he lights at Molly's were on so bright that the long
wood-paneled room was as bright as the dying day outside. Bernie
wandered down through the crowded table towards the bar, as he
had so often over the last few years. He sat at his accustomed
stool at the far end of the bar, and fond his accustomed
companion already their despite the early hour.
Sal, the bartender wandered over. "Well if isn't my most popular
customer," he said. He poured Bernie a complimentary glass of
wine with a knowing wink.
Bernie ignored this jocularity with long-practiced ease. It had
been a long, long time since his own peculiar situation had been
a source of amusement to him. It had been a long, long time
since life seemed very much more than a habit that had long
outlived it purpose. He sipped his drink for a few moments,
considering his myth-defying reflection in the mirror behind the
bar.
Sal pottered back towards the taps with one hind hand resting on
the bar, to ease the pain in his gouty foot. Bernie watched him
go with a considering gaze. Old age looked like an all round bad
proposition, for all of Sal's apparent good cheer. His partner
Martin, no younger and somewhat less hale lived house-bond in
the apartment above the bar. The two of them had become
something of a symbol of queer fidelity since before gay men
could meet openly along the esplanade…
"Well, I don't get it Bern'," Chaz said with a slight shrug of
his massive shoulders.
Bernie smiled and raised his glass. "I normally drink for free."
"You could make a bloody fortune if you charged."
Chaz obviously considered leaving it at that. Like most guys he
was always keen on getting a blow job, and didn't even want to
understand why a guy would won't to give one except to make
cash. But Bernie had some kind of ethics, he got what he needed
from it and they paid in their own way - maybe too much, some of
them.
"Aye, well," Chaz said with a slight scowl creasing his plain,
flat face. "It does give you a bad rep. Like you're desperate or
some kinda weirdo, but you're alright…."
Bernie scanned the club, smiling slightly at the cut-off
compliment that was the best Chaz could muster; Chaz who stacked
on muscle to compensate for his bland looks, and would never
kiss a guy because it was too intimate. He'd got in the habit of
hanging with Chaz because they were never in danger of becoming
friends, yet somehow they had become very close to just that.
"It's not because your… you know, positive?" Chaz asked.
Bernie smoothed back his over-grown fringe. "No it's not that;
it's just a kink Chaz… deal."
"You're not looking that good, mate. You been tested?"
It was early in the night and the lights were up high for the
tail end of the tourist crowd that filled the Molly's during the
day. Bernie had no doubt that he was looking a bit rough. He'd
had to work full shifts at the BP station for the better part of
a week. It was rare to find a decent job that let him take only
night shifts and he couldn't risk it by taking up the offers the
inevitable got from customers that knew his predilection. Bloody
closed circuit cameras made that too much of a risk.
Bernie drummed his fingers on the dark wood of the bar and
glared at the American family sat at a nearby table, tucking
into their well-cooked burgers. He was almost tempted to
proposition Chaz, but it was his policy not to feed on a crony,
much less on that was almost a friend… was a friend. For a young
guy as painfully macho as Chaz, the fact that he was expressing
any concern at all meant things had already gone that far.
A young bloke came in, nervous like a first timer. If the
tightness of his T-shirt wasn't enough the rainbow triangle
key-ring hanging conspicuously from his Levis left no room for
doubt. He looked nervously about the nearly empty room and
headed for the toilets. Bernie drops none-to-nonchalantly from
his barstool and followed.
"Jesus fucking Christ," the young noob said as he collapsed
backwards onto the loo seat.
Bernie watched with jaded eyes. He felt the strength of youth
coursing through him. This one had taken a harder than usual
hit, but as with most guys in this situation he was more
inclined to be impressed than worried. Bernie considerately
zipped up for him. He was young and fit and would feel good as
new within a few days. He only blew older or sicker looking guys
if he was desperate, or wouldn't lose sleep if they dropped dead
in their sleep that night.
"Welcome to Molly's," he said as he exited the cubicle.
Bernie ran his hands under the tap and pushed back his blandly
beige hair. His grey Tee and jeans still looked sagging and
none-too-clean, but he was pleased to see that the rest of him
had perked up considerably. The lines and shadows on his face
had faded and his back had lost its hunch. The main difference,
as ever, was in the eyes - edging from dull brown to
gold-flecked hazel. There was still a slight stiffness in his
joint but one more excursion to the john would sort that out.
Handsome again, edging towards his hundredth year, and living a
life as long as it was futile. A slight smile dropped from
Bernie's face as he regarded his reflection. A familiar kind of
desolation beckoned. Bernie tore his eyes way, he need some
company, some distraction… He passed a regular customer coming
in and exchanged a knowing look before going back to join Chaz.
"Hey," Chaz exclaimed. "You look…"
Bernie fixed his eyes on Chaz's. "…Just the same as ever," he
said.
Chaz's very straight-forward mind accepted the adjustment
without pause. The slight frown smoothed from his face.
"I gotcha a refill," Chaz said.
"Chaz, Chaz, Chaz," Bernie chided. "Your one of the few blokes
here who doesn't owe me any favors."
"Yeah, should I be offended?"
Chaz had meant the comment lightly, but on consideration Bernie
could see that it became serious question as he said it. Poor
kid was even more severely insecure than most of the preening
proles that passed through Molly's doors.
"Buff boy like you doesn't need any favors from an old slut like
me."
Bernie was distressed to find that his own wry reply was a
little more believable than was comfortable. He also noticed
that Sal was watching them was a little too much interest.
Wondered what Chaz had been confiding in him… a question that
was quickly answered.
"You ever think about settling down?" Chaz asked while staring
at his drink with a fixed attention normally reserved for
international rugby matches.
"No," Bernie replied immediately. "One guy's never going to be
enough for me."
There was a long silence while the Chaz mulled that one over.
Bernie was surprised to find himself hesitate also. After all,
Chaz was a nice guy, not clingy, and let's face it… not all that
bright. If a succubus could every settle down with anyone
without being found out, Chaz was made to order. Besides, Bernie
was loath to admit that he actually rather liked the guy.
"Things could be, you know… open," Chaz said haltingly.
Bernie looked over at Chaz's hunched shoulders and replied. "I
sleep all day, hold a dead end job or no job at all, blow off
dozens of strange guys a month and am widely disdained as a
weirdo and a slut. I have unbelievable moods swings, keep
secrets, have dangerous enemies, and one day I'll just vanish
out of your life without ever telling you why."
"Is that a yes?" Chaz said, in a way that suggested he hadn't
really been listening.
People were beginning to drift in and Bernie could afford to be
particular now. A century developing his technique meant that
those interested were prepared to follow his rules. If he didn't
give the nod when they made eye contact, they didn't make a
nuisance out of themselves.
"You know, Chaz," Bernie said softly. "I'm never, ever going to
give you a blow job. I like too much for that."
Most guys wouldn't have been able to leave that alone, but Chaz
simply disregarded anything in his life that didn't make sense -
it was one of his more appealing qualities.
"So you won't blow and I won't kiss, that still leaves us plenty
of territory. I've got a nice place on the esplanade…"
"And everything I own fits in one small suitcase… you know this
might just work out."
Chaz was struggling not to look too smug. Bernie scanned the
crowd, looking for someone who seemed robust. Too many
suspicious deaths would mean he had to move on to some other
town. The lights dimmed as the transformation from tourist trap
to gay bar was officially made for the evening.
"Champagne on the house, darlings" Sal said as he set to tall
flutes before them.
"Why Sal, you old romantic," Bernie said. "You been helping
young Chaz become the glittering honey trap that he so obviously
is?"
Chaz turned a deep beetroot red as he glared them both for the
attention they were drawing.
"Ah Bern' you're not quite the bitter old vamp you pretend to
be, I think," Sal said.
Chaz slipped off his seat and headed for the loo leaving Bernie
and Sal together at the dark end of the bar.
"You know full well that I'm all three of those things," Bernie
said quietly, as he watched the bubble rise in the cheap,
yellow-tinged champagne.
"Sal leaned his elbows on the bar and sighed. "You know my
counsel Bern'," he said. "One day you see through it all and ya
just stop."
"…And you get old and frail and die."
Sal leaned forward ad clasped Bern on the shoulder. "You find
somebody, you settle down, you live a mortal span on top of all
the years you've stolen. And you're happy Ber'n like Marty and I
am. The more you take from these men the more it poisons you,
the more despair drags you down. Next you'll be like I was
desperate to make more like yourself as if that will make you
any less alone. Don't do it, Bern', don't pass the curse along."
Bernie flicked his eyes around to ensure no-one was listening.
"So is that your plan -- to show me the error of my ways."
Sal shrugged as he leaned back. "I got you into this all those
years ago. And when you came into town I knew that this was my
chance to show you the way out as well."
"Chaz?" Bernie said incredulously.
Sal shrugged. "He has that deep, calm core so that he could know
the truth and love you anyway."
Sal left him to think about that as he went to serve the 5:30
rush. Bernie shook his head. The only idea more ridiculous than
telling anyone the truth would be falling in love with someone
so foolish and shallow as Chaz Barnaby. Or that Chaz Barnaby
would fall for anyone as foolish and shallow as himself.
As Bernie watched Chaz amble back towards his usual seat, for
the first time… he wondered.