Wonderland (19 page)

“I
don't know what you're talking about.” I wanted to smack the smug grin off his face.

“Walter told me everything. He told me you painted my door, he told me you got him to lie about Aaron.”

“And let him suck your dick for it!” Brandon yelled, jumping on Allan and pummelling him with his fists.

Allan screamed out, and as much as I didn't care, I pulled Brandon off. Allan lay there on the floor, shaking. Brandon was vibrating and panting. “Stop it!” I told him. “I need answers and that's not helping. You can pound on him later.”

“Fuck you both,” Allan said.

“Just tell me. What the fuck did I ever do to you?”

“I just did it for money! I got offered a thousand dollars to do it. Well, part of it was for that fat fuck, but why share my money when he was just as happy to suck my dick?”

“Don't you have any respect for yourself?” Brandon asked.

“Oh grow up. Why would I respect myself? We're just fags.”

“How did you get so twisted so young?” I asked. “No, never mind. I don't even care. Where's Steven?”

“I don't know. I never met him.”

“You're lying. You left your wallet at his house and then broke in to get it. Did you have to smash our pictures?”

“What? I never did that.”

“Allan, don't fuck with me. Brandon told me you lost your wallet.”

“Yeah, so what? When you've got a cock like mine, fags will pay for anything you need.” He sneered at Brandon, who jumped on him again. This time, Allan was ready and got in a punch on Brandon's jaw.

“You fucking bastard! I liked you!”

“Brandon! Not now!” I hollered. “Allan, who paid you this money? And why?”

“Some guy, I don't know his name.”

“Look,” I said, getting to my knees, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him so close to me our noses were nearly touching. “Tell me everything you know right now or you're going to be very, very sorry.” Allan bravely licked his lips and smirked. “I'm not fucking kidding, Allan. Start talking.”

“Some guy came up to me at the bar last Friday and pointed you out.”

“Who? What guy?”

“I'd never seen him before. Late twenties, tall, good-looking, but just a fag.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He asked me if I wanted to make an easy grand, and I said of course. I figured he wanted to fuck me or something. Who doesn't want to get with me, really? But he said I just had to play a few little tricks. Nothing even that bad. Slip you some G, shit like that.”

“G? When was that?”

“The other night in the club. When you went home for that foursome.”

That didn't make it better, but it did explain it a bit more anyway. Why didn't that help with my guilt though? “Did he say why?”

“I didn't ask. He just told me where you lived and what to do.”

“And just gave you the money?”

“No, only two hundred dollars. I didn't get the rest till last night. Fuck, we had a kiki.”

“I don't care about your drug-fueled orgies. So you saw this guy again?”

“Yeah, a couple times.”

“How does he get a hold of you?”

“I gave him my number.”

“Do you have his?”

“No, it's blocked.”

“And why me then? Was that why you came on to me?” Brandon asked, crying.

Allan shrugged. “You were a hot piece of ass, too, and it's always good to blow the bartender.”

I raised my hand to preemptively hold Brandon off from giving the kid another well-deserved beating. “Is there anything else you're doing for him?”

“No, I'm off the hook, now free to enjoy my money. It was easy and it was fun.”

“Was that why you were at White Night?”

“I was just supposed to make sure you hooked up. Sure didn't take you long either. For someone supposedly so in love.”

“What do you know about love?” Brandon spat at him.

“Brandon, chill! Go calm down in the other room and leave me and Allan alone for a minute.” Brandon went into the bedroom and slammed the door. “Okay, Allan, look, I don't give a shit what your problems are. You're clearly fucked up and you're going to have a miserable life. I just want to know how I can find this guy.”

“You're out of luck, Alex. He met me at the bar last night, and the money went from him to me to the Caterpillar and I was off. All I had to do was make sure I knocked over that drag queen.”

“He was at the club last night?”

“He was sitting right behind you.”

“Who? What was his name at least?”

“His name was A Thousand Dollars. Who the fuck cared what his name was? It was cash. He was just some guy.”

I looked him in his soulless blue eyes. I knew that was all I was going to get from him.

“Get out of here,” I said, letting go of him.

H
e was up and out fast, slamming the door behind him. Brandon came bounding out of the bedroom. “What the fuck? Why would you let him go?”

“Oh, shut up and calm down. We're following him.”

I stuck my head into the hallway. Allan was waiting for the elevator. He didn't even think to glance back as he got in. “Come on,” I said as soon as the door closed, and Brandon and I raced down the stairs to the lobby.

“What are we doing?” Brandon asked.

“I think he does know who this guy is, and I bet he gets in touch with him. If he got a thousand bucks out of him so easily, a user like that will want to keep him around.”

The elevator stopped, and Allan got out. We watched from the stairwell. He was on his phone, and that was a good sign as far as I was concerned. Allan left the lobby and headed down the street.

“Quick. Let's go.”

It was ridiculous to see, I'm sure, the way we followed Allan, leaping behind light posts, peering out from behind buildings. Brandon got caught up in it, and started acting even more obviously furtive, if that's even a thing. Allan didn't look back once. He was still on his phone. Who was he talking to? Where was he going?

Eventually, he reached an apartment building and we watched from across the street as he spoke on the intercom and then was buzzed in. As soon as he was out of sight, we ran up but the directory was only numbers, no names.

“What now?” Brandon asked.

“I guess we wait,” I said. “I doubt Allan will answer your calls at this point.”

“Who do you think he's talking to? The guy who paid him?”

“That's what I'm hoping. It's my only hope right now.” There was a Starbucks across the street, and Brandon and I went and got coffee, never taking our eyes off the front door of the building.

We'd no sooner sat down than my phone rang. It was, unsurprisingly, the dreaded unknown number. “What?” I said into the phone.

“You're being a little aggressive, don't you think?”

“Because we roughed up your twink? It's going to get a lot worse for you when I find out who you are. Just tell me this, why me and Steven?”

“Proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“Proof that you fags are twisted and don't even know what real love is. You say you're the same as everyone else, but you're not. You're depraved and perverted.”

“Look who's talking! Look at what you've done, what you're doing.”

“Do you want to talk to your boyfriend, Alex? Do you want to tell him everything you've done?”

“Yes, I want to talk to him.”

“Well, you can't. You can sit there, sipping your coffee, and you can think you're in love, but I know the truth.” He could see us, I realized! As I listened to his ranting, I scanned the building across the way, and sure enough, I could see, in a window on the third floor, a shadow standing there. “I know how sick you really are.”

“What do you want? Do you want me to agree with you? Do you want me to tell you that yes, I'm human, I made mistakes? Yes, I'm a man, sometimes I think with my dick and do things I regret? I've done drugs when I knew it was stupid, I've sucked dick when I knew it was wrong? That doesn't change anything about how I feel about Steven.”

“How you feel about Steven . . . oh yes, Alex, talk about your feelings, like a fucking sissy. You make me sick.”

“I want to talk to Steven. Let me talk to Steven.”

“I want to talk to Steven. Let me talk to Steven.” In his mimicking tone, for a second, I almost recognized the voice.

“Goddammit! What do I have to do to end this already? White Night, the show, I don't get what you're after.”

“You will.” He laughed. “Oh you will.” He hung up.

“Fuck!” I said, slamming my phone down.

“What?” Brandon asked. “What does he want?”

“I don't know. I have no fucking clue!”

“Look!” Brandon said, pointing across the street. Someone was holding the door of the building open as an old woman unloaded groceries from a cab and took them into the lobby.

“Quick!” I said. “Before that door closes.”

We ran across the street and through the open door. I raced up the stairs to the third floor. It had been on the street side, two in from the corner. Was that him? Was that where he was? Was Steven there?

“Wait, wait,” Brandon said, panting behind me. “What are you going to do? You can't just smash a door down.”

“Like hell I can't,” I said, and threw myself at the apartment door.

“O
w! Fuck!” I said, lying there on the hallway floor.

“Like I said, you can't. You're mad, but you're not that strong.” Brandon offered his hand to help me up.

The door opened. An old man stood there in the doorway. “What's going on out here?”

“Let me talk to Steven!” I said, scrambling to my feet and pushing myself into his apartment.

“Here now! What's your issue?” he said, stepping in front of me.

“Steven!” I called. “Steven!”

“Alex, come here!” Brandon yelled from the hall.

“Fuck!” I heard someone else yell. It was Allan's voice. “Sorry!” I apologized to the man as I ran back into the hall. Allan was running down the stairs. “Where did he come from?” I asked Brandon.

“There!” he said, pointing at the next door over.

“Open up!” I yelled, banging on the door. “Open this fucking door!”

“You kids, I'm calling the cops if you don't clear out.”

“Shut up!” I screamed at the old man. “Open up! Brandon, go grab Allan.”

“Why . . .”

“Just do it, and get him back here.” I slammed into the door with my shoulder. “Open up!” Brandon took off after Allan down the stairs. The neighbor had retreated back inside. Part of me hoped he was calling the police. They'd get me in. “Open up! Steven!”

The door opened. “Alex, hello.” He was familiar, but I didn't know him.

“Who are you?”

“It's been a while,” he said, “but I'm surprised you don't recognize me.”

“Should I?”

“We went to school together for ten years.”

The man's face wandered through my mind in search of a memory. It came to me, the picture of two kids and a computer screen filled with tits. “Nathan?”

“Well done, Alex. You might as well come in.” He pushed the door open the whole way, and there, in the middle of the room, was Steven, tied to a chair, his eye bruised, his lip bleeding. It was my worst nightmare, and this time, I wasn't waking up.

“Steven!” I ran to him. “Oh my God, my God, my God. Are you okay?” I pulled the gag out of his mouth, my eyes stinging with hot tears. I touched his face, and he flinched.

“Alex, thank God, thank God, thank God.”

I kissed his lips, tentatively.

“Now, now, none of that sick faggot shit.”

I spun around. Nathan was locking the door, pulling the chain across it. “What a touching reunion. Who'd have thought that you'd be so happy to see each other when you just spent the night with your ex?”

I lurched to my feet. “What the fuck? Why?”

“Because you're sick, Alex. I've known it since school. When you tried to touch me. You're wrong. And it's spreading.”

“What is?”

“Your sickness. Your disgusting faggotry. It's everywhere. It didn't used to be, but now it is, and people think it's okay, people think it's normal, people think you're just born like that. I know better! I know how wrong it is. Look how easy it was to get you to betray someone you say you love. You don't know love. You're twisted. Twisted!”

“Nathan, it
is
normal! You
are
born that way. Look, it's—”

“Shut your lying mouth! It's wrong!”

“Let us go, Nathan. Let us go, and I won't say anything. Just let us go.”

“I don't think so, Alex. It has to stop. The spread of the disease has to end now.” He reached behind his back and pulled out a handgun. He raised it. “God wants me to stop it.”

“Nathan, no!” I screamed, and jumped toward him. I knocked the gun from his hand, knocked him to the ground. We grappled. I was vaguely aware of Steven calling out for me. Nathan was stronger than me though, I could tell, and although I struggled against him, he pinned me to the ground, and slammed his fist into my face. Pain and fire shot through my head, and the room went dark.