All fingers and thumbs

Now-thirty-five-year-old Wolf Meyer fell in love with the City of Angels as soon as he visited for the first time. He intended to stay for a long weekend after the summer, but he inhaled the beauty of Los Angeles and decided then and there to rent a room for a month.

Three years later and he was still in town, struggling to meet ends meet as a bike courier, sure, but living life in this fascinating and complex city. Beyond the perpetual sunshine, the beaches with flaunting bodies and surfers always in for the perfect waves, palm trees, and movie stars, there were art museums, architecture, parks and gardens, and a mosaic of cultures living side by side in peace in a setting by the sea to die for.

In short, Los Angeles was hot, and he was thrilled to be part of it.

As he rode his bike with caution avoiding cabs and commuters, his mind wandered off to the pooch he'd left behind in his apartment. Brigadier was a stray from a shelter, a brown dachshund with an attitude like a general, hence the name. His first week having a dog had gone by so fast, and now he had to work outside the house, leaving the dog on his own.

That morning, Brigadier had looked at him with such sad eyes Wolf almost laughed out loud.

"No, buddy, daddy has to work and earn some cash, or there will be no food in your bowl."

When he slammed the door, he almost felt guilty.

Hawthorne Boulevard was busy as he maneuvered with speed to be on time at his destination. His first stop was at the office to fetch deliveries; within half an hour, he was back on the saddle again, appreciating the morning sun.

He picked up an enjoyable pace and peddled his first round of the day. His blond half-long hair was moving in the wind, squinting eyes behind dark sunglasses—a hunk on wheels.

Wolf knew he was a good-looking guy, as he found out a year ago when he registered as a male escort at G-E-N-T-L-E_M-E-N-c-a-l-l-e-r-s 0500-3489. He especially was good with older women. Twice a week, he was summoned to an unknown lady with three hours to spend at her beck and call. He liked his evening job, and it paid the extra buck he needed to pay for his vice, going to auctions and bid on something for his book collection.

Life was good.