Pov Joe:
Getting back home took longer than expected, Beck. I have to say, your taste in men is pretty bad. I need to find out who that guy was, although I have a feeling he wasn't the only unpleasant surprise of the day... and that I probably missed something else when I left.
Before entering my apartment, I saw Paco sitting there, reading one of the books I lent him. I was going to leave him alone, Beck, I really feel sorry for the guy. I swear that when we have children, they will never suffer.
Before I could put the key in the lock, Paco spoke to me.
"Hey, Joe."
"Paco, how's the reading going? Don't tell me you've already finished it."
"Almost, it's pretty good."
Paco is a really good kid, Beck. He developed a special fondness for books thanks to me. I promise you that our children will love books as much as I do... as much as you do.
"Sometimes the dialogues are weird... I was thinking, Joe, maybe we could go find another book. I don't see you very often," he said, closing the book and looking at me.
"Oh... uh, it's a little late, Paco. I don't think your mother would approve..."
"Oh yes, keep going! I want you to finish inside me!" Claudia has no respect for her own son.
What kind of mother has sex knowing that her son can hear her perfectly well? Beck, even though I want to do it with you with all my heart, I would never do it knowing that our children could hear us. I'm not horrible enough to traumatize a child like that.
And really... there's something in the air today. Everyone's getting some action. You with that blond guy, Claudia with her alcoholic partner.
"Yeah, why not? Let's go." I left the building with Paco and we headed to the bookstore.
Ayanokoji hasn't given me a single sales report today. I'll have to have a serious talk with him tomorrow. I have to find a reason to fire him. Understand, Beck: I'm doing this for you. I don't want your eyes to see him in any way. To me, he's a strange man.
Why does he never change his expression?
I must protect you even from my employee. It's my duty.
"Joe, did you know that Dumas was a black man?"
Obviously I knew, but I'm not going to kill his enthusiasm.
"I Googled him. His grandmother was a slave and his father was a great general. He supposedly killed half a battalion... Although you probably already knew that, after all, you work in a bookstore," he looked at me expectantly.
After crossing the entire bookstore to the door leading to the basement, I set my coffee down on the nearest table.
"I didn't know that," I said, putting on my most surprised face.
"I'll be a great father, Beck. I promise you that."
"How did you start working here anyway?" He took a sip of his milkshake.
"Well, Mr. Mooney gave me the job when I was your age. Maybe a little younger." "I can't find my keys... I don't remember giving them to Ayanokoji."
Shit.
I left them with you when I met you, Beck.
"Was the man cool?"
"He was a piece of shit. But he loved books and taught me to love them too... in his own way."
"I've never seen him around here."
"He's too old to still be selling."
(The keys were in a drawer.)
Should I delete the message I sent Ayanokoji?
We started down the stairs. I turned on the lights and looked at what was once my home: the glass cage.
Or maybe a glass box.
For me, it was a cage. Mr. Mooney left me in there for many days. I have to admit that I was ungrateful, an idiot, I didn't know how to appreciate books. He taught me a lesson, and I learned it.
That's why I'm a unique man today, Beck. I assure you he did a good job raising me... in his own way.
"Wow... it's strange. Terrifying."
"The books are kept at minimum temperatures. The cage's light bulb is special; it emits fewer rays than others." Mr. Mooney told me that even at room temperature, books degrade, that the sun can damage them faster than fire. Books, even hardcover ones, should be kept upright, never lying down.
"That's a lot of information just to protect old books."
"The things we care about most often seem useless. That's why they need us to protect them, Paco. You have to protect what matters to you."
Paco put the milkshake on the floor before entering the cage. I already have an idea of what he'll be reading.
"Take this, it's Don Quixote. You'll find out what it's about as you read it. It's one of my favorites."
Paco took the book carefully. His gaze spoke more than Ayanokoji could say in a day. And that's even though gazes don't speak words, Beck.
"I can't take it, it's too valuable to you, Joe."
"Don't worry, it's just an early edition, but not the first. Besides, I trust you, Paco."
After half an hour, we returned to the building and found the author of this night out.
"Paco, where have you been?"
The boy shuddered when he heard Ron's tone. I probably would have too before I met Mr. Mooney.
"I went out with Joe for some milkshakes."
"Okay, come in. Your mother is waiting for you."
Paco walked through the door. Ron, the usual alcoholic, closed it behind him and faced me.
"Stay away from my partner's son."
"Look, I'm sorry. But Paco could hear everything you were doing in there."
He came closer. I swear, I wasn't in the mood to take a beating today.
"Don't tell me how to raise my child. This act of being a good man may work for you with others, but not with me. I've worked as a police officer for fifteen years and I know the kind of man you are."
(The guy who enjoys beating women wants to give me lessons in morality. Fascinating.)
"I hope you stay away from Paco." He turned around and went into his apartment.
Bad luck today, Beck. Really. Living in this building... there are too many scary people in the world. That's why it's so important to stay safe.
Fun fact:
Did you know that by law, if there's a report of a gas leak, it has to be investigated?
What better opportunity to come into your little home and find out things about you. The man in charge of checking didn't hesitate when I told him I was your boyfriend.
And it's true that it's a tiny shoebox. It's pretty messy. When we live together, I'll make sure it's always clean.
"There's no leak, tell your girlfriend everything's fine."
"Thanks, I'll close the door."
And the gas man left.
I have a lot to check, I hope your writing classes don't end early. I don't want to scare you. I need to know who you really are, beyond being a poet who lives in an apartment you could never afford on your own.
When we live together, you'll never have to eat this supermarket food. I'll learn to cook for you. Every day. I promise.
Your photos with your friends... you smile so much. Next to them was something curious: your panties. Pink. I'll keep them in my pocket. I swear I'll take them to the laundry for you.
Your books too... they're in very bad shape. I'll take care of them, your favorites.
I'll make our bed every morning. Oh, look at that: your computer, Beck. I just need to find out something.
Who was the man who visited you yesterday?
I spent several hours looking through your photos. Several of you naked, showing your nipples. How daring you are. I hope you don't show them to anyone.
Your draft poems... too many. I don't understand what it means to you to be blocked. Maybe you should spend less time on social media and focus.
And there he is: Benjamin Ashby III.
Benji. Everyone calls him Benji. What a jerk. Don't get me wrong, Beck, but if I had the chance to have you... I'd make the most of it.
I managed to read a little of their messages. Enough. That son of a bitch wrote that he can still smell you on his fingers. I'll make sure to cut him up.
The door opening and your voice on the phone made me jump out of your bed and try to escape through the window.
"Yes... Greenpoint? I'll be there. I had a bad day, that's all, but I'll go."
You had a bad day because you didn't see me, Beck. That's all.
Shit. My back.