The Light in Your Eyes

By Tinnean

Chapter 2

I'd killed a man.

Were the cops looking for me? Did every cop car that went past have a picture of me on the dashboard?

I had to get away, get out of Florida.

I was afraid to turn any tricks in case I was recognized, and the twenty-eight dollars didn't last very long. By the time I reached the truck stop off I-95 in Jacksonville later that week, I was down to a couple of bucks.

I ordered a small bowl of soup, which was all I could afford, and as many packets of crackers as my puppy dog eyes and the sad story I'd spun about a sick grandma could persuade the waitress to give me.

As I ate my soup, I kept my ears open and my mouth shut, and listened while the truckers talked and joked. None of them were going in the right direction; they were either heading south or west across the Florida panhandle.

A trucker walked in, and I paused in my eating and watched him. His walk was limber. He was good looking, younger than Franky, I judged, and a little taller than average height. A baseball cap sat back on his dark hair, and work boots were on his feet.

"Hey there, Luke." The waitress grinned at him and sashayed to the table he'd taken, just across from me. "How you doing, sugar?"

"Doing good, Belle."

"Glad to hear it." She fluttered her lashes at him, but it was as if this was routine for them, nothing serious.

"Where you headed this time, Luke?" one of the truckers asked, and I could have kissed him. It was what I wanted to know.

"Up to DC."

"Another one of your mystery runs?"

He grinned but didn't answer.

"What can I get for you, sugar? Some pea soup like this young man is having, or some pot roast like Ty, or… "

"I've only got time for a cup of joe and a slice of your fabulous Key Lime pie, angel eyes. I need my thermos filled up too." He handed it to her.

"You got it, handsome."

"Belle, if you're thinking Luke is handsome, you better get yourself some glasses, honey," one of the other truckers called out. Everyone laughed, and again it was as if this was routine for them, as if they'd done it so often they could do it by rote.

Luke snorted and started to say something to him. His eyes fell on me, and he saw me looking at him. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I haven't seen you here before."

"No, sir." I gave him a little smile, then dropped my eyes and went back to spooning the thick pea soup into my mouth. When I thought enough time had passed, I peeked at him from under my lashes.

"You looking for a ride, boy?"

"Yes, sir." One thing I'd gotten good at was being able to tell if my advances would be accepted. That and being able to spot a cop at twenty paces.

"Where's your family?"

"At home."

"Where's home?"

"Oh," I waved my hand vaguely, "South."

"South, hmmm? And what're you doing here, all by yourself?"

"I'm on my way North to see my Granny."

"I suppose your granny is doing poorly, and that's why you have to get to her."

"How did you know?" I gave him the big eyes that usually got me an extra ten bucks, especially if my lips were around some john's dick when I gazed up at him. "She lives up in Philly."

I'd never been much good at geography, the extent of my knowledge being that New York City was North and Los Angeles was West, and Las Vegas somewhere in between, but I'd heard one of the truckers talk about coming from Philadelphia on the run he was just finishing.

"How do you expect to get there?"

"I was supposed to take the bus, but I lost my money," I lied easily. I'd gotten good at lying since I'd lived with Franky. "Poppa finally thought I was mature enough to go by myself, and if he finds out I was that careless, he won't let me go again."

"Yeah?" He stared pointedly at the side of my face that still bore a fading bruise, and then at the jacket sleeves which didn't cover my wrists, which had been all I'd been able to scrounge in the used clothing bin. He lowered his voice. "I know a runaway when I see one. Your father do this to you?"

"Oh, no! I swear Poppa never… My father didn't hit me."

"I'm not… " He fell silent when Belle brought him his pie and a big mug of coffee, continuing once she left. "I'm not supposed to pick up hitchhikers, you know. Especially not when I'm hauling… Well, I'm not."

"No, sir." It was the rainy season now, and if I didn't cage a ride from him, I could look forward to getting drenched.

"I'm going to DC."

I nodded. "I could really use the ride… "

"How do I know you wouldn't stick a knife in my ribs?"

I felt myself turn cold. It took me a moment to force an innocent smile to my lips. "You could search me if you like."

From his expression I could see we were imagining the same thing: him running his hands from my armpits down my sides, hips, legs, maybe gently cupping my crotch.

'Well, unless you've got a knife up your ass, I'd say you weren't carrying anything,' he'd say. His hand would still be on me, rubbing lightly.

Color rose in his cheeks. He looked down at the pie, almost as if he was wondering how it had gotten there, then shook his head and began digging into it.

"I'm not gay, boy," he said, his voice very low. He meant it.

"No, sir." But I didn't believe I'd been off in my reading of him.

"Why did your family throw you out?"

"They didn't. I told you, I'm going up to Philadelphia to see my Granny… "

"Boy… "

I bit my lip, then decided to take a chance. "I'm gay."

Luke's mouth tightened, and I was afraid he was going to get up and hit me. The bruise he had seen hadn't been from Franky for a change, but from a john who hated the fact that he used male prostitutes. Luke glanced down at his hands and sighed.

I sighed too and pushed away from my table.

"Where are you going?"

"It's a long walk. I'd better get started."

"Hold on a minute. I didn't say I wouldn't take you."

"But… "

"I'll take you as far as I go."

Would that be far enough? I wasn't going to question my good fortune. "Thank you."

Belle came to us. "Anything else I can get for you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Just my thermos, Belle. It's gonna be a long haul to DC. They've predicted rain the whole way."

"Well, it's only fair someone else gets some of what we've been having." She put my check down on my table and handed another to Luke. "When're you gonna take me away from all this, sugar?"

"Ah, honey, these good old boys'd have my hide if I tried to carry you off. You're the best darned waitress this side of the Georgia border."

Again there was laughter. Belle went to the kitchen to get his thermos.

"My rig is the black and red one out by the diesel pumps," he said softly. "I'll meet you there in five minutes."

I stuffed the last two packets of crackers into my jacket pocket, got to my feet, and walked to the cash register. A bored cashier sat listening to a transistor radio on the counter behind her next to bags of potato chips, pretzels, and Cheese Doodles.

I handed her my last two dollars just as Belle came out of the kitchen with Luke's thermos.

She paused and asked, "How was your soup, sugar?"

"It was very good, thank you."

"I'm real sorry to hear about your grandma, and I hope she gets better soon."

"Thank you."

"Well, you come and see us again on your way back home and let us know how she's doing."

"Yes, ma'am." I'd never be back this way again. "Thank you for being so kind to me." I smiled and gave her the change as a tip.

"Oh, baby… "

Luke came up to pay his own check, and Belle forgot about me. I saw her nostrils twitch. He did smell good. She gave him the thermos.

"Thanks, Belle."

I walked out, sure no one had been paying much attention to me.

I hovered in the shadows by the eighteen-wheeler, turning my collar up against the rain, but before I could start worrying that maybe Luke was calling the cops, he sauntered out of the restaurant holding his thermos and a bag of chips. He opened the cab's passenger door.

"In you go."

It was a big step up, and I made more out of it than it really was. As I'd hoped, his broad palm on my butt gave me a boost.

He went around the front of the cab and climbed in, nodding in approval when he saw I'd already buckled my seatbelt.

"Two rules, boy." He grimaced. "I can't keep calling you 'boy.' You'll sound like Tarzan's kid."

"Frank." I blurted out the first name I could think of. "My name's Frank."

"Good enough, Frank." He turned on the ignition, switched on the windshield wipers, and put the truck in gear. "Now, as I was saying. Two rules. You don't ask me what I'm hauling, and you don't play with the radio. I like country music. If you don't…"

"Country's fine, sir."

"Call me Luke."

"I really appreciate the lift, Luke. Thank you."

A woman singer came on, begging some girl named Jolene not to take her man.

"That Dolly Parton sure does have a nice set of … pipes, doesn't she?"

"Luke, I'll do anything you like. I won't ask what you're hauling, I won't complain about the music you listen to, I'll even give you a blowjob." I gave him a little smile so he could think I was kidding if he wanted. "Just please don't make me talk about Dolly Parton's… pipes."

He burst out laughing. "Fair enough, Frank."

****

Luke was a decent guy. He shared his coffee and the chips, and woke me from a nightmare of blood and knives without asking me what it was about.

I offered him a blowjob as we pulled into an all-night greasy spoon just South of the DC/Virginia border. "You've been really nice to me, Luke, and it's the least I can do to repay you."

"I'm not gay, Frank."

"No, but a dick doesn't much care what it shoves itself into."

"Damn, you're so young."

"I'm older than I look."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I can't wait to get my driver's license so people will believe me." I gave him the big eyes and the smile again.

He chewed on his lip, then nodded and followed me into the men's room.

It was empty. I thought about turning the lock, but decided against it. It would seem even more suspicious if anyone tried to get in, and if anyone did come in and realized there were two guys in a stall, well, I was pretty good at faking dry heaves and making my eyes and nose run, and I'd tell them my big brother was holding my head while I sicked up something that didn't agree with me.

"I'm… uh… I'm really not gay, Frank." Luke seemed a little nervous.

"I believe you." I petted his chest and arm, then pushed him into a stall, unzipped his jeans, and gave a quick glance at the floor before dropping to my knees. It was a good thing it was dry, otherwise I'd have had questionable stains on the knees of my jeans.

I deep throated him, and he didn't have anything to say after that beyond a few stifled moans and gasps.

After he came, I spat into the toilet, dried him off with some toilet paper, and put his dick away.

He blinked at me, blinked again, and shook his head. It took a few minutes before his eyes seemed to regain their focus.

"Wow! That's one amazing way you have of casting bread upon the water."

"Huh?"

"Paying me back."

"My pleasure, Luke." I smiled at him.

He blinked again. "Come on. I'll buy you dinner."

I wasn't too proud to accept a last meal from him. I was flat broke, and I wasn't sure when I'd be able to eat again.

He ordered meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and broccoli for both of us. "And you'll eat all your vegetables, young man."

"Yes, sir." I grinned at him. I'd missed having someone other than myself make sure I ate right. I'd grown tired of fast food, and for the last couple of months had used some of the cash Franky doled out to me to buy groceries and cook up whatever of Ma's recipes I could remember.

Luke talked about other runs he had made, of convoys he'd driven in, and before I realized it, my plate was clean.

"How are you boys doing?" our waitress asked.

"Could we have another basket of rolls, please?" Luke smiled at her. His smile was almost as good on women as mine was on men. "And a couple of slices of apple pie?"

"You got it, honey."

He waited until the waitress brought them and then went to another table before telling me, "Take the rolls, Frank. Put them in your pockets."

My eyes started to burn. "Luke…"

"I wish I could take you with me, but… "

"You've done a lot for me, Luke. I can't thank you enough."

"Eat your pie."

"Yes, sir."

After we finished eating, he settled the bill, and I walked with him back to his rig. I hadn't known him very long, but he would leave an impression on my life forever.

"Thank you again, Luke." I held out my hand, and when he didn't take it, I wondered if he was ashamed of what he'd let me do for him, if he no longer had any use for me. I couldn't stop myself from flinching when he raised his hand, but it was just to stroke my hair.

"Get in."

"But… "

"I can drive you a little further, Frank. Get in."

I climbed into the cab and buckled up. Another woman singer came on the radio, singing about being a coal miner's daughter.

We crossed the Potomac into DC.

"This is as far as I can take you, Frank." He held out his hand.

I took it, then frowned when I felt something pressed into my palm. It was a folded up bill.

"Luke, you don't have to pay me… "

"Frank, just take it, okay? I'm gonna be worrying about you as it is. That nightmare… "

What had I said? Had I revealed what I'd done? In the safety of the rig's cab, I'd been able to forget that I'd killed a man. I closed my fist on the bill.

But Luke didn't look as if he knew he was sitting beside a murderer.

"Thank you," I choked out. I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

"Stay safe, okay, Frank? Or whatever your name really is? Stay safe."

I nodded and hopped out of the big black and red rig. "Goodbye, Luke."

"Take care of yourself, kid. Adios."

I slammed the door on whatever else he might have said and walked away. It wasn't until later that I realized he'd given me not a five or a ten, but a couple of twenties. They wouldn't last me very long, but with them I wouldn't have to seek out a shelter and maybe walk right into the arms of the cops.

****

My meeting with Luke must have signaled a change in my luck.

I walked the streets of DC for hours, not knowing where to go, trying to think what to do, and then I met Pretty Boy, who turned out to be another rentboy. He had been cornered by a gang of street scum who were working themselves up to beating and raping him.

"The cops are coming!" I shouted. "Somebody ratted you out and called the cops!"

Pretty Boy and I took off in the opposite direction, and ran into the other rentboys he lived with, who had come looking for him. Tim, the oldest boy, young man really, didn't look happy, and I wondered if he was going to hit Pretty Boy.

Pretty Boy smiled at him, explained how he'd come to be where he was – a bit of entrapment by a dirty cop, who the big, blond rentboy had recognized – and told him how I'd more or less saved his ass.

"Who're you?" Tim asked.

"I'm… Sweetcheeks. Who're you?"

"I'm Tim. Sweetcheeks, huh? That's a hustler's name."

"You got a problem with that?"

"No. Do you hustle?"

"Not much else for me to do. My old man threw me out when he found out I was gay." I wasn't going to tell him that I'd fallen into Franky's hands like a ripe plum. I certainly wasn't going to tell him that I'd killed Franky.

He looked me over. "If you want, you can stay with us for a while."

"Thanks," I said gruffly. "I appreciate it." It gave me a respite.

"Tim, now that the excitement's over and Pretty Boy's okay, Bud and I're gonna head out." Two boys who looked enough like each other to be twins.

"Okay, Mick," Tim said. "Keep a low profile. If that pig knows Pretty Boy's with us, he may go after you all too."

"Will do, boss man."

"All right. " He turned to me. "Come on. We'll catch a bus and get out of here. This neighborhood sucks."

I went with them to the apartment they all shared.

"I'll give you a quick tour of the place, but then me and Mustang… " He nodded toward the big blond who hovered around him; tall and muscled, he didn't look like someone to screw with. I saw the was he looked at Tim, and I wondered it they were boyfriends. "… have to get to work too."

The front door opened directly into the living room. There was a small television on a wooden box. A game system was hooked up to it, and cartridges were on the floor. Comic books – Superman, Spiderman, The Fantastic Four – and magazines – People, US Weekly, and surprisingly Time and Newsweek – were scattered around on a sofa and the chairs.

Tim frowned. "The maid is runnin' late today, Ah see." The South was suddenly in his voice.

My mind boggled. "You've got a maid?"

"I was kidding, Sweets."

"Oh. I knew that." I offered him a smile.

"Sure you did." He ruffled my hair. I liked the feel of it. I hadn't been touched like that in a while.

I took my jacket off and looked around for someplace to hang it. It was damp from the rain.

"I'll take it." He hung it in a little closet that only had a couple of hangers in it. "Come on."

The kitchen was big enough to eat in and had a small alcove for a stacked washer and dryer. There was a bathroom with a shower/tub combination, and three bedrooms. One had twin beds, one had a double, and one had a king size bed.

"For when we have guests over."

"You need a bed that large?"

Pretty Boy poked me. "Guests." This time I heard the emphasis. I'd never heard that euphemism before.

"Wow." I'd only been in a couple of rundown motels. Mostly I got fucked in the back seat of my john's car, or I sucked him off in an alley.

"Sometimes they like to play with more than one of us."

I thought of the time Franky had brought Jaybird home, then shrugged. I didn't have a boyfriend any more, hadn't really ever had a boyfriend, and while I hadn't had to do threesomes yet… I wondered if I ever might have to.

"Okay, time for us to get going. Not you, Paul." I looked around for 'Paul,' and realized Tim was talking to Pretty Boy. "You've had enough excitement for one day. You and Sweetcheeks stay put. We'll see you later." And he and the big blond left.

"Are you hungry? I can order a pizza if you like."

"I never say 'no' to pizza."

"Cool. What do you want on top?"

"Whatever you're gonna have is okay." It was his house, he was buying, and Ma had taught me to be polite.

"Even if it's anchovies?"

"Uh…"

"Okay, so no anchovies. Pepperoni sound good?"

"Um… could we have it with artichoke hearts too?"

"Ick! You like artichokes?"

"Yeah. My mother… she makes great stuffed artichokes. I haven't had that since… " I looked away.

"I was only kidding, Sweets." He patted my shoulder. "Artichoke hearts and pepperoni it is."

I waited until he got off the phone, then asked, "Is Tim your pimp?"

"What? Hell no! You saw. He goes out to work, just like the rest of us."

"I didn't mean anything, Pretty Boy."

"Paul."

"Huh?"

"When we're home, we go by our real names. I'm Paul."

"Oh."

"Mustang is Cris, Bud and Mick are Tom and Mike. They're brothers, by the way."

"And Tim?"

He grinned. "He's Tim. So, what's your name?"

I looked away from him. "Sweetcheeks."

He sighed and patted my shoulder again. "Okay, Sweets. Why'd you think Tim was our pimp?"

"Well, he just looks like he's running things."

"I guess he is. But he'd not a pimp. If he ever heard you call him that… "

"He'd hit me?"

"NO! He might yell, but he'd never… Geez, Sweets… "

"I… I ran away from my pimp." It was the first time I thought of Franky that way, the first time I said it aloud.

"Did he hit you?"

I couldn't meet his eyes.

"Wanna talk about it? I'm a good listener. Even Tim says so."

"Like I told Tim, my father threw me out. And there was Fr… this guy, waiting for me. I was so stupid."

He put an arm around my shoulder. "No, you ..."

"I was. I didn't get it. I thought he… he fell in love with me at first sight. I thought he was my boyfriend. Even when he brought another boy home and wanted the three of us to… to fuck, I didn't get it. And after Fr… after he hit me… He started crying. He said it was just because we were so broke."

"Let me guess. And then he said that if you loved him, you'd do one little favor for him."

"Yeah. How did you… Oh. See? Stupid."

"Not stupid, Sweets. He just got you when you were vulnerable. Pimps can be bad news. I know, I had one too. Tim got me away from mine. And you were smart enough to get away from yours. What made you run?"

"He sold me to another pimp, a really bad one whose boys didn't live very long." I shuddered, but what I was picturing was all the blood on the floor. "Please, I don't want to talk about it any more."

"Sure." The doorbell rang, and he went to answer it. "Dinner! Come on in the living room. We can pig out on pizza and watch TV."

"Okay."

He put the box on the floor. "Turn on the TV, okay? I'll get us some soda."

I found the channel MTV was on in Washington, then sat on the floor and opened the box. Pretty Boy… Paul … returned with two cans of Coke. He sat beside me, and we set to work demolishing the pizza. We watched Madonna and Culture Club and Bon Jovi, and drooled over Rick Spr