Violence Begets... (4 page)

“Well done. Just like a pro.” He took
the pipe from me and took a hit off the still-lit weed.

Kevin

The hell with him, was the only thing
I could think. So he knew how to smoke weed. Big deal. I’d been wrong. It hadn’t
happened before, but everyone had a first. The piece of shit was a punk. He knew
that. I knew that. The guys knew that. Then what the fuck was the big deal? I didn’t
have time to second-guess myself. I needed to fucking control something. Saint Ricky
was proving to be more of a challenge than I was comfortable with, and I was not
okay with my lack of confidence about the situation.

I glared at him from behind the pipe
as I took a hit, letting the smoke ease the tension I was feeling. After another
round, I hid the pipe back in my closet and watched as Rick slowly faded with the
weed. Even if he had smoked before, he hadn’t done it a lot. The effects certainly
hit him harder than the others. I almost felt bad when I kicked them out. It sucked
not being able to ride out a high like the one Rick was feeling. But I knew my father
was due home soon and having friends over without permission would not go well.
After a quick change of clothes and a spray or two of air freshener, I closed and
locked the windows before heading upstairs.

When my father sauntered in shortly
after seven in his finely tailored suit, I was at the kitchen table doing homework.

“Keeping those grades up Kevin?” he
greeted me shortly.

“Yes, sir. All A’s as expected.” He
rode me hard and I learned early on that meeting his expectations was one way of
keeping him off my back.

“Good. Don’t let them slip. Have to
get into the Ivy Leagues for a decent education.” I nodded at the familiar conversation
and continued working. Eventually he went to his room, closing the door behind him.
I heard him flip on the TV and started packing up my books, knowing he wasn’t likely
to come back out.

I knew the evening would proceed like
fucking clockwork. He’dstay in his room, turning off the TV and lights at 10:45
after the news ended. I’d wait until 11:30, then quietly sneak out the window and
head to the club. On this particular night, I was still pissed about the fact that
I had been wrong about Rick, and the fact that he had smoked out before. After calling
a cab from my personal cell phone, the one my father didn’t know I had, I planned
to stop off at Dirk's to earn the money I needed to have a good time at the club.
By the time I made it to Normandy I was turned on and itching for release.

Right away I noticed Quinn on the dance
floor with some of his friends. I’d been around the scene long enough to know he
was a bottom and liked it a little rough. He was perfect for what I had in mind.
After several more shots of Wild Turkey at the bar, I approached him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked, turning
on the charm I knew he’d find irresistible. He took a step away, obviously checking
me out. I was proud of the tight black shirt that showed off my well-defined chest.
I knew what I had to offer, and it was something he wouldn’t be able to walk away
from.

“Sure,” he smiled, following me off
the dance floor.

“What’s your poison?”

“Blue Hawaiian.”

I ordered his drink and another shot
of whiskey for myself. "My name's—"

“Kevin,"
he interrupted me, "I’m well aware. And I’m…?”

My turn. “Quinn,” I supplied, as my
lips curved into a mischievous grin.

“I see our reputations precede us,”
he smiled knowingly.

I laughed. “I sure hope so.” I’d heard
he liked to be courted, but I wasn’t really in the mood. Sensing he liked a guy
who took charge, I leaned in and lowered my voice so he had to strain to hear me.
“So, why don’t we head out back and cut to the chase?” He narrowed his eyes, smiled,
and made quite the show of sucking his entire drink down through his straw.

“Let’s go,” he laughed as I grabbed
his wrist and pulled him behind me out the back exit.

It wasn’t my first time in the dingy
alley, and I knew it wouldn’t be my last. On more than one occasion I’d run into
other guys who had the same idea. A few times I had even hooked up with some couples
who were already in the midst of things. But most often I continued with what I
was there to do, while the chorus of others getting off around me heightened my
arousal. On this particular night, it was early and we found ourselves alone. It
was cool for an October night, but I planned on heating things up real quick.

To hell with foreplay. I knew what I
wanted, and I was sure Quinn wanted the same thing. I immediately spun him around
and pushed his chest into the wall. I came up behind him and shoved my fingers into
his thin, straight hair, gripping and pulling his head back towards me.

“You ready for me?” I asked harshly.
I didn’t wait for an answer before I began and I knew by his reaction this was just
fine by him.

Shortly after, I left him at the bar
with a thank you and another drink. I never left on bad terms. The gay community
was too small and word spread quickly.

I made my way to the dance floor. I
wasn’t opposed to leaving with someone else, but it wasn’t my main priority. Right
then I wanted to lose myself in the music, surrounded by sweaty masculinity. Saint
Ricky was nearly forgotten.

Kevin

I banged on his window again. Goddamn
earphones. He startled this time and spun to look at me, pulling the buds out of
his ears. As he approached, I noticed his pathetic red eyes again. He’d been crying.
I was glad I’d changed my mind at the last minute and come to his house instead
of Brett’s. I made it a habit to check in with all of them from time to time, ensuring
they were doing exactly what they'd said they'd be doing. I’d have to kick some
serious ass if I ever caught them lying to me.

“You shouldn’t lock this shit,” I said
as he pulled up the window, clearly letting him know I didn’t appreciate being locked
out.

“You ever heard of a door?” he snapped
at me. I took a deep breath and steadied my temper. The point of my visit wasn’t
to scare him.

“Doors have parents. I don’t do doors,”
I said as I grasped the upper edge of the sill and swung myself in.

“But you do two-story trees and locks?”

Againwith the mouth. I could feel my
anger and turned away from him so he didn’t see it in my eyes.

“Again, you shouldn’t lock it.”

“And maybe you should try calling first.”

I heard myself mutter, “Hell!” as I
turned on him. “Listen, are you trying to get me to hit you, or are you just that
fucking stupid?” I blurted out. Shit, damn and fuck, I said to myself as I felt
my control slipping. I didn’t blurt, and I sure as hell didn’t accidently mutter
things I was thinking.

He took a step back at my obvious threat.
Now that it was out, I couldn’t really back down. I’d actually come over to play
nice. Well, yeah, I was patrolling, but I’d meant it to be a friendly visit. I was
an ass, but I knew damn well that I had to give them some small reasons to stick
around. I had planned on arranging for Jessica to sneak out with us later; he seemed
to like her. But now, because of his smart mouth, I had to be Mr. Fuckhead to him.

“So, what is it?” I said stepping towards
him. “Are you wanting to get knocked out, or are you fucking stupid? Because, if
you want to feel my fist in your face, who am I to tell you no?” If he had been
any one of the others, I would’ve already laid him out. I wondered what I was waiting
for.

To my surprise, he didn’t back down.
He just stood there. I could see the fear in his eyes, but there was something else,
something alive. He wanted me to fucking hit him. What kind of idiot just stood
there waiting for someone to hit them? What the fuck kind of person was I, not jumping
on the opportunity? I hesitated for about a millionth of a second, then put everything
I had behind a punch I knew would knock him on his ass. He didn’t even brace himself
for it. I connected just how I wanted and watched him crumple to the floor.

“You done now?” I spat down at him,
stepping away from him towards the window. “Leave this unlocked, would ya?”

Fuck, what was his problem? I’d been
in a decent mood, and after leaving him on the floor I just wanted to hit something.
How was I supposed to figure out what those goddamn eyes were hiding if he kept
making me lose it on him?

I was too irritated to even go to the
damn bar. I thought about finding Brett and starting something with him. He had
a quick temper; it was easy to goad him into a fight. But that would take effort,
and I was too fucking irritated to play games. Damn, all I’d wanted was to throw
a bone to the little shit.

With a perfectly good night ruined,
I headed home. I knew my father would be surprised by my early check-in since I
typically pushed it right until my 10:00 curfew, but I was pissed off and just wanted
to call it a fucking night. I stuck to my usual routine, changing my clothes before
entering the house.

“Hello.” I checked my tone at the door.

“You’re early,” I heard from his room
and made my way towards his voice. I knocked lightly and waited for his permission
to enter.

“Come in.” As soon as the door was open,
he continued. “Why so early tonight?”

“Not a lot going on,” I remarked.

“Keeping those grades up?” I almost
rolled my eyes at his predictability but thought better of it. I knew he always
checked my grades and attendance online. Thankfully, Christine had her study-period
as an office aid, and after a few dates and make-out sessions, she gladly updated
my absence record when I skipped class.

“Of course, sir. Things are going well.”
I turned and started to pull the door closed.

“I’m serious, Kevin. I raised you to
succeed.”

“Yes, sir, I know.” When he didn’t respond,
I added, “May I be excused?”

“You’re excused.”

I never heard the end of his success
stories. I knew my grandfather was a complete loser. I’d actually never met him,
but I’d always heard about what a ‘good for nothing’ he was. My father grew up with
nothing, working hard his whole life to have the nice house and respectable profession
as a high-profile investment banker. Perception was everything to him. If I did
anything that drew negative attention to our household, I was in for it.

I took the stairs two at a time. The
clock on my nightstand read just after 9:30. Hell, it was too early to be indoors
for the night. I knew it would be a restless one; thank god I had a stockpile of
Wild Turkey to help me pass out. My last thought as I drifted off to nothingness
was that it was time to throw a party.

The next morning I relayed my plans.
“So, my father’s going to be out of town again next week. Party time.” Light snowflakes
landed on my lit cigarette, dampening the paper slightly. First fucking snow of
the season. I hated the goddamn cold. Made it harder to stay outdoors. I shifted
the smoke in my hand to shield it from the snow.

That night at Dirk's, I had two goals
in mind: get party favors for the get-together and then hook up—both goals I was
confident of completing. After I had enough cash to treat the guys to a killer party,
and a little extra to put aside for a rainy day, I headed to Normandy and found
the table in the back where Jake hung out. I walked up, put my arm around him and
whispered in his ear.

“Can you hook me up tonight?” He nodded
slightly and I explained to him what I wanted.

“Gimme a minute,” he said, getting up
from the table. I watched as his lean, muscular body glided away from me. He was
all man, and it always surprised me when I saw him in drag because even then he
was fine as hell, the RuPaul of Utah for sure. I went to the bar and ordered a shot
and a beer from the tall, too-skinny-from-coke bartender, Franko. I slammed the
shot and made my way back to Jake’s table, all the while keeping a close eye on
a potential hookup for the evening. Several minutes later Jake brushed past me.

“Meet me in the john in a few,” he said
as he walked by without looking at me. I leaned against the wall and watched him
disappear into the front of the bar, then took a few swigs and noticed a guy watching
me. He was probably in his mid-twenties, and had one of the hardest bodies I had
seen in Normandy in some time. I played it cool and acted a bit disinterested, but
kept returning my gaze to him. When I finally stood to go meet Jake, I made it a
point to walk past him. I brushed up against him, slowly, made an obvious point
of checking him out, and simply smiled my half smirk. He was clearly interested.

Jake was able to meet all my needs,
and shared a bump with me before he left the john. I followed him out shortly after,
and went to find the man I knew I’d be going home with.

Rick

 “Why don’t you ever talk to me?” I
asked my dad, interrupting his conversation with Sylvia and Emma during one of our
rare family dinners. Sylvia and Emma stopped talking and looked at me in surprise,
but I was tired of his game, of letting him ignore me. I didn’t care if he yelled
or screamed. I needed something. I needed a reaction from him. “Dad! I’m talking
to you!” I said more forcefully, aware I was causing a scene in front of Emma but
unable to stop myself. He finally glanced over at me as if he had just realized
I was sitting at the same table. “Do you even know I’m here?”

“I really don’t care if you’re here,”
he said, looking back to Sylvia.

I slammed my fork down and it cracked
the plate. I stared at it for a moment, surprised.

“Rick, control your temper in front
of your sister,” Sylvia said bitingly, at the same time my dad said angrily, “What’d
you go an’ do that for?”

“To get your attention.” I snapped back
at him, ignoring Sylvia.

“Well, now you have it. What’s your
problem?”

“You! You’re my problem. Ever since
Jason died…”

“Don’t you dare speak his name,” he
interrupted, “not to me.”

“He was my brother. I can say his name
if I want to.”

He stood up abruptly, his chair falling
backward onto the floor. I heard Emma let out a little cry but I didn’t look at
her as my dad’s words sliced through me. “You killed him. You have no right.” He
came towards me and slammed his palms down on the table. My eyes darted fleetingly
to Emma, and I saw the tears welling up. “You’ll never mention him again or so help
me god!” he roared at me.

“Whatever,” I said, getting up from
the table. I had to stop Emma from seeing any more. He grabbed my arm and shook
me.

“I’m serious, Rick. So help me. Don’t
you ever speak his name in this house. Do you understand?”

I yanked my arm from him. “Whatever,”
I mumbled again, not daring to look at him. It was the only word I could muster.
I turned quickly and tried to walk casually towards the front door. I didn’t want
him to see how upset I was, but he was following close behind.

“Don’t you dare leave! I’m not done!”
he called after me. I picked up my pace and yanked the door open. It stuck a little
and I worried he’d grab me again. My heart was racing, and I could feel the adrenaline
course through me as I slammed the door and bolted into a run. I heard him pull
it open again, his screams fading as I took off.

He was right, but to hear those words
out loud was too much. I went to the only place I could think of—Zarahemla. I didn’t
expect anyone to be there and was glad to find the place empty. I found a pack of
smokes and lit up. Dang, it was cold. I hated this city and the stupid winter, I
hated not having Jason around, and I hated that my dad was right.

I threw my fist into a wall and the
rotted wood broke easily under my anger. My knuckles cracked a little and burned
as tiny slivers of pain traveled up my arm. I looked for anything I could find to
break or throw, trashing whatever I could get my hands on. I picked up a large board,
and as I hurled it against the wall I lost my balance and fell. Too exhausted to
stand back up, the emotion behind my anger washed over me. I knew he was right.
It was my fault. I had killed him.

Kevin

Not a lot escaped me. I found Rick’s
tirade at Zarahemla fascinating. I’d ducked out the back when I heard someone coming.
He was not quiet. This guy had some serious shit going on to freak the fuck out
like he did. As I observed his breakdown, it made me all that much more curious
about his story. None of the others had been nearly as interesting.

It was kinda hot seeing his anger explode.
He was usually so collected. I scoffed at the idea of giving him the time of day,
but pure testosterone always turned me on. Even more, I now had excellent ammo that
would serve my needs perfectly. If I could only pinpoint his weakness, this would
be the fuel I needed to keep him in line.

As I pulled my coat tight against me,
I thought of him with no coat, throwing his fist through the wall. I almost whistled
on my way home; he was going to be fun to break.

I was impressed the next day at school
when I asked about his cut-up hand. He admitted without hesitation that he'd thrown
it through a wall. When Mike asked why, he casually said because he felt like it.
He was almost as good as me at hiding his shit. The only difference was that I could
tell there was shit he was hiding, but no one had any clue about my life.

When the night of my party finally came,
I had the guys over a bit early. My father was headed out of town, and I wanted
him to see just the five of us. I'd let them know none of them better smell anything
like smoke when they walked in or I’d kick their ass.

“You boy’s going to watch some movies
or something tonight?” he asked us.

“Yes, sticking close to home.” I played
the part of the good son well; after all, it was what he expected of me.

“Come on. A bunch of juniors? Don’t
you want to have some girls over?” He was goading us, trying to play cool and find
out what my plans were. I knew he hated me having friends over, but I also knew
that his desire to be perceived as a ‘cool’ dad made him grant me this small freedom.

“I know the rules. No girls when you’re
out of town and friends gone by ten,” I replied automatically.

“Good. What are you watching?”

I nodded to Mike, who had picked up
the movies. He quickly recited the titles. I knew exactly what my father would want
to know.