The Men of Manhattan

1

     The late autumn sun rose from the horizon and hung there. Although, not for too long. Eventually it hid through the dust of the sky, meekly. Martin Bosco swore as it did, for it had been much too gray these past few days. Nevertheless, it was autumn and autumn skies are sure to be gray.
Martin sat on the bottom step outside of the apartment complex where he lived as a shiny black Oldsmobile rolled out in front of him. Inside was his dearest friend, Henry Osborne.
     "H-hey, Marty!" He shouted as if he were miles away.
"Hey Henry! Thanks fer pickin' me up— I know I mentioned this before but, ah, I coulda taken a taxi, y'know."
"Aw, ya could've, ya could've but why not drive with yer ol' pal Hen, huh? It'll give us time ta talk."
Martin laughed "you're trying to avoid another appointment with Mrs. Ruthberg, aren't you?"
"Tsk, I'll reschedule it, I'll reschedule it!"
"What a shame, you're just trying to kill Mr. Ruthberg, aren't you?" The two began to chuckle as Henry sped down the street.
     "Y'know, sometimes it's a drag, psychology— having to hear problems all day."
"Then why'd you go into it?"
"Oh, you know! The human mind fascinates me and—"
"It pays well."
"Ah, shaddap, Martin. Yer too smart fer yer own good." 
Martin chuckled then spoke,
"Thanks for driving me to this interview, Hen."
"No problem."
"You know, I really wish I hadn't been fired..."
"No one really wants to be fired, Mart."
"I know, but it's just that the way I went was so humiliating..." Martin sighed.
"Aw, no— stop, don't start with that rumination again, alright? That's the kind of thinking that made you go bezerk two nights ago."
"Yeah, I guess you're right, you are the quack after all."
"I guess I am." Henry gave a friendly pat Martin's shoulder.
"Hen?"
"Yes, Mart?"
"You really think they'll let me in?"
     "Mart... Of course they will! You're a real nice guy— real smart."
     "Thanks, but... what if rumor goes out that I...ya know... that I-I tried to kiss that guy... that I'm a pervert?"
"Don't be ridiculous, no one's going to say anything, and if word goes around most will only take it as a false rumor."
"Ya think so?"
"I'm sure of it."
Martin smiled and playfully said, "Ya wouldn't tell anyone about that kiss we shared yesterday, hm?"
"Oh, I wouldn't tell..." The two men found themselves in a dirty street full of tenements when Martin suggested they stop the car in one of the alleyways. 
"You could be late, y'know."
"Nah... there's enough time."
"Alright."
      Henry stopped the car near a dark alleyway and swiftly kissed Martin's gaping mouth. Martin could feel his heart flutter when they sat there hidden inside the shadows, lip to lip. Henry immediately pulled away after no more than a minute.
"Henny... why don't you kiss me for a little longer, hm?" Martin flirtatiously cooed and kissed his pale cheek. Henry shook his head and quickly swerved the car back on to the road. "No. It's too risky. A copper could come by any moment in a crime-ridden area like this." Henry stated in a frantic voice he tried to disguise as calm. Martin suddenly had a bad feeling rising in the pit of his stomach. "Hen... are you okay?" Martin meekly asked, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. Henry fidgeted to the touch and replied,
"Yes, I'm fine."
      Martin knew his dear was not fine, yet he kept his mouth shut. Even for someone who was a psychologist and encouraged people to let out their thoughts and feelings, Henry was somehow tough to crack.
     He pulled up to the 5 story brown brick building. Martin got out of the car with nothing to say but "thank you" and "goodbye."

The interview was a success, he would arrive as a writer for The Evening Tribune the next morning, which was a rival newspaper publication to the Daily Insight, the paper he used to work for.
     He strode out of the building with a smile. Before waving down a taxi, the first thing he thought of was to find the nearest phone booth and call up his dearest companion.
     "He—llo Mr. Osborne?.." Martin sang in a hearty Trans-Atlantic accent.
"Marty, Mah boy! How was it? I'm guessing you got the job?"
"Indeed! Indeed I did, Mr. Osborne."
"Marvelous, simply marvelous!"
Marty went back to his usual tame New York accent. "Mind if I stop by for a little while?"
"Of course. Tell me all about it."
"Thanks, Hen. I... I love you."
Martin could hear nothing but a nervous laugh on the other end. Then Henry hung up his phone. Marty was bewildered and confused. Did Henry simply not know how to respond to the words, "I love you?" He shook his head to the thought, maybe Henry had just misheard him— he did say it under his breath, after all.