Читать книгу Eight Inches - Sean Wolfe Fay - Страница 15

Carlos and Rosie were watching Saturday Night Live. It wasn’t Saturday night at all, only Friday evening. And the show wasn’t live, it was syndicated. Rosie’s bedtime was eight-thirty, but she’d been looking forward to seeing the show so badly that Carlos said he’d allow her to stay up late to watch it. Fergie was the guest host, and next to Hannah Montana, she thought Fergie was possibly the best thing since cherry Red Vines.

Rosie knew she had Carlos wrapped around her baby fingers, and at five years old, she knew how to fully manipulate her older brother to her full advantage. When she’d first asked Carlos to let her stay up until eleven so she could see Fergie, he’d said no, as she knew he would. She crawled into his lap and cried softly. Within three minutes Carlos had relented, as she also knew he would. When he made popcorn to snack on during the show, she’d asked for extra butter. Carlos did not like butter on his popcorn, but Rosie batted her baby browns, and of course Carlos melted half a stick of butter. He recognized her little games, but was still powerless against them, and if he were honest with himself, he would admit that he liked it that way.

Rosie was halfway through her cute little bump-and-grind dance to “London Bridge” when her mother came crashing through the front door and fell into the living room. Rosie stopped her dance and stared wide-eyed as Carlos ran to his mother.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Carlos cried as he tried to help her stand. Her face was cut and bleeding, and her eye was beginning to swell shut with what would soon be a very bad black eye.

“Run, baby,” she said, and spit blood. “Get outta here and run to your friend’s house.”

“What happened?”

“Just go, Carlos. He’s coming right now.”

Lydia was still trying to gain her footing, but kept falling. Carlos helped her to the couch, and turned to little Rosie. She was still staring bug-eyed at her mother, and a tiny tear was falling down her cheek.

“Go to your room, princess,” Carlos told her. “Shut the door and don’t come out here, okay? Just go to sleep. Everything will be okay in the morning.”

Rosie stood frozen in her place, and at first Carlos thought she wasn’t breathing. He walked over and carried her to their bedroom. He tucked her into bed and kissed her on the forehead. She was still staring blankly ahead. Carlos thought she might be in shock, but figured she’d probably be all right. He wasn’t so sure about his mom, though, and went out to see her.

“Honey, you have to go,” Lydia told him. “I’ll be all right. Please, just go stay at your friend’s house.”

“Yes, Carlos,” his father yelled from the front door, “why don’t you go stay with your little faggot friend.”

“Oh my God,” Lydia cried. “Please, Juan, don’t be like this.”

“Shut up, you bitch,” Juan yelled.

Carlos had already decided he wasn’t going to back down this time. Seeing his mother beaten like that had made up his mind.

“Don’t call her a bitch,” Carlos said sharply.

“What did you say?” Juan yelled back.

“I said don’t call my mother a bitch.”

“You little punk,” Juan said, and charged Carlos. He landed a punch to Carlos’ jaw, and Carlos fell to the ground.

“Stop it!” Lydia screamed.

Carlos stood up and charged back at his father. He slammed his head into Juan’s stomach and knocked him on his ass onto the floor. Juan pulled Carlos down with him and threw a fist into Carlos’ stomach. Carlos gasped for breath and Juan was on his feet, kicking him in the back. Carlos grabbed Juan’s leg and yanked it out from under him. Juan landed on his back and Carlos was up in a moment, kicking his foot into Juan’s crotch as hard as he could. Juan’s eyes rolled back into his head. Carlos kept kicking his father hard in the groin, and after five or six hard kicks, Juan lost consciousness.

Carlos stopped kicking his father and simply stared at him for a moment as he lay unconscious. Then he collapsed onto the couch and began to cry. His mother pulled him to her chest and cradled him.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. So sorry, baby.”

“Mom, what happened?”

“He got drunk again and said he was going to kill you. I tried to talk to him, but he started hitting me. Some guys at the bar pulled him off of me and I ran home. God, Carlos, I’m so scared.”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Carlos said, drying his own tears and regaining his composure.

“What are we going to do, baby?”

“We aren’t going to do anything. I’m going to leave.”

“Carlos…”

“No, Mom. He only fights about me. He never hits you or Princess unless he’s pissed at me. I have some money saved up and I can stay with a friend.”

“Oh, Carlos,” Lydia sobbed.

Carlos kissed his mom on the cheek and got up to go to his room. He noticed Juan stirring, beginning to regain consciousness.

“Gotta hurry.” He nodded to Juan. “I’ll be in touch, Mom. I love you.”

Carlos went to his room and took the money from his sock drawer. He counted $1,700 and put it in his front pocket. Then he put some clothes in a paper bag and walked to his window. He stopped at the window and walked back to his little sister.

“I love you, princess,” he told the sleeping girl.

With that done, he climbed through the window into the cold night.

Ricky saw Carlos walking toward him with the paper bag and wondered what was going on. He walked away from the Supremo’s entryway and met Carlos halfway. He noticed the blood and the beginning of bruises right away and his heart sped up.

“Child, what in hell happened to you?”

“Family problems,” Carlos said, trying to minimize the conversation.

“More like a catastrophe, it looks like.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Listen, Ricky, I’ve got an idea. You said you wanted to get away, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m leaving home. How would you like to share a motel room together?”

“You mean for good?”

“Well, for a while anyway. We can find a cheap motel and split the rent.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I saved up some money. That’ll get us started, then from then on out we split the rent fifty-fifty. What do you say?”

“Let’s do it!”

They walked a few blocks down Geary Street to the Rainbow Ranch Motel. It was a series of duplex-like rooms consisting of a bathroom, a tiny kitchenette, and a combination living room/bedroom. Ricky had been there a few times with tricks, and a room had cost $50 per night. Because Carlos and Ricky were paying two weeks in advance and told the clerk they’d be staying for a while longer after that, he let them have their suite for $200 a week.

Carlos situated his clothes neatly in the closet and bureau drawers, and the boys decided to wait until the next day to get Ricky’s clothes.

“They can wait,” Ricky said, “but there’s something that can’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Carlos, hon. You’re hurting and I can tell you want to talk. What happened?”

“My dad beat the hell out of my mom and then came after me. He got in a few good punches before I knocked him out cold.”

“Why did he go off like that?”

“Because he’s not my real dad. Right after she married him, my mom had an affair with a white guy. I’m his son. My dad, I mean Juan, can’t stand me. Every time he sees me he goes crazy. I’ve tried to be a real son to him. I’ve tried really hard. I don’t know why he hates me so much. It’s not my fault what happened.”

“Of course it’s not. He’s just stupid, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I know. My mom still loves him though, and I have a little sister. She’s his. He’s really nice to both of them. The only time he’s rowdy is when he’s drinking and I’m around to remind him of the affair. He’ll take good care of them as long as I’m gone. That’s why I left.”

“I’m sorry to hear it’s such a shitty story, man. But remember what you always tell me? Look only forward…no looking back. If anyone can make it out on his own, I know you can.”

“What do you mean, out on my own. Now we’re in this together.”

“Right.”

“Ricky, we’re gonna have to be careful with our money now. That means you’re gonna have to cut down on your drug habit and use the money for rent.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s gonna be hard, but I’ll try really hard, Carlos, really I will.”

“Good! Now what do you say we go out and make some money?”

“All right!”

They went back to Supremo’s and began their routine. It was already 1:00 A.M., and a very slow night. Carlos got only two dates and Ricky only one. They decided to call it a night at 3:00 A.M. and headed back to the motel. Inside the room Carlos was met with a dilemma he never expected.

“Carlos, love,” Ricky cooed.

“Hmm?”

“Do you like me?”

“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

“A serious one.”

“What’s up, Ricky?”

“I want you to make love to me.”

“What?” Carlos coughed out.

“I want you to make love to me.”

“Oh Jesus, Ricky.”

“Carlos, I like you a lot. I feel like you’re my only friend. When I go to bed with someone, I don’t feel anything. The men fuck me and then get rid of me as soon as they can. I play no part in it whatsoever. They use my ass, pay me, and then throw me away. Just once I want to really make love with someone. I want to feel something for the person who’s inside me. Just once, I’d like to cum, too.”

“Christ, Ricky,” Carlos said, sitting next to Ricky on the bed. “You are my friend. I can’t make love to you. I’d feel like I was just another of those men using you.”

“But you said you like me. That makes all the difference. None of those other men care for me one way or the other.”

“Ricky, if we had sex it would ruin our friendship. I don’t have sex for the fun of it, man. I fuck for money, and so do you. Besides,” Carlos tried his hand at comic relief, “I wouldn’t know how much to charge you.”

Ricky didn’t laugh.

“You think I’m ugly, don’t you? You don’t like my body.”

“Come on, man, it’s not that.”

“You have a great body, Carlos, anyone can see that. You have big muscles, a big cock, and a gorgeous face. I know I can’t compete with that on the streets, but I thought with you I wouldn’t have to look like Prince Charming.”

“Ricky…”

“Hey, it’s all right, Carlos. I understand. Still friends, right?”

“You know we are, Ricky.”

“Good. Let’s get some sleep.”

Ricky stripped and climbed into bed stark-assed naked. Carlos lay on top of the comforter, fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling until sunrise.