“You know those eating clubs where they serve endangered species or weird foods? Well, Leo said he needed me because a few of his clients want munchkins, short guys, dwarves. Officially I’m too tall to be classified as a short person, but only by an inch or so. And I’m not a dwarf. Just shorter than average. But they didn’t care about technicalities. To them, I was short enough.”
He started to edge away again. I pulled him back against me and stroked his soft mink-like hair. This was much worse than facing the kids’ chant in the greenhouse.
“I was broke and out on the street in San Francisco.” His voice cracked. He was pleading with me to understand. I gave him a hug and kept stroking his hair and chest. I didn’t understand, but I sympathized. “I worked for him for two years. Christmas was pretty bad, getting fucked by someone in a Santa suit, whose laugh was a ho-ho-ho as he’d come. Nothing I ever did with those fuckers felt good. My life really was hell. I hated myself. After two years of eating light and saving my ‘share’ of what Leo gave me from the deals, I thought I had enough money to escape.”
I caught one of his hands and held it. This was so fucked up. I couldn’t imagine what I would’ve done. The idea of him being pimped out made my skin crawl. How had he stood it?
“I lived with Ricky, the other munchkin, elf, short guy, and an albino named Gordon in an apartment near the Marina District. The clients we serviced…” He winced, as did I. “The clients lived in Seacliff and the Presidio, so we didn’t have to travel far. It was a shitty life, but we got shelter and a food and clothing allowance. I saved as much food money as I could.”
He gave a gurgly laugh.
“I had a custom-made tux, that damned Christmas elf suit, and clothes for all the holidays.” He was crying now, so I pulled him as close as I could and sheltered him next to my chest. “I went to exclusive parties, galas, and charity events. The old guys I was with called me their companion. One even introduced me as Mini-me. Another old bearded guy told everyone I was his special elf during the holiday season.”
I’d started rubbing his back and muttering “Shhh. Shhh. It’s okay now.”
“How can you touch me?” he moaned. “I’m a sexual leper.”
I just kept up my litany of comfort. I was repulsed by the story, but not by him. He’d done what he had to in order to survive.
“How’d you become a chef?”
He sniveled. “Gotta get a tissue,” he murmured.
I pulled off my T-shirt. “Nah. Use this.”
He gave a laugh. “Gross.” But he wiped his nose carefully on the hem of my shirt.
I reached down and took a wad of shirt. I held it to his nose. “Blow.”
“Eww. Gross,” he repeated. But he blew.
I wiped his nose and put my shirt down on the floor next to us.
“You wanna tell me the rest? Or forget it?” I hugged him again. “Whatever’s good for you.”
He took a breath as if he were girding himself to finish a race.
“I, uh, got on a bus one day and got off in the Italian district. Not too far away from where I was living, actually. I just wanted some time to think. I started walking, trying to figure out how to make the cut from Leo. I’d stashed away part of my money in a bank account Leo didn’t know about and didn’t monitor. I figured I could live for a couple of months without a job. I just didn’t know what I could do, what kind of job to look for.
“I didn’t have a high school diploma, no skills I could call on.” He pulled back and looked me in the eye. He was making moves to slip away, but I wouldn’t let him go. He glanced toward the tree and the windows. “You don’t have to hold me. I’m okay now.”
“I’m not,” I answered with a squeeze. “Who said you’re the only one who needs to be held?”
He gave me a strange, almost quizzical glance like it was a new concept that anyone could need him to hold them. Then he lowered his eyes, and tears bubbled between his lids.
“You don’t have to be nice to me. I know what I’ve been.”
“Yes, I have to be nice to you. And let’s emphasize the ‘been.’” His gaze flew to mine as tears fell down his cheeks. “I like you. I think we’re friends. I’m hoping maybe we might even be more. I can’t not be nice to you.”
He groped around next to me, picked up my T-shirt, blew his nose, and mopped up again. I started laughing that my limited wardrobe was doing dual duty. He glanced at me a couple of times as he carefully replaced the shirt on the floor.
We hugged. He sighed. Then I watched the Christmas tree lights a little while as he seemed to settle next to me. He started tracing my tattoo from my belly button up my side as he spoke.
“I was walking past this tiny café where a guy with a food-stained apron was sweeping the sidewalk. I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do when I was really free. What could I do other than fuck or be some rich man’s toy? This guy, he yelled at me as I walked past and asked if I needed a job.” John gave a watery, huffy kind of laugh. “I must have looked as desperate as I felt. Anyway, he said he needed an entry-level sous-chef and general worker. And I needed a job. Only took me a day or two to get the hang of food prep before I knew I loved it. I wanted to be a chef.
“He gave me a room over the restaurant that
