By Grayce Connors
"Hey Grayce, what time you think you're gonna be through here? I'm just about ready to blow this popsicle stand."
Mike Kerrigan, my co-worker, roommate and best friend stands there looking up at me and I begin tossing down a set of law books from the top shelf of the library. He catches each one expertly, arranging them neatly on a table.
"I'm not sure Mike. I got a whole list of stuff I'm still trying to find and the last of my deliveries to do."
"How's about I give you a hand?"
"Ha! No, thanks. Last time I sent you downstairs to find stuff for me I caught you having a little class action with that paralegal bimbo."
Mike smiles at the recollection. "Shit. I swear I thought the place was empty! I'm just glad it was you that walked in and not Harnick."
I climb down the ladder and roll it to the next shelf. "Me too. Had you been fired I'd have to take the "L" to work."
He laughs. "Aw gee, thanks asshole. I'm touched."
"Be a good boy and start tossing me that stack right over there will 'ya?"
He tosses up a particularly large volume a little too close to my head to be an accident. "Look, Gray-boy, I want to get out of here so's we can have enough time to grab a few beers before the party. You know Harnicks' idea of a great bar is three different kinds of cheap wine. I'd rather drop trou, piss in my glass and drink it than have that boxed shit he brings."
"Now there's a party trick I'd pay to see."
"Any excuse to see my dick, huh Grayce? How'd I ever get stuck with a fag like you for a best friend?"
"Hey you�re the one that asked me to move in with you. I have witnesses that will testify to that. Besides, you knew I was gay before we even became friends so I'm dismissing your case. Now do me a favor and get the fuck out of here. Every time you try to help me it takes me twice as long. I'll meet you at Rocks in half an hour.
"O.K. but hurry up will 'ya? You know I hate to drink alone."
He exits down the back stairs, obliviously knocking over a huge pile of volumes by the door. I smile to myself knowing full well that he�ll be chatting up some babe over a half-pint of Guinness inside of three minutes.
Normally, a fellow employee or two can be found around here after five p.m. but everyone has left early to go home and change. Our boss Sheldon Harnick is throwing a big party tonight to welcome a new partner to the firm. Those who live too far away for the commute got together and rented a suite for the night at the Palmer House and undoubtedly have already begun their own party.
I roll my cart into the service elevator and go down a floor to the attorney�s offices. For the first time since grade school, I�m forced to confront my phobia about being left in buildings alone. The various office machines make their intermittent noises sometimes convincing me that there may be someone else here after all but, each time I look out into the hall to check, I�m always wrong.
I wander through each office dropping off requested volumes and picking up the materials they�ve finished with. With four partners and twenty associates, my cart becomes overloaded in no time. My last stop is the new partner, Kerry Dean, whose name I�ve just learned from the freshly installed plaque on his door. I go into his office more out of curiosity than necessity since he hasn�t been here long enough to request my services yet. Next to his desk, on the floor, I notice a box of personal things with a large frame sticking out of it and I carefully pull it out. A typical blonde haired, blue eyed, preppy jock stares back from the photo with a typical blonde, big-haired, green eyed girlfriend standing behind him with the typical one-hand-on-his-shoulder pose showing off her typical engagement ring. �She needs to have her typical roots done� I think to myself.
�Hey how �ya doin? I�m Kerry Dean.�
I nearly pass out from the shock of his sudden entrance.
�Yeah, I know what you�re thinking pal, but you�re too late. She�s all mine.� He says as he takes the picture from me, places it on his desk and offers his hand for me to shake. His hands are unbelievably soft, his grip inspiring the requisite manly confidence.
�Welcome to the firm Mr. Dean. I�m Grayce Connors. I�m the law librarian here. I was just thinking what a lucky guy you are.� Yeah, right�
�Hey, you don�t have to tell me buddy. Call me Kerry. Mr. Dean�s my father.� He laughs heartily at the joke as though I had never heard it before. He pulls out a suit bag from behind the door and begins to strip off his shirt and tie. �What kind of name is Grace for a boy? Was your mom like one of those free love sixties hippies?
�Actually, she�s President of Research and Development at Dow Chemical. She discovered the formula for hot glue.�
�Really? Oh how fascinating.� Kerry replies almost too politely. He unashamedly shucks his pinstripe wool pants and his answer to the boxer/briefs dilemma becomes apparent as his hefty cock and balls swing free in the climate-controlled breeze.
