I went to the department store, bought a pair of clippers andcropped my hair as close to the scalp as I could, short ofactually shaving it off completely. It worked for Telly Savalas, Michael Jordan, and Seal.
Now it's my turn.
Money was tight but I needed more help. Jenn and I could barely keep up with our customers so I decided to hire three more people.I didn't know how long I'd be able to pay them, but I had to havefaith. Somehow it would all work out.
So I hired the most adorable set of twins this afternoon. They'reseventeen, pierced ears and noses, colored hair, ripped jeans andshirts.
Kevin and Brian told me that they did some modeling for a coupleof the big designers and made some decent money at it until theirolder brother played them some punk rock music.
"It was like I suddenly grew new-- like-- eyes, Mr. Ciccarelli," saidKevin (who I know is Kevin because his hair is purple and Brian'sis more of a henna). "The whole thing just seemed like bullshit."
"Yeah, bullshit," echoed Brian. "Too much focus on the waypeople look. It's so dumb."
The third person I hired was a young lady named Heather. She had awonderful sense of humor, matching me joke for joke, witty barbfor witty barb.
Best of all-- she's a dyke.
As I was closing up the shop, Kurt stopped by and we talked aboutMike a little. He was concerned about him, but wouldn't go intoany details why.
"Hugo, you know I care for you very deeply." he said, stacking chairs onthe table tops.
"Me, too," I sloshed the mop in and around the tile floor at thebase of the table. "You know that."
"No, I don't. You say it to me, but you don't show me that youcare."
I tried to joke. "All those sandwiches and free Specials don'tmean a thing to you? What do you need? A sweatshirt? A coffeemug?"
He stood there, chair in hand, not appreciating the humor. "I wantyou."
I mopped the floor a little faster, swathing a dirty corner withsoapy water.
"I want to get you naked." he continued.
I blushed. "Stop it."
He put the chair back down and walked over to me, trapping me inthe corner. He put his hands around my waist.
One of his hands slipped up and rode over the left side of mychest. I felt the nipple get tight and hard under the material."Don't, that's an erogenous zone."
"I know," he whispered in my ear. "I want to give you the ride ofyour life."
"Give me the ride of my life?" I asked. "How do you know itwouldn't be the other way around?"
"Whatever you want." His right hand slipped downto the inseam of my jeans. "I'm flexible."
I faced him and looked into his eyes, my disastrous dating lifeflashing before me.
I moved my lips to his and kissed him, opening my mouth andletting my tongue tell him how I felt.
