Mason's bar was halfway down the north side of the main street's collection of businesses. Starting from there, Cory made his way to the end then crossed and worked his way back up the other side. In the process, he checked out two gift shops run by older women. At least that's how he saw them although they were probably only in their mid forties. Both of them were polite, the way they'd be with any tourist, until he told them he was living with Ollie. Then they became quite friendly, pumping him for information on who he was and why he had moved to Rain Park. He told them an abbreviated version of the truth, omitting the worst parts. "I ended up here, met Mason, he offered me a job, and Ollie's letting me stay with him in exchange for my helping around his place."

"You couldn't have met two better men," one of the women said. "Well, other than my husband but then I'm prejudiced."

He also checked out the small clothing store -- inaptly named in his opinion, 'Nichole's Fine Clothing' considering everything was pretty utilitarian -- two of the restaurants, and finally John's garage, purposely avoiding the grocery store. No sense in taking a chance Mr. Ellis might remember me and put two-and-two together.

John greeted him effusively, immediately showing him around while introducing him to the two men who worked for him.

"I've seen you before, somewhere," Harley, a burly man in grease-stained coveralls, said. He thought a moment. "Yeah, going through some of the trash cans a couple weeks ago all sneaky like."

Cory sucked in a breath, admitting it was possible. "I'm homeless so I was scrounging for anything edible."

"Was homeless," John put in. "Now he's living with Ollie."

"He trusts some fucking punk --" Harley sneered as he raked his gaze over Cory, "-- some punk faggot kid from the look of him, that he doesn't know?"

"Enough of that," John said sharply. "Cory got himself out of an abusive situation and did the best he could to survive. If he had to dig food out of the trash, at least if kept him from starving."

"Yeah, okay, got it." The man shot Cory a look of pure dislike before going back to what he'd been doing.

"Guess I should have expected that would happen sometime," Cory said as he and John went into John's office.

"Like we were talking about, back at the bar, most of the folks around here a good people and pretty open-minded. Some aren't and Harley's one of them. Damned good mechanic, though, which is why I keep him around."

"Believe me; I'm used to being hated on. Happened a lot down in the city. I'll deal and just keep out of his way."

"Probably for the best."

Cory agreed. "I should get back to Ollie's to help make supper."

"It's that late? Guess it is. Feel free to stop by again any time."

"I will." Cory wasn't certain he would though, if it meant running into Harley.

John clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Harley had his say. Now he'll ignore you if you ignore him."

"Okay, that I can deal with." Not that Cory believed it. Harley had the attitude of a lot of bullies he'd run into, including his father, which was that anyone who wasn't obviously 'masculine' was fair game.

Twenty minutes later, Cory was telling Ollie about his afternoon while they made supper.

"I'm glad you decided to tell the truth about yourself," Ollie said when he finished. "It's better that way. Lies have a way of catching up with you."

Cory took a deep breath then said, knowing he could trust Ollie, "Cory isn't my real name."

"Figured as much. You don't have to tell me what it is. As far as I'm concerned you are and always will be Cory."

"Thank you."

They talked of inconsequential things while eating, and then Cory took off for his first night as the busboy, or so he thought of it, at the bar.