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History: This is the first queer story I ever wrote, publicly coming out to my college creative writing class, circa 1990.

“3 A.M.” by Sean Meriwether

The cold beer felt good against his sweaty palm. Eduardo sat in the Spike waiting for tonight’s trick. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to sit there much longer. He just wanted a quickie to get some desperately needed cash and then cut out for home. He already discovered how tough it was trying to make it on his own. Especially with a kid depending on him and his going to college and all. He was really strapped. These were killer times.

He put himself into the “biz” when he came to New York. He was young, well built and well endowed. The guys liked that. It freed up his days for school and gave him time to spend with his daughter, Maria. And fuck, the pay was great. The leather scene paid significantly better than straight sex, hetero or otherwise. The further you strayed from the norm, the more it profited the pro. Sometimes he’d get two or three hundred bucks for one session, depending on how far the guy wanted to go. Light bondage and sucking off was a flat fee. Anything else was extra; the extras were where the real payoff was.

“Con yo, man!” he mumbled to himself. He had rent to pay, and here he was sitting for over four hours without even being cruised. He must have gone through seven mugs of draft since he sat down on the stool. He had to piss, but really didn’t want to move just yet. “Don’t want to miss nothin’, either,” he thought sarcastically. The place was dead. There might have been fifteen guys in the whole bar, including himself, and Eddie always did.

“Shit,” he mumbled again. He polished off half of the eighth mug and set it back on the wet ringed napkin with the bar’s logo on it. He looked up to the video screen above where he was stationed. More sex. He’d already lived it. Seen too much. Hey, sometimes it wasn’t bad, he’d say, but it’s not what he wanted to do with the rest of his goddamned life!

What he really wanted to do was settle down with just one guy, not that there was a real possibility for trade to settle down in the gay world, but he had to have a dream. He imagined having a steady job in an office with his own desk and his own paperclips and all that shit. Hating it, but loving the routine. Normalcy. Then punching out at five and taking the 6 train home to his lover, who would already be home making dinner. And beautiful Maria in a real life, home from school. Happy. Doing homework or some shit like that at the desk he bought for her room. Or maybe watching TV with her friends. Then she wouldn’t have to be ashamed of her old man’s occupation.

By God’s grace he would have it.

“What time is it?” he thought to ask himself. “Past three already!” He finished his beer with the idea of splitting, but before he could set the empty mug down on the saturated napkin, another full one was placed in front of him.

“This one’s on the house.”

He looked up to see the mustached face of the bartender, Kevin. He’d fucked around with him before. That was when he’d first started out, two years ago. It was a lousy lay, but Kevin got his cheap thrill. Word spread fast after that. He got a rep. That was where it all started.

“Thanks, man.”

“Slow night for a Friday, ain’t it? Where is everybody?”

“Probably vacationing out at fucking Fire Island. That’s where they all flock when it gets hot.”

“Yeah. God, I hate that fucking place.”

That’s what they all said; the ones that couldn’t afford to get out of the city when Mother Nature turned up the gas.

“Listen Eddie, if you need a place to crash tonight – y’know, mi casa es su casa.”

He hated it when people spoke Spanish badly. It insulted his pride. But tonight he was too drunk or tired to bother with knocking Kevin about it. It just wasn’t in him.

“No, man. I’ll be all right. I’ll just set myself up somewhere. It’s OK.”

His real life, outside the bar, was his. It had to be separate. His customers didn’t want to know more than they had to, hell, sometime they didn’t even want to know his real name. They just wanted a cock that was attached to something quick, stupid and agreeable. A prick to carry out their fantasy for the night. For a price, of course. Shit, if they knew he was doing this to support his kid, and put himself through Hunter College, business might get even worse.

Besides, the day was his. He owned it.

He felt a coarse hand against his soft beard. He jerked away figuring it was some john.

“Hey, man. You sure you’re all right? I get off at four, we could go home and…I’m not looking for a freebie, y’know?” Kevin laughed candidly.

“Sorry, Kevin. I’m just not with it. I think I’ll just cut out of here. It’s been a long night.”

Actually, long was too short to describe it – this night was eclipsing. He wasn’t in the mood to work out a price with some guy, then go through the well-rehearsed motions he performed so well. To submit to the hand of some random.

“Maybe some other time.”

“Finish you beer, Eddie. Think it over. I’ve got a couch were you could…”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, I guess you would. That was some night, Eddie.” He paused. “I just moved, y’know. I’m over on Fifteenth Street now. Great apartment. Nice view of the Empire State. You should see it.”

“I already have.”

“No, the apartment.”

“Sometime, Kevin. Not tonight. I think I drank too much. I better go sleep it off. I’ve got shit to do.”

Eddie desperately wanted to go home and check on his little Maria. Relieve his cousin from babysitting duties. He just wanted to go to bed.

“Finish your beer,” Kevin said to him before he went down to another customer at the bar. Probably try to pick him up. Kevin was an all right guy, but damn, he was always giving it away. It made it tougher on the guys who were trying to make a living.

He looked down at the beer. It had a really thick head on it. It was cold and it felt good against his sweaty palm. He really had to piss now. Soon he’d get up and do it.

 

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