Gigolo

By: Valentino Incanto Profferi

©Valentino Incanto Profferi 2009

The story told here is utterly, fictitious and any resemblance between the characters herein or the events depicted and any true incident depicted by the Fairy tale is completely coincidental and unintentional.

“What are you still doing here?” James was asking one of the miners that he found in the locker room, James was doing his rounds prior to closing the mines and offices at 4:30 P.M. Roy, the massively built miner eyed him with distaste and contempt before responding with his blue sweatshirt pulled half way up over his shaved head, the posture accenting his enormous, round beer-belly covered in hair. “I’m late leaving because I had to call my wife about an issue at home.” The reply James got was given in a low drawl that was used in an attempt to disguise the miner’s profound dislike and irritation with his supervisor.

Most of the exchanges James had with the employees of the mine were like this, full of disbelief and irritation with each other. However, James had his scripted reply to rely on when confronted with any insolent or objectionable resistance from the employees. With the titles of Supervisor and Operations Manager he played James blurted out his reply in a low, measured tone with a subtle growl of threat in it. “If you want to keep your job, get on with going home. You are clocked out at four and supposed to be off the premises by four-thirty so we can lock down the premises. You have ten minutes.” With a snap of his fingers, a click of his heels, and a swish of his suit jacket, James turned and left the locker room to continue his rounds of the mining operations. Every evening for the last thirteen years, James, the manager, would check every room of the eight buildings and their elevators prior to locking all the doors and gates. At five o’clock on this Fridays, James had expected to be outside the gate in the Company car on the route to Madam Perle Gateaux’s fabulous home in Auburn California. This, he had done for the last thirteen years. However, today James would be later than the expected Six P.M. arrival time.

James, who was a careful and gentle sort of man, took his time with the remainder of his rounds to give Roy time to get out without need for a reprimand. Unlike the rest of the mine’s male employees, James was not rough, tough, muscular with a taste for beer, chips, and physical challenges. He was a man of medium height and medium build with long fine limbs and features with short dark hair. His demeanour and expression were both gentle and patient, which earned him the affections of most women and the ire of most men. Having always been socially careful and chivalrous he had always kept the ladies fortunate enough to cross his path, keeping an eye out for his best interest since they wanted to keep him around. Because the women liked having a pleasant and inoffensive chap about to remind them of what a nice man could be like, they gave him a shield that kept the irritation of other men with his position from turning into a physically dangerous one.

James had the good fortune of not having to deal with the inter-male culture of competitive aggression that led to his co-workers having both jovial and perilous jousts. Sometimes their contest would result in physical injuries. Such incidents added to the lists James was obliged to compile of injured workers who were on leave for injuries obtained at the worksite. There were always a few lucky fools that were assigned light duty on the mine, but most took the time off to heal without pay. It was an exaggeration on James’ part, but he often felt that the men he supervised would just as well not work and fight over women and liquor instead. Unfortunately, no employer would pay them to do that, so they put in their minimal effort of four and a half hours of actual work in their allotted eight-hour day. It was, of course, to the chagrin of all the men who knew James that he was effectively under the very effective favours of every woman who had had the pleasure of meeting him. This list of protectors included many of the employed men’s stalwart wives.

Four thirty passed and was far gone by the time the patient middle-aged bachelor came back to the locker rooms to lock them. It was the last building to lock before leaving for the weekend. James walked through the double swinging doors with a smile wearing his light brown finely checked Italian suit. From his inner coat pocket, he took out a narrow toilet bag and hung up his coat on the wall hook. With a quick flick of his wrist, his leaf patterned green and brown tie was whisked off and pushed into his coat pocket. With his sleeve cuffs and shirt collar unbuttoned, James turned back toward the sinks and mirrors while rolling up his sleeves. From the slim and wallet-like toilet bag, he took out a razor, toothbrush and paste, comb and a slim vial of perfume. As gentle a man as he was, James was equally meticulous. After denuding his face of the five o’clock shadow, he straightened the lines of his hairline over his ears with the blade. He continued by brushing his teeth and tongue to keep his breath fresh until long after the dinner with Madam Gateaux. After opening his button down shirt past his diaphragm, he splashed the eau pour homes liberally over his chest and underarms to his cheeks and neck. The ritual took James some time because he let the scent dry after each of the three applications.

It was nearly six o’clock by the time his shirt was buttoned and his coat was back on with the tie folded neatly in the inner pocket, next to the toiletry. Scented heavily with the aroma of fall leaves and musk, James locked the locker room doors shut before walking out. The gates had to be padlocked with its chains signifying the end of another week. On the way to his car he stopped at the security booth and collected the keys to the Aston Martin DBS he had been given. James tipped the underpaid guard his customary $50 daily tip for watching over the car and washing it in the late afternoon. Putting his briefcase in the trunk, James settled into the supple dark leather interior. Breathing deeply with the relief of another week being over he let the tension of work flow out of him like a deflating balloon in the silence within his cockpit. A few minutes later he started the powerful rumbling motor and pushed the play button on the sound system. The incorporated ipod began to fill his mind and body as he departed the mine grounds on the south side of Sacramento, California.