The first few times he pressed the button nothing happened. After about twenty times, the front door unlocked and Luis stepped into the vestibule. The building had six floors and no elevator. He lived on the fifth floor, in a one-room studio with a small kitchenette and a postage stamp of a balcony next to a fire escape where he kept a few herbs and flowers.
By the time Luis opened the front door, the man who had been sitting in the car was now standing right behind him. “I’ve been trying to get you for days,” the man said, following Luis into the building without being formally invited. “Where on Earth have you been?” He was a portly man in his mid-seventies, with a receding hairline, thick stubby fingers, and a flat nose.
The top of his gray head met the bottom of Luis’s chest.
“I’m sorry, Barney,” Luis said, reaching for the banister. “I’ve been very busy.” His voice was soft and pleasant and he smiled while he spoke, but these confrontations turned his stomach into knots. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
The man followed him up the stairs. “I’m not Barney,” he said. “I’m Alvin.”
While they climbed the stairs, Luis’s landlord leaned over the top-floor railing and shouted, “Where’s your key? I was sleeping. I don’t get up before ten and you know that. I just gave you a new key last week. What’s the matter with you?” He covered his ears with his palms.
“Too much noise.”
Luis looked up and shrugged. His landlord was an older man with a thick accent Luis wasn’t sure about. It could have been German, or maybe Dutch. Luis had never been good with accents. People were people and he hated giving them labels.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Gordon,” Luis said, pounding up the steps with little effort. “I must have left it someplace insignificant again.” Insignificant was one of his new favorite words that week.
He tried to use it as much as he could. The week before it had been the word mundane. And he had no idea what the next word would be.
“Well, you’d better find it,” the landlord said, making fists with both hands. “I need my sleep. I have a routine and I don’t like it disturbed.” The louder he spoke, the thicker his accent became.
Luis smiled and yanked off his black tie. Then he removed his white dinner jacket and unbuttoned his white shirt right there in the hallway where both Mr. Gordon and Alvin could watch him. He didn’t know much about the world, but he knew one thing for sure: the only way to calm the old guys down was to start taking off his clothes. It never failed. He could get away with anything if he showed some skin.
While Alvin blinked at Luis’s naked chest, Luis opened the door to his apartment and slipped inside fast. He never locked his apartment. The front door to the building was always locked and he figured locking his door was a waste of time. But he closed the door hard so Alvin couldn’t follow him in, then clicked the lock while Alvin stood in the hall and started to yell at him again.
“I thought you liked me,” Alvin said, banging on the door. “I’ve been paying for you and all your friends for the last month. Dinner here, nightclubs there. I’ve spent a small fortune on you and I’ve treated you very well. And this is how you treat me? I thought we had something together…a future.”
Luis rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. This Alvin character certainly was a persistent little fellow. All Luis wanted to do was go to bed and get a few hours of sleep. Was this too much to ask?
So while Alvin stood outside his door ranting, Luis kicked off his shoes and stripped down to his white boxer briefs. For the life of him, he’d never understand what these older guys wanted. He’d made it clear to Alvin their relationship would never be anything more than platonic, and he’d thought Alvin had agreed to his terms. And now here Alvin was, banging on his door, expecting more than Luis could offer—or was willing to offer. The other thing Luis had learned to watch out for with these older guys was their ability to steal energy. They could be absolutely exhausting. Though they paid the bills, what they took in return couldn’t be replenished. And Luis didn’t like handing out his energy to just anyone.
When Luis reached down to remove his black socks, there was a loud door slam from above. It sounded as if Mr. Gordon was looking down from the top floor and shouting at Alvin.
“You get out of my building, you old fool, and leave this nice boy alone. Or I’m calling the police right now.” Evidently, it didn’t occur to Mr. Gordon he was about the same age as Alvin.
Luis took a deep breath and exhaled. He knew Alvin had a wife and a family, and wouldn’t want to get involved with the police. Luis wasn’t sure what Alvin did for a living, but his family was involved in politics and he kept a very low profile.
Sure enough, right after Mr. Gordon said this, Alvin stopped shouting and banging on the door. There was a moment of silence, then Luis heard Alvin walking back down the wooden steps.
When Luis knew it was safe, he opened the door and stepped into the hall. When he looked up, Mr. Gordon was still leaning over the banister, with a telephone in his hand and a finger ready to speed-dial 911. Luis wasn’t wearing anything but white boxer briefs by then.
He’d just had his entire body waxed the day before and he’d been to an indoor tanning salon two days before that. His delicate muscles were smooth and soft and bronze.
Mr. Gordon pointed at Luis and said, “I need my sleep. I’m going to get a dozen keys made this afternoon and give them all to you.” His voice started out loud, but grew softer when he realized Luis was in his underwear and bare feet.
Luis looked up at him and smiled. He stuck his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his white boxer briefs and pulled the waistband down to the middle of his hips on purpose. He stopped just before his penis and looked up at Mr. Gordon. He smiled, arched his back a little, and said, “I’ll probably lose those keys, too. It’s no use, Mr. Gordon. I’m just not good with keys and insignificant things like that.” He spread his legs wider and lowered the back of his underwear so that half of his firm, round ass would be exposed. He smiled and said, “Please don’t be upset with me, Mr. Gordon.” He knew Mr. Gordon well. The old guy had a loud bark, but whenever he saw Luis in his underwear, or less, he started to purr.
“Are you upset with me, Mr. Gordon?” Luis asked in a soft, timid tone. Though he wasn’t blond, he’d learned that even brunettes could also play the dumb-blonde routine and get away with it when they were in their underwear.