Sweet Life

Took a while to answer all the questions from Fredrick. Romy had no ID with his real name; didn’t bother Fredrick.

After showing us around the grounds, then the downstairs of Russel's home, we waited on the patio, watching the pool man sieve the water.

When Russel came back, he asked Fredrick about our paperwork, specifically Romy’s identification. "Get that changed so it's good enough for government work."

"Where're you boys staying?" Russel asked.

Romy and I looked at each other. I answered, "We’ll be with Toddy till we find a place. Just got into town yesterday."

The conversation ended with us agreeing to stay in a bungalow behind the pool till we found a place of our own. The rest of the morning was spent with Russel explaining about his businesses, contracting and subcontracting. He was proud of all he’d done; rightfully so. He’d started young and built an empire.

Had a special arrangement in Glendale, specifically, Grand Central Airport. "Put the asphalt in several years ago and haven't stopped yet. Lot of profit to be made there." Russel and Fredrick wanted to get a bigger foothold in the airport saying air travel and tourism were booming despite the economy and Hollywood would push it forward. "We'll go out there this afternoon. You'll see."

***

Business discussions continued through lunch.

Found out I really liked huaraches – not the Mexican sandals but a thick tortilla topped with of avocado, salad and meat. Alongside were a stack of grilled nopale strips now covered in lime juice and spices. Their familiar taste kept me tied to my past; kept me on track. Hid my amazement to appear capable of joining in these ventures.

This is the information Toddy had for me. There were homosexual men who were doing very well and ready to hire more like them. I'd have to thank Toddy, he'd just given me more than I expected and exactly what Romy and I needed.

***

That afternoon we toured LA. Visited the airport and drove by apartment buildings and rental houses, then to the greenhouse.

The greenhouse was almost as big as the sanctuary at Angelus. It held potential though needed repair. The air was humid, about half the panes were intact; wouldn't take much to get it up and running.

***

Russel mentioned that he was meeting with friends that night at a private club. We drove the coast and pulled afront a simple, adobe building near the cliffs. A valet took the Olds, Russel and Fredrick motioned for us to follow them.

There was only one door on the front of what appeared to be a private home. Inside, I smelled the ocean, the restaurant opened to the sea.

Tables with candles, linens… potted plants. Along one side, open windows overlooked the surf. Far on the horizon were ships passing in front of a blazing gold sunset—glimmers of their lights caught my eye.

***

Dined like kings; soft music, waiters bustling, wine glasses never empty. Everyone had lobster. I stuck with what I knew, meat and potatoes.

Sun set, I thought we'd leave, we didn't. Russel whispered to the waiter and we walked down a narrow hallway from the dining room into a room marked, "Private."

The room was dim, no windows, instead lit with small lamps, a piano in the corner and a short bar. Barkeep smiled, "Russel, Fredrick, good to see you. The usual?" They nodded.

He lifted his eyebrows, smiled at Romy and me. I asked for iced tea, having too much wine with dinner.

Romy asked the barkeep's specialty, "Gimlet? Okay."

Looking around, there were only a few men in quiet conversation, arms around the other's shoulders, laughing and enjoying their affections openly.

Had to lean and kiss Romy's cheek, then I beamed at Russel and Fredrick. All I had imagined for years was true, and I was right in the middle of it with Romy.

Stayed several hours as couples came and went, most of them knew Russel. We were introduced and shook hands with incredibly handsome men all dressed to the nines. Hard for me to contain the excitement, had to look away often I was grinning so hard.

The pianist played all kinds of music, some old, some new and Fredrick asked me to dance with him. He held me close, and it felt good, moving slowly with the music. Full stomach and good company, easy atmosphere.

Danced with Romy in my arms, slowly swaying while the pianist played ‘Everything I Have Is Yours.’ That dance was one roman candle after another exploding inside me. Rubbed our hard cocks together right there on the dance floor.

"You're mine." He whispered.

"I always have been."

***

"Enjoy yourselves?" Fredrick asked when he took the wheel to drive us back to Russel's.

"More than you know." I was ready to unzip Romy's pants and jump him on the back seat.

"Hold on, boys." He checked the rear view mirror smiling.

Romy was giggling and trying to sing with Russel as we went into the house, he’d had more than several gimlets. Took his arm in one hand and our bag in the other, heading to the pool house.

Fredrick grabbed the bag from me, took my arm and walked with me while Russel held Romy around the waist and took him upstairs. "What?"

"They're going to talk business." Fredrick whispered and escorted me to the pool house.

***

Only four rooms, furnished nicely. Clean, fresh linens. He turned on a lamp and led me to the bedroom. French doors opened to a small patio with a table and two chairs nestled into palms and mossy rocks. Water gurgled from a small fountain underneath a miniature orange tree.

I stood looking at the water, then upward toward the full moon above the ridge when I felt Fredrick's hands around my waist, He stood behind me, unbuttoning my shirt. Fredrick had already dropped his clothes on the floor.

Turning to him, I didn't know how to ask, "Romy?"

His hands went to my butt, pulling me against him. "He's fine."

Suddenly, I realized my predicament. This was the price of work.

All the rich food, the alcohol, the smiles and friendly treatment was simply to bring me to this, and the man I loved, young and ambitious was being used upstairs.

Duped, baited, we hadn’t even talked salary. I had to surrender myself as the last part of my interview. Cornered if I wanted work.

"A good-looking young sod without an erection?" Fredrick chuckled, "Are you saying you don't like older men?"

Fredrick had sharper features, thinner than Russel yet tall and wide-shouldered, narrow hipped. Blonde hair mixed with silver, and thick brown eyelashes ringing bright, golden-brown eyes. Soft-spoken guy, and clearly educated. Dick looked like a thick tulip, big head on a long, slender shaft. Long foreskin slightly flared at the end. He was half erect.

Wondered how many interviewees it probed before this night.

"Never been with an older man to know."

"Well, what is it?" He pulled me against him, kissing my hair, holding me close. “Reefer?”

I shook my head. All my questions rushed toward my mouth, but I stopped them. "Romy...."

Heard an exasperated sigh from the tall man who held me, "Turning me down?"

Took courage, and the pain of this reality pushed it forward: "Look, I'm a man who's come a long way on damn little. I’m a man who found a boy, kept him till he became a man. He didn't owe me anything; never had to buy his way on my dick. We've survived the worst times, built ourselves into more than ignorant jerks. Now, we have to fuck for work? No. We've come too far."

"Humph," Fredrick snorted. He was quiet for a few moments, still embracing me. "You're not fucking for work. Let that be clear."

Taking me by the hand to the bed, he patted the space beside him, "There are things you need to know."

Inspected the scars on my hands, "I’ve got a good idea how far you’ve come. I admire that about you, actually quite touched when I put it together during your interview. Clever how you two survived. I have a good idea how far you've come." He kissed my fingers, then pulling me aside him and gave me quiet, but unsettling lesson:

"Do you love Toddy and his family as much as I do? He's made a wonderful home for his wife and kids."

"Sure, he's been good to me and Romy."

"Now, you have to respect Russel for building his business, a good reputation, and sharp sense of trends. He's shaping the future of LA."

"Yeah."

"All Russel’s money, power and foresight won't ever be enough to have what Toddy has. Russel won't have children or family, a home. He has me, and a few friends, that's the family he's made around him.

“Societies honor and respect men like Toddy, he's admired and treated well for what he's built. He’s a shining example of success in these times."

He took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. "Fags have to make their own ways, different customs for our lives. Our ways give us some of that respect and admiration within our circles the way that society does for Toddy. We're denied much, live in the shadows, hiding parts of ourselves. We'll never be the shining examples of true success.

“Always thought I'd be a great father, but I've never seen a fag with a family where it worked out. So we build family around us in our ways. Our affections keep us close and our secrets secure. A good fuck fills the gaps we can’t fill elsewhere in a society that hates us. Understand?"

"What about love?"

"Get it where you can. Pure luck you found Romy. Our love is misshaped by the law. Majority rules and we're a minority. Our love is illegal; immoral. Some are jailed, fined for it. If a man is open about his desires he'll be an outcast, even us sods can't be around him for fear we'll join him in jail or the insane asylums. Those places are more dangerous than the streets."

Fredrick painted a dismal future, and my eyes burned, filled with tears. He leaned to me and kissed my forehead.

"Perhaps I've been too blunt." He paused, "Sickens me to have to explain it like that, and a half-life with our customs is better than none at all. There's way too many sorrows among us now." He kissed my lips. "Not the best customs we've created, and it's the best we have now."

My eyes still burned with tears, "There’s no other way?"

"Find it and let me know." He whispered, as his own eyes filled with tears.

It was that moment when I realized that Fredrick was right. Romy and I had been clever, yet we had lived half-lives, stayed to ourselves most of the time living as cousins, intuitively giving up the freedom to be honest in order to survive.

My imagination had held the hope for a full-life, though I didn't know exactly what it would look like.

Looking into Fredrick's eyes, "Romy..." I whispered. My lover's embrace was the only way to salve this bitter sting of awareness.

He stood, and took my hand, "You need your Romy?"

***

Moonlight streamed across a large, bed where Russel and Romy lay sleeping. "Russel, get up. These boys need to be together."

Russel rolled over and stood, grabbed his robe, "This one hasn't learned how to hold his liquor." He snorted. “Passed out when he hit the bed.”

I was never so glad for alcohol as I was in that moment.

***

Heard the birds outside and woke early, just before the sun rose. Heard soft splashes through the doors opening to a small veranda, I looked to see Fredrick in the pool completely bare.

He looked up and silently motioned me to come swim. Romy was still sleeping.

Found a towel and slipped downstairs and into the pool naked. Fredrick opened his arms to me and I neared. "Thank you." He whispered.

“For what?”

"Last night. You're making me think; my favorite pastime." He winked and we swam back and forth in the pool, underwater, silent and swift, trying to make the whole length on one breath, then back again.

When the sun was full and the canyon walls warmed we went into the kitchen, made coffee. Fredrick mixed a short glass of medicine for Romy, "Take this to him. He won't be up before noon."

When I came back downstairs, we took our breakfast outside and opened the newspaper, browsing the headlines. "Strikers rioting in San Francisco..." I read aloud.

"Been to San Francisco?" Fredrick asked, reviewing the stock prices.

"Not yet. Heard its a hoppin' town with jazz clubs, bathhouses...."

"It is." He paused, "About last night. Maybe I was in my cups, but I wasn't clear. There are men like us who live out in the open. Very few of them but they do well."

"Who's that?"

"Mostly artists and performers—the theater has been filled with homos, lezzies, cross-dressers, all kinds... And there's the writers and poets, the great ones; a few scientists and specialists. They can live openly, but only a few."

Sipping his coffee, "Now, I'm an accountant, I'll get none of that freedom. Russel, he won't either. He gets a lot of attention, but he's paid his dues. Still has to disguise part of himself in the business world."

"Paid his dues?"

"Came to LA from New York with his family when he was about twelve. Had a good life before the crash. Father was working in a bank—it folded, he was laid off. They had to sell their house and move into an apartment about the time Russel graduated from high school. His whole family was looking for work. Russel was strikingly handsome, still is, and being young and innocent he was courted, in a sense, by a married man, Sepulveda.

“You'll see that name all over town. He was big in real estate. Wealthy, powerful family. Could say the Sepulvedas founded LA. He took Russel and taught him real estate, made him a manager at twenty years old. That was about the time I met him, and I fell hard, but he didn't have time for me. Always had to meet his mentor for their liaisons. Can't tell you how many bruises and scrapes I saw on his body after he'd been with the old man. Broke my heart."

Fredrick's hand came to my arm, "You've got to promise you'll never mention this to anyone." He leaned close. "We blackmailed Sepulveda. Told him we'd go to the press if he didn't stop the bondage and torture.

“Russel's smart, he cut a deal for prime consideration on contracts with the county for keeping the Sepulveda name out of the papers. They terminated their personal relationship—Sepulveda probably had another boy in the wings. Russel opened his contracting business and hasn't stopped since. Russel’s name crosses the Sepulveda desk and we get the contract."

"Sepulveda's still with the county?"

"He's almost seventy now. Won't be able to keep his deal for much longer." He looked at me, "That's why Russel wants you and Romy working for him. He has a few good men now, but most have moved on to their own businesses, found another situation."

Fredrick’s voice was low, serious. "Maybe all this came from dirty deals and that’s the real world, baby boy."

So, Russel had almost outed his half-life to threaten a man living a double life? Clever, but more crooked than an Ozark back road. Didn't want to participate in any shady affairs yet I understood how he'd taken a bad situation alongside Fredrick and turned it to their favor.

"How did you fit in?"

"My mom was a bookkeeper, I helped her while I went to school. Hired on with the with the Internal Revenue Service right out of college. I was with them when I met Russel.

“When he left Sepulveda, I gave him the low-down on his taxes and how he could increase his profit margins from the tax returns I reviewed with the government. I became his accountant, confidant, his business partner. Now, my role is to keep him reigned in, he's full of ideas, some more lucrative than others. Lucrative beyond belief."

For the last time, "What about love?"

"That question." He shook his head. "That question kept me awake last night." He came to put his arm around my shoulders. "Whether you're a sod or not, a woman or a child, everyone needs to be loved. Many different ways to show love, many kinds of love."

I nodded.

"Let me think how to say this." He pressed his lips together and thought. "When Russel and I are apart, we're still together. Even when he's with another man, he keeps me with him, inside him. Can't say how I know it, but I feel it—that’s our love. Never has been any jealousy between us, we keep coming home to each other at night knowing we're greater together.” He paused. “Many kinds of love."

Fredrick was right about somethings... I had to think more about what he said.

***

Blood ran red in the streets yesterday. 

San Francisco's broad Embarcadero ran red with blood yesterday. The color stained clothing, sheets, flesh. Dripping. Human blood, bright as red begonias in the sun. A run of crimson crawled toward the curb.

Most of us came to hate the sight of red.
There was so much of it.

Anonymous witness to "Bloody Thursday," July 5, 1934. (Union actions, San Francisco)

***

Dear Mom and Dad,

Got a small place. Am patching and laying tarmac at the LA airport. All goes well. Please send your phone number, I'll call. Love, Dave

Along with that note, I sent her a clipping from the local business journal touting the new hires. Russel and Associates supported the NRA by hiring CCC employees—us.

Times were still tough on the streets; the economy was still dismal and Sister Amy's Angelus kept ladling out dinners and salvation.

***

In laborer's clothes, Romy and I began working as bottom-rung employees. Laid and patched tarmac, keeping the runways smooth for the burgeoning commercial airline travel.

Planes came from all over. Planes had different tires; I didn't have time to inspect them, and didn't want to. Patching tarmac was enough, and there were tricks to layering the substrate. The ground under LA often shook and settled; this job had no end. The generous salaries we earned didn't stop us from sweating.

While we worked, Russel asked us to watch our coworkers. We would eventually take over this contract, and we were picking the men we wanted to keep. A few workers were troublesome, but most of the men were grateful for steady work. They worked hard.

***

That first year, our crews were busy every day. Expanded to two trucks full of asphalt and equipment.

As we moved from crew, to crew supervisors, then management, a few men became disgruntled being passed over for better positions. They didn't produce enough good work any longer. Fredrick weeded them out. Began interviewing for others to fill their places after we rearranged the men we kept.

Hated firing men; Fredrick helped me make a letter of reference to smooth their transitions. Interviewing applicants was painful for me. I wanted to give every man a job, knowing how hard the streets were.

Fredrick taught us the right questions to ask, and signs of problem behavior. Body language, he called it and said it spoke louder than words. Most men carried spotty work histories, couldn't hold that against them.

Fredrick had friends at the police department to verify their clean records in Los Angeles City. Calling past employers and references was the easiest part of hiring.

***

Still, I hated interviewing. We expected a number of men answering our ad one morning. Cringed when of all people, my cousin Jonathan showed up.

There were several men in the waiting room, I saw Jonathan through the partially open door. Told Romy to expect trouble. Quickly explained my relationship with Jonathan to Fredrick and asked to sit out of the interview.

They wouldn't let me. This was part of business and I had to learn how to deal with it.

Wouldn't you know Jonathan wanted work as a supervisor telling us he had experience working at Angelus.

"Give me your manager's name, I'll call. I'm sure we'll get a good recommendation."

Jonathan couldn't give us one, he said that managers came and went at Angelus when they found other work.

Asked about his prior experience, “What jobs did you hold in Pennsylvania?”

Vague response.

Keeping my most serious business face on, "Well, what have you been doing?"

Tugging at his slacks, he smiled at me, "Quality work." He smiled. "Like you do." He glanced at Romy. "Had to come by after I saw your photo in the business journal." Grinned, lifting one eyebrow. "Such pretty boys doing so well."

Fredrick showed me how to deal with him: "Let's get down to brass tacks. Why are you here?"

Jonathan stayed cool, "Job would be good. Or, maybe something else. Share some of your success, we're family, after all." He hemmed and hawed for a while. "Proud of you and your little, well, we'll just say friend, for now."

Blackmail.

Fredrick wasn't upset with his talk. Romy and I seethed.

Tenting his fingertips together and leaning back in his chair, Fredrick said that he was the owner of this company, and that our family was quite proud of us already. "Yes, very proud, and if you'd like to negotiate some of that pride for yourself, my attorney handles those affairs."

He handed Jonathan his business card after he'd penciled in a phone number on it. "Speak with him about our extortion account." Then he leaned forward, "If I see you on or around any of our sites, we'll have you arrested. Sabe?"

Jonathan glared at me before he walked out of the office. Fredrick looked at me, "Is he really family?"

"Really is my cousin, unfortunately."

"Got to get the jump on him. Dinner by the pool tonight." He left early.

***

Russel rolled his eyes when Fredrick told him about Jonathan, "If he makes a move, we'll just hire some gals for the evening and make sure you two show up in the social columns. Like blondes or brunettes? Buxom redhead would spring you out of any innuendo."

Fredrick said we didn’t have to do anything yet.

***

Fredrick sent a telegram to the small town in Italy where Romy’s mother lived. We needed his birth certificate before he could get legit ID. That lit a spark of hope inside Romy, we awaited word from his mother and within the week, Fredrick handed him a telegram with a smile.

Sending papers via aéropostale. Returning next year. SCD.

Romy's mom, Serafina would send his birth certificate and was coming home.

***

Our lives were already in high gear, we were moving forward getting the airport contracts under control.

Within the next six months, we would be hiring for the greenhouse and taking over management of the rentals for short periods of time while Toddy and his family vacationed.

***

Fredrick and Russel guided us through the hurdles of taking over more responsibilities. Every week, we met with our crew supervisors for updates and dinner. Fredrick showed us how to handle problems and create reports for the county.

Lot of detailed reports; hired a secretary and a bookkeeper to keep all the paperwork in order.

Fredrick was stepping to the side with Russel after training our office staff. Didn’t have time to miss their help.

***

Earned every penny of our salaries. Keeping within budget, keeping the projects running smoothly wasn’t easy, but I had Romy by my side and our mentors in the background.

Still lived in the pool house, but we wanted privacy though really had no time to use it during those months.

***

Russel promoted us around town, made sure the business journals noted the "golden boys" of the CCC. Sent every one of them to Mom.

Being “golden boys” was a headache at times. Felt good to get paid and appreciated the way we were. With every sea breeze I remembered that boy on the beach with me for the first time, coconut raspas and him telling me we were going to make it.

Often overwhelmed, we kept pushing through. Fredrick kept telling us we’d adapt, learn and come to enjoy the business of business.

***

Fredrick had become a trusted confidant as well as an advisor to me; always spoke softly and explained things simply. I appreciated his advice; he appreciated my questions which were becoming much more complex every time we met.

After we enjoyed our early-morning swim, he told me that he and Russel wanted to take time to travel. I needed to delegate more work to staff.

"Toddy'll help you with the rentals, we're moving him up to handle the collections and oversee major repairs. We’re hiring Ona to keep the individual accounts. The final management decisions are yours."

"We need our own place. Romy's mother is coming next year, and, well, we need some privacy."

"You need a vacation. When was the last time you took a day off?"

"Can't remember."

He smiled and nodded, and leaned to kiss my cheek tenderly, "If I had a son, he would be you. I'll speak with Russel and get you a few days off."

Coming in Chapter 6:

Dodging trouble doesn’t get rid of it.

A vacation? Wonder where our guys will go.