The lobby was still brightly lit by the afternoon sun when they exited the theater. Butch had to squint his eyes against the sudden onslaught after the hours of darkness. The Shining was one of his favorite movies, and the original was definitely the best. Once his eyes adjusted, he grabbed hold of Frankie's elbow and steered him from the theater. Jodie waved as they passed the ticket booth, her colorful bangles jingling with the movement.
Once outside, Butch let go of the hustler's sleeve easily falling into step next to his friend.
"Thanks for coming out with me, man," Butch started. He really did appreciate the company. It was nice to be with someone he was comfortable around. He and Amy had lost a lot of that over the last couple of months, and it was great to have that feeling again.
"No problem. I need to get out more. Start doing something other than work. My sister's been on me about it for a while now. She thinks I'm too much of a loner." Frankie was smiling slightly, watching a group of kids playing on the other side of the street. Butch was once more struck by how handsome Frankie really was. He wasn't a pretty boy for sure, wasn't a guy most girls these days giggled and swooned over. Butch could see the appeal, though.
He turned his head away, instead keeping his eyes forward as they continued on to Kelso's. He had been noticing Frankie more and more lately. It had hit him a while ago that this wasn't how most boys thought about their male friends. It had bothered him for a whole six days. The truth was that Butch was comfortable with himself to a degree most people his age usually didn't understand. This new knowledge about himself had shaken him, but by the sixth day he had come to the conclusion that it really didn't matter in the long run. He was still the same person, still had the same beliefs and values, still cared about Frankie. And that was alright.
"Hey." Frankie's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Earth to Butch! We're here, man." He was standing under the awning outside Kelso's, one hand on the door. Butch shook himself out of his internal musings.
"Sorry," he grinned and waved his hand dismissively. "Just thinking."
"Don't hurt yourself," Frankie laughed, stepping into the shop. The bell above the door rang as they crossed the threshold into the air conditioned shop. It was Friday night, so of course Kelso's was packed. Only luck allowed them to grab a booth near the front. But the crowd did not stop more people from squeezing into the small space of the store-slash-soda shop.
"Hey, Frankie," Sam Collins greeted as he and Dave passed their booth. The identical twins didn't really look identical anymore, Butch mused as the two squeezed into a booth down the aisle already filled with people. Dave had joined the football team back in freshman year and bulked up a bit. He had even shaved his head into a mohawk. Sam had strayed towards the other end of the spectrum, getting elected student council treasurer and keeping his glasses instead of getting contacts. The changes had not affected how close the two brothers were at all, or their love for dirt. They had jobs with Samson & Sons landscaping every summer, putting all that digging practice to good use.
"Why does Sam have a black eye?" Frankie asked casually, turning back to look at Butch. The other boy was trying to hide a smirk but wasn't doing it very well.
"What? Is it something awful? It is, isn't it? I don't wanna know." He shook his head emphatically. Butch watched the display, his grin growing with each exaggerated statement.
"It's not that bad," he assured. "From what I heard, Sam tried to dye Dave's hair hot pink while he was sleeping. Dave woke up, didn't recognize him, and clocked him pretty good. But some of his hair was already turning pink, so he decided to just finish it off."
"Well, that explains the sudden love of fluorescent colors," the hustler nodded, looking over at Dave's vibrant hair. The waitress came over and took their orders, returning quickly with drinks. The conversation was easy. They talked about classes and baseball, their fellow students and plans for the weekend.
"I'm going to the batting cages over at the park tomorrow morning," Butch explained. "I like to get some practice every weekend if I can." Butch had always loved baseball, had even thought about trying out for the school team. But early morning practices and staying after school just didn't cut it in his book. Now, he just played at the park and used it to keep in shape.
"I've got a few deals to run through in the morning. I need to call over to Uganda early so I catch them in the afternoon," Frankie took a sip of his drink and thought over his schedule.
"What on earth do you need to call Uganda for?" Butch asked. He looked skeptical but, everyone knew Frankie could get anything from anywhere. It made sense he would have contacts around the world. But Uganda?
"Coffee," he stated simply. "My sister loves Uganda's Robusta Coffee. I try and keep it in the house, and I sell it to that coffee place, The Grinder, in the next town."
Butch had to laugh; of course Frankie would find a way to turn a gift into a profit. He always did.
"I'll drop by the park tomorrow after I'm done, though. Maybe we can get lunch," Frankie suggested.
"Sure! That'd be great!" Butch had hoped he could goad the other boy into coming out again. It was always better with someone else, and the day had been fun. Frankie was grinning now, and Butch found that he had a hard time stopping his own smile.
They finished up their meal, paid, and left. The sun was low in the sky, turning the horizon a dull red. They walked back to the theater together, even though Butch's house was within walking distance in the other direction. Frankie's car was the only one left in the small parking lot. Opening the door, he leaned against the window.
"Thanks for inviting me along," he started. Butch just shrugged and waved dismissively. It was fun having the hustler around.
"No big deal, man. Happy for the company. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Butch backed away from the car, letting Frankie get in and start it up.
"See ya', Butch," the hustler called as he began pulling away. Butch just gave a half wave and turned to make his way back down the alley. It had been a good night.
xxxx
Frankie turned the radio down on the drive home. His mind was a little too cluttered for distractions right now. He had had a great time tonight. It wasn't anything amazing, no "Best night ever!" feelings, just different. It was different to get away from work and spend some time just relaxing with a friend.
But Butch was fun to be around. Maybe it was just the lack of distractions, his focus being centered on Butch. Any other time he spent with friends, whether chatting with Ashley Q. or hanging out with TJ and Spinelli, he was also working. He was always easy to find; selling out of his car or his stock rooms at the school, sometimes people just came to hang around and talk. Tonight, it had just been him and Butch.
Frankie had almost convinced himself that it was the end of it. He just needed to take more time away from work to spend with friends. He was about to turn the radio back up when the smell of cigarette smoke caught his attention. He was stopped at a light near a local bar, a small crowd of people gathered around the entrance smoking. The image of Butch in the alley, a cigarette in hand, was suddenly all Frankie could think about. The way he would let a lit smoke hang casually between his full lips until he was ready to speak, how the smoke would curl in wisps around his face when he exhaled.
The beep of a horn snapped him out of his thoughts, and he began to move through the now green light. He shook his head to clear it, but the damage was done. If the heat he could feel on his cheeks and ears weren't enough proof, the tightness in his jeans certainly was. He was attracted to Butch.
He drove the rest of the way home on autopilot. His mind was in turmoil, and by the time he exited the car and made it into the house, he was sure he was going to be sick. The churning of his stomach reached a peak as he walked into the kitchen. He ran to the sink and emptied the last of his dinner into the basin.
"Frankie? That you?" Gina called. He tried to clear his throat and call back to her, but another wave of sickness overtook him and he couldn't. He heard her come around the corner into the kitchen but was too preoccupied to look up. Finally his stomach began to calm. He coughed and unclenched his fingers from the lip of the sink. A glass of cold water appeared in front of him, Gina's bright pink nail polish reflected in the clear glass. She leaned against the counter as he downed the water gratefully.
"Are you okay? That was pretty bad," she said as she turned to rinse out the sink. "Are you coming down with something?"
Frankie couldn't look at her right away. Just thinking of it made his stomach churn up the water he had just filled it with.
"I don't know. I feel a little better now, though," he lied. He tried to give her a half smile, but he could tell by the look on her face he had failed.
"Come on. I'm out on the patio. Come sit down for a while. You're really pale," she said as she guided him out onto the back patio. The lights were on in the yard, and the surround sound system was playing music. He could see she had gotten the patio furniture out of the basement and set them up, a Coke and a book marked where she had been sitting.
"You waiting up for me, sis?" he asked. She rolled her eyes and flopped back into her chair. He settled himself sideways on the porch swing and pulled his knees up to his chest.
"I wasn't waiting up. We went out to The Docks and they had a DJ. I was still a little wired when I got home so I was just reading."
She was looking at him now, expecting an explanation. The concern was obvious in her brown eyes, and his guts twisted with guilt. He hated making her worry.
"So what did you do tonight?" she asked. "Anything new with the business?"
For a moment, he considered lying, considered making up some story about spending the evening wheeling and dealing as usual.
"Actually, a friend invited me to the movies tonight." He was never a good liar anyway. Gina raised a perfect eyebrow in that questioning way she had.
"Q?" she asked curiously. Ashley Q. was probably the only other person he saw on a pretty regular basis. It was a good guess.
"Ah… no. It was Butch. Ya know, I talk about him sometimes…" He could feel the tightness in his stomach twist back up just at the mention of the other boy.
"Oh," she responded carefully. "And you went? You never go out if you have work to do." She had a point. It was unusual for him.
"I didn't have a lot to do tonight. We just went to the Classic and then to Kelsos," he explained. He was trying to act like it was nothing.
"Well, I'm glad. You need to get out more," she seemed satisfied with the answer, maybe even a little smug that he was finally taking her advice.
"Yeah, um… I think I'm just going to go up to bed," he finished awkwardly. Rising off the swing, he gave a halfhearted goodnight as he went back inside.
The air conditioner made goosebumps on his arms as he stepped in from the heat of the outside. Upstairs in his room, he made his way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. He gripped the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles hurt. The face in the mirror was pale and gaunt looking. Suddenly, he was so tired he could barely stand. He grabbed a wash cloth and quickly washed his face, scrubbing away the cold sweat that was gathering on his skin.
He fell into bed, expecting to fall right to sleep. But even though his body felt bone tired, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. He tossed and turned as his mind switched between complete denial of ever considering Butch attractive and the image of perfect lips wrapped around a lit cigarette, of strong arms braced against the doorframe of his storeroom at the school, of calloused fingers flicking a silver lighter back and forth, on and off.
