PEG BOY (20 page)

Vincent took
Santiago’s arm and led him out of the hotel, where they were dazzled by the
bright sunlight. The early-morning haze had burned off and the town was bathed
in a sharp light that made them squint. They walked along Grant Street and
Vincent saw Santiago looking at him with curiosity.

“Go ahead, ask
your question. I know you’ve been dying to..., so ask.”

“I wanted to
earlier. I wanted to kill you, earlier! Then I realized your small part in all
this and that it would do no good to do anything to you. And I know I have few
choices except to take McIntyre’s offer. I know I could leave if I wanted to,
but I choose to stay because there are things I want to know. I will stay
because it will give me some time to settle things that are at present,
unsettled.”

“Am I part of
those unsettled things?” Vincent had an edge to his voice. “I hope you’re not
threatening me, because if...,”

Santiago put
his hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “Look, I know it was not you that hurt me. You
probably would have done things differently if you had not been forced to...,
and I know McIntyre had a hand it. I'm going to put that all aside for now. I
don’t have a grudge with you, Vincent. I want us to be friends, as we can
achieve more that way than being enemies. But I do need to ask a question. What
did you stand by and allow what happened without protesting?”

Vincent
stopped and looked Santiago in the eyes. “If I tell you something, you must
promise not to act on it until the time is right! You must promise to say
nothing to anyone and not to confront McIntyre with any of what I tell you.”

“Why, what is
this all about?”

“Promise!”

“But...,”

“Promise!”

“Yes, I
promise.”

“Swear it!”

“On my
mother’s grave I promise to do what you say.”

“You had gold
hidden in your bag, didn’t you?”

“You know I
did! They took it all..., and you showed them where to look!”

Vincent looked
guilty. “Yes, I showed them. You know McIntyre didn’t know you had the gold. I
didn’t know you had it! I was supposed to find papers you might have that would
tell him who you really were. It was not until you told me yourself how much
you had and where it was while you were hallucinating and before the men got
there, that I found out. They heard it as well when you mentioned it again when
they were outside the door waiting for my signal. I
had
to find it and
turn it over to them. McIntyre would have beaten me badly or thrown me to The
Hounds if he found out I lied to him again. In any case, the men who were there
that night did not get all your gold!”

Santiago
stopped in his tracks and looked at Vincent, who had an ever-increasing smile
on his face.

“What are you
saying?”

“I am telling
you that I thought it stupid to turn over the amount that only you and I knew
was there. While you were in your stupor I searched your things. I showed them
where the dust was. All they took was the dust.”

“Then you have
the...”

“I have the
nugget hidden. You know that nugget is worth much more than the dust!”

“What will you
do about it? Will you give it back?”

Vincent put
his arm around Santiago’s shoulders and hugged him.

“We need to
stick together. I did not intend to steal the gold and keep it for myself. I
have put it away, as it would not be safe to keep anything like that on us or
in the room. I have a friend, a man who likes me very much. We have been
together many times. He trusts me and I trust him. It is someone McIntyre does
not know about. We meet secretly, although he will be at the festivities this
evening. Santiago, he gives me money and keeps it in a banking account he
started for me. He suggested this plan when he found out that McIntyre takes
most of what I make. Each time we are together he puts an amount in my account.
There will be a time when enough will have been accumulated that I will be able
to disappear and never come back. I gave the nugget to him. I told him what had
happened and he is holding it in your name.”

“He would give
me the nugget if I asked for it?”

“Not that
easy. My friend knows how easily we are intimidated by McIntyre and how McIntyre
keeps opium and hashish freely dispensed. The opium we smoked that night was to
knock you out so that you would offer no resistance. McIntyre gives us
cigarettes to smoke that contain the same substance. My friend knows that most
of McIntyre’s boys are addicted and work only to obtain drugs. When the time
comes, my friend will make himself known to you and will be willing to give you
the nugget.

“I expect
something for my efforts, Santiago!”

“I have no
idea what the nugget is worth. What could I give you?”

“The rock is
worth two thousand dollars. Five hundred would suffice”

“You will have
it. Can he be trusted with that much? He will not steal it?”

Vincent
laughed and slapped his leg. “Santiago, he would light his cigar with a note of
that value! No he will not steal your money, as he has much of his own. I will
point him out to you so that you know who to go to if you must.”

“Will McIntyre
know anything about this? You said he will be there tonight? But if McIntyre is
bringing us to meet customers, is this man one of McIntyre’s customers?”

“Yes, he buys
a boy once in a while so as to not draw attention to our relationship. He even
buys me, sometimes. But he usually pays little attention to me when McIntyre is
around.”

“Does he love
you?”

“Love has
nothing to do with it. I am good, and Anthony knows I will not steal from him
or threaten his family life.”

“He has a
family?”

“His wife is
well known in the city. She leads a group of women, wives of the wealthiest men
in San Francisco, who are crusading to clean up the city of vice! His children
are my age. Anthony is good to his family. I must remain a secret.”

“But why does
he not take you away from McIntyre? He could set you up and have you all to
himself.”

“Because he
knows McIntyre would find out and ruin him. No, this is the best way.”

They had walked
from the center of the city through streets where buildings became less
familiar and smaller in size. The slopes of the surrounding hills were covered
with fewer tents, replaced with more permanent structures that went up daily.
Where there had been nothing but grass and shrubs, Santiago now saw houses with
fences and chickens pecking in the yards. Paths had become streets and streets,
avenues. The pace at which things changed made it difficult for any who looked
for stability, to adjust. Many of the exploding territory’s citizens were from
places where changes as currently happening, took centuries to evolve.

“Here,”
Vincent tugged at Santiago’s arm. “The man we need to see lives here.”

They stood
before a group of six buildings, some with second floors that were made of wood
and were unpainted, obviously having been only recently constructed. All had a
common walk covered by a slanted roofs that shed the rain and provided shade.
Vincent pointed to the sign,
Tailor and Dentist
—
Come In
, above the door.

“Say nothing,”
Vincent warned. “Let me speak. The man knows exactly what needs to be done. He
will take your measurements. While he works, we will go eat. Then we will come
back in two hours for the final fitting and you will have your new clothes.”

They entered
without knocking. The room was small and the light filtered in through one
window near the door. A counter separated the entrance from the shop and beyond
the counter were tables festooned with bolts of cloth, spools of thread and
scissors of various sizes and shapes, and an assortment of needles stuck in
cushions for that purpose. Vincent rang a bell hung by the door. From the rear
of the shop a man with glasses perched at the tip of his nose, and bent from
too much stooping, came forward. He raised his hand in recognition when he got
close enough to see Vincent.

“Ahh...
shalom
Vincent. You are back with another one I see. McIntyre must have
himself quite a stable by now! And judging by the two of you they are becoming
more beautiful!”

The tailor
came from around the counter and stood in front of them, eyeing Santiago from
head to foot, nodding approval.

“Such a fine
young man..., eh? You would want something to show off all your best assets, I
think? And you, Vincent, do you approve what I made for you?”

“Yes old man!
And McIntyre was pleased with it. He says that it was because of what I wore
that night that I’ve done so well with him.”

“Yes, indeed
the first impression holds much weight. And you, my boy..., I will dress you so
that you too are not soon forgotten. Come!”

“His name is
Rueben,” Vincent said as they followed the man to the rear of the shop where
everything was brightly lit by windows that went from floor to ceiling. There
were numerous tailor’s forms, each covered with a partially completed suite or
dress.

The old man
turned to Santiago, pointing to a platform.

“Stand there.”

The tailor
began taking Santiago’s measurements, scribbling them on a piece of paper held
between his teeth. Santiago slowly turned as the man’s hands moved all over
him, pulling, tugging, wrapping measuring tape around thighs and waist, across
shoulders, over chest, at crotch down to feet. After twenty minutes the old man
completed his preliminary work and asked Santiago to step down.  He stood back
and scrutinized Santiago, walking around him again, this time admiring him
openly.

“Such a fine
boy, you look to me. That I should have been so lucky when I was young, to have
had such boys as you! When McIntyre sends his new finds to me I have a hard
time keeping the mind on the work. Yet I think still, this old body is capable
of doing some of the things of the old days. My little pleasures are in being
able to do these orders for him and Mr. McIntyre sometimes sends old Rueben a
little treat, something sweet to warm a cold night.

“Now boys, go
off and leave me to my work and you come back in three hours. Go find the sun
and relax in the fields. I will have something ready for you later. You will
pay me, today?”

Vincent spoke
before Santiago could open his mouth. “You should charge McIntyre’s account. He
will pay you! Come Santiago, we must eat and leave this man to his work. I am
ready for a good meal aren’t you?”

They left the
tailor after he showed them a bolt of cloth he planned to use for Santiago’s
suite. The tailor knew McIntyre’s taste and he chose carefully. Santiago thought
the material too bold, brocade was something women wore! The tailor watched the
boys as they left, arm in arm, carefree and so young..., and envied them their
youth and beauty.

“Vincent, what
did you do? You know that money was for the clothes. McIntyre will be upset!”

“By the time
he gets the bill he won’t remember whether he gave us money or not. He was so
drugged this morning that he will not be able to trust his own judgment when he
asks about it. Remember, there were no witnesses. We can use the money for
other things and you have it coming to you, as he owes you more than he’ll ever
repay.”

Vincent had
said the words with an edge of hate and warning. It made Santiago fearful of
what was to come.

“C
ome,
we may as well treat ourselves to a good meal at McIntyre’s expense!”

Vincent and
Santiago walked back to Portsmouth Square and entered
DelMonico’s
, a
restaurant like none Santiago had ever seen or imagined. There were many tables
and waiters dashed about, all miraculously avoiding each other so that at the
last moment they escaped collisions. The establishment was brightly lit by the
sun shining through its many windows. The tables were laden with flowers and
food and there was sawdust on the floor to reduce the grime of the street so
that the air was tolerably breathable.

The two boys
stood by the door, waiting to be seated. The Maitre-d’, a robust man
elaborately uniformed looked at them as scornfully as he would have looked at a
dog. Vincent stepped up to him and, almost nose-to-nose, and asked for a table.

“I want one
near the window,” he pointed to one of three empty tables across the room.

“Have you
money?”

The question
was asked with great disdain.

“Let me see
your money please!”

Santiago
leaned close to Vincent and pleaded with him.

“Please let us
go elsewhere. I do not like this place. It is not for us.”

Vincent placed
a hand on his arm and motioned silence. Removing a bag of coins from his pocket
and untying the knot, he dumped the coins on the floor.

“Will this
satisfy you? Did you think we were stupid enough to think we would be served
without money? Do you take us for fools? My father is a friend of the
Alcalde
and he is meeting with him right now. It was he who sent us here for a meal and
he will be surprised at how we were accosted before we even got in! The
Alcalde
said we would be treated with respect. I hardly call this greeting, respect! I
will inform him that this place seems to have difficulty distinguishing between
a gentleman’s son and rabble. Perhaps you have not spent enough time with the
former to recognize the latter?”

The Maitre-d’
stooped to pick up the money as soon as he heard Vincent explain who he was.
The change that came over the man was remarkable and the boys knew they would
be allowed inside.

“Well...,
please accept my apology for my error, young gentlemen. Follow me..., I have a
table for you now.”

They sat in
sunlight with everything on the table sparkling, the tableware polished to a
high sheen. Never had Santiago seen so many glasses at one table except perhaps
at Padre Lipolito’s where these things were considered a necessity for the
comfort and reverence of priests. A waiter quickly appeared, a boy not much
beyond their age, to pour water. Santiago gulped it down. Again the boy filled
the glass and smiled at Santiago as he turned to leave.

“We will
require much water from you, I think,” Vincent told the boy as he gave him an
approving wink. The water-boy smiled back and turned to show his small and
rounded rump as it bounced while he walked away.

“That one does
more than take care of water needs! He could be ours for the asking. But, more
of that later, for I am sure we have not seen the last of him.”

The menu, a
large placard with flowery lettering was filled with selections and Vincent
became noticeably flustered, unable to read. He looked to Santiago for help.

Can you read?”

“Si..., I read
Spanish. My mother taught me when I was little. I can also write. But if you
ask if I can read this, I must tell you it makes no sense.”

“Sure you can
understand
some
of it!”

Santiago put
the menu down and looked at Vincent in disgust.

“You brought
me here without ever having been here yourself? Have you no idea of what to ask
for? We will look like fools if we ask for something that is not written here.
What are we to do?”

Vincent looked
about the room to see what others had on their plates.

“I know they
have a well-portioned beef-steak. They will give us potatoes and corn, and the
steak will be covered with gravy. Look, there is even sweet-tasting bread. That
is what we will order.”

“I will have
the same. What will all this cost?”

“Whatever it
costs, we will have enough to pay for it. Do not worry, Santiago, you are in my
hands now!”

Santiago
laughed. “It is what worries me.”

When the meals
arrived twenty minutes later, Santiago had never seen so much food on one plate
and they ate with a relish. The meat was thick and juicy and pink in the
center, as Vincent liked it to be. The sight of blood made Santiago queasy, but
he found the taste of the meat delicious. Two ears of corn, a mound of boiled
potatoes and onions filled the plate. Baskets of steaming sourdough bread were
brought each time one was emptied. It was almost an hour before they finished
gnawing the bones and left the plates empty and cleaned of juices. They ordered
iced milk when the waiter told them
DelMonicos
always had a supply even
during the summer months. As if the meal had not been enough, further
suggestions were made of baked apple pie fresh from the oven. Two orders arrived
with saucers of heavy cream into which the pie could be dipped.

It was with
pain and effort that they pushed themselves from the table. Santiago thought
his pants would burst if he bent forward. The check was brought on a silver
dish. Vincent called the bus-boy.

“Tell us what
this says we owe.”

The boy looked
at them, surprised they would ask such a question.

“Don’t you
know?”

Vincent pushed
the check closer to the boy. “We are not fluent in your language. Now, can you
answer!”

The boy looked
apologetic and asked their forgiveness.

“It comes to
forty dollars.”

Vincent took
his pouch and dumped the money on the table, counting out the correct amount of
coins.

“I can not
take your money,” the boy said. “You must pay him,” as he pointed to the
waiter.

Santiago took
an extra five-dollar piece and gave it to the boy, who was unused to receiving
such gratuity.

 “This is for
your help.”

The amount was
more than the boy earned in a week.

“Close your
mouth,” Vincent said, laughing. “When my brother feels good, he likes to pass
his feelings on to others. He also likes to give money to pretty boys that
attract him. Do you like pretty boys?”

Santiago
reddened at the disclosure. Both had become more interested by the boy’s
provocative clothing and had noticed how he had stared at them when they had
entered. The boy had lingered near their table and Vincent suspected that the
boy was attracted to one of them. As he talked to him, Vincent purposely stared
at the boy’s crotch. The boy became flustered and began to stutter something
about being needed elsewhere as he stumbled to move away.

“He suspected
we were about to ask if he wanted to earn more than what you gave him,” Vincent
laughed as he slapped his thigh.

They lingered
over coffee and continued to stare at the boy each time he came into the room
until he became so self-conscious that he could look at them no longer.

As they paid
the bill the maitre-d’ asked if they were pleased with the meal, in a
solicitous tone.

“Do you speak Spanish?”
Santiago asked.

In Spanish,
the man responded that he spoke a little, enough to understand his respected
Spanish-speaking customers.

“Good,”
Vincent replied, leaning close to the man as though about to tell him something
confidential. “I think that the boy who pours the water may be hiding something
from you.”

The maitre-d’
looked surprised. “What could he be hiding..., what do you mean?”

“I think he is
hiding something between his legs! Have you not noticed? You should, you
know...!”

Vincent and
Santiago left the man standing at the door, his mouth open, looking bewildered,
wondering if he had understood correctly, thinking something had been twisted
in the translation. From the lobby of the hotel they watched as he searched out
the water-boy and stared at the place between his legs as the boy passed him
with a tray filled with glasses. When the boy found himself being stared at
again, he missed the doorway and walked into the wall as the tray and glasses
he carried went crashing to the hardwood floor. As he stooped to clean up the
breakage they heard him say in a loud tone,

“Jesus Christ...,
is there no one in this city that doesn’t love boys...” and he pushed the
maitre’d away when the man tried to help.

Santiago and
Vincent, arm-in-arm, went sauntering through the front door laughing loudly. 

McIntyre was
to pick them up at the rooming house in an hour. When they had returned to the
tailor and he had brought out the suite for a final fit, Santiago had been almost
too embarrassed to put it on as it looked like something a woman would wear.
The vest and pants were of a light blue silk brocade that fit him like a second
skin, clinging to his buttocks and thighs so that every muscle, curve, and
bulge were conspicuously on display. The coat was cut with wide lapels and
tapered waist, and was to be worn with a fancy blouse. Santiago had to admit
that when he put on the clothing and looked in the mirror, what he saw made him
short of breath, surprised at his own beauty. It was as though he had become
someone else. Vincent had said that he would not look so differently than
others who would be at the event, and had shown him his own suite that McIntyre
had given him. It was not as flashy as Santiago’s; its cloth was fawn-colored
cotton. But the cut of the pants was as suggestive.

McIntyre’s
carriage rolled along Columbus Avenue towards Belle’s Nugget and the boys sat
and listened as McIntyre instructed them.

“I know you
have heard all this before, Vincent, but it won’t hurt to listen. There is only
one
reason each of you are with me tonight. Remember that! Many people
will be there to spend money and much of it will come to me. These are
important people! Some could close me down, but they know I could do the same
to them. We have an uneasy truce. You will see men and women. Vincent is able
to be with men and women. In fact I am told that he is very good with women and
that is why many come back for more. Are you as versatile, Santiago?”

Santiago knew
what McIntyre was suggesting and he did not like the thought of being sold to
women. Once again he wondered if he had made a mistake.

“Well, do
you?” McIntyre snapped.

“It would not
be the first time.”

Santiago said
shortly, thinking of Rosa and hoping the women he would be asked to service
would be as pleasant although he knew they would not be as young!

“Aha..., so we
have a Romeo, do we? And what did you do with all these women?”

“There were
not a lot. There was just one, and I did what men do to women.”

“And do you
like them as much as you like men?”

“I prefer men.
I am a maricon. That does not prevent me from enjoying sex with women if it is
done properly and done
my
way.”

“Well, lad,
you may have problems with that. Remember, the customer is the one who pays the
bill and whatever is done, is to be done
their
way! But enough of that,
we will talk about it late. All you need to remember tonight is to smile,
circulate, let people touch you, give no offense, do not eat too much, for no
one likes a boy who eats like a pig! Always be aware of how you are standing so
that you offer as much of yourself to the people as you can without actually
acting like a tramp. Do you understand?”

The boys
nodded.

“Good. Now for
my little surprise. Belle asked that I provide some entertainment. We are going
to do something that has never been done before. You, my lads, are going to
perform an act of love on stage.”

McIntyre let
the shock set in. He watched the two boys as each looked at the other,
wondering if he was being serious.

“You mean in
front of everybody?” Vincent asked, incredulous.

“Of course!”

“Fuck you, I
am!”

Although
Vincent had spit the insult at McIntyre, the look on his face showed he knew he
was at the man’s mercy.

“No, you
little prick..., not me..., you’ll be fucking
him
!

Santiago had
trouble following the discussion, but he understood enough to know what he was
being told to do.

“But Señor, I
can not do this thing while people are looking on. I will be useless. How can
you ask for us to do this!”

“I’m not
asking..., I am telling you! As far as having anyone watching you fucking, I
thought of that and assumed it would be a problem. The solution will be that
while you are on stage there will be just enough light for the audience to see
you. But you will not be able to see anyone because the hall will be in
darkness. When you will be on stage it will seem as though you are alone.”

“But we won’t
be! We’ll know there are people looking on.”

“Use your
imagination. Just concentrate on each other’s cocks. You’ll see that you will
soon forget about your audience.”

Vincent
resented being used. This was just another way of McIntyre stealing another
little part of him, having few limits to his demands.

“McIntyre, how
can you do this!”

“And you...,” McIntyre
looked at Santiago. “You have nothing to say?”

“Would it do
any good to say it?”

“That’s right
lad, it wouldn’t. Santiago I think you and I are going to get along well. We
understand each other. Are you looking forward to tonight?”

It was as
though McIntyre had read his mind, for Santiago had felt a sense of excitement
at the prospect of having sex with Vincent. The blood had already begun to
surge into his penis at the thought of what they would do and it was difficult
to hide his reaction. He wondered what was happening to him, that suddenly
things that would have never occurred to him months ago seemed now acceptable.
Had he changed that much?