The Darker Side of Trey Grey (14 page)

I think my whole body colored over his praise. More than a few people had commented on my looks over the years. I was prettier than most girls for God’s sake. High cheekbones, dark lashes so long they tangled annoyingly in my eyebrows, petite nose and fleshy, sensuous lips. But this was the first time I gave a damn what someone thought.
 

I entered the master bath and grinned stupidly when I saw the big whirlpool garden tub. It was set into a corner of windows that looked onto the garden. Lecherous ideas of what could be done in that tub...
shit, I needed to not be thinking like that
. I glanced around instead. 

The spacious room was bright and cheery despite the grey attributes and charcoal Corian counter holding his and her brass sinks, or his and his depending upon how one looked at it. Not as pristine as Freddie’s, but it was clean. Just cluttered with toiletries and a few pieces of clothing thrown carelessly onto the pewter carpet.

While I was peeing it hit me that I kept comparing Justin to Freddie. Even though I’d had a wide and varied sex life, I’d never had a relationship. Not even when I was younger, unless you counted Willie, which I didn’t. Freddie was the only one that fit into the old boyfriend category. That was rather saddening when I thought about it. 

My relationships were set in hours not days, weeks, or months. How depressing was that? I decidedly squashed it into the overflowing closet in my mind, with all the other things I didn’t like to think about. One day I would have to have a breakdown, accompanied by more than a little alcohol, and go through all those hidden away thoughts and empty that closet. Today wasn’t going to be that day though.
 

I flushed the toilet, then pilfered through Justin’s drawers and found a cheap yellow toothbrush still in the cellophane.

I felt better after I evicted the organic family reproducing in my mouth. I tied the robe around me as I headed towards the kitchen, and a smoke.

As I stepped into the living room six pairs of eyes turned to me. I held up my hand in a pseudo-wave, sauntering straight through. Thankfully, the only comments I heard were; “I thought Justin was pulling our leg.” “I guess not.” “He’s adorable.”

The smell of coffee brewing greeted me as I entered the kitchen. I must have made a purely sensual noise of delight because Justin barked with laughter. I grinned and went into the laundry room.

“I already put your clothes in the dryer,” he called.

“Thanks,” I said, coming out with my coat in hand. I retrieved my cigs, and tossed it over the back of an oak chair. I didn’t hear him come up, but I sensed him and turned. His hands circled my neck as his lips came down onto mine, soft and sweet. I set the pack on the counter then wrapped my arms around his waist. 

The kiss wasn’t urgent or desirous, it was slow and languorous. Even so, when we separated, we were both having trouble breathing. Justin rested his forehead on mine, his golden lashes hooding his eyes.

“I don’t want you to freak out... I know it’s too soon... but, I think I’m in trouble.”

I swallowed. “Me too,” I told him. We shared a low chuckle and I kissed him quickly as we pulled away.

“Now that we’ve established we’re both crazy— coffee?” he asked. I nodded, and he flicked his fingers at me. “Go smoke. I’ll bring it out.”

I retrieved my pack and turned on light feet.

“How do you like it?” he asked.

“Black, thanks.”
 

Outside I left my head alone, letting it settle on its own. The air was damp, heavy, and gray, yet I didn’t feel it. I concentrated on the warmth rippling through me, seducing me with promises I knew I couldn’t accept. I refused to think about that right now though. I just wanted to live the moment.
 

I heard the door squeak open then shut softly. Justin came up and handed me my coffee. His arm circled around my waist as he leaned against the railing. We stayed quietly in our own heads as we sipped awfully good coffee; smooth and robust... perfect. It was all too perfect.

I could feel myself stumbling around inside my own mind, and I wasn’t really sure where I should be anymore. I wanted to be here, but I was fairly certain that was crazy talk. 

When my cigarette was almost a nub, Justin set his cup on the rail and took it from me, inhaling to the filter with carnal pleasure.

“I take it you used to smoke and quit?” I asked.

He nodded, letting the smoke trail out slowly. “Yeah, until my dad found out and tanned my hide but good. It had to come down to a threat though. Quit or he’d sell Fawkes. So, I quit.” He pitched the butt towards the garden. It landed on the damp grass near a landscape timber, snuffing out.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” I replied.

“I know this Italian place on tenth that has the best calzone,” Justin said.

“I could go for some Italian.” I straightened, taking a hefty gulp of coffee. “I smell a bit like a bar though.”
 

Justin laughed. “I’m sure I do too.” He glanced sideways at me. “Join me for a shower.” It wasn’t a request. Rather a soft command.
 

I shook my head, grinning at him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
 

He grinned back. “Probably not.” His eyes roved down, paused, and then came back to my face. “Someone does though.” His grin turned leering.

Damn, I thought all those hormones had died long ago. I felt like I was fourteen again. Justin advanced towards me and, laughing, I fled into the house. Turning to face him in the kitchen, I set my cup down, and then held my hands up. Okay, now we were actually acting like horny teenagers.

“Justin, if you touch me we will never get out of the house. We’ll die of starvation.”

He prowled slowly towards me while I backed away. I was in a real quandary here. I so wanted to take that shower with him, and spend the rest of the afternoon screwing like rabbits. On the other hand, I knew I needed to begin separating us because I really didn’t want to hurt him— and both were new threads of thought for me.

He lunged. I surprised even myself as I agilely, if a bit gaily, tore through the living room, closing myself into the guest bath and locking the door. Justin laughed as he pounded on the door.

“You’re not being fair,” he called through the door.

“You didn’t try very hard to catch me.”

“Bullshit. You’re fucking fast. You showed me yours— I want to show you mine.”

“I’ve already seen it.”

“
Ouch
. Fine, get me all hot and bothered then spurn me. Tease.”  He was chuckling as he said it. “Towels are under the sink.” I heard his hand slide off the door. 

Dropping the robe to the floor, I looked down at my flagging member.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” I asked. “Why now? why him?”  In response “IT” tightened. “Forget it. You are not getting him,” I muttered as I turned on the shower to warm then pulled a towel from the cabinet under the sink.

By the time I was clean enough to be satisfied, my hormones were out of control and I couldn’t help but be in awe of this. I hadn’t felt a surge of testosterone in five years, yet right now my whole body was zinging. I wouldn’t make it out of the house like this. Hell, I’d have Justin against the wall the second he looked at me. The guy had me in a frenzy, and I couldn’t deny I rather liked it.

In a creative stance on the edges of the tub, I pounded one out. A few lurid thoughts of Justin showering had “IT” decorating the drain rather quickly. He appeared to be completely enamored over the blond with the beautiful eyes.

Once I caught my breath, I was appalled to see I was still fairly hard. It didn’t take long to bring myself to fruition a second time, and “IT” finally went limp.

It took another five minutes of vigorous washing, with eyes closed, before I could allow myself out of the shower. I sat on the edge of the tub and scoured my feet last. 

How weird would it be if I bleached down Justin’s shower?
  High end of the weirdometer I was sure. I didn’t plan to use it again. I rinsed it with hot water and somehow managed to turn my back to it.

I donned Justin’s robe and headed to the laundry room. Justin wasn’t out yet, but the cleaning crew had moved to the kitchen. As I walked into the laundry room a rather average brunette followed me in and closed the door.
 

“You’re not exactly my type,” I said.

Her brown eyes glared stonily at me. “Shut up,” she snapped.

What was it about girls? They seemed to be born with that perfect bitchy attitude.

“Justin really likes you.”

“I noticed,” I said, making her lips thin down in warning.

I leaned back against the washing machine, crossing my arms over my chest. She had something to say and I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to leave until she said her piece.

“I’ve known him since we were kids. He’s sensitive, and it’s hard for him to like anyone. It’s been a long time since he has shown any interest. I mean in a relationship, something more than sex. Just... damn it... don’t hurt him.”
 

Her words cut a little, and I cringed inwardly. I
was
going to hurt him. But the short term pinch would be better than the long term pain.

“Is that all?” I asked.

Her chocolate eyes searched my face thoroughly. “Please, don’t hurt him,” she pleaded, then turned and opened the door. 

“Kelly, what were you doing in there with my boyfriend?” Justin’s voice was raised and trying to be joking, but I heard the suspicion there.
 

Kelly laughed nervously. “I don’t think you have to worry. I’m not his type.”

I missed the rest of the conversation. Shit. Fuck.
Boyfriend?
Damn it. Why did he have to go and say that? A moan pushed out my lips but I bit it back before it became a wail. Sweat broke out across my shoulders and I began to shake as panic set in.

I dressed quickly, the hysteria thickening as my mind twisted on the words boyfriend and relationship. I had to leave. I had to go home,
now
. Exiting the laundry room, I high tailed it to the front door, with Justin yelling at Kelly as he came after me.

He caught me a few feet from kitten, wrenching me around by my arm.

“Trey, whatever she said to you, forget it,” he said, fury firing in his eyes.

“It’s not... I can’t do this. I’m wrong... I’m all wrong.” Just saying the words tore at me. I didn’t want to be different. I hated myself for being this way. For being so weak.

“Jesus, Trey, you’re shaking,” he said, the anger leaving as alarm overtook him. He reached up to touch my face and I jerked away, shaking my head.

“Don’t... please don’t. I have to go. I have to go.” I pulled away, and stumbled to kitten’s door, hitting her alarm to unlock it.

“Trey?” Justin’s voice came through very small. I climbed into kitten and fired her up. Home. I just needed to go home and I would forget this weekend, forget Justin, forget whispered promises, forget it all.

I backed out, shifted to first and hit the gas just as I heard my name. The desperate sound cut into me. As I barreled down the tree oppressed drive I glanced, unbidden, in the rearview mirror, and the knife twisted and tore. Justin was crumpled behind Fawkes with his head in his hands.

It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t come here for this. Even so, I yelled and my palm struck the steering wheel several times as my foot slammed the accelerator down. Kitten shot out onto eighth in a squeal of rubber and a mighty roar. I pounded through the gears, ran yellow lights, and didn’t slow down until I was halfway across the 520 bridge. At which time I finally fell back into my right mind.

Idiot. He was just a fuck— A damn good one— but still just a fuck, nothing more. I glanced at the lake, miles of water, silver and calm. I started laughing and couldn’t stop. I felt insane... more insane than I normally did. And that thought had me laughing harder.

The next few hours saw me either laughing uncontrollably, or curled up weeping. I didn’t know what had happened to me, but I was raw and NOT in control. I dug out my one bottle of Stoli, hidden in the back of my normal closet, and worked through it. Somewhere along the journey, I passed out and crashed to the floor.

I was swept into the land of nightmares on a tidal wave of vodka. Only this time it was antithetical. I was a spectator, swearing and punching things in a rage as the younger me was beaten, raped and sold to anyone willing to pay. A broken arm, a broken jaw, lost tooth (still missing), a crushed finger— for refusing a john because he smelled like piss, another one broken for crying when a john got too rough with me. 

Thousands of bruises, endless days of bleeding, and pain, and clamping my hands over my mouth when I took a crap— so
he
wouldn’t hear me screaming. Then suddenly I was in the garage...

I saw myself tied to the rafters as Willie and his rich pederast clients screwed me over and over until I passed out. A cigarette ground into my ribs brought me right back in a fit of hoarse high-pitched wails.

 “I was thirteen, God damn it. I was thirteen... a boy. Just a boy.” The words screamed into my room, startling me awake.

“I was just a boy.” I sobbed under my hands, feeling the injustice like never before. He stole my life from me.

I cried until I was spent. Tired and hurting emotionally like never before, I scrabbled off the floor into the sunlight streaming in wide swaths through the windows. Yet all I saw was a grey fog dulling everything as it swirled around me, threatening to drag me back under. 

I made a cup of coffee, drank it, and made another. By the time I had finished the second cup, the shaking had subsided and I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. I couldn’t believe it was almost five in the evening. My eyes stuttered around the room, then down at my naked self squatting in the chair.
When did I undress?
My clothes were in a semi-neat pile on the bed. At least they weren’t tossed all over the floor.

I touched the scars along my hip and side the plastic surgeon hadn’t been able to make disappear. A smile worked across my face as the memory of Dr. Thurman’s kindness warmed me and chased away the fog.
 

At eighteen I had ventured into his office for a consultation. I wanted all the scars of my past removed. I felt if the evidence disappeared... it was just wishful thinking.

I had been tight lipped, refusing to tell him what they were from, but he knew. The second he had laid eyes on me he knew I was an abuse victim. He graciously waved all his fees except the aftercare. 

I broke down in his office, adamantly insisting the marks were not from abuse. He set a box of Kleenex next to me, squeezed my shoulder, called me son, and left me alone until I managed to pull myself back together.

He was able to remove fourteen of the nineteen scars through skin graphs and laser therapy. He had treated me with the utmost respect, as if I were one of his high paying clients, never once making me feel small. Every scar that disappeared brought another breakdown he let me work through in a private room.

After he was done re-building me, I felt more whole than I had since my dad died. The five remaining scars now served as a reminder of who I had been and who I would always be. You can try to run from your past— but it always guns you down in the end.

I unfolded myself from the chair and went to get ready for work. I may not want to hit the Ave, but I needed to. If not to remind myself of who I was, then because my financial situation was descending rapidly towards poor.

* * * * *

I parked at Paradise and suddenly recalled the run in with Georgie. He had shoved me towards the edge that I eventually tumbled over. More than two weeks of my life gone. I was done, and if he couldn’t get that through his thick head then I would beat it into him.

As I rounded the corner of the building, I caught Benny standing outside like a guard. He spotted me and didn’t give me his usual puppyish smile.

“Hey, Benny, how are you?”

“As good as can be expected. Damn cops have been swimming all over the place.” He sighed heavily.

“What are they doing here?” I asked, immediately worried Salvo might be in trouble. Hired an under age stripper, served minors, or worse, one of the girls went too far during a lap dance with an undercover cop.

“Where you been? Don’t you watch the news?” He looked at me amazed.

I shook my head. “Not usually, too depressing. Why, what happened?”

“Georgie’s dead, Trey. Found in his apartment a week ago Monday, cut to ribbons.”
 

I fell against the wall, stunned and a little sick.
Georgie dead?
  He was an asshole but— dead? 

“They’re calling it a gay hate crime,” Benny continued.
 

“What? Why?” My inquiry turned Benny green.

“Who ever killed him, castrated him... completely. Cut it all off.” Benny shook his head and tried not to gag. I tried not to gag but didn’t quite succeed. I managed not to throw up though.

“Oh Jesus, he didn’t deserve that. Shit.”
No man deserved that.
“But why are the cops here?” I asked, in a tone still stunned.
This is what I get for not watching the news.

“They found out he worked here and came to investigate. They have nothin’. No leads. Nothin’. Salvo... the only thing they pulled from his booth was his own DNA. Salvo told them he thought Georgie jacked off up there sometimes. Boss kept you out of the whole thing,” Benny said fondly. I was sure the affection was for both me and Salvo. Benny was a soft hearted lug that didn’t really hate anyone.

“Thanks for telling me. I’m going to go see Salvo, okay?” 

Benny nodded sadly, and I gripped his shoulder for a moment. He may not have liked Georgie, but he knew him and that alone made his death hard to take.

Inside, Salvo wasn’t working the bar. Tim, his weekender was. He headed towards me the second he spotted me.

“Salvo’s in his office. Where the hell have you been?
  He’s been worried.”

“I’ve been sick. Nurse and all.”

Tim took a step back, and I glared at him, hurt at the insinuation.

“Not that kind of sick. Nothing contagious. Geez, thanks for that,” I said.
 

He offered me a sheepish look. “Well, a person never knows,” he paused then added, “Sorry, Trey. Shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“It’s okay.” I waved it off then swept my hand over the club, “I’d be more afraid of catching something here if I were you.” 

He paled realizing I was right, and I turned on my heel leaving him to stew on that little truth.

I knocked on the flat-black door of Salvo’s office.

“Go away,” he called.

“It’s Trey.”

“Get the fuck in here,” he roared from inside.

I walked in and he collapsed into a relieved sigh on top of his desk, bonking his head on the surface. “Jesus Christ, where the fuck have you been?”

“Sick actually. I would have called,” I shook my head still disbelieving, “I just found out from Benny. Sorry, I um... I don’t watch the news. Shit, I still haven’t grasped it... Georgie gone.” I plunked down into the only other chair, a hard vinyl thing meant to make the girls squirm while being reprimanded. I’ve sat in it a few times and knew it worked.

“From the look on your face, I believe you had nothing to do with it. But what was that shit about last time you saw him.” Salvo’s lips stretched thin.

“You thought I had something to do with Georgie’s death?” I blurted, hurt and angry.

He placed his hands flat together, tipping them to his chin. “No, I hoped not. You were awfully upset when you left though.” He directed all ten fingers towards me.

“He fucked me without a condom, Salvo. I had a right to be pissed.”
 

His eyebrows lifted as he leaned back in his chair, causing it to creak in protest.

“It’s not like you can get pregnant.”

I huffed over his latent disregard.

“Sorry, bad joke.” His hand moved through the air as if clearing his words then he rubbed his face. I could see the toll this had all taken. His face was older, drawn, tired.

“I didn’t tell the detective about you and Georgie’s arrangement.” He chuckled. “You must be one clean fuck. They didn’t so much as find one of your hairs in his booth.” He shook his head. “Go, get out of here.” He waved me off.

“Thanks, Salvo.” I stood, offering my hand and he looked at it like it might bite him.

“I’m not touching you. You’ve been sick.”
 

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”
  I plopped kitten’s keys on his desk and headed for the door.

“Trey, be careful out there,” Salvo said quietly.

My head drooped as I bounced it against my chest. I then opened the door, and headed off to my corner.

I really needed to watch the news more often. I should have known there was a psycho slaughtering unsuspecting gay boys.

Cherry, Marie, and Toto were milling around my lamp pole as if they were having a meeting. Marie hit me first, almost knocking me over with her six-five frame, and two hundred and who knew how many pounds.

“Thank goodness... did you hear? Georgie... poor Georgie... he’s dead... Oh, Trey...” all spilled at once, in three tones, as I was dandled by six hands. Suddenly the three of them stilled and glowered at me.

“Where have you been?” came forth in unison as eyes in blue, hazel, and brown, waited.

“Yes, I heard about Georgie, No, I don’t want to talk about it. I was sick for two weeks. No, nothing contagious, so don’t freak out.” I took a breath, and was crushed into Marie’s oversize boobs, suddenly glad I had breathed a second earlier. She rocked me for a few, very long seconds and when she released me I gasped dramatically, making everyone laugh.
 

Skanks came and went on the Avenue almost daily. But there were only a handful of us who had been here a long time, and we had developed a friendship of sorts. We watched out for each other when we could. Toto was the most recent, but she had been here for two years and had earned her place. Cherry was kinda like me. Her mother had been a prostitute, so she stepped into the business young, at about the same time I began hustling for Willie. Marie arrived from Vegas four years ago and stayed, saying she liked the people here better. Why, she has never told me.
 

I frowned at Cherry as I took a hold of her chin, turning her face into the light. I hadn’t seen her close-up for awhile. She was thinner, her eyes brighter and more sunken in than the last time I had been face to face with her. Even her lengthy gold hair was beginning to tarnish. She knew better, and that fact made me angry, not to mention scared for her. She batted my hand away, yet had the decency to be chastised and dropped her eyes to the ground. I stayed quiet. She knew.

Her mother had died on this very street of a drug overdose. She was going to go the same way, and it saddened me more than Georgie’s death ever could.

“I kept watching the news... expecting to hear. You didn’t come and didn’t come... Georgie was one of yours. You had us all scared you were dead too,” Toto said, her voice muddled. “I’m glad it was all for naught.”
 

She gave me a benevolent smile before she turned, and waved over her shoulder as she headed down the Ave towards the Ihop. I never would have put it on her to care about anyone. Toto was a tiny girl of Asian descent, a total hellcat you didn’t mess with or she would claw your eyes out. I had never seen a soft spot on her, until now.

Cherry squeezed my hand as she planted a kiss on the air next to Marie’s cheek. “You two take care tonight, you hear me?” She let my hand slide away and sauntered down the Ave the same direction Toto had gone. 

“Take care yourself, girlfriend,” I said to her back. She wagged her fingers over her head to let me know she’d heard.

“Marie, she’s going to kill herself.”

“I know. I pray for her every night, just like I pray for you,” Marie said reverently.

“You don’t need to pray for me. I’m a lost cause.”