Nero Caesar
He's an ugly little bugger. His chalky silhouette leaps from the red brick behind the mantle. Lyre in hand, he stares. Greg feels him, knows he's staring.
"You want some more wine?" Harry asks.
"I'm good," Greg says. "Why him?"
"Why who?" Harry answers, playing the twenty question game Greg offers.
"Nero," Greg says.
Greg thinks he's a pro. His style is smooth and unrehearsed. Harry likes to be daddy. Greg knows the schoolboy approach will boost the tip. He presses the glass to his lips, curls them in a slight smile and winks at Harry.
"Nero was my kind of fag," Harry says.
"Why is that?" Greg shifts to a more reclined position and takes off his shoes.
"He was openly queer and in charge of Rome," Harry says. "On his wedding night, he dressed as a woman and consummated his nuptials in public. He was brash, daring and everything I'm not." Harry runs his fingers through his gray hair and gives Greg a visual once over.
"How did his story end?" Greg tilts his head to expose more of his slender neck. He knows that it drives Harry wild. He looks again at the little statue, feeling a chill as he connects with the sightless eyes.
Harry has Greg over when his wife visits the grandchildren. It's the same every time. One night costs a thousand bucks, plus a tip. Greg is discreet, clean and looks like Harry's oldest boy.
"His own Praetorian Guard did him in," Harry says.
"Being queer has its drawbacks," Greg says. He pulls the tiny bag of cocaine out of his pocket, reaches in to draw out a small portion with a fingernail and takes a bump. He rubs the remainder over his teeth and gums. Harry frowns.
"He was killed because he was a lousy ruler," Harry says. "I wish you wouldn't do that here."
"It's performance enhancement," Greg replies. "Anyway, you like it when I'm a naughty boy."
"Don't give me any lip," Harry says and then smiles.
Harry leans over and begins to rub the inside of Greg's thigh. Greg sets his wine glass down on the coffee table and works his way into the corner of the couch. Greg's not gay, but he needs the money to keep the juice coming. He looks again at the statue. Somehow, he thinks, that little bastard secretly nods in approval.
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asks.
"You, of course," Greg lies.
Harry turns the lamp off. Greg can see the silhouette in the darkness. Nero is still peeking, Greg thinks. Greg is resigned to having an audience. Assassination or uncontrollable hepatitis, dead is dead. Greg and Nero have something in common.
Only Harry hasn't made the connection. He will soon enough. Greg reaches down and unbuckles Harry's belt. A job's a job and he never really bought into the wages of sin anyway. In the darkness, Greg winks at Nero Caesar.
He's almost positive that the little bastard winked back