Bloodbound: Deluxe Edition
By Chase Erwin
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Chase Erwin
This book is also available in print at most online retailers.
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This man is so captivating. I do not understand why.
Every night now for the last few weeks, I have seen this young man walk through the park, stop at an ornate fountain, and just sit there. He doesn’t talk, and he doesn’t acknowledge anybody who happens to pass by. He just sits on the bench, staring out into the water. I can almost sense his soul as he stares into that rippling water.
I would love to get to know him… but I shouldn’t even try. I have caused nothing but hurt and pain when I’ve tried in the past. I’m doomed to be alone.
Alone… he looks so sad. I can almost feel the loneliness eking from his poor soul as he sits there. What could possibly be going on that causes him to be so distant?
He reminds me so much of… Sigh… I haven’t even thought about him in so many years. I was doing so well… but he seems to have that same quality, the same sense of honesty and a good spirit that Nicholas did…
He’s crying now. Jesus, what could possibly be hurting that soul so badly for him to spend hours at night alone on a park bench? He is so enchanting. I must get to know him.
It’s okay, dear soul. I’ll watch out for you. I don’t know why, but I feel that I must watch over you, from afar, at least for now. Hopefully sometime soon I can introduce myself to you. And I hope you can accept me…
…but for now, the sun is approaching. I must dash. Be well, dear soul.
Be well.
This couldn’t be all I had to look forward to, could it? Sure, I’d made some cruddy choices, and those choices led me to being a college dropout, unlucky twice in love. I lived with a man who, despite my devotion and care for him, despised the ground I walked on; hit me when he wasn’t hitting on someone else. He made me feel, then eventually believe, I was nothing. He stopped even dropping me off at the supermarket I’d managed to find a job at. It would be a long, lonely walk across Anderson Park to the store each afternoon, and a quicker trek back home, as I always feared someone or something attacking me from the shadows.
Despite my fear of the darkness, I’d often stop at the benches by the serene, gently lit fountain at the center of the park. I’ve always been a hydropathist, believing that water was a cure-all. Soaking in a bath eased muscles, cleansed wounds. Every sound machine I’ve ever bought or seen had some setting for ‘The Ocean at Sunset’ or ‘Babbling Brook.’ So sitting at that fountain, listening to the splashing of hundreds of water droplets cleansed my mind of the dread of heading home to Mike, or the equal horror of going back to the Savers Grocery store the next night to be cussed, screamed at, and complained about. It’s hard enough to try and feign sincerity when you don’t feel like it, but to genuinely try and solve a customer’s complaint, only to be met with swearing and have money or groceries (or worse) thrown at you tends to chip at your will to work.
I digress back to the park. I started resting at the park on the way back from work on a nightly basis. I did this for a lot of reasons: firstly, I was in no rush to go back to my house—Mike’s house, I should say. Mike made it clear I had little place there the night he moved all my things out of the bedroom. I would have loved to just bail out and find somewhere on my own, but on so-minimum-it-should-be-illegal wage, there was no way I could afford it.
Secondly, I would go to the park because it seemed the best place I could find to read. I had loved books from a very early age. My grandmother was a librarian and she really fostered my desire to read. I would read anything I could get my hands on, with the exception of comic books. I can’t explain why, but since being out of college, I found a desire to escape into the colorful worlds of comics. The series I was interested in at the time was an anthology series. Each issue would be a different story about werewolves, vampires, and alien creatures that were born human but developed their powers as they grew up. I needed the escapist fantasies of these stories, because it gave me a strange sense of hope. I felt for these characters that often had to struggle to come to terms with what they were. I was certainly in the same struggle, trying to find my own voice and identity.
The third reason for staying at the park a bit longer is a bit more difficult to explain. That first night, I sat there, staring into the water rippling across the fountain, sparkled only by the amber light of the nearby lamppost. I let all my anxieties ripple away as well. Once I did that, I would start to feel a strange sensation, something I had a long time trying to describe to myself. A tingle, shall we say, down my shoulder blades, to my arms, and maybe sometimes around my back. It felt… how I imagine a hug would be, if you were given one while still asleep or coming out from sleep. It felt like pure, calming energy, enveloping me. I swear it even blocked out the bitter November winds when they blew through.
The feeling would come, stay there for no longer than ten or fifteen seconds, then vanish. If I was lucky, I would feel a feather-light brush of air wisp past my neck. Sometimes I’d get up at that point and be on my way. Other nights, particularly after difficult shifts or a loud and raucous fight with Mike, I’d continue to stay there, hoping, praying, for the sensation to return. One night I found Mike in bed with some random guy. He just smiled at me as he roughly violated this man, taunting me. See what I can do? You can’t do jack shit about it. I walked back to the park, sat down on the concrete rise of the fountain, trying not to cry and failing miserably.
That sensation quickly wrapped around me, and it only made me cry harder. I remember begging the feeling to stay. I don’t want this to go away again. But, as usual, that warmth and tingling faded away, leaving me wondering why I had to be this way, the victim of every circumstance, and the victim of my own choices.
One evening in particular, the drudgery of my job at Savers Grocery was taking a horrible toll on my spirit. The shift started off on the wrong foot when the midday floor supervisor informed me as I walked in that I would be the only checker for the rest of the night.
“What now, did Lacey get another one of her migraines?” My voice was clearly sarcastic.
“She didn’t call in at all,” the supervisor replied. “That’s her last strike, too. Three call-ins in the last month, which results in an automatic firing. You’ll be the only closing cashier we have for at least the next two weeks.”
“Great,” I mumbled, and clocked in for my shift.
The first half of the shift was pretty standard. Price challenge here, discount demanded there, ‘why didn’t I get my senior discount?’ / ‘because you’re 23 years old and obviously stole that discount card,’ et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseum.
Later that night, it got bad, and fast.
“What the hell do you mean, you can’t give me a rain check?!”
I tried hard not to sigh as the woman threw up her hands in unnecessary frustration. I’d had this exchange about a dozen times this week. Why does the store do this? There was a special in this week’s newspaper ad declaring a 75%-off sale on some frozen pizza that didn’t sell too well. They’d neglected, as they always do, to advise customers that once our stock was gone, that it was gone for good, and we couldn’t issue rain checks. Maybe I was just conditioned to the store’s policies, but I was under the assumption that everybody knew this. That’s the whole point of a clearance, which is what I tried to explain to the woman.
“Clearance, my fat black ass,” the woman continued, by this point beyond common sense or reason, “I want my goddamn rain check.”
“Manager, lane eight,” I paged over the intercom, in a flat voice.
“Are you getting uppity with me?!” This lady was making every effort to be as ridiculously stereotypical sounding as possible. Meanwhile, behind her grew a longer line of increasingly frustrated people, just wanting to pay for their things and get out. Even though they could clearly see that she was the one being difficult, most of them would likely still take it out on me.
Greg, the night manager, came by. Greg was what you might consider to be a manager in name only; like me, he was only scheduled to be here this late at night because no one else would take the shift. He was twenty, with looks going on fifteen, and had little to no authority in the store other than possessing the key to lock the doors. He knew me long enough to take my side on most of these issues, and this was no exception. He tried explaining to the woman that it would be futile to issue a rain check for an item that won’t be carried again.
“Oh that’s bullshit, you pull this all the time, puttin’ stuff on clearance just to have it back on your shelves a month later. You think I’m an idiot, son? You and this little counter monkey here” –and at that she pointed at me with her defrosted box of Popsicles, “think that you can just screw us around like this anytime you feel? Fine, you just won’t get my business again,” she shot back, and she thrust her overloaded cart against my register, storming off. Unfortunately, one of the big bottles of soda she’d stuffed in the child seat jammed up against the register-side display of candy bars. The bin holding the chocolate had sharp corners, and punctured the bottle. And guess who was in the line of frothy orange fire? That’s right, me, the counter monkey.
I stood there, dripping, staring. I looked as close to Sissy Spacek in Carrie as anybody could have, minus the pig’s blood. Greg sighed. Not a “look what you did” sigh, but more of a “Dear God, I’m about to lose an employee” sigh. “Hunter… why don’t you go upstairs to the break room and clean up, I’ll be glad to cover you here.”
“Thanks,” I mouthed. I think I was too mortified to actually make the sounds. I had to pass by the four other customers in line: Two other ladies with full carts, a man uncomfortably carrying a young child, who was laughing in my direction, and a young guy about my age, with a small bunch of flowers.
I went upstairs, ran some paper towels under warm water and tried my best to wipe off as cleanly as possible. My shirt was wrecked and my hair matted, but at least I wouldn’t feel the sticky pain of my arm hair ripping as I tried to move. I sat down, rubbed my temples, and just breathed. I felt like I had tunnel vision: I couldn’t look to either side of me, just forward. When I went back downstairs, I went behind Greg at my register, and asked him if he’d mind letting me do “go-backs.”
“Go-backs” is the politically correct term for “Things people toss in random aisles or leave with the cashier when they decide they don’t want to buy them and are too lazy to put back themselves.” It’s every retail employee’s nightmare because you have to have a good understanding of your store’s layout and can quickly put everything back in place in time to collect another batch and do it all over again. Understandably, anyone who likes doing this job is virtually insane, and those that volunteer for the job are few and far between. Naturally, Greg jumped at my offer, and a few minutes later I was far, far away from the front lanes, putting boxes of toaster pastries back on the shelves.
I suddenly felt that feather-light sensation again, and I whirled around to see what caused it. Nobody there. On top of everything else, I was frustrated that I couldn’t figure out why this feeling kept following me around. I focused the rest of my shift on putting everything back as neatly as possible. By the time I finished go-backs, that store looked tidier than the day it opened.
“I sure wish I could pay you a bonus,” Greg complimented me. I grinned back, “You and me both.” The lights turned off in the back of the store automatically as we hit closing time, washing the building in a twilight-sort of state, dim but not dark. I went to the time clock and punched out. Cracking my neck, I started off on my usual hike from the store towards Anderson Park.
I hadn’t made it past the parking lot, when I heard a voice call to me: “Pardon me a moment…”
My grandmother always taught me to have my keys in my hand, and my hand in my pocket when walking at night. In lieu of a weapon, the sharp end of a key can do some serious damage. So I had my hand prepped in my pocket as I turned to face the voice.
It was the guy from the store… the one with the flowers; four roses. He struck me as very handsome, almost distinguished. He smiled gently at me. “I hope I didn’t startle you. I just wanted to see if you were alright after that incident with the lady and the soda.”
“Oh… Yes, yes, I’m fine,” I sighed. “It’s just liquid. It washes off.”
“That’s why I stayed behind; I grabbed a few sanitary wipes from my glove box, in case you needed them.” He produced a few small packets and offered them to me. I hesitantly took them. I was out of my element; I usually ignore all calls out to me on the street or any advances from people in public. The last time I acknowledged one, I had to listen to a man trying to sell me his Christian ska CD. “Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it. I’m just sorry that happened to you. And that lady,” he groaned sympathetically. “I don’t understand some people. You were only upholding policy, why does she think she’s the only one entitled to bend the rules? I’m just sorry she had to go after you like that.”
“I’m used to it,” I shrugged. My eyes glazed over gently and I pondered over my words… I’m used to it. I’ve accepted it. I have settled. This is as good as I guess it’ll get. I looked into the stranger’s eyes. Blue… a gentle blue. He looked absolutely gorgeous. His soft, understanding smile almost fixed me to the spot. I don’t know if it was hormones or what, but I instantly knew he was more of a man than Mike ever was or ever would be. But I shook those thoughts from my head almost immediately, because there was one obvious clue that he was spoken for.
“Buying flowers this late at night,” I noted, gesturing to the four roses. “You’re either very much in love or in a lot of trouble.”
The man blushed, chuckled at my small joke, and said, “The first one. It’s more of a one-sided thing at this point. I don’t think they even know I exist… Hey.” He changed the subject and offered up his hand. “My name’s Tyler. I know it’s weird, but, are you going far? I wouldn’t mind someone to talk to for a few minutes.”
I shook his hand, probably faster and harder than I meant to. Anything for a chance to avoid home. “Hunter. I’m… I’m Hunter. And yes, of course, I’m just cutting through the park on my way home. Come along.”
We walked through the park, down the hike-and-bike trail leading up to my usual sanctuary in front of the fountain. We sat at the bench and talked, mostly about my life, and where it was heading, or more to the point, where it was stuck.
“Why don’t you just get out of there?” Tyler asked with an expression of genuine concern on his face. “It would take me forever to save up money from my paychecks just for a deposit on an apartment,” I replied. “I don’t know anybody else in this city and…” I sighed. “I just dug myself into this hole and there’s not much of a way to climb out. But it’s okay. I’ve lived through a lot of bullshit in my life, and I will do so again.”
“Well, at least you’ve got a positive outlook on it,” Tyler smiled. “That’s a very admirable trait.” I could swear feeling that wonderful sensation, that warm, buzzing tingle after he said the words. Maybe that is indeed what care feels like.
I quickly pushed the conversation back to his flowers. “I just have to ask: why just four roses? I thought it was more traditional to buy a dozen?”
Tyler smiled softly and looked down at his four long-stems. “I like to think of myself more as a… creative romantic. I thought I would use these to drop hints, let the person know that I was there, that I’m around… if they want me. I read this idea about four roses from a book. Think that will work? I’ve never really tried courting someone before.”
I grinned. “Courting? What are you, a character in a Charlotte Brontë novel?” He blushed. I felt a small tinge of guilt creep up on me for saying that; he was obviously making an earnest display. “I think it’s a fine effort. I can tell you if anyone had ever made that big an effort on me, they’d be in with a shot, at least.”
“Good.” Tyler looked down at his watch and frowned. “Yikes, it’s nearly five o’clock. It’s almost dawn, I’m so sorry! I should go.”
“Whoa, really?” I looked up and saw the dark purple and magenta in the horizon. “I can’t believe we talked that long. I don’t think I’ve spoken that much to anyone since I moved here.”
“I hate to rush but I’ve got to jet, and I’m sure you need your sleep.” Tyler grabbed his flowers and started jogging away from me.
“Hope to see you again sometime!”
I watched him sprint off back in the direction of the store. I stretched for a moment, and then started for home. It was nice seeing the park in the starting minutes of the day, birds flying past to rest in nearby trees and canopies. I thought about what I told Tyler. I’ve survived a lot of bullshit, I can do it again. In time, perhaps. Right now? Doubtful..
Mike’s house was the lone structure at the end of a long cul-de-sac, with vacant lots on either side. It felt, literally, like the end of the world. I stopped at the mailbox to get yesterday’s mail. Bills, bills, ads, and junk. I reached in again, in case I missed something.
I pulled out a rosebud. Brilliant red, almost crimson along the edges. One of the exact same ones I saw Tyler holding all night long.
My head started swimming. It couldn’t have possibly been… He wasn’t even running in this direction! I looked around, to the left and the right. Not a trace of him. The only thing moving was a sudden rustling of the leaves in the trees. I stood there a few moments, holding the rose gently; content to believe that just maybe, I was being courted.
I had to get used to the mindset that Mike and I were no longer in a relationship, because every time I thought about going out on a date with Tyler, I was hit with guilt. I never liked going behind anyone’s back for any reason, no matter how badly the other guy treated me. But, I reasoned, if Mike saw clear to kick me out of our bedroom and start screwing other people while I was at work, it didn’t exactly cement our relationship. Therefore I should be free to explore my options.
I kept the rosebud in the butter compartment of the refrigerator. We never used it for anything, so there would be little chance that Mike would discover it. Plus, I wanted to keep the bud as fresh as possible. I would take it out randomly, put it to my nose and gently breathe in that sweet, earthy smell time in and time out.
Rose number two arrived on my doorstep sometime before dawn two days later, along with a note: Go about your normal routine. See you at eight o’clock. –T. I furrowed my brow the first time I read it. Where? And what was he talking about a routine? Retail workers don’t have the luxury of a routine, being scheduled for different shifts with different times off.
That day happened to be a midday shift for me, so I would be free from five-thirty onwards. Normally that meant sitting at my computer or watching something on TV. I would have much rather him find me doing something more interesting, something outdoorsy or, god forbid, active. Years of various stages of depression and pain had taken their toll on me, both mentally and physically, and I was surely a candidate for some major weight loss.
But, the card did say to go about my routine, and this was as close to a routine as I could fathom. About seven p.m., I was struck with a brief panic spell, when I realized this would mean Mike would almost certainly come into contact with Tyler at some point, and I was bracing myself for some fit of rage or possessiveness. But I needn’t have worried. When I finally did get on my computer to check my e-mail, I found a very brief message from him: Going out, don’t expect me back ‘til morning. All right then. Enjoy whoever it is you’re shaking up with tonight, you dick.
I flipped aimlessly through the channels on basic cable until finally 8:00 rolled around. Almost on the dot, a knock at the door made me jump. I raced to open it. There was Tyler, and the first thing I noticed was those eyes… those gorgeous, mystical eyes. They made me smile. “Hello there,” was all I could manage.
“Good evening,” Tyler replied in his most chivalrous-sounding voice. “I’m… not used to the whole dating process, so I hope you don’t mind if we do a very clichéd thing and go to dinner and a movie.”
“I don’t mind that a bit,” I replied. “I’ll just need to do a quick change of clothes. Come on in, it shouldn’t take me but a minute.” Tyler hesitated briefly, and then strode in, stopping just past the couch. I could tell almost immediately he seemed uncomfortable, and not from first-date jitters. “You okay?”
“Um, yeah…” His voice trailed off. “Just make it quick. I can’t wait to start our date.”
I went to Mike’s bedroom door, to find he locked it. I sighed in frustration. Fumbling in my pocket, I pulled out my wallet, scrambled to find an old debit card, and used it to wedge the lock back and gain access. Striding to the closet, I found all my clothes pushed to one back corner of the walk-in.
I changed into a dark blue dress shirt I normally saved for job interviews, and a pair of khaki pants. I almost put on cologne but changed my mind, figuring I’d rather smell like nothing than an overly desperate gay man hoping to drive his date mad via the olfactory senses. I certainly didn’t want to smell like Mike. I rejoined Tyler at the door, and we departed.
I never considered walking around the city at night, I guess because I never had the drive to do so. But the very presence of Tyler made me want to walk, to be beside him. We walked about a half a mile down to a rustic looking steakhouse. We were quickly seated by an older-looking waitress who asked for our drink orders. I ordered a cola with no ice, Tyler just ordered water.
“I should warn you now,” Tyler began, gazing softly at me, “I won’t be eating with you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I kind of caught myself ravenous about six o’clock and couldn’t help myself,” he laughed. “But I’m not going to let that ruin a dinner date and this is on me, order whatever you please.”
“Okay, but just… try not to stare at me while I’m eating. It gives me bad memories of my mom trying to teach me table manners. ‘Quit smacking, dammit.’” The waitress returned with our drinks and took my order of a strip steak with baked potato and broccoli cheese soup. During the meal, we talked more about my upbringing: brought up by my grandmother while Mom was wrapping up her naval career, living in rural Nebraska, realizing I was gay at the tender age of thirteen.
“That’s when things got rough between my family and me,” I said between bites of potato. “I told them, thinking they’d accept it outright. Instead they yelled, they screamed, they tried to convince me I was confused. It shocked me so much that I rather went numb for about a year or two. I stopped telling them about stuff going on at school, they stopped asking. The denial kept going on, and everything that makes a family a family seemed to disappear with time. These weren’t people who loved me; they were just people I lived with. Senior year of high school came around and I got accepted to college in Texas, and I jumped at the chance. That brought me to Houston.
“I met Mike my freshman year at school. He lived in Dallas and was visiting a friend. We hit it off, or maybe it was just my loneliness and his lust combining. Either way, I fell for him fast and I dropped out of school to move up with him. It soured really fast. I think he’s broken up with me about five or six times, and he’s really ramped it up now by kicking me out of the bedroom and bringing guys over.”
I looked up at Tyler to see his jaw set, looking intensely focused. “I could feel it all in there,” he muttered. “All the pain and disappointment fills that house. That’s why I didn’t want to stay there for very long.”
Those words might have caught anyone else off guard, but for me it seemed natural. I considered myself a very empathetic person, and able to easily pick up on other people’s feelings and situations by their body language and tone. Vibes, I guess you could say.
I got lost in those eyes again, which was a bad thing to do while trying to cut off a piece of bread. I slipped and ended up cutting my finger. I winced. “Shit,” I muttered under my breath.
“Let me see,” Tyler examined it. “Oh, it’s just a small nick, nothing major.” He smiled softly, and kissed my fingertip, just on the cut. As he did, he closed his eyes, as if in a deep trance. I looked at him. He opened his eyes and looked at me. We both blushed. Tyler asked the waitress for a bandage. I got patched up, Tyler paid the bill, and we continued on our way.
The date continued on after dinner at the multiplex across the street. I paid, which was a bit of a strain on my wallet. The last time I’d gone to the movies, tickets were $6.50, now they were pushing ten. Still, I bought us both sodas, despite his protests. “Oh, stop it,” I said, “you bought me dinner, and left a ten dollar tip for the waitress—you showoff.” I grinned and elbowed him playfully, my first real attempt at touching him or flirting with him at any point that night. “The least I can do is spring to get you a drink.”
He laughed, bowed to me, and took the cup from me, filling it up with cola. We went around the corner into our theatre. To be honest, I don’t even remember what was playing. All I could think about was doing this with him every week, moving in with him, living with him, devoting myself to him. I stopped myself when I realized those were the very thoughts that got me embroiled with Mike. I was infatuated with Tyler, and that was all for now.
About halfway through the movie, I was mentally debating myself about whether or not to hold his hand. Was I moving too fast? Would I be too sweaty? What if I…?
I gasped audibly when I felt his hand on mine. All my thoughts were instantly replaced with that buzzing, tingling, comforting feeling. Only a thousand times more intense. As if… as if Tyler were transferring those feelings to me somehow.
As if he’d been doing this for as long as I started sensing it. He wrapped his hand around mine. It felt so cool, but not cold. The tingling was getting stronger. It was washing over every inch of skin on my body. He rubbed his thumb ever so slowly across my palm. I shivered. I turned to him, to find he’d been looking at me all this time. He leaned into me, and we kissed. It may have been for a few seconds, or a few minutes. But every ounce of my being, every thought in my head, was tied to him.
The movie ended, and the house lights went up. I squinted, adjusting to the brightness. We smiled at each other and got up, hand in hand. As we scooted down the aisle to leave, I picked up our cups out of their holders. Mine, as usual, was bone dry. Tyler’s was still filled to the brim.
As we walked out of the theater, a buzz emanated from Tyler’s coat pocket. He frowned as he opened up his cell phone and checked the screen. “Hunter, I hate to end this night so soon, but that was work. I need to go in.”
“This late at night?” I frowned as well. For a split second, I wondered if that was a lie. But after that kiss, there was no way.
“Yeah, afraid so. I’m on call, for lack of a better term.”
“On call? Are you… a doctor, or something like that?
“Hardly,” Tyler chuckled. He put his phone in his pocket as we started walking back towards my place. “It’s a bit complicated, but the best way to describe it is, I do odd jobs. Unfortunately this means I also have to keep odd hours, even in the dead of night. It’s not perfect, but it pays bills and allows me to give waitresses ten-dollar tips.” He elbowed me, just like I had done him earlier.
He walked me back to my doorstep, where he kissed me again. Again, I felt that wonderful sensation. “I hope this means there’ll be another date?” I queried.
“Of course,” Tyler replied. He pondered for a moment, “But I’m not quite sure when. Let me check my schedule for the next few nights, and see what I can arrange.”
I nodded. “Do you want my cell phone number?
Again, Tyler gave another thoughtful pause. “No. After all, I still have two more roses to present to you. I much prefer letting you know that way. Bein’ all creative and stuff, ya know?” He stepped close to me again, brushing his cool fingertips against my neck. I shivered again, and watched him watching me, his eyes moving slowly to my neckline. He took a deep breath and sighed. “I should go. Until next time, my dear Hunter...” He pecked my cheek, and then jogged off. Always jogging, that damn fit boy.
The third rose appeared, oddly enough, on my locker door at work. I had just finished a rather pleasant shift that ended at 7pm, and I sat down at the table to gently open the envelope the rosebud was taped to. The card inside simply said, “Aisle Fourteen.”
I blinked, and tried to process this. Aisle fourteen is in the health department. The man’s giving me romantic notes telling me to rendezvous in the pharmacy. Let’s see… Twelve is digestive aids and antacids. Aisle thirteen is aspirin and that one size of Unisom I always buy the store out of, and fourteen is…
Holy shit.
“Family planning,” I said to the wall, blushing hotter than I’d ever had before. Wow, how bold of him. But geez, I don’t know. Just three nights ago I was worried about hand-holding, now he’s suggesting…
“Hey, Tyler,” I whispered as I turned the corner a few minutes later into aisle fourteen. “Listen, um, its not that I don’t want to, but I may need more than a couple dates before I…”
He put a finger up to my lips. I looked up at him. His eyes were noticeably darker tonight, nearly black. It made him look all the more stunning. I stopped immediately. He removed his finger and pointed it to the shelf he was standing near. “Pick one,” he said in a velvety tone.
I looked at what he gestured to. Massage oils. Aromatherapy massage oils. I was intrigued. I’d never actually noticed this range in the aisle before. I scanned the labels. “Spearmint eucalyptus stress relief sounds good.”
Tyler smiled softly as he picked up the bottle. “Nice choice. Now…” He looked at me again with those dark, stormy eyes. “Go outside and wait for me. I have a few more things to pick up for our night together.”
I was used to being ordered around by Mike, in a harsh, almost violent tone. I vowed I would never let another man talk to me like that. Tyler was ordering me, but by God, it sounded more like a loving direction than a unilateral edict. Plus he was almost oozing sensuality tonight. I nodded and did as told.
A few minutes later he took my arm gently and we almost glided into the parking lot, where his black Lexus was still running. “Hop in,” he smiled at me.
He held my hand the whole time we were in the car. I watched the lights of the city fade and smiled. I had no idea where this night was headed, but I felt safe, and more importantly, wanted. “I don’t live that far out of town,” Tyler said, and before long we were at a stately manor house complete with electronic gate. I gaped. “Good lord!”
Tyler took no notice of my outburst and rolled his window down to punch in the gate code. He gingerly drove over the gate track and then steered the car up to his front door. He got out, turned to my side and opened my door, helping me out.
My sense of awe was only heightened when he led me inside. His foyer, his living room and kitchen were all decorated with sleek, modern designs: recessed lights, granite surfaces, leather furniture. “Gosh, Tyler, my compliments to your maid!”
“Ha!” he laughed loudly. “These were the only rooms I had time to clean up myself. The rest of the place is in such disrepair, I just haven’t had time to renovate. But… tonight is not about open house.”
He turned me around to face him, where he kissed me, deeper than he had at the movies. I felt his tongue caressing mine. I felt like I was melting. “Tonight is about you, and me showing you, for once in your life, what it’s like to be loved.”
He smiled at me, brushing my hair and gazing at me. “I know this has been a lot to take in, in the span of two weeks. But I know what I feel,” he said. “More importantly, I know what you’ve felt. You’ve been exposed to so much hatred and indifference, and you don’t deserve that, Hunter. You deserve the best. I think I can be that to you. I want you to be mine. I love you.”
I gulped. My head was swimming. He’s already saying that? Should I respond in kind? Do I love him? “I…”
“Shh.” He gently nudged me to the living room, where he sat down with his grocery bag on the rug in front of the fireplace, which was gently crackling with light and heat. “Come. I want you to sit here, and let me help you relax.” He took the bottle of massage oil and shook it.
I could smell the soothing vapor of spearmint as soon as he broke the seal. I closed my eyes and breathed in. I opened them again when I felt his cool hand press against my chest. Blushing, I helped him lift off my shirt. I’d always been self conscious about my body, no more so than when taking off my shirt, and my natural instinct was to lift up my arms and fold them over my less than stellar pecs.
Tyler moved my arms back down and started rubbing the oil on my shoulders, moving down my back and eventually over my chest. My eyes closed again, and I let myself sink into an indescribable state of bliss. Those all too familiar feelings blended in with the heat and feel of the oil being manipulated over my skin. Tyler eased me into lying on my chest and he climbed on top of me, working my back and shoulders, even panting softly as he started to knead his knuckles against me.
I lost all sense of time when he eventually turned me over. He’d taken off his shirt at some point, and he made out with me for what seemed like an eternity. He reached over to the bag, blushing, and pulled out a box of condoms. “If you aren’t ready yet, I totally understand, and I’m not pressuring you,” he stammered. “But I can’t help but feel that I want to…”
“Yes,” was all I could say… And within moments I was in such a haze I couldn’t ever possibly write down the sequence of events.
All I remember beyond the sense of extreme joy and pleasure was my eyes closing shut, and opening them when I yawned. I was so bleary-eyed; I had to force myself to yawn again in order for the tears to clean my eyes.
“I’m so sorry I wore you out,” Tyler said, beside me. His arm was around me as I turned to face him.
“Mmm. Tyler… never apologize to me for something like that.” I put my own arm around him, sighing happily. “That was… beyond anything I’d ever dreamt of.”
Tyler looked almost afraid to speak, almost ashamed. “Well, you did a lot of dreaming. You slept through the night and into the next day. It’s Friday night now.”
“You’re shitting me!” I cried. I scrambled to find my cell phone and looked at the screen. Holy fuck. Friday, 7:23 pm. “Oh, no! I missed my shift.”
“I am so sorry,” Tyler said, almost on the verge of tears. I looked at him, and saw the shame in his eyes. He quickly realized he was about to cry, and buries his face in his hands. I almost started to cry as well. “Tyler, hun, it’s not your fault. It just… happened. But I’m glad it did. I’d have missed a whole week of work if I’d known that would happen.”
Tyler and I kissed for about an hour, and then he gathered up my stuff and drove me home. He promised to get in touch for another date by midweek.
As I unlocked my door and settled down on the couch for more sleep, I made myself a promise, too: I was going to break things off with Mike once and for all tomorrow night. I had really found someone worthy to love.
Sun broke late in the morning after one of those weird Texas storms that kept me awake. Once I stopped hearing rain patter on the porch, I went outside. The yellow sun shot like a bolt onto the door, illuminating a rosebud haphazardly taped to the door alongside another envelope.
555-804-2242. Call me thirty minutes before you’re set to leave him forever. Remember, I’m here for you always. T.
I took a deep breath of morning air, and smiled. Yes, this will indeed be the night I break free from Mike and his sadistic ways. I programmed Tyler’s number into my phone and sent a quick message saying hi and to add this number. Then I spent most of the afternoon making sure all my stuff was packed in the boxes Mike had moved into the living room. I filled my old backpack from school with a few clothes. Around four o’clock, my phone rang. It was Greg, at work. “Oh, hey, Greg. Look, about last night, I’m real sorry—“
“Never mind about that now, Hunter,” Greg sighed. I could tell from his tone that something was up. “Can you get over here within the next hour? There’s going to be a staff meeting, and we need everyone.”
“Ah, geez, Greg, this is very short notice. I’m really in the middle of something big here.”
“Hunter,” Greg began. “It’s gonna kill me if I have to tell you this over the phone, so I’d really rather tell everyone at once.”
My heart caught in my throat. That definitely didn’t sound promising. “Okay, fine, I’m out the door now.” I took Tyler’s rose, put it in the refrigerator, taking out the previous one and taking it with me to toss on the park grounds on the way. I tucked his card in my pocket, and started off to Savers.
The upstairs office was standing room only; overnight stockers, cashiers, bag boys, everyone was packed like sardines, barely giving Greg room to breathe as he walked in front of the group alongside a man in a suit with a Savers logo pin made of bronze on his lapel.
“Ladies, gentlemen, please,” Greg began. “This is going to be fairly brief. The man standing next to me is Ronald Sawyer, manager of the Southern region. He has an important announcement for us, so let’s please give him our full attention. Mr. Sawyer?”
Mr. Sawyer buttoned his coat as he began to speak. “Ladies and gents, a news item is going to come out in the national press in the morning. This item is going to state that the parent company of Savers Grocery has been severely misrepresenting its annual earnings for the past five quarters. In fact, there have been no earnings for the last seven quarters. In short, I’m sorry to report that, as of 11:59pm tonight, Savers Grocery will cease operations nationwide.”
There was an immediate groan from the crowd, and hands flew skyward from nearly every seat in the house. I kept watching Sawyer coolly lay out what I knew to be a death sentence for my job. “Any pay accumulated during this pay period will still be honored. However, please be advised that there is no money left in the corporate account to pay out vacations, sick pay, or health benefits from this moment onward. Your final paychecks will also, unfortunately, encounter a one to two week delay while the accounting department closes out everyone’s benefits accounts and recalculates the final pay amounts.”
The staff—former staff, I should say, milled around the office for a moment, soaking in what just happened. Sawyer and Greg went downstairs, presumably to allow us time to react. A moment later, as I expected, everyone began raiding the office supply cabinet. Vultures. On the desk to my right, I noticed a blue stapler with the Savers logo emblazoned on its head. I nonchalantly picked it up and slipped it in my pocket. Hell, if anything else, I could auction it off online to scrape up some more money. Maybe I could earn the two days’ worth of vacation pay I was now denied from getting.
As I walked out onto the shop floor, I was filled with a sense of… not giving a damn. It wasn’t that I snapped, but that I let all the inhibitions go. I was a mere hour away from having Mike out of my life, about to start a brand new chapter with a man that truly loved and cared about me, and to top it all off, I never had to deal with this lousy store, or its snotty, holier-than-thou clientele. I felt… like having a little fun. I started to weave through the aisles, nonchalantly putting my arm into the shelves and knocking off whatever was in my way.
People turned and stared, open-mouthed, and I didn’t care. Down went the cans. Bombs away went the juice bottles. I turned a corner, drop-kicked the cans of oatmeal. Then I approached the soda aisle, and who should I chance to meet but Ms. Sassy, the woman who went all apeshit over the clearance food last week. I glared at her, just as she turned to see me.
“What the hell are you lookin’ at?!” She screeched the words, and like a beacon, a few of the other cashiers, presumably following Hansel’s trail of broken groceries, saw me.
“I,” I said, taking a bottle of orange soda of the shelf, “am looking at a woman so inconsiderate, so devoid of compassion for other people, and so downright selfish, that she expects everything to be handed to her on a silver platter, despite the fact that she’s done absolutely nothing worthwhile in her life to earn it.” I spoke in such a low, angry tone that I started to scare myself.
“S-stay back,” she warned, pulling her cart up to her chest in some sort of an attempt to shield herself. “Don’t you touch me.”
“I don’t intend to touch you!” I screamed, and hurled the bottle to the other side of the aisle. It broke open against the shelves, bubbling and spewing on the floor. I picked up another bottle, opened it, and took a long drink. As I did, I felt my cell phone buzz with a text alert, but I ignored it. I was experiencing release like I had never felt before.
“You think that just because we stand behind a cash register all day, that we’re beneath you, that we’re just servants to you. Well, I am tired of serving. I am tired of being a doormat for people like you. And I am fucking tired of watching you come through the express line with eighty items, most of which have clearance stickers you peeled off other things!” I slammed the bottle down on the floor. By now the aisle was a rippling orange tide, and to my surprise, no one was trying to stop me. The woman didn’t even try to run away; I suppose she was as much in shock as everyone else had to be. I had a captive audience, so I decided to make the most of it. I took another bottle off the shelf and took the cap off. I poured a bit out, then stuck my thumb in the spout and started to vigorously shake it.
“Luckily for you, ma’am, you are not going to have any of us to worry about anymore. Starting tomorrow, you will have to find some other sackers and… counter monkeys to terrorize. So from all of us, to you, I hope you have one hell of a super Savers day.” I yanked my thumb out of the spout, and let a jet of lemon lime froth and liquid splatter all over the woman. She flew back in shock, knocking row after row of two-liter bottles off their shelves and entombing her legs. With a final slam of this bottle, I spun on my heels and headed for the door.
“And kiss my fat white ass!” I added over my shoulder.
“Hunter?! What the hell is going on?” Greg came running towards me as I passed the automatic doors.
“What are you gonna do, fire me?” I shouted over my shoulder, and continued walking.
I was walking faster than I’d ever had before. Not out of fear, but out of purpose, fueled by adrenaline. Savers was out of my life; it was done. Now to finish packing and get the hell out of Mike’s place. I flipped open my phone and saw that Tyler had texted me: ‘R U OK? Waiting for my signal to come.’
I walked up the lonely drive to Mike’s. The lights were on throughout the house, and I could easily tell he was there, and I could hear him stomping through the halls. He was angry. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
He pounced on me like a tiger. “The fuck is this shit?!” he hollered, holding up the rosebud.
I expected to feel scared out of my mind. He’d yelled at me like that before, and I cowered under him. But not that time. I stared right at him and pushing back against him I said, “That’s a token of love. Real love. Not your polluted concept of it. That rose is from someone who wants me.”
He took the fist he held the flower in and punched me, holding it, smashing it against my face, I felt a bone break almost immediately. I tried to scream but all I felt was in intense wave of vibration coursing from me.
“That ain’t happening. You are my bitch and you are always gonna be my bitch.” His voice was darker and viler sounding than it had ever sounded before.
I gurgled, spitting out blood as I spoke. “Then… why? Why did you kick me out of your room? Why did you say you couldn’t stand the sight of me?”
His expression softened at that question. He laughed and looked at me as if I’d made a mistake on a kindergartener’s first addition test. “I’m just tired of you right now, baby,” he said sweetly. “Everyone gets tired of their partner every so often. I just moved you out of here so you could go do what you want… or who you want, while I did who I want. Once I want you some more, you can move back in. Nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re sick,” I spat. “I don’t wany anything to do with you. He’s gonna be here soon, and I’m moving out tonight.”
“He who? Oh, your new boy toy?” He spat in my face and then punched me again, harder. My eyes crossed, and I could see the bone in my nose snap. I started to lose my orientation but I still tried to fight him off. I tried to wrench away, then remembered my stapler. I took it out of my pocket and clubbed him right in the face with it. He growled, grabbing me by the neck, dragging me out into the backyard.
I tried to yell out again but just heard a gurgle come from my throat. I looked around. The fences were so high. There were no houses on either side of us. It was a helpless place to be. My hearing started to go in and out as Mike hit me repeatedly and my legs and arms started to give. I shuddered when I felt my jeans get yanked off by the ankles, the air hitting my bare skin. “…teach you who owns…” was all I heard when I turned to watch Mike pulling off his belt. Oh God, I remember myself thinking, please take me away before I feel any more of this.
I decided that whatever happened, I wouldn’t close my eyes. I hid behind my closed eyes, and that wasn’t going to happen anymore, even if the image of Mike raping me was the last thing I would ever see.
He was the last thing I saw, temporarily. Out of the right corner of my eyes, I saw a shadowed figure swipe past. Mike disappeared in the direction of the figure. I crawled back, near a tree stump. I propped myself up. The figure was wearing a black coat. I couldn’t see who or what it was, but he held Mike up against the pillar of the back porch. I could tell they were shouting at each other. I couldn’t hear what. Everything moved in slow motion: Mike reached into his pocket, pulled out a switchblade, and stabbed the figure in the chest with it. His face twisted into a look of absolute horror; from what, I didn’t know. The figure grabbed the side of Mike’s head, and pushed it to the side. I didn’t hear it, but I knew a broken neck when I saw it, and that’s what Mike experienced. The figure cloaked around Mike, preventing me from seeing what happened next. When the figure moved towards me, I saw Mike sink to his knees, and flop lifelessly to the ground. There was a gaping hole in his throat. But there was no blood.
I laid there in open-mouthed fear. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
I saw Tyler, kneeling over me. He was panting heavily. His eyes, his once lovely eyes, were now coal red and staring right into me. His mouth, his chin… his two razor-sharp fangs… were all dripping with blood… Mike’s blood.
“Hunter,” he rasped. Flooded with adrenaline, or maybe simple unbridled fear, I tried to drag myself away from Tyler — no, away from this thing staring at me. My busted arms and lack of oxygen were proving no match for me, and I simply laid there in a heap.
Tyler descended upon me, and his red eyes and fangs were the last things I remembered seeing before I passed out.
My eyes fluttered back open when I started to feel air rush by me. Tyler was gripping onto me tightly as he dragged me back through the house, shutting the door behind us with his one free arm.
I managed to work out the energy for one gurgling sentence. “What the hell is going on?”
“I’ll explain later, Hunter, I promise. Just hold onto my waist and whatever you do, just stay that way.”
Besides the pummeling I had just taken, my head was reeling from a lot happening at once: an attack, watching my new boyfriend kill my ex-boyfriend, and seeing him come toward me, eyes red as rubies and menacing fangs dripping with spilled blood.
Apart from that, I was now clutched around his waist, while the city of Dallas whizzed by, hundreds of yards beneath my feet. It was too much for me; I started to pass out again, slipping from him. I started to freefall. He swooped down and caught me over his shoulder, continuing to do… whatever the hell he was doing, as my eyes fluttered shut again.
When I came to again, I was convulsing. My eyes darted around wildly. It took a few moments for me to realize I was back on Tyler’s floor, where I had been not two nights prior, having one of the most intimate moments of my life. Now, I feared, I was experiencing the end of my life.
Tyler took off his bloodstained jacket and started examining me. I must have been too far into shock; I knew he was touching parts of me that were split open or broken, and I felt nothing.
“Honey, listen to me. You don’t have much time; you’re busted up too bad and your organs are starting to fail. I can help you, but you have to trust me.” He wasn’t asking—again, he was ordering, but in the way only a loving, caring mate could. With that, he opened his mouth, and I watched as his top two canines suddenly extended and made chisel-like points.