Page 9 of Gold Rush
“He needs help. Our kind of help. He had a pimp dose him to get him hooked, but he’s…”
Eazy sat back with a sigh. “Thank god. I thought they were starting up again.”
“Don’t thank the man upstairs yet, baby. I can’t say as I want some hooker here.”
“Murph, come on! You can’t say that. All of us have done bad shit, worse than hooking to make a living.”
Eazy was eyeing his husband hard. “Murphy…”
“Fine! But…what the fuck do you want from me? I have all the bartenders I need. We don’t have another room. What can I do for the guy?”
“Give him a job, like…shagging booze when we run low. Bussing. We’ve hired plenty of bussers in the past, when we weren’t worried about their safety. Kitchen staff, you know people would like us to offer more pub food. Just…give him a chance. I’ll share my tips with him, some of the others might, too. He won’t cost you all that much, but…”
“And where is he gonna stay?”
“I’ll bunk with Abs or Haze for now, and he can have my room.”
Murphy smiled and asked, “Are you in love with this guy or something?”
“I just met him!”
Eazy whispered, “That wasn’t an answer.”
“I’m not some romantic ass that believes in love at first sight or anything of the sort. I just want to help someone like you helped me.”
Eazy told his husband, “He’s got you there. You hired folks right out of prison.”
“Don’t throw my shit in my face. I hired them for more than working around here.”
“And I’m a bad guy for not having a second agenda for him?”
“You do. You like the guy, even if you don’t love him. Theft is one thing. Love is just as destructive and unpredictable,” he said, firing up some. “I’m not a bad guy here, but with everything that just happened to all of us, and my husband and me wanting our two little kids back home, having a stranger here isn’t exactly making me overjoyed. But fine, if you want him here, fine, but he’s your responsibility! If anything happens because of him, it’s on you!”
During the entire rant, Eazy was laughing silently. “Oh, Murphy, you’re so stern.”
“You’re a real dick,” Murphy said to his husband, then laughed, and they started to kiss. Goldie excused himself.
“Thanks, Murph,” Goldie said in a whisper as he left the two lovebirds.
They’d met much the same way that Murphy met all his bartenders, in the visiting room of a jail. He broke his own rule about not dating one another, and he hadn’t regretted it for a moment. The two were meant to be in a way that Goldie had rarely seen.
But they weren’t the only ones who’d found love in the pub. Cosmo, and most recently Mimosa, had as well. Cosmo to an FBI agent and Mims to an undercover cop. They were all after the BBC for their smuggling of drugs, weapons and worst of all, humans. The hated cartel was lying low, but the buzz of fear and anger they’d given the pub hadn’t diminished.
When he went to Haze after leaving the basement, Haze was busy painting in his room, as usual. His room, done in purple for his name, Purple Haze, was always filled with paintings either finished, just started or in some part of still being painted.
“Hey, Haze, I gotta talk to you.”
“Yeah?” he asked as he set down his brush and turned on the stool. His big brown eyes were tired, as he’d likely been up half the night painting. “This about your new fella?”
“What?” he asked, surprised, then realized that Abs had already spread the word. “He told you.”
“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”
“If I can talk him into staying, I would like to give him my room for now, until I can help him save the money for a place of his own. Can I bunk with you?”
“Sure. If you can stand the smell of paint and paint thinner.”
Goldie nodded. “Thanks.”
