It didn't take Kristoff long to pack his meager collection of personal belongings into the back of Pitch's rental truck. The grey guy's strange attendant had come to help him out, and as the bronze muscles of the attendant's shoulders bulged beneath his jacket, Kristoff's mother watched in awe. "Cliff, go help those kids out," she barked, and Kristoff's father gave a sigh of exasperation before lumbering over to pick up a few stray boxes of ramen noodles. Those were shoved near the passenger seat of the vehicle while Kristoff and Pitchinus Junior hauled his mangy leather sofa into the back. With that the brunt of the move was finished, and the boys stood and wiped their faces against the backs of their wrists as they admired their work.
"I haven't been out in the sun like this for years," sighed Pitch Jr., his golden eyes surveying the horizon with a hint of a smile. Then he turned to Kris and punched him playfully in the arm. "Your family is... interesting," he added. In return Kris gave a snort and shrugged. "They sure are..." then his brows furrowed. "Say, you know your weird behavior yesterday?"
Though the smile left Pitch's face he nodded for Kris to continue, so he did. "Why did you start calling whale and then say you were possessing yourself? And who is Pitch Black?"
"Pitch Black is sleeping in the chamber beneath the shack," murmured P Jr. in return. "He is I. I am he. The body I inhabit as we speak is not my own." When a look of confusion muddled Kristoff's face in response, PJ ignored it and pointed to the porch. Then, he closed the rental vehicle trunk and scaled the porch steps towards the break in the gnome and plant garden, where Cliff and Bulda stood waiting. "I hope I didn't take up too much of your time and resources," murmured PJ with a slight bow, and Bulda let out a girly giggle, flailing her hand out as if to say, "stop". In reply PJ gave a crinkly smile. Kristoff rolled his eyes along with Cliff.
"Offer him dinner," muttered Bulda to Cliff, making the man stifle a groan. In good nature he asked PJ if he'd like to stay for supper. With a sly grin PJ replied yes, and Kristoff was sent off to the local grocery store while his employer stayed and spoke with his parents. All the way to the supermarket Kristoff muttered to himself, kicking the snow aside as he shoved his hands in his pockets. Like a child his mother had given him twenty dollars to buy dinner. He swore she still lived through a rose colored vision of the sixties, when a Sunday meal for four didn't cost two hundred bucks. Still, he had the money to spare nowadays, and he liked buying things for them. It made him feel independent. Stopping in his tracks, Kristoff wondered if that was a bad thing.
With a shrug he waltzed on, breaking from his street and cutting across the adjacent tennis and basketball courts to a massive field of snow. Across from this was the strip mall containing the grocery store. As the forgotten sports field dulled to nothingness in the snowy haze behind him, Kristoff jogged across the empty road and crossed the supermarket parking lot, pressing open the store's double doors mid whistle. Immediately he retrieved a cart and used it as a scooter to reach the vegetable aisle. Dinner tonight would be a standard brussel sprout, carrot, gravy, blood sausage, and potato affair, with a sophisticated selection of desert and champagne- aka, boxed wine and cake. For himself and his father he picked up something called Malbec. His mother liked anything. A prepackaged apple crumble would do for desert. When all was done Kristoff decided to sneak to the candy aisle for jelly worms.
When he finally wheeled his way into his aisle of choice he scanned the shelves for the off brand stuff. Then he pursed his lips. Would PJ scoff at him if he bought cheap? As he pondered it Kristoff leaned backwards, bumping into a small kid streamlining around the corner with a few friends. When the familiar scraggly blond mop of hair gave a feverish apology and the green eyes concealed within glanced up, the child swept her locks aside and gaped.
It was the kid who Kristoff had saved from the bullies, and she was looking up at him with a gaze of pure admiration.
"You saved me!" blubbered the child. Then, without provocation she wrapped her arms around Kristoff's waist and gave him an enormous hug. Immediately images of the snow machine comment returned to Kristoff's head, and to escape further implications of child molestation from the police he peeled the scrawny mess from his stomach and set her a good two feet away from himself, pretending to look at the candy as he spoke to her from the side of his lip. It didn't help that the kid talked straight at him.
"I'm not supposed to see you," muttered Kristoff in exasperation, but the kid only giggled and averted her gaze, pretending to look at the candy as well.
"I know, but I had to say hi," she whispered, adding in a throaty whisper, "You saved my life," like she was about to cry. Kristoff stifled a groan but smiled to abate his tiny companion. "Don't mention it," he added in a mutter, continuing, "seriously. I'd rather you didn't mention it."
"I won't," promised the kid. As an afterthought she held out her palm for Kris to shake. "My name is Sophie Bennett. What's yours?"
"It's Bubba," Kristoff lied, the sweat dripping from his brow. Inside he cursed for using the name of the rapper known for "Ms. New Booty".
"Bubba?" muttered Sophie with a confused expression, and Kristoff quickly amended that he actually meant Bulda. And then he changed again and said that his name was Bob.
"Is your name Bubba or Bob?" blubbered Sophie.
"It's Jake," snapped Kristoff in response. Was that a rapist name? He didn't think he could get away with another change.
"But when I met you, you said your name was Kris!" Sophie snapped. Cursing under his breath Kristoff tried, "that's a nickname," but Sophie giggled rather loud and nudged her new buddy in the arm like they were accomplices in petty crime. "That's okay, I'll call you Kris anyway. Do you want to meet my friend Jack?"
"No, kid, get lost," muttered Kristoff.
"What?" asked Sophie, leaning so close that her shoulder brushed against Kris's sleeve. Out of the corner of his eye Kris noticed an old woman looking his way with a very suspicious glance, and in fear he pushed Sophie away, got his jelly worms, and hurried down the next aisle. To his dismay little footsteps padded behind him. "You've got to meet Jack," Sophie whispered with love as she followed Kris down the aisle. "He's a real cool guy. He's the snow spirit, the guardian of fun. You know, Jack Frost?"
"Yeah, I know all about him," burst Kristoff in irritation, nearly forgetting to buy brown sugar. He thought he saw the same old lady traveling towards him from the opposite end of the aisle. She was pretending to look at cleaning products.
"You do? Then let's go meet him!" beamed Sophie, whizzing to the end of the aisle and pointing towards the supermarket double doors. Scared out of his wits, Kristoff tried ignoring the kid, but the old woman came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Sir, did you tell that child to wait outside for you?" she hissed, and Kristoff went red in terror and embarrassment. Throwing his hands up in surrender, he reassured the woman that he had no idea who the kid was. But he didn't get much out before a full on argument started.
"I know that girl's mother and I will tell her all about you!" warned the old lady as Kristoff backed away. Just when he tried defending himself again, Sophie charged to his side and tugged on his shirt. "Aren't you coming?" she asked. With this the old woman went ballistic. While she shielded Sophie from Kristoff with her right arm, she batted the young man with the bottle of bleach in her left. When Kristoff tripped over her orthopedic shoe and lay sprawled against the linoleum floor, Sophie screeched in horror.
"Don't hurt him!" cried Sophie in defiance, pushing the old woman back. "He's my friend!" Instead of listening the old woman threw herself at Kristoff, who yelped and crawled for the shop exit. When he scrambled to his feet he charged out into the snow without even looking back for his shopping cart. Only when he was standing knee deep in the dunes of the sports field across the road did he stop for a breather. Soon a uniformed gentleman was trudging to his side. When the policeman stopped at Kristoff's feet he asked what he was running for. When Kristoff replied that an old lady had cornered him, the cop shot him a narrow eyed glance. Then his brows furrowed.
"You're the Chain Rattler aren't you?" he growled, grabbing Kristoff by the arm and pointing into his eyes. "The one that bothered those kids in the playground!"
Owning a cell phone really would have helped at this moment. But instead of struggling Kristoff shrugged in defeat and followed the policeman back inside the grocery store, where Sophie, her mother, and the livid old lady were standing in a huddle. The elderly woman clung to the hem of the girl's mother's coat like it was her lifeline, curling her lip when Kristoff met her glance. Every eye in the supermarket was boring into Kristoff's back. It was impossible not to blush. The red of his cheeks and the tilt of his head only seemed to solidify Kristoff's guilt.
For a moment Sophie looked on the escapade in horror. Then, abruptly, her expression softened and she tugged on the policeman's shirt, asking if they could chat outside, as she was getting sweaty. For her everyone moved out into the snow and spoke close, as she wandered into the car park ahead calling for Jack. Moments later a chill wind assailed the party, gritting their teeth.
"Son, did you assault that little girl?" asked the policeman, and Kristoff barked that he had not. Sophie's mother stood by in confused silence while the old woman blabbed about Kristoff's suspicious, lumbering gate, and the way Sophie had held onto him as they spoke. "He's got the kid wrapped around his grubby finger!" she barked. But when she opened her mouth to spout more derision, a flutter of snowflakes swept into her eyes and blinded her, making her gasp in shock. Another flutter blinded the policeman and Sophie's mother, and for a moment all three flailed like nervous doves until the drifts melted against the tips of their noses. When their eyes opened again they smiled. Then they laughed.
As the laughter bent the trio's backs and made them clutch their stomachs, Kristoff joined in loudly. Though he was sweating like hell he gave it his all. Behind him, Sophie grinned a strange, crooked smile.
"Well, let's all leave this in the past and go on home, right?" chuckled the policeman, wiping tears from his eyes as he returned to the beer store at the end of the strip mall. The elderly woman departed for her car with a wave as Sophie's mother called for her. When Kristoff returned to the store to pay for his food his hands shook so bad he dropped his wallet thrice. But he thanked his lucky stars as he walked the bags home. Something good must have been in that snow to make those people laugh like they did. It was almost like they turned into kids again.
"Jack Frost," snorted Kristoff to himself, looking into the sky. A sweep of cold air sent little flakes against his cheeks, and with a grin he blew a kiss at them. When he thought of the name the policeman had given him back at the field, though, his smile disappeared. "Chain rattler", he muttered with a scowl. Like a fucking pedophile. The one time Burgess gets proactive on sexual harassment, and they catch the wrong guy. For a moment Kris stopped and stared into the field of hazy white ahead of him, his vision shrouded by snowdrifts and smog. Then he looked all around with furrowed brows. He had to admit, if he saw a little kid glued to a guy buying boxed wine and jelly worms who told her to wait outside for him, he would have done the same thing as the old woman- especially if he'd already been seen skulking around the elementary school before spending time in the local asylum. It was just unbelievable how strange a situation he was in. Then his mind raced to Anna, and he wondered if she had kept the coat. The whole thing made Kristoff sigh, and with a snort he trudged for his front porch.
Two hours later he found himself sitting across from PJ eating a standard Sunday supper, while his mother admired her guest's brown skin and golden eyes. His black hair was especially windblown today, which seemed to be a plus. "Can I touch your spike?" barked Bulda, and Kristoff hid his face behind his fringe in embarrassment. Across the table, PJ's grin spread from ear to ear. "Of course you can, ma'am," he murmured coolly, tipping his head forward. With trembling fingers Bulda ran her hands across the largest tuft of hair on his scalp, so that the tips of her nails grazed the roots. "Feels good," encouraged PJ, and Bulda let out a long giggle. Cliff was not impressed. Under the table Kristoff nudged PJ's foot, and with a jolt the dark young man swept away from Bulda's hands as swiftly as she had moved to stroke him. As he continued with his food he cocked his head in an attractive way, and Kristoff snorted in derision.
When dinner was finished another game of monopoly struck up, and quite drunk, Bulda put on some music and danced with Cliff, who swept his hand dangerously close to her bum as they cascaded about the room. PJ watched the whole charade in grand amusement, even clapping along to the beat of the record as it blared Elvis Presley. Completely unimpressed and half wishing Anna could be there to see it; Kristoff had relegated himself to the back corner of the room to sulk. But soon his mother and father laughed, hollering for him to come over and dance with PJ. With a shrug Pitch Junior shuffled over and took him by the hand.
"Why the hell not?" he sighed, placing one hand in Kristoff's palm and the other around his shoulder as he pulled him to the center of the room. Without really knowing what he was doing, Kristoff shrugged and settled his hand on PJ's waist, and singing a chorus of "Old Man River", he swept PJ up in the air and they bounded over the couch together. Then Kristoff gave PJ a dip, before raising the man back to standing and spinning him around. After that PJ decided he'd had enough, and sat on the couch to get his bearings. Cake was passed around, and then goodbyes were said. When the trunk had been secured, PJ and Kristoff drove together into the night, the storage boxes behind rattling as they made their way towards the forest shack.
"I haven't had a night like that in over a thousand years," PJ murmured as he drove, opening the window to let the waning winter air beat against his cheeks. Beside him Kristoff scoffed and picked at the leather on the arm of the passenger seat. "It's just not the same with the nightmares," PJ continued in the driver's seat. "Of course with the way our relationship has been going..."
"You ever had a girlfriend, PJ?" asked Kris. In reply PJ's brows furrowed. "PJ?" he hissed, like the syllables were poisonous, and Kris laughed and nodded. "Pitch Junior."
"God, I'll have to think up another name to tell you," muttered the dark boy. Beside him Kris turned on the radio so that it blared Led Zeppelin. After several seconds PJ turned it down and addressed him.
"I was wondering how soon you could sign your contract?" he asked.
"I'll sign tonight," sighed Kristoff, howling 'When the Levee Breaks' to make up for the volume difference. As he thrust his head back and forth, PJ gave him a worried look.
"And I hate to ask you this so soon, but are you straight?"
"What?" barked Kristoff, turning the radio down, and PJ shrugged. "I want to make sure that you are straight."
"Yeah, I'm straight," responded Kristoff in discomfort, wondering what had happened to PJ to make him want a straight guy as an attendant.
"I only inquire because many times it is never completely so," PJ murmured with a cool glance, running his fingers through his billowing hair. "The fluidity of human sexuality constantly surprises me. Not being human myself, I can't speak for your population, but I'd even go so far as to say none that I have met have been completely one way or the other."
"Aw, you're human, too, PJ!" Kristoff encouraged, nudging the man in the shoulder. In return PJ gave him a grimace. "I hate that name."
"Too bad! When am I going to Norway?" asked Kris.
"Is next week alright? I have to sign your paperwork."
"Next week is great," responded Kris. But his brows furrowed. Anna was muddling his thoughts again, especially the vision of her tears. He hoped she still had that coat. He'd told his mother that if she ever came by she wasn't to give it back. But Bulda said she hadn't come around yet.
"So you'll sign the contract tonight?" confirmed PJ, and Kristoff nodded. With a replying chuckle, PJ gripped the wheel tighter and parked before the shack, helping Kris unload his things into one of the spare bedrooms as the sky began to dot with stars.