Chapter 3 #2
After going to Human Resources and ending up at the cashier’s office where they told me what my sign-in bonus would be, and they even opened up a bank account for me at the bank they did business with.
I discovered I would start on Monday to my delight.
The Christmas party would be tomorrow, and I still had time to purchase a suit and shirt and a pair of shoes.
When I left the shops on Fifth Avenue with a purchase of a Tom Ford suit, a suit I thought I would never look at without it rendering me blind.
Those salesmen are good. He convinced me that if I bought this suit and wore it, I could have whomever my heart desired.
And I even bought a bottle of cologne for an outrageous sum.
After admitting to the salesman that I was gay, he had said that he knew. How I didn’t ask him, and I didn’t care. He had sold me on the dream of that suit and what came with it.
I even caught a cab instead of the bus, although I’d prefer to ride the bus.
I rushed up the stairs in this building without an elevator and opened the door to that walkup apartment I shared with my two friends.
Marty had arrived home first, and he was cooking.
He was the resident cook, and he enjoyed every minute of it.
He cooked because ‘he loved it,’ he’d said, ‘...and it brought joy to me and his fiancé.’ No one could afford to eat out and he was saving us money.
He wanted to open his own restaurant one day.
“I got the job.” I said, my heart racing, not because of the stairs, but because of the excitement of knowing I finally found a profession I had worked hard for.
Sitting at the small bar with the table nearby backing up to the window looking into another apartment, I said, “Finally I’ll be able to pay you back and get an apartment on my own.”
Marty stopped what he was doing and smiled. “I’m happy for you, Clay. But I wouldn’t be counting my chickens before they hatched as my mother would say. There is no way you’re going to make that kind of money as an intern.”
Marty and his fiancé were working, but I had yet to find anything that would pay a living wage.
I’d managed to pay my part of the rent and utilities by borrowing from my parents, but that wasn’t going to last. My parents couldn’t afford me living away from them and they asked me to return home.
I’d considered it, but I had to keep trying and look what happened.
“Yes.” I raised my hands above my head. “You are looking at a man who is working for one of the biggest law firms in New York. And we’re going to celebrate tonight. I brought some wine.” I waved it in Marty’s direction.
Marty reached in the bag and pulled out the wine. “Sweetie, this is too expensive for us. You need to go back and get your money because we are going to need it because the landlord just raised the rent.”
“What the fuck. You’re paying four figures for this apartment now. Your cat doesn’t want to stay here,” I said. “I have enough to get an apartment from my bonus money, and you can share it with me.”
Marty turned and walked back to chopping the vegetables. “You can’t afford a large apartment in this city. You would have to be working for... Mason and Halifax. Now that’s a law firm. I heard once you get in with them your worries are over.”
“Well, my friend, our worries are over because I was hired by non-other than Mr. Mason himself. He told me to call him Mason. Not Mr. Mason but Mason.”
“Whatever you do, don’t fuck him.”
“He’s a straight dude, Marty. Has a wife and everything and they’ve been married over ten years.” It was a good thing Marty didn’t know what I was thinking.
“Make sure he stays that way because the minute you get your dream job and you get to fucking around with any of the employees, then that’s the end of it.”
“There is a Christmas party tomorrow night, and Mason asked me personally to go. He said I would be expected to show. Meaning if I didn’t then don’t show up for work Monday.”
“Whatever you do don’t drink too much and sleep with anyone. Tyler and I met at a Christmas party and it ended with us sleeping together and getting drunk and forgetting to go to work the next day. That’s why they shouldn’t have parties on a weekday.”
“It’s not on a weekday Marty. It’s Friday. Like tomorrow. And I’ll be super careful not to drink or fuck a stranger.” Especially someone who works for Morgan and Halifax, I thought. I didn’t drink much, therefore, that wouldn’t be on to-do list.
“What do you have in those packages?” Marty asked, looking away from his preparation of salad for tonight’s dinner.
I scrambled through the large fancy shopping bag, reached for the top box and opened it and judiciously held up the suit after I’d reached for a towel and wiped my hands.
Marty strode around after cleaning his hands and wiping them to touch the fabric and check the designer label.
“Fuck me, but that is a Tom Ford. I’d give Tyler up for a Tom Ford suit any day of the week. ”