EasyRory
JUB Addict
Session Forty-Three
“The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up;
They looked upon the Creature with a loathing undisguised;
It wasn't Disinfected and it wasn't Sterilized ...”
“Larry, what the f... Oh, hi, Erica. Is Uncle Larry reading you a poem?” Erica ran to greet Eric and Z. Eric picked her up for a hug and got a big kiss besides.
“Uncle Larry is reading me LOTS of poems!”
“Spike asked and I agreed to watch Erica for a few hours,” Larry explained. “You won't miss me at Istanbulla's, will you?”
“ 'Course we will,” Z said. “But you'll probably have more fun with Erica. We're just here to grab some stuff and Eric wants to shave.”
Z and Eric were ready in almost no time and waved goodbye to the couple on the sofa. As they left they listened a little.
“...There's not a Micrococcus in the garden where they play;
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day;
And each imbibes his rations from a Hygienic Cup –
The Bunny and the Baby and the Prophylactic Pup.”
“Again, Uncle Larry. Read it again,” squealed a worshipful Erica.
Larry heard his friends leave and then reread the poem. Before Erica could ask for it again, he quickly interjected, “Look, here's a good one.” And he began,
“A Flea who felt phlebotomous
Assailed a Hippopotamus;
The Hippo, he
Sat on the Flea,
And, goodness gracious! what a muss!”
Istanbulla's was busy with show preparations but not customers. A few men sipped beers and watched the activity. Cashiers from Zara set up credit card machines and electronic sale remotes for the customers to use. Men Andrew had hired put the final touches on a wooden runway that semi-circled through the room using the bar top to complete its D-form. The wooden course rose and dipped over its length, high enough to allow patrons access to seats in the center and to drink at the bar and low enough to allow a decent view of both the clothing and, more importantly, the models. Spotlights were fixed and the models would walk in and out of shadows as they made a trip around the crowd. Morrie and his aide Nicky arrived with the local store executives and took a table at the side of the room as the room gradually filled with what they hoped would be clothing buyers.
At last Istanbulla, looking spectacularly like Debbie Harry in her prime, took a turn around the runway and lip-synched Heart of Glass. At the line “In between, what I find is pleasing ...” she vamped as Z and Darren closed in on her. It was astonishingly effective and the crowd responded. She welcomed her patrons and turned the night over to Andrew's emcee, who warmed up the crowd with some lightly lewd humor and urging to have another drink.
Instead of delivering clothes on the premises as Nordstrom had done, Zara promised next day in-store delivery. The incentive to buy was that the models would remove the item after a sufficient quantity was purchased; the crowd would buy a strip-tease one garment at a time. Because of runway limitations the models could only appear one at a time; as a result the 'twin' effect of Darren and Z was less pronounced with one on the bar and the other circling the runway.
It didn't matter. The show was a success. Andrew suggested it, and Z refused; but Darren stepped into a shadow, removed his boxers, and threw them to the crowd. Then, with a flash of total nudity, he stepped through the light of a baby spot into the dressing room. The second time he completed the circuit, eighty-seven pairs of boxers were sold. The other four models joined in, but Z remained the holdout.
During a break, Darren went to Morrie's table to see how the Zara team liked the results. While he stood listening to the raves, two gentlemen came up and made him sizable cash offers for the rest of the night. Darren just looked at Morrie and smiled. Morrie scribbled a note and handed it to Darren.
Back in the dressing room, Darren told Andrew that the Zara were confirmed fifty thousand in sales before the break. First Andrew hugged Darren, then Z, and then a third model who was the only other handy warm body around. When the show resumed he found Seth in the dressing room trying to keep the changes of clothes going smoothly.
“We're running out of boxers,” Seth joked.
“You're a merchandising genius, Seth,” Andrew complimented. Seth flashed him a grin and kept working. At last the show ended. Andrew grabbed Seth and kissed him. “I knew I loved you the first time I met you – the day you brought those contracts from Z.” If the dressing room lights had been brighter Andrew would have seen Seth blushing as he folded the used clothes, as it was he could only see the smile. “Where's Tom anyway?”
“He's talking to some guy from Berkeley – about that murder I think,” Seth nodded in the direction of the crowd.
Andrew followed the direction of Seth's look and saw Tom in a heated discussion with Christopher. Every time Tom spoke Christopher backed up. Soon he was out of room with his back to the wall and Tom still in his face. At that point Christopher and another young man left the bar. Tom went to the bar, ordered a beer, and drank half the bottle in one swig.
“Remind me never to piss you off.” Andrew put his arm around Tom's waist.
“Fucking creep. Practically slobbering.” Tom took another swig, smaller this time. “The assholes at that Museum spent half their time trying to … to make it with Darren.”
“They're not the only ones.” Andrew pointed at the door and they watched Darren and Morrie leave with Nicky carrying folders and books, trying to keep up. The predatory look in Morrie's eyes was unmistakable.
“I guess you're right,” Tom said disgustedly and then visibly shifted gears. “How did the night go? I think my boyfriends cleaned up, huh?”
“I'll let you know after I verify the numbers with the cashiers.”
Tom walked into what was left of the dressing room where the last of the clothing was boxed ready to go. Seth's puzzled look was from the note in his hand. Seeing Tom, he said, “Darren left this. I wonder if he wants it.” Tom looked at it. It was Morrie's business card. “Same $ times 3,” was hand written on the back.
Darren glanced at the door. 2715. Same room. Same bathrobe. Same Morrie. At least I'll be able to take a taxi home if it's late, he thought. This time the fuck was almost perfunctory. Morrie came quickly and wanted to sleep. “Darren. One thing. I told Nicky that spending time with you would be almost like time with me. Would you mind?”
“Would I mind fucking Nicky? What does Nicky think about this deal?” Darren was amused by the casualness of the arrangement, assuming there was one.
“I don't think he believed me. Just go talk to him. Maybe he'll … – make him happy. Ok? I gotta get some sleep. Did I tell you? You looked spectacular tonight. A third of the sales came when you were on the runway.” Morrie punched the pillow and settled into the bed.
Dismissed, Darren knocked lightly on the door to the adjoining room. Nicky quietly opened the door and looked disappointed to see Darren. He motioned him in and closed the door. “He wants to sleep. Sent me here,” Darren explained.
“Sure. I'm using this bed. You can have that one,” Nicky said, pointing to the bed closer to the door.
“Nicky, I'm not sure what's going on. And I'm not trying to cut you out of anything,” Darren began.
“Morrie's got the hots for you. It'll be intense; but it won't last. I'm just waiting for him to fire me so you can take over.”
“Wait. I'm not taking over anything. He likes you; he told me so. You're assistant to the president, anyway. Wouldn't the president have to fire you?” Darren asked.
“There is no president,” Nicky sighed. “Morrie's the boss. He thought it the title sounded good. His little joke. He'll fire me.”
“No, he won't. He really likes you. He told me to come in here and 'make you happy'.”
“And you're willing to do that?” Nicky asked clinically.
“I don't know about happy, but if you want sex that's no big deal. He's paying me a lot and your dick isn't killer.”
Nicky turned suddenly, “How do you know?”
“Morrie said so. That's ok, it's no big thing. Wait! Not your cock! Er, I mean ... it's insignificant … unimportant ... Shit, that's worse.” Darren was visibly flustered.
Nicky laughed. “Forget it. That was pretty funny, really.”
“Nicky, ... It's not late. Want to get dressed and get a beer?” Darren asked.
“Not a bad idea,” Nicky said and reached for a jacket.
“Um … I'm in this robe and my clothes are in Morrie's room.”
“Here's the advantage of working for Zara.” Nicky opened a closet door and offered Darren a wide choice of clothes. Darren dropped his robe. Nicky admired the view. “Wow. No wonder he's hot for you.”
They went to the hotel's bar and ordered beers. While they sipped they discussed the mechanics and the future locations of the sales shows. “We can probably get away with a show as gay as this one only in New York. If we do it in smaller towns, Zara might get a rep as a gay brand and the company doesn't want that,” Nicky said. “Gay-friendly is ok, but not gay.”
“We did a couple of very straight shows for Nordstrom,” Darren offered.
“Yes, but they didn't move as much merchandise. It's a great concept, but it's risky. Like disco – straight guys actually liked disco until it got to be identified as gay. That killed disco in the US; it was like the lights went out, although European guys didn't - and still don't - give a shit. That Euro-techno stuff is a first cousin of disco.”
“What about a show that included female models? Sell women's clothes, too?”
“Risky. Untested. And female models cost a ton more than male models,” Nicky said, shaking his head.
“European shows?” Darren asked.
“Maybe. But we'd have to make our Spanish bosses think it was their idea. They get very annoyed if the US branch tries to run the rest of the company.”
At that point a man came up and asked Darren if he had been in the show at Istanbulla's. “You were great. Can I buy you a beer?”
“Thanks, but I've got one. You want to join us? We'd like to hear your reaction about the show.”
“Reaction? My wife is gonna ask why I went to San Francisco and bought a ton of underwear. I was just wondering if I could pay you something to take these clothes off?” He pointed to the clothes Darren had borrowed from Nicky. Darren pretended he thought the guy was joking. When the offer was repeated, Darren still played dumb. “Let me put it in words of one syllable,” the guy persisted, elaborately treating Darren like an idiot. “I will pay to fuck you.” He held up a couple of hundred dollar bills.
“He's booked for the night. What about me?” Nicky intervened. Before Darren knew what was happening, Nicky gave him the key card for his room and left with the guy.
Darren finished his beer and returned to Nicky's room. He looked in on Morrie who was snoring peacefully and then lay down in the bed Nicky had offered. Nicky arrived back in less than an hour. All he said was, “If Morrie's gonna fire me, I need to get back in practice.”
“Nicky … ” Darren began.
“I talked him into three hundred and he tipped me fifty. He came fast. That's the perfect john.” Nicky sounded a little out of it.
“He's NOT going to fire you.”
“I should take a shower I guess,” Nicky said, more to himself than to Darren. He got up again and went into the bathroom. Darren heard the water run and then the crash.
Nicky lay in the bathtub, half passed out. Darren turned off the water and tried to help Nicky up. “We took some kind of pill. Nothing too special.” Nicky said with a silly grin on his face.
It was a hell of a time getting Nicky dry and back to bed. Darren was panting at the end of the effort. Nicky called his name, “Darren?”
“What?”
“Come closer ... closer,” Nicky requested. “You're not so bad after all.” He patted Darren's cheek and passed out.
Tim got to Rory's after a long frustrating day. “Man! What a lousy day!” He looked in alarm at what Rory was doing in the kitchen. “What is that?”
“Well, it's going to be dinner, specifically, pulled pork,” Rory said optimistically.
Tim hugged his lover, “Pulled pork!” He gently squeezed Rory's cock. “Let's pull this pork.”
“I love it when you have a lousy day,” Rory said, kissing Tim. “It means I get to kiss you a lot; and that generally leads to pretty great sex.”
“But that's what you do on good days, too,” Tim said
“But on the lousy days, I know you're doing it because you love me.”
“I love you on the good days, too.” Tim's kisses were becoming more passionate.
“Yes, but you seem to need me more on the lousy days. I like being needed. Is this conversation getting icky?”
“The pulled pork is icky. You are the reason there are any good days.” Part of Tim was laughing, part was hugging, and part was trying to poke a hole in his pants. They made their way into the den and onto the day bed leaving a trail of clothes behind.
A half hour of sweet sex and ten minutes of getting cleaned up later, Tim asked, “Now ... what were you doing in the kitchen?”
“I was pulling the pork.”
“After! After you cook it.” While Tim showed Rory how it was done, he told him why his day had been so lousy. “All your friends … our friends are murder suspects again. It's like an old movie. We're rounding up the usual suspects.” Tim explained how the web of suspects included people at the Museum as well as Tom, Darren, Andrew.
“Don't leave me out,” Rory said. “I threatened Mancini and McDermott with implied bodily harm if they harassed Darren. There were witnesses.”
Tim's mouth hung open. “Where were you the night of the murder?”
“Don't you remember? Playing cards with your parents and in bed with you.”
“If I record you as a suspect in a murder, and I'm living with you, I don't think I can continue the investigation.”
“Is that bad?”
“I'll have to tell the Department about us. A lot of what looks like tolerance depends an ability to ignore the obvious. If the Department is forced to recognize what we're doing, they'll probably fire me.”
“The Fire Department kept Larry,” Rory countered.
“The Fire Department owed Larry a lot more than a job after what that Commissioner did to him. This is different. Our relationship could corrupt an official investigation. How tough am I supposed to be with you? With the man I love?”
“The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gamboled up;
They looked upon the Creature with a loathing undisguised;
It wasn't Disinfected and it wasn't Sterilized ...”
“Larry, what the f... Oh, hi, Erica. Is Uncle Larry reading you a poem?” Erica ran to greet Eric and Z. Eric picked her up for a hug and got a big kiss besides.
“Uncle Larry is reading me LOTS of poems!”
“Spike asked and I agreed to watch Erica for a few hours,” Larry explained. “You won't miss me at Istanbulla's, will you?”
“ 'Course we will,” Z said. “But you'll probably have more fun with Erica. We're just here to grab some stuff and Eric wants to shave.”
Z and Eric were ready in almost no time and waved goodbye to the couple on the sofa. As they left they listened a little.
“...There's not a Micrococcus in the garden where they play;
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day;
And each imbibes his rations from a Hygienic Cup –
The Bunny and the Baby and the Prophylactic Pup.”
“Again, Uncle Larry. Read it again,” squealed a worshipful Erica.
Larry heard his friends leave and then reread the poem. Before Erica could ask for it again, he quickly interjected, “Look, here's a good one.” And he began,
“A Flea who felt phlebotomous
Assailed a Hippopotamus;
The Hippo, he
Sat on the Flea,
And, goodness gracious! what a muss!”
Istanbulla's was busy with show preparations but not customers. A few men sipped beers and watched the activity. Cashiers from Zara set up credit card machines and electronic sale remotes for the customers to use. Men Andrew had hired put the final touches on a wooden runway that semi-circled through the room using the bar top to complete its D-form. The wooden course rose and dipped over its length, high enough to allow patrons access to seats in the center and to drink at the bar and low enough to allow a decent view of both the clothing and, more importantly, the models. Spotlights were fixed and the models would walk in and out of shadows as they made a trip around the crowd. Morrie and his aide Nicky arrived with the local store executives and took a table at the side of the room as the room gradually filled with what they hoped would be clothing buyers.
At last Istanbulla, looking spectacularly like Debbie Harry in her prime, took a turn around the runway and lip-synched Heart of Glass. At the line “In between, what I find is pleasing ...” she vamped as Z and Darren closed in on her. It was astonishingly effective and the crowd responded. She welcomed her patrons and turned the night over to Andrew's emcee, who warmed up the crowd with some lightly lewd humor and urging to have another drink.
Instead of delivering clothes on the premises as Nordstrom had done, Zara promised next day in-store delivery. The incentive to buy was that the models would remove the item after a sufficient quantity was purchased; the crowd would buy a strip-tease one garment at a time. Because of runway limitations the models could only appear one at a time; as a result the 'twin' effect of Darren and Z was less pronounced with one on the bar and the other circling the runway.
It didn't matter. The show was a success. Andrew suggested it, and Z refused; but Darren stepped into a shadow, removed his boxers, and threw them to the crowd. Then, with a flash of total nudity, he stepped through the light of a baby spot into the dressing room. The second time he completed the circuit, eighty-seven pairs of boxers were sold. The other four models joined in, but Z remained the holdout.
During a break, Darren went to Morrie's table to see how the Zara team liked the results. While he stood listening to the raves, two gentlemen came up and made him sizable cash offers for the rest of the night. Darren just looked at Morrie and smiled. Morrie scribbled a note and handed it to Darren.
Back in the dressing room, Darren told Andrew that the Zara were confirmed fifty thousand in sales before the break. First Andrew hugged Darren, then Z, and then a third model who was the only other handy warm body around. When the show resumed he found Seth in the dressing room trying to keep the changes of clothes going smoothly.
“We're running out of boxers,” Seth joked.
“You're a merchandising genius, Seth,” Andrew complimented. Seth flashed him a grin and kept working. At last the show ended. Andrew grabbed Seth and kissed him. “I knew I loved you the first time I met you – the day you brought those contracts from Z.” If the dressing room lights had been brighter Andrew would have seen Seth blushing as he folded the used clothes, as it was he could only see the smile. “Where's Tom anyway?”
“He's talking to some guy from Berkeley – about that murder I think,” Seth nodded in the direction of the crowd.
Andrew followed the direction of Seth's look and saw Tom in a heated discussion with Christopher. Every time Tom spoke Christopher backed up. Soon he was out of room with his back to the wall and Tom still in his face. At that point Christopher and another young man left the bar. Tom went to the bar, ordered a beer, and drank half the bottle in one swig.
“Remind me never to piss you off.” Andrew put his arm around Tom's waist.
“Fucking creep. Practically slobbering.” Tom took another swig, smaller this time. “The assholes at that Museum spent half their time trying to … to make it with Darren.”
“They're not the only ones.” Andrew pointed at the door and they watched Darren and Morrie leave with Nicky carrying folders and books, trying to keep up. The predatory look in Morrie's eyes was unmistakable.
“I guess you're right,” Tom said disgustedly and then visibly shifted gears. “How did the night go? I think my boyfriends cleaned up, huh?”
“I'll let you know after I verify the numbers with the cashiers.”
Tom walked into what was left of the dressing room where the last of the clothing was boxed ready to go. Seth's puzzled look was from the note in his hand. Seeing Tom, he said, “Darren left this. I wonder if he wants it.” Tom looked at it. It was Morrie's business card. “Same $ times 3,” was hand written on the back.
Darren glanced at the door. 2715. Same room. Same bathrobe. Same Morrie. At least I'll be able to take a taxi home if it's late, he thought. This time the fuck was almost perfunctory. Morrie came quickly and wanted to sleep. “Darren. One thing. I told Nicky that spending time with you would be almost like time with me. Would you mind?”
“Would I mind fucking Nicky? What does Nicky think about this deal?” Darren was amused by the casualness of the arrangement, assuming there was one.
“I don't think he believed me. Just go talk to him. Maybe he'll … – make him happy. Ok? I gotta get some sleep. Did I tell you? You looked spectacular tonight. A third of the sales came when you were on the runway.” Morrie punched the pillow and settled into the bed.
Dismissed, Darren knocked lightly on the door to the adjoining room. Nicky quietly opened the door and looked disappointed to see Darren. He motioned him in and closed the door. “He wants to sleep. Sent me here,” Darren explained.
“Sure. I'm using this bed. You can have that one,” Nicky said, pointing to the bed closer to the door.
“Nicky, I'm not sure what's going on. And I'm not trying to cut you out of anything,” Darren began.
“Morrie's got the hots for you. It'll be intense; but it won't last. I'm just waiting for him to fire me so you can take over.”
“Wait. I'm not taking over anything. He likes you; he told me so. You're assistant to the president, anyway. Wouldn't the president have to fire you?” Darren asked.
“There is no president,” Nicky sighed. “Morrie's the boss. He thought it the title sounded good. His little joke. He'll fire me.”
“No, he won't. He really likes you. He told me to come in here and 'make you happy'.”
“And you're willing to do that?” Nicky asked clinically.
“I don't know about happy, but if you want sex that's no big deal. He's paying me a lot and your dick isn't killer.”
Nicky turned suddenly, “How do you know?”
“Morrie said so. That's ok, it's no big thing. Wait! Not your cock! Er, I mean ... it's insignificant … unimportant ... Shit, that's worse.” Darren was visibly flustered.
Nicky laughed. “Forget it. That was pretty funny, really.”
“Nicky, ... It's not late. Want to get dressed and get a beer?” Darren asked.
“Not a bad idea,” Nicky said and reached for a jacket.
“Um … I'm in this robe and my clothes are in Morrie's room.”
“Here's the advantage of working for Zara.” Nicky opened a closet door and offered Darren a wide choice of clothes. Darren dropped his robe. Nicky admired the view. “Wow. No wonder he's hot for you.”
They went to the hotel's bar and ordered beers. While they sipped they discussed the mechanics and the future locations of the sales shows. “We can probably get away with a show as gay as this one only in New York. If we do it in smaller towns, Zara might get a rep as a gay brand and the company doesn't want that,” Nicky said. “Gay-friendly is ok, but not gay.”
“We did a couple of very straight shows for Nordstrom,” Darren offered.
“Yes, but they didn't move as much merchandise. It's a great concept, but it's risky. Like disco – straight guys actually liked disco until it got to be identified as gay. That killed disco in the US; it was like the lights went out, although European guys didn't - and still don't - give a shit. That Euro-techno stuff is a first cousin of disco.”
“What about a show that included female models? Sell women's clothes, too?”
“Risky. Untested. And female models cost a ton more than male models,” Nicky said, shaking his head.
“European shows?” Darren asked.
“Maybe. But we'd have to make our Spanish bosses think it was their idea. They get very annoyed if the US branch tries to run the rest of the company.”
At that point a man came up and asked Darren if he had been in the show at Istanbulla's. “You were great. Can I buy you a beer?”
“Thanks, but I've got one. You want to join us? We'd like to hear your reaction about the show.”
“Reaction? My wife is gonna ask why I went to San Francisco and bought a ton of underwear. I was just wondering if I could pay you something to take these clothes off?” He pointed to the clothes Darren had borrowed from Nicky. Darren pretended he thought the guy was joking. When the offer was repeated, Darren still played dumb. “Let me put it in words of one syllable,” the guy persisted, elaborately treating Darren like an idiot. “I will pay to fuck you.” He held up a couple of hundred dollar bills.
“He's booked for the night. What about me?” Nicky intervened. Before Darren knew what was happening, Nicky gave him the key card for his room and left with the guy.
Darren finished his beer and returned to Nicky's room. He looked in on Morrie who was snoring peacefully and then lay down in the bed Nicky had offered. Nicky arrived back in less than an hour. All he said was, “If Morrie's gonna fire me, I need to get back in practice.”
“Nicky … ” Darren began.
“I talked him into three hundred and he tipped me fifty. He came fast. That's the perfect john.” Nicky sounded a little out of it.
“He's NOT going to fire you.”
“I should take a shower I guess,” Nicky said, more to himself than to Darren. He got up again and went into the bathroom. Darren heard the water run and then the crash.
Nicky lay in the bathtub, half passed out. Darren turned off the water and tried to help Nicky up. “We took some kind of pill. Nothing too special.” Nicky said with a silly grin on his face.
It was a hell of a time getting Nicky dry and back to bed. Darren was panting at the end of the effort. Nicky called his name, “Darren?”
“What?”
“Come closer ... closer,” Nicky requested. “You're not so bad after all.” He patted Darren's cheek and passed out.
Tim got to Rory's after a long frustrating day. “Man! What a lousy day!” He looked in alarm at what Rory was doing in the kitchen. “What is that?”
“Well, it's going to be dinner, specifically, pulled pork,” Rory said optimistically.
Tim hugged his lover, “Pulled pork!” He gently squeezed Rory's cock. “Let's pull this pork.”
“I love it when you have a lousy day,” Rory said, kissing Tim. “It means I get to kiss you a lot; and that generally leads to pretty great sex.”
“But that's what you do on good days, too,” Tim said
“But on the lousy days, I know you're doing it because you love me.”
“I love you on the good days, too.” Tim's kisses were becoming more passionate.
“Yes, but you seem to need me more on the lousy days. I like being needed. Is this conversation getting icky?”
“The pulled pork is icky. You are the reason there are any good days.” Part of Tim was laughing, part was hugging, and part was trying to poke a hole in his pants. They made their way into the den and onto the day bed leaving a trail of clothes behind.
A half hour of sweet sex and ten minutes of getting cleaned up later, Tim asked, “Now ... what were you doing in the kitchen?”
“I was pulling the pork.”
“After! After you cook it.” While Tim showed Rory how it was done, he told him why his day had been so lousy. “All your friends … our friends are murder suspects again. It's like an old movie. We're rounding up the usual suspects.” Tim explained how the web of suspects included people at the Museum as well as Tom, Darren, Andrew.
“Don't leave me out,” Rory said. “I threatened Mancini and McDermott with implied bodily harm if they harassed Darren. There were witnesses.”
Tim's mouth hung open. “Where were you the night of the murder?”
“Don't you remember? Playing cards with your parents and in bed with you.”
“If I record you as a suspect in a murder, and I'm living with you, I don't think I can continue the investigation.”
“Is that bad?”
“I'll have to tell the Department about us. A lot of what looks like tolerance depends an ability to ignore the obvious. If the Department is forced to recognize what we're doing, they'll probably fire me.”
“The Fire Department kept Larry,” Rory countered.
“The Fire Department owed Larry a lot more than a job after what that Commissioner did to him. This is different. Our relationship could corrupt an official investigation. How tough am I supposed to be with you? With the man I love?”
