Opportunities Written: October 13, 2003 Inspired by my personal Dom/Billy theme song. For Kiltie, because she has got the inclination and I have got the crime. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was shaking out the match from his second cigar when the voice froze his hand in mid-air. “Two root beer floats, please.” He looked up from beneath his eyebrows, saw the boy leaning on the counter. Scuffing one trainer on the bar runner. Humming tunelessly, staring at the ceiling, rocking back and forth with adolescent impatience beneath a faded Man U t-shirt. His teeth ground into his cigar as he inhaled. The boy snapped to attention when the waitress set two glasses down. He laid a note on the counter with a “Cheers” that only cracked a little bit and turned away with his handful, tongue between his teeth in concentration. “Hey kid.” The boy looked up, sloshing his cargo, and raised his eyebrows in a slack-jawed who, me? “C’mere.” He watched the boy’s face open when he got to the tiny booth, gaping at the suit and the gold cigar case gleaming on the table. He flicked his match away and leaned back, drawing easily on his smoke, and looked at the white rivulets running down between the boy’s fingers. “That’s a lot of ice cream.” The boy’s face split into a smile. “Oh, this. One’s for me girlfriend.” He gestured with his head to a table in the sun and a girl with a black ponytail and the sleeves rolled up on her pink Greater Prestwich Anglican Youth t-shirt. “Molly,” said the boy, presumably for clarification. “She’s very pretty.” The boy nodded. “Yeah. Well, I should—" “How would you like to make enough money to take pretty Molly to a much nicer place than this for root beer floats?” He tapped his cigar on the ashtray until the boy closed his mouth. “How’s that?” “What’s your name, lad?” “Dominic.” “Well listen to me, Dominic. Has anyone ever told you that you should have your picture taken?” The boy snorted. “What, you mean like that?” His eyes went to the French Connection poster beside the loo and the naked bronze torso stretched across it. “I mean exactly like that.” Dominic snorted again, but his cheeks had turned faintly pink. “You joking or what?” He reached into his pocket and laid a white card on the table without looking at it. He kept his eyes on the boy’s, wide and grey-blue. He smiled. “My name is William Boyd, Dominic. Call me Bill.” Dominic shifted the glasses in his hands. “Look, I gotta go—" “How do you think that boy got on that poster, Dom? Can I call you Dom? He wasn’t born in a magazine. Someone hired him. Someone saw him in a pub taking ice cream to his girlfriend, and offered him a job, and a chance to be famous. Someone like me, Dom. That’s what I do.” Dominic was staring in amazement. “You’re from Glasgow, aren’t you?” “The big city.” The boy looked leery, all too aware of the eyes of Molly across the room. But he had taken another step towards the table. “I don’t usually do this sort of thing, Dom, but when I saw you I thought to myself, this lad has got something special. Are you sure no one’s ever told you this before?” “My da says I’m funny-lookin.” “I’ve been looking for someone for my next project, someone new, someone fresh. Someone just like you. If you’re interested, that is.” The boy was staring at the business card, biting his lip. He stuck his cigar back into his mouth and lowered his voice. “Your ice cream is melting.” “Oh.” Dom winced, and bent his head to lick the stream running down the back of his hand. Bill's tongue curled around his cigar. “So what do you say?” The boy gave a quick glance to the FC poster, then down at his own Man-U clad chest, and his blush deepened around his crooked grin. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?” “As a heart attack, my lad. I’m looking for a partner. You’ve got the looks, I could see that across the room. You play your cards right, you could make a lot of money. But only if you’re willing to take the opportunity.” He drew on his cigar, watching. Dominic licked his lips and leaned forward, balancing the sweating glasses in one hand long enough to swipe up the card and stick it in his back pocket. His fingers left a puddle of white ice cream on the tabletop. “Look, I don’t know, but—" “You just think about it, seriously. Give me a call, whenever you want. I’m just lucky I found you first.” He looked up at the boy, watched his words spread pink across his face, and stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. “You’d better get that ice cream to pretty Molly now.” “Yeah, I am. I mean, I gotta go. But I’ll... I’ll think about it. Yeah... sure. See ya.” He watched the boy’s back, saw his spine straighten a little as he walked away. He let a slow smile spread across his face, and as he watched the boy disappear around the corner he drew a finger through the smudge on the table and slipped it sticky-sweet into his mouth. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ home