Really? Is this a sideline of yours?
We’re trying to turn it into a real business, actually. Father’s been very supportive.
Is that a fact? How would you make a profit with this business, if you don’t mind my asking?
His smile grew broader.
People love to talk about themselves. Raul was no exception.
We have some skills. Some people are willing to pay handsomely for them. Up to now we’ve been giving out free advice. To people we like. Our friends. But we decided it was time to make a profit from it.
Great. I’m a big fan of free enterprise. What kind of advice?
Club advice. How to run a club. How to make a place popular with the right people.
Oh, I get it. Yes. That could be quite lucrative, I imagine.
We’re hoping so.
That’s really interesting, I ruminated. Can you give me an example of the advice you plan to sell?
Well, said Raul with a wry smile, the whole idea is to charge for the advice. If I start giving it out free, it defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?
Sure, sure. I understand. But I’m not in the club business. I don’t even know anybody in the club business. And anyway I promise it won’t leave this room. I’m just curious, that’s all.
Okay. But you’ve got to solemnly promise.
Sure. I’m a way solemn guy.
He grimaced slightly. But gave in anyway.
I’m sure you’ve noticed, he said, that most bars, particularly highend bars, try to hire pretty women as waitresses?
Not a detail that’s escaped my notice.
The idea being that men will want to come to the bar, stay in the bar, to ogle the pretty women.
He said it ‘oogle.’ I hate that. The damn word is ‘ogle.’
Sure, I said, makes sense.
Yes it does. But something else makes more sense.
Okay. Enlighten me.
You hire pretty men.
Ah. Um. I’m not sure I get the point.
The point is this: You scour the gyms, the modeling agencies, the actors’ studios. You hire a bunch of slim but muscular young men. You dress them in tight clothes. What happens?
You just opened a gay bar?
No, what happens is that the women come to ogle the men. And once the women start coming, the men follow, to try to pick up the women. Much more satisfying than ogling waitresses. The waitresses are unobtainable, for the most part, and busy anyway. They don’t have time for seduction. But if a man knows that a bar will be full of good-looking young women, women self-selected for their interest in good-looking men, the good-looking men will flock to the place. And that will bring in yet more available women. And the cycle continues.
I paused to think that through. Jesus, the guy had something there.
You’re a fucking genius, I said.
Raul smiled. Didn’t deny it. No false humility in this one.
Well, listen, I said, I’d love to hear more, but I guess I should do my job.
Which is?
I’m trying to gather information.
About Jules?
Jules, Larry Silver, whatever.
Larry who?
Larry Silver. The dead guy.
The dead guy, he said with a wry smile. Yes. I’ve never heard his name before.
You don’t read the papers?
No, actually.
He turned to the girl in the maid costume. She’d been waiting demurely in the corner of the room.
Diane, he said. Club soda, please.
He was almost deferential to her.
I had to admit he had some charm.
Maybe he could lend some to his brother.
Well, I said. Perhaps you could tell me something about Jules.
I wish I could. But I don’t know much. When we were adopted, he was a bit upset. I guess you can understand that. We didn’t understand at all, of course. We were so young. It was such a different world. To us, the whole thing was a dream. We had no capacity to understand a sad, neglected boy.
I see. That’s understandable. But later?
Later he was gone. He lived in the house for a while. But he was never there. And when he was there, we never saw him. He didn’t want to see us. Or his father. He wanted to be far away.
You never got to know him at all?
Not really. It’s too bad. It’s kind of sad, he said.
If he didn’t mean it, he was a hell of an actor.
I was leaning to the latter theory.
Have you made any effort to reconcile? I asked. To help him?
He sipped his club soda.
Sure, he said. We invite him to family events. We send him presents on his birthday. But whatever we did, to him it always seemed, well, insulting. I always thought that if we pressed things any further it would only make him hate us all the more.
Us?
Ramon, me, Father.
I see.
I waited for more. I waited to see if he’d fill the silence. As so many had before him. But he was good. He was very good. The seconds ticked by. The indulgent smile never left his face.
I looked straight in his eyes. They betrayed nothing.
Another Scotch? he asked at last.
So, you haven’t talked to him lately?
Who? he asked, with a slightly puzzled frown.
Jules.
No.
Has he been in contact with his father?
Not that I know of.
Raul’s smile grew ever so faintly tense at the edges.
The man was thinking.
What about Ramon?
Ramon?
Is Jules in contact with him?
Raul gave out a slightly exasperated sigh.
I can’t speak for Ramon. But I would be awfully surprised.
I see.
I gave the silence another chance to work.
It didn’t.
Another Scotch? he asked again.
While his repertoire was highly polished, it was somewhat limited.
No thanks, I said. I’ve got to get going.
Too bad, he said with a small frown.
The perfect host.
