Blind hearts-ManxMan-boyxboy

pick me up

Unmindful of Dimov’s cloudiness, Charles dropped himself by Dimov’s and inserted himself rather jerkily on the Dimov’s armrest. Dimov kept by his stoniness while Charles had warm but worried look in his eyes as he stroked the short tufts of Dimov’s hair. “The bulky manly Ukrainian who burnt his suit.” He was cutting.

Dimov colored immediately, suppressed the bead of a memory of his first meeting with Charles, the room service boy. Then he had been, as Charles would say, a twenty-one year old with a frowning problem. If he must, he could dredge up the sepia aura of the hotel room, or the image of the carbon-hard gauze embossed on the suit breast pocket, or the alienating New York skyline, dark and discomforting, or that he had an eight am interview at a finance firm the next day.

If he must … but these days, the exuberant can-do Charles with hair of stiff peaks was all he could conjure of that night.  The man saved him, and the man was leaving him.

Charles moved his head about like cat playing with a spool of yarn. He caught Dimov’s eye and motioned slyly to Alex feeling the softness of the bed, “You managed a cute one.” Dimov sank back in his chair, tense with hurt. Still unmindful, Charles gave a final ruffle before moving off the chair for his suitcase on the bed.

Unengaged on the bed, Alex began rubbing his knuckle against his lips like he would rather be stroking something else. The wall mirror beside him was reflecting a single bed and its ruffles and folds of ruined sheets, Charles, prancing about the bed, undecided over the glimmering grey shirt or the glimmering black shirt and Glenda laying out her makeup case from her suitcase.

“The universe is so good and amazing today,” she frittered with glee then flurried into the bathroom to change. With the door bang still ringing, Dimov looked over to Charles to explain what good news of no significance he had missed.

Charles cooed, “She got herself a opera audition for the Orange County opera.”

“Orange County?” Alex bristled with an urge to divulge his personal details.

But before Charles could answer, Glenda emerged again, the frills of her blouse generous over her bosom, a lipstick like a baton in her left hand.  The moment became pregnant with compliments that should be said. 

“Oh dear, please take a seat.  We’ll be out of you boys’ way in no time.” She towed Alex away from the mirror and sat him at the corner of the bed closest to Dimov. 

While Charles disappeared into the bathroom, her woody flowery scent blossomed in the space between them.  Dimov kept his eye on Charles still indecisive over shirts. Alex crossed his legs, whittled away smilingly under the spectacles of Glenda’s twinkling eyes.

“So,” she began as she applied lipstick in the mirror. “Where you from, Sunshine?”

“Los Angeles,” Alex said.

“Really?  Amazing how the Universe is good and amazing today.  We all live in a West Hollywood. Dimov’s our kind and benevolent landlord.”

“Kind … I need proof of that.” Alex gave Dimov a daring smirk.

“Posh! Dimov’s a squeeze.” She rubbed her lips to smear tamarind-red lipstick. “Just talk about poker and pot odds and see him squee like a girl.”

“Dimov squeeing like a girl, that’s something to see.” Alex nodded knowingly. “

With Glenda’s face to the mirror, Alex was amused with Dimov persevering in his flinty air, rolling his lips at the closed bathroom door. Then Charles came out of the bathroom looking quite squat in a sequined green shirt.

“What exactly is that?” Dimov asked coldly.

“It makes a statement.”

“I like it,” Glenda chirped.