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Parker felt good. There were hands spreading his legs — big hands, a man’s hands. It didn’t scare him, though it ordinarily might have. He was warm, and then there was a body covering his and he got warmer still. He didn’t know much about this kind of love-making. He thought it was like a man and a woman. There was a face pressed to his neck, breathing heavy.
He woke up on the brink of orgasm. His thighs tensed, and his hips jerked against the mattress, and he got there before he was even really aware of it.
It came to him slowly. Dream, Parker thought. He could hear his own breathing now, and feel the blanket on his back and the wetness between him and the bedsheets. He wasn’t wearing anything. He still felt good, but awareness was intruding on the feeling. It took real effort to turn his head and look at the other bed. It was empty but unmade, so Lynn had slept and gone down to breakfast.
Parker rolled over, the friction the movement caused was good where he was sensitive. He remembered last night.
- - -
The way it always worked was that Parker wanted it bad after a job, and it could go on for a week or two until his desire would subside and he would be practically an ascetic by the time the next job rolled around. It was a cycle Lynn should’ve grown used to, and hadn’t, in their three years of marriage.
They were staying at one of the usual resort hotels in Miami. Lynn had wanted to go down to a cocktail party last night, she’d wanted to talk to her girl friends, she’d wanted to spend some of the cold hard cash Parker had brought back on something flashy to wear to the party. Charles Willis went to cocktail parties, and he went yachting and fishing and he went to a whole bunch of places Parker wouldn’t. But the compartmentalization of his life was old habit by now, and it had gotten easier with time. Like an actor on stage, it worked fine at a distance.
Lynn wasn’t always pleased with the results. Parker had gone on ahead when he’d run out of things to say, and she’d come back late and smelling of alcohol. When she’d climbed into bed with him, it should’ve been fine. It had only been a week since the last job, and Parker thought he’d want it. He usually did.
But no matter how Lynn touched him and how she kissed him, it wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t get her interested either. Even under the haze of adrenaline, he didn’t know how — she led then. There was no adrenaline here. Parker kept being aware of the sticky feel of her lipstick on his mouth and neck. He grabbed Lynn’s wrist the second time she made a move for his belt, his big hand looking dangerous on her despite the light grip.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said.
Lynn took her hand back and went to the other bed. “Maybe not,” she said.
Parker undressed for bed with his back to her and laid back down. He was still thinking about this last job, and the new man Joe Sheer had brought in on it.
- - -
Alan Grofield was brand new to the business. They were sitting around the big dining room table in Joe Sheer's apartment in Omaha, and he was all smiles and handshakes and how-do-you-dos. It was nerves, Parker figured. Grofield had one haphazard supermarket robbery under his belt, and Joe seemed delighted by his general existence when he'd introduced him to the room. Parker trusted Joe Sheer, but he wouldn't have described himself as delighted.
It was four of them on the job — a payroll hit, so they had a good idea of the take and how to get it. Joe laid it out for them, and said it came to about twelve thousand a man. Handy McKay nodded, he was between cigarettes so he was poking at his teeth with the plain end of a wooden match. Parker met his eyes, and then he looked at Grofield. If Grofield had any questions, he didn't show it. He kept smiling when Joe brought out the blueprints.
Once the planning broke up, Joe and Handy started talking shop. They were both career juggers, but Joe had seniority. Parker watched them a while, then he got up and went into the kitchen and got two beers from the fridge. Joe always entertained guests in the city, and he never did do any jobs around Omaha. Parker had holed up in this apartment once or twice. Joe was getting up there, but he still had it. He'd taught Parker everything he knew.
When Parker came back, he found Grofield by the window, watching the street down below. He handed him a beer.
"Oh!" Grofield said.
Their hands brushed, and he was very warm to the touch.
Grofield smiled too much. That’s what it was. He had this movie star smile, and it went with the rest of his big blonde self. He was as tall as Parker, around there anyway, but where Parker was all lean sharp lines, Grofield had some softness to him like leftover baby fat. Parker didn’t know how old he was, but he wasn’t any more of a kid than Parker was.
“Thank you,” Grofield added. He had this theatrical manner about him, it wasn’t what he said but the way he said it. “I’m Alan.”
“Yes.”
Grofield laughed. It was genuine amusement. He popped open the can of beer, and leaned against the windowsill. He seemed more certain now, no more furtive glances. “What do you do outside of this, Parker?”
He’d remembered his name, but that wasn’t impressive. There weren’t many of them. Parker looked at him. There wasn’t anything for him outside of the business. Parker’s life was the plan, with brief interludes to allow for rest. In the in-between times, he lived in resort hotels with his wife. Lynn was practical, like the gun Parker kept clipped to the springs under the bed. His thoughts kept straying to the last time he’d been down at the beach in Miami. Swimming was most of what he did outside the job. “I go to the beach,” he said.
“Is that so?”
Grofield was straining not to make it sound flirtatious. He was an obvious homosexual. Parker wondered how he’d ended up here, but he knew the answer was desperation. It nearly always was. He’d never worked with a homosexual before. Parker opened his own beer and took a sip of it. He didn’t enjoy it nor dislike it, it was the thing to do in a social setting.
“I’m an actor,” Grofield said. He hadn’t waited to be asked. Having gone through a variety of expressions, he settled on a sheepish smile. He wouldn’t meet Parker’s eyes.
Parker was interested now. He’d never met an actor before either. There were long stretches of time where he went to two or three double features a week. “In the movies?”
“No, not in the movies.” A cloud had come over Grofield’s sunny disposition. He was looking at Parker again, but it was a great big serious thing. “I’m a stage actor, a real actor. I do summer and winter stock and I want to try producing one day. But that takes real talent, which film and television actors don’t possess. Nobody with real talent makes a living off it.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I’m sorry.” Grofield was embarrassed now, the intensity had left him and all at once, he seemed keenly aware of what he’d just said and where he was and how little the men in this room knew about the world he inhabited. He took a big gulp of beer.
Parker kept his voice low, Handy and Joe had resumed their conversation after a lull. “Are you using your real name?”
“Oh, a bit of intrigue?” Grofield’s eyes sparkled. “Alas, I was born Alan Joseph Grofield.”
“You can’t use your real name here and on stage.” Parker had five or six aliases, all well-established with all the papers any cop in the world could dream of. It was what professionals did, and Grofield was clearly one elsewhere. His passion had startled Parker, but it had pleased him too. There was real potential.
“Well, why not?”
“You’ll be booked as Alan Grofield. Won’t you lose out on jobs– roles with a record?”
“If we’re caught, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you planning on getting caught, Parker?”
Parker didn’t care about that. “It’s about being prepared.”
“I trust that you won’t get me arrested.” Grofield smiled again. It was only a little frayed around the edges. He was relieved Parker had accepted his other profession, and the relief made room for bravado.
Parker drank some more beer. He didn’t want Grofield locked up either.
- - -
The job had gone well. Grofield was driving and Parker could see he was nervous in the way he was gripping the wheel but he took smooth turns and didn’t run any red lights. He knew there wasn’t anybody chasing them back there, even if he didn’t believe it.
Parker was in the back with Handy, each of them holding a black attache case, and Joe was sitting in front next to Grofield. Every now and again he’d tell him to go down this or that street, but they were all silent most of the time.
In the lead up to the job, Parker had no imagination for how it would go. He knew what he had to do, and he’d do it. He didn’t get flutters in the aftermath either, there was no point, but he could feel his body starting to relax. Later, he’d start thinking about sex. Maybe tonight, maybe the next night. They were supposed to split the take in the Green Glen Motel tomorrow, then he’d fly out from Newark to Miami the following afternoon.
Grofield dropped them off one by one. They’d decided to wait it out in different hotels. Parker kept one attache case, and Handy the other. They trusted one another, but that was the way it was done. When Joe said, “a sweet job,” and left smiling, Parker took the opportunity to get out and move to the passenger seat. It was just him and Grofield now.
“It was, wasn’t it?” Grofield said, starting the car again.
“You did good.”
“For an amateur, you mean?”
Parker glanced over at him. Grofield did look like an actor, a good profile with a strong nose, his hair all wavy and blonde and carefully tended so it would curl just so. Parker could see him on a cigarette card like they had when he was a kid.
“You won’t always be an amateur,” he said.
“I have a bright future in the field?” Grofield was smiling.
He was joking, so Parker didn’t answer. Instead he said, “you’ll remember to dump the car before you go to your hotel?”
Grofield nodded. “Yeah, and switch with the one Handy stashed.” He thought about something a minute, then said, “why do we call him Handy anyway?”
Parker shrugged. “He was already Handy when I met him.” He’d never wondered if there was a story in there. Parker settled back to watch Scranton go by. Sometimes it was like that, you made a plan somewhere and a week later you were on the other side of the country actually doing it. Joe knew one of the payroll clerks, it really had been a sweet job.
“You’ve been doing this for a while?”
Grofield couldn’t seem to stay quiet now that they were alone.
“Yeah.”
Parker thought of it like he’d done it his whole life, but that wasn’t strictly true. He’d started at sixteen. There was petty theft and a dishonorable discharge somewhere in the past but he’d never taken a fall. He didn’t tell Grofield any of it though, there was no point, but he looked back at him once or twice and he could see he wanted to ask more and didn’t know how to go about it. Parker didn’t know how to close the gap either. He’d never been any good at small talk.
“You can drop me off here,” Parker said when they reached the hotel, but Grofield was already turning into the gravel parking lot.
It was modest and way the hell out of the way, Parker had chosen it because it was a working man’s hotel. There were no tourists to venture out here and no salesman brought his family along — a single man wouldn’t stand out.
“Thank you for this, Parker, really,” Grofield said. He’d unbuckled his seatbelt and turned all the way around to face Parker. He looked very sincere.
“You did good work,” Parker repeated.
He held out his hand and Grofield shook it. Neither lingered any more than necessary.
“How about I pick you up in the morning and we go to that motel together?” Grofield said. “I’ll spend the night getting intimately acquainted with a map of the area.”
“It’s not far,” Parker said. “I can drive tomorrow.”
“And you’d rob me of my night of passion with a beautiful Esso map?” Grofield smiled. “Oh, fine. I’ll be here around eleven?”
“Sure.” Parker nodded. “See you then,” he said and stepped out of the car.
- - -
It was an uneventful drive. They stopped once at a diner because Grofield hadn’t eaten. Parker got more coffee, he’d had breakfast already. Grofield spoke about the stage in stilted anecdotes, like he cared for it so deeply he couldn’t risk Parker’s judgement.
They got to the Green Glen Motel just past noon, Madge was in the office talking Joe’s ear off and it turned out they were still waiting for Handy.
Madge had been a prostitute some time in the 1920s — the best decade of her life, she still said — and had saved up her money to buy and keep this motel. It kept her connected to her previous profession, since most of the rooms were generally rented by the hour. Parker had met her through Joe Sheer, like he’d met everybody else in the business, and there had even been a time when he’d tried running around with one of Madge’s girls, Rose, but it really had been strictly friendship despite mutual efforts. Parker had come to understand the need for women, but he didn’t think he’d ever wanted any; not Lynn, not anybody else. Not the way you were supposed to want them.
“I hope he didn’t get into any trouble,” Grofield said.
Madge threw her hands up in sudden delight. “Joe was just telling me about you!” She loved seeing new faces in the business. “He didn’t say you were so adorable. Look at those baby blues!”
A sudden change seemed to take place within Grofield. He leaned in a little and his smile turned sort of rakish, and Parker could imagine him on stage then. “Alan Grofield, at your service,” he said and kissed Madge’s hand.
Madge’s pencil-thin eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Oh, I know your type,” she said, and then both her and Grofield were laughing.
Parker watched them with detached confusion. When he heard a car pull up, he went out in case it was Handy and waved him in when he saw him.
They split the score quick. Parker counted it twice, getting impatient with all the talk going on around him, and it was a little over twelve thousand each like they’d expected. Parker put his share in the same attache case he’d had last night and said his goodbyes.
“Take my car, Parker, I said I’d get a ride with Handy in a couple days,” said Joe and handed him the keys.
Parker knew they went with a Lincoln Continental that had hot plates out of state, so he’d leave it in the airport parking lot like Joe would’ve done. He nodded his thanks and walked out to the car. Madge yelled something after him but he didn’t hear what it was and kept on going.
Grofield came rushing out a minute later though, and Parker did stop then. He’d already made it to the car, and there was nobody else around here, the chatter from the office too far away to be heard.
“She told you to hold on.” Grofield grinned.
“You want a ride to the airport?”
“No, no–” Grofield looked like his script had run away from him. “I just wanted to thank you again.”
Parker didn't think he’d done anything special.
“I haven’t decided where I’m going yet,” Grofield continued, “but if you ever need another man on a job like this, would you give me a call?” He rummaged through his pockets and emerged with a telephone number written on hotel stationary.
“What’s this?”
Parker folded it and put it in his back pocket anyway.
“My folks back in Indiana.” Grofield shrugged his shoulders, and his smile looked a little painted on. He knew it wasn’t the way things were done. “I’m usually touring or— it’s a very seasonal thing, you see. I’ll be somewhere for six months, or I might be on the road, but they always know how to get in touch with me. And I’m home if I’m not acting.”
“I see.”
Husbands and wives sometimes pulled jobs together, or the wife would be in on it and she’d sit and worry somewhere, but parents and homes to go back to were another planet entirely. Parker must’ve made a face because Grofield’s smile was hanging on by a thread, but he understood the rest of it. He didn’t ask if the life was right for him or if Grofield had tried making ends meet some other way. He could see the intensity of Grofield’s desire for the stage, and Parker sometimes felt that way himself making the plan come together. He appreciated the dedication to a craft.
“I’ll call you if I hear anything, but it might not be for some time,” he said.
“Oh, I think I’m set for a long time.” Grofield laughed, and it sounded natural enough. “But I really enjoyed working with you, Parker.”
Parker nodded and unlocked the car door. He put the attache case in the passenger seat, and the sports jacket he’d been carrying on one arm over it. “So long,” he said and got in.
“I’ll be seeing you.”
Grofield was still waving when Parker pulled out of the lot.
- - -
The man in Parker’s dream was blonde. Parker thought this only very distantly at first, like he could remember watching himself having the dream and seeing the man moving on him. Then awareness collided with the memory and he knew he’d been dreaming about Alan Grofield. The heat of his arousal was so sudden Parker’s hips moved against the mattress like he thought he could go again but then he really felt the wet spot underneath him and he was all the way awake all at once. He sat up.
Lynn’s bed was still empty. He knew no one had walked into the room in the minutes he’d spent drifting between waking and sleeping, and it bothered him that he felt a streak of fear anyway. Like Lynn would know, if she came in here.
Parker had never had a dream like that before.
There had been a boy in the army, one of the reasons for the discharge, and even then he’d never had a dream like that. He noticed men, but he didn’t think about it. He thought was in control of it, he’d been fighting it all his life.
Parker got up and padded naked to the closet. He got the slacks he’d worn that last day on the job and searched through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. He put the slacks back on the hanger, went to get his wallet from the nightstand and slipped Grofield’s number in there.
He wasn’t thinking of anything else. He’d go find Lynn and get something to eat, and the sheets would probably be changed while he was gone.
Parker nodded to himself; that settled it.
He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He took his time shaving after that, his stubble always came in dark and obvious.
When he stepped into the shower and felt the hot water hit his chest, Parker thought about the dream again and felt another stirring of arousal. It had affected him badly, but he was sure he’d forget it eventually. He kept his big hands by his side and the warmth low in his belly faded after a minute. He reached for the soap.