jerry Franklin a few days earlier and the telephone conversation with Oleg, Kris decided he was in some pretty heady company, certainly for someone barely twenty-one and still trying to figure things out. ‘Or maybe this is something that I’ll be doing forever…figuring things out. I hope it becomes easier as I get older. Must be, huh?’

He looked up the tracks and saw his train in the distance – at least the sign looked brown – swaying as it charged in. Kris checked the station LED clock and noted it was 4:12. He was too wound up to do anything else that day. ‘Might as well wash the jeans and order in.’ In the excitement of the day, he’d only just remembered that he and Dennis were meeting the next evening.

Kris stepped back as the train rolled into the station. The doors parted, waited for the disembarking passengers to get off and boarded. He slid into a nearby seat as the train moved forward and looked out at the passing building rooftops. Thoughts turned to the hunky professor. ‘What’s happening there?’ Kris wondered if Dennis was just another mountain he’d climbed and that was that. ‘He’s cute and all…but maybe it was just a chance meeting.’

Three stops later he arrived at a very quiet Merchandise Mart; a condition very different from the thousands of workers who trooped in and out of that building during the week. Kris walked through the turnstile and down the stairs. As soon as he was on the street, he got out his phone and punched in the number that had been memorized for several years. Four rings and it went into voicemail.

“Hi, Mom, Just checking in.” Kris paused for a minute and added, “Nothing important except that I love you. I’m staying in tonight to do laundry. Gimme a call.”

Kris checked his cell for messages and happily didn’t see any trace of the infamous Evan in his records. Nothing from Rob…but Dennis had called. It never ceased to amaze Kris how he could miss calls in this day and age. ‘I guess some buildings just aren’t phone friendly,’ he mused. He highlighted the message and listened to his professor friend tell him that he had to cancel their date for Sunday. Something’s come up...sorry we couldn’t talk.

‘Yeah, sure.’ Kris started his walk to the condo. ‘Probably more like he had a good time and it was time to move on. Fuck ’em and leave ’em.’ This wasn’t the first time and he knew it wouldn’t be the last time. ‘Just part of being in the gay ole world.’

Sunday was now free, but he decided he would stay in and watch Mad Men. ‘Probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to also read a few extra chapters for the communications course.’

In a way, Kris felt relieved. It would have been fun – on a less complicated weekend – to meet up with Dennis. However, he was too wrapped up in this unfolding drama. ‘And shit will happen…count on it.’

_________________________

TO BE CONTINUED

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