Whoot! Chapter two! :D Haha, anyways. I really hope you guys are liking this so far. If there's anything I should change or fix, don't hesistate to let me know! If you've read this on deviantart, drop me a message! :D Enjoy~ Early Thursday morning, 2:29 AM
I'd ended up in Los Angeles. How, I have no idea. I only remember driving, occasionally stopping for gas or for the bathroom. Only once did I pull off into a small town for a cheeseburger and a Coke. Other than that, I just drove. I did eighties on the high way and in passing towns just minute digits above the speed limit. I'd covered almost four hundred miles in under twelve hours, needless to say I was fucking proud of myself since the longest I'd driven for before was a mere fifty miles, and that had been to visit my Grandmother in San Francisco. That had been one of the best road trips I'd ever done, and I wish now that I could do it again, but it's looking unlikely.
I entered a long stretch, the city lights gleaming into the sky, illuminating the world as if it was still daylight outside. I was a bit awestruck as I came closer and closer to that of Los Angeles, but I could feel excitement pumping in my veins. The thoughts that I didn't have a place to stay didn't register. I was in marvel at the city lights and sounds, so different but so similar to that of Sacramento. The thing about L.A. was that there was more— more clubs, more corporate, more industry, more music, more fame, more everything… Sacramento was the mere wannabe it seemed. I drove with steady ease, fluidly swerving in and out of lanes and cars. I received honks and fingers now and then, but I didn't give a damn.
My stereo was rocking out hardcore with some Guns 'N' Roses; my head was bobbing, my fingers tapping, my voice ringing out into the city night. Fortunately, driving on the highway into L.A., there was no issue of residential area— no one to be bothered by the music. I grinned at my reflection into the rear view mirror, racing along faster down the road. I was only bordering upon the low seventies, but it was fast for the Demon. Haha, Demon. And this car doesn't have nearly the speed as others do.
Soaring on pavement like birds flying high (you know how I feel, haha), I spun the wheel, swerving into city streets, slowing the speed down to forty. I rolled down my window, inhaling the smog and the exhaust mixing itself into the dank air. I smiled. Nothing could beat a true night life like L.A., though I'd heard Vegas was pretty nifty, I'd never been. Not even for my twenty-first birthday. This made me incredibly sad, but Allison had been the one managing it that year since I had no money. And needless to say, my birthday consisted of a night at home, listening to Christian rock and eating meat loaf. Really, really shitty meat loaf.
I shook my head, driving down the street, before turning and pulling into a parking lot of a local bar. I needed a drink after a drive like that. Endless hours of roads and cities, burgers and watered down beers. I'm sure if any kind of a cop pulled me over, I would have been arrested since I was still a bit dizzy from my recent binging. And then along with the few beers I'd had throughout the day… Yeah… I wasn't exactly the most influential person in terms of right and wrong with drinking and driving, but at least I didn't drink while I drove. Even I'm not that stupid.
Killing the engine, I tucked my iPod into a safe place, getting out of the car and locking it up tight. It was still California, and I didn't trust anybody with anything. But I had hopes for certain that it wouldn't be as bad as Sacramento. But hopes could only get you so far in a city like this. I shoved the keys into my pocket, turning towards the building. It was a nice size, spacious looking with a second story. Perhaps a loft or the bartender's home? I couldn't be sure as I began crossing the lot. A cool wind blew at my back as I reached the door, pushing it open slowly. The bar was dimly lit, music playing in the back somewhere. A few TVs were tuned into a football game. The air was thick with smoke and alcohol. I inhaled deeply and smiled to myself, tossing my hair out of my face as I walked closer to the bar. Some of the guys turned and gave me a quizzical look. The ladies lifted their eye brows and batted their eye lashes, holding cigarettes between their thin fingers. Acrylic nails glittered under neon lights and belt buckles were cast with strange shadows. I smiled to myself.
I was at home here.
I slid between two people at the bar, waving down the bartender. He was a scruffy man, a full beard stretched along his face, his eyebrows thick with sweat, his brow glistening. A red bandana was tied over his thinning hair and his eyes were hard in the light. He was drying a glass with oversized hands and a dirty rag as he hobbled over to me, setting the glass down upon the table with a soft clank. I glanced along the titles of tap, trying to find something— anything— of interest.
"What'll it be, son?" He asked me. My thin eyebrows knit themselves together for a moment, before I decided.
"Coors on tap, please." I said over the music, pulling out a ten dollar bill. The glasses were of a pretty nice size, not to mention Coors was tasty. The man could get himself a drink with the extra tip. He filled the newly dried glass to the brim with golden liquid and foam. I smiled, taking the beer from him and sipping on the froth. It burned my tongue and throat as it slid down. Ahh, beer that wasn't watered down. This was the best way to end a long drive and start a new night. While it wasn't really in my best interest to get shitfaced when I didn't even have a place to stay, I could afford to splurge a little. Maybe the tender could let me sleep in the back or something for the night if it got too bad…
"Budweiser on tap!" Someone shouted next to me. I winced, taking another gulp of my beer as I reclined against the lip of the counter. I sensed the person staring at me hard, and I swallowed, turning my head. I coughed a little as beer came back up. His mangy black hair and bright green eyes were familiar as always. His shoulders had gotten broader, his face fuller— he'd even gotten taller. But I'd never forget that face, that smile, those eyes. I felt memories piling at the back of my mind, behind walls of summer heat, whore sex, and alcohol. The nights of party had diluted those of senior trips and college papers. I set my beer down on the counter as he spoke.
"Thomas Joe Ratliff. Fuck, I never thought I'd see you in good ol' Los Angeles." He said with a one million dollar grin. I gave him a man hug; big arms and slapping against his back before pulling away. He hadn't changed at all…
"Alexander Rylie Pruitt. I heard you were moving to L.A., but I didn't think I'd see you here." I said in response, taking another drink of my beer as he swallowed his first gulp. Through senior year of high school, he had been my drinking buddy whenever my parents went out of town. And in college we'd have parties all night long when we should have been studying for exams. He was one of the few friends I'd made in all my educating years that I trusted with anything. And he trusted me in return. We were like brothers. Really drunk brothers.
"Yeah well, you know how it is. Gotta get out of Sacramento sometime." He said with a laugh. I chuckled in response, shaking my head as I took another drink. "So how long have you been in L.A.?" I frowned, pulling out my phone and checking the time. Shit, three am.
"Um… Half an hour?" I laughed as he coughed into his beer, his face alight with shock and laughter.
"Seriously? Half a fucking hour? Shit dude, and you're already drinking?" I nodded, taking another gulp. He laughed. "Man… please tell me you grew some balls and remembered to find a place before…" I shook my head.
"Fuck…" He murmured. I smiled at him. "No…" He began. I gave him puppy dog eyes behind my glass.
"No!!" He said again. I whimpered. He rolled his eyes.
"Fine. Whatever, you can stay with me. But only for a week. After a week, you gotta jet." I punched the air in victory, finishing my beer and setting the glass down on the counter.
"Why a week?" I asked.
"Just… cause. Got things to do, stuff to prepare for…"
"Please, Alex, you've never had anything to do except party and fool around. Why only a week?" I didn't really like pushing him like this, but there as a look on his face that was making me curious.
"Cause… I don't think my… roommate… would appreciate it really… You being good looking and all…" He muttered. My face flushed at his uncomfortable look. He appeared so young, so small, so like the dorky Alex I'd known back in high school when I had to save him from getting picked on by the football fucks. But it was in this innocent look that a light blush began it's travel across his cheeks, and I pieced certain things together in my muddled, drunk brain. Was he? No… he couldn't— Alex? With another…? I raised an eyebrow as he looked up at me, the bangs of his hair falling into his face, hiding his eyes from me.
"Alex?" He tilted his head a little higher; his eyes shy behind his hair. "Are you— ya know…" I couldn't say it. I couldn't ask the question entirely. But he knew what I was implying; he knew it well.
"Yes Tommy. I'm gay." I stared at him for a long while, trying to visualize my old friend— Little Alex, gay? No… I couldn't see it. But all the same, I could. I could see him holding hands with another guy, kissing male lips, being devoured by strong eyes and hands. I felt heat rising to my face at the idea, and shook my head with a slight smile, before clapping him on his shoulder. He grinned at me as I gave him an approving look. I couldn't trust my voice at this point.
How could I have not known though? All the signs in high school— the sudden intrigue in hanging out with the girls, the eye liner and shadow, the gloss, the occasional flecks of glitter. The amazing fashion, the quirky voice. I sighed as the bartender handed me another drink, and I greedily gulped a good half of it down. All the little things I had failed to notice when everyone else was making fun of him. I saved him time and time again from the insults, but I never paid the slightest fraction of attention to it. How he must have needed me when I seemed so oblivious. I felt bad, but I was happy for him now. Apparently he was in a stable relationship, happy and giddy. I glanced over at him, seeing him sipping on his second draft, a kind of fire in his eyes that I was rather unfamiliar with. I chuckled, and took another drink.
"So, what's he like?" I asked him. Alex turned his head, frowning for a moment as the fire died. It was replaced with a gleam of joy, and he giggled— he fucking giggled!!
"Well… He's a sweetheart. A total rock and roll junkie who's high off life. He's cute— well, to me. He's funny and charming, a total doll." I laughed; God his vocabulary was gay, in a nice way. "I mean, he's not everyone's cup of tea, and he knows this, but he's such an amazing guy. He's got heart and soul and damn good looks… Fuck, look at me, rambling about him…" Alex blushed and I laughed into my beer.
"Well, it's good to hear you've found someone. A good man's hard to find I hear." I laughed again, taking another drink. Alex just rolled his eyes and mock punched me in the shoulder.
"Yeah whatever. I don't see you getting a girlfriend anytime soon. Come to join the dark side?" I snorted, swooshing my hair out of my face again.
"As if. The only way you'll ever know that I've 'joined the dark side' is if you wake up one morning with my dick in your throat."
"Bitch please. I'll be so far up your ass, you'll feel me in your throat." We both stared at each other for a brief moment before busting up into hysterical fits of laughter. Such laughter that other people were giving us strange looks. God, I missed Alex. I missed random conversations with him. True, they weren't always like this, in fact they never were, but there was something comforting about the familiar raunchy humor that we shared with one another. I finished swallowing it down, before glancing at my phone again. A good hour had past. I could feel exhaustion pulling at my face.
"Hey— Alex, could we head out?" I asked him. His eyes cleared into focus, and he nodded once. He motioned for me to follow him out, tossing a twenty onto the counter before turning away. The bar had cleared out some since I had gotten there, but it was still pretty crowded for nearly four in the morning. Alex slid between several burly men. I, being taller than him, had a harder time getting through, but I managed. The sunlight was far from reaching the city of Los Angeles, but it was plenty bright with the city lights and neon glows. I stumbled slightly behind Alex as he turns and holds his hand out to me.
"What?" I ask him. He frowns.
"I'm not letting you drive. Give me your keys, Thomas." I growled; I hated it when people used my name like that. I grudgingly pulled the Dodge key, hooked to my hold house keys, from my pocket, and slammed them into Alex's palm. He gave me a quirky smile and practically skipped to the driver's side of the Demon. I sighed, running my fingers through the darker half of my hair as I fumbled my way to the passenger door. Alex unlocked it from the inside, and I opened the door, sliding onto the leather, and shutting it again. Clipping my seat belt into place, I reclined against the seat as Alex started the car.
The drive was silent, lasting only a few minutes. But I couldn't be sure of the actual length of time, considering my head lolled side to side in a half-conscious daze. The alcohol was hammering into my head, along with the previous hangover. I needed to learn to stop drinking, but I couldn't help it. It was too fucking delicious to give up on. I couldn't remember what turns were made, what streets we passed, or what lights were flashing on billboards. I remember motion and I remember stopping in front of an apartment complex. I groggily pulled myself from the car, staring up at the building. White walls, light blue doors, blue window frames, a mossy black roof. Three stories tall. Nothing intriguing or stand-outish by comparison to the rest of the city. At least it was somewhere to stay for the time being.
"Alright baby, don't worry about your stuff. My boy and I can take care of it for you later, okay? Up we go…" He had his hand around my waist, easing me up the first flight of stairs. His apartment was on the second level, and my drunkness plus stairs did not equal a pleasant conclusion. But with Alex supporting my deadening weight, it was a possible task that required little effort of my half. Though I couldn't say the same for him, sadly. We walked more, down a wooden, old path, before reaching a door. 222. I rested against the wall as Alex pulled his own keys from his pocket, and unlocked the wooden slab, helping me inside. The apartment was dark, with the exception of the living room. It was dimly lit. I couldn't make out much, my vision was fading. But there was a couch, an entertainment center with a TV and stereo, a side table with a lamp, a coffee table, and a few art pieces on the wall.
There was a tall man leaning in the archway of the hall that led off to another part of the apartment. His hair was a dusty brown, facial hair in a thin layer on his face. He wasn't bad looking for four in the morning, but then again, I didn't really care for him in the first place. Alex guided me to the couch, helping me lie down on it. He untied my shoes and set them aside, tossing a blanket over me. My head lolled to the side, and I found myself slipping slowly into darkness. I was far gone, but not too far to hear them talking.
"Alex— I'm just not sure about having another guy staying here…"
"Baby, he's my friend from high school. And that's all we are. I don't even think he's anything but straight. You don't have to be so jealous."
"I'm not jealous, Alex!"
"Please, baby." There was a slopping sound of skin on skin, and I was too exhausted to mock the motion of vomiting.
"Alright fine. But only for a week or so.."
"I've already told him that."
"Good, good…"
"Thank you, Drake…"
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