The Dangerous Lives of Renter Boys

How\'s it going? Good? Well, that\'s good.

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Now that Finn and I have thoroughly shocked our dearest Yuri, we have business to get up to. When I said before that the day is no use to us, I was fibbing just a mite. In fact, our true vocation, the one that makes us most of our money, happens between sunrise and the twilight hour.

I\'m speaking, of course, of blackmail. There is nothing sweeter than making a client shell out a bundle of extra cash to keep us away from giving away his dirty little secret.

Wait a minute. I see your raised eyebrows, your look of disgust at my greed. But I\'ll have you know that Warwick pays us but a pittance. Without the extra income, we would starve to death. We wouldn't have a roof over our heads. We might actually have to beg on the street like the common rabble.

And besides, it\'s jolly good fun as well. And if the men are dim enough to write us fluffy, extravagant letters and actually sign them, they deserve what they get. Hear me, your neighborhood rent is a selfish, bloodsucking rascal in an angelic-boy disguise. You have been warned.

\"Where are we goin\' today?\" Finn\'s voice is muffled. He\'s hunting under his bed for something. Eureka. His right shoe.

\"Well, my dear friend, we are going to pay a little visit to a Mr...\" I pull an crumpled envelope out of the inside pocket of my vest, and tug a sheet of expensive stationary out of it, scanning to the bottom of the flowery script, \"..a Mr. Garrick. Bettany Street. Do you believe that he actually put his address at the bottom.\" I tuck it back in the pocket safely.

\"What a sod! An invitation for us if I ever did see one!\" Slightly evil laughter. He\'s trying to knot his tie without the benefit of a mirror. I roll my eyes and push his hands away, doing it for him. He never manages to get it straight.

\"What does \'e say about you in this letter anyway?\" The tie is done, and he pinches my cheek before I can slap him away. \"Skin like porcelain?! Eyes like emeralds?!\" He snickers at me, hiding teeth behind one hand.

\"You left out \'lips like dewy roses.\'\" I snicker back. \"And \'hair like gossamer thread.\'\"

\"God. \'E really is a sod then.\" I pretend to be offended, arms crossed.

\"Am I coming?\" Yuri speaks up, looking at us as if we are mildly insane.

Finn and I exchange glances, mentally discussing his bruised face. Finn nods imperceptibly and I shrug noncommittally.

\"Yes.\" Finn makes an executive decision. \"Let me clean you up first.\" He grabs a rag and dips it in the washbasin in the corner and goes to work on Yuri\'s face, ever gentle. He cleans off the bits of crusted blood around the edges of the nose, pressing at the swelling around the right eye. He shrugs helplessly at me. Yuri is not a very pretty sight, but nothing more can be done right now.

And so we set off. Bettany Street is quite a jaunt from our little hovel, but the clouds have dissipated a bit and the sun is shining, albeit somewhat bleakly. We get a few stares at first, in our vests and tailed coats, but as we got closer to our destination we began to blend more and more into the increasing prosperity of the surroundings.

The house we want is a large one, set off the street, with a wide lawn. Fronted with two huge windows filled with a fortune\'s worth of glass, the place smacks of old money. Goody.We dWe don\'t hesitate, strutting up the porch stairs as if invited guests, Yuri book-ended between Finn and I. Finny grasps the heavy brass knocker and thumps three times.

The girl who opens the door cannot be more than sixteen. The maid. She has a small child propped on her hip, one hand holding its bottom securely, the other clutching a feather duster. She looks rather frazzled. The child (of which I cannot tell the sex) stares wide-eyed at us, three quite mysterious intruders into the humdrum of its life.

\"\'Ello, love.\" I beam my most friendly-evil grin at her, setting a foot subtly against the doorjamb so that it cannot possibly be slammed in our faces. \"We\'re looking for Mr. Garrick. Is \'e \'ere?\" She looks positively petrified.

\"Who are you?\" A small voice, from the shadows beyond the door. But the speaker steps into the light, out into the foyer of polished wood floor in front of the door. Another child, this one five or six. Again, I cannot determine whether it is a boy or girl through bowl-cut, tawny curls and sweet, high voice. I cannot, for the life of me, fathom all these androgynous children.

\"Who are we?! Who are you?!\" Finn is good with children, being a buffoon and all. He is already crouched down, much to the chagrin of the maid. I half expect she thinks Finn is going to kidnap the young\'un.

\"I\'m Robert Garrick the Third.\" Matter of fact voice, a name learnt by wrote.

\"Then I expect you are Robert Garrick the Second\'s darling son. And..\" He straightened up, \"..we \'ave some business with your dear papa.\" The end of the sentence aimed more at the serving-girl than the little boy. Finn looks directly at the quivering little thing.

\"\'E\'s...not \'ere. \'E\'s out\" She is obviously lying.

\"\'E is too. \'E\'s in the study.\" This pops out of the little Robert before he can be silenced, with a finger pointed in the general direction of the upstairs.

\"Thank you, young sir. You\'ve been most helpful.\" Finn holds out a wrapped candy, a toffee, that had been magically concealed in his jacket somewhere. The boy takes it with a giggle and scuttles off to some recess of the grand house.

We breeze past the girl. She is rather inconsequential in the matter, to be honest. The stairs lead to a long wide hallway, furnished with repulsively expensive and tacky Turkish carpeting. We find the study, and Mr. Garrick, near the end.

I peek my head around the entrance, knocking softly on the half-open, burnished door.

\"Remember me?\" I smile as he looks up from his desk and papers, dropping his pen with a dull thud as he recognizes me. He\'s a tall man, heavy-built with clumsy, fumbling hands and a graying, balding head.

\"What..what are you doing \'ere?\"

\"You mean what are we doing \'ere?\" The other two strut into the room with me, the picture of confidence and menace. Really, there are butterflies in my stomach, a slight shake in my hands. But appearance is everything in these matters, and we look as cocky as anything.n Yun Yuri looks rather devilish.

\"Well..\" I sit on the corner of his desk, one leg swinging, my body just close enough to him to be aggravating. I pull the tattered enveloped from inside my jacket. Slowly, taking my time, I unfold the letter and give it the once-over. \"I \'ave an interestin\' bit of correspondence right \'ere, and I was thinking to meself that I might just take the notion to show it to someone in particular. Where is your dear wife, by the way?\"

\"Oh god.\" His face is ashen. He looks from me to Finny to Yuri. They simply smile sweetly at him, lounging in the leather chairs opposite his desk. \"You wouldn't.\"

\"I dunno.\" I bite my lower lip, mocking indecision.

\"Please! I\'ll be ruined..god, you simply cannot!\" He is so pitiful. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

\"It seems to me..\" Garrick\'s frightened, frantic eyes dart towards Finny who was now speaking. \"..that that letter might be worth a little bit of cash to the concerned party.\" His eyes are almost slits.

\"Yes!\" I gesture almost ferociously in his direction, holding up a finger in agreement. I look back at my darling captive Garrick. \"My friend may just be correct.\"

\"Yes!\" He nods earnestly. \"Yes, I think that would be a safe assumption.\"

\"But the real question is, how much?\" Expectant purse of my lips.

\"Fifty pounds?\" He sounds unsure, tentative.

\"Fifty?! Be reasonable. I\'m sure your wife would desperately like to see this letter.\"

\"Or your friends.\" Sweet amazing grace, Yuri actually speaks.

\"Or even the papers!\" Finn butts in gleefully, almost on top of the desk in his uncontained excitement.

\"Yes, can you see the headlines? \'Upstanding businessman Robert ick ick caught gallivanting with local boys-for-rent\'? What scandal that would be!\" I am so malicious.

Garrick is ours now, totally and indisputably. He looks about to jump out the window.

\"Whatever you want. Any amount. I swear! Just give me my letter!\"

In the end, we leave with a hundred pounds, tucked neatly into my jacket pocket. Easy as that! What fun!

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TBC. Thanks for reading. xo.