The Light in Your Eyes

By Tinnean

Chapter 3

The nightmare woke me the next morning, the fear, the knife, and the blood. I lay there panting and shuddering, my hair clinging damply to my neck from the nervous sweat.

A soft snuffle to my right startled me, almost causing me to tumble off the bed and onto to the floor. I glanced cautiously in that direction.

It was Paul, the rentboy known as Pretty Boy. He was curled on his side, sound asleep. In his arms, he cuddled a ratty, stuffed dog.

I swallowed and licked my lips. My heart rate was slowing, and I needed to use the bathroom. I eased out of bed and padded down the hall.

The apartment was dim and very quiet. When I was finished, I flushed, washed my hands, and splashed some water on my face.

I couldn't go back to bed, even though the nightmare had quickly faded. I wandered into the kitchen, a matchbox of a room with a breakfast bar that separated it from the living room.

A Mr. Coffee was on the counter. I rummaged around until I found the coffee.

It would be nice to have a real breakfast. There was a box of pancake mix, Aunt Jemima Complete, in a cupboard. I poured some into a bowl, relieved not to find anything crawling in it. All I'd have to do was add water, but I decided to get creative. There was a carton of milk and a crate of eggs in the refrigerator, and a bag of frozen blueberries in the freezer. The milk smelled okay, and I hoped the eggs were fresh too.

The rentboys didn't seem to own a waffle iron, but they did have a frying pan. I'd make silver dollar pancakes. With blueberries.

Paul came in just as I slid the first batch of pancakes onto a plate. "Morning, Paul."

"Morning," he mumbled as he helped himself to a cup of coffee.

"Here you go."

He hoisted himself up onto one of the high stools at the breakfast bar, opened the bottle of syrup I'd placed there, and drizzled it on, drawing a tic-tac-toe design on the pancakes. He took a bite, then closed his eyes, and moaned.

"What's wrong?"

"Nuthin'. These are awesome!"

"Glad you like them." I poured more batter into the frying pan.

Tom and Mike came in. "Breakfast? All right!" They waited impatiently for their plates to be ready.

I looked into the bowl that held the batter. There wasn't much left. I set about making more.

"I smell coffee that I didn't have to make," Cris said as he stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes half-closed.

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Regular." His nose twitched. "Pancakes!"

The brothers hunched over their plates protectively, and I hid a grin.

"Sit down." I poured his coffee while more pancakes cooked. "There's no butter."

"Why do all y'all need butter?" Tim came in, vigorously rubbing his head. The South was in his voice again.

"Pancakes, Tim!" Paul bounced on his stool.

"Who went to McDonalds?"

"Sweetcheeks made 'em!"

I flipped the pancakes, and Tim sniffed the air.

"If they taste as good as they smell… "

"They do, Tim!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Paul. Sweets, on behalf of this crew, I'd like to ask you to consider joining us permanently."

"I… I… "

"Take your time coming to a decision. There's no rush."

"Thanks." I put a plate in front of Tim.

"Hey!" Cris protested. "Those were supposed to be mine! I was here first!"

"He's the boss."

Tim sent him a smug glance, took a bite, and nodded in approval. It was interesting to see that he offered the next bite to Cris.

Tim turned back to me. "So, will you join us?"

"I thought you said I could take my time." Not that I needed to. They'd been nice to me, and I missed that.

"Sure. Take as much time as you need."

I gave Cris his pancakes and went to work cooking mine.

"So. Will you?"

I looked at the four of them, who in turn were looking at me expectantly. "Yeah." I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. "I will."

"Wow!" Paul paused in the act of eating, his fork in front of his mouth. "That sounds like we just got married!"

****

After breakfast, Tim took me aside. "Y'all'll need to be looked over by a doctor."

"I'm not sick."

He shrugged. "That's the way I do things. My boys are healthy." There was pride in his voice.

I didn't want a doctor touching me – I was afraid of what he would find. And if he did find something…

But I was more afraid of being alone. In spite of Tim saying I could stay with them, he could still throw me out if I refused. I'd learned the hard way that people could change in the blink of an eye. "O… okay."

"Don't sound so excited."

I gave him a hesitant smile, and he tugged a lock of my hair.

Tim made a phone call to set up an appointment. I was hoping the doctor would tell him we'd have to wait, that he was all booked up until next week or the week after, but no such luck.

"Doc's a friend of mine. He'll see you before office hours this morning. Get your jacket, Sweets, and let's get going. It'll take us a while to get to his office."

I took my jacket from the little closet, and a roll fell out of the pocket and onto the floor.

He rubbed my shoulder, not asking for an explanation. "You might want to leave those home. Unless you want to take them along for a snack?"

"No. The trucker who drove me from… the trucker who gave me a ride wanted to make sure I had something."

"He sounds like a good guy."

"Yes, he was. I gave him a blowjob." I waited to see how he would react to that. Franky would have given me a slap that would have sent me flying across the room.

"Good." He patted my shoulder "Put 'em in the kitchen and let's go."

We got to the doctor's office sooner than I'd have liked. The waiting room was empty, not even a nurse behind the reception desk, but before I could suggest that since no one was there, we might as well go home, a stocky man with salt and pepper hair came out from one of the rooms. He was wearing a white lab coat, and a stethoscope dangled from around his neck.

"Hello, Tim."

"Hi, Doc. This is Sweetcheeks. He's the new boy. This is Dr. Rosen, Sweets. He'll take good care of you."

"Tim!" I was suddenly panic-stricken.

His hand on my back was comforting, and he gave me a gentle push. "I'll be right out here in the waiting room."

I followed the doctor into an exam room, where he had me strip and put on a paper gown. He shook his head when he saw the bruises.

"I know Tim didn't do this."

"No. I… Please, don't make me talk about it."

"All right. How old are you? The truth, if you please. I'll check your teeth if I think you're lying."

I bit my lip. They could tell a horse's age by its teeth. "I'll be sixteen in January."

"Hmmm." He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I should check your teeth anyway. You look about thirteen." He gave me a thorough physical, frowning when he saw the faint scars on my abdomen and torso. "Who's this 'Fast Franky'?"

I nearly swallowed my tongue. "Excuse me?"

"This says, 'Property of Fast Franky.'"

"I… I didn't know." Was that what Franky had done to me? Would I ever be able to get free of him?

"The letters are shaky. He must have been high."

He had been, and the next day he'd been furious when he'd seen what he had done. He'd smacked me. 'Just make fuckin' sure you keep your shirt on till this heals.'

"You're lucky he didn't cut deeper. If he'd nicked an artery… "

I didn't want to think about how casually Franky could have killed me. About how I had killed him. I shivered. "Will they ever go away?"

"They'll keep fading over time. The only reason I was able to make them out now was because of the bright light in here. Do you want me to take some pictures to document this? You could prosecute… "

I was shaking my head.

"All right, I understand." He didn't look happy about my decision, but he proceeded with the physical, doing a throat swab. His eyebrow rose when I didn't gag. "I'll do an anal swab too. How long have you been on the streets?"

"Six months." I rolled over onto my hands and knees. For a second there was silence. "Doctor?"

He cleared his throat and took the sample. Once that was done, I sat and pulled up the shoulder of the gown, which had dipped down to my elbow. He tied a piece of rubber around my biceps and reached for a syringe to draw blood. I turned my head away, not wanting to look, but I barely felt the needle stick.

"I'll be in touch with you as soon as I get the results. If you've been using condoms… " I looked away, and he sighed. "You kids think you're invulnerable. I'll put a rush on this. Get dressed now, Sweet… What is your name?"

"Sweetcheeks."

He sighed again. "Very well. Get dressed, Sweetcheeks, and we'll get Tim in here."

Tim was reading a People Magazine. He put it down and rose. "Everything okay, Sweets?"

My lip quivered. Before I'd left Florida, I had never given a thought to my health, but now…

Dr. Rosen was at my shoulder. "Tim, would you mind joining us in my office?"

Tim followed us. He sat down beside me and took my hand. Dr. Rosen didn't put the width of his desk between us as the doctor back home had done whenever Ma took us to see him. Dr. Rosen propped a hip on the corner of his desk and began to speak earnestly.

"This young man has been beaten, cut, and he's underweight. Furthermore, he hasn't been practicing safe sex."

Tim's expression grew dark, and I remembered Paul telling me how he had sent away the boy who hadn't made his johns use a condom.

"Sometimes… sometimes they didn't want to use a condom.," I said in a low voice. "I couldn't make them… " I bit my lip. I was coming across as a whiny brat. Franky had always hated that.

"That explains the bruises." Dr. Rosen's mouth was a grim line.

"Tim, if… if you don't want me… I'll… I'll understand."

"Shut up." He pulled me out of the chair and onto his lap. "It's gonna be okay, Sweets. I know what it's like being small and having no say. From now on, if a john won't wear a condom, you just tell him no sale, okay?"

"I'd like to get my hands on those… I've told Sweetcheeks I'll put a rush on the blood tests and the swabs I've taken, but I don't want him working, Tim."

"Not a problem, Doc." He brushed the hair out of my eyes and smiled. "You need a haircut." He ran his hand up and down my back in a rhythmic movement that was comforting.

It was the first time in a long time that I'd been touched in a way that wasn't sexual. I ducked my head against his shoulder, trying not to cry.

"Shhh, shhh, Sweets. Y'all're coming back with me now." He was going to let me stay, at least until we learned the results of the tests.

"I'm serious, Tim." Dr. Rosen's next words revealed just how serious he was. "If I learn that you've let him go out – well, friend or no, I'll have no qualms contacting the police."

The police? I couldn't prevent the shudder that ran through my body.

"Have I ever lied to you?" There was no trace of the South in Tim's voice now.

"I just need to make sure you're aware of how… "

"I'm aware, Doc. Anything I should do for him?"

"At this point, just feed him. If he tests positive for anything, I'll have to report it. Can you give me the names of who you've had sex with, Sweetcheeks?"

Franky was dead. "John. Or Daddy." I looked up at him. "I didn't know their names."

"All right. Where did you work?"

I could feel panic flare down my spine and curl around my gut. If I told him and he contacted people in Tarpon Springs, the cops would come after me and take me away. I folded my lips together and refused to say anything.

"Stupid… "

I dropped my eyes. I couldn't bear being thought of as a stupid kid, even though I was.

"… parents." Dr. Rosen patted my shoulder. "If they'd just accept their kids… " He sounded tired.

"That's usually how most boys wind up on the streets. Get up, Sweets. We're going home now." He paused at the door. "Thanks, Doc. Send me the bill, okay?"

"I'll do that. Take care of yourself. I'll see you in a couple of weeks for your own physical."

Once we were back in the apartment, Tim turned to me. "Y'all won't be going to work until we hear from Dr. Rosen. Meanwhile, I want you to put on a few pounds."

"Yes, sir." I couldn't help laughing at the look he gave me.

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh. Okay, Sweets. These are the rules. No drugs."

"Not even pot?"

"I said drugs. No coke, no crack, no junk. You see Dr. Rosen once a month no matter how good you feel. Anyone gets rough with you, you tell me or Cris."

Cris was sitting in an armchair, reading Newsweek. He glanced up, grinned, and gave a small salute.

"Now it's still early. What do you say we get you some new clothes? These won't last you much longer."

"I don't have any money, Tim." I thought of the two twenties in my pocket. "Well, not much."

"I'll spot you for it."

"But if Dr. Rosen says I … I can't work… "

"We'll worry about that if and when. Which gives me an idea. Once we've got your clothes, we'll do some grocery shopping. Those pancakes you made for breakfast were downright fine, and I'd like to see what else you can come up with."

****

Early the following week, Tim got the phone call from Dr. Rosen, and I waited for the verdict, chewing my nails as nervous tension mounted inside me. I really wasn't expecting good news – god seemed to have turned his back on me around the same time Poppa threw me out.

"Y'all're lucky."

"Tim?"

"Y'all're fucking lucky!"

"I'm… "

"You're clean, not even a head cold!"

I nearly hyperventilated from the relief.

"Yes!" Paul jumped on me and wrapped his arms and legs around me in a massive hug.

Tim caught me before I could fall. He grinned and hugged the two of us.

I put Paul down, pushed the hair out of my eyes, then laughed as I realized the hair was no longer there. Tim's stylist – I would have called him a barber – had clipped and trimmed and shaped, and I almost couldn't recognize myself when he'd finished. I didn't really look older, but somehow I didn't look like a kid either.

"When do you want me to go to work?"

"Y'all feel up to going out tonight?"

"Yes."

He looked me over, then nodded and gave me a handful of condoms, colored, flavored, sizes that would fit any dick.

"I don't expect you to use 'em all tonight, Sweets," he teased, then became serious. "Now, one last word of advice. Always remember… "

"… and never forget… " The others chimed in, singsong, and he sent them a mock glare.

"… johns don't fall in love with hustlers."

Paul laughed. "That's what he tells us all the time."

"Because they don't. Pretty Woman was a load of bullshit." He scowled at Cris. "I should have torn the tape out of that movie when you brought it home. Johns aren't gonna take you away from the life. The last thing any of us needs is to get his hopes up and then his heart broken. So just pay attention to what I'm telling you."

"Yes, Daddy."

Tim growled and cuffed Paul's head, but his growl was really a laugh and his cuff was a more a caress. "Just don't you go falling in love with any of them!"

****

Time passed.

I didn't need to burn those words into my memory. I'd been in love once, and this was where it had gotten me. Oh, hustling brought me decent money, and sometimes the john I was with even made sure I felt good. And it also got me Paul, who I loved like a brother, and the other boys, who I liked well enough. In another lifetime I would have been madly in love with Tim, who was sexy as hell, as well as a good man, but I'd never give my heart to anyone ever again.

As he'd promised, Tim got us off the streets and into posh hotel rooms. Our clients paid well, not only in cash but in stock tips as well. We were on the road to becoming, as the saying went, 'comfortable.'

A pimp tried to muscle in on our high-scale clients, and Tim – short but tough – beat the crap out of him, while Cris made sure no one else got involved. Some of his boys went with another pimp who worked a different part of town, but some of them stayed with us.

After a while, they left, mostly because they couldn't or wouldn't follow Tim's rules.

New boys, thrown out by their families, joined us, and they stayed or they left for pretty much the same reasons, although a few, when they left, chose to open their own branches of the business in New York, Miami, or Los Angeles.

The nightmares of blood and knives, where I'd wake with my heart pounding and sweat pouring off me, gradually faded. I no longer looked like the scrawny kid who'd arrived in DC flat broke. I ate regularly, and without the nervous tension that I'd be beaten if I didn't bring home enough money, I began to fill out. Tim also took me to a gym and saw to it that I learned how to work out, and my muscles became sleek and toned.

I got my GED and then began working on an associate's degree in accounting. I had a head for numbers, and Tim wanted me working the business end of things.

On his 23rd birthday, he announced that he'd been at it long enough. He was going to retire and open a little club in Atlanta.

"I'm goin' with you, dude." Cris looked as if he expected a quarrel.

Instead, Tim smiled at him and touched the spot over Cris' heart with his fingertips. "I'm glad."

"You'll come back and visit us?"

"You won't be able to keep us away. And it works both ways, y'know. I'll expect all y'all to come on down and see us, too."

We took the night off and threw a surprise party for them, including friends and colleagues. Tim actually got misty, and when he tried to make a speech, he choked up.

And then it was time for coffee and cake. I had ordered a sheet cake from a local Italian bakery. Half of the cake had a filling of chocolate pudding and half cannoli cream, and it was covered with whipped cream. Tom and Mike, who were talented when it came to crafts, had gotten some plastic model kits and put together a representation of a small bar, which was positioned on one corner of the cake. In elegant calligraphy was written, 'Good luck, Tim and Cris.' Anything else would have been regarded as being mushy.

I was in the kitchen, slicing the cake and putting each piece on a paper plate when Tim joined me. He had a glass of wine in one hand, and he slid his other arm around my shoulder.

"Thank you for this, Sweets."

"Hey, we all chipped in."

"I know it was your idea."

"It was the least I could do. If you hadn't taken me in that first day, I'd be dead now." I cleared my throat. "I'm gonna miss you, boss."

"Me too." He looked around at the mob crowding our apartment, then nodded toward the Kid and Tangerine, our two newest boys. "The Kid should be okay, but keep an eye on Tangerine. He wants to be in the big leagues, and he's just not ready. One last bit of advice, Sweets." He was turning the running of the business over to me, even though Paul, Tom, and Mike had been with him longer. " Paying rent is like pissing money down the drain. You need to find a reasonable property and buy it."

"One of my regulars is in real estate." We met each week during his lunch hour in a little motel that was just across the Potomac. "He might be willing to help."

"Good." He hugged me against him.

"Hey!" Cris walked into the kitchen. "Should I be jealous?"

"Asshole." Tim let me go, went to him, and hugged him.

I could tell just by looking that the hug was different. "Have some cake."

We partied until the wee hours of the morning. Oddly enough, or maybe not so oddly, no one paired off to slip into any of the bedrooms.

Their things had already been shipped ahead. The next day they followed them.

And it was back to work as usual.

****

It was noon on a Wednesday. "That was great," I sighed in repletion. It was almost the truth.

"I wish you'd let me set you up someplace, Sweetcheeks." My real estate agent angled up and looked down into my eyes. "I have my eye on a sweet little apartment... "

"I'm sorry, John. I'm just not the settling down kind." I wasn't stupid enough to think he'd fallen in love with me, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

I sometimes thought about it though, about having just one man in my bed. I even went so far as to try to picture what he'd look like, but I never could, and I took that as a sign: it wasn't going to happen for me. One day I'd get out of the business, maybe do some accounting to explain my income to the IRS, but when I did, I would be alone.

I'd stay with the boys until then.

"You deserve a better life than this. I can give it to you."

Maybe, but even if I did move in with him, I knew it wouldn't last. John – that really was his name – hadn't come out to his family. They were local, and if he did something like that, it would get back to them.

"I appreciate it, babe, but I can't let you do that."

He sighed. "But I can still see you every Wednesday?"

"Sure. I wouldn't want to spend it with anyone but you."

"And I'll keep an eye out for a property that has promise."

"Thanks, babe."

A couple of weeks later he called to tell me he'd found something. Paul came with me to check it out.

It was deep and wide, three floors and a gabled attic.

"Bay windows, Sweets!" Paul gazed up at the second floor. "I love bay windows! And look! There are little balconies outside each window on the third floor, and turrets at both ends!"

The outside was rundown, and I looked at it dubiously. "I don't know, John. I know you wouldn't steer me wrong, but it looks… old."

"Not old, not really. Well… It's antebellum, but trust me, it's solid. It was build by a well-to-do politician…"

"Are there any other kind?" I exchanged smiles with Paul. Some of our best customers were politicians.

John, who hadn't heard me, continued. "… about twenty or thirty years before the Civil War."

When they went for large families. "It's too big." There were six of us at that point.

"You could rent out one or two of the floors, maybe even the attic. A little renovation, and you'll have additional income from the rentals."

Paul looked interested. "We'd be landlords?"

"But who'll want to rent here?" The neighborhood was as run down as the house. No one was on the street, and even if they had been, I couldn't see them caring enough to protest because a stable of rentboys might be moving in.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I really shouldn't be telling you this." John glanced around as if he expected to find a mic thrust into his face, even though we were alone on the street. "I heard through the grapevine that this area has been slated for gentrification."

Paul was looking dreamy-eyed, and I decided I'd worry about the gentrification thing when it happened.

"How will our clients feel about coming to a neighborhood like this?"

"Sweetcheeks, I'd come here to see you, and you know easily I can be intimidated. Your other clients will too."

"And we can always go to the ones who won't."

Yeah, we could do that.

"Let's go inside and take a look."

tbc