Email address: pplesko@hotmail.com
Series/Sequel: Part 8 of "Rumors"
Pairings: Brian/OMC
Category: Angst, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Date: 7/26/03
Summary: A continuation of Brian's back-story; the confrontation
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Physical violence
Author’s Note: Brian is usually clever enough to avoid violence, but Hammer's threat to Troy brings a deep, emotional response...
Sensuality without love is a sin;
love without sensuality is worse than a sin.
José Bergamín (1895–1983), Spanish writer. El cohete y la estrella (The Rocket and the Star), 1923.
I began to see the gym, and the entire campus, in a different light… a straight-world version of Rumors’ back-room. Gay guys were there, too, mixed-in with all the straight ones. And all I had to do was to goad them into making the first move…and, once I knew they were interested, I could take over…and the rest would be back-room fun without the hour-long drive to Altoona. All I had to do was to make myself available… or perhaps even a little bit aloof…and they would find me.
…………………………..
I drove back to Altoona on Friday evening with the completed ad for Rumors and the accompanying paperwork…a release from the photographer to use the picture; a dozen black-and-white glossy copies of the photo-plus-text to send to magazines; and a list of business addresses for the magazines on Troy’s list. All he needed to do was to write the checks and we’d be in-business. Rumors would be a “destination” for horny guys from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia, Scranton to Charleston, and Buffalo to D.C. I had dreams of a gay hotel, a resort, the gay-capitol of the east coast, second only to New York. Big dreams…that’s what advertisers provide to clients….and to the target audience.
I got there just before the doors opened. After a few hard knocks on the front door, Troy let me in to help him…and I showed him the ad. He was so proud, he taped one of the pictures to the mirror behind the bar. “Get that shirt off,” he said. “Let’s open this place up for business.”
The Friday-night crowd always seemed to be frantic for pleasure. Perhaps the long work-week kept all the energy pent-up and ready to explode on the weekend. Although the place was usually more crowded on Saturdays, there was more noise, more intensity, and more blatant sexuality on a Friday. Everyone was wired!
“Take over for me,” Troy said, tapping me on the shoulder as I sat with my back to the bar, surveying the raucous patrons. “I need to get some more small bills out of the safe.”
“Sure,” I replied. “As long as they stick to beer and the standard mixed drinks, I think I can handle it.”
“I hope someone orders a “Cum-spray”…just to see the look on your face,” he said with a chuckle. “You’d probably consult the recipe guide before you realized he wasn’t ordering a drink.” We both laughed.
As soon as Troy headed upstairs to open the safe, Hammer entered with his usual entourage…but this time, there was a new “member”…a young kid who looked no older than 14. They had apparently stripped him in the parking lot because he was naked except for white bikini underwear and a collar around his neck attached to a short chain held in Hammer’s fist. A few guys were carrying items of his clothing. He looked a little bewildered or even frightened, covering his genitals with his hands as he move through the crowd of men trying to get a piece of him.
Hammer glanced in my direction. I wasn’t wearing the collar. As we locked eyes, his face turned dark and dangerous. Then he turned quickly and led the boy into the backroom and, presumably, downstairs. It took a few minutes for the noise level to subside to a gentle roar again. The sight of such fresh “meat” had aroused the meanest instincts.
Even Troy noticed it when he returned. “What happened?” he asked. “I heard some shouting when I was upstairs…and now everyone seems hyper. Were you dancing on the bar while I was gone?”
“No,” I said, not knowing exactly what to tell him. “Hammer showed-up…a big scene…he had a boy in-tow, definitely underage. At least I think he was. He looked scared.”
“He probably picked up another one of those hitch-hikers on the Interstate…run-aways from God-knows-where. He can sweet-talk ‘em onto the back of that bike and then make ‘em feel grateful. Then he twists it into sexual favors…and they’re fucked before they know it. I’ve seen it happen before.” His face was getting red. “But he’s not gonna get me shut-down for getting a minor drunk…or worse. He’s using my place as his own fuck-palace. I’ll be right back.” He reached under the bar to retrieve a cut-off baseball bat…something I’d never seen him use before. He pushed his way through the crowd and headed through the backroom. I’d never seen him so angry.
I tended bar for a few minutes, anxious for Troy’s return. Then I hear it…a wave of sound approaching like a freight-train. “A fight…a fight…there’s a fight downstairs!” The crowd surged toward the back room. I came around the end of the bar in a full-run and began shoving my way through the crowd. “You better help him," someone shouted to me. “They’ve got him.” The stairway was packed. I practically crawled over guys’ backs to reach the hallway, which was also packed with bodies. I shouted some obscenity, I don’t remember what, and a narrow passage formed so I could enter the room.
Three guys had Troy immobilized…arms behind his back…someone around his ankles… a forearm under his chin. His shirt was in shreds…and someone was working on the buckle of his pants. Hammer stood a few feet away, brandishing the cut-off bat like a dildo-sword. With his other arm, he grasped the young kid who was now totally naked and in-chains.
“Let’s see if he’s a tight as when I used to fuck him,” Hammer growled. “He hides behind that bar upstairs like a eunuch in a harem. Let’s show him what it’s really like, for a change.”
Troy struggled, but he couldn’t break the hold around his neck. He couldn’t open his mouth, but he was still trying to shout something. And he hadn’t seen me yet because he couldn’t turn his head. His pants were down around his ankles now and Hammer was stroking that bat as if he were lubing it for action.
“Let him go, Hammer!” I shouted.
“Well, here’s Lover-boy…to rescue his Daddy,” Hammer said as he released the boy, who shrank back into the crowd which quickly engulfed him. Hammer whirled to face me…and the men holding Troy turned him so I could see his face, fully, for the first time. There was a large cut over his right eye, which was blinded by the blood streaming from the cut. There was another scrape on the side of his face. He struggled furiously when he realized I was there…probably to distract Hammer’s attention from me. But Hammer stepped forward. “Are you ready, boy? Do you think you can take me… and all my buddies? You’re gonna get your ass fucked, too…and this’ll be a time you won’t want to count.”
“Just get out of here, Hammer,” I shouted. “Leave, and take your bunch with you. Troy is only trying to protect this place.” I turned to the crowd. “Can’t you see? If this place gets closed-down, where will you all go then?” I shouted. There was a mumble of agreement, but no one made a move to help Troy.
Hammer took another step, reaching for me as he swung the bat in a practice-swing. We circled each other as the crowd made room for us. I felt hands patting my shoulder…a form of encouragement. He was motioning “come on” with beckoning fingers as our eyes locked. Then he feinted a lunge and laughed as I jumped back. The crowd murmured a warning. Then he lunged again…for-real this time. I grabbed his hand in mine and immediately ducked under my own arm to twist his arm. He spun to the side in response to the pain…and I reversed direction, twisting the other way, bringing his arm up over his shoulder and back. As I applied all my weight to his hand, there was an audible tearing of ligaments and the crunch of bone. He yelled in sharp pain. Two fingers had folded back all the way to the back of his hand, and one showed a jagged bone fragment. The entire room seemed to freeze for a split-second that seemed like an eternity…then Hammer bolted for the door, knocking over several guys in his way. He fought his way up the stairs, one-handed, like a wounded animal. I followed for a few steps, but then returned to free Troy. The guys who were holding him had already released him and had melted back into the crowd. He rubbed his wrist and one shoulder, trying to get the feeling back in his fingers.
“Thanks, Bud. None of my Navy tricks worked. There were too many of ‘em.” He bent to pull up his pants. “You saved my ass.”
Those in the crowd who had hung-back in fear now came forward to congratulate me.
“He’s strong, but you’re fast!” … “Gave that fucker what he deserved.” … “Look out. He’s got a mean streak and a long memory.”
One of the regulars, who had “welcomed” me to Rumors that first night, slapped his hand firmly on my shoulder and said loudly, “Now we’ll have to call you ‘Breaker-Brian’ for breaking that fucker’s fingers... or maybe we’ll just call you ‘Breaker.’” That was how the nickname began... and the legend of the young knight deposing the King.
I asked the crowd to make-way as Troy and I went back upstairs. He washed his face in the bar sink while I prepared a plastic bag filled with ice to stop the bleeding. Then he resumed his bartending duties, despite a sore shoulder. I could see him wince occasionally as he hoisted two beers over the edge of the bar.
One of the older patrons called me over for a few words. “I was sitting right here when Hammer stormed out,” he said. “Mad as Hell. He said something about burning the place down, so tell Troy to watch out,” he added.
I relayed the message to Troy.
“I’ll mention it to Dan…the closeted cop who shows up here regularly. He’ll know what to do,” said Troy. “Maybe a restraining order…or a security guard. Maybe Dan could watch the place when he’s off-duty. He’d love getting paid for watching. That’s what he does most of the time anyway.” He smiled, despite the gravity of what he was suggesting.
The boy. I had forgotten him in the moments after the fight. Where had he gone? Was he OK? I went back downstairs to look for him.
He was crouching in the corner of the Pit, trying to look as small as possible. No one was harming him, but no one was helping him either. I knelt down and lifted his chin. Perhaps he was mildly drugged... his face showed no expression or recognition. His wrists were still cuffed to the chain that connected the collar to a leather cock-ring; his fists were tightly clenched in the iron cuffs.
“Are you OK?” I asked as I reached for the chain to pull him to his feet. He staggered to his feet, still trying to cover himself unsuccessfully with his cuffed hands. “Did anyone hurt you?”
“I’m kinda sore.....down there,” he murmured quietly, nodding in the general direction of his pelvis. They had probably stopped to fuck him along the road before bringing him to the bar for more games. “And my clothes....”
“First, let’s get you out of these cuffs,” I said, realizing that Hammer probably had the key... and he had probably headed for the hospital.
He jerked against the chain, but only succeeded in giving his cock and balls a vigorous shake. “Come with me,” I said. “Can you walk?”
He took a few steps as if he still had a cock buried up his tight, recently-virgin ass. “I think so,” he said, limping a little.
“All the tools are upstairs...where we’ve been working. But I can probably find something there to jimmy these old cuffs. They look like they’re left-over from Ivanhoe.” He didn’t have the faintest notion of what I was talking about. I led him up the stairs and to the freight elevator. There were a few catcalls and invitations. His youthful body, dirty and hunched-over, still had the appeal.
On the third floor, I found Troy’s massive toolbox which contained an old pair of bolt cutters, a cold-chisel, and a hammer... and I began to work on the cuffs. They were hand-made soft iron, so I could break the hasp without needing to tackle the much harder steel of the padlock. With his hands free, he quickly reached for the cock-ring while I unbuckled the collar. His wrists were abraded a little under the cuffs...and he rubbed them gently.
“Let’s get you cleaned up...and find some clothes,” I said. He nodded appreciatively.
I let him use the shower on the 2nd floor...and while he washed himself, I scouted Troy’s closet and bureau for anything the kid could wear. Everything was too big, but it would have to do...a large white tee-shirt, some long shorts, a long belt to cinch them up, and some flip-flop shower sandals.
He came out of the shower wrapped in two towels...one around his waist and one over his shoulders...as if showing a few inches of bare skin would get him fucked again. I tossed him the clothes and left the room. “Come downstairs when you can. The stairs are over there.”
“What are we gonna do with him?” I asked Troy after I explained what I had done.
“We’ll help him out a little and send him on his way, I guess. What’s his name?”
“I forgot to ask,” I replied, feeling a little foolish. Of course boys like him have names. The anonymity of Rumors was becoming the way I operated.
He came down the stairs at that moment, looking a little silly in the oversized, baggy clothing. The shirt hung off his shoulders and the shorts were gathered into pleats around his waist by the cinched belt. He looked abnormally small… like a kid trying on his dad’s suit for Halloween. But he had a smile now even though he still covered his pelvis with one hand as if protecting himself from attack.
“I’ll bet you’re hungry,” Troy said. “Not much for a growing boy to eat down here…some beef jerky, some milk or cream, …how about some peanuts or chips?” He was dragging food from the shelf behind the bar and stacking it in front of the kid. “And…what’s your name, by the way?”
“I’m Jeremy,” he answered. “But everyone calls me Jay-Jay because of my initials.”
“Right out of Junior High,” I thought to myself.
“Are you from around here?” Troy was leaning over the bar so the conversation would seem more personal and not an inquisition.
“I’m from Pittsburgh,” he said. “At least I was.”
“Did Hammer pick you up there?” Troy continued.
The boy looked around the room quickly at the mention of his name. “Yeah,” he said after a pause. “About 3 days ago. Me and my buddy…but we got separated along the way. He was riding on someone else’s motorcycle…and they just disappeared. Hammer said they’d catch-up, but they never did.”
“And you’ve been at his place?” I asked.
“I guess so,” he said vaguely. “There were other guys, too.” I could only imagine what he’d been through.
“Stay here tonight,” Troy interjected. “It’s after 1 am, so there’s no place else to go. And then we’ll decide what to do in the morning.”
JJ nodded his assent and propped his head with his hands, elbows on the bar. He looked like he could drift off to sleep any second.
“Back upstairs,” I said. “I’ll fix up a place for you to sleep…on the couch.” He complied eagerly.
“Thanks, Mister,” he said. I suddenly felt old.
…………………………
In bed, Troy and I discussed the options. Troy wanted to give him money for a bus ticket… but I knew he’d probably use the money for something else, or he’d head even farther from home and into the subculture of lost, exploited boys from which he had just escaped. I’ll take him back to Pittsburgh,” I said. “I know someone who’ll ‘mother’ him long enough to get some help and find his family. She did it for me…she’ll do it for him.”
“I’ll still give him some money,” Troy said. “He’ll either steal or pan-handle without it. And we both know where that’ll lead.”
“Are you OK?” I asked. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Strong enough to hold onto you,” he said dropping his arm over my chest. We lay there… too tired to do much more, but too awake to sleep. He lifted up to kiss my forehead. I snuggled closer, familiar now with his hard body and comfortable with his touch. I could lie with him like that…or even fuck with him…if only he wouldn’t take every action as a promise for the future. The future was too uncertain…for me, at least. Things to do…places to go…a career to launch…a life to make for myself. He wanted more than that…and every time I gave him a small bit of me, he wanted the whole package. I couldn’t give him what he wanted…and he couldn’t be satisfied with the here-and-now. We were at logger-heads even though our relaxed comfort with each other belied it.
Suddenly the door opened. We both startled, forgetting for a moment that JJ was in the Quarters. He looked around the edge of the door with wide eyes.
“I…sorta…had a…bad dream,” he said haltingly. He was only partially awake. “I woke up not remembering where I was…and all the memories came back…”
“You’re safe here,” I said, sitting up. He saw that I was naked…and in-bed with Troy.
“You guys are…that way too?” he said as he took a few steps through the door. “Can I sleep here?” he continued, looking at the broad bed without much spare room.
“You sure you want to?” Troy asked, wondering how he could tolerate the closeness after what he’d been through.
“I’d feel safer here,” he said, “than I would in the dark…alone. I think so, anyway. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want.” He started to drop to one knee.
“No,… right here,” Troy said patting the bed between us. “Just don’t mind my snoring and Brian’s kicking. He sleeps like a big dog sometimes.”
“You’re the first one to complain,” I added.
JJ crawled between us from the foot of the bed. Still wearing the baggy shorts, he lay between two naked men…touching neither of us. Then he closed his eyes, relaxed, and fell soundly back to sleep. Within a minute his mouth sagged open and his breathing slowed.
Troy gave me the “what now?” look…then reached for the light switch. We lay there, listening to him breathing, until we joined him in sleep.
……………………….
We woke up around 11. It was about a 2 ½ hour drive from Altoona to Pittsburgh…and then over 3 hours back to State College, so I wanted to get an early start. Or perhaps I’d drive back to Altoona to spend another night at Rumors. I hadn’t decided. We worked two hours on the Labyrinth, adding the final details. Even JJ helped with some touch-up painting. The opening would be the following Friday night. I didn’t want to miss it. There wasn’t time for massive advertising, so Troy was depending on word-of-mouth. Lots of guys had heard about the new addition; their curiosity was aroused. At five bucks a head the expenses for materials might be off-set the first weekend. And it would put the place on-the-map. Watching JJ try to find his way in and out of the maze proved that it would be a big hit. He was a smart kid. He learned to run through the whole maze in about 5 minutes…without the added incentive-to-linger that darkness would bring.
........................................
The drive to Pittsburgh was uneventful. He barely spoke. I think he was still a little afraid of me after the fight with Hammer. Afraid, perhaps, that I would do the same things to him that Hammer had done...but younger guys had never been much of an attraction to me.
He wouldn’t tell me where he lived. And he refuse to go to Deb’s, so I dropped him off at one of the major downtown bus-stops and gave him ten dollars. I think Troy had given him money, too... but I didn’t know how much. He did have the manners to say “Thank you,” but then he hurried off into the busy Saturday dinner-hour pedestrian traffic.
I could have gone back to Rumors... or to Michael’s... or back to my dorm in State College....but then I remembered Hammer’s descriptions of his trips to Pittsburgh and Liberty Avenue.
By the time we moved to Pittsburgh, Liberty Avenue had already undergone the transformation from run-down small businesses to the cheap-rent-district for gay-bars, porn shops, and other low-life entertainment establishments. But the artists had moved-in lately... and the 1930s architecture had been spruced-up and given a new coat of paint. New business had moved-in, too... copy-centers, avant-garde clothing stores, retro shops... so the place was bustling with activity.
I parked on one of the side-streets. Hammer wouldn’t be here. Two broken fingers would take a few days of recuperation before he could handle the bike again. No chance of an immediate return-match. I suddenly felt invigorated by “the hunt.”
Around the corner, the bar “La Cage” beckoned. [Later, it was combined with a store next-door and remodeled into the present-day Babylon.] It was early, but the crowd was gathering...not as familiar and friendly as Rumors...but the unknown had its allure, too.
I crossed the threshold to try my luck...