9 December 2007
Chapter 2: Early Night
“You are a complete waste of space, a tired and uninteresting piece of shit,” Claude said loudly, over the throbbing bass pumping out of the speakers at the other end of the room. He took a short sip of water from his plastic bottle and set it down on the bar. “I might as well ask my mother if she’d like to spend a night on the town with me, and considering how her hip bothers her, that’s saying something. What the fuck?”
Claude fussed a bit with his latex t-shirt to adjust the bulge made by his nipple piercing and studied Jake. He had a half-full rum and Coke in his left hand that he’d been working on for the last hour, and he didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at Claude’s tirade. Before Claude could continue, a trio of lean, giggly fags-in-training with shaggy Brit-pop hair and tongue piercings made their way past the two and sized them up as they headed off to the bathroom en masse. Claude watched the sweaty, shirtless group go with a wicked smile and rubbed his thigh suggestively when one of then glanced back at him to get another look. Claude then returned his attention to Jake, who hadn’t even bothered to check them out.
“What are you made of, steel?” Claude protested incredulously, gesturing to the bathroom door. “You’ve been glued to this bar rail, doing half-assed people-watching since we got here. Haven’t you’ve noticed what’s going on around you? Dancing, great drugs, people out on the dance floor doing things that you almost need latex to do safely, eighteen-year old adonises slipping off to the bathroom to make out and looking for extra participants… I think the technical term for it is ‘fun’.”
Jake sighed and took another sip of his drink. A familiar beat began blending into the mix, causing the dance floor to hoot and holler, and dozens of wallflowers left their spots to get their groove on. Claude thought briefly of ditching Jake and heading out there himself, but he didn’t want Jake to use it as an excuse to up and leave the club without him. He leaned back against the bar and downed the rest of his water, glaring at Jake with resentment.
“I can remember a time when you could wear me out dragging me from afterparty to afterparty,” Claude complained, signaling the bartender for a house shot with a five-dollar bill. “I don’t mean to be a bitch or anything…”
“Oh, of course not,” Jake laughed, sarcastically. “When do you ever.”
“What?” Claude asked, cupping his ear toward Jake. When he didn’t respond, Claud turned to watch the gyrating dance floor crowd while he waited for his shot. He spotted a new guy on the dance floor: early twenties, bleached-blond hair, baggy and beautiful, with a black jacket tied around his waist. He was moving like a pro, dancing completely alone with his eyes closed, looking a little scruffy and wild—Claude could tell he’d taken a spill earlier, but he might just be so fucked-up that he didn’t notice, or care. Claude knew full well that Jake had a renowned weakness for street trash, especially waifish students who wrote poetry and listened to angst-ridden pseudo-gay rock music. For his part, Claude had always insisted that his men shower at least once a day and preferably have a skin-care regimen and eyebrow tweezer. This kid wasn’t all that bad, though; Claude could make out a pretty decent body hidden under the baggy clothes as he swayed this way and that to the bass. And the bleached hair was a good sign; at least he gave a shit about his appearance, even if the results were a bit tired.
In a charitable moment, Claude elbowed Jake a bit to try and get him to look at the new kid. He didn’t usually encourage him in his trash-chasing, but it might be just the thing to snap him out of his funk, which was getting old fast.
Jake just turned around and faced the bar, though, setting his drink down and looking at his watch. Claude’s shot materialized on the bar in front of him and he downed the butterscotchy-tasting plastic cup of alcohol in one quick motion.
“Hold up,” Claude yelled. “You didn’t do any E, you don’t want to dance, you don’t want to check anybody out, you want to pussy out and leave?”
“Maybe I’m just tired,” Jake responded, finally raising his voice loud enough so Claude could hear. “I was up late on Friday doing research.”
“Here I am, even going so far as to point out potential fuckbuddies for you, motherfucker,” Claude continued, “and what thanks do I get? Does Claude have a job? Yes, he does. Do you don’t see Claude whining that he’s too tired to party on the weekends? No, you don’t.”
“Claude work nights, dufus,” Jake reminded him. “You dance at Trax three nights a week and you sleep until noon every day.”
“You,” Claude retorted, “are just trying to change the subject. Besides, I told you that if you just worked on your upper body a little more that you could get a job there.”
“Excuse me if I have career aspirations that don’t depend on the size of my tits,” Jake said in a low voice. Claude looked up with a questioning look, but Jake just nodded at him and took a larger gulp of his drink.
“Whatever,” Claude said, waving a ten-dollar bill to the bartender and holding up two fingers.
The blond kid from the dance floor stepped up to the opposite end of the bar and ordered a drink. Getting a closer look, Claude confirmed that he was exactly the kind of guy Jake was always mooning over: early twenties, baby-faced but definitely already world-weary, just the right mix of angelic and dirty. Probably fun in bed, but a lot more trouble than Claude was willing to take on. Claude never let Jake forget the time he took home the homeless punk painter and awoke to find that his laptop had been stolen. Jake had even tried to play it down, telling Claude that he’d been waiting for an excuse to get a new one, anyway, which was such bullshit.
If he pointed this kid out to him, Jake would owe him big time. But now, Claude was pissed.
“You know,” Claude said loudly, turning so he blocked Jake’s view down the bar, “you’re not even thirty yet. What are you going to do then? After three years of writing long, in-depth articles about medieval history and dukes and baronessess and shit, you are going to be tired each and every weekend. If you give up on your weekends now just because you get a little tired, you’re giving up on nightlife for good. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen.”
“Jesus Christ, Claude,” Jake shot back. “You’re such a fucking drama queen. It’s one Friday night. One! I told you I’d rather hang out on Saturday night so I could sleep in and get ready for it, but you…”
“Hello!” Claude interrupted sharply. “Saturday night is totally dead. Completely. But if you want nothing but bears and remixed teen idols as far as the eye can see, then by all means let’s make plans for Saturday night.”
“Okay, fine,” Jake mumbled.
“Saturday night is for late dinners and movies,” Claude concluded. “not for clubbing.”
“I’m sure there’s something,” Jake said, finally finishing the rest of his drink and fishing in his pocket, retrieving his wallet. He pulled a coat check ticket and a few dollars out of it. It took Claude a few moments to notice, but when he did, his approach changed drastically.
“Oh, come ON,” Claude said in a pleading tone. “Just one more hour, at least. I just ordered us two drinks!” When Jake didn’t respond, he continued in as sultry a voice he could muster over the loud music. “Hey, there’s this cute guy I saw on the dance floor earlier who’s just your…”
“I’m just tired, okay, Claude?” Jake said with an air of finality, shoving off the bar rail to stand up straight. “I’ve been working really hard on a new article all week, and it’s all I can think about. Maybe it was a bad idea to say yes to coming out tonight.”
“Well,” Claude said suddenly brightening up and making a complete u-turn, “why didn’t you just say so? It’s no big deal. Just go home and get some rest and we can do something tomorrow.” His broad smile concealed any trace of his ceaseless cajoling just minutes before, and Jake was momentarily disoriented.
“I can get along without you just this once,” Claude reassured him in a soothing voice, and gathered up the two butterscotch shots that appeared on the bar. “A shot for the road, and you can call it a night.”
“Oh,” Jake said. “Okay, fine. Good.”
“Good!” Claude laughed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Shit, and you say I’m a drama queen.” He looked past Jake and saw that the blond kid was seated at a table drinking his Long Island and looking at him. Claude smiled at him and toyed with his nipple ring bulge a little bit. The kid took a drink.
“You’re such a flake,” Jake said, half-heartedly, contemplating the plastic cup that Claude handed him. “Twenty minutes of bitching at me for wanting to leave, and then bam! like a faucet it just shuts off.” He mock-punched Claude in the chest.
“I know when to quit,” Claude responded. “I’m no fool.” Claude snuck another look across the room, just as the cute blond boy got his first look at Jake, and and could immediately tell that Jake wasn’t the only one with a “type.” The poor kid almost drowned in his drink before he spilled it onto himself. With reflexes like that, Claude could see how he managed to dirty himself up.
“Or, you know what?” Claude said quickly, taking the shot away from Jake. “There’s no point in you wasting this, when you’re just going to go right to bed. Why don’t you just run along and get your beauty rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow?”
While Jake looked confused, Claude noticed the kid getting up from the table and heading their way, his eyes locked on Jake.
“Hi”, the young blond guy said, staring directly at Jake. Up close, Claude could see he wasn’t a kid at all, mid-twenties or maybe even older; he just did the “chicken” thing really well. He had beautiful blue eyes and pale skin that flushed pink, probably because he’d been drinking. His upper body was even more developed than it looked from a distance, though he was still a little leaner than Claude usually went for. He seriously hoped this kid wasn’t one of Jake’s previous flings, or he wouldn’t stand a chance.
“I’m Claude,” Claude said, taking the kid into a welcoming embrace and taking the opportunity to rub the small of his back suggestively. “I’m glad you decided to come over and say hello. You almost missed the chance to say hello to my friend… it’s past his bedtime and he’s headed home. He’s tired.”
Claude accented the last word, hoping it came off as a warning, then disengaged from the new arrival and turned to face Jake. Jake was looking at the blond guy carefully, which made Claude think he was trying to remember if they’d slept together.
“This is Jake,” Claude interjected. “Jake, this is…”
“Matt,” the blond said, a little uncertain. The three of them stood silent for a bit. Claude tossed back one of the shots he was holding, then offered to other to Matt, who declined with a half-shake of his head. After a few seconds, Claude downed the second shot as well and tossed the cups onto the bar.
The DJ switched gears and put on a slower, sexier beat. The lights dimmed accordingly, with only occasional strobes and flashes of red to light up the scene, and the dancefloor soon was a mass of writhing, grinding bodies. Claude watched the scene unfold with interest, until turning back to the other two.
Jake and Matt were still looking at each other, curiously. Claude no longer thought that they hadn’t slept together—because they didn’t seem all that interested in sleeping together right now—but there was definitely some kind of familiarity they were trying to figure out. Maybe they’d been in elementary school together or something. Whatever.
“Hey Matt,” Claude said, rubbing his shoulder firmly. “You want to get out there on that dance floor?” He looked Matt up and down and smiled a devious smile.
“Sure,” Jake said, a hint of bewilderment in his voice. “You guys have fun. I’m going to head home.” Matt watched as Jake walked away, even watched as he walked down the stairs. When he was finally out of sight, there was no one else to look at but Claude, and so Matt did. He started in surprise when he realized the Claude was pressed up close against him, his breath smelling of butterscotch and liquor.
“We could either go and get it on out there,” Claude said, his words having the faintest slur in them, “or we could just get out of here and go to my place.”
The cool night air was refreshing. Especially on the top floor of the bar, there was always too much cigarette smoke, cologne and stale air, and it was good to take a decent breath. Jake walked briskly home.
He’d made just one stop: to get an bottled iced coffee from the all-night convenience store on the corner. For some reason, his body always reacted in the opposite way to caffeine, and it often helped him sleep if he was wound up. And tonight he was most definitely wound up.
The night felt darker than usual. It was supposed to be a full moon and bright out, but the overcast was denser than usual and it was black as tar. Once he got out of the Broadway commercial district and headed into the more residential area, streelights were even fewer and further between. Usually it didn’t make him nervous to walk home at night alone, but something in the air tonight made him uneasy. The leafless trees loomed over him in the shadows, their knotted branches swaying almost imperceptibly in the breeze, gnarled long fingers, menacing. He gulped down some of the iced coffee and sealed the bottle again, a shiver from the cold drink going through his body. Next time, hot coffee, he thought.
At first, he thought his nervous feelings started when he met that blond guy, Matt, at the bar, but he remembered feeling on edge earlier in the evening as well, when he and Claude had done some bar hopping before ending up at R Place. Claude had been going on and on about some movie about acrobats that he wanted them to go see, but Jake had hardly heard him, too caught up in staying alert as they made their way down the more deserted streets. Nothing strange had actually happened to them all night—except for that strange feeling of recognition he had when he met Matt—but it still put him in a foul mood and ruined his evening. It’s hard to relax and enjoy yourself when you can’t stop looking over your shoulder.
Jake was about halfway home when he heard something rustle behind him, and he snapped out of remembering the night’s events to listen more carefully. He didn’t miss a step, and made no effort to go faster, he just tried to walk more quietly and listen for whatever might be out there. He tried looking across the street, hoping he could catch whoever was behind him in his peripheral vision, but it was too dark, or whatever was following him was too far back for him to see.
Whatever? Whoever. He shuddered at the unfamiliar horror-movie thoughts that were running through his head. Halloween was long gone; they’d been through Christmas and New Year’s and were well on their way to Valentine’s Day. This wasn’t the kind of mindset he should be in.
He walked for another half-block before he heard another sound distinct enough to pinpoint. This one was closer than the first. Whoever was there was definitely gaining on him.
It pissed him off to be worrying about someone following him in the dark. He knew he should be more pragmatic, and not think like this, but all he could imagine doing was surprising the asshole and beating the shit out of him. It was stupid. For all Jake knew, the guy could have a knife or a gun, and messing with him would be the last thing he’d want to do. Still, he knew that a lot of people who follow gay guys around in the dark don’t base their decision to kill or maim then on whether they fight back or not. His fists clenched and he listened again.
He heard a shoe scuff on the sidewalk, not ten feet behind him, and took that exact moment to spin and lunge as hard as he could directly at whoever it was. He gave out a bellow and hurtled into the dark figure, who toppled to the ground under his weight. His bottle of coffee slipped out of his hand and smashed on the sidewalk next to them, only the plastic wrapper holding the shattered container together. The thing underneath Jake was cold and damp, a dark formless shape except for… a bright patch of blond hair…?
Matt let his arms down slowly. His black jacket was wet in the evening mist, and insulated enough to keep the warmth in. His face was flushed, though this time probably from fear rather than Long Island Iced Tea. Jake pushed off of the sidewalk and sat up in a crouch a foot or so from Matt, unclenching his fists, but still ready for anything.
“What the fuck!” Matt squeaked, his voice panicky. “I’m just walking home, like you…”
“Sorry!” Jake said, intending to be angry, but finding that he genuinely did feel bad for scaring the guy, despite the fact that he’d been following him and freaking him out as well. “I just thought that… well… that something was…”
“I just figured I’d walk with you,” Matt stammered as he got to his feet, a little shaky. “You had kind of a head start on me and it took me a while to catch up.”
Jake waited until Matt was on his feet and seemed steady enough to keep walking, and then Jake started moving again. Soon they were walking side by side, heading down the dark residential streets.
Jake stole occasional glances at Matt, still trying to figure out where he might know him from, and eventually caught Matt doing the same thing in return. It was such a strange feeling; it wasn’t as if he could ever remember seeing Matt before, but he had the distinct impression that they must have met.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Jake asked bluntly, not interested in prolonging the uncertainty. “It’s driving me crazy.”
“No?” Matt asked back, unhelpfully.
“Did we meet at a party or something?” Jake pressed on. “I mean, not like did we hook up at a party, because I’m not the kind of guy who would just forget someone that he hooked up with…”
“I really don’t think so,” Matt said, suddenly bristling a little. “Not a chance.”
Despite saying so, Jake did worry for a moment that they’d slept together and he’d just completely forgotten. Though it was hard to imagine he’d forget making out with someone who looked like Matt. What if it had been that time while he was rolling on E and he didn’t remember? Maybe they’d both been blitzed? Shit, shit, shit.
“Maybe we just remind each other of someone we know,” Matt offered. “It’s not so weird to have someone remind you of someone, and it could be just coincidence that it’s happening for both of us.”
“Well, who do I remind you of, then?” Jake challenged.
Matt was silent as they walked, as if he was trying really hard to come up with a name. A few times, he rubbed his temple, like something was bubbling just below the surfact and he could almost, almost remember what it was. Finally, he just shrugged wordlessly.
“It’s just weird,” Jake said.
They walked until they got to Jake’s block, then turned left.
“You live down here, too?” Jake asked. “Maybe we’re just neighbors. I might have seen you mowing your lawn or something.”
Matt shrugged again.
“When did you bleach out your hair?” Jake suggested. “Is it black or brown when it’s natural…”
“Look, I don’t know, okay?” Matt said, suddenly testy.
“Fine, whatever,” Jake muttered. As they got closer and closer to Jake’s building, he started to think that Matt didn’t live anywhere near here. Seattle was a small enough city that he could recognize a lot of gay guys on sight, especially the really hot ones. The notion that Matt could live either right across the street or a few buildings down from him was completely impossible.
“Why did you want to walk with me?” Jake asked, his voice almost a whisper. He could feel a warm sensation rising up his neck to his ears, and he became aware of Matt’s looks again. His eyes, his lips. Jake was sure he didn’t chase him out of the bar just to walk him home.
Matt didn’t answer at first.
“Come on,” Jake said, walking a little slower so they were closer together. “Why did you follow me home?”
“Um,” Matt said, sheepishly. “I don’t know… maybe… safety in numbers.” He stared down at the sidewalk as they slowed to a saunter.
“Saftey in numbers?” Jake asked. “What’s that supposed…”
Just then, a swarm of sickly gray tentacles slithered out from behind a dark tree trunk.
[Leave a comment, then continue with Chapter 3…]
oooh is there going to be hentai style tentacle rape? ^_^
I am looking forward to more. You’ve got me hooked.