I lifted my right leg and rested it on Walter’s chair. We looked deep into each other’s eyes as he took my foot in his hand and pressed it against his groin. I wiggled my toes, and he rubbed his dick against my foot.
His mouth opened and he shivered. “Dios mío!”
“Did you come?”
He nodded sheepishly.
“Oh, Walter,” I said. “Now I’ll have to clean you up.”
I wet a clean dishcloth and brought it over to Walter. His white briefs were soaked with jism. “Here, I’ll help you stand up.” Once he was on his feet, I peeled the soggy briefs down and attacked his dick with the wet cloth.
“Ow! Take it easy!”
“It’s your punishment,” I said. “For coming before I could suck you, or feel your dick up my ass.” I rubbed him roughly, and he squirmed. “Take it like a man, Loredo.”
“I’ll take you.” He reached for my dick, which hardened again at his touch, and I leaned close and kissed him.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I said.
I led him up the stairs and helped him into bed. By the time I had my briefs off and turned back to him, he was already asleep. I cuddled next to him, my dick up against his ass, and drifted off to sleep myself.
Smoke Rings
Sunday we slept in, then read the paper together in bed. Around one o’clock we started getting ready to go to my parents’ house. “You know, you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to,” I said.
“Do you want me to come?”
I looked at him sitting there on the side of the bed in his slacks, with his shirt ready to be buttoned. “It’s just postponing the inevitable if you don’t. So I guess you should.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m in love with you, and sooner or later you’ll have to meet my parents. So it might as well be now.”
I hadn’t meant to bring up the
L
word. I’d alluded to it the other night, when I told Walter that he was the first guy I’d had sex with who I cared about.
“You’re so young, Manny,” Walter said.
I faced him with my hands on my hips. “I’m twenty-two. You’re thirty-two. What’s ten years between lovers?”
“It’s a big difference to some people. Your parents haven’t acknowledged that you’re gay. To bring an older man into the equation…”
“I actually thought I’d introduce you as my boss,” I said dryly.
He shook his head. “I doubt your parents are stupid, Manny. They’re going to see the way we look at each other and know there’s something more going on.”
“Then let them. Like I said, I’m twenty-two. I’m an adult.”
We dressed and drove over to my parents’ house—a quicker drive than from the Beach, for sure. This time I was able to park right behind Abuelo. “I guess Beatriz’s boyfriend isn’t here yet,” I said.
“One more time, Manny,” Walter said before we got out of the car. “You’re okay with this?”
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Walter was able to walk up the sidewalk pretty well with his cane; I stayed behind him in case he had any trouble. The front door opened and my mother said, “
Hola, mijito
.”
“
Hola, Mami
.” I kissed her cheek. “
Esta es mi jefe
, Walter Loredo.”
“
Encantada de conocerte, Señora Garcia
,” he said.
She blushed. “
Por favor, debe llamar a mí Delfina
.”
“
Un nombre hermoso para una dama hermosa
.” A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.
She tittered with pleasure as we walked inside. I was surprised to see that Jesus was already there; someone must have told him to leave the close parking spot for me.
I introduced Walter to everyone and helped him into a comfortable chair. I sat on the floor next to Del and Fabi.
“You own Loredo Construction?” Jesus asked Walter.
Walter nodded.
“One of the deacons from my church works there. Camilo Sanchez?”
“I know Camilo well. He’s been with me since I first started my business.”
“He’s a very good man,” Jesus said. “He has helped me with my religious education a great deal.”
We chatted for a while in a mix of English and Spanish. Walter charmed them all, telling Abuelo and Abuela about a college trip he’d taken to Cuba, where he had helped build houses in the countryside for a charity. He refused to brag about his success, even though Papi prompted him, and said it was all because he had great employees—like me.
I tried not to look at Walter because I was afraid that what he’d said would be true, that my parents would figure out our relationship that way. Del kept looking at me and smiling, though.
Mami called us in to dinner. As we clustered around the dining room table, Hernan brought two folding chairs in from the garage; Jesus followed with one. “Manny, you take the folding chair,” Papi said. “Let Walter have the good one.”
Walter started to protest, but Papi said, “No arguments. We are honored to have you as a guest in our home.”
Walter looked embarrassed, but he sat in my chair, and I squeezed in beside him. It was an interesting tableau—Maria del Carmen with Hernan, Beatriz with Jesus, and me with Walter. I wondered if this was the way our Sunday meals would be for a long time to come.
We ate and drank, and Walter complimented my mother effusively on the food. “You like cigars?” Papi asked Walter when we were finished.
“I’m Cuban, aren’t I?” Walter said.
Papi leaned close to him. “I have Cohibas.”
“No!” Walter said.
“Come with me.” Papi stood up and offered his hand to Walter to help him up.
“What about me?” I asked.
“You don’t smoke cigars,” Papi said.
“I’m Cuban, aren’t I?” I mimicked.
Papi raised his eyebrows but then said, “Fine, come along.”
The three of us walked through the kitchen, and Papi stopped to remove his wooden cigar box from a cabinet. “These are very special. My brother has a contact who brings them in.” He handed one to Walter. “You can smoke the Dominican,” he said to me.
I wasn’t going to argue. I’d smoked a couple of cigars in my life, but I wasn’t a connoisseur by any means. We went out to the backyard, where we bit off the ends of the cigars and Papi lit them.
“There’s nothing like a real Cuban cigar,” Walter said after he’d taken a couple of puffs. “Thank you so much, Señor Garcia.”
“You are like family, now, Walter,” Papi said. “You must call me Emilio.”
Like family? What was in those cigars?
We sat in plastic lawn chairs and smoked, and my father and Walter talked about the Marlins, and then Walter excused himself to go in to the restroom. “Don’t worry, I can make it,” he said to me. “You stay with your father.”
Papi watched Walter walk inside. “He seems like a good man.”
“He is. Great boss. I’m really learning a lot from him.”
“This is not the path I would have chosen for you, mijito,” he said. “It will be hard for you sometimes.”
My father had always supported my interest in construction. He was the one who bought me the tiny dump trucks and tractors I used to build makeshift buildings in the backyard. So I was surprised that he would have wanted me to do something else.
Then I looked at him.
“Oh,” I said. “You mean…”
“I hope he will be good to you. If he’s not, you always have a home with us.”
“Papi, it’s not—we’re not…”
There was a kindness in his eyes that I rarely saw from my papi. He had worked hard all his life, and when we were kids he was the disciplinarian, the tyrant who demanded we keep quiet, not irritate him.
“I don’t know what to say, Papi,” I said. “I didn’t think you would…”
“What? That I would not know my own son? That we would suspect nothing when you wanted to live at FU, when you moved into the fraternity? When you moved to South Beach? Manuelito, give your old mami and papi some credit.”
Papi took a deep draw on his cigar and then blew a series of perfect smoke rings.
“How do you do that, Papi?” I asked.
He was demonstrating to me when Walter came back outside to join us, and the three of us made smoke rings until the cigars burned out.
Have Faith
When we finished the construction meeting on Monday morning, there was a young guy in a white shirt and gray slacks waiting in the lobby. “Mr. Loredo? I’m Chuck Sampson from the
Miami Herald
. Can I have a few minutes of your time?”
“What’s this about?” Walter asked as the construction managers streamed past.
“I think it would be better if we talked about it in your office.”
Walter looked at him, and I could see some kind of recognition dawning in his eyes. “You’d better come in then,” he said.
Sampson followed Walter into his office, and Walter closed the door behind them.
“What’s going on?” Estefani asked me in a low voice.
“No idea. Did the guy say anything to you?”
She shook her head. “Could it be about his divorce?”
“Why would the newspaper send a reporter out here for that?”
“I don’t know.”
I went back to my office and tried to concentrate on the schedule for warehouse two, but I was too curious about what the reporter wanted from Walter. I fidgeted until I heard Walter’s door open and the reporter say good-bye to Estefani.
I walked out, and Estefani raised her eyebrows at me. I leaned my head into Walter’s office. “Everything all right, boss?”
“No, everything’s gone to shit,” he said. “You’re going to hear it anyway, so you might as well come in.”
I looked at Walter’s face. What could have happened? Had someone outed him to the paper as part of his divorce?
“Close the door behind you. I need to figure out how to present this before I go public.”
I shut the door and sat down across from Walter. “You’re scaring me,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Remember how I said Sal had asked me to help him out with some trouble he was in over preferential lending?”
That was not the direction I was expecting the conversation to go, and it took me a minute to remember. “Yeah, you said were worried about how he might twist around the papers he had you sign.”
“Well, it turns out that he approved my loan without going through the proper channels. And not just mine—a whole lot of loans.”
“What does that mean for you?”
“Sal is getting canned, and I’m royally screwed. While the big bosses review all the loans, mine is on hold, which means I won’t be able to get the next draw I need to pay bills. I spoke to Sal last week about refinancing so I could buy Heriberto out, but now that’s fucked too.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Damned if I know. I’d say we should get drunk and screw again, but that’s only postponing the inevitable.” He swiveled his computer monitor toward me. “I have enough cash on hand to carry us for about two weeks. After that, without the loan money, I have nothing.”
“What about rent from warehouse one?” I asked. “You haven’t handed that over to Heriberto yet, have you?”
“His attorney is drawing up the papers now. Once I give the building to Heriberto, I won’t have any assets to back up a loan except the land. And even if I had that income, it wouldn’t be enough to finance the rest of the project. The only way out is to sell the whole project to Heriberto—or some other investor—at a fire-sale price, and walk away.”
“Can’t you get another loan?”
He shook his head. “Not quickly enough. And in this economic climate it’s hard to get financing. I thought I lucked out because Sal was my old friend, and he pushed the loan through for me. I had no idea I was part of some big discrimination scheme.”
Walter picked up the phone. “You’d better go,” he said to me. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”
I walked out of his office in a daze. Everything had been going so well. I loved my job, and I was learning new things every day. Construction had been proceeding smoothly, with only minor hiccups. I had fallen in love with Walter Loredo, and even my parents seemed to like him and accept me. I was on top of the world.
Now, with one visit from a newspaper reporter, everything was falling apart. What was Walter going to do? What if he pushed me away? I’d be jobless and brokenhearted at the same time.
“What’s up?” Estefani asked as I stepped into the lobby.
I shook my head. “Walter will have to tell you.”
I went back to my office. I looked around at the plans on the wall, the hard hat on top of the file cabinet. The trappings of the job I had been so excited to get. And now it looked like I’d be unemployed in two weeks.
Once I didn’t work for him anymore, it would be impossible for him to maintain the pretense that I was living with him to take care of him. And he might have to preserve the illusion that he was straight in order to get another job or another project.
I’d have to go back to the apartment on South Beach. I had a little money in the bank—not much, just what I’d saved from my first two months of work. I had no idea how much unemployment compensation was, or even if I’d qualify—I doubted I’d worked long enough.
Maybe Gavin could get me a job as a barista.
Would you like room for milk?
Walter broke the news to the construction managers at the lunch meeting. When he had finished, Camilo stood up. “This is God’s retribution,” he said in Spanish. “Because you are a homosexual and a sodomist and you are unclean in God’s eyes.”
Walter shook his head and said, “Not now, Camilo.”
“Yes, now. You have ruined the lives of all of us here.” He glared at me. “This is your fault, Manny. Walter was a good Christian heterosexual before you came along.”
“Camilo.” Walter’s voice was ominously quiet, and the room looked at him. “You’re fired, effective immediately. Get your fat bigoted ass off my site.”
Camilo sneered at him. “You are no boss to me. I hope you roast in hell.”
Then he stood up and stormed out of the room.
“Anyone else have an opinion to share?” Walter asked.
No one spoke up.
“I wish I could say I’m going to try and save things,” Walter said. “But I don’t see any way to do that. I won’t blame any of you who want to leave now. But I do have enough money to make payroll for the next two weeks.”
Adrian stood up. “You’re a great boss, Walter. I have faith in you.”