Interrupting his speech was the opening of the elevator door, out through which staggered an older white man carrying a bottle in a brown paper bag who mumbled something incoherent as he passed.

Giving the man a professional smile, Lyle pushed Keon into the small room and tapped the button to take them down. As the car began its slow descent Keon turned his chair to face the door while Lyle stepped gingerly around the garbage surrounding his feet to make room for himself.

“Anyway,” Lyle continued, his eye on something on the floor on the other side of the car that looked like it may have been alive at one time, “it really strikes us as odd when something comes along with no strings attached. And that’s me; no strings. Well, just a string of friendship,” he said, thrusting his hands into his jeans pockets to disguise the arousal that would soon become obvious as he continued to gaze upon Keon. “Besides, we all need as many…” he began before his thought process was interrupted by the elevator shuddering to an unexpected stop with the door remaining closed.

Glancing at the number above them which remained on ‘6’, and then to the control panel on the wall whose buttons contained only dark numbers, Lyle sighed and punched the Lobby button again. “Hmm. Houston, we have a problem,” he joked and pressed against the button a third time with the same lack of results.

“That happens sometimes. It just quits,” Keon told him calmly.

“Yeah?” Lyle remarked as his eyes panned across all the garbage and dried vomit on the floor. “I guess I wouldn’t mind so much if it were clean enough in here that we could maybe have a picnic or something. So, what happens when this thing just quits? Do we tunnel our way out, or…” he began as his eyes fell back upon the control panel. “Ah. Well, seeing as how I left my shovel and jackhammer in my other pants I suppose this’ll be just as effective.” Reaching out again Lyle pushed the button with ALARM written beside it and braced himself for the obnoxious bell that would indicate their predicament. Nothing happened, so he punched it again, harder. Still nothing.

“I will assume I just hailed the fire department… twice,” he told Keon with an embarrassed smile. He then leaned against the wall. “So, I guess we wait.”

“Yeah,” Keon agreed unemotionally.

“Oh, wait a minute,” Lyle suddenly said and dug into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. “Duh.” While he made the 911 call, he kept an eye on Keon who sat quietly.

Towards the middle of his call, Lyle saw Keon glance up at him and as their eyes met Lyle felt another unintentional stirring in his groin. This, in turn, bolstered Lyle’s desire for Keon even more, causing him to quickly look away lest his eyes betray him. He wanted Keon in the worse way, and yet he did not want Keon to know that he wanted him.

Ending the call the phone was folded up. “The cavalry is on the way.” Lyle patted Keon’s shoulder with a smile, pocketing his phone. “At least we still have lights.”

This having been said, the lights obediently extinguished themselves, plunging the two men into complete darkness. “Yeah… I had to open my big fat mouth,” Lyle admonishing himself out loud in his inimitable light-hearted way. “Well now, this is inconvenient. Don’t’cha hate when this happens?” Reaching out blindly he located what he assumed to be Keon’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, relishing the touch. “You doing okay there, partner?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“You’re not afraid of the dark or claustrophobic or anything like that, are you?”

“No.”

“Okay. It won’t be too much longer. If I had my utility belt I’d at least have a flashlight. So much for being prepared, eh?” Feeling that he had done all he could do at the moment Lyle leaned back against the wall again and exhaled. “I would kill for a cup of coffee right now. I don’t suppose the coffee vending machine in this four-star restaurant is plugged in. Nah, probably not. Too dark to find the plug anyway so I guess I’m out of luck. Say, do you like Chinese food?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t suppose they’d deliver Chinese take-out to a broken down elevator if we called, do you?”

“No.” Keon chuckled.

“No, I guess not. It was just a thought. You know, that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh. Wish the lights were on so I could have seen it. I’ll bet you have a nice smile.”

Keon was silent; a silence Lyle took to be embarrassment.

“Think if we rifled through the garbage in here we could find a pool table? A good game would help pass the time,” Lyle commented, eliciting another chuckle from his new friend in the wheelchair beside him. “So tell me more about you, my friend. What makes you tick? What are your dreams and aspirations?”

“I don’t have any dreams, other than to make it to tomorrow.”

“Don’t you dream of getting out of this place and into a house of your own?”

“No, not really.”

“Why not?” Lyle asked with a fair degree of concern peppering his voice.

“Because I know it isn’t going to happen,” Keon said softly. Sadly.

“Hey, come on, anything can happen. Your life’s not over yet. In fact, it’s only begun. You got derailed momentarily but you can still get back on track again, to use every railroad metaphor I can think of. Okay, say the door opened and somebody handed you a thousand dollars. What would you do with it?”

“Get some food,” Keon admitted without hesitation.

“Food? Not booze or drugs?”

“I don’t do that.”

Relieved to have his suspicions finally validated, Lyle said, “Y’know, I don’t know why I said that because I already knew you didn’t engage in that sort of self-destructive behavior. In my line of business you train yourself to spot the alcoholics and junkies a mile away and that look was missing in your eyes. Matter of fact, the minute I saw you the other night I knew you were different. You struck me as being a round peg in a square hole. You just didn’t fit here, and the fact that you didn’t turn to any alternate means of stimulation to get you through the bad times says a lot about your character and strength.”

The little metal car grew quiet and Lyle feared that he had maybe said too much, so he again extended his hand, located Keon’s shoulder and gave it another gentle squeeze while again being stimulated by the touch.

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

“No,” Keon said quietly, almost timidly.

“Oooooh, you’re bluuuuushiiiing,” he teased. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“No, I’m…”

“Oh, wait, I’m the one blushing. Sorry, my mistake. Look, kiddo, I didn’t mean to say anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, and if I did then I apologize.”

“You didn’t,” Keon assured the man.

“Ew,” Lyle suddenly complained softly, breaking the silence. “I hope what I just stepped in wasn’t what it felt like. I don’t mind telling you…” he began before his complaint was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He quickly fished it out of his pocket and held it to his ear. “This is Lyle… Randy? Yeah, it’s me… Oooookay, laugh. Enjoy it… Yeah, you’re gonna get a lot of mileage out of this for years to come, aren’t you… Yes, we are… Two of us… That’s right… No, no power at all. Lights, TV, hot tub; everything’s off … We’re fine, but we’re having trouble finishing our tennis match in the dark here…”

Another chuckle escaped from Keon to which Lyle once more gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, okay, but let us down gently. I don’t want to spill my martini.” He laughed and folded up the phone, again slipping it into his pocket. “They’re gonna lower this crate manually as soon as they figure out how.”

Selected text copyright 2009 by Timothy Lee