Havana Bay by John Patrick

Author:John Patrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical, Cuba, age gap, male models, prostitution, gender bending, interracial/intercultural, tobacco farming, cigar production, college students, humor, politics, sexual awakening, virgin, public sex
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2023-05-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“TO THE LEFT,” Matt said, his annoyance clear.

Ernesto spent a brief moment confirming to himself he understood left and right in English. “This is left,” he insisted. The mattress wobbled between them as they tried to negotiate the turn into the bedroom.

“My left,” Matt grunted.

They’d already moved Matt’s meager possessions into Mannix’s and Cordero’s—and now Matt’s—cramped bedroom. The mattress had come out of the storage closet. It was small but unwieldy enough to be difficult to maneuver through the twists and turns of the narrow hallways across the length of the inn.

Matt was convinced Eduardo would return soon, so he’d taken off his clean, pressed shirt and carefully placed it on the back of the room’s only chair. Cordero was in the reception hall, ready to check in the new guests who’d be arriving soon. Ernesto was still in his houseboy uniform. He’d have work to do after this, helping the newcomers with luggage and anything else they might require.

Ernesto was in front, and therefore walking backward, and he nearly stumbled as Matt made a final push into the tight curve through the doorway. The room’s ceiling light reflected off Matt’s damp, white chest. “Jesus,” he said, as he dropped his hold on the mattress, leaving Ernesto leaning into his end.

Matt wiped sweat from his brow and surveyed the room. “This is grim.”

Ernesto thought about how much he’d love to sleep in such close quarters with Hank. “I’m losing my grip,” he said. “Where does this go?”

“There’s no space,” Matt complained.

Ernesto let the mattress drop. “It’s going to have to block the closet door. You’ll need to move it anytime someone wants to get dressed.” He thought of Ivan’s mattress—smaller and thinner than this one—and how he’d roll it under his bed each morning. He wanted to talk to Hank about trying to find his cousin again.

They pushed the mattress across the floor until it sat squarely in front of the closet.

“Do you think they snore?” Matt asked. Ernesto didn’t know; it wouldn’t be fair to judge Hank based on the noises he made all night when he was sick, so he said nothing. “Or worse,” Matt continued. “You don’t think they would, you know…do anything together, do you? Not while I’m in the room, right?”

It took a moment for Ernesto to understand what Matt was implying. At first, he was angry, but then he realized Matt might not know how much he and Hank had come to mean to each other. It was still so new and surprising even to Ernesto.

“No, of course not,” he said. “Hank told me he and Mr. Cordero aren’t like that. They don’t do anything together. It’s just for the magazine people.” How had Hank put it? “They’re just acting.”

“Oh,” Matt said, but he didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? Because Alan seemed to think they might, and the guests here at the inn all spread the same rumors.”

“Well, that’s the nature of rumors, isn’t it?” Ernesto felt bad for Hank, with people talking so freely about him behind his back.

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