Lake on the Mountain. Jeffrey Round
about?”
“You legal?” Dan asked.
“I got ID,” the kid said, puffing up his scrawny frame.
Dan resisted the urge to laugh. “I just wondered if we could go into a bar to talk.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You a cop?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go.” The boy led the way.
They wandered into Zelda’s — probably the only trailer park–themed restaurant in the country. At the door, Loretta Lynn’s transsexual cousin met them in a red-and-white gingham dress with a large bow on the back. She showed them to a table before flouncing away to feed her flock.
The boy eyed Dan. “What’d you want to talk about?”
“What’s your name?”
The eyes narrowed. “Grady.”
“Hi, Grady. Mine’s Dan.”
They shook. The boy smiled. This might be going somewhere after all.
“What are you drinking, Grady?”
The boy cocked his head as though it were an odd question. “Whatever.”
Dan handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Go get yourself a whatever and keep the change. But make sure you come back and talk to me, right?”
The boy walked off to the bar. Dan didn’t bother to watch. He knew the kid would be back. He was the only source of available cash at the moment.
Grady came back with a local beer, bill still in hand. “You said I could keep the change, right?”
Dan nodded. Smart boy, he thought. “It’s yours.”
The boy sat next to him and leaned in close enough for Dan to smell his body odour. Pungent, but it had an appeal. He rubbed his knee against Dan’s. “So what do you wanna know?”
Dan fished out the photograph of Richard Philips. “I’m looking for this kid,” he said.
The boy took the photograph and scrutinized it. Dan saw something in his face when he looked up. “He in trouble?” Grady said.
“He’s not in trouble for anything he’s done, but he might be in trouble wherever he’s headed. I’m trying to find him to see if he needs help. I’m not asking you to rat on him.”
The boy nodded and looked back at the photograph, running his tongue over his lower lip.
“His name’s Richard,” Dan said. “If that helps.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe it was. His name’s Lester now.” The boy grinned. “If that helps.”
Dan handed over another ten. “It helps a lot. Do you know where he is or where he might work?”
Grady pocketed the bill. “You sure you’re not a cop?” he said, eying Dan squarely.
“No. I’m not a cop. And the boy’s not in trouble, as I said.”
“’Kay,” the kid said. “I don’t wanna rat on anybody. So yeah, I know a bit about Lester.”
“How do you know him?” Dan asked.
Grady took a long drink and set the bottle down with a satisfied sigh. He looked around the bar as though afraid of being overheard, but his volume increased rather than diminished. It was probably how he advertised, Dan realized.
“We worked together — not long ago.”
Dan nodded. “On the street?”
The boy shook his head impatiently, anxious to disabuse the idea. “We did a flick. A porno. All good-looking young guys,” he said, as though to distinguish it from the ignominy of being in a film with old trolls. He took another long swig from the beer. It was two-thirds empty now.
This time Dan held out a twenty. “Where?”
The boy clutched the bill and drew it slowly through Dan’s fingers. “Place out on Danforth.”
“Name? Address?”
“I really don’t remember the number,” the boy said. “But it’s across from the Canadian Tire. Moonlight Cinema or some shit like that on the door.”
“Thank you,” Dan said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
The boy was watching him carefully. “There’s more,” he said.
Dan waited. “I’m out of cash,” he said.
“Why don’t we go to your place? No charge.” He rubbed Dan’s thigh, letting his fingers slide up to his crotch. “You look tough, but I can tell you wouldn’t hurt me. I know guys.”
“I’ve got a son at home who’s not much younger than you.”
The kid withdrew his hand. “You’re not straight though,” he said, shaking his head. “I can tell.”
Dan shook his head. “No, I’m not.”
“But you think it would be weird to sleep with someone who reminds you of your son?”
“Something like that,” Dan said. The kid was sharp.
“Too bad,” the boy said, pushing back his chair. “Even soft I can tell you got a nice dick.”
“So what else do you know?”
Grady nodded and looked around, as though taking stock of his prospects for later. The bar was dismal. He turned back to Dan. “They called me for a sequel,” he said. “For a couple weeks from now.”
“You going to be in it?” Dan asked.
The boy cocked his head. “Can’t,” he said. “I’ve got a date with this rich guy from Montreal. He’s taking me to Cuba.”
Lucky you, Dan thought. Turning down a starring role in a film for a private performance. He wrote down the details, wondering if Lester was really the boy he was looking for or if Grady had told him anything remotely like the truth. His gut said yes. They shook hands again and Dan wished him luck.
Outside, the street was filling with the usual mid-week crowd. Cars slid past. The air was fine. It would be busy soon, another prime evening on the strip. Dan wouldn’t be sorry to miss it.
On the way home, he swung by the place Grady mentioned. He found the production house above a fruit and vegetable shop in a row of dreary two-storey buildings across from the inverted orange carrot of the Canadian Tire logo. An arc of light beamed above the door, a lone moth drawn to its promised glitter, the fool’s gold of the insect world.
From outside, Moonlight Cinemas looked like a regular business: a place that videotaped weddings and bar mitzvahs and put its trash out on the street along with the other businesses. There was even a plastic plaque over the door. Then again, Dan thought, why shouldn’t it be? Unless someone nabbed them for using underage models.
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