Name was Tommy for a while. AKA Chayvon the other days of the week, elsewhere. He called me Levee, said the name Levi was for jeans, not a guy in baggy cargo shorts. I became Levee that month.
Tommy came on Friday afternoons, stayed till Saturday, twenty-four hours. Soon as the doors at the church shut behind services on Saturday, he was gone. Tommy on four Fridays in August that summer.
Didn’t act like other kids. He appeared confident, smarter than most. Wise look in his eyes and a dark, sleeveless hoodie zipped up to his neck; didn’t scan the environs, he sized it up. Hair full and thick; dark waves and curls, slender tan legs and torso, perfect boy sitting alone on the boardwalk by the Hammerhead Fry joint.
“Want some fries?” I joked, seeing him watching all the people leave with hot, fresh food. I knew that look.
“Fries?” He glanced around, “Me?”
“Sure.”I stepped up to the window, an old acquaintance owned the place.“ Tell Stoddard that Levi came by. Put a few onion rings on the top.” He handed me a large, deep, paper cup warm with fries, I gave it to the kid. “You here for vacation?”
“Thanks.” He squirted catsup and vinegar.
Sat on a bench in the shade of a gaudy souvenir shop as the sun set behind us. “You on vacation?” I repeated.
“No, just here tonight and tomorrow till around one, or two. Got a gig at the church, Faithful Steward Fellowship.” Glanced out at the surf, “You know it?”
Scanned the boardwalk as he ate, checking the locations of the cameras, “Yep, one of the oldest in town. Where’s your Mom now?”
“Working.”
Found out Mom rented a room at one of the seaside hotels. Gave Tommy the key to her rented van. He was supposed to sleep there while she worked Friday afternoon and evening, Saturday all day. Then, they’d clean up and dress before checkout.
She played the organ while he sang.
Kid must be good if he got a gig at the church, it wasn’t the biggest place but had a devoted membership, I heard. Maybe I’d go sneak in the back of the church to hear him.
“Let’s walk the pier, see what they’re catching.” Left footprints across the damp sand, onto the pier lined with fishers, bright gear, buckets. Noted the freighters on the horizon and caught a whiff of his sweat behind the fries; he needed a shower, clean clothes.
“Do cruise ships come here?” He stuffed his mouth and wiped his fingers on his shorts.
“Further north, we don’t have a deep port. You been on a cruise?”
“I wanna work on one. Mom says someday, maybe.” He tugged the leg of his shorts down; it didn’t stay down.
A glimpse of white briefs held a small package inside too-small, too-short cutoffs and he knew it. “Thanks for the fries.” He gave me a quick smile and tossed his empty cup, licked his fingers with a bright, pink tongue.
* * *
Around the time the sun was setting, he said he had to go check on his mom, explained their rubber band system. Tommy had to go check if there were any rubber bands on the doorknob to her room. One band for each customer she’d lined up. Slick system, he wouldn’t disrupt them. No rubber bands meant he’d have a bed for the night.
We walked over to the hotel. I waited in the lobby, hoping he’d return. He did, and held up three fingers. Mom’d be busy into the late evening. “Anything I make tonight is mine.”
“You’re on your own?”
No answer, he only held the van keys in my face. “Got it covered.”
Eyed him while I considered this simple but effective arrangement and nodded, “If you’re still hungry, my place is two blocks off the boardwalk. C’mon, I got sweet tea and you can get cleaned up. That sound alright?”
“You own a house? Here?”
“No, I don’t own a house here. These places are worth millions. I’m the caretaker for the owner. I get paid to keep the house from being wrecked by the vacationers.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t slump or look away, but held his head up high on a slender neck that carried a few rings of dirt like a tight necklace of tiny gray beads. He hesitated, licked his lips like he wanted to say something, eyes darted around.
“I’m not going to jump you. Just me, and I need to get back to work.” I turned. Took a few moments for him to think. We walked toward the strip, I imagine he was calculating time and money; transient sex workers are common in a tourist town. Tommy took me to their van, grabbed a brown paper bag with apples, crackers and a half a jar of peanut butter.
“Let’s get chips.” Between the over-priced boutiques, shell shops and trinket vendors we found the small bodega. Coursed the old pathways off the strip between the other beach rentals to my apartment—only a bath, and a room with a kitchenette to the side in back of an ancient Victorian remodeled into four rentals.
* * *
Rock music blared, laughter and several languages; the Europeans guys were lodged upstairs. They stayed blasted, stoned; harassed the locals and generally made life miserable for the women walking past.
Inside, “This is it. Make yourself comfortable.”
He looked around, “Looks like our place. Hey—where’s your bed?” I sat down at the computer on the kitchen table, checked my email.
Pointed to the wall, “Murphy bed, it folds down.”
He nodded, took his hoodie off, and pointed to the shower.
“Use what you can find. Clean towel’s behind the door.”
Coming renters were stuck in traffic at the Bay Bridge, they’d be late. I reassured them I was waiting. Found a clean shirt and a pair of trunks with a drawstring, tapped on the bathroom door. “I’ve got to do my rounds—here’s clean clothes.”
Grabbed a bag, clipboard, stepped outside into the last few rays of sun and picked up trash, noted damage in the hallways, on the veranda. Several renters were drunk, draped over the Adirondacks, yelling at the passersby. I just smiled and nodded.We charged plenty if they destroyed anything, and if they preferred to burn their vacation in the jail, it lightened my load. Picked up a lot of good junk from the guys who had to leave all their crap for a trip to the cop shop that lasted past their check-out. Our rooms stayed booked eight months straight, every year.
* * *
Tossed the trash, emptied the outside bins and went back to find Tommy making a sandwich and tea. We sat out on the back steps to eat, watching a few people course the pathways between the houses. I could smell the soap on him, and saw he’d combed his thick waves back, they were drying, bunching up—looked like a beach kid. Unkempt and relaxed. Went on my rounds with me, I picked up the food containers and beer bottles off the front porch noting there were several thin vodka flasks, all empty. Ash trays full and stinking; butts in the hedges. Street traffic, horns honking, music from the radios around dinner time and still loud on the strip.
We walked the boardwalk quietly window shopping, reading the flyers; passed bar with a rainbow banner, “Welcome.” Smell of smoke and beer, heard men’s voices, ballads. He stopped and looked inside, then grinned. I shook my head.
Back at the house, late renters arrived, I turned to him, “You can stay in my place instead of sleeping in the van. Hose the front down, smells like piss and booze. That’ll earn your keep.”
Tommy got the hose and began rinsing while I got the renters settled in. Family with two girls, about fourteen, fifteen.“Let me know if you have any problems, we’ve got some partiers upstairs.”
In my room, “Gonna stay tonight?”
“I’ll take the couch.”
The couch was short, same size as a seat in the van. “Sleep where you like.” I pulled down the bed and went to shower.
Around midnight, I heard one of the loud guys singing, laughing, stumbling up the stairs. Only one, the others must have found a gal or a party. I woke up, checked the property and came back to find Tommy in my bed. “Move over.”
* * *
Couldn’t recall sleeping this close to another person. I’d crashed in a lot of strange places, always kept my cash in my left shoe and a baggie in my right shoe—found a way to avoid being too vulnerable next to another smacker—rob you blind if you let ‘em.
Dad worked the fishing boats, Mom dealt at the casino. Left us kids alone often, didn’t get much rearing.
Brother and sister joined the service and left after high school. I roamed the streets, started hustling and using. Stayed in the biz too long. Sun, surf and speed took my smooth skin, clear voice, scars over veins defined my past. Best thing in the world getting caught dealing.Got cleaned up but found out it was too late for me to make much of myself. Had a record and no training in a legit trade, I had to settle for what life gave me. Husk of a man at thirty but ran into a second career—property management.
Parked a used camping trailer on Treasure Beach, lived there a while. Sold the trailer, stayed in town managing the room rentals. Owner lived out of town and made a mint with his old family house. High ceilings, brass hardware, quite a jewel for all the renovations.
My job was to collect the miscellaneous fees, drop them in the bank and keep the renters from burning the place down. Touched up the paint, kept it spotless, bright. Hell dealing with the entitled renters but gave me a place to stay along the strip. I was comfortable with all the tricks and vice that went on nearby; knew how to deal with it quietly. Unspoken law to keep a good front for the families with heavy wallets.
* * *
At dawn, I was up with the first sounds of beer bottles hitting the bins in the alley, made toast and coffee, opened a can of milk.“I’m gonna come hear you sing.”I held a shaver in my hand, the morning felt different with someone to speak to; someone so good looking. Half-child look about him, almost angelic.
He rolled over, stretched and shook his head, “Don’t come. They’ll baptize you. Twice if they think you need it.” He pulled me next to him. “Come back.”
I lay beside him, slung my arm over his chest. “I want to hear you sing. Bet you’re good.” I pulled him against me, “You study music at school?”
“I miss a lot of school.” He buried his face in my chest. “Thanks for letting me stay. What time is it?”
“Almost six.” I pulled him closer, feeling his morning stem pressing against my thigh. Made me hard, but I wasn’t so aroused as I was sparked with hearing him, seeing him smile. His presence broke the emptiness in my life. A beating heart, chest moving with breaths, eyelashes on my skin and all those soft, thick curls felt foreign and not uncomfortable.
This was illegal, and could become addictive, me holding a strange boy in my bed. Didn’t feel criminal; old addictions began a distant rumble inside me.
He came back to bed after he rinsed his mouth and peed. We lay there enjoying the sun warm the sheets through the window, I heard rustling in the house above us. “I have to go check, stay here. When I come back, I’ll bring jelly-toast.”
He lolled on the bed, still sleepy. I made my rounds. Two of the groups of renters left to fish. Other than that, all was quiet.I brought coffee, toast. Tommy was sitting in the bed, half-covered by the sheet, playing with his cock. He grinned, pulled the sheet up and scooted over. Room was warm, smelling like the sea and our night sweat, unwashed boy-dick.
He told me about he and his mom finally moving out of the big shelter in DC and into a small apartment. She held a part-time job and worked clients at night. Didn’t understand all he said about the arrangement she had going with the different social services. Didn’t quite understand when he said that’s why he was Tommy at the beach and Chayvon at home—some kind of marketing strategy. We both jumped when I heard a loud banging on the door.
“Hey! Levi, I gotta go. Need my refund.” The one European who came in last night was leaving early. Kept beating the door till I opened it.
“I don’t keep any cash.” He had his bags in hand.
“Gotta go.”
“Wait.”I got a business card and penciled in the Travelers Aide phone number and address. “Where’s your friends?”
“Who knows—they were on a yacht last night with some guys from Philly, I think.” Checked his watch, “I gotta get to the Atlantic City airport.”
Locked the door behind me, “Let’s check your room.”
Inside their room was a mess.Trash, clothes, filled ashtrays.“What about all this?” I pointed to the clothes, bags, paraphernalia strewn around.
“They’ll be back to check out in the morning.”
I nodded, glanced in the bathroom; fixture was cracked, one slat of the blinds lay on the floor. Checked my phone, the rental wasn’t made to this guy but one of the other Europeans. I could only ask the owner to refund partial payment to the guy who signed the contract. Gave him the Travelers Aid info and explained where the office was.
He cursed me all the way down the block.
Tossed our clothes in the washer and went back to find Tommy rinsing the dishes, smiling. “What you so happy about?”I grazed my lips through his hair, taking a deep whiff.
“Lotta sleep, feel great. What did that guy want?”
“Cash refund I can’t make. The others left a lot of shit, dammit.”
“If someone loses a CD player, save it for me.”He shot me a smile and a glance from the corner of his eye.
“I’ll do that.” He stood in the sunlight, glowing. Slight satiny-sheen of sweat, fluffy curls making a halo around his head; slender neck pulsing with life; beautiful. He looked up and smiled with full lips stretched wide across an even row of white teeth.“Bet you got a lot of girlfriends at school.”
Looked back to the sink, “Boyfriends, but I don’t waste my time with them. Mom hooks me up with old guys.” He said it out loud, unembarrassed.
Suspected half of that. His mother pimped him out? “Really?”
“Sure, I’ve been a virgin six times, I do exercises. Gotta stay tight and play-act like it hurts.” He turned to me, “Where’s your girlfriend? Are you married—divorced?”
Couldn’t bring myself to admit I had issues. Looking into his eyes, I couldn’t admit that I’d never felt wanted by anyone to be close enough for anything. No one close for a million reasons I didn’t know, probably the drugs. “Beach bum—used to surf.” I lied. “What time does your mom expect you?”
“Around ten.”
Walked the boardwalk and looked at the kites—huge, animal shapes and so heavy none could climb high and they were a bright swaying, nodding display above the sand.Just fabric and rope filled with breeze.
“Can I come next Friday?” He gave me puppy-dog eyes, and a sly smile.
“I might miss you if you didn’t.” Squeezed his bicep and we walked to the hotel as the boardwalk filled with tourists. Couldn’t think fast enough to tell him anything else though I wanted to.
Elevator door closed behind him. Gone.
* * *
Walked past the chapel and saw the service was at noon with a dinner to follow—reunion of past members and their families. The parking lot was already full, people bustling around with shiny robes, long, gold scarves over their arms, boxes, bags. Stacks of folding tables leaned against the building. I’d be back. Mom’s van was parked nearby on the street.
Back at the house, there was a cop car parked in the drive, waiting for me.
“’Sup boys? Looking for someone?” They got out, I suspected why they were here. The renters that didn’t come back last night, probably in the tank.
“Looking for some of your customers. French, Germans or something. You seen ‘em this morning?”
Led them up the stairs, opened their empty room.“ One left already. Sent him to Travelers Aid—said he was going to the Atlantic City Airport.”
They went through everything. After a few moments, they told me to lock the door to the room, not let anyone in.
“Got this room booked tomorrow, can you put the pedal to the metal with this?” Sent a text to the owner, Mr. Bozeman, told him there a problem with the renters, police came out.
* * *
The teen girls stayed at the beach.Parents were upstairs humpin’ to techno rock—sentimental sex. I found a clean shirt, trimmed my sideburns, grabbed sunglasses. Headed to church.
Heard him before I got there. All the windows and doors were open, people everywhere on the steps, sidewalks. Organ and piano, drums. Music filled the neighborhood. Had to listen closely, but there was Tommy’s voice behind the chords.
Couldn’t get close enough to see him. Clear voice sneaked up on the notes softly, then the volume increased, filled the air with stronger tones .Congregants clapped in time with the music, then a choir joined. Sounded like the blues, but they were singing about heaven; strange combination. Sad and rich.
Seemed to me that sometimes they were singing different songs, but Tommy’s voice was strong—he kept wending through the others’ sounds. Then, all the voices joined together, incredible roar of words I couldn’t decipher, but I felt down inside me; deep inside. So deep it brought tears. Had no department of religion inside me, but this—these sounds caused my heart to swell and soar with the notes. Stood there in the sun, listening with my mouth open, entirely awed.
“Virgin six times,” I remembered him saying. Hearing him, I knew he wasn’t—he was greater than his louche life in DC. Tommy was a small container holding fantastic sounds. He let me touch him, smell him, hold him just a few hours ago .It seemed almost unreal that we’d done that. This moment was so far away.
* * *
Went back to find the police waiting. Let them in, called Bozeman, “Police are here again, I’ll call you when they decide what they’re going to do.”
“That room’s booked tomorrow.” Bozeman fiddled around on his computer.“I’ll be down tonight. Got some things to discuss with you.”
“Bring more Dover White.” Hung up and hurried back to see what the police were up to. They questioned me, I repeated what happened with the lone guy that morning, and what he said about a party on a yacht. They looked at me, hard looks. I pushed the sleeves of my shirt up, showing my forearms were clean. “Why are you asking me again?”
“Found their bodies in the bay. Looks like they were drugged, beaten and thrown overboard. Where were you last night?”
Brain came to a full-stop. Crime in a tourist town in the height of the season is bad. “Am I under arrest?” Couldn’t admit I was with a boy, didn’t even know his last name for an alibi.
“Consider yourself warned. Don’t leave town till we get this sorted out.” I nodded and went to lock the doors after they tore the room up looking for whatever they wanted.
The other renters asked about the cops, “Nothing to worry about. A few guys playing too hard. They’ll take care of it.” Smiled and nodded, thought about Tommy. Young, vulnerable—he wasn’t safe, then I thought of myself. Working alone, right on the strip, dark alleyways at night, unpredictable renters.
* * *
Scrubbed the graffiti off the back fence, enjoying the crisp smell of turpentine as Bozeman arrived. “Did the cops tape the door?”
“No. Not much left to clean up—they took all the belongings.”
“Everything calm for the night?”
“Think so.”
As we walked the boardwalk, he told me he was planning on remodeling again. “Sea level’s rising. Have you heard what’s happening over on Assateague? Have to put reinforcements behind the skirting.
“Climate’s changing, heating up .If you’ll stay on, we’ll be open year-round. Lower rates for winter get-aways—gonna install fireplaces.”
“Oh, jeez. Don’t.” I thought about the wood and the matches, the house bursting into flames.“Drunks don’t know how to light a fire, we’ll have to have logs, all that crap.”
“Going with the fake kind.”
“Thanks.”
“Yep. Hope you’ll stay. I know how shitty it gets, I read your notes. Don’t think I don’t know what it’s like. That’s why I don’t live in town anymore.” He explained that he was going to take the old garage down, convert it into two units, stacked, “You can have the upstairs apartment. Your old room and the lower garage we’ll make into accessible rooms—handrails and all.”
Six units instead of four, that’d almost double my work, but I’d get a full apartment. Still tied to the property, “Am I gonna get some time off?”
He got close, “Wife’s talking divorce. I’m thinking of buying a boat, living at the marina. I’ll cover it while you take a few days here and there. You’ll get a raise, I gotcha covered.”
“This gonna happen over the winter?”
“November to March, but should be finished sooner.”
Before he left, Bozeman and I went down to the PD, got things straightened out. Nothing more about the guys that drowned. Then they mentioned another problem. Seems one of our neighbors made a report about a young, unescorted visitor on the property.
“Did you get a report of an assault?” Bozeman asked.
They hadn’t.
“Then back off. Levi’s a good worker, always been a loner, doesn’t mess with anyone—won’t let any cats in the house. Best kind of manager to have.”
I called for a quick clean in the empty room and we were ready for the next week.
* * *
Friday Tommy came to find me waiting for him on the porch. Swept and hosed down the porch after I’d touched up the trim—I was looking forward to him staying over again. Tommy grinned as he bounded up the stairs, gave me a quick hug, same old brown paper bag in hand.“ I lifted some kippers and we got crackers and fruit.”
“Great.” held him against me quickly.
We went around back and he was peeling an orange as I poured tea. Wore the same shorts, hoodie as last week I noticed as I opened the curtains, propped the door wide.
“I got new music this week. It’s gonna be good.”
“How’s it going in school?”
“Only missed two days.” The sweet, sharp smell of orange filled the room as he tore the yellow ball in half and offered it to me.
“We have to be careful. Just act like friends around the house, one of the neighbors saw you here last week.”
“I can’t stay over?”His mouth dropped open.
Thought about that. He could sleep in the van like a homeless person, didn’t want him with his mother while she worked. Really didn’t want him on the streets, “If anyone asks, say you’re my nephew.”
“Aw, Uncle Levee!”He slapped a loud kiss on my neck, hugged me. Helped with cleaning the drive I checked the fire extinguishers, looked for leaks and took a few photos of the warped slats on the fence. Got a good shot of him sweeping the sand to the alley. Tommy watered the strips of grass and the hanging baskets, “What are we going to do tonight?”
“Concert at the foot of the pier.Gonna be crowded. You wanna go?”
“Can we go swimming instead?”
“Get those old trunks.” I knew the lifeguard at one of the seaside hotels. “We can hear the music from the pool.” Full moon, music, we walked through the side door into the posh lobby, straight to the pool. Nodded at my friend, tossed our towels and dove in.
Played like kids, diving and finding the colored rings on the bottom of the pool, again and again in the eerie blue light. Couldn’t hear any more music, I remembered he had to sing the next day. “Let’s get home, get you dried off. Gotta keep you in good shape.”
We stopped for a cup of fries then raced down the alleyways back to the house.
Tommy showered while I checked and emptied the trash, then I went in to find him already asleep on the bed. Fully relaxed, mouth open like he was singing. Moonlight lit him softly, sheet lay across his slender limbs. Looked down to see I was hard—ninety-degree angle, bobbing for stroke, balls moving, the air was cool. My breath jumped.
Leaking; a glimmer on the tip of my rod. Stepped back and grabbed my shaft, eyes fixed on the boy, his soft breathing. Squeezed and smeared my precum along my glans. Two-handed grip remembering him saying he was a virgin; tight hole. My hips hunched; knees flexed. Musk drifted to my nose. Looked down at my rod, imagined it running along his hot cleft. Deep breath, stroking hard, squeezing tight imagining a deep cum shooting inside him, going up inside him. Cum filling his narrow channel, sperm finding all the hot, secret places and burrowing in.
Guts churned, abs tensed for a moment. This was wrong, but I wasn’t touching him.
Hotter, heart beating fast, I imagined entering that tight hole, being grabbed by his heat, his muscles. Feeling his heartbeat on my cock. He’d look up at me, I knew he would, eyes begging for more of me. Wanting me. Needing my cock deep. All of me, I’d give him all, balls slapping between his legs and push harder, hold him open, more of me.
Head fell back as I bit my lower lip. Heated cum shot up my dick. Kept pumping, imagining his hand on his own cock as I blasted inside, He’d squeeze his eyes shut and cum with me.
Kept pumping till it hurt. Couldn’t take any more. Nothing left in me.
Cum landed on the sheets, dripped on my feet; room smelled like jizz, sweat. He hadn’t moved. Back to the bath, wiped down and went to bed. Naked next to him in his briefs, wanted to hold him, but didn’t want to move him. So perfect in his dreams. Hard again, but fell asleep with my grip on my dick watching his face.
* * *
Up early, made toast, coffee, checked the house. All quiet, I went back to the boy in my bed.“C’mon, we’re going to get you a CD player.” We took the bus to the big discount store, first to go in and straight to the electronics. He got what he wanted, we picked up several boxes of snacks and fruit and came back. Sat at the small table eating as I read through the instructions and he dug through some old CDs. Before I gave it to him, I got a permanent marker out and put my phone number under the lid, “Levee 667….”
“If you ever need me, call.”
“Mom’s gonna ask where I got this.”
“Tell her you helped a guy clean a rental and found it.” Dug around for my wallet and gave him a ten, “ He paid you to haul trash. Legitimate labor.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Come back Friday, if you can.”
He smiled and came to hug me. Kissed me on the lips. We stared.
He looked down, “I thought about you last week, I think…I think I got a crush on you. Feels kinda crazy, but I want to be here working with you every day. It’s good here, I like it.”
“Don’t tell anyone, but I got a crush on you.” Then I whispered, “I could probably go to jail if anyone found out.”
Gears were spinning in his brain; his mother could charge top dollar to fuck the boy, and it was against the law for me to crush on him, give him affection. pulled him against my chest, “Will you call?”
I felt him nod as he reached around me squeezing me.“Why are the best things always ‘later?’ Always ‘when you grow up?’”
“Hard to get feelings and life to line up; complicated. You’re not too young to shake that old church like storm today. Take care of yourself.” Wanted to say something else, something mushy, but it wouldn’t come out.
He smiled and pulled down my face to kiss me again. My heart beat fast, broke a sweat and grinned.
* * *
Next weekend, I’d already gone to bed after waiting outside for him till late. Heard him, “Uncle Levee, Uncle Levee.” Softly rapping on the back door at one in the morning.
He stripped, came to bed with me immediately smelling like peanut butter and apples. Naked body, smooth skin. Couldn’t sleep holding him. Hard-on leaked all night while he snored softly.
We had a few quiet hours the next morning, though he seemed agitated. He complained about his life in DC. “I want to live here, with you. I can work, help you.” We kissed again, staring into each other’s eyes; my hand went to his groin. Immediately I was ashamed of my callouses, rough touch. He closed his eyes, pressed his face against my chest. Found his long foreskin, tugged, pushed it back and pressed my thumb to his slit. He gasped, thin arm came around my neck.
Fingers rubbed his nuts. Small, tight, warm, completely perfect. A few small ridges and that line that ran between his legs. He opened his knees and scooted closer. Unsure, I stroked along his short rod. Smooth, silky skin; lick, I needed to lick that, taste it, shove my tongue to see what he tasted like, suck.
Vacillated about it—this was wrong. Abruptly pulled my hand away, my fingers wanted to enter him and I’d be the same as every man his mother set him up with. Maybe half of it was fear, the other half guilt, but I couldn’t. Turned away from his tender body smelling us on the sheets.
“I want you. I miss you.”He began.
I stood. “Feel the same way….”Didn’t know what else to say.
That bothered me all week, missed him harder—made my eyes burn when I thought about how I’d started something I didn’t finish; couldn’t finish.
* * *
College students and families crowded into town the next week, wringing a few more days out of summer. It was a madhouse up and down the strip, traffic didn’t stop. Kept cold water iced down on the porch, basket of sun-block and mini-first aid kits beside the door. Renters were in and out all day and night.
Last weekend before Labor Day, my last weekend with Tommy.
Busy all day that last Friday, town was filled with cars, partiers, noise.I stayed on the porch, outside most of the day waiting.Sun was setting—no Tommy. Left a note on my door and walked down to the church. They were charging people to park on their lot; the building was dark.
Sat on the veranda till late, couldn’t eat. Revelers passed, I scanned all the crowds for his deep brown waves, the black hoodie, the brown paper bag. Nothing. My stomach burned, I found part of an apple in the refrigerator, one that Tommy left. As I swallowed each bite, I thought of him in DC.Was he working a john? Was he sleeping out to let his mother work?
Couldn’t rest wondering about him; my empty life rung hollower knowing he wanted to be with me.
Got up at five, the chaos was just starting, jogged through the alleyways to the church. Sign said “Come as you are.” That was new, but not an uncommon way to fill the donation plates. Then I noticed underneath, “Special Music by Juanita and Chayvon Daniels.”
My Tommy.
* * *
House was waking up as I came back to find a couple drinking coffee on the porch. Others left for breakfast. Good luck, the lines were already out the doors of the cafés and restaurants. Town felt frenzied. Grabbed my brochures with maps of the area hot spots; gave those out, went and shaved, trimmed my hair in the back and put some goo on the sides, found a decent shirt. My phone vibrated, I got a text, “Can I call?”
Didn’t recognize the number, it was local. “Y.”
The phone rang showing it was from the church, “Mom couldn’t get a room last night.” Tommy’s words came rapidly. They’d just arrived, “Can I see you today?”
“I’ll be by for the service, if it’s okay.”
“Yes! Gotta go rehearse.” He hung up.
Tore up my place looking for it, but found it and tore a sheet off my clipboard. Carefully, I wrote, “Call anytime. L.” Folded it carefully around a ring. Someone had left a thin gold band with a diamond chip set in it. Not worth much, simple setting and the only gift I had.
* * *
Stayed outside the church till everyone went in, the music started. Didn’t hear Tommy. Went to the narthex, stood aside a tall, slender black man with a handful of programs by the back wall. A minister was in the pulpit saying something about the calendar of events. The man smiled at me, offered a program.
Tommy and his mother came out after a long introduction, and the organ began; I stepped toward the door into the sanctuary. Just Tommy’s soft hum with the music at first, choir shuffled out behind him quietly.
“Why should I feel discouraged.”He stood straight, near the organ, mic in hand.“Why should the shadows come?”The congregation began buzzing; wondered why. His eyes caught mine, he nodded. Sang a few more lines. Organ music went on for a minute, and he lifted his head, and softly sang about a sparrow.
Transfixed, I listened to his clear, soft tones. Then a stillness, quiet over the entire room.“I sing”—he began, “I sing because I’m happy.” Looking straight at me, “I sing because I’m free.” All I could recall after that was a loud celebration of music, feet dancing, voices raised. The song went on repeating the words.“I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free.”
Tears stung my eyes. Tommy’s complete earnestness, his confidence, his voice carried me with him to his happiness, freedom. A nudge on my arm, the man I stood beside me held a box of tissues.I grabbed several and looked back at a glorious, small, wavy-haired performer leading the choir and all gathered in front of him. The music went on for a long time, repeating the words, everyone joining in. Hands raised, people moaned, swayed.
Suddenly the tempo changed, the drums became louder. Faster, and faster. Tommy strode the stage with the mic at his lips, head tilted back .Filled with music, his sound seemed to come from the very soles of his feet, seemed too small to hold the music inside him. His voice brashly thrust ahead of the waves of excitement, the pull of the music, carefully surfing through the sounds to move forward, a breath ahead of everyone.
Spell-bound. Even on the best rock, I’d never experienced this passion, so completely immersed in anything so stirring. The tones calmed, everyone was enthralled watching the short, slender body hold a few last, long notes.
As the applause rang for a long time, then another woman came out to sing.
“Is the kid going to sing again?” I asked the man.
“They’re leaving.” He looked at me, “We have CDs…” he gestured to a card table with stacks of thin plastic cases.
“How much?”
“Love offering. Half goes to mission, half to the musicians. If you’re short of funds,” he reached into his pocket and handed me a card, “take one.”
“Deacon Amity, Faithful Steward Fellowship….”I glanced up at him and grabbed a CD. Outside, I watched from behind their van. Tommy and his mother came out. While she got in, I stepped out from behind the van and handed Tommy his folded paper with the ring. “Love you.”
“I love you.” His lips moved without words. They sped out of the lot and toward a side street to avoid the strip.
* * *
Went home and found an old CD player, earphones and had to clean the sand out, but I could hear Tommy. Played it at night, fell asleep with gospel music in my head. The messages were confusing and the music lifted my spirits when I remembered him singing.
“Grace to Grace.” His voice was like sun warming ocean waves at dawn, glittering away the darkness. Still didn’t understand why they sang about all the sin and all, but the tones, the music, that voice made my skin tingle. Every memory of him was super-charged with the rousing feelings from his music. Ached being without him.
* * *
Shopped at five in the morning before the lines were long when I saw a familiar face, Deacon Amity. We got our groceries, had a coffee before we went back to work. Found he managed the men’s mission for the church.
“Guess we’re both keeping houses for temporary residents.” I explained my property management position.
“Used to be the minister. Got second calling.” He spoke of his past, his education, preparation for leading a congregation and now working with homeless men.
We decided to shop together on Tuesday mornings again. Before he left, I had to ask, “Is that boy Chayvon coming back anytime soon?”
He looked at me, cocked his head.“Any special reason?”
“Yeah, he’s great. The kid’s got talent.” Face heated, “Want to hear them again.” Didn’t want to appear too obvious, so I said “them.”
“I’ll ask the Music Director.” Shook my hand and went to work.
* * *
Never thought a minister would hang around with me, yet Amity and I met every Tuesday early to shop. Broke up my week, and found we both loved the beach, born in the area. Every week I asked about Chayvon. After the fifth time, he gave me a strange look. I blushed.
He pulled me aside on the cereal aisle.“You got it for him. Right?”
I didn’t know what to say, in public, and him a minister, “He’s so talented…”squeaked out as my heart raced.
Still close, “They’ll be here on the last Saturday in November.” He watched my face.
Grinned widely thinking of the boy, “Great.”
Cocked his head to the side and leaned close, “Don’t like admitting this—the reason I don’t preach is because I got caught with a congregant, a kid. Found us behind the baptistry. Donnell was about the same age as Chayvon. Wise beyond his years; he asked me for… well, gifts of the flesh.” He glanced around, “I had all the same feelings for Donnell you have for Chayvon. Church couldn’t let that out to the public so I was given the mission to run. All adult men—they keep me on a short leash.”
Some of that made sense, I’d heard religion has more than their share of sexual activities despite the doctrine. Perusing the list of ingredients on a box of oatmeal, “How did you know?I mean about me?”
“I recalled Chayvon, his mother. Suspected the boy was queer, just because I’ve worked with so many people, wasn’t sure about you. Then I found out Ms. Daniels went to the minister, worked him for the gig. Heard the boy was part of the deal. All of a sudden, you show up in the sanctuary to hear him, you keep asking about him. Now why else would that happen?”
Over coffee I explained how I’d met Chayvon, “Never did anything, but can’t stop thinking about him, takes me twice as long to shower. I know what’s up with him and his mother and I don’t care. Beautiful boy, just beautiful. He deserves a childhood, someone who’s not using him but loves him, truly loves him.”
“Tough situation.”He looked around.“Transient area here…hmm, you know you could probably buy the kid from his mother. He won’t be a kid much longer and she won’t be able to charge what he’s getting now. Her meal ticket is about to expire when his voice changes, he goes into puberty.”
Heart beat fast, buy him? “That’s like slavery.”
“Slavery in one sense, his freedom in another. Consider the entire situation.” He glanced sideways. Passed me his card, on the back was Chayvon’s phone number.
* * *
Walking back to work, I considered what to say to Chayvon. Almost two months had passed, did he remember me? Was he thinking of me the way I thought of him?
I called.
“Levee, where are you?”My heart skipped a beat.
“Beach. Amity gave me your number. You okay?”
“I’m going to class, can’t talk. Got put in a different school I missed so many days at regular school.” There was background noise, “Love you, I’ll call later.”He hung up.
He did call later, told me he had to lose his phone, wouldn’t be calling anymore.
Had to lose his phone?
* * *
Went through work like a robot, mind on the boy. He was coming in November. At least I’d see him one more time. Did something highly unusual, I bought actual shoes. No sneakers, no sandals, but suede loafers, found my only pair of slacks, dusted them off. At the grocery, I met Amity. I told him I was going to come to the service when Chayvon sang, “You got a shirt and tie I can borrow?”
Nodding, he gave me an understanding look.
The only thing I had left of my boy were a few photos on my phone. One he sent me showed he was wearing a string around his neck with a small gold band. Was that the one I gave him?
* * *
Frantic days of summer lingered as the storms came, my time for steam cleaning all the carpets. Second week of November, I was in the middle of cleaning marshmallow goop when Amity called.“Meet me for coffee, fifteen minutes.”
Met him sitting with a short, Hispanic guy with a leather bag, “This is Manny. He’s going to give you a haircut. You can trust Manny.” He winked.
“A Haircut? Here?”
“Got to get you squared-up before the service.”He whispered, “Manny’s going home with you.”
No time for coffee, Manny took my arm and we left for my place. Clippers buzzed, razor cleaned my hairline, around my ears.Felt bald but looked great, sharp, and short.
“What are you wearing?”
I showed him, he smirked, “Where’s the jacket?” He went to the bath, “Don’t you have any cologne?”
“I’m not a concierge and this ain’t the Monte Carlo.”
Manny returned later with several jackets, a white shirt. Half bottle of cologne and different ties, chuckling as he showed me how to tuck the shirt in correctly and pre-tied the tie. Didn’t know there was a system to dressing. He took a few photos of me and left.
Ready for the service, I felt the boy close by.
* * *
Saturday, I finished my rounds, showered, dressed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Day was cool, breezy. Slipped into the narthex, quietly greeted by Amity, he handed me the program. Quickly I checked, there was my Chayvon’s name; no accompaniment listed. I believe his mother was in the front row, not sure.
“What’s he singing? The sparrow song again?”
“Dvorak’s Largo…it’s called ‘Going Home.’”
“Dvorak? Is he singing in English?”
He chuckled, “You’ll love it.Listen to the words.”
He moved several hymnals he’d reserved our seats with and we sat in the very back pew.Again, a long introduction as the congregation waited impatiently for Chayvon.No microphone, no music.He stood in front of the crowd and simply opened his sweet red lips.
Strong and clear, he sang slowly, the simple tune and moving words:“Morning star lights the way, restless dreams all gone.” He looked at me, “Shadows gone, break of day. Real life has begun.”
I began to cry, he’d be leaving again, my heart was going to break into a million sharp, jagged pieces. Again.
Amity nudged me, “Listen,”
I lifted my head as his silvery voice formed the words that hung in the air over our heads, “It’s not far, just close by, through an open door….”
My whole chest ached, as he held the last few notes. Amity leaned over, “Come by the house tonight, around seven.” He winked.
“Why?”
“Did you get any turkey on Thursday?”
“No.”
“Come by for a turkey sandwich.” He smiled.
Glanced back at Chayvon, smiled. Amity gave me a shove so I got up and left feeling empty, confused and angry. I don’t like being pushed around, pushed away.
* * *
Went back to find the construction company left a pile of lumber, drywall and supplies at the end of the drive. The new apartments would probably be finished at the start of the year. At least I’d have decent digs soon, then I thought of the increased duties. An old house is difficult to keep in compliance with all the codes. Could be time to look for a better job.
Called Amity, “Wrap that sandwich, I’ll come by tomorrow night.”
“It’s almost seven.”I heard voices behind him, “Get over here now.”
“Not up to it tonight.”
“Trust me. Come over and hurry.W e don’t have much time.” He hung up before I could beg off.
Didn’t hurry, but I went. Found the men’s shelter was empty but for Amity. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the kitchen.
“I’m not hungry.”
He didn’t stop, but got close to my face, “We have to keep him happy, keep him here with us; can’t lose him to the streets.”
“Doesn’t matter. Even if he was here, I’m no good at relationships.”
“No one is at first. Love is patient; love is kind. That’s all you need to know.” He stopped and looked at me.“What happened to Donnell and me, I don’t want to see it happen again.T he situation turned dark, very dark.” He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath.“I got Chayvon a phone to stop the calls from his clients and without your number on it.”
He stepped near the pantry and opened a narrow door.“Go, the men’ll be back soon.” Index finger pointed at the ceiling. “Go.”
* * *
Dim light from one small lamp, could barely make out the rafters, then a small cot. He was laying on it, looking at his phone. “Chayvon?”
“I’m glad I’m not Tommy anymore,” he turned, sat and rubbed his head, all those beautiful waves were trimmed making his eyes appear huge, eyelashes longer, like he wore makeup. Opened his arms, “Missed you, but not anymore.”
“You were just singing at noon, now here. Where’s your mom? What happened?”
Lifting his phone, he showed me.“I have to stay here for a few days till Amity makes a place for me at his house.”
“Where’s your mom? Where will you be?”
“Mom’s still supervised, that means she can’t leave DC. Ankle bracelet.” He smiled, “I’m going to stay here. Got a new haircut, new clothes, my new life has begun.”
Put my arm around him as he explained that Amity had gone to DC, gave Chayvon money for a pizza, told him to go down the block while talked with his mother. Paid his mother for his gig after he “counseled” her. When the boy came back with the pizza, they left for the beach.
“Amity’s telling everyone he’s keeping me with him so I won’t get into trouble.”He beamed, “Mom said it would be better. I don’t have a dad, and I have to learn to be a man of character from Amity.”
“You got character already, you’re honest and strong. You’ll be close by?”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna start work.”
“Oh, no. No. I’ll find some way….”
“Gonna work with you on weekends. Amity says I need to learn responsibility.”
Couldn’t believe this, too much, too fast. I stared into the darkness trying to reconcile all the sudden changes and realized what “dark” meant to Amity. DC was a death trap for a kid on the streets, or alone.
“I missed you.” He looked into my eyes. “I want you and for now, you don’t know me. Not yet. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”
Kissed him, “Do you need anything?”
“You.”
* * *
Went home, continued working and thinking about the boy. Days were rainy and cold as I fixed the fence, cleaned up after the construction workers. They were in high-gear—the two apartments were almost completed by the middle of December.The place didn’t feel big enough for me any longer. I could handle more than this.I could earn more. Changes happened inside me silently, like changing tides.
Kept meeting with Amity to shop, like everything was the same. Manny always came along to help.
Chayvon went to the mission every day with Amity to study his workbooks. He was introduced as Amity’s grandson. None of the men complained, they were glad to have a young man around to tease and joke with.
* * *
Met Manny at the grocery store before the new year. He was singing holiday songs, loading his cart with goodies for dinner at the mission. Slipped carrots in my cart, a huge pork roast and a bag of potatoes, “I see you’re bringing the entrée. Come at noon, we’ll put it all in the oven.”
We had coffee together. Found Manny was a man drawn to older men. When he was young, lived with a step-uncle who loved him dearly, “I’m hot on Amity’s trail now. Dang that man is sexy and what a head of hair.”
Had to chuckle, “Good luck.” Amity was a surprising man.
Loaded my cart, stepped to the sidewalk. Thought of Chayvon walking next to me through town, I’d be proud to be seen with such a beautiful young man. Probably best not to hold hands, but I imagined his soft palm against mine; imagined kissing him as I shut the door to my room, taking him to bed. Nothing between us but warmth.
* * *
Went over early on the last day of the year, excited but warned to act as if I’d just met my Chayvon. I did, met him on the porch, looked into his eyes, shook his hand, “New in town?”
We played cards and watched sports with the guys while dinner cooked, smelled good. I stood at the sink, chopping salad when Chayvon came beside me, eating the olives from the can, “I start work next Friday if it’s alright with you.”
“Alright? I need help, lots of it.” Felt slippery and goosey inside.
Great dinner and too soon, I had to leave.
Something about the waiting stirred a richer imagination, not like teasing myself, but increasing the anticipation of finally being able to love him. Preparing me for something new, I became anxious.
* * *
First Friday of the year, here came Manny and Chayvon. They had a small bag, no brown paper bag with fruit and crackers, but a smart gym bag. Manny kissed my cheek before he left, “See you at services tomorrow.” Chayvon blushed and finally we were alone. He grabbed his bag and went to the bath, I stopped him.
“Have to tell you something.”He watched my face, waiting.“I don’t want this to be like before for you and the other men. I want to love you, to make love with you.” Took a deep breath.“I’m new to….” Now, my face burned, “I’ve never been with anyone before. Used all my time and money for this.” I pointed to the scars on my arms. “Jerked off when I shot up .Wasted my time, my life, everything on chasing a high.” Embarrassed, I looked at him, “You have to show me…uh, what you want.”
Thought he might laugh, but he stared for a moment, “Okay.”Then he kissed me.“Don’t you watch porn?”
“Don’t like it…reminds me of, well—some of the actors are high. Reminds me of things I have to avoid.”
He went to the bath. Undressed and lit two candles, put them by the bed. Brought a cold soda; didn’t know what else to do.
Came from the bath smelling like spice, cinnamon.“Maybe I’m new at this, too. Never was loved by a man I chose.” He gave me the warmest look, ready. Still felt hesitant, and it didn’t take long till our hard dicks rubbed through slippery juice.
Held his head while he sucked my nipples.Thought I’d gone to heaven, it was so arousing. Shot sparks of blue through my body. I made him stop, I was about to lose my load right there. Made him lay back and I ran my face over his chest, his smooth brown skin and began licking him. Two dark hairs, in small circles had made their debut near his dark sac. Licked them straight, they bounced back. Rubbed my face on his short shaft, played with his foreskin and took him in my mouth. Tasted good, savory, a glaze of salt behind the smell of soap.“Can you—do you—sperm?”
Smiling, “Only a drop or two started coming out, I don’t know if there’s any sperm.”
“Perfect.” Just changing, boy to man and in my bed, I’d get to see it happen, taste and smell him, feel him grow. All the most intimate changes, mine to enjoy.
On his back, he opened himself and held my face—encouraging me to penetrate.
“Don’t pretend anything for me.” I aimed my glans at his hole, damn, I was hard, dripping. Gently his hand took mine and he rubbed my juice on his cleft.
He smiled, whispered. “I want you.”
Wasn’t what I expected at all. Felt him at my tip, warm, slippery against the taut skin of my glans. Felt like his ass kissed my rod, inviting me inside. Little resistance, I jumped in easily on the first move; he tightened his muscle, “Love you.”
Tight heat, I plunged, plowed into him, watching his face. He winced, “Slow down.”
Didn’t pull out, steadied myself to feel all the heat. Nothing like this, my dick never had anything like this before. Glad I slowed down, had to think of roof repairs for a few moments to keep myself from shooting off all at once. He glanced down, scooted around a little and put his feet on my chest.Cool soles on my heated skin, then, leaning into him, his hot tunnel.We stayed like that, me moving my cock slowly. Heels slipped over my shoulders; better, closer.
Closed his eyes, reached around his legs and grabbed his dick with one hand, my balls with the other.Those sweet, red lips made an ‘o’ as his eyes squeezed tightly, “So good, right there.”
His one hand began rubbing his rod quickly. Breath jerked, I began pumping into him hard, unable to stop myself seeing him readying to cum. Every stroke, every rub along his slippery channel filled me with satisfaction, and need. Had to keep going, couldn’t stop.
“Uhn, unh.” His face looked terrified as one drop landed on his cheek, took a deep breath, hand still on shaft, “More.” He began stroking faster, again.
Felt it coming for a few strokes, then, my face burned, my breaths were fast, no way to stop until I filled him completely and pushed all the way until I couldn’t go any further. A few more shoves against his heated membranes and I felt the oozing inside him. My cum, rushing, rushing. Pulsed out my dick, filling him, I moved a few more times, then felt it coming out around my dick, squishing around his hole. Dripped down my balls, warm, sticky.
Filled.
His eyes were closed. As my breath slowed, my body felt an incredible relief as though I were finally and fully honest.“I love you.”
Kissed for a long time, stroking each other, he let me suck him. The taste of him was pure, hinting at masculine, though not much. We fell asleep sated, satisfied. In the dark, my eyes were damp, the feeling of being loved roused desires, and strangely, not my addictions. A full heart created a smooth, glassy sea under a cloudless sky inside me.
* * *
Glad no renters were upstairs, we showered together the next morning and he put his finger inside me, and though I thought I didn’t have much left to give, I exploded. Twice before we had to leave for church. Walked aside him on weak knees. Dang, my cock was sensitive; still leaking a little, briefs rubbed reminding me to smile.
Amity and Manny met us at the door, we sat near the back. Sounded a lot like rehab but more confusing. Amity wanted me to come to church as part of his plan and introduced me around after services as Chayvon’s occupational manager.“On-the-job-training supervisor.”
Chayvon and Manny went to the fellowship hall afterwards for cookies and punch. Chayvon found some other boys and began talking with them, joking and laughing.
Stood by Amity, “Thank you. Everything you’ve done—everything. Wasn’t sure for a while, but I feel new, like a different man. Gonna look for a better job, maybe buy a car, teach him to drive.” Felt stronger saying that.
We watched Chayvon smiling, happy, teasing the other kids, shaking hands meeting their parents.
Amity smiled, put his arm around my shoulders.“You’re a very lucky man, and seems like he feels the same. After all he’s been through and now,” he turned to me, “like his whole life has been a song waiting until now to be sung.”
End
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