Michael answered, not letting her know that he was not her neighbor.
He touched the Mezuzah on the front door frame and kissed his hand before entering the apartment.
Here he was, back in D.C. after almost twenty-five years. Michael had not been here since his maternal grandmother died, and he was actually looking forward to it. About an hour after Eric left, Michael’s boxes arrived. What timing. Within two hours, he had everything unpacked and was settled in. Now, who is obsessive? He thought.
Michael called Sharon to tell her he arrived safely and would see her Monday when she returned from her mountain retreat in West Virginia. Then, he ordered some dinner from the Chinese take-out menu he found on the refrigerator and settled in for the night.
The next day was Saturday, and he spent most of the day walking around the neighborhood and running errands, grocery shopping and the like.
In the evening, Michael was restless, so he went online to see what the nightlife in Washington had to offer. It had been years since he had been out to a bar, but he lacked for anything else to do, so he printed out a list of bars and dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and sneakers. He walked to 16 th Street and hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to the D.C. Falcon on New York Avenue. Within twenty minutes, the cab pulled up to a nondescript building with a door that had written on it, “D.C. Falcon.” He paid the fare and exited the cab.
The neighborhood looked a little dicey, and Michael was glad he was wearing sneakers in case he needed to make a fast getaway from a mugger. He walked quickly to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Michael pulled the list of bars from his wallet and checked the hours of operation. The D.C. Falcon was supposed to be open from 6:00 pm to 2:00 am, and Michael looked at his watch and saw it was a little after 10:00 pm. He looked around the door and saw a button that he figured was a bell, so he pushed it. Within a few seconds, the door opened, and a large bearded man, wearing a harness, leather chaps and a leather jock strap opened the door and eyed Michael up and down.
“Yes?” the bouncer asked.
“Are you open?” Michael asked as he looked inside and saw there was a sizable crowd in the darkened bar, most of whom were dressed in black or leather garb.
“Yes, there’s a $10 cover to get in,” the bouncer responded.
Michael reached for his wallet and stepped inside. He pulled a $10 bill from his wallet to hand to the bouncer, but the man shook his head no to Michael and said, “I can’t let you in. We have a dress code.”
Michael gave the bouncer a puzzled look and asked, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“You’re wearing sneakers,” the bouncer said pointing to Michael’s shoes.
Michael looked at his shoes and didn’t think they looked bad as they were gray with blue lettering and practically brand new.
“So?” Michael asked.
“The rules are black leather shoes or boots, preferably boots and absolutely no sneakers,” the bouncer said as he opened the door, signaling for Michael to leave.
Michael turned around and walked out then he turned back to the bouncer and said, “I don’t think you realize whom you just kicked out of your dump.”
The bouncer responded, “From what I can see another pretty boy who wants to play with a daddy.”
Michael shook his head and walked to the curb in the hope of hailing a cab before he was accosted by some hood. As he stood there, he heard the door to the bar open, but he didn’t look back to see who it was. He heard footsteps behind him, and then someone tapped his shoulder. Michael jumped and yelled, then he turned and said, “I’m leaving, asshole, I’m just waiting for a cab …” But, it wasn’t the bouncer.
Standing in front of Michael was a man in his thirties, who was around five-foot-nine, with a crew cut, a goatee and, from what he could see in the dark, gray eyes. The man was wearing a
He touched the Mezuzah on the front door frame and kissed his hand before entering the apartment.
Here he was, back in D.C. after almost twenty-five years. Michael had not been here since his maternal grandmother died, and he was actually looking forward to it. About an hour after Eric left, Michael’s boxes arrived. What timing. Within two hours, he had everything unpacked and was settled in. Now, who is obsessive? He thought.
Michael called Sharon to tell her he arrived safely and would see her Monday when she returned from her mountain retreat in West Virginia. Then, he ordered some dinner from the Chinese take-out menu he found on the refrigerator and settled in for the night.
The next day was Saturday, and he spent most of the day walking around the neighborhood and running errands, grocery shopping and the like.
In the evening, Michael was restless, so he went online to see what the nightlife in Washington had to offer. It had been years since he had been out to a bar, but he lacked for anything else to do, so he printed out a list of bars and dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and sneakers. He walked to 16 th Street and hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to the D.C. Falcon on New York Avenue. Within twenty minutes, the cab pulled up to a nondescript building with a door that had written on it, “D.C. Falcon.” He paid the fare and exited the cab.
The neighborhood looked a little dicey, and Michael was glad he was wearing sneakers in case he needed to make a fast getaway from a mugger. He walked quickly to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Michael pulled the list of bars from his wallet and checked the hours of operation. The D.C. Falcon was supposed to be open from 6:00 pm to 2:00 am, and Michael looked at his watch and saw it was a little after 10:00 pm. He looked around the door and saw a button that he figured was a bell, so he pushed it. Within a few seconds, the door opened, and a large bearded man, wearing a harness, leather chaps and a leather jock strap opened the door and eyed Michael up and down.
“Yes?” the bouncer asked.
“Are you open?” Michael asked as he looked inside and saw there was a sizable crowd in the darkened bar, most of whom were dressed in black or leather garb.
“Yes, there’s a $10 cover to get in,” the bouncer responded.
Michael reached for his wallet and stepped inside. He pulled a $10 bill from his wallet to hand to the bouncer, but the man shook his head no to Michael and said, “I can’t let you in. We have a dress code.”
Michael gave the bouncer a puzzled look and asked, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“You’re wearing sneakers,” the bouncer said pointing to Michael’s shoes.
Michael looked at his shoes and didn’t think they looked bad as they were gray with blue lettering and practically brand new.
“So?” Michael asked.
“The rules are black leather shoes or boots, preferably boots and absolutely no sneakers,” the bouncer said as he opened the door, signaling for Michael to leave.
Michael turned around and walked out then he turned back to the bouncer and said, “I don’t think you realize whom you just kicked out of your dump.”
The bouncer responded, “From what I can see another pretty boy who wants to play with a daddy.”
Michael shook his head and walked to the curb in the hope of hailing a cab before he was accosted by some hood. As he stood there, he heard the door to the bar open, but he didn’t look back to see who it was. He heard footsteps behind him, and then someone tapped his shoulder. Michael jumped and yelled, then he turned and said, “I’m leaving, asshole, I’m just waiting for a cab …” But, it wasn’t the bouncer.
Standing in front of Michael was a man in his thirties, who was around five-foot-nine, with a crew cut, a goatee and, from what he could see in the dark, gray eyes. The man was wearing a
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