The Tipping Point of Oliver Bass by Larry Spencer

Author:Larry Spencer [Spencer, Larry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532329968
Publisher: Chalk Hill Books
Published: 2016-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Spreading The Wealth

Jeffrey Bass had no idea I was coming. This was intentional, in case he refused to see me. I was pretty sure he thought he had seen the last of his son. That I was now on my own fending for myself and his responsibilities as a parent were over.

I was down to my last few dollars and was hoping he could give me some spending cash. Sure, he was being sued but I had to figure he had something stored away for a raining day. Something.

I took the municipal bus to the hotel. A buck fifty and no tip required. I couldn’t remember the last time I took the bus. (Actually, I’ve never taken the bus.) It dropped me off two blocks from the Stanford Court on California Street. It felt good to be back in the city.

I entered the hotel with confidence like I was a guest. Jumped in the first available elevator. It was filled with real guests. Four to be exact. A young gay couple who I’m guessing were on their honeymoon. They looked happy and in love, and kissed at every floor. I had to admit, watching two guys kiss in public felt a little awkward. Not that I was against it. Homosexuality these days is an accepted human lifestyle — my God, especially in San Francisco, right? The boys looked at me with a friendly smile.

“We don’t mean to make anyone feel uncomfortable but when you’ve waited as long as we have to tie the knot, ‘uncomfortable’ is a blessing,” the groom said. How did I know he was the groom? He was holding the room key and a bottle of champagne. The other guy was holding a small bouquet of flowers.

DING. It was their floor. They exited and the guy tossed me the bouquet before the doors closed. It took me by surprise, but I was honored. I was being stared at by the other passengers. I’m sure they were mocking me in some way. I wasn’t shy about responding to their glare. “Fuck you both in the ass. It’s an homage to the newlyweds,” I said.

They, of course, were very offended by my comment. Probably because they were octogenarians and staunch fascist fucking Republicans, I would guess.

I pounded on his door and called out at the same time. “Dad? Dad? Mister Bass! It’s me!”

This went on for several minutes. Other hotel guests wandered by, looking at me like I was abnormal. Pounding on a hotel room door, holding a bouquet of flowers and shouting “Mister Bass.” I felt the need to explain my actions.

“He locked me out and told me to eke out a living or starve.” This induced head shakes and rolling of eyes.

I started feeling anxious, like something was wrong. And I’m not an alarmist. I was about to head downstairs to the front desk for help when the lady from housekeeping appeared around the corner pushing her service cart. Coincidentally, it was the same woman my father had been having sex with a few days ago – Maria, I believe her name was.

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