Over-the-Counter

2. Shopping

The Old World Coffee Shop was a sweet little affair with a European bistro jutting out into the mall. It was a perfect place for those of us who sometimes sit alone and watch the outer countenance of those about us. It was also a great place for cruising men or whatever floats your boat. In this case, for Matthew Kieler, it was a zone of impatience. He sat with a tall cup of iced coffee, watching every person that passed by, anxious for Dean's form and shape. Twice he thought he saw Dean; but twice he was wrong. His stomach was in a knot. Matt was positive now that he was being stood up. It had happened before. Why shouldn't it happen again. Coffee Shop meetings, to put off the inevitable and to get out of the conversation with ease; it was the oldest trick in the book.

But no, Dean came. He was late, and was a bit out of breath as he entered the shop looking for the cutie that spied him from the racks.

"Thank God," thought Matt as he signaled.

"Sorry, I'm late," said Dean sitting with little grace. "I had a big sale just as I was closing."

"Another purple tie?" asked Matt.

"No," said Dean. "That was my biggest sale of the day. Coffee?"

"Actually," drawled Matt, "I've had two cups while I waited; and one of these icy things."

There was a long, silent pause. Had the conversation run out already? Matt shyly fidgeted.

"I'm gonna get one of those big fucking chocolate chip cookies," said Dean.

He darted over to the counter to order one, looking back at Matt, watching him fidget. Returning, Dean sat and broke the cookie in two.

"Half?" he asked.

"OK," said Matt.

They both begin to munch.

"Well, Matt," said Dean still looking for the point of conversation, "do you cruise the Mall often?"

"Never," said Matt. "What kind of person do you think I am? Easy."

"Well, maybe not easy," said Dean, "but you cruised me for at least a half-hour, with all the skill of seasoned hunter. Then, you came and babble all that crap about never having done this before."

"Well I haven't. I come to the Mall to shop."

"I bet you do."

"No, really," protested Matt. "I've seen good looking men in the mall before, but I never had an interest, least the courage to further an acquaintance."

"Further an acquaintance?" said Dean. "I like that. I really like the way you talk. What do you do? Are you into the writing arts?"

"No," said Matt. "Computers. "

"Computers? Really?"

"I work at Axum Labs," said Matt. "I'm a researcher. I also write code for PCs."

"PCs!" said Dean. "I'd like to get one of those. They're hot. My friend Russ has a Commodore. He's got this flight simulator game, I can play for hours."

"Well, I don't write games," said Matt. "I'm mostly into network research. You know, connectivity and packets."

"Packets, eh? Sounds like interesting work. Have you been there long?"

"Only since April. My folks moved up from Texas. My Dad's a civilian expert for the Air Force at Macguire. I'm a homeboy at heart - born and raised in Houston. When he got transferred to Macguire, I managed to get Axum to transfer me up here."

"So you live with your parents?" asked Dean.

"No, I have my own place here in Eatontown."

Dean smiled widely. He felt like he was interviewing for the late night news.

"What does a Houston boy find for fun here in New Jersey?"

"Actually," said Matt, "I haven't had too much fun since I've been here."

"Does you folks know you're gay?"

"They know. We don't speak about it so much, but they were bound to know. My sister is real cool about it. I rarely say much to my Mom and Dad. Are you out to your parents?"

"It's only my mom, and she knows," said Dean. "She's pretty supportive - in fact, a bit over-supportive. She's becoming a real fag hag?"

"Well, it's been hard for me away from Houston."

"You like all that heat?"

"No, it's not that," said Matt. "I had someone in Houston. I was together with a fine young man. We were together for nearly four years."

"An old story," said Dean. "I had a live in for about 2 years. But, he was easy to get over. He was into everything. An expensive fucker to support on a retail salary."

"Well mine was a sweetheart," said Matt. "A true gentleman?"

"Was?" said Dean. "Is he . . . ."

"Yes," said Matt sadly.

The conversation broke off for a bit. It was clear to Dean that Matt was drifting away to another time and place.

"He was a dancer in Melrose," said Matt finally. "He sang with the heart of heaven. His Judy Garland was divine."

"Drag queen?"

"No, not really," he said. "Well, yes - I guess. But I never saw him that way. I met him before I knew his act. Then, when I saw it, it made me fonder."

A quiet tear streaked Matt's face.

"Well, Matt," said Dean, "let's not depress each other. It's Christmas. Whatever happened in the past is locked in our memory; and we can snuggle into them as we get to know each other better."

"I guess you're right," said Matt. "And are you from Eatontown?"

"Hell no," said Dean. "I'm from Brooklyn. But my folks moved to Monmouth mainly for my Dad and his mental health."

"Mental health?"

"Yes, he needed to be near the Race Track or he'd go mad. Instead he managed to go broke. He's gone now - Emphysema. And Mom does nails in Long Branch. As for me, I specialize in matching ties to customer's tastes and fancy."

"A career boy," remarked Matt.

"Now, Mr. PC programmer, don't mock retail. Where else can you fart and fuss over Yves St Laurant without having to buy him. And the clientele can be real frustrating and the management a sack of shit, but every once in a while an angel face comes along and invites you to have a cup of coffee."

"But we're not even drinking coffee," said Matt.

"No, we're shopping. I'm in the market for eyes today. And that's what I saw today. A pair of eyes in a size ten shoe."

"Twelve," said Matt.

"Oh, honey," said Dean, "go to twelve and a half and I'll forget the eyes altogether and well be in the market for BVDs. So, you see you are in retail after all."

"You're funny," said Matt. "You make me laugh. I need to laugh."

"At Christmas time we all need to laugh," said Dean.

The silence returned. Matt seamed to drift away again.

"What was his name?" asked Dean finally.

"Daniel," said Matt. "His stage name was Valva Lean. He was a small kid with dark eyes, like you. A Mexicana. Daniel Flores. I once told him he should have taken the stage name Diana Flowers, but he would sputter in his broken English, 'Tu madre.' But my mom really liked him. She knew what he was to me. We just never speak about it."

"Valva Lean."

"Houston's a pretty rough place for gay men," said Matt.

"I thought Texas was all Queers and Steers."

"Right," said Matt. "Tell that to the Bible belters. Well, Danny closed his show one night with a spicy little number and some drunken fuck in the audience started to heckle. Danny went to town on him and had the whole audience peeing their pants, he did such a number on that guy. But, no one can ever tell the depth of hate to which the human heart can stoop. That heckler, that fucking bastard waited for my Danny. He waited for him."

Matt started to cry. His lips quivered and his fists clenched.

"Now Matt," said Dean, "we shouldn't talk about this if it's going to upset you. Christmas spirits are in jeopardy."

"You're right," said Matt. "You're right."

"Let's talk about my miserable ex instead," said Dean. "He's still some where, but I could give a fuck as to where. We were in love once. I met him in a T-Room at the Cave. He was . . . well, he had attributes. So we hooked up and he moved in. The first 3 months were great. I called in sick a lot, it was so great. But, he was hooked on shit - and was out of work. We then began a cycle of arguments and worry and . . . I don't think I ever want to become a caretaker again for someone so irresponsible. What a drain! Then, one day I came home and he was legs-in-the-air with another guy. Out he went!"

Matt was half there, half listening.

"I got a call from Danny's brother," said Matt in a monotone, "that they found Danny beaten and cut behind the Club. His body was so pulverized, I could barely recognize him. It's was so hard."

"Aren't we the gloomy twins," said Dean taking Matt's hand across the table.

"I'm sorry," said Matt. "We're not getting off to a good start."

"Fuck the past. And while we're at it, fuck the future. Right now's important. And to what we need is to visit my friend Russell."

"Russell?"

"Next door there's a Smiles Tuxedo Shop," said Dean. "My friend Russ works there. He's the queeniest queen you've ever met. A real hoot, and my best friend. C'mon. Let's see what he's got planned for tonight."

Dean stood slamming his part of the bill down on the table.

"Wait," said Matt.

"What's the matter?" said Dean. "Are you getting cold feet here. I mean, we can skip the pleasantries and head straight for your place."

"No, I want to get to know you better first."

"Well, you can wait for the autobiography or you can come with me to shop for formalwear? There's always the Men's room, but I don't do that anymore, in this age of crap."

Matt stood.

"You be my guide then. Lead on."

So it began, a path away from the past and a leap into the future via the tuxedo shop next door.

"Don't forget your package," said Dean.

Matt smiled and grabbed the little parcel with that ugly purple tie sleeping quietly for ages to come, a little beacon of hope and anticipation.

"To Smiles!"

To Smiles and Russell Haye!

Next Chapter

Over-the-Counter Encounter

		2. Shopping The Old World Coffee Shop was a sweet little affair with a European bistro jutting out into the mall. It was a perfect place for those of us who sometimes sit alone and watch the outer countenance of those about us. It was also a great place for cruising men or whatever floats your boat. In this case, for Matthew Kieler, it was a zone of impatience. He sat with a tall cup of iced coffee, watching every person that passed by, anxious for Dean's form and shape. Twice he thought he saw Dean; but twice he was wrong. His stomach was in a knot. Matt was positive now that he was being stood up. It had happened before. Why shouldn't it happen again. Coffee Shop meetings, to put off the inevitable and to get out of the conversation with ease; it was the oldest trick in the book. But no, Dean came. He was late, and was a bit out of breath as he entered the shop looking for the cutie that spied him from the racks. "Thank God," thought Matt as he signaled. "Sorry, I'm late," said Dean sitting with little grace. "I had a big sale just as I was closing." "Another purple tie?" asked Matt. "No," said Dean. "That was my biggest sale of the day. Coffee?" "Actually," drawled Matt, "I've had two cups while I waited; and one of these icy things." There was a long, silent pause. Had the conversation run out already? Matt shyly fidgeted. "I'm gonna get one of those big fucking chocolate chip cookies," said Dean. He darted over to the counter to order one, looking back at Matt, watching him fidget. Returning, Dean sat and broke the cookie in two. "Half?" he asked. "OK," said Matt. They both begin to munch. "Well, Matt," said Dean still looking for the point of conversation, "do you cruise the Mall often?" "Never," said Matt. "What kind of person do you think I am? Easy." "Well, maybe not easy," said Dean, "but you cruised me for at least a half-hour, with all the skill of seasoned hunter. Then, you came and babble all that crap about never having done this before." "Well I haven't. I come to the Mall to shop." "I bet you do." "No, really," protested Matt. "I've seen good looking men in the mall before, but I never had an interest, least the courage to further an acquaintance." "Further an acquaintance?" said Dean. "I like that. I really like the way you talk. What do you do? Are you into the writing arts?" "No," said Matt. "Computers. " "Computers? Really?" "I work at Axum Labs," said Matt. "I'm a researcher. I also write code for PCs." "PCs!" said Dean. "I'd like to get one of those. They're hot. My friend Russ has a Commodore. He's got this flight simulator game, I can play for hours." "Well, I don't write games," said Matt. "I'm mostly into network research. You know, connectivity and packets." "Packets, eh? Sounds like interesting work. Have you been there long?" "Only since April. My folks moved up from Texas. My Dad's a civilian expert for the Air Force at Macguire. I'm a homeboy at heart - born and raised in Houston. When he got transferred to Macguire, I managed to get Axum to transfer me up here." "So you live with your parents?" asked Dean. "No, I have my own place here in Eatontown." Dean smiled widely. He felt like he was interviewing for the late night news. "What does a Houston boy find for fun here in New Jersey?" "Actually," said Matt, "I haven't had too much fun since I've been here." "Does you folks know you're gay?" "They know. We don't speak about it so much, but they were bound to know. My sister is real cool about it. I rarely say much to my Mom and Dad. Are you out to your parents?" "It's only my mom, and she knows," said Dean. "She's pretty supportive - in fact, a bit over-supportive. She's becoming a real fag hag?" "Well, it's been hard for me away from Houston." "You like all that heat?" "No, it's not that," said Matt. "I had someone in Houston. I was together with a fine young man. We were together for nearly four years." "An old story," said Dean. "I had a live in for about 2 years. But, he was easy to get over. He was into everything. An expensive fucker to support on a retail salary." "Well mine was a sweetheart," said Matt. "A true gentleman?" "Was?" said Dean. "Is he . . . ." "Yes," said Matt sadly. The conversation broke off for a bit. It was clear to Dean that Matt was drifting away to another time and place. "He was a dancer in Melrose," said Matt finally. "He sang with the heart of heaven. His Judy Garland was divine." "Drag queen?" "No, not really," he said. "Well, yes - I guess. But I never saw him that way. I met him before I knew his act. Then, when I saw it, it made me fonder." A quiet tear streaked Matt's face. "Well, Matt," said Dean, "let's not depress each other. It's Christmas. Whatever happened in the past is locked in our memory; and we can snuggle into them as we get to know each other better." "I guess you're right," said Matt. "And are you from Eatontown?" "Hell no," said Dean. "I'm from Brooklyn. But my folks moved to Monmouth mainly for my Dad and his mental health." "Mental health?" "Yes, he needed to be near the Race Track or he'd go mad. Instead he managed to go broke. He's gone now - Emphysema. And Mom does nails in Long Branch. As for me, I specialize in matching ties to customer's tastes and fancy." "A career boy," remarked Matt. "Now, Mr. PC programmer, don't mock retail. Where else can you fart and fuss over Yves St Laurant without having to buy him. And the clientele can be real frustrating and the management a sack of shit, but every once in a while an angel face comes along and invites you to have a cup of coffee." "But we're not even drinking coffee," said Matt. "No, we're shopping. I'm in the market for eyes today. And that's what I saw today. A pair of eyes in a size ten shoe." "Twelve," said Matt. "Oh, honey," said Dean, "go to twelve and a half and I'll forget the eyes altogether and well be in the market for BVDs. So, you see you are in retail after all." "You're funny," said Matt. "You make me laugh. I need to laugh." "At Christmas time we all need to laugh," said Dean. The silence returned. Matt seamed to drift away again. "What was his name?" asked Dean finally. "Daniel," said Matt. "His stage name was Valva Lean. He was a small kid with dark eyes, like you. A Mexicana. Daniel Flores. I once told him he should have taken the stage name Diana Flowers, but he would sputter in his broken English, 'Tu madre.' But my mom really liked him. She knew what he was to me. We just never speak about it." "Valva Lean." "Houston's a pretty rough place for gay men," said Matt. "I thought Texas was all Queers and Steers." "Right," said Matt. "Tell that to the Bible belters. Well, Danny closed his show one night with a spicy little number and some drunken fuck in the audience started to heckle. Danny went to town on him and had the whole audience peeing their pants, he did such a number on that guy. But, no one can ever tell the depth of hate to which the human heart can stoop. That heckler, that fucking bastard waited for my Danny. He waited for him." Matt started to cry. His lips quivered and his fists clenched. "Now Matt," said Dean, "we shouldn't talk about this if it's going to upset you. Christmas spirits are in jeopardy." "You're right," said Matt. "You're right." "Let's talk about my miserable ex instead," said Dean. "He's still some where, but I could give a fuck as to where. We were in love once. I met him in a T-Room at the Cave. He was . . . well, he had attributes. So we hooked up and he moved in. The first 3 months were great. I called in sick a lot, it was so great. But, he was hooked on shit - and was out of work. We then began a cycle of arguments and worry and . . . I don't think I ever want to become a caretaker again for someone so irresponsible. What a drain! Then, one day I came home and he was legs-in-the-air with another guy. Out he went!" Matt was half there, half listening. "I got a call from Danny's brother," said Matt in a monotone, "that they found Danny beaten and cut behind the Club. His body was so pulverized, I could barely recognize him. It's was so hard." "Aren't we the gloomy twins," said Dean taking Matt's hand across the table. "I'm sorry," said Matt. "We're not getting off to a good start." "Fuck the past. And while we're at it, fuck the future. Right now's important. And to what we need is to visit my friend Russell." "Russell?" "Next door there's a Smiles Tuxedo Shop," said Dean. "My friend Russ works there. He's the queeniest queen you've ever met. A real hoot, and my best friend. C'mon. Let's see what he's got planned for tonight." Dean stood slamming his part of the bill down on the table. "Wait," said Matt. "What's the matter?" said Dean. "Are you getting cold feet here. I mean, we can skip the pleasantries and head straight for your place." "No, I want to get to know you better first." "Well, you can wait for the autobiography or you can come with me to shop for formalwear? There's always the Men's room, but I don't do that anymore, in this age of crap." Matt stood. "You be my guide then. Lead on." So it began, a path away from the past and a leap into the future via the tuxedo shop next door. "Don't forget your package," said Dean. Matt smiled and grabbed the little parcel with that ugly purple tie sleeping quietly for ages to come, a little beacon of hope and anticipation. "To Smiles!" To Smiles and Russell Haye! Next Chapter

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