He accepted a Coke can from the skinny kid and took a large drink. He swallowed and coughed violently before spitting a mouthful of the liquid to the ground.
Ricky’s eyes grew wide in disbelief.
“What the heck is this?” Carlos coughed out.
“Seagram’s Seven.” Ricky laughed. “It keeps you warm on a cold night.”
“Oh,” he said, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s so funny?”
“Heck is. I haven’t used that word since I was three years old. Out here it’s called hell and damn and shit, not heck and darn and shoot.”
“Oh.” Carlos looked around to make sure no one else had heard his childish vocabulary.
“How old are you, Carlos?”
“Eighteen,” he lied without hesitating even a second.
Ricky smiled. “Honey, I’m not a cop, so you don’t have to lie to me. I’m only sixteen, myself.”
“I’m eighteen,” Carlos said defiantly as he stared at the street.
“Mmm-hmm. First time on the street?”
“Oh, no. My mom goes to see a doctor a couple of blocks up few times a year. Sometimes I go with her.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve got a lot to learn out here. I meant is this your first time hustling.”
“Why do you keep calling me ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’? We’re both guys.”
Ricky looked truly shocked, and raised one eyebrow cautiously as he stared at the newcomer. Because Carlos was walking up Geary Street at midnight, Ricky had assumed he was gay and a hustler. Now he wasn’t so sure of either, and thought about the consequences of carrying on and assuming too much. Though Carlos was not built overly big, Ricky was sure he could cause considerable damage to his own scrawny body if provoked.
“Just a term we use. Listen, Carlos, what are you doing out here? You’re obviously not a hustler.”
Carlos’ eyes fell back to the ground and he shifted his feet nervously. He didn’t like to talk about his problems with anyone, and especially not strangers. But it was cold outside, and Ricky seemed nice enough. What the heck, he thought, then corrected himself: What the hell?
“Could I have another drink of that?” Carlos asked, and nodded toward the Coke can.
Ricky passed the whiskey to Carlos and waited for him to begin his story. He had nothing better to do, and since it was still early, he doubted he would be picked up for a while yet, if at all. Lately, it seemed all the johns were looking for the masculine type—young and innocent, but masculine. Ricky looked at his new friend and thought how well he would do out there on the street if he really wanted to. He was definitely young, and his jet-black hair, bright blue eyes, and light brown skin gave him an unparalleled beauty. His little peach fuzz of a mustache blessed him with that look of masculine innocence.
Ricky sighed, partly in admiration but mostly in self-pity. He was almost the exact opposite of Carlos. He was three or four inches taller than Carlos, but weighed about the same, possibly even less. Too skinny. He was very pale-skinned, with dirty blond hair and even dirtier brown eyes that rarely, if ever, allowed expression. No mustache, heaven forbid. He wore makeup and girls’ jeans, size 1, to enhance his ass, which was much too flat. No sign of masculinity here, Ricky thought, and sighed again.
“I don’t know where to start,” Carlos said, pulling Ricky out of his trance.
“How about starting by giving me a drink of that and telling me why you’re out here,” Ricky said as he lit a cigarette.
Carlos stared at Ricky with fascination.
“What are you staring at?” Ricky asked, blowing a mouthful of smoke into the air.
“Your parents let you smoke?”
“Yeah,” Ricky said, laughing, “sort of. You never smoked before?”
“No,” Carlos answered softly.
“Wanna try?”
“Sure.”
Carlos took the cigarette from Ricky and held it for a moment, trying to build the courage to bring it to his lips. Finally he closed his eyes and put the unfiltered tip to his mouth. He drew a small amount of smoke into his mouth and left it there for only a couple of seconds before blowing it out quickly.
“Doesn’t do anything for me,” Carlos said with a look of distaste.
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t unless you inhale it.” Ricky laughed.
“What do you mean?”
“Do it again, only this time swallow the smoke.”
“Swallow it?” Carlos sounded horrified.
“Sure. Like this,” Ricky said, and demonstrated the barbaric act of inhaling smoke into his lungs. He blew the smoke out in rings.
“Wow!”
“Here, now you try it.”
Carlos was excited and nervous at the same time, so when he drew in the smoke he pulled in too much, and when he swallowed it, he swallowed too fast. Instead of blowing the smoke out in rings, he bellowed out a cough of smoke and spittle. It sprayed all over Ricky, and his new friend broke into a laugh. Carlos saw absolutely nothing funny in the fact that his lungs were on fire and he was choking to death. When he finally stopped coughing, his eyes were filled with tears. His lungs still burned as he leaned against the wall to breathe in some fresh air.
“Well, what do you think?” Ricky asked, still trying to stop laughing.
“It tried to kill me!”
This brought on another outburst of laughter from Ricky, and he passed the Coke can to Carlos. “Here, maybe this will help.”
Carlos took the can and finished off what was left of the whiskey. His throat felt raw from the smoke, and the alcohol burned as it went down. But it was somehow soothing, and he was getting used to it by now.
Ricky had noticed a silver Honda circling the block a few times while he was showing Carlos the fine art of inhaling. It now pulled up to the curb and the passenger window was rolled down.
“I’ll be back in about an hour,” Ricky told Carlos. “Stick around for a while. When I get back I’ll bring a fresh bottle of Seagram’s and some food.”
Carlos watched, fascinated, as Ricky swished over to the car and leaned into the passenger window. He could see the driver gesturing toward him as he talked with Ricky for a few seconds before Ricky turned around and walked back to him.
“He wants you.” Ricky sulked.
“For what?” Carlos asked nervously.
Ricky smiled. “He wants to have sex with you, child.”
“Sex?” Carlos whispered. He was astonished. “I’ve never had sex with a guy before.”
“Ever have sex with a girl?”
“Well,” Carlos hesitated, “…no.”
“Then there’s no problem, is there? You won’t know the difference.”
Carlos didn’t quite get the reasoning behind that, but the Seagram’s had worked its magic on him, and he agreed with Ricky.
“Good. Just lay there and let him suck you off. You don’t do anything to him. And whatever you do, don’t let him turn you onto your stomach.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s my position. Besides, you wouldn’t like what happens next if you do.” Ricky noticed the guy in the car was getting