Gypsy Heart by A.J. Llewellyn

Author:A.J. Llewellyn [Llewellyn, A.J.]
Language: nld
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: erotic MM, Romance MM
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * * *

Saturday, December 27, 1941

I awoke to the crazy sounds of street life just outside my door. The day started early in Chinatown. I realised how much I’d missed the excitement and intensity of life in Honolulu.

My mind flew to Maui and I wondered how Jane and Henry were getting along. In daylight, I took a good look around the little apartment. There was no phone, no radio, but there was a small ice box that had frozen over. Jason had left nothing in the way of personal items inside it. It really was just a crash pad. I checked the time. Seven o’clock. I’d dozed on and off and felt kind of crummy. I yearned for more sleep but knew that if I didn’t bathe and change now and instead went back to bed, I’d sleep for hours.

Jason. I couldn’t think about him now. Then I never would get out of bed.

That prompted me to get ready and explore my terrain. I knew the neighbourhood well and felt comfortable slipping outside and covering all my favourite spots. I started on River Street. I couldn’t resist walking past my old hotel, the Midway. It was as busy as ever, with men lining up to ‘climb the stairs’ as we called it. I wondered if I would know any of the girls there now.

I almost knocked on the back door to see if the brothel madam, Milaina, was still there.

A whiff of the awful disinfectant that permeated the brothels floated out of an open window, nearly knocking me out. I shook my head and raced away from there. What was I thinking?

Why did I even contemplate seeing her?

Because I’m lonely. Half of me is gone.

All the hotels were still there, the lines snaking around corners, the men patiently—and in some cases, impatiently—waiting their turn. I was shocked to learn the hookers on Hotel Street had hiked their prices to five dollars for three minutes. These girls must be raking in small fortunes.

I walked over to Miller’s Tattoo Parlour and found Eugene hard at work putting a hula girl on a drunken sailor’s arm.

GYPSY HEART

A.J. Llewellyn

57

“Hey brother,” he said, greeting me as I walked in. His shop still bore the sign in the window saying he was the youngest tattoo artist in the islands. I don’t know why I thought he’d have taken it down. It had only been a few weeks since I’d seen him. It still seemed like months.

“How’s Jason?” he asked, wiping down the tattoo with a gloved hand. The incessant pace with which he worked impressed me.

“He’s on a trip right now.”

Eugene looked surprised. At the age of fourteen, he was an enterprising guy, a lot older than his tender years would imply.

“And what about you? Back from Maui, I see.”

Not much escaped his attention.

“Yessir.”

He grinned. “For how long?”

“Not sure.”

“Stick around, kid, we’ll have some good times.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling good about having Eugene in my corner of friends. I’d missed the guy. He and his friends, as well as Jason, had helped me when I was beaten up.

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