boystown (8 page)

I couldn’t tell if Donnie looked like his description or not. He was wearing a knit hat, a leather jacket that was far too large for him, and a pair of pants that was bunched up around his ankles.

There was something wrong about that, but I couldn’t think what. Donnie was walking real close behind Brian. Close enough that he probably had a gun.

I flashed back to my police training and ran through protocol. Protocol said call for backup.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have a CB radio in my car. Not that the police would come if they knew it was me. I suppose I could have run for a payphone and called the cops from there, but in the time it took me to do that, Donnie and Brian could be anywhere in a three-block radius. I could have stopped a passerby and asked them to call the cops, but again, who knew where we’d be by the time they arrived. No, it was up to me to deal with the situation.

Donnie’s clothes continued to bug me. There was something familiar about them. And they were clearly the wrong size. I nearly slapped myself in the head when I realized the clothes were mine.

It was Donnie who’d broke into my apartment a few days back. Not some junkie. Not some psycho-trick. Donnie. And that meant he had my Smith & Wesson tucked into the small of Brian’s back.

Reaching into my coat, I flipped the safety on my Sig.

When they got to Foster, Donnie and Brian turned east toward the lake. The snow fell heavy and fast, fast enough that there was a good four to five inches coating the streets. The world seemed muffled, as though we’d all gone a little deaf.

Lincoln Park runs up and down the lakeshore on the north side. Certain parts, like the parking lot at Foster Beach, a thicket of bushes further to the south, and the Belmont rocks, were known to be cruisy. Donnie was taking Brian over to the parking lot for Foster Beach, which was just beyond the underpass he and Brian were now walking through.

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Somewhere in the parking lot or the trees nearby he was going to shoot Brian. With my gun. In my clothes -- clothes he’d make sure to get Brian’s blood on. Then he’d walk away. He’d change the clothes somewhere. His car maybe. Then stash the clothes and the gun somewhere they were sure to be found. Like in a garbage can behind my apartment building.

Well, that answered the ‘why me’ question. Donnie’s plan came into focus. Find a gay PI to dig up Brian’s address, then frame him for Brian’s murder. Economical. Elegant even. Killing Brian in a known cruising spot would make the police think it was some sick, psychosexual thing.

They’d find me pretty quick. Possibly through an anonymous tip. I’d tell them I’d been hired to find Brian. By a client I couldn’t produce.

As we approached the parking lot, I noticed there were half a dozen cars. That was a surprise.

The wind had picked up, and it continued to snow heavily. These were not guys out for an evening stroll. These were guys sitting in their cars trying to meet other guys sitting in their cars, or better -- walking by. I couldn’t believe it. I’ve done a lot of stupid things trying to get laid, but this seemed extreme.

I think the cars were a surprise to Donnie as well, because he turned Brian toward the beach.

Roughly forty feet separated us. He hadn’t noticed me, yet. He would eventually. Of course, he’d have no idea who I was. Even when I got close.

The beach was covered in a foot of snow. I wouldn’t even have known I was on the sand if the ground beneath my feet hadn’t suddenly seemed to soften and shift. Donnie was looking from side to side. He didn’t want to shoot Brian on the beach. Too open, too visible to the cars in the parking lot. Several of which had their lights on. He seemed to make a decision and turned Brian suddenly to the right.

In that direction, there was a small pier with a thirty-foot-tall beacon at the end. The beacon was made of sheets of steel for the first fifteen feet and then crisscrossing girders after that. A light at the top spun slowly around. Ice had formed at the edge of the beach and all around the pier.

Seeming all too aware of what was about to happen, Brian abruptly tried to pull away from Donnie. But Donnie kept hold of him, and I caught a glimpse of my Smith & Wesson as Donnie brought it up to Brian’s face and held it there. Brian stopped struggling, and Donnie pushed him forward.

I picked up my pace, trying to close the distance between us. The wind was driving waves of water over the pier, and I wanted to get to them before they reached it. I started to run, but lost my footing in snow-covered sand. I got up as quickly as possible and trudged on. Moments later, they were at the pier. Brian was resisting again.

“Good boy,” I muttered to myself. “Slow him up.”

A wave washed over Brian’s legs from the knees down. He shivered so hard I could see it twenty-five feet away. The wind began to carry snippets of sound to me. “... don’t... I don’t want...” “...up, you god-damn...” “... please, no...”

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Brian turned around and looked in my direction. I couldn’t tell if he saw me. If he did, he was smart enough not to let on. Donnie scrambled onto the pier. I wasn’t sure what Donnie was doing. He could be planning to kill Brian and then roll his body into the water. But that didn’t make sense. If he wanted to frame me, there needed to be a body. The back of the lighthouse might be where he was heading. It didn’t look like it could be seen from the parking lot. It was private.

I reached the pier and climbed onto it. Twenty seconds later I got hit with a wave that drenched me from the crotch down. My legs burned with the cold. Brian could see me now, I was sure of it. He was arguing, keeping Donnie’s attention. In three quick steps I was directly behind Donnie. I pulled out my Sig and placed it carefully behind his ear.

“Take the gun away from him,” I shouted to Brian.

Brian grabbed the Smith & Wesson out of Donnie’s hand and let it hang loosely at his side. His breath was shaky and coming fast.

“We haven’t formally met,” I said into Donnie’s ear. “I’m Nick Nowak. And you, I think, are Walt Paddington. Or is it Donnie Carr? I’m a little confused.”

“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to let me finish this,” Donnie hissed. I could barely hear him above the wind.

Brian looked at me for a moment; I couldn’t tell if he’d heard Donnie’s offer, but he looked concerned.

“I’m not letting you kill anyone while you’re wearing my clothes and using my gun. No matter how much money you promise me.”

“We can... we can work this out...” Donnie turned to look at me, and I got my first good look at him. His eyes were a warm, friendly brown. He seemed meek, passive almost. His soft face was set in a mask of fear, but that’s all it was. A mask. “What are you going to do?”

“We’re going to go back to Brian’s, and I’m going to call the police.” They’ll just love this, I thought. Me. Saving a kid. Being a hero. Whoever takes the call, it’ll just make their day.

Without warning, Brian lifted the gun and aimed at Donnie.

“No!” I screamed, but he fired anyway. Shooting a gun for the first time isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies. The shot went wild, and the recoil knocked Brian on his ass, sending the Smith & Wesson skittering across the concrete. Sprawled on the icy pier, the boy began to slip into the lake.

Instinctively, I pushed Donnie out of the way and got onto my knees, grabbing Brian just before he slid into water. Relief flooded his face. I stood him up and leaned him against the base of the
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beacon. Then turned to see that Donnie had gotten hold of the Smith & Wesson and had it aimed right at Brian.

I stepped in front of Brian. I raised my own gun.

“Get out of the way,” Donnie told me. His face had lost all warmth. Now he was cold, casually ruthless.

“No,” I said, taking a step forward. Donnie took one step back.

“All right,” he said blandly. “I’ll kill you first.”

“You don’t want to do that, Donnie.” He raised his gun, took aim. “I take extensive notes on all my cases. You kill me and the police will know exactly who you are when they find the notes.”

It was a lie, but I hoped he’d buy it.

“I know where your office is. I’ll stop there on my way out of town.”

I took another step toward him. He stepped back. “The notes aren’t in my office. They’re in my car.”

A tremor passed over his face. I was right. He had no idea what kind of car I had. I took advantage of the moment and took another step toward him. He jumped a little and took a final step back, a step that landed him in Lake Michigan.

Brian walked over and stood by me. We watched Donnie struggle in the churning water. He screamed for help once, maybe twice. There was little we could do, even if we’d wanted to.

There was no rope nearby. No life preservers. No way for him to get back onto the pier. Even if he’d been able to navigate the waves and get to the pier, it was too icy. He never would have been able to pull himself up.

The current pulled Donnie out into the lake. We were only a hundred feet from the beach. He could have swum it, if the lake had been calm and warm. But it was neither. Briefly, he struggled to keep his head above water. His arms flopped around frantically, then suddenly stopped.

Silently, he slipped under the waves.

We waited to see if he’d come back up. He didn’t.

I noticed Brian’s shivering before my own. We were both soaked in icy water. My jeans were stiff, beginning to freeze. Silently, I led Brian off the pier, and we trudged through the snow, hurrying back to his apartment. We said little on the way.

It seemed to take forever, but we finally got back to his apartment. Once inside, teeth chattering, we pulled off our clothes. “Shower?” I asked.

Brian nodded.

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The water stung. Pinpricks covered my entire body. I brushed against Brian. Even under the warm water his skin felt ice cold. I pulled him to me and began to rub some warmth into him.

“Are we going to call the police?” he asked.

I was pretty sure no one saw what happened. Yeah, my gun went into the water with Donnie, but it was unlikely they’d be found anywhere near each other. If they were found at all. Donnie had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure he couldn’t be connected to me. I doubted anyone would knock on my door if and when he was found.

Besides, Brian and I hadn’t done anything but try to protect ourselves, so we had nothing to worry about. Except, given how fond the Chicago Police Department was of me, they might not see it that way.

“I don’t think calling them is a good idea,” I said as we got out of the shower.

Brian was visibly relieved. Still, he said, “We just let him die.”

“There wasn’t anything we could do.”

“But we didn’t even try.” For the first time, I noticed how very blue his eyes were.

“No. We didn’t. I’m not going to feel bad about that.”

He looked away and then leaned against me. I put my arms around him and held him.

Eventually, I leaned over and kissed him. I hadn’t expected I’d have sex with him again. I hadn’t even wanted to. But there was something about watching a man die together that formed a sort of... connection, I suppose. We’d shared death, and now it made sense to share at least a small sliver of life.

He kissed me back hard, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. We kissed deeply, until my neck began to ache from bending over. I slid my tongue down his neck and lowered myself to my knees. I found myself at his chest level. I licked his nipples one at a time. He gasped and shivered. But he was no longer cold.

I ran my tongue further down his taut belly and around to his hip. There was a growing bruise there from where he’d fallen on the pier. I kissed it. His cock poked me under the chin. Standing up, I took hold of his prick and led him back to the main room. I pushed him onto the bed and eased myself between his knees. Grabbing hold of his dick, I slipped my tongue between his foreskin and the cock head. I ran it round and round, then pushed the hood back.

Then I dove down, taking his entire dick into my mouth and throat. I bobbed my head up and down on him a half dozen times before I had to come up for air. Brian seemed to need a break, too. He’d begun to squirm and pant. I didn’t let the break go on for too long, though. I was back
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on him. Sucking him, darting my tongue into his piss slit, then pulling him all the way into my throat.

It had been a long while since I’d sucked a dick, and my jaw tired quickly. He didn’t seem to mind. As soon as I let his dick fall out of my mouth, his legs went up. I pushed them further into the air and ran my tongue around his hairy pink asshole. It smelled warm and sweet. I rubbed the stubble on my chin across his butt, and he nearly went crazy.

“Oh, God,” he moaned. “Just fuck me.”

I ignored him and slipped my tongue into his ass. He gasped and clutched at my shoulders. I stopped rimming him and crawled over the bed on top of him. He twisted himself to one side and grabbed a small jar of Vaseline off the nightstand. Opening it, he dipped two fingers in and pulled out a small blob of jelly. Then he reached down and rubbed it all over my dick. He stretched his arm between his legs and lubed his ass, then guided me into him.

I drove into him hard and fast. His legs spread wide, bouncing with each thrust. I grabbed him by the ankles and pushed into him again and again. His mouth fell open, and he pushed his face into the bedspread. I wanted him to look at me, so I slowed almost to a stop. It worked. He turned his head and looked up at me. He reached up and grabbed me by the back of the head. Pulling me close, he kissed me and whispered, “Keep fucking me.”

I dipped my prick into him again and again. He held me close. We curled together in a tight ball, kissing and fucking. Then I pulled away from him and gave him a few hard thrusts. His eyes followed me, everything I did, every move I made. He looked right into me, and I could feel it in my chest.

Brian began to masturbate, but I pushed his hand away. I took hold of his dick myself. I didn’t jerk it, just held it while I fucked him. His dick quivered each time I pumped him. His eyes opened wider as I teased him. Pumping him hard and fast for a moment or two and then easing off.