Chapter Five
The Attercop sat on the floor of his living room leaning against the side of an armchair.
He’d spent the last few hours combing through the client notes he had photographed at Michael Colton’s office the night before last. Declan’s problems were copious—fear of rejection, absence of respect for authority and a total lack of self-preservation.
He was possibly a functional alcoholic, and also prone to compulsive sexual behaviour. Some of this The Attercop already knew.
He giggled softly. She could have been describing me.
The Attercop began reading a series of notes from eighteen months ago.
They concerned Declan’s habit of working out his frustrations on sexual partners at the baths, although always with willing participants.
The Attercop stroked himself as he read the confessions of Declan’s escapades at The Greek.
Most interesting to The Attercop were the accounts of Declan’s childhood traumas.
There was the death of his mother—Very sad.
Then there was his unsympathetic and homophobic father—Well, that sounds familiar.
And there was a story of a kid who’d forced Declan out of the closet in his early teens—Got me there.
I came out on my very own. It was all horrible, and yet delightfully exciting.
We have so many things in common, you and I.
The Attercop grew bored of reading. He poured himself another vodka and turned his attention to the audio recordings he had copied from Dr Colton’s computer.
He cast them to his stereo system so he could surround himself with the husky voice of Declan Hunt confessing his deepest, darkest secrets.
It felt like Declan was telling him everything… personally.
Many of the sessions on tape were the same as the notes he had already read, so The Attercop went back to the computer, looking for something more recent. He selected a session that had happened two months prior to today’s date. Declan’s voice cracked on the recording.
“I didn’t know I could love someone as much as I do Charlie. I guess I never thought I deserved to have someone like him come into my life. And right now, I don’t want anyone else.”
There was a pause.
“I’m sensing that something is bothering you, though,” Dr Colton prompted.
“It’s these dreams I’ve been having lately.”
Oh, dreams! This could be good, The Attercop thought.
“What sorts of dreams?” Dr Colton asked.
“They’re about one of the young guys Mickey hires to help out at the bar. It’s always the same dream. Angel—that’s his name—Angel and I are having sex on the bar. And then Charlie walks in. And then I wake up feeling incredibly guilty.”
Declan stopped talking. The Attercop leaned closer to the speaker.
Maybe he isn’t so in love with Charlie after all.
“So why do you think you feel guilty?” Dr Colton asked.
Declan replied, “It sounds stupid feeling guilty about a dream, but…I don’t want to cheat on Charlie, and I’m afraid that I’ll slip back into my old habits. I don’t want to hurt him just for a quick fuck.”
“So do you think you might actually act on your fantasy?”
Oh, say “Yes”. Please say “Yes”!
“I don’t know.”
“Have you told Charlie about the dream?” Dr Colton asked.
“No.”
“Well, maybe you should.”
“I don’t think he’d like that.”
“Why?” Dr Colton asked. “You don’t think Charlie has ever had fantasies about other men?”
Of course, he has. We all do. Anyone with a cock does, at least.
“That’s not the point,” Declan countered. “How do you think he’d react if I said, ‘Hey, babe, I’ve been dreaming about fucking this hot guy at the bar’?”
“Look,” Dr Colton said, “for the first time in your life you’re navigating the idea of commitment, and it isn’t going to come without bumps along the way.
To me, the fact that you’re expressing guilt means that you are transitioning into a new phase in your personal life.
If the two of you want to commit to one another, the most important thing is to have clear communication. ”
I think he’s afraid.
“I just don’t want to fuck this up,” Declan confessed. “What if I slip and for some stupid reason act on my dreams?”
“Then you probably aren’t as committed to Charlie as you think you are—”
Interesting.
“—but the fact that you are feeling guilt…that’s a sign things are shifting for you.
We’ve talked about guilt a lot in our previous sessions.
About your mother’s death, about your feelings of failure with your father.
The key thing is, you have to start talking about these things with the people involved and get to the truth so you can move past your guilt.
So, in this case, talk to Charlie. And maybe stay away from that Angel kid. ”
The Attercop shut off the stereo and sauntered over to the bar where he poured another few ounces of vodka into his tumbler.
Angel, he thought. I’ve seen him at Bar-None.
How many times have I hit on that kid and he just looked the other way?
And now he’s caught Hunt’s eye. I have to help Declan see that he can dream about someone else.
I have to help him understand that Charlie isn’t right for him.
I have to help Declan see that he’s only meant to be with me.
* * * *
Bar-None was busy for a Thursday night.
Good, The Attercop thought. Easier to blend in.
It was an hour before closing time. Mickey, as usual, was at the bar. He was busy chatting up a guy who was dressed in full leathers.
Mickey glanced over toward The Attercop and asked, “So, what’ll it be tonight, my friend?”
“Double vodka on ice. And top rail, not the house stuff.”
“Top shelf it is,” Mickey said, turning and grabbing a bottle of the best vodka he had.
As he was pouring it and ringing it in, The Attercop looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar.
He wore a loose-fitting charcoal blazer and a nondescript dark shirt he’d picked up at a thrift shop earlier in the week.
They went well with the pair of loose-fitting cargo pants.
To top it off, he wore a black fisherman’s cap which was pulled down over his forehead.
He’d added a Van Dyke beard which would help to conceal his features.
The clothes and facial hair made him look ten kilos heavier.
As a final touch, to disguise his normally soft-grey eyes, he’d chosen a pair of brown contact lenses for the occasion. Even he didn’t recognise himself.
“That’ll be seventeen bucks,” Mickey said, sliding the drink across the bar toward him.
The Attercop handed him a twenty. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks. Say, I haven’t seen you in here before. New in the city?”
“Yeah. Just passing through.”
“Well, enjoy yourself,” Mickey said.
“I definitely will.”
A slim, handsome, young Filipino man came through the front door with a cardboard box in his arms, and squeezed behind The Attercop. “’Scuse me, sir.”
He winked at The Attercop then turned to Mickey. “I think we have enough lemons and limes for tonight, so I’ll just put these down in the cellar.”
“Thanks, Angel.”
The Attercop’s eyes followed the young man as he went through a door to the back.
He took a sip of his drink and checked his watch.
See you soon…Angel.