Extra Long Handshake

Quite some time ago.

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It was day-day when Nero was told he would have to leave the hotel room.

It was one of the cheapest hotels in town at $50 a day. Two twin-sized beds were disguised to be a Queen sized bed, the TV was old, so old Nero wasn't sure what some of the settings on the remote was for, and for whatever odd reason there was a complimentary coffee machine inside the bathroom.

He awoke to loud bangs on the door, and he got out of bed, in his too-big shirt, shorts, and green socks, peeked through the looking glass, and then opened the door to see the hotel manager.

The hotel manager, whom everyone called Hairy Harry because he had hair on every part of his body except for his head, was sweaty, always sweaty, always happy, bombastic, and friendly, but today, he was furious.

"You told me you were eighteen when you came here , " Harry shouted. " You're seventeen years old now !"

Nero leaned on the door pane and told him don't get an aneurysm, old man.

"No. You lied to me, you gave me a fake ID! I don't want no kid doin' stuff like this in here! You gotta find somewhere else," Harry said.

"Don't do this. It's so early. Can't we, can't I cut you a deal," Nero asked.

"Yeah, you can."

"O-oh. What do you want?"

" To leave by the check-in time. "

Nero slammed the door in his face and ground his teeth together, panicking and afraid. He didn't want to go back outside. It was so hot, so very very hot, people would ironically die of a heat stroke on an island-city every day, most of them street-walkers, and beach lovers like him.

He was desperate, he knew he couldn't use the same ID twice if it was already reported as fake, and he decided to break his first and only rule.

Don't shit where you eat.

Mumbling to himself that he wouldn't let him down, he was always good for the money anyway, Nero took one of the longest showers in his life, and got dressed in his friend's favorite color, yellow.

Plenty of gifts were stuffed in the drawer over the time he spent at the hotel, many of the outfits he would never wear, but he was glad he only had to wear them for thirty minutes, to an hour, or sometimes ten if they could only afford the finishing rate.

He donned a yellow shirt, tight jeans, and yellow sandals, something he would like but not something that would yell, ' I am clearly with this man for monetary reasons.'

An hour before checkout time, the man of the hour arrived, knocking on the door.

He wore his usual clothes, a loose short-sleeve floral print shirt to breathe under the heat, large, oversized sunglasses, swimming trunks, and weird plastic shoes with holes in them.

Nero was all packed up, ready to go, and was as honest as he could be with his friend about his predicament.

"Ray, they won't let me stay here anymore."

"What, you need rent? I can help with dat, you know I got you," Ray grinned.

"No, it's not about the money, I don't wanna go back outside."

Ray hugged him and said, I can't take you home, my wife would be furious.

"I can put you up someplace until you find a place, how about dat," Ray offered.

"Mm that would be nice," Nero mumbled.

Hairy Harry watched in disgust as Nero packed his luggage into Ray's trunk. He tried intervening, and got out a broom for the utility closet, and ran into the parking lot. Ray's sunglasses cracked and clattered to the ground while a fat man smacked him repeatedly, screaming that he's lucky they took away his gun permit.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Harry screamed.

"I'm just a friend," Ray lied.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna be the guy that sticks this broom up your ass. "

Hotel guests came outside, cheered, and watched from the balconies and sidewalk as Hairy Hary made good on his word, attempting to stick the wooden part of the broom up Ray's behind, while sitting on his back, pinning him down.

Nero tried pushing him off, but the fat man would not budge, but he did stop jabbing Ray's behind once Nero told him that he would stay.

"You can't stay here, but you 'aint leaving with him."

"I can't go back outside, please," Nero begged.

"Get off of me you fat fuc—"

Harry's eyes turned a light shade of lime and aimed the wooden broom a little lower. The sound of Ray's soul could be heard, escaping from his mouth.

"Oh gross. Is it in," Nero asked.

"Nah, I jabbed his nuts."

Harry stood up, dusted gravel and dirt off his pants, and started taking Nero's luggage out of the car, and back to the motel, one by one.

"Why are you doing this," Nero asked.

"Someone has to be looking for you after two whole years! I can help you-"

"No. I'm not going home and no one is."

Ray groaned, and got up, clutching his balls, whimpering, and screamed that he was calling the police, that everyone who stood and watched would be arrested!

"Ah man, you fucked up," Harry chuckled. "You're a dead man."

The very small community of long-time tenants did not take kindly to a man that had said he was calling the police. Some of them were felons, on multiple lists, people who wanted cheap rent and did illegal means to do it, and sometimes, the occasional traveler who was passing by.

Ray did not make it out of the parking lot, and Nero bit his lip when a few men dragged him off into the woods behind the gated area.

Harry dug around in his deep pockets, loose change jingling, and pulled out a blue wallet, and handed it to Nero, who immediately recognized it.

"How did you get his wallet," Nero asked.

"When I was your age, I stole things, like a regular kid! None of your extra-long handshakes, " Harry shouted. "Stealing is a good skill to have!"

"They're called handjobs-"

"I know! It's called a euphemism! Get back inside!"

Nero went back inside and was strangely touched but very disturbed by his neighbors and their willingness to help him. He wasn't sure if it was their inclination for violence or the fact that he had stayed there for two years, either way, they were more than willing to help him out.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Nero was sitting at the cracked steps of the front entrance, smoking, wearing a green speedo and his orange backpack, wanting to go out and give more extra-long handshakes, but the very long talk from Harry the night before made him pause .

Harry swung open the front entrance, trusty broom in hand, and started pushing Nero away from the dirty entrance.

"You're scaring away the customers! Go suck your stick somewhere else!"

"Do you hear yourself sometimes, old man," Nero snickered.

Harry started smacking his ankles, yelling at why he wasn't wearing any shoes.

"If your parents hit you more you wouldn't be here," Harry shouted. "Come inside already!"

Nero was done smoking and made it very clear that he was going inside because he wanted to, not because you told me to.

Inside the very small lobby, the front desk with a bulletproof window was a young man, quite tall and large with a deep tan and blonde hair. The receptionist was very nervous because he was wearing a mask, covering his mouth and nose.

He was wearing the nicest clothes he owned, his jeans that fit right, his new shirt, and he combed his hair, asking if they were still hiring.

"Get the fuck outta here," Harry yelled.

"No, I—"

"I am not afraid to use this," Harry shouted, shaking the broom.

"I am not a thief! It's a misunderstanding!"

"Why you got a mask? It's hotter than god's anus outside!"

Nero laughed, or more so wheezed, his smoker's cough getting the best of him as again Harry attempted to kill someone with a cleaning appliance. The man adeptly weaved his way around the small lobby, dodging all the broom swipes.

Harry would not be defeated.

His eyes turned a light shade of green and he focused.

In one quick move, he deftly took off his sandal, and with only the accuracy a man with several children could have, he flung his sandal across the room and clocked him right in the face with it.

Nero stopped laughing, impressed and confused as to how he got it to spin and curve .

The man's mask fell off, and large scars were over his face.

M. I. N. E.

"Look what you've done this time," the receptionist groaned.

"I thought he was trying to mug us, I didn't think he was, ya know- like all messed up. "

The man was embarrassed, quickly put on his mask, and left in a rush, off to find employment at a place not run by a fat man with a raspy throat from lacking an indoor voice.

"You shouldn't talk about people's bodies like that. It's wrong," Nero said.

"Don't talk back to me! Go clean something if you wanna stay tonight!"

Nero rolled his eyes and ran out the lobby, looking for the masked man, bored and feeling somewhat responsible, even though he wasn't. The masked man was standing on the corner edge of the hotel, near a bright red fire hydrant, texting on his phone, when Nero bounded over to him.

"I'm not a thief," he shouted.

"I know, I know, relax. I came here to ask if you know anywhere in town that's good. "

Nero held out his pinky, smiled, getting the message across, and the masked man frowned with his eyes.

"How old are you? Like, twelve? "

Grunting and scoffing in indignation, the scrawny, featherless, bipedal bird was upset at the accusation.

"I'm old enough ," Nero replied.

"You should go back inside, your dad is waiting for you."

"He is not my dad! He's my landlord! Well...for not much longer. I need a place to stay…"

"You out of a job too?"

"Kinda. I got money but no place."

"I got a place but no money," the man chuckled.

Nero grinned, clutched his backpack straps, and sat on the sidewalk curb, knowing that he had possibly gotten himself a new Ray, hopefully, one that wasn't as weird with choice in clothing.

"Can I—"

"You can't be my roommate, you're clearly... a beach lover, " the man said.

"I'm not, I'm a freelancer, " Nero fibbed.

"Look. I know a lady, Tana, that needs people. She's a manager at an 8-Twelve. If you get a job there, I'll consider it . I can't work there, since I got drug charges, but they might take you."

"I don't want no wage-slave shit," Nero said. "I got this. "

He opened his reliable orange backpack, flashed his cash, and quickly shut it.

"I can pay you rent upfront. I just need to leave before the cops come searching for a body," Nero said.

"Don't wanna know. Don't tell me. "

"So you'll pick me up tomorrow, right?"

The masked man said nothing and ignored him. He continued to ignore him and was upset. Nero was incessant, promising him several things, several things that he should not, and the masked man finally held up his hand and interrupted him.

"What kind of kid—"

"I am not a kid!"

"—just goes off with some guy to his house the first chance he gets? You don't even know my name. "

"What is it?"

Nero jolted awake, Adonis shaking him, the suns rising over the horizon, and he was lost, mumbling, still thinking he was at Hairy Harry's Hotel.

"Adonis, my name is Nero, but that's mah street name…"

"I know, don't sleep outside," Adonis said.

He slung him over his back, and then was concerned, interrogating him, asking when the last time he ate was, no the margaritas do not count.

"You're not Harry, you can't tell me what to do," Nero grumbled.

Many of the guests were inside, sleeping in various rooms, or had left, and Adonis brought Nero inside, piggyback style, and left him in the fancy day room on the beige chaise.

"You're getting too big for this," Adonis said.

"You let me do it anyway."

" So you're doing this purpose? "

Nero gave a smug smirk, went back to sleep, and Adonis collapsed on the chaise next to him.

He asked himself why he kept being strung along by a man-child but couldn't find the answer. He stared at said man-child on the chaise and a strange sort of unease rose up from his stomach and up to his chest.

He didn't know what the feeling was and didn't like it either.