Title: Ties Stronger Than Blood
Author: Scribe (AKA Fannie Feazell)
Feedback: poet77665@catlover.com
Fandom: The Lost Boys
Pairing: Paul/Dwayne, Marko/David
Status: WIP This is for the Nanowrimo, so it should be finished in a month or less.
Series: The Non-Traditional Families Series
Disclaimer: I did not create and do not own the recognizable Lost Boys characters, and no copyright infringement is intended. I make no profit from this. It is a work of fiction, written strictly for entertainment value, and no profit will be sought, or accepted. Minor characters are the creations of the author, and are copyrighted. This work is in no way meant to indicate the personal life choices of the actors who portrayed the characters. I have nothing but respect and admiration for them. In other words, this never happened, and isn't likely to.
Author notes: Let me state clearly at the offset that Ruth Tallmadge is not a representative of any particular denomination, sect, or individual, or indeed most Christians. She is a created character, who professes Christianity, but embodies the worst traits I have seen in some of the fringe elements of the religion. In my opinions, her views and actions are a perversion of true belief, and such a person will find themselves very surprised when they finally stand before the Throne of Judgment. I have nothing but respect for people who follow the true spirit of Christ's teachings--love, tolerance, grace, and forgiveness.
Notes: Lyrics from New Sensation by INXS. RIP Michael. Lyrics from Are You Washed In the Blood of the Lamb? By Elisha A. Hoffman.
The Non-Traditional Families Series: Ties Stronger Than Blood
By Fannie Feazell
The music was turned up loud, since it had to compete with the rumble of the bus engines, and the whine of tires on asphalt. It was simple music, just piano, but there was a vigor to its cadence that made the casual listener nod their head and tap their feet.
After the brief introduction, a clear tenor voice rose in song.
"Have you been to Jesus for the cleansing power? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?" The tone was true, the timing perfect. "Are you fully trusting in his grace this hour? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb? Are you washed?"
Two more voices, a female alto and a bass, chimed in on the harmony, a beat after he sang the same words. "Are you washed?"
"In the blood..."
"In the blood..."
"Are you washed in the soul cleansing blood of the Lamb?"
All three voices blended. "Are your garments spotless? Are they white as snow? Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?"
Once again the tenor voice rose alone. "When the bridegroom cometh, will your robes be white? Pure and white in the blood..."
"No!" The woman's voice rapped out, sharp and angry. "Luther, turn off that noise, right now!" A small, slender man punched the STOP button on the cassette player he held on his lap, and his eyes went toward the young man who was sitting in the seat across the aisle from him, his gaze sympathetic.
The old bus had been gutted, then refurbished into a touring vehicle. There was a tiny partitioned area in the back with a double bed and barely enough extra room to turn around, and an equally miniscule traveling toilet. There were six pairs of seats, three on each side, facing each other, so that travelers might be able to converse more easily. A woman, who had been sitting several seats back, stood up and made her way toward where they were sitting, her every motion radiating irritation. She glared down at the teenage boy, then crossed her arms and said ominously, "Well?"
His eyes, warm brown, flicked up toward her, but skittered away quickly. She was considered a handsome woman, but right now her features were set into hard lines of disapproval. "I'm sorry, Mother Ruth."
"What are you sorry for, Mark?"
He studied his hands. "I was off key."
Her hand flicked out, slapping him briskly on the back of the head. Several of the other passengers winced, and turned away. This was a common occurrence, and they'd learned long ago to turn a blind eye. There wasn't really anything they could do about it, and protest could mean that you were without a job and hitchhiking back home. Mother Ruth Tallmadge didn't brook any interference with how she raised her grandson. "Your pitch was fine."
"I... I was off the beat?"
Another slap. "Down own up to sin that isn't yours, boy," she said warningly. "You have plenty enough on your soul. The verse, Mark, the verse! What happened to verse two?"
Understanding dawned in his expression. "Yes, you're right, Mother Ruth. I'm sorry."
"I don't understand you, boy, really I don't. A song as simple and basic as Washed in the Blood, and you forget a whole verse?" She slapped his head again. "Do you have any idea how foolish that would make us look if you did it during a performance?"
"I'm..."
"You're sorry."
"I'm tired, Mother Ruth. It took me longer than usual to memorize the Bible verses, and then I couldn't get to sleep, and..."
Slap. "Are you complaining about doing the Lord's work, boy?"
"No ma'am! I... I'm just so tired I can't think straight. If I could sleep..."
"You're not going to be back there snoozing away when you should be practicing, Mark. And if you'd just pray and cleanse your heart of all impurity, God would let you sleep like a lamb." Her eyes narrowed. "Is it filthy thoughts that are keeping you up?"
A blush swept over his cheeks, making him look very young. "Grandma!"
The slap this time was hard enough to snap his head forward. "What have I told you about that?"
"I'm sorry, Mother Ruth."
"Tell me, have you been thinking about those filthy Jezebels, is that what's been troubling your rest? I saw them gathering round you at that last fellowship. Indecent hussies. I don't know why they let them into the sanctuary, all painted up and dressed like street women."
Marko blinked in bewilderment. There had been a few shy girls who had come over to talk to him at the church fellowship after their last performance. A couple of them had been wearing a little face powder and lip-gloss, and one had been wearing a top with little string straps. He'd noticed Mother Ruth watching this girl, her mouth tight with disapproval as the girl rubbed her arms, fighting the goose bumps that the air conditioning had raised. Marko had moved over to talk to the youth minister as soon as he politely could, knowing that talking with the girl could bring more trouble than the momentary pleasure of simple companionship would be worth.
"I'm waiting, Mark."
He suddenly realized that he'd better respond. "No ma'am," he said firmly. What sort of excuse would she accept? "I've been having nightmares again."
At this, his grandfather, seated opposite Luther, leaned over, his eyes concerned. "Was it the same one, son?" Marko nodded. "Your parents," he said sadly. He reached over and took the boy's hand, squeezing it sympathetically. Marko's parents, John Paul Tallmadge's daughter and son-in-law, had been killed in a horrible car wreck when Marko was nine. The little boy had been belted in the back seat and had survived with only bruises and cuts, but he had been trapped for over an hour with the bloody, crushed corpses of his mother and father. For more than a year there wasn't a night that went by that didn't see the child waking up with night terrors. It had gradually gotten better, but the bad dreams never completely went away. John had suggested a couple of times that Marko might benefit from therapy, and his wife had told him firmly that God-fearing people did not need mumbo-jumbo head doctors. If the boy would just pray hard enough, and meditate on how lucky he was to have survived and landed with decent, caring people, he'd be fine.
If it had been left up to Ruth, Marko would have been put to bed with tape over his mouth, so that no one would be bothered by his scream. John had defied her on this, pointing out that if anyone ever heard of it, the child welfare people might think twice about her custody claim. Every night for over a year he'd gone into Marko's room at the first sound of distress. He'd held the trembling boy, his big, solid body giving the grieving child a fragile sense of security. He hadn't known his grandparents before he'd been thrown into their care, but he quickly came to love his grandfather.
Ruth snorted, but some of the disturbing accusation died out of her expression. "You need to grow up, Mark. They've been gone for almost nine years now. Time you forgot and moved on."
He gave her a flat look. "I'm not going to forget my parents."
She waved dismissively. "That isn't what I meant. I just mean that God has a plan for your life, and if you keep hauling around all that excess baggage, it's going to slow you down. I suppose," she said grudgingly, "that's enough practice for now. After all, our next performance won't be for another three days. Plenty of time to rest and practice before then." She yawned, putting the back of her hand over her mouth. "Come to think of it, I'm a little weary myself." She gave Luther a stern look. "Don't go playing that noise while I'm trying to rest."
"No, Mother Ruth."
She was walking back toward the bed space. "But don't go wasting your time, either."
"Luther and I can go over some new arrangements," called John.
He got no reply, as the door was already shutting. There were a few moments of tense silence, everyone staring at the flimsy door. Then, gradually, the atmosphere in the bus relaxed. People began to talk more freely, though they were still careful to keep their voices low. There were even occasional ripples of laughter.
John examined his grandson. "You do look a little peaked, Marko."
Marko smiled. His grandfather practiced an occasional small defiance against his grandmother, but never in her presence. One of those rebellions was calling Marko by his given name. When he'd come to live with the Tallmadges, Ruth had declared that Marko was a foreign corruption of a good Christian name, and that he would henceforth be Mark Tallmadge. Marko had protested. Marko was the name his parents had wanted him to have, and, "My last name is Blackman."
"I'm not going to have my grandson known by a name that might as well be Negro." Ruth Tallmadge had spoken, and so it mote be. No paperwork was drawn up, no legal changes made, but from that day on he'd been presented to the world as Mark Tallmadge instead of Marko Blackman. Only his grandfather and Luther dared call him by his true name--and they didn't dare do it within earshot of Ruth.
"Yeah, Granddad." John didn't require Marko to call him Father John when they were alone. He'd even made a joke about it, saying that as rabidly anti-Catholic as Ruth was, he was surprised she'd insisted on him taking that title. "I'm half tempted to get me one of those turned around collars--just to see the look on her face."
"I have something that might help you sleep," said Luther. "Do you have your Walkman?"
"Sure." Marko watched as Luther sorted through the tapes that were slotted into a padded carrier. Luther was the Tallmadge Traveling Glory Singers' pianist. He was a slight man in his mid-thirties, and had been with the group for almost five years now. Marko liked Luther. He was a shy, gentle, creative soul, who occasionally thanked Marko for letting him share in presenting his gift to the world. The main reason Marko liked Luther, though, was because he was go good for Granddad.
Marko remembered how Granddad had been when he'd first gone to live with the Tallmadges. He'd been so quiet, scarcely uttering a word when Ruth was around, aside from quiet responses to direct comments or questions. And there's been an empty, far away look in his eyes that Marko didn't like. Then when he was twelve, Luther had been hired as a pianist. The change in John had been almost immediate. Now the big man smiled often. Before he had been silent at the performances, aside from a few short, stilted words of testimony, and the hymns. Now he would spend time after each performance with the congregations, usually with Luther at his elbow, speaking easily, sharing anecdotes about life on the road with a gospel singing troupe. Yes, Luther was good for Granddad. It was clear that the friendship went both ways. The little musician watched the big singer with eyes that held more than a little hero worship.
Luther held out a cassette. It had a pasted on label that said NATURE SOUNDS--RAIN, WAVES, FOREST. "Here. This might help you sleep." Marko took it, smiling his thanks, but unable to keep the resignation out of his eyes. At least it wasn't spirituals. "Marko? Make sure that you have your earphones on and the volume down to a reasonable level when you play that," Luther cautioned.
Marko nodded, fitting his earphones over his ears, then plugging the cassette into the player. He turned the volume down to 2, then punched PLAY. His eyes flew open at the first pounding of percussion, and the thrum of electric guitars, then a saxophone wailed. He looked over at Luther and his grandfather, astonished, as a man began to sing. "Live, baby, live. Now that the day is over. I got a new sensation, in perfect moments--impossible to refuse..." They both smiled back at him, and Granddad lifted a finger to his lips, eyes twinkling as he tilted his head toward the back of the bus.
Marko smiled his gratitude. He'd heard this sort of music before, blasting from the speakers of cars, or from the 'boom boxes' held by the sort of youths his grandmother castigated on sight. He'd never, of course, dared try to listen to it in his spare time, much less own it. No, his radio was always carefully tuned to Christian or public broadcasting stations. He only got this sort of 'devil music' in brief, stolen snatches. Now he turned the volume up a notch, setting in with pleasure, and not feeling quite so tired. As the man sang, he gazed out at the landscape that rolled by under the deep golden early evening sun.
"Sleep, baby, sleep. Now that the night is over. And the sun comes like a god into our room, all perfect light and promises..."
He could see the sun, a fiery disk, touching the horizon ahead. *Funny. I've never really bought into that bit about the dawn and the sun bringing hope. I have to deal with Ruth during the days, and I'm pretty much free of her at night. Yeah, seems to me that it's the night that's full of promises, dude. Sorry. It's a good song, though.*
He sang along softly with the chorus, lips barely moving, so softly that no real sound escaped him, only a brush of air. "Gotta hold on you. A new sensation, a new sensation. Right now--gonna take you over..."
The sign flashed past too quickly to be read, but Marko knew where they were going. He didn't glance back as it faded into the distance.
SANTA CARLA
20 MILES
Chapter Two
David knew when the sun touched the horizon--he could feel the approaching darkness. He hung quietly, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, waiting. When he was human he'd enjoyed the last, lazy few minutes before he had to get up, and that hadn't changed. It was just that getting up now involved dropping down from his roost instead of climbing out of bed.
The rim of the sun sank behind the dark landline, the last wash of crimson and gold fading quickly into the deep blue that preceded full night, and David opened his eyes. For a moment he just hung there, getting a feel for the evening. His feet were hooked over a sturdy exposed beam, ankles bent at an angle that would have been impossible for a human. He cocked his head, listening. Dwayne and Paul's chosen lair was nearby, just off this larger chamber. Sometimes the sounds of their lovemaking inspired David to restlessly roam the halls of the hotel's subterranean ruins. He knew that if he just went to them he would be welcomed, but...
*But they should have time alone. They're a couple, and much as they love me, I'd be a third wheel.*
David sighed, then let himself drop, plummeting headfirst toward the rubble strewn floor. He flipped in mid-air, landing neatly on his feet. As his boots struck the ground, Paul and Dwayne emerged from the darkened hallway behind him. David took his leather duster off the chair where he'd left it that morning. As he donned it he said, "Good evening, brothers. Sleep well?"
Paul chuckled. "Like the dead."
Dwayne groaned good naturedly, slapping at his lover in punishment for the hoary joke. David smiled faintly. It might make his loneliness seem more acute, but he couldn't begrudge the others' closeness. It did his heart good to see people he cared about loving, and being loved. "I think they're getting ready to have some sort of thing over at the stage on the boardwalk in the next couple days. Let's hit the road and scope it out." They made their way through the darkened hulk, emerging into the warm, clear night. Paul and Dwayne continued to joke and jostle as they made the long climb up the cliff's side. At the top they walked their bikes out of the stand of brush that concealed them during the day, and mounted up.
David noticed Dwayne happily stroking his bike, and smiled to himself. The bike had been seized to cover debts, along with the rest of Dwayne's deceased stepfather's estate, and the boy had despaired of ever seeing it again. Max had told Dwayne he should just resign himself to getting a different bike, once Max could afford it. The bike was slated to be sold at auction, and since none of them could attend during the day...
David and Paul had noticed how disappointed Dwayne was. The next night they'd paid a visit to the impound yard. The security guard was unconscious for close to two days, and had a very confused tale to tell when he finally awoke--something about monsters with claws and fangs. Since he'd tested negative for alcohol and drugs, his superiors decided the confusion was from the head injury, and gave him a medical leave instead of a suspension. The only thing that saved his ass was the fact that the high-end sports cars they were counting on for a good sale had been left alone. They couldn't say for sure that nothing was missing, since the paper records had been shredded, and the office computer had disappeared. They just counted themselves lucky that no one had backed up a car carrier and taken off with a couple of hundred dollars worth of future budget. The look on Dwayne's face had been worth the tantrum Max had pitched about their 'reckless disregard for caution'.
David's mood lifted a little on the trip into Santa Carla. He couldn't help but be cheered, what with the other two boys racing and playing 'cycle tag', laughing and urging each other on. They were both so different now from how they had been when David had first seen them. Paul--his rough time on the streets hadn't yet dimmed his golden good looks, but he was skittish--wary—as if expecting a blow at any moment. He didn't belong anywhere, and he knew it--the world had made it abundantly clear. Dwayne--sullen and quiet, but with raw pain and near despair gazing out of his dark eyes. Now...
They weren't 'normal'. They're kind could never be what the rest of the world thought of as normal and balanced, but they didn't want to be. That part of society had never done them a bit of good. They embraced their inner demons, and found strength. They embraced each other, and found hope, and the closest thing to peace that either had ever known--a reason to go on.
David wanted that. He'd wanted it for a long time. For a few brief months he thought he might have found it with Paul, but then they'd met Dwayne, and he couldn't be unhappy about that. He loved Dwayne as much as he loved Paul, but Paul and Dwayne loved each other just a little more than they loved David. He could deal with that. It was as it should be, but he still felt the decades old emptiness, and he was still looking for something to fill it.
The boardwalk was busy, the Friday night crowds thick. They parked, and went first to Max's video store. It wasn't as if they were eager to see him, but they all knew that it was just easier to check in early, and avoid irritating the master vampire.
Max was in the back room checking inventory when they arrived. He glanced over at them, nodding. "Boys. Any special plans for tonight?"
David shrugged. "No. We had a pretty full evening yesterday." They'd found a nest of vagrants on a remote section of beach and had feasted. They wouldn't really feel any hunger pangs for another day or so.
Max nodded, checking something off on a clipboard. "Did you clean up after yourselves?"
David was glad Max had his back turned--he missed the blond boy's look of irritation. "Don't we always?"
Max gave him a sharp look, but said mildly, "It never hurts to emphasize good habits, David."
The clerk came to the storeroom. "Mister Graforlok, there's someone here that wants to speak to you."
"Excuse me, boys." They stood aside to let him pass, then followed him back into the store. The clerk indicated a trio of people standing at the counter--a man, woman, and boy. Max smiled as he walked toward them, and David knew that the elder vampire had already labeled them 'happy family'. "Good evening." He offered his hand first to the woman, then to the two men. "Max Graforlok. What can I do for you?"
The woman, a severely handsome woman in her mid-fifties, dressed in sober, modest clothes, said, "It's what we can do for you, brother. We're here to offer you a chance to help in the lord's work."
Max's smiled didn't waver, but David could see the skin around his eyes tighten. "Really?"
The man was holding a sheaf of papers. When the woman looked at him, he handed one to Max. While Max was studying it, Paul and Dwayne wandered over, flanking the group. The woman gave them suspicious looks, and was answered by angelic smiles. Dwayne crooked his fingers at the man, lifting an eyebrow as he nodded at the fliers. The man's smile seemed genuine, if a bit awkward, as he handed over a paper. Paul and David immediately moved to drape an arm over either of Dwayne's shoulders, and they leaned in to look at the flier.
It was a simple affair. There was a fairly good picture portrait at the top of a trio of people--these people, they noticed. The legend underneath said THE TALLMADGE TRAVELING GLORY SINGERS. Beneath it, in smaller print, it identified the trio as Father John, Mother Ruth, and Mark--'the fourth generation of Tallmadge to spread God's word through the wonder of music, and the glory of The Word.'
Dwayne looked up at his brothers, smirking, and Paul grinned, rolling his eyes. But David elbowed them both, and studied the boy, who was standing a couple of steps behind his elders. Now that he looked, Mark was older than he'd first thought--probably seventeen or eighteen. He looked younger, though. That picture must have been taken a couple of years ago, before he'd started his push toward manhood. He still had the soft blond curls and large brown eyes, and his features were still a little too delicate to be considered 'macho'--but planes and angles were starting to emerge from the adolescent softness, and his body was compact, but muscular--definitely a man's body.
The boy's eyes were wandering, scanning the brightly colored video boxes with clear hunger, and something akin to awe. Their eyes met, and David grinned at him. Mark looked startled, dropping his eyes immediately. But after a second he looked up tentatively. David nodded, and was rewarded with a tiny smile, a bare curving of the boy's almost delicately shaped mouth.
David was aware that the woman had continued talking. "As you can see, we'll be holding a revival here Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday. This is sure to bring hundreds of decent, God-fearing people to this boardwalk. I assume that this is a family store?"
Max looked a little non-plussed. The adult section was off in the back corner, but it was clearly marked. The woman was keeping her eyes resolutely turned away from it. "Yes, I certainly aim to be."
"Then you should let your community know that you support wholesome entertainment."
"I'll be happy to put one of your fliers up in our window."
She nodded. "Now, we also put advertising on our nightly programs, for a very reasonable donation. We have special rates for our brethren who wish to support our evangelical efforts, and..."
David had to force down a chuckle at the trapped look on Max's face. He drifted toward the door, with Dwayne and Paul following. As he passed Mark, he touched his arm, and tipped his head toward the door, inviting him along. Mark hesitated, but Father John had noticed the interaction. He silently poked the boy, gesturing for him to go along. Mark gave him a grateful smile and went out onto the boardwalk with the other boys.
They moved a few yards down, out of sight from the video store's windows, then stopped, and all stared at each other. David made the introductions, jerking a thumb at each boy in turn. "I'm David, and this is Paul, and Dwayne. You're Mark, right?"
The boy's face tightened. "No."
"No?" David took the flier from Dwayne, examining it more closely. He held it up next to Marko and made a point of looking between them.
"No." Marko said firmly. "My real name is Marko Blackman. Marko Tallmadge is just what my grandmother decided to call me." He hesitated, then said bitterly, "She wasn't too happy with my mother's choice of husband."
The Lost Boys all exchanged looks. They were familiar with family troubles. "Bummer," said Paul.
"Yeah," agreed Dwayne. "So, Marko--are you, like, a star, or something?"
Marko smiled. "Hardly. We don't fill arenas or concert halls. We're just a working class gospel group. Mother Ruth is always trying to scrounge a recording deal, but no one has bitten so far. We do sell our own tapes and CDs at each performance, though. She goes around to every Christian broadcasting station she can find, pushing free copies on them, and I think we get a little airplay now and then. No one can make her understand that even though Elvis and Kristopherson had huge gospel hits, they probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for their secular success."
"So why don't you sing regular music?" asked Paul.
Marko's smile faded. "It's complicated. I still have to live with my grandparents." He paused, then spoke a thought he'd been having for the last year. "For another few months, anyway."
David eyed him speculatively. "About the rock n' roll--Grandma doesn't approve?"
"Mother Ruth thinks that Pat Boone endangered his immortal soul by singing Hey, Good Lookin'."
"Ouch," said Dwayne mildly. "So I suppose you don't get many chances to cut loose?"
"You suppose right."
David lounged back against the building, lighting a cigarette. "You're going to be in the area for a few days, right?" He offered the pack to Marko.
Marko gave him a 'you must be kidding' look. "No, thank you. I already have a headache from the long drive here--I don't need any more chastisements." He didn't notice the angry understanding in Dwayne and Paul's expressions. "And yes. We're performing through Wednesday. After that, we're taking a couple of weeks break, but that'll be eaten up with practicing and making new arrangements, promotion, stuff like that."
"How come you're not in school?" asked Dwayne, curious.
"I'm home schooled--I have been since I was about ten. I think I could have passed the GED a long time ago, but Mother Ruth won't let me take it. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'll start getting independent if I have a diploma, and she's not about to give up a scrap of control."
"That sucks," said Dwayne. "You need to hang around here with us, man." He smiled. "We're great at promoting rebellion."
Marko had to return the smile. "You're the people Mother Ruth has warned me about."
"Maybe so," agreed David, "but we're a lot of fun. I second Dwayne. We're here at the boardwalk most nights. Come over and we'll show you around. Where are you staying?"
Now Marko looked troubled, even alarmed. "It wouldn't be a good idea to come around there."
"Why?"
As if in answer, they heard Mother Ruth's voice raised. "Mark? Mark! Where are you, boy?" She stepped out onto the boardwalk, eyes searching. When she spotted the little group, her expression froze, and Marko almost flinched. David felt a cold stillness settle into his stomach when he saw the apprehension on the boy's face. "What have I told you about consorting with such people? By your company shall ye be known, boy. Filth rubs off."
If she'd been trying to anger the boys, it didn't work. Paul just raised Dwayne's arm high, snuggling his face into his leather-clad pit and sniffing deeply. He came up, saying, "She's right, D. I toldya to use Dial."
Ruth's face flushed a dangerous brick red, and her voice was grating. "Get over here!"
Marko gave his new friends an apologetic look. But before he turned away he whispered, "Look for the bus. Can't miss it."
"Boy!"
"Yes, ma'am. Just trying to bear witness, Mother Ruth," he said as he trotted toward her. "You always tell me that we must bear witness at every chance."
"Well, do it by example--don't talk to them!" she snapped, grabbing his wrist. "John! Leave some of those fliers and come on. There's a whole string of places yet to visit." She marched past the Lost Boys, keeping a firm grip on Marko, with John in their wake.
Paul watched as they turned into the Frog's comic store, and almost immediately came back out. "What do you think?" he said. "Was it the kids' pseudo-militia look that ran them out, or the parent's obviously Satanic hippie background?"
"Who knows?" David tossed the cigarette to the boards, grinding it out. He nodded after the retreating trio. "But I have a feeling that even if the people he's with consider theirselves Heaven bound, Marko's in his own particular little Hell."
Dwayne and Paul exchanged looks, and Dwayne said softly, "Are we going to do anything about it?"
David's eyes were still fixed on the graceful figure of the gospel singer. "Maybe," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe."
Chapter Three
The only time Marko ever had a room to himself on the road was when a host family couldn't be persuaded that he'd 'be just fine on the couch'. He was never lodged privately the few times they had to make use of motels. He'd find himself sharing a room with one, two, or sometimes three of the group's musicians. He had a feeling that if Ruth ever realized that he'd begun, in the last few years, to get occasional erections that could be directly traced to how tight the sleeping arrangements were, that would change. Here in Santa Carla, he was sharing a room with two of the musicians--each one of them supposed to rotate to take the cot while the other two had the single beds. Their second evening in Santa Carla, his sleeping arrangements did change, but not because Ruth thought he was facing temptations. Marko knew that he was being punished for his bad judgment the previous night.
"We can't afford the expense of that extra cot," Ruth informed him, "and the other group members are already sleeping two to a bed, so it seems that you'll have to sleep in the bus again." She lifted her chin, watching him sternly, waiting for some protest.
She wasn't going to get it. The bed in the bus was just a mattress on a platform, so it wasn't the most comfortable place in the world, but it was private. He kept his face carefully repentant, but he was crowing inside. Once Mother Ruth was asleep, she didn't get up for anything but a piercing scream, a fire alarm, or Gabrielle's horn, and none of his other traveling companions would rat him out if he took a nocturnal ramble. Mother Ruth was cordially hated by everyone she dealt with, and they'd all be happy to keep a secret from her, as long as there was no personal risk. In this case, they could simply claim ignorance.
Marko could see that she was waiting for some sort of response, and he decided that a small complaint would only make her more determined see him isolated on the bus. "It's getting chilly."
"Don't whine," she said with satisfaction. "I'll see that one of the others gives you a spare blanket. Just be sure that you take care of your business before everyone is in bed. I don't want you waking people up. They'll need their rest."
Marko knew that the musicians were probably going to spend all the time they weren't practicing watching television, playing cards, or sneaking off to bars so they could drink or chase women. Ruth was fairly sure that all her employees were paragons of temperance and morale rectitude, positive that if they didn't have the fear of God, they certainly had the fear of Ruth Tallmadge. But for a fairly intelligent woman, she was remarkably ignorant of true human nature. Marko was counting on this. He hoped to turn eighteen and be gone before Ruth even knew he had rebellious leanings. Marko remembered Dwayne's words last night--'We're great at promoting rebellion.' He started to smile, but noticed Ruth's eagle-eyed look, and turned it into a resigned look.
Finally satisfied that her grandson was properly contrite, Ruth let the subject drop. "John and I have been invited out to supper by one of the local pastors." Marko knew that the invitation had probably been for the entire trio, but Ruth felt that 'children should be seen and not heard, and seen only as much as necessary.'
Marko was pretty sure that she kept him away from the public as much as possible because she was worried that she might slip and correct him too severely in public. Her image was that of a stern, but loving, disciplinarian. *She sure as hell has the stern part down,* Marko thought. She would have made some excuse for Marko--probably that he was exhausted by the trip, or had a sniffle that needed to be nursed. She might condemn liars to hellfire, but she never considered any untruths she might utter to be lies.
Ruth was fishing in her pocketbook. "Here." She handed him a bill, saying severely, "Try to eat something at least marginally healthy, and I'll expect the change back."
He nodded. *Like that's unexpected.* Before his parents had passed away Marko had received an allowance. Every week he was given five dollars to spend any way he saw fit. He wasn't even required to save a portion of it, or only spend it on 'sensible' things, like some of his friends. Once he was in Ruth's custody the allowance had stopped. When he'd dared mention it, he'd gotten a harsh lecture on ingratitude and greed. Marko knew very well that he was a working member of the Glory Singers, and that his performance probably inspired a good portion of the 'love offerings' that were given above and beyond their usual fees, but he was never given anything but pittances to buy a meal or snack.
As soon as John and Ruth left in the group's van, the musicians scattered, and Marko headed for the boardwalk. He knew very well that his grandmother had intended for him to go to one of the fast food joints on the same block as the hotel, but he could see the tops of the roller coaster only a few blocks away, and he started walking. *After all, she said to try to find something a little healthy.*
He finally settled on pancakes. He figured that pancakes might not be healthy (especially with the heavy fat and cholesterol doses from the sausage, bacon, and eggs he added), but at least they were wholesome. The place had the advantage of not being a chain. He was very tired of the overly bright, overly plasticized, generic places. The place on the boardwalk looked like an old fashioned diner. The sign on the window said UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT, but whoever they were, Marko was happy that they didn't seem to be heavily into renovation.
He knew that his grandparents were unlikely to be back before nine, and any minute he didn't spend eating could be spent exploring--acting like a normal person. He finished eating quickly, then exercised another small rebellion by leaving a tip. The waitress had been efficient, and he knew they worked hard. Ruth was of the opinion that they 'didn't deserve anything extra for doing what they were paid to do in the first place'. She had, on occasion, left a religious tract instead of a tip. Marko was of the opinion that this had likely turned more people against Christianity than it had saved soles. He left a two-dollar tip, and received a sweet, tired smile in return.
He checked his watch and estimated that he had at least an hour and a half before he had to start back toward the motel. Night had fallen while he was eating, and the boardwalk was crowded with weekend visitors. Marko watched the happy, chattering people, wondering what it was like to just go out to enjoy yourself whenever you felt like it. The last time he could remember a purely pleasure expedition had been his last birthday, when John and Luther had taken him bowling. Ruth had complained about the waste of money, saying that the simple cake and gifts should have been enough to make any modest Christian boy happy. Marko snorted at the memory. Gifts. *Socks, underwear, a shirt, and a Bible study guide.* He'd been past due for new clothes, anyway, and he already had a stack of study guides.
There had been two real gifts, though. John had given him a copy of American Rider Magazine, promising to buy him an issue every month for a year 'since we don't have an address for them to ship subscription copies to'. And Luther had given him a model kit--a 1957 BMW motorcycle with a Steib sidecar. "I wasn't sure what kind you like," he had said almost diffidently, "But I thought this one looked ..." he shrugged sheepishly, "cool?"
Marko loved it. The fact that Luther wasn't his blood relation, but still cared enough to buy him a gift that would really mean something to him made it even more special. The only downside was that Ruth had something else to hold over his head. She'd made ominous noises about the time he was wasting meticulously putting together the kit, so he'd spent an extra half-hour every evening memorizing Bible verses. It had been worth it.
*It actually had some benefit,* Marko thought. *She doesn't know it, but I memorized some extra verses. Now if I decide to take some time off, I won't be caught flat-footed if she wants me to recite something new for her. You've taught me well, Grandma. Your pious insistence on having me memorize what amounts to gibberish to me has taught me how to be devious. I was never like that with my parents. I never had to be.*
He found himself in front of the row of booths that housed the games--ring toss, water balloon shoot, fishing. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.
"Which one are you good at?"
Marko turned to find David standing close behind him. He couldn't have repressed his smile if he'd wanted to--and he didn't want to. "None of them."
"Oh, c'mon, you don't strike me as a klutz. There has to be one you're a little better at than the others."
"No, none. I've never played a game of chance."
Dwayne and Paul had come up behind David. Dwayne said, "You're kidding, right? You mean you never, like, played blackjack or roulette?"
"Nothing. Pool, darts, bingo... all games of skill, and therefore suspect. And these..." He gestured at the bright stuffed animals and air brushed T-shirts, "you can win prizes, so they're obviously gambling."
"That is so tilted," said Paul.
Marko shrugged. "It's not my opinion. I'm just quoting the party line." He thought for a moment, then said, his voice solemn, "Then the soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took his garments, and made four parts, to every soldier a part; and also his coat: now the coat was without seam, woven from the top throughout. They said therefore among themselves, Let us not rend it, but cast lots for it, whose it shall be: that the Scripture might be fulfilled, which saith, they parted my raiment among them, and for my vesture they did cast lots. These things therefore the soldiers did." The other boys were staring at him. He smiled. "John nineteen, verses twenty-three and twenty-four." He pitched his voice higher, but still managed a hellfire-and-brimstone tone as he scowled, saying, "Would you have cast lots for Our Savior's coat, Mark?"
David smiled, and Paul and Dwayne burst out laughing. "You got the old lady down!" said Dwayne.
"Hey," said Paul. "It that all real? You know, is that really in the Bible? You remembered it all?"
"Oh, yes. It's accurate, too. I have to be careful about getting things right. She checks me periodically."
"How much of that shit do you know? Hey!" Dwayne had slapped Paul on the back of the head. "Sorry," Paul mumbled.
"It's okay. I don't think it's shit, but..." He hesitated, biting his lip. "I don't know how to explain it but to say that I've learned it, but I don't understand it. I don't really feel it the way everyone seems to think I should." He shrugged. "Maybe it's because I've been doing it for so long. I couldn't understand it when I started memorizing it, and I've become so sick of it I don't even want to make the effort now."
"That's sort of sad," said David. "I thought religion was supposed to be a comfort to people."
"I'm sure it is. I mean, some of the people I meet at the churches and the performances? They really seem to be getting something out of it, you know? They have sort of a glow. Their eyes are peaceful. I guess it's partly because they didn't have it shoved down their throat every minute of the day." He sighed. "There aren't all that many of that sort, and Mother Ruth darn sure isn't one of them."
Paul laughed, and Marko gave him a sharp look, wondering what was so funny about what he'd just said. David seemed to know, and explained. "It's your choice of words, man. 'Darn'?"
"You're so cute," Paul chuckled.
Marko smiled. "The habits of a lifetime are hard to break. I might as well be cautious--I'm less likely to slip while I'm around her."
David gestured at the row of booths. "Go ahead and indulge yourself. They're just games, man, no matter what she says."
"I'd like to, but I have to bring back change, or she'll want to know why. Besides, even if I won," his voice was wistful, "I couldn't keep a prize. I'd never be able to explain how I got it. If I said someone gave it to me, I'd be in trouble for taking charity from strangers."
David's expression tightened. "Hard woman to please isn't she? I tell you what, brother..." Dwayne and Paul exchanged significant looks, then turned pleased gaze on Marko as David continued, reaching into his pocket. "This one's on me."
Marko felt touched. "Thank you, but I couldn't ask you to..."
"You're not asking me," David assured him. "I'm dragging your butt into it. That's what you tell the old fart if by some alien happenstance she finds out." He pulled out a dollar bill and waved it. "What'll it be?"
"You can win a live goldfish at the fishing booth," Dwayne offered.
"I'd never be allowed to keep it. Besides, Ruth would gripe about the expense of getting a bowl and fish food. I used to wish I had a dog or cat, till I realized it would have to live with her. She's of the opinion that if you can't eat an animal, it's a waste of resources, giving nothing in return for the expenses you rack up. I said something about it paying back with love," his voice became dry, "and she said that was one of the most ignorant, selfish statements she'd ever heard. Anyway, it would be hard on an animal, traveling the way we do." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"Let's forget about Madame Ruth for the time being," said David. "What do you want to do, Marko? What looks like fun?"
Marko considered the games thoughtfully, then said almost shyly, "I like water pistols."
"Hey, a sharpshooter! Good choice. Let's go."
They walked up to the counter. There were five water pistols mounted on the counter, and each of the boys took one. A twelve-year-old boy took the last one, even after receiving a hard stare from Paul, who was next to him. The barker gave them the spiel about how the guns wouldn't be powered up till he said 'go', aim for the clown head's mouth, and the first one to make their balloon inflate to the point it tripped a buzzer was the winner. "Go."
Marko jerked hard on the trigger, squinting at the target, muttering anxiously as his first burst dribbled down the clown's cheek before squirting into the open hole. He was concentrating too hard to notice that all the other boys were holding their guns just slightly off kilter, so that the streams splashed over, under, and around the intended target. All but the young boy on the end. He had good aim, and his balloon was inflating steadily, neck-and-neck with Marko's. Paul noticed, and shifted. His feet very unconvincingly tangled around each other, and he lurched against the boy, knocking his grip loose from the water pistol. The stream of water swung crazily, while Marko's aim stayed true, swelling the balloon. When the kid reached for the gun again, Paul grabbed his arms, as if to steady him, saying, "Hey, little buddy, are you okay? Didn't mean to bump you..."
"Let go."
"Are you sure you aren't...?"
The boy was trying to pull loose. "Let go, or I'll lose!"
The buzzer went off, and Marko crowed. "I did it! I won!"
The kid looked at Paul, and hissed, "Cheater!"
Paul held his hand down by his hip, showing the kid two dollar bills. The boy looked at them, then looked up at Paul, who nodded. The kid smirked, snatching the money. "Yeah, you sure did. Boy, what a hotshot!" He pelted away to try his hand at the dart game.
"Nice shooting," said the barker. "You can have anything on the bottom half of the wall, or anything on the green shelf."
Marko considered this carefully. He couldn't remember ever winning anything, and he wanted to get exactly the right prize. "Well, I'm a little old for stuffed animals."
"Aw," said Dwayne. "I kind of thought the small Barney was 'you'."
David casually hooked an arm over Marko's shoulder. He didn't miss the slight shiver that ran through the smaller boy's body, but he pretended not to notice. Instead he pointed to the items on the back shelf. "Lots to choose from, Marko. There's a glow-in-the-dark yo-yo, Fred Flintstone pencil sharpener, WWF poster, Japanese paper fan..."
"They have sunglasses," Marko said quietly.
David smiled. "They sure do. Which do you like? Aviator style, Rayban knock-offs, or John Lennon round ones?"
"What are those kind that Tom Cruise wore in Risky Business?"
Dwayne mock gasped. "Grandma let you see Risky Business?"
"Of course not," said Marko absently. "An R rated movie--one that featured drinking, fornication, prostitution, whoremongering, and perhaps most importantly disobeying and lying to your parents?"
"If you didn't see it, how do you know about this?" asked Dwayne curiously. "And how do you know about the Raybans?"
"I can read reviews," Marko pointed out, "And she couldn't keep me from seeing movie posters. I think I'd like those."
"Your finest pair of faux Raybans, m'man," ordered David.
The barker bowed, then presented the sunglasses to David with a flourish. "Now would you good gentlemen either play another round or move along? I have rubes to skin."
David bowed, and they moved a few yards down the boardwalk. "Let's see how you look in these." When Marko reached for them, David unfolded them and said, "Allow me, handsome." He slipped the glasses on Marko's face.
"How do I look?" The younger boy looked around. "Is there a mirror anywhere around here?"
"Nah," responded Dwayne. "One of the things we like about this place."
"You look cool," said David.
"Really?" The idea pleased Marko. The last thing he'd ever imagined being accused of was being cool.
"Sunglasses at night?" David smiled slowly. "Definitely your look."
Chapter Four
They spent a half-four walking along the boardwalk, just talking. Marko hadn't had much opportunity to just hang out with boys his own age. Their host families never seemed to have any sons that were Marko's age. He found himself occasionally spending time with boys who were about half his age, and he didn't mind that, really he didn't. He liked kids, but he could really talk to them. It was different with Dwayne, Paul--and David. Especially David.
Marko usually felt awkward with anyone but the gospel group. He knew that a lot of it was what he was, not who he was. He was seen either as an entertainer, or as someone who'd dedicated himself to the service of the Lord, and that set him apart in their eyes. He had a feeling that he'd have a hard time explaining how things really were, and he didn't really want to disappoint most of the people. He knew it gave them a sense of comfort to believe in someone who could selflessly devote themselves to their beliefs. How could he ever explain that he hadn't made a choice? His grandmother had dedicated him, as surely as any heathen who'd ever laid a squalling newborn on the steps of some unnamed god's primitive temple.
It was different with these boys. They knew what he was, but they seemed more interested in who he was. "So, how'd you end up with Gram and Gramps?" David asked as they leaned against one of the buildings. It was a comic book store. Paul was at the window, making faces at the two grim faced boys who seemed to be in charge. Dwayne was watching him, shaking his head, but smiling. *It's like Paul's showing off for him,* Marko thought. *The way I've seen some of the boys acting silly, trying to catch the attention of girls.*
David poked him. "Earth to Marko?"
"Sorry. They have a lot of fun, don't they?"
David glanced at the other two. Paul had looped an arm around Dwayne's neck and was whispering in the dark-haired boy's ear. Whatever he was saying had Dwayne snickering. "Yeah, they're good for each other."
There was an odd tone to David's voice. It was a mixture of pride, pleasure, and wistfulness. "My parents died when I was nine, in a car accident." Marko looked down at the boardwalk. "I lived."
David winced. "Damn, man," he said softly. "I'm sorry."
Marko shrugged. "You weren't the one driving. I won't say I'm over it, but it's better now. The thing is, I wasn't supposed to go to my grandparents. My parents had talked about it, because Ruth tried to have them declared unfit parents so she could get custody of me." He glared at David fiercely. "They weren't! She tried to make a big deal out of them going to a bar every now and then, and me being in daycare since Mom was working. Anyway, the judge threw the case out, and said the child welfare people had screwed up by even letting it get that far. My parents didn't tell me any of this, but I used to hear them talking when they thought I was asleep, and I figured it out. They thought I wouldn't understand, but I could tell how she is from the first time I saw her."
David nodded. "I bet you could. You pay attention to the world, don't you, Marko?"
Marko nodded. "And I'm not as naive as people seem to think I am. I never have been. Anyway, my mom and dad wanted me to go to my Uncle Gene--my dad's brother. They even wrote up a paper saying that was what they wanted. They were going to go to a lawyer and have it made official, but..." He shrugged. "Money was kind of tight, and they thought they had time."
"Time has a way of sneaking up and biting most people in the ass," David agreed.
"David," said Paul. "Me and Dwayne are gonna go get something to drink." He smiled. "You want regular, or dark?"
"Regular. Meet you under the boardwalk, okay?"
"You got it." The two boys trotted down the boardwalk, laughing as they dodged through the crowd.
David was watching him. "You still have time, right?"
Marko checked his watch. "About an hour, I think."
"Come on, then."
David led him down a set of wooden steps, down to the sand of the beach. They walked under the boardwalk platform, back into the shadows with David leading the way. Marko's steps slowed as they went deeper, and David paused. "You okay?"
"It's just kind of dark."
"Yeah. Great, isn't it? Your eyes will adjust in a couple of minutes. Here--gimme your hand. I'll make sure you don't run into anything."
David was just one shadow among others, moving toward Marko, and Marko felt a brief flicker of unease. *He must spend a lot of time here. He moves so easily, like he belongs here in the dark.* Then David took his hand. His fingers were firm and cool, almost cold.
"Don't worry, buddy. I got you." His voice was reassuring, almost gentle, and Marko's unease fled.
They came to an area where three piers, lashed together, braced a major support. David dropped Marko's hand and sank down to sit on the sand, and Marko followed suit. He looked around, then glanced up. Thin, flickering shafts of light sifted down through the hairline cracks between the boards above, washing the area in dim yellow. He could hear the rumble of the amusement rides, and the disjointed blending of a half-dozen different rock n' roll songs. There was the erratic thump and scrap of footsteps, and occasional burst of laughter, or voices raised in excitement.
There was a bright flare of light, and Marko looked over to see David lighting a cigarette. The other boy shook out the match, and the light faded, save for the reddish glow of the cigarette's coal. Marko's eyes had adjusted, as David said they would, and he could see the grayish plume of smoke as David exhaled. The other boy gestured with the cigarette. "I should have asked. Does this bother you?"
"No," Marko assured him. "Not unless I'm stuck somewhere tight with no ventilation."
"Some people can't handle it--allergies. I've heard some of 'em talking about what they call second hand smoke, too. Say it's just as bad for you as if you smoked--maybe worse."
"I've spent most of my life on a bus. I'm sure I've swallowed enough road dust and exhaust to make worrying about a little smoke kind of silly."
"So you're not afraid I'm gonna give you cancer?"
"No."
"You're pretty trusting, Marko--coming down here with me." Marko said nothing, studying the pale outline of David's face. "A lot of things could go unnoticed under here. A lot of things have gone unnoticed. It's a different world, and the people topside stay oblivious. That's the way they like it."
There was a lull as the noise overhead seemed to ebb for a moment, leaving near silence. There was only the faint, far off strain of one song, playing on a distant ride. ABBA, Marko thought. "If you change your mind, I'm the first in line. Honey I'm still free, take a chance on me. If you need me, let me know, gonna be around. If you've got no place to go, if you're feeling down. If you're all alone..."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
David flicked an ash, staring at him. "Are you scared?"
Marko studied the other boy. Living with Mother Ruth had given him a fine sense for hypocrites. He was good at seeing past the masks people wore for the world. With David... David wasn't showing him everything, but then--they'd just met. Marko had a feeling that David was being more open with him than most people in his life had. "Not of you."
The other boy smiled, tossing away the cigarette. "Good. We're gonna be friends, Marko."
"I hope so." They were silent for a moment, then Marko heard footsteps, and muted laughter.
Dwayne and Paul appeared out of the darkness, Paul carrying a paper bag. They dropped down to sit cross-legged, side-by-side, near the other two. "Missed us?" Paul gave them a cheeky grin, wiggling his eyebrows. "Or are we interrupting something?"
"Smart ass." There was wry affection in David's voice. "Show me."
Paul shoved the paper down, revealing a large bottle of malt liquor. Marko said, "How did you get that? None of you are of age, right?"
Dwayne smirked. "David is."
"I don't have the right ID, though. We have our ways, Songbird," drawled David. "Paul, open that up before the chill goes off."
Paul unscrewed the cap, then acted like he was going to take a drink. Dwayne slapped his shoulder, saying, "Hey, rude! Offer some to our guest first."
"No, thanks," said Marko. "You enjoy."
"Ah, c'mon." Paul extended the bottle.
"Don't push him," David said firmly.
Paul took a swig, then tilted the bottle up to Dwayne's mouth, holding it while he drank. Marko saw the way Paul watched the dark-haired boy, his eyes shining, like he was looking at something precious. Dwayne wiped the bottle neck on his sleeve, then said, "You sure, Marko? This stuff isn't all that strong, and it's pretty smooth."
"He's a teetotaler," said Paul.
"I don't think that's it," said David. "I think it's because a certain someone might take it into her head to sniff his breath."
That was exactly it. Mother Ruth always muttered and threatened whenever she caught the scent of booze on one of the musicians, and Marko had never wanted to sample alcohol enough to risk the aggravation.
"We can take care of that," offered Paul. He felt around in his pockets. "I got gum, and I think I have a few TicTacs here, too."
"We wouldn't want to push Marko into doing anything that might get him in trouble."
Marko looked at him sharply, remembering exactly how much of his time went into avoiding incurring Ruth's disapproval. And the thing was--it was impossible to avoid. He knew that if she presented him with a list of things that he must do perfectly to please her, and he managed to do all of them, she'd just add more. He held out his hand toward Paul. "Let me have it."
He took the bottle, tipped it up, and took two long swallows, eyes closing with the sting as the alcohol burned. He could hear Paul and Dwayne whooping in encouragement. When he lowered the bottle he offered it to David, saying hoarsely, "And that's it for me."
David accepted the bottle. "That's all right, little brother." He drank deeply, then smiled at Marko, eyes glinting in the dim light. "Some things you have to take up gradually."
Part Five
"David, you're being a hog," complained Dwayne.
David passed the beer bottle back to Paul, saying, "You guys have what's left."
"Don't tell me Marko's being a good influence already?" Paul said, a hint of mocking in his voice. "Hell, Marko, you're not supposed to be reforming us--we're supposed to be corrupting you."
Marko smiled. "No one can truly corrupt anyone. They either abuse them, or the inclination was there to start with."
"Interesting attitude," commented David. "What about the serpent in the Garden of Eden?"
Marko shrugged. "Man isn't perfect. Eve and Adam walked into sin with their eyes wide open."
Paul was rolling the bottle between his palms. "I thought you said you didn't really understand all the stuff in the Bible."
Marko smiled. "I don't. No one does. If they claim to, they're either lying through their teeth, or fooling themselves. One thing I do understand is the concept of free will. In all things there is a choice to be made. You have to live with your choices."
Paul looked skeptical. "Not in all things."
Marko shook his head. "Not in the things that are taken out of your hands. People don't choose to be maimed or killed, but those are the results of the choices of others."
"Sometimes," David said, "after one of those incidents... you have to choose how you'll deal with it."
"Yes," Marko agreed. "Take my case. I lost my parents, and I was sent to live with someone I know sees me only as something she can use."
Dwayne spoke up. "The why do you stay?"
"Yeah," Paul chimed in. "Why not take off?"
Marko sighed. "I have my reasons."
Dwayne's voice hardened. "Well, I can't understand staying with someone who doesn't care about you, and just uses you." Until now, the boy had seemed genial, almost gentle. But now Marko could see pain and anger burning in his eyes. Paul reached over and rubbed his back soothingly. Dwayne shot him a quick, grateful look, but then turned his gaze back to Marko and repeated, "Why do you stay?"
Marko bit his lip. "It's complicated. I'm not the only one involved."
David sat forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "Someone you don't want to leave?" His voice was neutral, but Paul and Dwayne knew him well, and they picked up the apprehension in his tone. David didn't WANT for there to be anyone special in Marko's life.
Marko sighed. "I don't want to leave my grandfather alone with her," he admitted. He didn't see the tension go out of David's posture. "And there's my Uncle Gene. I DID run away once, when I was thirteen. I went to Gene. He tried to fight her for custody. I was in a foster home for three months." He smiled sadly. "I didn't mind too much. To me, that was the closest thing to a normal life I'd had for years. But Gene lost. Ruth had about two dozen people willing to testify to her sterling character, and Uncle Gene... He's a musician. He plays in bars, and he's in a 12 step program. There was no way they'd let me go with him instead of her." He ran a hand through his hair and said bleakly, "She told me that if I ever did that again, she'd find some way to have Gene put in jail, so I wouldn't be tempted to run to him again. I believe her. She believes that it's all right to lie if you're doing 'God's work'."
"Huh," said Paul. "And who says what's God's work and what isn't?"
"She does, of course."
"I'm shocked," said David dryly.
Dwayne stood up. "Scuse me, all, but I have to go recycle the beer." He wandered a few dozen yards away, till he was nearly lost in the shadows, then stepped behind another cluster of piers.
Paul waited a moment, rocking back and forth, lips pursed. Then he stood up and said, "I'd better go make sure he doesn't get lost," and slipped off after the other boy.
Marko glanced at David. "I thought only girls went to the toilet together?"
David smiled. "They go everywhere together."
They heard a scuffling in the distance, then laughter and faint voices. The talk died down, then a soft moan floated on the cool air, and a breathy, "Paul..."
Marko swallowed, feeling a sudden sweep of warmth that had nothing to do with embarrassment. He glanced at David, who was watching him enigmatically. There was another moan, then a chuckle, and the sound of the nearby waves didn't quite cover up Dwayne's muttered, "Damn cocktease. We can't..." A murmur. "Paul, he's just over there. We..." The voice was suddenly muffled, and Marko was pretty sure it was because Paul had decided silence Dwayne's protests by kissing him.
"Does it bother you?"
He looked at David. "Them... being together?" David nodded. Marko thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. They really care about each other--I can tell."
"Not going to condemn the sodomites to hellfire and brimstone?"
"You know, that's one part of the Bible I've been over a good bit." He shrugged sheepishly. "Teenagers will find the racy passages in any book, right? I've come to the conclusion that the Sodomites weren't so much punished for their sexual choices, but because they wanted to force themselves on the travelers who had taken refuge in the city. The culture was very, very strict about hospitality, and how you treated visitors back then."
"I can see that."
"But you know what gets me? The travelers, angels in disguise, are staying with Lot. When the men of Sodom come and demand to be given the strangers, Lot offers them his daughters instead, and I don't recall the angels making a big fuss trying to stop him."
David blinked. "You're shitting me."
"No. He figured it would be better to have his two virgin daughters gang raped rather than allow travelers to be molested. Now, I'd be against giving up the visitors, too, but I DAMN sure would have tried to think of another way around it. I think it was one of those 'I probably won't make you go through with this hideous sacrifice, but if you aren't willing to go through with it, then you don't love me' things."
"That's kind of twisted."
"That's why there are so many different interpretations of the Bible, and why they'll be debating long after we're all dust."
Marko's eyes had drifted back to the wooden columns that hid the two lovers *Yes,* he thought, *I know Ruth would call them queers, fornicators, Sodomites, sinners... But lovers is the right word for Dwayne and Paul.* Marko felt lonely most of the time, but right now, with another boy--possibly a friend--sitting just a couple of feet away--he felt lonelier than ever. He looked over at David again. "Does it bother YOU?" David raised an eyebrow. "No, I can tell that them both being guys isn't an issue. I mean..." He trailed off, unsure of how to say it--unsure if he should say it.
"You mean does it bother me that they're together, and I'm not with anyone?" David sat forward a little, studying Marko. "I'm not sure I should tell you this. I don't want to run you off, but if you hang with us, you ought to know how things stand." He paused, then said, "We're a little more outside the mainstream concept of sexuality than you know so far, Marko. Yes, Dwayne and Paul are a couple--I guess you could say they're mated, since the officious pricks don't allow same sex marriages. They're a couple, but they aren't always JUST a couple--sometimes we're a trio." He leaned back, waiting for Marko's reaction.
Marko digested this new bit of information. That WAS a revelation, no two ways about it. But did it bother him? No. The three boys fit together so seamlessly, each supplying the other's needs. While it was obvious that David had been telling the truth about Paul and Dwayne being bonded, he found that he had no trouble imagining that David could be a part of that. If David was to get up and walk over to that shadowy area, Marko knew that welcoming arms would reach out and draw him in. *But he's not a full part,* he thought. *He's still on the perimeter, looking in.* "I'm glad you have friends who are good to you, but it isn't the same as having SOMEONE, so I'll ask you again--does it bother you?"
"I'm happy for them. I wouldn't want it to be any other way between them. But... Yeah, sometimes."
Dwayne and Paul came back, their arms around each other, hands tucked in the back pockets of each other's jeans. "Sorry," said Dwayne. "Got, uh, distracted."
"Yeah," said Paul cheerfully, "but since we figured you two would probably distract each other, we... Ow!" Dwayne had popped him on the back of the head.
Marko blushed furiously. He hadn't been all that uncomfortable discussing sex with David. After all, he'd never really had a chance to talk out his feelings, and it was great being able to speak to someone who wasn't going to slap him silly while screeching about his immortal soul. But... him and David? He wasn't really surprised by the flash of mental images and the sudden surge of heat, but he HAS surprised by the intensity.
Marko had known he was attracted to men for years--since his early teens, when he'd begun having wet dreams. Ruth refused to believe that he had no control over waking up with a sticky mess, and had ladled out the punishment with a heavy hand, till John had taken him aside and explained what was happening, and how to avoid his grandmother's wrath. He'd quickly learned to sleep with a face cloth stuffed down the front of his pajamas. All he had to do then was rinse the cloth out early in the morning and claim it had been used for his shower. Marko had been puzzled by Ruth's insistence that he 'keep his mind off those filthy hoors'. When he could remember a few snatches of dreams, they hadn't included any women. "I need to go."
Marko scrambled to his feet, and Dwayne said, "Way to go, doofus. You've run him off."
"No," Marko protested, "I really need to get to the bus before they come back to the hotel. If I'm not where I'm supposed to be she might make me sleep on the floor in her room."
David had stood up. "Doesn't trust you much, does she?"
Marko gave him a lopsided grin. "Should she? I'm here now, and she expected me to go right back to the motel, right?"
"But you're not DOING anything," Dwayne protested.
"To her I am."
"How far is it? I'll give you a ride over," said David. Marko hesitated. "C'mon. It's been awhile since I had anyone else on my bike."
Now Marko looked interested. "You have a motorcycle?"
"Ah, now he perks up. Yes, we all do. You like bikes?"
"I love them. Oh, man, I want one so bad. My dad had one, and he used to take me riding all the time." His expression fell. "He got rid of it because he thought it would be more responsible if he had a car, another brick in the wall to keep my grandmother away from me. That was the car we were in when we got hit."
David looked at him sharply. "You better not be blaming yourself about that."
"No," Marko said softly. "I did, for awhile. Then I talked to John about it, and he said that the only person who's fault it could be was the truck driver's, and since he died, too, we'd never know if it was from negligence or if something went wrong. It's just that sometimes sad things happen in this world." The other boys all nodded, and each one had shadows in his eyes. Marko had a feeling that they were all well acquainted with the pain the world could inflict.
"So," David said, "Ride?"
Marko hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to think about the storm it would raise if Ruth saw him on a motorcycle with what she would consider 'a punk on the fast track to Hell'. But he was remembering the times he'd ridden with his father--head heavy with the helmet that was just a little too big, feeling the powerful throb of the engine, watching the pavement fly by, but feeling safe, because he was braced between his father's strong arms, and his father would never let anything hurt his boy. "Yeah, thanks. I'd like that."
The walked out onto the beach, then over to the parking lot. Marko admired the three bikes, all sleek, beautiful, and powerful. *Sort of like their owners,* he thought, watching the trio mount their rides. *And it's a good thing Ruth can't read my mind, even if she thinks she can, because those sort of thoughts would probably get me locked in a closet when I wasn't on stage.*
"Don't just stand there," David invited. "Climb on." Marko straddled the bike, settling his hands lightly on David's shoulders, and the other boy said, "Hell, man, I'll lose you at the first bump. Grab on!"
Marko shifted closer, till his chest was pressed to David's back, and slid his arms around David's waist. He locked his hands just over David's belly, and rested his chin on his shoulder. "How's this?"
"Oh, yeah--that's what I'm talkin' about. Let's go, boys. We wanna get Prince Charming home before the Wicked Witch of the East shows up and starts pitching great balls of fire."
Marko couldn't hold back his laughter as they rolled out of the lot and hit the street, accelerating into the night.
Chapter Five
Marko gave directions as they drove. When they reached the block that held the motel, Marko tapped David on the shoulder. "Pull over." David did, and Dwayne and Paul pulled up behind them. Marko peered down the street, squinting at the parking lot. "I don't see the station wagon, but I'd better hoof it from here."
"Are you sure?" asked David. He smiled faintly. "A gentleman always takes his dates to their doors."
The other two boys snickered, and Marko pursed her lips. "That wasn't a date."
"So let's make one. Tomorrow night?"
Marko paused, but not because he didn't want to see David again. "I don't know. I might have to do something." David was silent, hands twisting on the handlebars. "I mean it--she may have something for me to do. I'm not just trying to blow you off."
"I know. What time do they usually go to bed?"
Marko thought. "They're still tired after this last leg. Ruth will probably be in bed by ten, and she won't get up for anything but gunshots or fire."
"You're sure?"
"John was always the one who got up when I had the screaming mimis in the night."
David considered. "Try to get out. Head toward the boardwalk, and I can pick you up around the corner. We'll go see a movie."
Marko felt himself beginning to smile at the thought. "Yeah? Which one? The only one Ruth would let me see that was listed on the marquee at the theater we passed was The Brave Little Toaster."
David put a hand over his eyes for a moment. "No, I DON'T think so. We'll decide when we get there."
Marko hesitated again, blushing. "I'd like to, but I can't afford it." He pointedly jingled the change in his pocket.
David frowned. "Don't insult me, man. I said date, right? That means I pay."
Marko stared at him. *He really wants to go out with me?* "You're serious?"
Paul said, "Nah, he isn't serious all that often, but he DOES mean it."
"How about it?" David asked. "You coming?"
Marko nodded. "If I can. If I don't show..."
"It's not your fault. Don't worry about it. You have another few days here, right?" He throttled the engine up. "You'll see me again." He turned the bike, and the three Lost Boys pulled away. As the turned the corner, their engines roared, and Marko could hear laughter and whoops rising on the night air. Marko watched them disappear, then turned reluctantly and began to make his way back to the motel.
He'd just gotten on the bus when he saw the station wagon enter the block. Marko sat quickly, turning on the little lamp that was clipped above one of the back seats, and grabbing his Bible. As the station wagon pulled in beside the bus, he suddenly remembered the sunglasses. He jerked them off as John and Ruth got out of the car. Looking around as he folded them one-handed, he tried to figure out where to hide them. There just didn't seem anywhere likely, and Ruth was coming toward the bus door. Just as she started up the two steps, he dropped them down the front of his shirt and opened his Bible, bending his head over it. Ruth came down the aisle, with John right behind her. Marko looked up, blinking innocently. "Did you two have a nice dinner?"
"It was free of charge." She held out her hand expectantly. Marko dug the change out of his pocket and trickled it into her palm. She counted it quickly, then gave him a suspicious look. "Not much here."
Marko shrugged. "You know how much they gouge at places around a tourist attraction."
"When did you get back?"
*Hell. Do I have to get the third degree every damn day?* "I'm not sure--I wasn't paying attention." He lifted the Bible slightly. "Been busy."
"How many verses have you memorized tonight?"
"Ruth," John said quietly, "You ought to give the boy some time off. He has more verses memorized than anyone else I've ever met."
"It's not enough," she said bluntly. "You know very well that there have been others who memorized the entire Bible. I see no reason why he can't."
"But isn't it more important that he UNDERSTAND the words, rather than just being able to parrot them?" The look she turned on him was so hard and cold that he flinched.
"I'd love to be able to just take a couple of days and..." Marko trailed off as Ruth turned that same hard gaze on him. Then he lifted his chin slightly. "I think I've earned it."
"Ephesians Nine." When Marko just stared at her, she repeated herself, voice snapping. "Ephesians Nine, Mark. Verses one through three."
Marko closed his eyes, sifting quickly through the vast collection of Bible verses stored in his mind. He grimaced. Trust her to come up with that one. Reluctantly he said, "Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise; that it may be well with thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth." She was nodding grimly. Then Marko shot her a glance and continued. "And, ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath: but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."
She smiled, but it was more like an animal baring its teeth. "Servants, be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in singleness of your heart."
Marko found that he was almost trembling with anger. "Servant?"
"She didn't mean it like that, Mark," said John placatingly.
"Oh, that's EXACTLY how she meant it, John."
Ruth stood up, saying blandly, "I meant it in the sense that you are a servant of God, Mark. As is John, and even as am I. You've just never accepted it. You need to settle into your place, or you'll never be happy." Her eyes narrowed. "I can PROMISE you that you won't be happy if you try to step out of your place."
John put a hand on her arm, saying quietly, "Verse nine. And, ye masters, do the same things unto them, forbearing threatening."
Her head jerked, and she glared at him. Then she pushed past him and made her way off the bus without another word. "Oh, Grandpa," said Marko. "I appreciate it, but you're going to hear about this."
John shrugged. "I don't speak up enough for you, Mark--I know that." He smiled weakly. "Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll lock me out."
Mark snorted. "When it comes to inflicting physical discomfort as opposed to emotional discomfort, you know where her choice is going to lie. You don't have to walk into that. Stay here tonight. If the bed is too cramped, I can sleep on one of the seats. I have plenty of times before."
"No, son." He patted the boy's shoulder. "You're going to need to get your rest. Besides," he sighed, "it'll only be worse if I try to avoid it." Marko nodded sympathetic agreement, and watched his grandfather make his way off the bus. The older man paused at the door to Ruth's room, hand on the knob, and Marko saw his shoulders slump wearily. Then something happened.
The next door opened, and Luther peeked out, then called quietly to John. The change was instantaneous. John's head came up. In the sickly outside lights made him look jaundiced, but it couldn't disguise the brightness of the gentle smile that broke across his face. He walked over to Luther and they conversed for a few moments.
Luther was barefooted, wearing a plain white Fruit of the Loom undershirt, and he was hugging himself, as if chilled. They spoke earnestly, Luther's eyes darting toward the room John shared with Ruth. John rested his hands on Luther's shoulders, as if making a point. As he spoke he let his hands slide down till he was gripping the smaller man's upper arms. Luther glanced over John's shoulder, toward the bus, and said something. John rubbed Luther's arms for a second, then patted him briskly and let his hands drop. Both men looked back toward the bus.
Marko turned off the reading light. He hated it that John didn't feel like he could show any form of closeness in front of Marko. Marko knew that Luther was his grandfather's best friend--perhaps his only friend. He also suspected that there was a little more than friendship there. That was fine by him. John deserved SOMEONE good in his life, and Luther was a great guy. Luther stepped back into his room. John stood staring at the closed door for a moment, reaching out to touch it lightly. Then he turned wearily and entered his own room.
Marko sat in the dark for a little while, thinking. He remembered the first time he'd realized that there was something more than friendship between his grandfather and the group's piano player. It had been right about two years before. Marko had known that the two men were close. They spent hours together, practicing and working on arrangements, and Marko noticed that his grandfather was always more relaxed after he'd spent time with Luther.
They had been in... He frowned. Illinois? Yes--Chicago. It had been the dead of winter, with fresh snow falling every day. Of course 'fresh' was only a relative term when applied to snow in a city like Chicago. It seemed grungy almost before it hit the ground, and it turned to slush quickly, churned by pedestrians and cars. It was close to Christmas. Marko was sulking as much as he dared. He'd been lobbying for a vacation most of the year, but Ruth, as usual, had them booked solid. She wasn't about to give up the fat fees they could command for Christmas Eve and Christmas day performances.
The good thing was that Ruth didn't like the cold weather, never going outside their rented rooms unless she absolutely had to. It was the closest thing to freedom that anyone in the gospel group had experienced for ages. Luther and John had said they were going to the city library, which was within walking distance, even considering the weather. They offered to take Marko along, but he'd said that he wanted to stay in and read a book that belonged to his current roommate. It was a sword-and-sorcery fantasy--one that Ruth would have wanted to burn as Satan inspired.
After a few minutes, though, he'd begun to feel guilty. He could sneak illicit literature any night, but there weren't all that many times he could spend time with John without having to worry about Ruth coming along and spoiling it. He put on his winter gear and trudged to the library. The building was huge and quiet, the books lining the walls seeming to act as bafflers, absorbing sound. Shadows seemed to gather in the corners.
Marko stopped at the front desk and described the two men, and one of the librarians mentioned that she thought they were back by the newspaper section. That was a cluster of comfortable looking chairs, gathered around several racks, which held a variety of newspapers threaded on long, split bamboo holders, which kept the pages together, and unrumpled. At the moment there seemed to be only one elderly gentleman, perusing a copy of The Village Voice, but Marko walked back anyway. There were several parallel racks of periodicals to the side, and the men he was looking for might be browsing there.
He walked beside the aisles, his footsteps hushed by the carpet that had been laid down for exactly that purpose. A magazine cover caught his eye. It was some sort of entertainment magazine--the sort that Ruth considered to be such a waste of money and time--but Ruth wasn't here right now. Marko paused and took down the magazine. There was an article inside about Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome, and Mel Gibson dominated the cover. Dominated seemed the right word. He was dressed in dusty, scuffed leather, chin rough with stubble, and his icy blue eyes seemed to look right through Marko.
He wasn't sure exactly what it was that caught his attention--a scrape, a sigh, perhaps a soft murmur. He knew he should mind his own business, but... He had so little contact with the outside world, and he was curious. Silently, he leaned over and peeked around the corner.
They were standing at the far end, where the racks came up flat against the wall. The still wore their coats (no one in their right minds would leave a good coat just laying around in public in a city like Chicago), but they were open. They were holding each other, and their arms were inside the open garments, as if they couldn't bear to have that extra layer of cloth separating them. Luther had his head resting on John's chest, and his eyes were closed. John was stroking Luther's hair, and his expression was more peaceful than Marko could remember ever seeing it. Then he reached down, took Luther's chin in his hand, tipped his face up, and softly kissed the younger man.
Mark very quietly pulled back, then just as quietly replaced the magazine and went back to the hotel. He had a lot to think about. It wasn't long before he decided that it not only made sense, but seemed right. John was happy when he was with Luther, and you certainly couldn't say that about the time he spent with Ruth.
Marko smiled a little at the memory. *I have to talk him into coming with me when I leave,* Marko thought. *We could do all right together. I'm sure Uncle Gene would put us up till we could get on our feet. Maybe Luther could come, too. Yeah, Luther would HAVE to come. But I bet Gene could help those two find some sort of work with music. If not... I'm pretty sure John would be willing to wash dishes and live in a cracker box if it got him away from the woman who's made his life miserable for almost forty years.*
As Marko went back into the cramped sleeping area, he thought, *And let's see how much business she can keep going when it's just her singing on her own.* He found himself smiling, knew it wasn't a NICE smile, and didn't care at all.
Marko stripped to his jockeys, and left the door open. Why not? No one was going to come on the bus--not until morning, anyway, and he knew he'd be up before Ruth. He lay there for a bit, then got up and went back to the seat Ruth had occupied earlier in the day. He grabbed a large handful of the special soft tissues that she favored--and didn't like sharing, then went back and laid down.
He lay in the dark, staring up at the low ceiling. The streetlights filtered through the many bus windows, then through the open door. If there had been anyone to look, they would have seen the boy's body silvered by moonlight. He stroked the fly of his jockeys almost idly, then pushed them down. Despite Ruth's suspicions of his carnal nature, Marko didn't masturbate very often--usually only when something he had seen during the day gave him inspiration.
He pushed his waistband down, easing his half-hard member free, and began to touch himself slowly--almost thoughtfully. He closed his eyes and replayed certain things in his mind. Cool darkness, the sound of waves and scent of brine, the sharp malty taste of the alcohol on his tongue, and...
Whispers, sighs, moans... A voice rough with passion. *Cocktease. We can't... But they did, didn't they? Oh, yes, they did. What did they do?*
Marko had only the roughest idea of what might go on between two men. He wasn't formally informed, but he wasn't naive--or ignorant. He knew there were only so many physical possibilities between two men, and given the time limit and place when Dwayne and Paul had been together, it was more limited still. He pictured Paul pinning Dwayne against the piers, reaching into the smaller boy's unzipped jeans, caressing him. Perhaps he opened his own jeans, then pressed against him, moving, sliding hot, hard flesh together. Maybe they simply gripped each other, stroking their partner to a mutual satisfaction. As he imagined each scenario, Marko's own member thickened and lengthened till his hand was full of firm, slick, eager flesh.
As his climax approached, he carefully wrapped the wad of tissue around the weeping head of his erection. He turned his thoughts to David--imagined him sliding across the sand, pushing him back and crawling over him. He could almost feel the heavy press of solid muscle, and his lips parted, as if begging for a kiss, as he shuddered, and came.
After a moment he made sure that no drops of sperm had escaped the tissue trap, then tucked the was into a hamburger wrapper, stuffed the ball into a paper bag, and wadded that up, and deposited the whole thing in the litter bag that hung on the wall. He pulled his jockeys back into position, reflecting that it was ridiculous that an almost grown man had to take such precautions.
He was about to drop off to sleep when he felt a flicker of... He wasn't sure exactly what. It was a prickly sensation, the sort of thing one might feel, then turn around and find someone staring at them. He propped himself up on his elbows, staring through the door, through the bus, out at the night. *Nothing. I really need to get away from Ruth. She makes me paranoid.* He lay back down, and was soon asleep. There was a shifting in the shadows near the corner of the motel. If someone had an infrared scope, they MIGHT have been able to make out the three figures, but the Lost Boys were very good at going unnoticed--when they wanted to.
Paul whispered, "Damn."
Dwayne said, "Yeah, bonus time. I didn't think we'd get a show."
"I seriously doubt that bus door is locked," Paul commented. "And people have a tendency to mind their own business around here."
Dwayne shook his head. "You've got three or four or more fairly clean living gospel musicians right there. I think that if they hear a squeak, they'll come running."
"So? It's not like we couldn't handle them if they did. Nothing has to happen on the bus, anyway. We could get in, get the songbird, get out, and be back at the cliffs in no time."
"Yeah? Suppose he objects? Kind of hard to carry a reluctant passenger on a bike, Paul."
Paul shrugged. "David hide his bike and fly him out. What do you say, David?" David was silent, still staring toward the bus. "David? You want this one, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I want this one, but not tonight. Not like that." He looked at his chosen brothers. "It has to be like you two. He has to want it."
"David," said Paul hesitantly. "I know he's been friendly, but..." Paul gestured at the logo painted on the side of the bus. The word Glory reflected the moonlight. "You know what he comes from. What if he doesn't want it?"
David looked back at the bus, and red embers flared in his eyes. "He'll want it." He breathed deeply. "I can smell it."
Chapter Six
Notes: Cristy (Christy) Lane is a well-known gospel singer, whose best-known songs are probably Footprints In The Sand, and One Day At A Time.
John and Luther were up before the others, as usual. They found Marko sitting cross-legged on the hood of the bus, watching the sun make its way up the sky.
John was still feeling stressed after the dressing down, then cold silence he'd received from Ruth the night before, but seeing his two favorite people still brought a smile to his face. Then he saw Marko's expression, and thought, *No one that young should look that serious. My God, the boy isn't even eighteen, and he has such old eyes. He's lost so much of his childhood, and if Ruth has any say in it, he'll lose the rest of his life to her--just like I did.* "What has you so solemn so early?"
Marko looked down at the two men, and smiled. "Just thinking." He slid down off his perch, landing lightly. "Going for breakfast?"
Luther sighed. "I know I should economize, but honestly, I can't face another donut and coffee breakfast."
"I know a good place down at the boardwalk. Let me join you, and I'll clue you in."
"Good food and good company. What more could a man ask for? Is it nearby, or do we need to take the station wagon?"
"We COULD walk it, but why don't we take the station wagon? Maybe Ruth will want to go somewhere, and we can tick her off."
Luther laughed. "You have an evil mind, and you're going to hell."
Marko's smile faded slightly. "When you say that, I know you're teasing me. With Ruth..."
John put his hand on Marko's shoulder. "Let's not think about her right now," he said quietly, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "After all," his voice lightened, "we don't want to spoil our appetites."
Marko tuned the radio to a rock and roll station as they drove to the pancake house. Luther and John smiled indulgently as Marko sank into the music, nodding and shifting his shoulders slightly to the beat. He didn't know much of the music, since he was so seldom able to listen to anything but gospel, but he was a quick study.
At the restaurant, the waitress had a smile for Marko. "Back so soon?"
He gestured toward the others as they took their seat. "And I brought you more business."
She laughed, then said flirtatiously, "You can give me the business any time."
They made their order. After she left, John said teasingly, "Looks like you have an admirer, Mark." Marko shrugged.
Luther said, "I'm not surprised. You're a handsome, charming young man, Marko. You'd have your pick of girls--under other circumstances." Marko shrugged. "No, I mean it. I've seen how the girls at the fellowships and at the shows watch you. God will forgive me for saying this, but not all the fervor in their eyes is because of the message you bring." He hesitated, and his voice was a little worried as he said, "It isn't that you aren't... that your sincerity isn't..."
Marko waved. "Don't apologize, Luther. Maybe you didn't mean it, but it's true. Most of the time when I'm singing it's the music and emotion that carries me--not conviction. Do you suppose it bothers God much that I'm thinking mostly about pitch and rhythm when I sing His music, and not the message?"
"I... Mark, I didn't mean..."
"I know, Luther. Don't be upset. I don't need someone else to question my vocation--I do that myself."
"It's too nice a morning for heavy thoughts," John broke in. "We were talking about the fact that you're too much alone, and you shouldn't have to be. I need to talk to Ruth about letting you date," he smiled, "so you can find yourself a girl."
Marko looked at John, then said quietly, "It doesn't bother me, John."
John looked puzzled. "But Mark, aren't you lonely?"
"I didn't say I wasn't lonely. I just mean that... I don't feel the need to start dating," he hesitated briefly, "girls." There was a moment of silence. The two older men exchanged glances, then looked back at Marco warily. "Not everyone chases women," he said. "Some people have reasons--good reasons. Some people have never had a woman give them any good reason to make the pursuit attractive."
"Mark--I don't know what to say," said John helplessly.
Mark reached over and patted John's arm, then Luther's. "We don't have to talk about this now. I just wanted you to know... I just wanted you to know." He smiled. "And I AM meeting people my age. I met some last night."
"Nice boys?" asked Luther.
"I like them. They seem to like me." He bit his lip. "I don't think they'd hurt me."
"Good," said John. "That's important. You shouldn't be hurt, Mark." His eyes were sad. "Life has hurt you enough."
*That's John,* Marko thought. *He's been being kicked in the teeth most of his life, but he only sees other people's problems.* "Don't worry about me." He smiled tightly. "It won't be for much longer, right? I have my birthday in four months. I'll be eighteen, and then she has nothing -- NOTHING -- to say to me."
John sighed. "God, boy, I wish I'd had your strength when I was younger. Things would have turned out much differently. But I can't entirely regret what I've been through." He laid his hand over Luther's looking at him warmly. "Some pains are worth going through for what waits on the other side."
The waitress came back with part of their order, and Luther quickly moved his hand, reaching for his water glass. John shook out his napkin, laying it across his lap. There was no hurt from the sudden distancing in his expression--only sad understanding. Marko felt a pang. It sucked that two such gentle men didn't dare to express their love in public.
As they ate, John said, "Well, we have a real treat today. Ruth is going to be gone, and we can't set up till Sunday afternoon."
Marko drizzled syrup on his pancakes. "What's going to keep her out of our hair?"
"Oh, I don't know. Something legal, and she's going to be meeting with some of the church ladies. I really don't care--I'm just grateful for the breathing space.
"Something legal? That could be anything. I'd say you should have found out what she's up to, but I know her--she doesn't tell anything unless she's ready to."
John took a sip of coffee. "Well, what does it matter? It isn't as if she can sink her claws any deeper. She has her name on all the papers. If we were a few centuries back, I would have been the chattel." He sighed. "I don't mind all that much. I've never wanted a lot--just a full belly, clothes on my back, some sort of bed with a roof over it, and the chance to sing." He glanced at Luther. "And someone to care about me, and let me take care of them." He looked at Marko. "It took me most of my life, but I finally have all that. So, we're free men today. What are you going to do, Marko?"
"I think I'll just hang around the boardwalk. People watch."
Luther took out his walled and removed a couple of bills, offering them to Marko. "Here."
"I can't take that, Luther--I know what she pays you."
Luther laid the money on the table in front of Marko, putting away his wallet. "Take it. Just consider it an early birthday present. A boy like you shouldn't have to go to someone for every dime. If there was any justice, Marko, you'd have been on salary a long time ago. We all know that you're the lynchpin of the group."
Marko's denial was immediate. "No, Luther! John..."
"Marko," said John firmly. "He's right. I was the focus for a long, long time. I didn't mind too much, since all I had to do was sing. She tried to make me an evangelist, but even she gave up--and you know how stubborn that woman is. You became the group's focus the moment you joined us, and the only time you HAVEN'T been was when your voice was changing. A child with the kind of tone and power you had is next door to a prodigy, even without your recitation abilities. And now..." he waved at Marko, "take a look at yourself, son. You're young, handsome, and talented. That's what draws people, and as much as some might deny it, our business is still show business--at least in a way. Why do you think Ruth was so hot to get her hands on you?"
"I thought it was mainly because she simply can't stand to see anyone living out from under her thumb."
Luther almost choked on a sip of water, but it was from laughter. John patted him on the back, offering him a handkerchief. "You're a very perceptive boy. I'll grant you that's most of it--the driving force. If that woman could manage it, she'd rule the world." His expression hardened. "She has ambition and ruthlessness to rival Lucifer's own. Marko, I never told you this--I was too ashamed of myself for not doing anything. Do you know the reason your mama ran away?"
"Ruth didn't approve of Dad, and wouldn't let them get married."
"That's true, as far as it goes. But if that's all that it was, Mary could have just stayed put till she turned eighteen, then did as she liked. Marko, Ruth had chosen a husband for her. She hand picked an up-and-coming young evangelist, and arranged it all with the boy's father--who is just as bad as she is, from what I've seen. They agreed that with his preaching and her singing, they could gain international fame." His smile was sour. "I think they believed they were going to have something like what would have happened if Billy Graham had married Cristy Lane. I also think that both of them were secretly thinking that THEY were going to be the one running things behind the scenes. Lord, wouldn't that have been a soap opera?"
Marko frowned. "An arranged marriage? I can't believe... No, wait--this is Ruth we're talking about. Of course it's possible--with her."
"She knew Mary was in love with your daddy, but Mary was still under age, and couldn't get married without parental permission. I could have signed the papers for her, and they probably would have been able to go ahead and marry--back then the father still had the most weight in a decision about their minor child. God forgive me, I just didn't have the guts to stand up for my baby girl."
"She understood, John," Marko assured him. "She never said a word against you. She loved you a lot."
He nodded. "But it doesn't change the fact that I didn't do anything, not even when Ruth fired your daddy and ordered him to stay away. She said that if he came around, she'd charge him with indecency with a minor, since he was over twenty-one. He wouldn't give up, though. So one night your mama just up and disappeared." He smiled. "She managed to send me word through one of the band members. They got married in Las Vegas, then hid out. Ruth filed charges, but I had a private talk with the detective in charge, and he sort of put the case on the back burner. By the time they were located, Mary was of age, and you were well on the way." He smiled. "You've heard of a hissy fit?"
"Yes, but I don't think I've ever actually seen one."
"You would have if you'd been there when Ruth got the word there was nothing she could do. He smiled nostalgically. "I had a hard time keeping the grin off my face, but I didn't care to be the next target, so I managed. She was so angry..." he started chuckling, and it grew stronger as he tried to finish the sentence, "she... she... she puh-punished them..." Luther started laughing, too. Apparently he knew what John was getting at. "She wanted to... to make them suffer, so... Luther, I can't." He sat back, covering his eyes as his big body shook.
Luther had a little more control. "She punished your parents by refusing to speak or contact them for the next few years."
The waitress wondered what sort of joke could have gotten all three of the men howling with laughter. She came over and refilled the coffee cups, saying. "Tell me--I could use a good laugh."
Marko wiped his eyes, grinning at her. "It's sort of a private joke. You have to know the whole history to get it."
She gave him a teasing smile. "Well, then I wish I'd been around, so I could understand."
His smile faded. "No," he said seriously. "Really, you don't."
Chapter Eight
They stopped talking about Ruth, and the rest of the meal passed pleasantly. When they were done, it was agreed that Luther and John had better get the station wagon back to the motel. Ruth was going to want it, and there was no point in irritating her any more than was necessary. Marko decided to walk on the boardwalk for a while. Hopefully Ruth would be gone by the time he returned, and he'd be free of her till later in the afternoon.
They said good-bye, and Marko once again strolled the boardwalk. Since it was Saturday, it was almost as busy as it had been the night before, but somehow it was different. Last night it had been sort of exotic, though Marko supposed that might have just been him. He certainly hadn't gone to such places much in his lifetime. Without the darkness, and the flash of lights it seemed...prosaic.
He noticed that most of the fliers they'd handed out had been placed in very obscure sections of the storefront windows, ripped down, or simply not put up. He didn't blame them. Ruth always made it sound like putting up the free advertising was a moral obligation instead of a favor. The flier was still up at the video store, though. He remembered that the boys had come out of the back room with the owner. Maybe they were there. In any case, it was worth a shot.
They weren't there, and neither was the owner. The clerk said that yes, he knew who Marko was asking after, but they never came in during the day--none of them. "But they drop around most nights." Marko knew he couldn't remain there all day. He had to check in back at the motel. If he wasn't there when Ruth returned from wherever she'd gone, there'd be hell to pay, but he still wanted to see a bit more.
The comic book store caught his eye, though, so he decided to check it out before he left. Comics were a relatively safe buy. They were easy to hide, and he knew that one of the musicians would be willing to claim that they were his, even reading them in Ruth's presence to bolster the illusion. He went inside.
At first he thought that the two people behind the counter were modern art. He'd seen pictures in art books that featured hyper realistic mannequins--security guards, housewives, people sleeping on benches... He thought someone had decided to do a sixties grouping. He stepped to the counter slowly, watching them carefully. He MIGHT have seen a flicker of movement, but then that could have been a trick caused by the faint wisps of smoke from the incense that was burning on the counter in front of them.
He scanned the room, but didn't see anyone else. Surely they wouldn't have left the place empty while it was sitting open? What if these were real people, but they'd... He didn't know--had heart attacks? Been bashed in the head and propped back up? *Or more likely taken some sort of drug overdose,* he thought. *I'd better check, in case they need an ambulance.* He started to lean over the counter, reaching toward them. He wasn't quite sure what he planned to do--poke, pat, shake...
"Hands off, dude." The voice was sharp, and Marko whirled, heart thumping. He'd been POSITIVE there was no one else in the store. He'd been double wrong. There were two faces peering at him suspiciously over a rack. They must have been down behind it. As they came around the side, he noted that they were both carrying stacks of slim, brightly colored comic books. They'd either been doing some heavy duty browsing, or had been working with the stock.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to check... I was worried they might need help."
Both of the boys were wearing what looked like Army Surplus clothing, with rolled bandana as headbands. The dark haired one said, "Looks like we have a Good Samaritan, Edgar."
"Don't know about that, Alan." The brown haired boy spoke in a low voice, almost a monotone. "Good Samaritans help people who actually NEED help."
Alan had gone behind the counter. He pulled a small, polished piece of metal out of his pocket and held it in front of the nose of first the woman, then the man. Marko could see a faint fog appear on the shining surface. Alan tucked the metal back in his pocket. "No one needing help here."
"Yeah, well, I sure couldn't tell that from here," Marko assured them.
The two boys exchanged significant looks, and Marko had the feeling that they were exchanging non-verbal communication at a breakneck speed. Finally Edgar gave a minute nod, then went back and began placing books on the rack. "You're new in town," said Alan. "But you look familiar." His eyes narrowed. "No one's looking for you?"
"Not unless my grandmother has decided I've had too much free time."
"You sure? I keep thinking I've seen you on a wanted poster."
"Gee, thanks, but not quite." Marko stepped over to the door and tapped the flier that was taped to the door.
Alan came over and closely studied the picture. "So, you're Mark Tallmadge."
"No, I'm Marko Blackman." He got another suspicious look, but he was beginning to believe this was just natural for these two. "That's sort of a stage name."
An eyebrow went up. "An alias."
"Whatever. It's just not really me."
Edgar was nodding wisely. "There are a lot of people in Santa Carla who aren't what they look like," he pronounced.
This was beginning to get a bit surreal. "What about you guys?"
"We're exactly what we look like," Alan assured him. "We're the Frogs."
Marko blinked. "You're a singing group?"
There was a flicker of puzzlement in the boys' eyes, then their stoic expressions showed irritation. "It's our name," Alan grated.
"Oh. Gotcha. Look, are you guys open for business?"
"The door would have been locked if we weren't," said Alan. He lifted his chin challengingly. "You a collector?"
"Not yet, but maybe soon. It wouldn't do me any good to try to collect--Mother Ruth would throw them out."
Edgar looked up from his work. "We get a lot of that. Parents decide to clean up, maybe think their kids are too old for them..."
"Yeah, well, Mother Ruth is just a bitch." There was a moment of silence. The Frogs weren't exactly shocked, but they were surprised. Marko continued, "Though I expect she probably WOULD use the excuse about when I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things, but it would be an excuse. So, is it okay if I look around?" Alan gave him an ironic half-bow, and seemed a little put out when Marko returned it before going deeper into the store and beginning to browse.
Marko selected several horror comic books from the seventies--inexpensive, but they looked interesting. He'd always been interested in horror. He remembered sitting in his living room, safely perched between his parents, eating popcorn as he watched the black and white flickers of the classic monsters--Frankenstein and his Bride, the Werewolf, the Mummy, Dracula. Ruth, of course, would have none of that around. Marko admitted that there was plenty of horror and monsters in the Bible, if you looked at it that way. There was plague, slaughter, and bloody murder. There were eaten by dogs, beheaded, and there was even a murder by spike through the skull. But he preferred the cinematic monsters. Perhaps it was blasphemous, but they just seemed to be on a grander scale.
Edgar joined his brother behind the counter as Alan rang Marko up. As the dark brother was sliding Marko's purchases into a bag, Edgar pulled a comic book out from under the counter and offered it to Marko. "How about this one?"
Marko didn't touch it. He was easy going, but he didn't care for hard sell techniques. "No, thanks, I have plenty."
"This is an important book, man. You NEED it," Alan insisted.
"Look, if it's rare, I can't afford it. This pretty much busted me, and I just don't get my hands on disposable cash very often."
"It's not rare," said Edgar, "but it could be vital for your survival."
Marko could feel his expression hardening. "What is it? The Classics Comics Book of Bible Stories? I have enough of that. I trip over Bibles."
"Not that kind of survival. Look at it."
Marko looked at the cover, then blinked. It was titled simply VAMPIRES. He reached out and took the book. The cover was slick and cool, the image somehow stark and baroque at the same time. It was very stylish, done entirely in black, white, and crimson. It depicted a vampire and some ordinary mortal in combat. The man was wielding a stake, the vampire sported nails that looked as sharp as daggers. His snarling face was subtly twisted out of the realm of humanity, with gleaming red eyes, and wicked fangs. Actually, the book looked pretty interesting, but Marko hadn't been lying about the money. He had less than a dollar left--surely not enough to buy this. "I can't afford it."
"You can't afford to be WITHOUT it," said Edgar flatly. "Consider it a survival guide. If you're going to be in Santa Carla any time at all, you need this."
Marko eyed the other two boys warily. "You aren't suggesting what I think you are, are you?"
"Vampires," intoned Alan, "walk among us. All the time around here." He threw an arm over his brother's shoulder. "While others are blind to the menace in our midst, we fight them."
"Riiight." *There are all different kinds of levels of craziness,* thought Marko. *From Mother Ruth control freak obsessive to delusional.* "That's a comfort. But really, I don't have enough money for that."
Edgar slipped the comic into Marko's bag. "Consider it a humanitarian gesture. An innocent like you won't stand a chance unless you wise up."
Marko was tempted to remove the comic and toss it at them, but... It really DID look interesting. He took the bag and started for the door. Just before he went out, he looked back at the Frog brothers and said quietly, "You don't know me. You don't know me at all."
Chapter Nine
Marko enjoyed the walk back to the motel. Santa Carla was a pleasant place. He wouldn't mind living somewhere like here. He thought about David and the others. *I wouldn't mind living here--period. Yeah, this wouldn't be a bad place to settle down. I'm pretty sure I could find a job. After all, California is supposed to be the land of opportunity.*
He went on the bus again, opening the windows to catch a breeze, then made himself comfortable and started reading the comic books. He had intended to start on one about zombies, but he found himself pulling out the vampire book that had been forced on him. The comic was never going to win any awards. The drawing was crude, the dialogue was stilted, and the plotting was rudimentary. Still, there was something compelling about it--powerful. *This thing reads more like an instruction booklet about vampires than a piece of fiction. It's practically a list of signs of vampirism, how to spot a vampire, how to repel a vampire, how to kill a vampire. Kind of interesting, but hardly enough to carry a book.*
The station wagon pulled up, and Marko quickly slipped the comic back into its bag, then tossed the bag over onto another seat. He took up his Bible and opened it at random. He found a short verse and started committing it to memory as Ruth got out of the vehicle. As he had thought she might, she entered the bus, rather than going to her room.
"Mark," she said as she came down the aisle, "I'll admit I'm a little surprised to find you occupying yourself productively. I would have expected you to be doing something frivolous with your free time."
"Your confidence in me is touching, Mother Ruth," he said blandly.
She frowned as she sat down opposite him. "You still need to work on your attitude, boy."
Marko's eyes glinted, but his voice was neutral as he said, "I am, I am."
Ruth grunted, then opened her purse. "I have something I need you to sign." She pulled out a thin sheaf of papers, which were bound together at the top. She flipped to the back page, then pointed. "Sign here and here, and put your initials here."
Marko stared at her. For a moment he considered simply folding his hands under his arms, but then he decided that he NEEDED to find out what this was all about. Ruth had been to see a lawyer, and now she wanted him to sign something that looked official. Yes, this was DEFINITELY something to be looked into. He took the papers and said, "What is this, exactly?"
"It's just something to do with the group." She offered him a pen. "Press down. It's on that automatic carbon paper, but you'll need to use enough force to go through."
"What is it?"
She frowned. "I told you--group business. You don't need to worry about it--I take care of the business."
"Ruth, if there's one thing anyone with half a brain knows, you don't sign anything without reading it."
"Mark, you wouldn't understand it, anyway."
"Then explain it to me."
He could hear her teeth gritting. "Just sign it."
Marko examined the last page, then ran his finger lightly over the surface near the bottom. He brought it close to his face, studying it, then lowered it, staring at Ruth. "Ruth?" His voice was gentle. "This seems to have been notarized already."
She didn't even twitch. "I had it done before I came home, to save time. I had no idea where you were, and there was no point in taking the time and trouble to hunt you down and drag you to a notary. He notarized MY signature, and it will work well enough for yours."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that just the teeniest bit illegal?"
"Mark, this is unimportant--it's just a small thing."
"There are very few small things when it comes to legal papers. If I was to sign this, it would be no good."
"There's... Mark, there is no reason why anyone would bother to question this, and even if they did as long as you agree, there's no problems."
"Okay, here's the thing--what if I don't agree."
"Young man, this is nothing but something to insure your future, now you SIGN IT!" Her voice had taken on the 'I am speaking for the Lord' tone.
*Oh, now I REALLY want to know what this is.* He flipped to the first page and started reading.
"Mark, will you quit wasting time?"
"This doesn't strike me as a waste." He blinked, then looked up at Ruth. "This is a contract."
"I told you it's to assure your future."
He kept reading. "This is a contract for me to work for the director of the Glory Singers--you. A binding contract that says..." he kept reading.
"Mark, sign the papers."
"A ten year contract, with a renewal option--at your discretion. Salary to be five per cent of moneys taken in for appearances, and two per cent royalty on music sales." He looked up at her. "Five per cent, and two per cent. You know, that might ALMOST work out to minimum wage, during a good stretch."
"You don't need more. I'll continue providing your shelter, clothing, and transportation. That's very substantial."
"An occasional motel room, fast food, and a bus. Lavish."
Her face reddened. "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!"
Marko sneered. "That's Shakespeare, Ruth--not the Bible." She slapped him. Marko froze, then one hand crept up to touch the smudge on his cheek. "Careful, Ruth," he said softly. "I have to work tomorrow night. You don't want to leave a mark."
She spoke through clenched teeth. "Sign--the--damn--papers."
"I don't think so. Right now I'm considered a dependent--under your guardianship. In a few months, I'm going to be legally an adult. I'm not about to sign myself over into what would amount to bondage. Besides..." he tossed the papers into her lap, and smirked. "I'm under age--it's doubtful my signature would hold any water, especially if I stated it was coerced. And I WOULD, Ruth. Trust me on that."
"As your guardian, I can make contracts on your behalf."
"One that would benefit you? Don't think so. It would be the same thing. All I'd need to break it would be a lawyer, and believe me, I'd do it. I'd scrub toilets to afford it, and I would instruct them to put you through as much hell as they can."
She was staring at him in near shock. "Boy... you have never spoken to me like that before."
"And you believed I never thought that way? You've got a high opinion of yourself, Ruth. I've been keeping my head down, but now I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, Ruth. I'm getting out of this, and there's nothing you can do about it."
"I could..."
"What? Throw me out?" She was silent. "I didn't think so. You'd better squirrel away all that you can now, Ruth, because once I'm out from under your thumb--you don't get a DIME from me." He leaned over and grabbed the bag off the seat, opened it, and pulled out the vampire comic book. "Now, if you'd excuse me--I'd like to do a little reading." He opened the book and began to read.
She sat there, staring at him, for more than two minutes. Instead of becoming nervous or irritated, Marko felt amused. Ruth could only be hoping to intimidate him with her disapproval, and that just wasn't going to happen. Finally Ruth got up and picked up the discarded paper. She put them in her purse and said stiffly, "I'll talk to you about this again when you're more reasonable."
"I've never been more reasonable in my life." She started toward the bus door. Just before she descended, Marko said, "I suppose it's no use to say this, but don't bother John about it. No matter what he says to me I won't change my mind, because I'll know he's just mouthing your words." He looked up from the book, catching her eyes. "He loves me, and he wants me to be happy. You know what else, Ruth? He just might look at me and realize that if I can break away, so can he. Wouldn't that be a pisser?" Her face contorted with rage, and she turned back toward Marko. Instead of flinching, Marko closed the comic book and laid it aside, sitting forward. His expression was hard. She stopped, studying him. Without another word, she left the bus. Marko called after her, "God grant you the serenity to accept the things you can't change. I won't say let him grant you the strength to change what you can, because you'll walk OVER someone to force a change, but you DAMN sure need the wisdom to know the difference!"
He sat back, and murmured, "Sorry, John. I know you won't resent it, but--sorry."
A little later John came out and went to each of the other two rooms. Marko had a feeling that he was passing on Ruth's directives--probably telling all the musicians that Marko was in disgrace, and was to be shunned until further notice. She'd done it before, knowing that one of Marko's few pleasures was the companionship of the other men. They didn't always obey her, but it had happened often enough to make his life that little bit more uncomfortable. John tossed Marko an apologetic look before he went back into his room, and Marko just shrugged, hoping that John realized that he didn't hold it against him.
That evening Marko watched as Ruth and John came out of their room to go to supper. Ruth sailed to the station wagon, her nose in the air. John was looking strained. *Hm, no invitation. Looks like I'm being punished.* A few minutes after they drove away, Luther came out, looked to be sure that the other two were gone, and came to the bus. "Hey, Luther. Better be careful."
He sighed. "Yes, she said that no one is to speak to you till you have meditated on your disrespect, and listened to the still small voice, telling you to obey your elders."
Marko smiled. "She actually said that?"
Luther returned the smile. "I'm sure she phrased it something like that. Do you have any money left?" Marko indicated the bag of comics. Luther pulled out his wallet and offered him a ten.
"Luther, I don't want to take it. I know you aren't exactly dripping with cash."
"Take it, Marko. I'm not going to see you go hungry."
Marko accepted the bill. "It wouldn't be the first time. You know, it's amazing how often her decision that I need to fast comes right after I've pissed her off somehow." He folded the bill and tucked it in his pocket. "I'll pay you back."
"If you can, but there's no hurry. Will you meet your new friends?"
"I hope so. I didn't see them today, but I get the sense that they aren't around much during the day."
"That's good. I'm glad you're making the effort to get some sort of life outside this... this... artificial pen Ruth has created."
"Yeah, it's a pen, and she was going for an actual prison. Do you know what she was doing at the lawyer's."
Luther's expression tightened. "John told me. Thank God you have good sense, boy, and a backbone."
"Luther..." He sat forward, and put a hand on his arm. "I'm getting out of her ON my birthday--you know that, right?" He nodded. "I don't want to leave John alone with that bitch, but I have no choice. I've got the determination now, but I can't risk staying. That woman has the talent for just sucking everything good out of anyone around her. I've seen it happen to John. I want to get him away from her."
Luther closed his eyes briefly. "Bless you, Mark. He needs to leave. He's a good man, and she won't let him BE a man."
"But you do." Luther's eyes sprang open in alarm, but Mark squeezed his arm reassuringly. "No, Luther, it's all right. We both love him. You'll come, too, right? Things may be a little tight, but we'll be able to make it together. Will you?"
"Of course. Where John goes, I go."
Mark gave him a pat. "What do you think of Santa Carla, Luther?"
"It's a nice place. The people seem very friendly."
Marko's smile was brilliant. "They are. I think maybe this is where I'll come to when I'm finally rid of that witch. I think I'd like to stay here a long, long time."
Chapter Ten
Dwayne gripped Paul's hips. "You ready, babe?"
"Dwayne," the blond boy's voice was a little tense, but amused. "If I was any more ready, this would be over by now. C'mon."
"I'm I this impatient when you fuck me?"
"Nah, you're a model of patience. I just have to be careful when we do it face to face, or I lose handfuls of hair."
Dwayne chuckled, then pushed forward. He'd patiently, lovingly lubricated and stretched Paul, then rested the swollen head of his cock against the slightly open hole before he asked the question. Paul sighed at he felt Dwayne's thick staff sliding deep inside him. "Oh, you are so good, babe."
Dwayne leaned down till his long, dark hair tickled Paul's back. He pressed a kiss to the back of his lover's neck. "You're just easy to please." Paul flexed, and Dwayne groaned. "Damn. Sometimes this is so good, I think I'd die if I wasn't already dead."
"Flatterer."
Dwayne began to fuck, slim hips moving smoothly in shallow strokes. "Anything?"
"Wait..." Paul shifted slightly, angling his pelvis. "Again." Dwayne thrust, and Paul gasped, back arching even more. "Oh, yeah! That's it."
Now that they'd found the right angle, things speeded up. Paul pushed back to meet Dwayne each time he surged forward. The dim room, far back in the bowels of the sunken hotel, was filled with the moist smacks of flesh meeting flesh. There were grunts, and occasional obscene endearments. Paul bent his elbow and rested his forehead on one arm, reaching under himself to grip and stroke his bobbing erection. Dwayne knew that this meant his lover was close to climax, and he redoubled his efforts, slamming into the cool tightness of Paul's ass almost viciously. They often made slow, sweet love, but their vampiric nature occasionally demanded something rougher--darker. It was given and taken with relish, and love.
Paul came with a grunt, his scarlet, blood laced seed splashing over his hand. As the strong muscles of his back passage clenched naturally, Paul bore down, squeezing for all he was worth. Dwayne threw back his head and rode his lover for all he was worth, teeth gritted, trying to eek out another minute of the maddening pleasure. He managed another dozen strokes, and then he was emptying himself into Paul's depths. Face pressed to the mattress, Paul gave a small, secret smile. He never felt so powerful as when he bottomed for Dwayne. Knowing that he could make his lover lose control was a major power rush.
They disengaged. Dwayne took the towel that had been spread to prevent a wet spot and used it to wipe Paul and himself clean. Then they settled down in each other's arms. It wasn't quite dark yet--they had about another half-hour. Dwayne rested his head on Paul's shoulder, and the bigger boy played with Dwayne's earrings, gently twisting one of the studs, then tugging at the lobe. "Dwayne?"
"Hm?" Paul pinched his ass. "Ow. What?"
"Don't fall asleep on me. I want to talk."
"Then talk."
"What do you think of David's new friend?"
Dwayne tilted his head to look up at Paul. "Marko? I like him."
"Yeah, I do, too. But what do you think of him? Would he fit in?"
Dwayne considered this carefully. "It depends on how you mean it. He gets along good with all of us, and there's already something between him and David."
"Yeah. You'd have to be blind not to see it. But his situation is different from what ours was when we met David. He has a family."
"So did I."
Dwayne's voice was flinty, and Paul felt him tense. He hugged the other boy, stroking him soothingly till he felt him relax again. "Yeah, but to hear him tell it, at least one of them actually gives a damn about him. He loves his grandfather. That comes through clear as a bell. I don't think he'd want to leave him, and Grandpa sounds like he'd probably come looking. That wouldn't be good."
Dwayne frowned. "No, it wouldn't. We couldn't allow that."
"And killing off someone he loves would sure play hell with the bonding."
"Maybe Grandpa could come along?"
Paul gave Dwayne a jaundiced look. "You really think Max would allow another father figure in the group?"
"Oh. Yeah, that was a stupid remark."
Paul smiled, giving him a squeeze. "You occasionally expect the best of the world, Dwayne. You'll learn." They were quiet for a moment longer. "I hope it works out. I feel kind of guilty about David sometimes. I'm so happy with you. I know we try to include him, but..."
"But it just isn't the same--I know. David needs someone to need him. Marko... If you read between the lines, I think Marko has been sort of supporting his family for a long time now. He never got the chance to choose to do it. And why do I have the feeling that nothing he could do would ever be enough for that bitch?"
"Whatever else happens," said Paul, "I want to eat her. Not for actual enjoyment, you know. It'd probably be about as pleasant as drinking rancid sardine oil, but DAMN it would be satisfying to know I'd taken her out of this world." There was a slight shift deep within himself--a subtle energizing. He looked up at the ceiling. "It's time."
They got up and dressed, then went out to the lobby. David was lounging on a sofa, boots propped on the ripped cushions. He gave them a casual wave as they came in. He sniffed, then smiled. "Nice to see that someone has gotten the evening off to a good start."
"What are we doing tonight, as if I didn't know?" said Paul.
"Smart ass." Paul bowed. David shook his head as he stood up. "Do you two need to hunt?"
"No," said Dwayne. "We, uh, grabbed a little something when we were getting the beer. David gave him a questioning look. "We were careful."
Paul nodded. "We took turns--one of us kept watch at all times."
"Where'd you put it?"
"Dumpster. They aren't scheduled to pick it up till the middle of next week."
"All right, but you know I don't like you hunting that deep. Next time, ask me first." Paul and Dwayne both snapped salutes. "TWO smart asses. I think you corrupted him, Paul."
"I've done my best, sir."
~*~*~*~*~*~
Marko and Luther walked to the boardwalk together. They settled on a little hamburger stand--one so tiny that there was no inside seating. Instead there were a half dozen small picnic tables. It had been just after dusk when they'd arrived. There was going to be a free concert nearby, and the boardwalk was thronged. They took their food to a table near the railing.
Luther looked around as he munched. He looked over and watched Marko as he ate, studying the crowd that swirled around him. The boy was so eager for human contact, and he was so isolated. It just wasn't right. Ruth might as well have kept the child locked in a closet, for all the interaction he had been allowed for most of his life. The boy might not have been starved physically, but emotionally and socially? He knew that John had done what he could, and Luther had, too, since he'd come to the group, but it wasn't enough. Marko needed to interact with young people, people his own age.
Marko suddenly sat up straighter, his face shining. Luther followed his gaze to see what could inspire such eagerness. There were three boys coming toward them, weaving their way through the crowd. Two were blond, one was dark, and they were obviously together. It wasn't so much their physical closeness as it was a certain aura--an attitude. They spotted Marko, and all three gave answering smiles. They studied Luther as they came to stand by the table. Luther said, "Mark, these are your new friends?"
"Yeah." He pointed. "Paul, Dwayne, and David. Guys, this is Luther. He plays piano for the group, and he's my grandfather's best friend."
David quirked an eyebrow, but nodded cordially. "Nice to meet you, Luther."
Luther gestured at the table. "Please, join us."
"Don't mind if we do."
David and Dwayne sat opposite the two men, and Paul perched cross-legged on the table. David gave him a look, thumping the sole of his boot, and Luther said, "No, that's all right. It's nice to see someone being comfortable."
"Thanks, dude," said Paul. He leaned over and snagged a french fry from Marko. "It makes it easier to steal food, too."
"Are you boys hungry?" Luther started to reach for his wallet.
"We're cool," said David. "But thank you, Luther. That's very gracious of you. So, taking it easy before the show date?"
Luther nodded. "We'll be setting up and practicing tomorrow afternoon. Ruth would have us drilling constantly, but even she has had to realize that would strain their voices. Since we're going to be performing in the open air, there's nothing to prevent you from coming around and watching, if you'd like." He smiled. "She can't run you off public property."
"Thanks, that would be great, but I'm afraid we can't make it." He noted Marko's disappointed look, and said, "It isn't from lack of desire, kid, believe me. It's complicated."
Marko hesitated, then, voice low, said, "There's no one looking for you, is there?"
Dwayne and Paul exchanged glances, then Paul said, "Not as such, no." He gave a sunny smile. "We wouldn't be able to hang here if they were. The cops make regular patrols, after all." Marko relaxed a little. Though he enjoyed rebelling against Ruth and her hypocrisies, he wasn't interested in drugs, and he had the feeling that was the only really serious activities the boys might have been involved in.
"Mark," Luther was gathering up his trash. "I'm going back to the motel." His voice was casual. "I think that John and I will need a little time to go over the arrangements again."
David said, "There's a nice little bookstore that's open late over on Turner Drive. Real quiet, lots of little secluded reading areas. People mind their own business."
Luther hesitated, then smiled. "Thank you. That sounds perfect."
"Luther, I'm going to hang out for a while," said Marko.
Luther frowned. "Will you be all right to get home? John or I could come back and pick you up later."
"He's going to be late," said David. "But don't worry--we'll provide escort service."
Luther nodded his thanks, said good-bye, and started back down the boardwalk. Dwayne said, "He seems like a nice guy."
"He is. He keeps me and John sane," said Marko. He leaned forward on his elbows and lowered his voice. "I'm pretty sure that Ruth knows about him and John. She's using one of the only good things in their lives to control them. I've been hoping for ages that John would find enough strength to leave her. I hoped that Luther would GIVE him the strength, but Luther has problems of his own. From what I've heard, he was raised in a family where Ruth would have been right at home. He's terrified of being seen as... different."
"How deep is he in the closet?" asked Paul. Dwayne and David both thumped him on the arm. "What? It isn't as if we don't all know what we're talking about, here. I don't want Marko to think he has to pussyfoot around us, pretend that things are different from what they are. He gets enough of that with the bitch, right?"
"Crude, but sincere--that's our Paul," said David dryly. "Sorry, Marko."
"No, he's right. It'd be a relief to just SAY it. He's in so deep that he might as well be in a sub-basement. Deeper even than John--or me."
He waited to see if there was any shock or discomfort expressed, but David just said, "At least you have the door open, kid. I think John and Luther have padlocked it from the inside."
"Yeah, well, when I hit eighteen, I'm bringing 'em a crowbar."
"A noble plan." There was a burst of music, and the crowd that had gathered before the stage roared in approval. Dwayne and Paul whooped joyously. Both hopped up and darted off into the crowd, moving in a manner that was as much dancing as it was walking. David stood. "Making a night of it?"
Marko's jaw firmed. "Yeah, I am."
"Then come on--let's have some music before."
Marko got up and followed him as they went in the direction the others had taken. "Before what?"
David put a hand on the small of Marko's back as they walked, and Marko shifted a little closer. "Whatever comes later, my friend."
Chapter Eleven
David and Marko made their way through the crowd, down to within a few yards of the stage. He didn't know the band, but he liked it. Their music was hard and bright. Marko found himself reacting, shoulders shifting to the driving rhythm. David poked him. "Dance."
Marko shrugged. "I can't."
"Are you kidding?" David grabbed Marko's shoulders, pulling and pushing till the other boy moved along with his urging. "See?"
Marko stopped as soon as he let go. "David, the only dancing I've seen for the past seven or eight years has been when one of the shows really gets going and someone gets the spirit. I'd just feel funny." He lowered his voice. "I couldn't dance alone."
"You don't have to." David started to move, hips weaving. "C'mon." Marko started to smile, shaking his head. David pushed his shoulder again, still dancing. "C'mon!" Marko hesitated. David moved quickly. His arm snaked around Marko's waist, and he jerked him up flush against him. Marko's eyes went wide as he felt David's muscular body move against his own. Their faces were close. David looked into his eyes and said slowly, "Come---on."
Marko started to move, too, and David let go, but didn't move back. They weren't touching now--not quite--but there was scant space between them. Marko hadn't danced in public before. There had been a few times over the years when he was certain that Ruth would be safely away, and he had dared to tune his radio to a popular music station, and then had lost himself in the motion and music, but he'd never really known if what he was doing was anything but laughable. Now as he turned and swayed, the look in David's eyes was appreciative, but not amused.
The band moved from one tune to another, and Marko kept dancing, reveling in the freedom, in the sensual feel of stretching his young, strong body, expressing himself this way without fear of being castigated or shamed. For once he was in a group that was doing exactly what he was. He BELONGED, instead of being singled out, or set aside. There were so many dancing either in their own world, or with a partner... or partners. Boy and girl, girl and girl, boy and boy... No one seemed to notice or single out any other, except to enjoy watching them.
Marko joined them in that, too. As he danced himself, he watched David. The other boy moved with a grace and fluidity that seemed somehow beyond normal. *He's beautiful,* Marko thought. He saw the way that others noticed David, the way they watched him, with hunger clear in their eyes. But David didn't seem aware of them. He had eyes only for Marko. Marko had spent most of his life in a sort of spotlight, being the focus of attention, but he had never really felt that someone was SEEING him till now. He totally missed the covetous looks that were directed at him. All that he saw, all that mattered was David.
He was so lost in the experience, that it came of a shock when he heard the shout, "Thank you, Santa Carla! You rock!" He stopped dancing, standing uncertainly, his breathing deep, as the crowd quickly began to thin out. David was standing before him, and he smiled. "Not always easy to come out of the zone, is it?"
"Is it over already? Why did they play such a short set?"
"Short? It's after eleven, Marko." Marko blinked in surprise, and checked his watch. "Time flies when you're having fun, right?"
Dwayne and Paul approached, slipping easily through the departing audience. They were laughing and jostling each other. Paul grabbed a passing girl and swung her around till she was shrieking with laughter, then let her go with a smacking kiss on the cheek. Both boys looked so alive--vibrant. Marko was surprised to see the way David's eyes narrowed as he observed him. "Wait here for a second," he told Marko, then strode quickly over to meet his two friends. Dwayne and Paul halted at his approach, and exchanged glances. Marko was reminded of two little boys who'd been caught doing something very naughty.
David stopped near them and seemed to ask a question. There was an awkward moment of silence, and then Paul shrugged, saying something. David reacted with a swiftness and vehemence that was a little shocking. Lightening fast, he grabbed Paul's shoulders and shook him. His voice was raised enough for Marko to hear, "What did I tell you? What did I SAY about that?"
Paul didn't resist, but he looked so miserable that Marko's heart ached for him David wasn't being brutal, but it was obvious that the taller boy was hurt by David's disapproval. Dwayne caught David's arm, speaking to him in a low, urgent voice. David said, "That's no excuse. He's older, and more experienced. It's his JOB to look out for things if I'm not with you. He knows better than to..."
"David!" said Paul sharply. He jerked his chin back toward Marko. David looked around. There was anger in his eyes, but Marko sensed that it was more worry than anything else. It was the sort of expression a parent might have if they'd caught their child doing something dangerous, especially if they'd been repeatedly warned.
David stared at Marko for a moment, then let go of Paul and wiped a hand over his face, holding it over his eyes for a moment. Paul said, "I'm sorry, man. Really."
Marko had started toward them, and David held up a hand. "Marko, hold off for a minute, please. This is family business."
David moved closer to the other two, and dropped his voice so low that he knew Marko couldn't hear them. "Paul, you know why I made the rule, right? It just isn't safe to hunt when it's this crowded, especially so close to those asshole Frog brothers, and especially when we aren't TOGETHER. I know you feel protective of Dwayne, and you want to take care of him, but it could have waited another couple of hours, understand?"
Paul hung his head. "Yeah. I'm sorry."
David sighed. "Don't be sorry, man. Just don't do it again?" He grabbed Paul's hair and shook his head, but there was a rough tenderness in the gesture. "I don't want to risk losing you. Maybe Dwayne's your man, but I love you both, too."
"I know."
"It was for you, too, David," whispered Dwayne. David looked at him questioningly. "You know... Marko? To take the edge off, just in case. You don't seem to want to move quickly, and he's got to be a strong temptation."
David glanced back at Marko. The moonlight had leached the gold out of the boy's hair, making it almost silver. He was watching David with great, dark eyes that were tinged with worry now. David could scent him, even at this distance. Every human had their own personal scent, if you just took the time to analyze it, separate it from all the smells that the world and living layered over it. Marko's scent was clean--pure, and somehow innocent--but with an undertone of musk. Desire.
He looked back at Dwayne questioningly, and the dark boy said, "Under the boardwalk, where we were last night. He was trying to get into cars in the lot. He has a Nebraska license, so there probably aren't many around who'd miss him. If you want him, you'd better go. We didn't drain him, but he'll bleed out eventually."
David considered. "Stay with him." He raised his voice to Marko. "Wait for me. I'll be right back." He made is way quickly off into the shadows.
Marko joined Dwayne and Paul. "Is there some sort of trouble?"
"Not really," Dwayne assured him.
"I did something I knew I shouldn't have," said Paul, "and David was quite rightly pissed off. But it'll be cool."
They were quiet for a moment, and finally Dwayne said, "You decided to break curfew tonight?"
"Yes." Marko said, "Maybe if I start expanding my horizons now, by the time I reach my majority she'll have gotten used to the idea enough so that she doesn't actually have a stroke."
"This would be a bad thing?" said Paul. Marko raised an eyebrow. "In case you haven't noticed, I have issues with people who are too much into control."
"But not David?" Marko asked.
"David is different," said Dwayne. "He talks things out. He has reasons for every rule, and, unlike some others, he actually knows what the fuck he's talking about."
"What did he have to do?"
"Probably had to see a man about a dog," said Dwayne.
"Shake the dew off the lily," said Paul.
"Water the daisies."
"Drain the lizard."
"Take a whiz."
"Shouldn't that be 'leave a whiz'?" said Marko. "Seems to me it would be kind of hard to take one--not to mention uncomfortable."
Dwayne grinned, and Paul laughed. "You fit in fine, Blondie."
They chatted a little longer, and David soon returned. "Paul, maybe you and Dwayne ought to go back to our place." They nodded, and David looked at Marko. "How about it, Marko? Want to come over for a while? It's out by the cliffs--you probably passed it on your way into town."
Marko thought about it, then reluctantly shook his head. "They'll have me up early tomorrow, and it's getting late. I'd no sooner get out there than I'd need to come back." He hesitated, then said quietly, "You could come back to the bus for a little while, if you like. No one ever bothers me when I sleep out there."
Paul piped up immediately. "That's nice, but we ought to go on back, like David said. David, we'll be alright going home alone, if you want to go."
David was watching Marko. He saw the genuine want in the other boy's eyes, and said slowly, "That sounds like a plan."
They went back to the bikes, and split up as they pulled out of the parking lot--Dwayne and Paul out of town, David and Marko deeper into the streets. About a half-block away from the motel, David cut his lights and engines, and they coasted, then walked into the lot. He parked his bike around the corner of the building, saying, "No point in leaving anything out to alarm someone who might decide to look out the window."
They walked to the bus, and Marko stood aside to let David enter first. Once inside Marko locked the bus door, then gestured at the interior. "Welcome to my place."
David, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looked around. "Not bad. I've seen worse."
"Let's sit in the back," said Marko. "I really don't expect anyone to look out, but this far back we'll be in the shadows."
They settled in a pair of facing seats near the back. David removed his jacket, folding it on the seat beside him. Marko smiled, and said, "You know, you're the first person I've ever had to 'my place'."
"Are you nervous?"
Marko bit his lip. "A little, yeah."
"Because of Ruth?"
"No, not her. I've been dealing with her a long time, but I won't have to for much longer. I can deal with her."
"So it's me."
"Yeah, but..." He hesitated. "But it's a good sort of nervous. I like it."
David leaned down, resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his knees. "Good. I feel the same way."
Now Marko smiled. "You--nervous?"
"Yeah. You're different from most of the people I've met in my life. I want you to like me, but I'm not sure how to go about it."
"You're doing fine so far."
David reached out and touched Marko's face, running his thumb over the boy's cheekbone. "Marko, I need to ask you a question. Tell me to get fucked if it's too personal, but... You're not scheduled to be here for long, so I don't have a lot of time. You're gay, right?" Marko nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off David's face. "I figured that. But what I need to know is are you gay in theory, or in practice?"
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"How much have you done with other guys?" Marko was silent, then looked away. David took his chin in his fingers, turning him back, and said gently. "I don't care what the answer is--practically none, or dozens of partners. I just don't want to move too fast for you. You deserve consideration, Marko."
Marko took a breath. "I'm still a virgin. Listening to Paul and Dwayne make out the other night was the closest thing to sex with anyone else involved I've ever come." He smiled weakly. "Well, unless you count that assistant youth minister in Arkansas who was a little too huggy for my comfort, but nothing really happened."
David switched sides, sitting next to Marko, sliding an arm behind and around him. "I sort of figured that was how it was."
"Weird, huh?" said Marko wryly.
David smiled. "Promise not to hit me? I think it's sweet."
Marko made a face. "I can handle that, since I like you so much."
David's smile grew sultry. "How much do you like me, Marko?"
Marko paused for a moment, his eyes darting toward the door to Ruth's room. Then his gaze grew determined. He turned back to David, leaned forward, and kissed him. It was a little clumsy, and, yes--sweet. David slid his other hand back into Marko's hair, holding him as he pressed into the kiss.
Marko had never kissed anyone in a sexual manner, and this first experience was intoxicating. It seemed natural to give way before the firm press of David's mouth, to let his lips part at the questioning touch of a tongue. He was a little startled by the coolness of the moist flesh invading his mouth, but David's arm tightened, and the tongue stroked over his own. There was a completely alien, but delicious, taste--the flavor of David. He responded instinctively, sucking softly, and was rewarded by a low moan of approval.
The kiss became two, then three, then more--melding together in an unending stream. Marko licked into David's mouth, mimicking the other boy's actions, discovering that joy of exploration. Mouths wandered over cheeks, jaws, and delicately closed eyes. David pushed back Marko's hair and nuzzled his ear, making the other boy groan and laugh as he dabbed into the curved hollow, then nipped and suck the lobe.
When David moved down to his throat, Marko shivered with pleasure. He'd never thought of the neck as an erogenous zone. If he had, he'd have touched himself there during the lonely moments of masturbation. It was sensual, but somehow very personal--more than sexual. He unconsciously turned his head to the side, baring the smooth column of his throat to David's tender attentions.
David buried his face for a moment in Marko's curls, then whispered in his ear. "Will you go farther with me? We can make each other feel good."
Marko murmured, "I have a bed in back. It's small, but..."
"No, babe. Not that." Marko made a yearning sound, and David amended. "Not yet. You're not quite ready."
"I FEEL ready."
Marko took David's hand and pressed it down into his lap, over the firm bulge that distended his fly. David squeezed gently, smiling. "My, oh, my. But do you know what it is you're asking for, little boy?"
Marko was silent for a moment, then just said, "Please?"
"You can't even say it yet--you're not ready. David massaged Marko through his jeans, and Marko lifted his hips, pressing up into the confident touch. "You will be soon, but right now I can show you a few things." He continued rubbing, and his voice was low and intense as he spoke. "Listen to me. Listen closely. Being with me is different from being with other guys, Marko. You have to understand that."
There was something different about David's voice. It seemed to go right through Marko, touching a place inside that no one else ever had. It was as if the rest of the world was falling away. There was nothing but David--his burning eyes, his masterful touch, his enveloping voice. "I want to understand."
"You will. I know you will. You're my kind, Marko. I knew it from the moment I saw you. But Paul, Dwayne, and me--we're different from other people. We're apart from them. You're different in your own way." David was unzipping Marko's fly, opening his snap. His hand slipped into the gap, moving over the thin cotton of Marko's underwear. Marko could feel a faint warmth, and he thought vaguely that it should feel hotter than this. But then David pushed down the waistband, freeing Marko's erection, and took him in hand. All doubts melted away at the first skin-to-skin contact. "You can be like us if you want to, but that's an important decision. It can't be jumped into. Can you move your hips forward without dropping your butt off the seat?"
"Yeah."
Marko sank lower in the seat, stretching his legs out till he was half-reclining. David moved, straddling Marko's hips on his knees. He reached down, and Marko followed his hand as he unzipped and worked his own erection out. Marko took a breath, and his hand moved tentatively, but he stopped short of contact. "It's all right," said David quietly. "You can touch me. I'd like that."
Marko touched him lightly, running his fingers up the shaft from the base to the tip. "It feels the same as mine, but different."
"I have to tell you something now." Marko had wrapped his hand around David's member, and was stroking slowly, staring down in fascination. "Marko, listen to me, this is important. You may change your mind about wanting to be with me, and if you do, that will be all right. I know you know what come looks like." He smiled. "Maybe you haven't been with anyone else, but you've seen it. Mine--there's blood in it." Marko jerked, eyes flashing up to David's face in alarm, and David said quickly, "No, it's all right. I'm not hurt, and I'm not sick. I've seen a doctor, okay? It's just how I am. And it's not catching, it isn't a disease. I just come red instead of white."
"You're sure you're okay?" said Marko anxiously.
"I'm sure. It's been like this for as long as I can remember." He shrugged. "Maybe it's genetic." He paused, studying Marko's face. "I could have just used a condom, and not said anything, but I want to be honest with you. Look, if you don't want this, I'll just zip up. I can use my hands or my mouth and make you come, or I can just walk away. It's your choice."
Marko responded by reaching up to embrace David, pulling him down and in for a kiss. When he broke away he said, "I want you, David--any way I can have you."
"That's good, because I want you more than I have anyone else for a long, long time."
They began kissing again, and David pressed against Marko firmly. He began to hump slowly, sliding the lengths of their stiffnesses together. Marko moaned into David's mouth. The friction was exquisite, more than he'd ever imagined, and the thought that there were things yet to experience that had to be more intense made him dizzy. He began to writhe under David, pushing up to meet his thrusts. David's hands moved over him, and he tugged at Marko's shirt till the other boy lifted his arms, and David skinned it off him. David knelt up, pulling away from Marko, and the other boy tried to follow him up. "No, babe," he whispered. "Wait. Lift your ass so I can get your pants down." Marko obeyed, and David pulled his underwear and jeans down his thighs, over his knees. "Stains," he said. "I'm not ashamed of what we're doing, but why should you have to deal with any more shit than you have to?"
David moved back in, and now he had access to more bare skin. Marko was soon twisting in pleasure as David brought his nipples to hard peaks, moving from gently strokes to nipping pinches as he sucked and nibbled Marko's neck. Marko hissed at a particularly hard pinch, and David murmured, "Sorry."
"No, it feels good."
"Oh, like it a little rough, huh? You're a treasure, kid." David bent further and soothed the aching bits of flesh with warm licks and sucks. "You're going to love this." He humped harder. "Tell me when you're close, Marko."
Marko was whimpering with pleasure, feeling the damp trails of pre-ejaculate that the other boy was painting on his bare belly. He reached back, grabbing at David, filling his hands with firm buttocks, pulling at him, urging him to go harder and faster. David made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a chuckle.
Marko tried to kiss him again, but David put his head down, placing his cheek beside the other boy's. David could feel his vampiric nature swimming closer to the surface, lured by sex, and the delicious scent, pulse, and heat of the blood that raced so close. He could feel the shifting of muscle in his face, and he didn't want to scare Marko, if he lost control. David felt the boy beneath him tensing, and Marko gasped, "I'm... I'm almost there."
"Hang on, Marko." His voice was rough. "This will sting, but it will make it better."
He kissed the side of Marko's neck, were a passion-bruise was beginning to rise. He opened his eyes, and they were solid red. Then he sank his fangs almost gently into the soft flesh of Marko's throat. The first hot, sweet gush and the mingled cry of pain and pleasure almost drove David crazy, but he held off. He wasn't going to glut himself. He was going to savor Marko, and do his damnedest to lead the boy into the family.
*He's biting me,* thought Marko, dazed. *God, should it feel this good?* The sucking stopped, and he felt David softly licking the wounds he'd made. The sting faded to an ache. David cupped the side of Marko's face, then lifted his head, and kissed Marko softly on the cheek. Marko grabbed at David's shoulders and cried out, splashing his belly with sperm so hot that David felt like it would sizzle on the cool plain of his belly.
David crouched over Marko, pulling him into a tight embrace, and holding him as he trembled. He whispered to the boy. "It's okay, kid. It's okay." He stroked Marko's hair back off his forehead, and grinned down at him. "Kinda intense, huh?"
Marko said breathlessly, "No fucking kidding."
David threw back his head and laughed, then kissed him again. "I love it when you talk dirty."
Chapter Twelve
Marko ran his hands over David's chest, then down to his crotch. "You didn't come."
"I can wait." David smiled. "But if you really want to do something about it..."
Marko was fisting him lightly. "Will this be enough?"
David sat back a little, resting his ass on Marko's thighs, giving him better access. "Whatever you want to give me will be enough, Marko. I don't force sex, not on any level." He put his hands on Marko's forearms, feeling the shift of muscles as the boy's hand moved. "I've seen what that sort of thing can do to a person. It happened to Paul, and it almost happened to Dwayne. It should never happen to anyone." He slid his hands up Marko's arms, smoothing them up to his shoulders. "It doesn't have to be all or nothing. There are so many different levels of pleasure. No one says you have to rocket from the depths or plunge from the heights. There's absolutely nothing wrong with a slow climb."
"I want to make you feel good. I want to give you what you gave me."
"You are," David assured him.
"Tell me what to do."
"Just do whatever you think might feel good." He smiled. "I'll pay attention, and maybe I'll learn a few things to do for you next time."
"Will there be a next time?" Marko's voice was wistful.
"It's up to you," said David quietly, "but I hope so."
Marko stroked David firmly, with increasing speed. He only hesitated when he saw that David's pre-ejaculate was red, as he had been warned. But David had assured him that there was no danger, and he trusted the other boy more than most people he'd known in his life. He reached down and gripped David's scrotum, squeezing and tugging gently. David grunted with pleasure, bracing his hands on the seat, on either side of Marko's head, and he began to thrust into the other boy's grip. Marko muttered, "I wish I could make it slipperier for you."
"Spit."
Marko blinked up at him. "You wouldn't mind?"
David laughed. "Dude, I would so totally love to be in your mouth--is a little spit going to bother me?"
Marko hesitated. "I could..."
David leaned down and kissed him, then said firmly, "There is no pressure. Everything can come in it's own time, Marko. I'm not in a hurry. I'm very patient--you'll learn that." There was a shadow in his eyes. "I've had to be. Go on. A little wet would be good." Marko spat in his palm, then resumed masturbating the other boy. "Oh, yeah. Gotta love the slide." Marko shifted a little, scooting up on the seat. "Where ya going?"
"Nowhere," Marko assured him. "I just want some room... a better angle, so I can do this." He bent down.
David threw his head back as he felt the first hot velvet swipe of Marko's tongue across his cock head. "Oh, shit! You're so damn hot, Marko!"
Marko lapped again, then smiled up at David almost shyly. "It's good?"
"It's fucking FANTASTIC!"
Marko pumped David quickly, alternately pressing and rolling his balls with a touch that was firm, but still fell short of being painful. The pleasure was almost maddening. Marko gave long, lavish licks, then fluttered his tongue against the damp, swollen knob, till David was ready to beat his head against the seat back in an effort to keep from just jamming himself as far down the boy's throat as possible. Then Marko drew his glans between his lips and sucked--hard.
David jerked back with a cry, and his semen splattered the other boy's throat and chest, leaving what looked like a trail of garnets on the pale skin. Marko looked up at him, a little disappointed, and said, "You didn't have to do that."
David took a handful of tissues from a box on the opposite seat and used them to clean Marko, then himself. "Yeah, I did."
"I would have swallowed."
David was stuffing the soiled tissues into his jacket pocket. He hugged Marko, pressing the other's head down on his shoulder. "You would have, wouldn't you? Do you have any idea how special you are, Marko?" He pulled back and looked Marko in the eyes. "It wasn't a rejection, okay? Drinking from me--from any of us--that sort of takes things to a different level. You're not ready for that yet."
"I..."
"I know you're willing, but you don't understand everything yet." He smiled softly. "And there's a lot to understand. I've been the way I am for a long, long time, and sometimes I feel like I'm just groping in the dark." He stood up, tucked himself back into his pants, and zipped up.
"You want to go in the back and lay down for awhile?"
"I have to go."
"Oh."
David heard the forlorn tone, and sat down beside him, embracing him again. "I WANT to stay. Shit, Marko, there's nothing I want to do more than just lay down beside you and hold you--feel you breathe, listen to your heartbeat, just feel how ALIVE you are. But I HAVE to go now. If I was to lay with you, I'd want to do more. I could easily just get lost in the moment, and that isn't safe for me. I have to be back at my place well before sunrise."
"Why? I don't believe anyone is really looking for you. You're too open out on the boardwalk."
"It's complicated."
"David, maybe I haven't been able to make myself believe all the things I've read in the Bible--I don't understand it all--but I'm pretty damn smart, if I do say so myself." David chuckled. "Tell me. Maybe I'll understand. If I don't, maybe you can explain it to me."
David studied him, then said, "The simple version is that me and the boys have a condition that makes us very, very sensitive to sunlight. It can be actually harmful to us. It could kill us."
Marko frowned. "I've heard of that. I've seen stories in the tabloids about children who can't ever go out in the daytime. Even mild sunlight can give them blisters, or even blind them."
"It's something like that, but stronger. I WANT to stay with you, but I can't."
"I understand."
"We'll figure out a way for us to really spend some time together, I promise."
Marko stood, closing his pants, and followed David to the front of the bus. David unlocked the door and started down the steps. Marko said, "Could... could you come to the show tomorrow evening? It's going to start not long before sunset, so you ought to be able to see about half of it. It's going to be outside at the boardwalk, so you won't have to worry about paying to see it."
David cocked his head. "No? How do you folks make any money?"
"The church group who booked us pays some, but it's more or less a token payment. The money comes from selling CDs and tapes, T-shirts..."
David grinned. "You have your own T-shirt?"
Marko returned his smile. "No. Not yet, anyway." The smile faded a little. "Ruth is planning on moving me up into evangelism in a year or so. Apparently there are two popular types--old and seasoned, and young and passionate. That's one reason why she's pressing me so hard to memorize the entire Bible. It'll be a great selling point." David was shaking his head. "At least she doesn't have me charging for signing programs and CDs. Oh, and we take up a love offering at each show."
David laughed. "A LOVE offering? You pass a plate?"
"Pretty much."
"Hell, I'd be shocked if it ever came back with ANYTHING in it. Not that you aren't worth it--I'm sure you are, but I can just see people snagging handfuls of bills when it comes by."
Marko smiled angelically. "So can the big ass ushers who bring the plates around. You'd be surprised how honest most people become when there's some guy over six feet tall watching them with the gleam of fanaticism in their eyes."
"I can see that. Well," David was standing on the second step down, facing Marko. "I got your love offering--right here." He grabbed his hips and leaned forward, nipping sharply at his flat belly. Then he kissed the slight sting, his tongue darting briefly into the cup of Marko's navel. Stepping down, he winked at the boy. "Tomorrow night." He headed toward the side of the motel, boot heels ringing on the pavement.
Marko watched him disappear around the building's corner. A moment later there was the growl of a powerful engine, and the bike pulled out, hit the street, turned, and rode slowly away. Marko watched till the tail lights disappeared, then shut the bus door and slowly wandered to the back of the bus.
This time he stripped completely before lieing down, crossing his arms behind his head. He felt wonderful--relaxed, lazy, and somehow--complete. *It's too soon,* he thought. *I just met him. He's experienced. It's probably just sex to him. Why would he want anything more from me?*
The moment that thought crossed his mind, he sat bolt upright, expression hardening. *Son of a bitch--that's EXACTLY what Ruth would say.* That single thought, if nothing else, made him sure that David did NOT see him as someone to simply use, then discard. No, this might be sudden, but David CARED about him--and he cared about David. The only question was, how deep did it run, and how long would it last? He knew the answers to those questions, if Mother Ruth had anything to say about it. "She won't." He was a little surprised to realize that he'd spoken aloud, but actually saying it made it more real to him.
Marko relaxed again, and began to go over every moment he's spent with David, enjoying the mental recreation. But after a moment, he found himself frowing slightly. *No, it's silly.*
A few moments later he got up and, naked, walked the few steps back into the front section of the bus. He rummaged in the bag from the comic book store and came up with VAMPIRES. He returned to the little room and lay down, fishing under the pillow. He found the flashlight he kept there, propped himself comfortably against the back wall, switched on the flash, flipped open the comic book, and began to carefully re-read it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Paul and Dwayne were lounging in the lobby of the sunken hotel when David returned. They were cuddled together on a sofa in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. Dwayne's head was in Paul's lap, and the blond vampire was running his fingers gently through the other's long, dark hair. They both looked up as David entered. He silently came and dropped into a chair near them, sprawling with lazy grace. All three boys regarded each other silently for a few moments, then David smiled at them slowly.
Paul laughed. "Dog."
David shrugged. Dwayne sat up, watching him with interest. "He's nice, isn't he?"
"Yeah," David agreed. "He's just so... so..." He gestured almost helplessly. "Just so much HIMSELF. He's innocent, but at the same time he's so hot. And generous? Damn. He wanted to do everything for me. That kid is so full of warmth and affection that he's about to burst wide open, and that fucking bitch he lives with has just been shoving it down as hard as she can." He shook his head. "She's killing him inside."
"But he's getting away," said Paul. "He's said so, right?"
"He wants to. He MEANS to, but..." David scratched his chin. "If he can't take his grandfather, and maybe his grandfather's friend with him... I don't know if he'll go. I get the impression that John might have escaped a long time ago if not for Marko. He knew he'd never be allowed to keep him on his own, and he wouldn't have been able to just go underground and disappear." David smiled, and there was a glint of fang evident. "Honest people, God bless 'em. They make it hard on themselves."
Dwayne sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Shit. She's about to trap another generation. Something's gotta be done."
"It wouldn't be easy," said Paul. David looked at him in surprise. Paul was always the reckless one, the one who would rush ahead blindly without thinking things out. If he was leaning toward caution, it said something about the situation. "I mean," Paul continued. "It wouldn't be like our usual meat. The bitch is at least semi-well known. She'd be missed." He nuzzled Dwayne's ear. "And, unlike Jake the Snake, babe, somebody might actually give a fuck if she disappeared."
"Nothing has to be decided right now," said David. "They're going to be here at least through Wednesday, since that's when they give their last performance. There's time to consider."
"And consult Max?" asked Dwayne.
David's expression grew distant. "Not necessarily."
"Good," said Paul firmly.
David smiled. "We've been invited to tomorrow night's performance."
Paul gaped, and Dwayne said, "David--a gospel sing?"
David shrugged. "Sticks and stones may break our bones... or to be more precise, garlic may choke and holy water burn... but the word won't do anything to us."
"Some of those people will almost HAVE to be wearing crosses," protested Paul.
"So don't try to eat them, and you should be all right. Seeing them may make us uncomfortable, but they're not going to do us any damage unless we actually TOUCH them. Don't snatch any chains, and if they seem to be getting huggy--and that DOES happen at some of these things if they really get going--just step away. Look, I won't ask you guys to come if it really bothers you that much, but I'm going. I promised Marko." He arched an eyebrow. "Of course, I'm not saying that I won't call you pussies if you don't go."
The other two stared at David, then fell against each other, laughing and meowing. Paul even managed a rough version of a purr, and rubbed against Dwayne like a tomcat seeking attention. Then the rubbing turned into something more, as he pushed the other boy down on the couch and crawled over him. "I said pussies," David said, amused. "So why are you humping him like a dog?"
Dwayne heaved Paul off, dumping him on the floor. The bigger boy just crossed his arms under his head comfortably and said, "Why WOULDN'T I hump him? Okay, David--I'll go."
"Me, too," said Dwayne. "I'm really interested in hearing him. He must be pretty good if he's been more or less supporting himself by singing."
"I think he will be," said David. "He looks like an angel--it's hard for me to imagine he won't sound like one, too." He stood up. "Bed time, brothers. I
want to be good and rested for tonight."
Part Thirteen
Marko stared resentfully at the tie that dangled limply in his hands. "I hate this. I can't even use a clip on."
John, putting a final polish on his shoes, shot him a sympathetic look. "You know what Ruth says about that."
"It's a sign of laziness, and a lack of respect for our audience." He darted a glance at this grandfather. "Crock number 65." Luther, who was sitting beside John on the bed, covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. "It's bad enough when I have to wear a button-down shirt, jacket, and tie when we perform in an air conditioned sanctuary, but we're performing outside. I'm going to be sweating like a hog before the first song is over." Still grumbling, Marko looped the tie over his head, sliding the knot up to his throat. He started to straighten it, then scowled. Grabbing the end, he jerked it up over his head, tilting his head sharply to the side, and made a gagging noise.
John was smiling, but he said, "Marko..."
"Well--Jesus never wore a necktie."
"Jesus didn't have to deal with your grandmother."
Marko chuckled. "Yeah. Sort of makes you understand the term 'enough to try the patience of a saint.'" He sighed. "Just once I'd like to be able to wear a t-shirt. I mean heck, I'm supposed to appeal to the younger audience--that's what Ruth always tells me. When was the last time you saw a bunch of suits at one of our outdoor concerts? I could wear a One Way, or a Jesus Saves shirt."
Luther remarked, "I thought you'd given up on griping about the dress code a long time ago, Marko. What's suddenly brought this up again?"
Marko shrugged, and it seemed as if he wouldn't speak, but after a brief pause he said, "I haven't been worried about how I look before. I'd just rather not look like a prig tonight."
Luther and John exchanged glances, and John put down his shoe, turning his full attention to the boy. "Could it be that there's someone in particular that you'd rather not look priggish before?"
Marko gave him a level look. "Could be."
John smiled. "I'm glad. But it isn't one of the girls from the church that's sponsoring us, is it? You haven't spent much time with them."
Marko smiled. "No, it's definitely not one of them."
"I'm only asking because I'm pretty sure that only one of them would have any kind of a chance of passing Ruth's requirements for even a temporary companion. I know that you wouldn't want to expose someone you liked to Ruth's tongue when she might disapprove."
"I can guaranty you Ruth wouldn't approve, but..." Marko hesitated, then continued. "But I don't think it would matter much to David."
There was silence in the room. Both Luther and John had gone very still. Finally John said heavily, "I'm pleased that you trust my love enough to tell me this, Marko."
"I just thought you'd understand--you and Luther." Another silence. John was blushing hotly, and Luther had gone dreadfully pale. "It's all right. John, I'm happy you found someone you can love. I think it's great." He gave Luther a gentle smile. "And I think you both have been very lucky to find each other. I hope this can turn out to be as lucky for me."
Without another word, John stood up, walked over to Marko, and embraced the boy. Marko returned the hug, feeling the older man tremble. He patted John's back, saying, "I shouldn't have said anything right before the show, but... I don't know. I wanted..."
John pulled back a little, wiping his eyes. "You wanted to share. Something like this, finding someone special--you don't want to keep it to yourself." He gave Marko a brilliant smile. "Do you know how good it is to finally have someone I can talk to about him--about US?"
Marko walked over to Luther, and put a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Luther?"
Luther looked up at him, eyes moist. "I've never told anyone but John how I am, and I didn't really tell him. It's a good thing, because I don't think I'd have ever been able to say it right out loud. You know how Ruth is? My parents, my family, everyone I grew up with--they make her look open-minded. If I hadn't had my music, and then John... I wouldn't have lasted this long. It HAS been hard, not being open about how we feel toward each other, but... Marko, you'll be careful not to let anything slip about this? I know you wouldn't mean to, but..."
*He doesn't realize that Ruth probably knows what's going on already.* "Of course, Luther. Well, we don't have much more time." He straightened his tie, then stuck his tongue out at his own reflection. "We'd better get ready."
~*~*~*~*~*~
The Frog brothers stood in the doorway of their comic shop, studying the crowd that thronged the boardwalk. Edgar said, "This is a lot better turn-out than I would have expected for a gospel group."
His brother nodded. "It usually takes a rock band to get this kind of crowd." He scowled, dark brows lowering. "I wish it WAS a rock band."
Edgar listened to the music that floated up from the stage down on the beach. "I dunno. It's not my type of music, but at least it's not that tinkly New Age crap." He shifted his shoulders slightly. "It has a beat, and you can dance to it." He eyed a small knot of boys and girls. The girl's wore skirts down around their knees and blouses so loose you'd have to look five minutes to find a bust line. Some of the boys were wearing jeans not only were unfaded, but had nary a rip or patch to be seen--some of them appearing to have actually been ironed. "If any of these people actually dance."
"What's pissing me off," said Alan, "is that this sort of crowd doesn't buy comic books, or if they do it's nothing but Archie, and our profit margin on
those is shitty." He sighed. "I almost wish we had some of the usual thugs around." Three boys in jeans and leather, two blondes and one with long, dark hair, strolled down the boardwalk and stopped in front of their store, staring out at the crowd jostling on the beach. Alan's eyes narrowed. "Almost being the operative word," he whispered.
The words were barely breathed, but the trio on the boardwalk turned, as one, to stare at them. The two blondes smiled, while the dark haired one's expression was sullen, almost pouting. The shorter one, hands in the pockets of his long leather duster, nodded genially. "Hello, boys. How's business?"
"Not good enough to make it worth robbing the place," snapped Edgar.
Dwayne's scowl deepened, but Paul's smile only became a little feral, and David laughed softly. "Friend, you don't have anything in your register that would interest us." The light glinted off his smile. "I thought you'd figured that out by now."
The Lost Boys turned and walked off into the crowd, headed for the stairs that would take them down to the beach. Edgar and Alan watched them go. Not looking at his brother, Edgar said, "It's a good think they can't come in here."
Alan shot him a glance. "They can't?"
Now Edgar looked back at him. "Well... yeah. We never invited them. YOU didn't invite them, did you?"
"Edgar--this is a public shop."
"But we live in the back, so it's our home. They have to be invited into your home."
"Home is the back part--the front is open to the public."
Edgar said stubbornly, "Well, -I- consider it home."
"I think this is sort of like in court--how YOU interpret the law doesn't make a hell of a lot of difference in how things actually operate."
"Well, FUCK! All these months I've just been assuming that we were safe in here, when they might be able to..." He stiffened, gritting his teeth, then turned to stalk toward the back of the store.
"Where are you going?" Alan called.
"I'm gonna go roast a few bulbs of Elephant garlic. I figure if I mix the paste with holy water, then spread it around the doorframe, that ought to keep vampires away."
Alan wrinkled his nose as his brother disappeared, then turned back to watching the crowd, muttering, "Yeah, and anyone else with working olfactory cells."
~*~*~*~*~*~*
There were a few adults in the audience, but most of them were young, from barely teens to twentysomethings. Luther had managed to convince Ruth that a program of nothing but traditional songs wouldn't work, so they'd interspersed a heavy lacing of contemporary Christian music, though she grumbled that you could scarcely tell the difference between it and pop, or even rock and roll. Marko was tempted to say that you could if you actually listened to the lyrics, but he resisted the urge.
There were more people than they'd expected. Against all appearances, it seemed that Santa Carla was going to be a profitable stop. They might even be asked to play an encore performance.
Marko enjoyed performing, and he could usually bury his tensions and anger toward Ruth when he sang. It helped when the audience really responded. There were some nights that he could tell that they were... getting something from him. It made him feel a little empty to realize that he wasn't intentionally trying to give them anything, that he wasn't trying to pass along a message--he was just entertaining. But when they obviously enjoyed the music, it helped. *Maybe I can't give them what they're looking for,* he thought, *but I can give them something.*
He always had good eye contact with the audience, but tonight his eyes roved over them restlessly, looking for one person in particular. About halfway through the show, not long after sunset--there he was. He turned from getting a sip of water, and David was standing down in the front, flanked by Paul and Dwayne.
John knew when Marko's friends arrived. The boy's face just lit up, his smile almost glowing. They moved into the more contemporary section of the show, and Marko REALLY shone there. John had a feeling that if a music producer ever saw the boy in concert, when he was really ON--like now--that Marko could quickly move into the rarified air of top gospel singers--the kind who could fill arenas almost as easily as a pop star.
Since Ruth refused to sing back-up on any of the less-than-traditional songs, she took a seat back by the band, and Luther took a microphone and left the piano to stand with John. Both of the men loved these parts of the show, where they could really work together, letting their voices blend.
Marko went through several popular modern religious songs, moving around the stage, dipping and swaying to the infectious music. The crowd responded to his obvious enthusiasm, an electric excitement beginning to build. During one vigorous songs Marko suddenly jerked his tie loose, pulling it off and tossing it on the piano to the approving calls of the audience. He didn't bother to look back at Ruth, knowing that her expression would be outraged. He thought that he might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, and the jacket was soon discarded, also. As he'd predicted to John, he'd been sweating heavily, and the night breeze on the damp cloth of his shirt was exhilarating.
The energy kept rising, not even Ruth's silent, steaming disapproval dampening it. Marko was exhilarated as he watched Paul and Dwayne bouncing in the front of the crowd, dancing as they had at the rock concert, joined by many of the less staid youths. David didn't dance. He just stood, arms crossed, watching Marko. But he smiled--oh, yes--he smiled. The final song was the same as always, and Ruth DID get up to join them again. But by now Marko was so pumped up that he hardly noticed her as the band fired up and he swept into the song.
"Some glad morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away..."
His voice was strong and joyful. He sounded like he believed in what he was singing. *But,* David thought, *there's more than one kind of escape.*
"I'll fly away, Oh Glory! I'll fly away..."
"In the morning," sang John and Ruth. But compared to Marko's ringing declaration, this sounded weak--almost forced, as if they were protesting that what would be was not quite what he was anticipating.
"When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away!" The final line of the chorus repudiated their cautions. It was as if Marko had a vision of what was to be, and it was a liberating experience that might not entirely jibe with the raditional Christian view of salvation.
"When the shadows of this life have gone, I'll fly away. Like a bird from prison bars has flown, I'll fly away."
*That's what it'll be like for you, won't it, Marko?* thought David. *You've been a caged bird all your life. This life HAS been shadows to you, and leaving it would be freedom.* The rest of the song... It was as if Marko was speaking to him, assuring him that what David wanted to give him was what he, himself, wanted--that it was RIGHT. Just a few more weary days, and he'd fly away to a world where joy would never end. *Yeah, Marko. That's what I want to do for you. If you can just hang on for another couple of days, till I can let you know what this is all about--till you can understand...*
"When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away!" Marko's voice soared--clear, and pure, and powerful. It was joyous and fiercely determined, all at once. This was something that WOULD happen, something he WOULD achieve. And if the rapt, shining faced Christian youths in the audience believed he was speaking about the salvation they'd heard about in church... What did it matter? They took from it what they needed, and Marko was content.
There was loud applause, laced with cries and whistles, as the group took their bows, and the music gradually wound down. Marko, eyes fixed on David, started toward the edge of the stage. He was brought up short by a tight grip on his arm, and he looked around, irritated at being delayed. Ruth was glaring at him. She hissed, "I don't know what you thought you were doing tonight, Mark, but we'll discuss it later."
"Maybe." He shook his arm. "Let go. I'm going to meet a friend."
Ruth's expression darkened. "Is that what you think? You're going to be signing CDs down front, like you always do. You know very well they buy more if they can get them signed."
Marko jerked violently, saying loudly, "Can't you stop thinking about the money for one minute?"
Young people in the front of the crowd quieted down, watching this exchange with round eyes. Ruth lowered her voice even more, saying, "You will NOT make a disgraceful scene, Mark! Now, go over and get your pen, and..."
He tore himself away from her grasp, not bothering to be gentle. "I said NO! You want to sell more of the CDs, Ruth? Drop the price! You take a sixty per cent mark up on them. Drop it to forty per cent if you're really interested in spreading the good word." The last few words were bitterly ironic. He turned from her and lightly dropped down off the edge of the low stage, landing in front of David.
David was smiling at him. "Independence Day?"
Marko found that he was breathing heavily. "I don't know. Close to. Maybe the third of July."
"Mark! Get back up here." Ruth's voice was shrill. "Come away from that punk. John, say something."
Marko glanced back. John was looking down at him. Understanding passed between them. John shrugged. "What can I do? He's not a little boy anymore."
David bumped Marko with his shoulder. "Care to go hang out with the other punks at our underground lair--maybe get debauched?"
Marko grinned fiercely. "Absolutely."
They disappeared into the crowd as Ruth's voice, near incoherent with rage, rose in a tirade that had many of the good people attending the concert questioning her Christian tolerance, and perhaps her sanity.
I'll Fly Away
Some glad morning when this life is o'er,
I'll fly away;
To a home on God's celestial shore,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).
I'll fly away, Oh Glory
I'll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).
When the shadows of this life have gone,
I'll fly away;
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away)
I'll fly away, Oh Glory
I'll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).
Just a few more weary days and then,
I'll fly away;
To a land where joy shall never end,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away)
I'll fly away, Oh Glory
I'll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).
Part Fourteen
They made their way through the crowd to where the bikes were parked. Once again Marko climbed up behind David, and they took off. They drove slowly till they were away from the crowds, but when they hit the streets, they sped up. Marko spooned up tight against David's back, hands locked in front, but before they'd reached the cliffs, he'd started to explore. David felt the other boy's hands moving over this tee-shirt clad chest and belly, rubbing firmly, then scratching, just hard enough for him to feel the nails through the thin cotton. When they raked over his nipples, he grunted, and hit the accelerator. Duane and Paul, taken by surprise, raced their motors to catch up with them.
David pulled up at the bluffs, knocked his kickstand down on the bike, and dismounted quickly. The second Marko swung his leg over the bike, David grabbed him, jerking him up tight against his body, and growling, "In a hurry tonight, Songbird?"
Marko's eyes looked enormous in the moonlight, and his smile was somehow sly and angelic at the same time. "It's just so good to be able to give in to a simple impulse without having to look over my shoulder."
David's grip on Marko's shoulders gentled, and he felt a fine tremor running through the other boy's body. "Cold?"
"Yeah. I worked up a real sweat, got my shirt damp. The wind cooled it down a lot, and out here on the cliffs..."
"Fuck me for an ungallant bastard." David pulled off his jacket, holding it open. "Slip into this."
Marko did, as Paul and Dwayne pulled up and parked. Paul gave him the thumbs up sign. "That looks natural on you, kid."
Dwayne nodded agreement, but said, "Looks good, but I think he's more of the denim jacket type. You know, with lots of cool patches and buttons?"
"That'd work," David agreed. He tugged on Marko's collar. "Of course, he'd look good in anything, or OUT of anything. Let's get inside--it'll be warmer there." David led the way down the stairs and into the cave-like entrance of the lair.
Marko hesitated just inside, trying to peer through what looked like a solid wall of darkness. David said, "Wait here a minute. Guys, let's get this place lit up." Dwayne and Paul pushed past Marko, disappearing into the shadows, but almost immediately a point of light bloomed in the dark, then another, and another. By then there was enough light for Marko to watch as the boys moved around the room, lighting dozens of candles. David moved on to a fireplace and got a blaze going as his companions finished their chore. Satisfied with his efforts, David stood on the hearth, the flames leaping and cracking behind him, and spread his arms, indicating the shabby elegance around him. "Welcome to my home. Enter freely of your own will, and leave some of the happiness you bring."
Marko hesitated. The words held a peculiar resonance to him, and it took only a split second for him to remember where he had heard them. Many things flashed through his mind--the comic books, various books and movies, the coolness of David's flesh, the boys' 'condition', bloody semen, the raw, aching bruise on the side of his throat... He realized that he'd been standing there for several moments. The Lost Boys were silently staring at him, waiting. As he watched, Dwayne put a hand on David's back in a comforting, supportive gesture.
Marko stepped further into the lair. He walked to stand before David. Looking into his eyes, he said, "This looks a lot like home to me."
The others, seeing that their leader was not going to be rejected, relaxed. Paul took a boom box out from behind the battered reception desk, then opened a drawer and pawed through a jumble of cassettes, casually tossing rejects over his shoulders. He finally found one to his satisfaction and plugged it in. Bright, hard rock and roll burst from the speakers. //"Well, I guess it would be nice if I could touch your body. I know not everybody has got a body like you...// Paul whooped happily, spinning the volume knob to high, and started dancing, singing along. "But I gotta think twice before I give my heart away, an' I know ev'ry game you play..." He grabbed Dwayne, spinning the laughing boy around, grinding their hips together. "Because I play them tooo..."
David glanced over at Marko while this was happening, and noticed how the boy's eyes were shining, his lips moving slightly. "You know this one."
Marko nodded. "I found the lyrics in a magazine."
"Yeah?" David dropped down on a couch, grinning at Marko. "How about a real show? C'mon, you sang and danced for the righteous. How about giving us something?" Marko hadn't been shy about performing for long in his life--Ruth had whipped any stage fright out of him quickly. He sang for strangers most nights out of the year. This was a unique opportunity, though--the chance to sing music that he would really enjoy in front of people he liked. And this time he could give in to the rhythm and MOVE. He nodded slowly. "Paul," David called. "Start that over and you two take a seat. We get a private show."
As Dwayne sat beside David, Paul hit REWIND on the tape player. "Woo-hoo! If I'd known we were gonna get another show, I'd have brought popcorn!" As the blank space between songs started to hiss through the speakers, he bounced over and flopped on David's other side.
Marko had only seconds to get ready, but he felt like he'd been preparing for this his entire life. When the music started, he started moving. And this wasn't the muted, restrained motion he'd allowed himself during the more vigorous gospel numbers. He never held back on his music, but this time there was something different about it. It felt completely natural, and unforced.
David, Dwayne, and Paul were as appreciative as any audience he'd ever had, and their enthusiasm was different from his usual audience. The others, those masses of pale, shining faces, always seemed to be directed toward something that was BEYOND him. The Lost Boys were focusing on him.
//"Oh, but I need some time off from that emotion, time to pick my heart up off the floor. And when that love comes down without devotion, well it takes a strong man, baby, but I'm showin' you the door. Cause I gotta have faith..."//
As Marko continued to sing and dance, he thought of how strange it was. Love without devotion was useless. But wasn't devotion without love even worse? That was what Ruth was dedicated to. She professed complete devotion to her God, her church, and her work for both. But Marko had never detected an atom of love for any of that, or for anything else, of this world or the next. She didn't the congregations they witnessed to through music, she didn't love John, she didn't love Marko... She didn't even love herself. What about these boys? He'd seen them together. There was love here. The love between Paul and Dwayne was plain and deep. The love they held for David, and David had for them, was different, but it was still strong and undeniable.
As he sang, Marko thought about all the times in his life he'd felt empty, and longed to reach out to someone--wanting some sort of warmth and closeness. There had been chances. Anyone who thought that church folks were sexually neuter were kidding themselves. He often thought that some of them were even more sensitive to the possibilities of sex, since they were so consumed by the idea of sins of the flesh. Yes, they concentrated on fighting the urges, but you couldn't do that without focusing on them in the first place.
And Marko was something of a celebrity in his world. There were certain audience members... No one in the churches they visited would use the word, but the professional musicians in the band weren't so reticent among themselves--they called them groupies. The heat Marko saw shining in their eyes wasn't always religious fervor. He was watched closely, but if he'd been inclined--it would have been possible. But he'd waited, because that would have been nothing but physical, and though physical was nice, he wanted more.
Marko looked at David. What did he see in the blond boy's eyes? Desire, yes, most definitely--but more than that. There was acceptance, caring, and... kinship. *We're alike somehow,* Marko thought. Even as the music wound down, he had recognized something inside himself that he hadn't really been aware of before. Call it darkness, call it a cool spot in the warmth of life--whatever it was, he saw it in each of the Lost Boys, but most of all in David, and it called to him.
The music faded away, and he turned quickly, punching the STOP button, not ready to go on to the next song. He turned back to applause and whistles of approval. Paul pointed at him. "Ya know, you're better than most of the ones they hire to perform at the boardwalk. You could have a real career in the mainstream, if you wanted to."
"Thanks."
Marko was shifting a little, and David drawled, "Will one of you hogs scoot over and give the boy a seat." Paul immediately grunted and tried to crawl onto David's lap. David swatted him on the head, shoving him back, while Dwayne moved closer to the end, opening a space beside David. David patted the cushion beside him, and Marko went to sit.
Marko felt comfortably crowded, if that was even a legitimate term. David had thrown his arm over the back of the couch, which meant that it lay along his shoulders, and Dwayne had sort of tilted toward him, till he was pressed along his side. There had been times when the audience pressed in close after a performance, or he was forced to share a too cramped car for transportation, and he'd never really enjoyed these times. But now he didn't feel the least bit stifled. Being hemmed in by all that cool, solid flesh made him feel secure.
"Thanks," he repeated. "But you know, I don't really want a big career."
David cocked an eyebrow at him. "No? You're pretty unique in California, then."
Marko shook his head. "I want to be in music, but it doesn't have to be in the spotlight. In fact, I think that's kind of limiting. If you're going to try to promote a popular career, you have to make a lot of compromises, do what sells. I'd rather do like my Uncle Gene, work the clubs and bars. Or I could sing backup for other artist, or do commercial jingles. People make good money doing that. They can have long careers."
"They're kind of anonymous," said David. "Probably the only people who know their names are the ones who work with them."
"That would suit me," Marko insisted. "I don't need a lot of people knowing my name. I just need a few people... to know me."
"People you know, who know you?" Marko nodded. David glanced at the other two boys. "Could you two do that?"
Paul nodded. "What the hell? I'm an open book..." He started talking quickly, and Marko had to wonder if it was because he was afraid that if he slowed, the words would stick in his throat, refusing to come out. He'd heard similar stories before, usually when they played a larger city. Often one of the churches would have a member witness during the performance. The stories were a lot like Paul's--cast into an impersonal and cold system of government care at an early age, homes ranging from indifferent, through neglectful, into abusive, running away, life on the road--or rather SURVIVAL on the road. Turning to alcohol for escape, turning to sex to finance the bare necessities. The stories he'd heard before had always ended, "And then I found Jesus..." But Paul finished his with, "Then I met David." A shrug. A warm smile. "I was home."
Paul looked over at Dwayne. The younger boy had sat forward, clasping his hands in his lap. The dark curtain of hair had swung forward to hide his face, but Marko could see how tightly the hands were fisted, so hard that they trembled. He said softly. "He doesn't have to--if it hurts too much."
Dwayne looked up at him suddenly, dark eyes staring through dark hair, for a long moment. Paul got up and went to stand behind him. He didn't say a word, but he put his hands on the other boy's shoulders, fingers gently working at tensed muscles. Dwayne closed his eyes for a moment, and some of the tension went out of his body. "His name was Jake the Snake. My mother married him when I was about thirteen--fourteen, and I guess he figured he owned me." He closed his eyes again, baring his teeth. "And my Mom didn't see fit to argue with him..."
He kept talking, and Marko listened with growing horror to the tale of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse--and murder. "...and he shot me. Then the neighbor lady shot HIM. He died in the hospital. David and Paul got me out of there, and I've been with them ever since." He looked intently at Marko. "This is the only real family I've ever had," he said, with unshakable conviction.
"That's good," Marko said softly. "It's great that you found each other." Dwayne's grim expression softened, and he smiled a little. Then he looked across Marko at David.
David didn't react immediately. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, letting the smoke drift out slowly, watching it swirl up into the air. Eyes still following the thin patterns, he said quietly, "It's a long, long story. I'll give you the short version. My Dad died when I was little. My Mom and brother died in an earthquake. Max took me in." He shrugged, grinding the cigarette out against the sole of his boot, and smiled over at the others. "And I found my boys." His eyes settled on Marko. "Now I've found you. Haven't I?"
Marko felt a prickling wave of warmth sweep over him as he read the question in David's eyes. David had found the others. David had made them a family. Now Marko was standing just on the outside of that small, tight-knit group, but there was an opening, just enough for him to slip in, if he wanted.
Marko nodded. "Yes, you have."
end part 14