King Perry (8 page)

In a hushed tone he says, “
We’re going to prison
.”

I say, “How convenient. We’re already here.”

I’m tempted to explain that he doesn’t need to whisper, nobody could hear us over the ocean’s roar. Perhaps emphasizing our isolation may not comfort him much right now. I’ll keep that little detail quiet.

“C’mon back down here and snuggle.”

He refuses to take my offered hand, so I leave it dangling in the air. Instead, he chooses to pace around our small green bedroom, my straight arm following him like a magnetic needle.

“Take my hand, Perry. It’s going to be okay.”

“Way to go, Vin Vanbly, if that is your real name. You have successfully freaked me out within a few hours of our hanging out together. I am officially freaked out, you psycho. I wasn’t kidding when I said I told friends. And what was that crazy shit about the letter
k
at Christmas?”

Probably not a good time to tell him that my real name isn’t Vin Vanbly.

He looks at me and says, “Bloody finger stumps and hacked-open stomachs with intestines spilling—”

Oh, God.

“
Stop it!
” I put up my hands over my ears and curl up. “Seriously, please stop. You’re not in any danger, Perry. But stop.”

He does stop, but he glares at me from a safe distance. He says, “I’m not dying out here tonight.”

Picture cherry crepes and warm pasta, and yummy bacon. I love bacon.

Come back. Talk him down.

“Perry, you wouldn’t have fallen asleep unless you felt safe with me. You felt safe with me because of how much fun we had this afternoon wandering around Alcatraz. That was real. If I were a serial killer, I would have tied you up or done something to you while you were sleeping, not fallen asleep next to you. At the very least gagged you, because, yes, blood and guts is too much for me. There’s a gun-carrying night guard casing the island right now, and if you get completely afraid, scream your ass off and he’ll hear you. Before you do that, however, lie down and talk to me.”

Throughout my speech he softens, not completely, but he hesitates only a moment before taking my raised hand. Nevertheless, I feel resistance as he returns to the ground.

“He has a gun? Serious?”

“Lie here with me and breathe for a moment. This is one of those suggestions that’s more of a command, Perry. You agreed to submit all weekend, so c’mon.”

“Vin, this stupid weekend ends tomorrow as soon as we dock. Assuming we’re not shot dead by the trained professional.”

“Awww,” I say, letting the words trail off into a throaty grumble.

I need to discover how badly freaked out he is. I massage his neck and spine with one hand and rub the back of his head with the other, using short, soft strokes. Through his leather jacket and heavy shirts, I can feel he’s tight, of course, but his body tells me that he’s not completely overtaken by fear. He’s more angry than afraid.

Actually, he should lose the coat.

“Take off your coat so I can work your back muscles.”

He kneels and yanks it off, using jagged movements to communicate his feelings.

I think we’re okay.

I work his upper shoulders for a few moments and feel some of the tension actually leave, which is nice. I massage his shoulders with intention, putting my love into him, letting him feel something else for a split second, something other than fear.

“Holy fuck,” he says, and this time there’s a hint of excitement, just a hint. “Who spends the night on Alcatraz?”

“I do,” I say in an injured tone. “Roll onto your side so I can work your chest and stomach muscles.”

“You’ve done this before?” he says with surprise.

“Massage? Sure.”

I like being dense with him. Teases his irritation to the surface.

“
Slept here.
”

“Yeah.” I wrap my arm around his chest and note his heartbeats. “Let’s snuggle. I’ll rub your tummy.”

“Wait,” Perry says.

His body stiffens briefly against mine but then melts in smaller degrees.

He says, “You’ve slept here before tonight?”

“The night I met you, I only intended to duck into the art gallery for a few minutes before catching the last ferry to Alcatraz. But you were so sexy in your peach shirt and peach tie, I stayed. I thought you looked like a lawn furniture model. In my head, I called you Lawn Furniture Guy.”

He says nothing.

“I missed the last ferry on Tuesday. But I had my sleeping bag in the rental, so I slept in Duboce Triangle. It’s a good park.”

“Oh my God,” Perry says.

“I could afford a hotel, but I like camping.”

“You, you camp here,” Perry says. He laughs at normal volume but immediately covers his mouth.

“Sometimes. C’mon, man. Don’t make me ask again. It’s snuggle time.”

We lie in the cold, dark grass, and Perry asks whether I’ve ever been caught, if the guard patrols down here, what time the first boat comes in the morning, and other questions that he thinks are relevant.

“Hold all questions, please,” I say in my best Disney voice, “until the Alcatraz tour comes to a complete stop.”

I may have to repeat that line a lot this weekend, depending on how many questions he asks. Best to set up a standard reply now so he stops pushing.

He grouses more about how he was deceived, and encourages me to think of a plan to get us both off the island. He falls silent because he undoubtedly realizes leaving before morning is impossible unless we depart by police boat; I think he’d prefer transportation with fewer flashing lights.

I stroke his hair, strum his chest, and occasionally kiss his shoulders and neck, more gestures of affection than any serious intention, feeling his body torque itself into grudging acceptance. Once his heartbeat returns to normal, we’re ready.

“Let’s go, pardner,” I say in my best cowboy delivery, shaking him as if to wake him up. “Rise and shine, little doggie.”

I stand and stretch.

“Where?”

“We have to follow the night guard for a few laps, get to know his patterns.”

“We can’t do that,” he says.

“We must. How else are we going to know how to avoid him?”

Perry refuses to stand up with me but sits up and watches me as I touch my toes and perform the stretches I sometimes watch joggers do. I bet the implication of strenuous activity does not please him. I should start jogging. I should lose some weight.

He says, “No.”

“Yes. We can do this. Trust me. Get up.”

He won’t.

I cross to a rock and dig behind it, coming back with a plastic bag containing a few black items, one of which I toss toward him, a few feet away.

“Get up, Perry. We’re leaving.”

He crawls over and picks it up.

“Dude, I am not wearing a ski mask.”

“You’ll thank me in an hour when your neck and face are toasty warm. I brought you a black sweatshirt if you don’t want to wear your jacket. I wasn’t sure how warm you’d dress. Why don’t you lose that bomber jacket and try on the sweatshirt. It’s a hoodie.”

“If you kill me tonight, Vin, with my dying breath I’m going to scream out your name as loud as possible.” Perry’s teeth chatter, and he’s trying to joke, but this isn’t funny to him. “I’ll make sure the guard hears your full name, Vin. Swear to God.”

I offer him the gloves but do not move toward him. He’ll have to stand to take them.

“Perry, the story about the kings? Making love under the stars and all that? Several plot twists are coming, including an adventure in exotic Turkey, but no murder sprees. It’s not that type of story. So take a deep breath and relaaaaaaaaaax.”

“Good,” he says, grimacing and standing to snatch the black gloves. “Good. Let’s think of the non-murdering kings who trick people to sleep on Alcatraz.”

“Coax.
Coax
people to sleep.”

Using the ambient sky light, we creep back up our limestone blocks, back to the Charlie Brown wall. There, I teach him hand signals for move forward, hang back, and stay perfectly still. Once I have sufficiently terrified him, we’re ready.

“We’ve got to get close enough to see his moves, but we have to stay out of his flashlight beam.”

“You said he carries a gun?”

“Yeah, that’s the bad news.”

Perry whispers, “What’s the good news?”

I pause. “I read recently that eggs aren’t bad for you anymore. There’s, like, new research.”

“That’s not even remotely funny,” Perry says. “This is me not laughing, Vin.”

“It’s hard to tell with you in a ski mask. You might have thought it was hilarious.”

“Trust me. Not laughing.”

“If Peppermint Patty had said it, Marci would have replied ‘Hilarious, Sir.’”

I can’t be sure, but perhaps he’s glaring at me. Maybe. It really is hard to tell.

We hop the wall easily, both of us fairly quiet, and I give Perry a few pointers on how to run in silence: keep your toes pointed up, watch the ground every few feet but glance up regularly to keep your balance. We practice running from debris pile to debris pile, and I give him a few pointers on not scuffing his heels against the ground and how to always be aware of where his shadow lands. We peer around after every sprint, and eventually, during one of our practice runs, we spot the guard’s flashlight beam, still far from us but definitely headed in our direction.

I say, “From this point out, try not to think of my name. That way you won’t be tempted to yell it out if you trip or something. Think of my name as
X
.”

“Quit talking,” he says, hissing at me. “He’s coming.”

“Fine, you can be
X
if you want. My Alcatraz name will be Alaska.”

I give him the signal for “forward to the left,” and he hisses, “
I don’t remember that one
.”

“I’m pointing to the left.”

“It’s dark out here.”

“It’s not
that
dark.”

“
Quit talking, Vin.
”

“
Alaska
. I’m going by
Alaska
now. Think about your Alcatraz name and let me know.”

Perry nods hard, I’m sure just to get me to shut up. The nameless night guard is still nowhere near close.

The city’s glow casts incredible shadows all around us. If I thought these fifteen-foot heaps of scrap metal looked like hellish science fiction a few hours ago, the genre has switched now to horror: the steel girder legs jutting askew at all the wrong angles resembling a malicious, deformed creature seething in slumbering rage until its grotesque awakening.

I whisper, “Don’t these look like alien monsters right now?”

He does not answer me, but stares at me from his ski mask.

Well, I think they look alien.

We hide well, and when the night guard arrives in the cement foundation, we watch his flashlight sweep in lazy circles. He wanders around a few debris piles, mostly ignoring the entire area, and eventually heads toward the Charlie Brown wall.

“Have you thought of your Alcatraz name?”

Perry refuses to answer me. He crouches with his hands over his ears as if to block the sound of our imminent capture.

The guard ambles back toward the stairs, and soon we hear him clomping down the southern steps, beginning his return trip across the island.

“Let’s go.”

I have to pry his hands off his ears before I can get him to follow.

Alcatraz is a fairly big island, but it’s less big when two people are carefully avoiding the third person while simultaneously chasing him. A few times during the next hour of our stealthy chase, Perry panics. I have to remind him to breathe occasionally, and once, when I worry he’s going to explode, I give him a math problem. “If I bought a 10K CD at 4.2% for a five-year return—”

At this, he pushes me away, but the distraction serves its purpose; he cools down for a few more minutes. We chase the guard for another segment of the island, beyond the main prison gates, as he sweeps the northern buildings.

During another moment of panic, Perry stands up straight, intending to turn himself in.

“I can’t do this, Vin,” he says at a normal volume.

Luckily the guard faces the opposite direction and Perry’s words are lost in the strong wind.

I pull him down and quickly pull up his ski mask, then mine. I kiss him hard, kiss strength into him. My goatee rubs against his chin, and I massage the tight tendons on either side of his skull. I stroke behind his ears with my thumbs in gentle circles to calm him, soothe him, while sucking the air out of him.

We break from the kiss, and he gulps in heavy breaths.

“That was nice,” he says and takes a few more breaths. “We’re stalking a guy with a gun, but at least you’re a good kisser.”

“Maybe that’s the good news, better than eggs. Though I do like eggs.”

I grin against his face so he feels the contours of my smile and kiss him again, softer this time.

“You’re a good kisser,” he says again and knocks his head gently against mine. “But you’re killing me. I’m not built for this. I’m an
inv—
”

“Investment banker. Yeah, I know. Be here. Be here with me. I’ve done this many nights, and I always spend two hours chasing the guard to see how he patrols the island, where he looks and where he doesn’t. I know what I’m doing.”

I lean in and pull him against my chest.

So far tonight, I’ve heard “I’m an investment banker” three times already. Sure, numbers dance for Perry. I know they do, because he calculated and whispered to me our respective ages after prison sentences of fifteen, twenty, and thirty-five years. The numbers dance is cool. But he has soaped and showered himself thoroughly with that job title for so many mornings, over so many years, that he smells nothing more.

Perry breathes after our kiss and looks into my eyes. I can tell that the worst is over and he can continue again.

He checks his watch. Good reminder.

“I’ll take your watch for now, and your wallet and keys. I’ll let you know when it’s morning. Trust me. You got a cellular telephone? Really? I figured an investment banker would. My pockets have padding in them, and I don’t want you to lose stuff tonight.”

“I won’t lose my wallet.”

“Trust me on this one,” I say, chuckling. “I once spent the entire night hunting down my car keys after I dropped them. It’s not how you want to spend your night.”