Gregory Templin had hoped to leave work at a decent hour. However, his chances diminished rapidly, as the bill continued to rest in front of Greg's last and only customer. He wondered why, at the age of twenty-six, he still had to endure working such late hours as a waiter; subject to the whims of customers, who often pay paltry tips.

      As Greg reentered the restaurant kitchen, his hazel eyes flashed an angry look of disgust toward his coworker, Dolores.

      "He still ain't paid?!" She did not look up, engrossed in categorizing her receipts for the night.

      "No!" Greg ran his fingers restlessly through his dark hair. "I dropped the check at least an hour ago. I've asked him several times if he wanted anything else - but he still won't pay! Now I won't even make it out of here by one am! He just sits there... staring... as if he's waiting for someone."

      "Yeah, he's weird." Even though she had lived in Ohio many years, her voice still carried a slight Puerto Rican accent. "He's got that backpack. Maybe he just got off work and he used it for his change of clothes."

      "Maybe so. And now that he's off work he's waiting here for a ride. But he looks young, like he's still in high school."

      "I know, but that don't mean he don't have a job." Dolores looked out toward the dining room. "His hair is pretty short, but he's got way too much gel lathered on. He's cute for a kid, though. He's got real sad eyes."

      "His eyes remind me of Robert Mitchum's eyes; kind of set back, with puffy eyelids."

      "Who?"

      "Robert Mitchum, he was in that one movie with Marilyn Monroe, 'Big River'." He thought that if he referenced the actor with another big name, Dolores might catch on.

      "Oh... yeah." She rolled her eyes. "I don't get in to old movies."

      "Rrggh! I want to go home! I'm going to try again to get him to pay. I'll be more forceful this time."

      "Ok, go get 'em! I'm goin' in the back for a smoke, sweetie."

      Greg purposely walked the long way around the dining room, in order to come up on his customer from the other direction. He wanted to see his face as he approached the table. At times like these, Greg felt like a hunter in pursuit; sizing up his prey, figuring how he might outsmart him, and succeed in bagging his catch... his money. As he slowly neared his quarry, he could see there was still no money down. The boy continued to stare off in the distance, transfixed like a deer caught in headlights.

      "Did you need anything else," Greg asked as he reached the table, "a refill on your drink, anything?" Greg agreed with Dolores. He was cute. The boy's hair was short, almost buzzed, with just enough in front to spike up. His skin was hardly tanned. To Greg he looked young, certainly no older than eighteen.

      The boy jerked his head up, startled by Greg's arrival. His blue eyes clouded with sadness and possibly fear. The boy appeared to Greg as though he might explode at any moment. He seemed to be rattled, trying to keep his emotions in check. A distant "umm" was all the boy's vocal chords mustered in response.

      Greg wondered if there was something seriously wrong with his patron. He looked as though he might soon have a complete mental breakdown. Greg began to feel sorry for this pathetic creature. "Is... Is there something wrong?"

      The boy barely reacted to the question. He rested his brow into his hands and rubbed his eyes, as if to wipe away all of his hurt.

      Greg considered putting his hand on the boy's shoulder to comfort him, but he feared that the boy might view such a move as too aggressive. Instead he crouched down so his face was level with the boy's. He asked more insistently. "Are you all right?"

      "Yes, I'm fine!" He shouted as if he were trying to convince himself as well. Greg leaned back a bit, in response to the outburst.

      The boy looked toward Greg. "I..." The boy looked timid for a moment, then quickly regained his defensive stance. "What do you care?!" He asked defiantly.

      "Well, I'm not sure exactly. I mean you look like you at least need to talk. And unless you're waiting for someone, I'm the only one here right now. Besides I can't leave till you pay the bill." Greg laughed uncomfortably, hoping to lighten the mood, or at least give boy a hint.

      After a brief silence, the boy replied in a soft voice, "I'm not waiting for anyone."

      Greg moved to the adjacent seat. "Well, you already know my name is Greg." He pointed to his nametag. "What's your name?"

      "Tyler."

      "Why don't you go home, Tyler?" Greg half expected the next answer.

      "I can't. I was thrown out by my parents." Tears swelled in Tyler's eyes. "I don't know what to do."

      "Do you have friends to go to?"

      Tyler shook his head slowly, looking down toward the table.

      Out of the corner of his eye, Greg spotted Dolores, pointing anxiously at her watch. "Why'd they throw you out?"

      Tyler's silence made Greg shiver. He still averted Greg's eyes. "C'mon, Tyler..." Greg said soothingly. "I know I may be a stranger, but..." Greg's words were cut short.

      "Cause they think I'm gay! OK?!"

      Greg did not think it was the right time to acknowledge he was also gay. He instead decided to take a chance and help him. "Let me call my roommate. I have a futon in the living room that you can sleep on, at least tonight."

      "But..."

      "But what? Don't worry, Tyler, I want to help."

      "I... I guess... thank you." Tyler had no idea what else to say. His day had already been too emotional and he was drained. He had little choice but to accept the offer. It was either that or sleep in the street.

      Greg stood up. "Wait here. I'll call my roommate. OK?"

      Tyler nodded.

      Greg walked back toward the kitchen. He had no idea if he was making a mistake. Greg purposely made a point of calling his roommate, so that his whereabouts would be known. He felt sorry for Tyler, but he was cautious. Bringing home a stranger was not the safest thing for a gay man to do. Besides, he did not want his roommate to groggily discover a stranger in the living room first thing in the morning.