Pay and Pay

Chapter 5

THE balmy, sunny days of June that the inhabitants fondly believed represented summer in the city gradually gave way to the far less pleasant reality of the season. By the end of July, the dog days had begun in earnest, and the city stewed in unrelenting heat and humidity that continued day and night without relief. The only difference that marked the night from the day was the absence of the hazy sun shining through the smog covering the city. At night the moon's feeble glow couldn't even penetrate that.

It was just getting dark when Mike left the drop-in centre. He'd had a shower and his hair clung still damp to his head. He'd combed it back behind his ears, hoping it would dry that way. He hadn't been able to get it any drier with the towel. His hair hung almost to his shoulders, but at least it was long enough that it didn't fall onto his face that much. It was Saturday night and it was time to make some money.

He was wearing an undershirt and his jacket hung from one finger over his shoulder. He had been mad when he couldn't find another t-shirt in the clothing exchange to put on after his shower. The old one was dirty and smelled; he'd had it on for four days. The undershirt hugged his torso and showed his broad chest and flat stomach to good effect, or so the whistles he had gotten from some of the other kids at the centre told him. One of the girls had said he looked good. He had felt like a total fag, but he knew he was hot.

Even though it was Saturday and just around the right time, he was sure that there wouldn't be much action with the ladies on Yonge because of the heat. They'd all be at home with their air conditioners watching TV, not out with their girlfriends for dinner or dancing. He decided to give it a try anyway, and turned north at the corner. He felt a trickle of sweat run down the middle of his back along his spine.

"What a fucking place," he thought. "Three months ago, I was freezing my ass off and now it's like being in a friggin' oven. Why can't it ever be just right?"

Mike stopped after a couple of blocks and leaned against a hydrant. A few doors to his left was a strip club. He'd never been in it, but it looked really classy from the outside. The pictures of the dancers were pretty hot too. He heard they turned tricks, but they never had to walk the streets to find a date like the girls he knew. Off to his right was a new bar. It had only been open a few weeks, but he didn't remember what had been there before. The whole front of the building had been renovated, all plate glass from floor to ceiling, even the door. The glass was smoky, almost brown, and beyond a few chairs and a table in the window, all you could see of the inside from the street were shining points of brightness floating in the air where fancy lights hung down from the ceiling. Whenever the door opened, Mike heard snatches of "Call Me," which was very cool, or "Cars," or some other popular song playing very loudly. He knew that if he had a car, he'd just drive and drive and you wouldn't see his ass for dust. He'd go and he'd never stop. He wouldn't be running away; he was just bored with life there in the city.

He slowly looked back and forth between the doors of the strip club and the bar. He was waiting for someone to come out. It didn't matter if it was a man or a woman, as long as they were alone. If it was a chick, he'd try his luck. If it was a guy, he might get some change or a cigarette. You never knew, though. Sometimes those guys might be worth a try; you had to check them out anyway. One of the problems with weekends was that most of the time when you saw a chick, she was with someone. There wasn't even any point in trying when they were with a guy, and nine times out of ten, if they were with their friends, it was just as bad.

He flipped his jacket off his shoulder and fished for his cigarettes and lighter. After lighting one, he put them back and tied the arms of the jacket around his waist. He was getting tired of holding it. He ran his fingers back through his hair. It was a little bit drier, but it was still warm and damp, only now it wasn't just the water from the shower. He was sweating enough just standing there that his hair would't dry for another couple of hours unless he got in somewhere with air conditioning. He continued to wait and watch.