Mitchell's Presence Read Free Page B

him as it did to whomever’s hand was empty. Arthur was convinced that Mitchell would be broke before the end of every month if he did this every day. No wonder he works two jobs.
    They made it to the small café and took a table in the corner, Arthur sitting, as was his habit, with his back to the crowd. Mitchell took the initiative, asked for Arthur’s order, and walked to the counter. Arthur noticed how light and graceful all of Mitchell’s movements were, how Mitchell seemed to offer the same warm, charming, disarming smile to everyone, even to the person who cut in front of him in line. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t really interested in merely trying to bed Mitchell; it made him nervous to realize that he was actually interested in Mitchell’s life.
    “So,” Arthur started, by way of opening the conversation, “why two jobs? You making sure you can pay for all those Christmas presents for friends and family?”
    “No.” Mitchell handed over Arthur’s latte and sat down. “I’ve just got a lot of energy.”
    “You work two jobs, practically all day long,” Arthur asked, astonished, “all year long?”
    “Yes, I do.” Mitchell sipped his hot chocolate, studying Arthur’s stunned expression. “You don’t know anyone else who works two jobs?”
    Arthur shook his head. “No, most people I know can barely handle one job.”
    “Speaking of jobs,” Mitchell folded his arms on the table and smiled up at Arthur, “you know what I do, but you haven’t told me what you do.”
    “Architect.”
    “Wow!” Mitchell’s expression brightened even further. “That must be an incredible feeling, building houses and condos and other buildings that people will use and live in for years and years?”
    Arthur nodded and then tilted his head to one side. “It can be very interesting, yeah. If you’re interested in demanding clients, incompetent co-workers, and marathon late nights fixing everything so the client will be happy.”
    “And, the client being happy, seeing the smile, that doesn’t make it all worth it?”
    “Not as much as cashing the check.”
    Mitchell laughed, and then his expression became  more serious. “Money’s not everything, Arthur.”
    “No, it’s the only thing.” Arthur deadpanned, noticing that Mitchell did not find it funny. “Yes, it gives me satisfaction to be able to please the clients.”
    “Satisfaction?” Mitchell raised an eyebrow and smiled warmly, indicating his playful mocking.
    “What about you, Mitchell?” Arthur sipped his latte, leaning back in his chair, wondering how long it would take him to get Mitchell to admit that he hated dealing with customers. “You love helping all of the slobs and cheapskates in the restaurant, not to mention all of the holiday shoppers who expect you to do their shopping for them?”
    “Of course,” Mitchell’s lips curved into a slight smile as he peered at Arthur from under his lashes, “you never know who you might meet.”
    “Okay, okay.” Arthur held up his hands. “You win. And thank you.”
    “It’s easy to find what you don’t like in life, Arthur.” Mitchell reached over and touched Arthur’s hand, briefly. “I like the challenge of finding the beautiful or the fascinating in something… or someone,” Mitchell whispered, leaning forward, “that others see as worthless.”
    “And giving away all your spare change to beggars?” Arthur moved his leg, accidentally brushing against Mitchell’s under the table, feeling Mitchell pull his leg back.
    “Makes me smile.”
    “Even though they’ll be spending it on booze or drugs?”
    “Not every person will.”
    Arthur snorted derisively “Isn’t that a little naïve, Mitchell?” He folded his arms across his chest, expecting but not wanting a heated discussion about street people.
    “I’m okay with being naïve, Arthur.” Mitchell smiled sadly and finished his hot chocolate. Arthur got the feeling that the sad smile was because of his