Caged: Retribution
Chapter 6
He had wanted to disappear. He tasted the salt, felt the high of pre-hypothermia, and knew how easy it would be to become part of the earth again. Just let go, he thought, you are barely human as it is. Soon as he closed his eyes and went into the sea, he saw his Delgado and there, in that cold water, he completely understood her.
You are the strongest person I know.
She was the palm tree in the hurricane, bending almost to the ground, swaying in the relentless wind and rain, fronds stretched up, even ripped off and flying, all the while never breaking, the solid trunk never moving. Like the palm tree, she was rooted in the ground during the storm and regained her full stature when the winds died. She'd survive him, she'd survive all of this. It left him in awe, his heart bursting with a mad desire to see her…
He scrambled for the water's surface and started for the shore, to whimpering Abram, to Téa. He swam and swam, except he seemed to get nowhere. He began to tire and slip under the water against his will, his body betraying him as usual. Well, SHIT. Now that he wanted to stand on his two feet on the sand, he was too fatigued to battle the sea's pull. Fucking fates, man! He felt a give, a crack in his sudden resolve. His want of Téa got consumed by the comfort of her survivability. She was a goddamn palm tree. The deep called him and he said, okay, I give up. Ya' fuckin' WIN.
But then the pull changed. He felt firm hands on his feet, arms wrapping around his thighs, grabbing at his waist now, his shoulders… a strong body flush to his. He opened his eyes in the moonlit water and saw dark brown haunted eyes and parted lips...
I will not die.
And in that moment, he knew the opposite to be true. Rico would die if Todd left him behind. He would slip into Havana's dark current and disappear. If not in body, then most certainly in soul. Unlike Téa, he would not survive the hurricane.
He then realized he was dealing with an undertow… a riptide where the water beneath the surface could drown the strongest swimmers unless they knew the mechanics of the thing. Swim to the side, swim to the side… that's what he heard. Memories of a conversation with a California frat brother exploded to the forefront, a blond long-haired dude with a permanently sunburned nose and freckles who'd been telling all these midwestern boys the trials and tribulations of coastal life…
The rip will kill you, bro. Water under the water that works against you. Top going in one direction, inside going in another. You gotta swim out of it, to the side, not the shore. Then ride the waves in. Safe and sound. I know, dude… sounds like… counter-intuitive.
So yeah, swim to the side! Be like… counter-intuitive! He turned parallel to the beach and swam towards the distant lighthouse, moving away from the strong hidden current. He had to dig deep because he was weak from the riptide and the cold and the emotional war. But he was determined. His lungs squeezed tight and he kept breathing in spray and spitting out salt, swallowing a ton of water anyway. Abram followed him, running in the surf and meeting Todd when he finally tore out of the water. He promptly fell onto the sand on hands and knees, shaking from exhaustion and puking the Caribbean sea. The waves crashed behind him now, knocking him flat on his belly, foamy whitewater washing up around him. Abram pulled at his hair, teeth on his arm, loose jaw so he'd not pierce skin, pulling and growling and whimpering.
"Got it, okay, all good, I'm okay, buddy," he'd rasped, throat raw from the seawater. He crawled out, falling once, then getting to his feet at last. Abram jumped at his side, re-orienting Todd. He was shivering like a bitch and followed his dog until he reached his clothes. Collapsed on his ass and then fell onto his back, eyes on cracked clouds. Abram lay warm and heavy on him because the dog thought Todd was in seizure mode and needed protection. He barked and howled. Todd reached for him and petted him roughly, "Hey, hey… I'm just lying here, I'm fine, shut the fuck up. Don't need people finding me naked on the beach." He chuckled and kept rubbing the puppy's thick body, letting him lick his face. "Gotta make sure Rico's at the house, yeah? Let's do that."
Yeah, so he nearly got killed trying to come home, nearly died trying not to sink. But he was still disoriented. He should have headed east to the city. Instead, he headed west. When Todd finally looked up, wondering why it was taking so long to get to the lights and sounds of Havana, he'd come to a full stop at Pedro Moreno's beach house. He stood outside, able to see the downstairs living room from the beach-side camino, see it HD-clear because it was midnight black and there weren't any street lights. Abram was antsy now. Todd stared for a long time at Pedro Moreno ranting at a seated Manuel Caro. Caro had his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and Pedro was standing over him. Caro wore the same guayabera from earlier in the day. Whatever was happening was intense, the walls too thick to let him hear the words, the waves too noisy. He stared mostly at Pedro.
Pedro… Pedro with his arms out, ready to give his life to his son, be a father, give him a home if he didn't have one anymore. Pedro... who was a fucking saint in comparison to Caro. Well... he did set the shit up. But certainly, he was not cut from the same cloth. But has he been redeemed? What say you, Pedro Moreno?
He stared blankly as the conflict continued but startled when Pedro leaned back suddenly and kicked the shit out of Caro, making the chair and Caro fall backwards. Todd shut his eyes to the violence, knowing the distance he felt was temporary. He licked his dry lips and opened his eyes to the second-story balcony.
Gloria was standing at the railing watching him. She wore a long dress she often wore as a nightgown under a terry robe. He remembered how easily it all came off. He was instantly aware of how cold he was. It made him want to get in bed with her, feel her arms around him, like they had so many times. He wanted her sexual heat because it had always been effective at warming him, at bringing him back to humanness… but his picture of it… it wasn't HER warmth he wanted.
He saw Téa.
Aliveness, two bodies intertwined, breathing hard, cleaving to midnight moments before the sun comes up and the hell starts again. Mi vida, mi amor.
He shook his head like Abram did, pushing her out of his mind because he didn't trust her yet despite wanting her like he wanted air. Gloria called for him, a soft sound, a gentle one. "Blanco…," she said. There was a plea in it. He gazed at the dog and left the house's shadows. Boots scraped the dirt road and he eyed the city lights ahead of him, steps guided by the bright moon above tearing through the clouds.
The club was warm, smoky, noisy, and hopping with people Rico knew. He drank himself into a light-headed bliss that let him forget things. He danced close with a husky man, pure Cubano. Yanko had a wife at home, children, flew the Cuban flag and passionately supported Castro and his beliefs… except here in the wee hours of the night, here, he could just be who he was, be how he was born. The man was thick and hairy and sweaty and wore a flowery shirt that didn't fit right. He made Rico smile with his self-deprecating comments…
You are too good for me.
My god, you are beautiful, too beautiful for a worker like me.
You feel good, I hope I don't crush you.
Did I step on you? My clumsy feet are too big.
My hands are too fat to hold you proper.
Why are you dancing with me, guapo?
Rico grinned and said, "You make me feel light on my feet!"
The man laughed heartily and grabbed Rico tighter to his massive chest, the two swinging around and bending and moving to the beat. Rico resisted the eager looks of other men on the dance floor. He hadn't been working for a while. Until tonight. He smiled and gazed at Yanko. Silently offering himself.
"My sweet boy, I wish I had money for you. Do we have to stop dancing?"
"You don't need money to dance. To make me smile at you. Keep up that swing!"
He had napped in the pimp's house because all his stuff was there. The four-story brothel was just the same as when he left it months ago. His single cot-like bed in Laura's room on the fourth floor was untouched, his things stuffed under it, as well as stuffed into a chest next to it. As if he never left. As if he was always going to return. All the workers lived in these tiny rooms with the beds and wooden chests. Two workers to a room. The second floor had bigger rooms with bigger beds for clients only. The third floor had the special rooms for the people into bondage games. The bathroom there, the spacious bathroom with the tiled seats in the open shower… well, that was for Rico and others like him.
The humiliation games.
He had climbed the stairs and lay on his bed. Slept the morning away. When he woke, he was confused, forgetting he'd come back to the brothel. He collapsed once more and Laura came into the room, sitting on her own bed. She was a small woman and wore nothing but red to match her golden-red hair. Always dangling earrings. She asked, "Are you back, hermanito? Your customers miss you. Especially Montez."
"Who is shitting on him now?"
"Tumelo, but you know he is not as good as you. You use words the customers want. You respond the way they like."
The reality of his return brought a rush of deep pain and Rico had to wipe his face of tears, turning to the wall, lying on his side. Laura moved to his bed, sitting. She rubbed his back and sighed. "They always say they love you. They make promises. The love feels so real. But they are all the same. They leave you at the end because we are whores, Rico."
"I didn't believe him, I never did…"
"Then why are you crying, chico?"
"Because I'm stupid."
How many men had told him the same words his lion had told him? How many had promised to save him? Too many to count. Even in a bed next to his dead five-year old brother Hilario, the killer had caressed Rico's face and said how special he was, how godly, how far above his brother, which was why Hilario died and Rico didn't. I will come back for you, the man had said, I will not abandon you to this Caro. You are an angel! I love you! Even the killer made such unfulfilled promises.
I will not abandon you.
I will not die.
I will not abandon you.
I will not die.
He would not die if he worked for Gavín again. He hung with his friends all afternoon. It had felt good, really, like family. He had opened the old wooden chest next to his bed as rain fell in the late afternoon and touched his pencils, his pens, his paints and notebooks. He once dreamed of travelling to New York to become a real artist. He had dreams of the city and it felt so real, so familiar, the scents and the noise and the English and the people. Fast, fast, everyone moved so fast in his dreams. He'd given it up though. He would just continue his midnight painting of Havana.
Nobody could touch his work, high up in those spaces… there, he was untouched. He closed the chest.
His pimp had soon darkened the door. Gave Rico the usual terms and he agreed. 60% to the pimp, 40% to the whore less expenses for supplies. A room, a bed, and doctor visits were covered. At the end, Gavín had yanked Rico up by the shirt and huffed in his face, his breath stinking of cigars and stomach acid, "I knew you would be back. He figured out you were nothing special, eh? Nothing but a whore." Dropped him hard and laughed all the way down the stairs, laughed until Rico couldn't hear him anymore.
Come outside, Rico… qué guapo, qué rico… come kiss me outside.
Yanko, the circus bear, had been pushed to the side and another man got into his place. An old client of Rico's, Lorenzo. They danced close and Rico turned his face because the man smelled like garlic and sweat with no soap or cologne to lessen the pungency. No sweetness, no modesty, no soul to counter the bad. Rico gazed regretfully at Yanko. Lorenzo kissed Rico's neck and ran hands up his legs, grabbing his ass in the tight red pants in honor of Laura and his re-entry into la vida de discoteca, saying, "How handsome you are, hombre… come outside with me. God, you have a great ass. Let's fuck in the back like we used to… I have cash today, enough for a feast…"
The man smiled, pretty teeth flashing, his soft touch assuring at least. He liked straight fucking, he used condoms, and always came fast when he touched Rico's cock…
Fuck… fuck… reluctant pleasure in those light eyes glancing down… lemme see you come.
Rico shuddered and forced a smile and said, of course. The man had cash and Gavín would be expecting money in the morning so he might as well as get to it. They slipped towards the back of the club, Rico seeing the circus bear's sad eyes. Rico offered a silent promise to be back. He'd get a kiss, yeah? Kisses are free.
I love you, okay? Not going to say it again. I will not abandon you.
Rico squeezed shut his eyes, long enough to shut thoughts down and get back to work. He let Lorenzo lead him into the cool night, the alley empty, the moon breaking through the clouds. He did not wonder if Blanco was looking for him. El León would be with Téa tonight, in her hotel room. Tell me not to be afraid. He rubbed his chest, the way Blanco rubbed those bullet wounds. He must be crazy to feel pain the way Blanco did. He'd never been shot and yet the burn ripped into him hotter, deeper, with every step into the darkness, with every squeeze of Lorenzo's sweaty hand.
How can I tell you not to be afraid, mí león, when I am terrified of every day, terrified that this life is all I have? That there will always be another Gavín, another customer, another moonless night. That Caro will forever be inside of me, like poison, like tainted blood, in a way that even you cannot ever comprehend.
They reached a place down the alley where there were large crates and boxes and metal containers which created all kinds of cubbies for illicit connections. The Maze, el Laberinto, home to whores and perverts. Lorenzo gently pushed him into one of the bleaker spaces and when Rico turned, he was looking at a retreating client. A face changed and pained. Lorenzo was backing out, heading back to the open air.
"I hope you forgive me, Rico."
Abram collapsed on the bedroom floor of Sylvia's, dead beat from their long walk, snoring already. Todd eyed the clock on the side table. A little after one in the morning. Where the fuck was Rico? All his shit was still here except for one of his bags… no, wait. There was a pile of clean clothes, Todd's clothes only, a pile that had been gone through, the clothes half folded and spread about. As if Rico had pulled his own laundry out of the stack. He'd taken the larger messenger bag… like he left with all he could carry.
From a hallway telephone, Todd called Téa's room at her hotel. Maybe Rico had gone to her. Her voice sounded sleepy as she sniffled a scratchy, "Bueno?"
He closed his eyes at hearing her voice and rubbed the phone against his head. Her voice… god, how it cut him. In it, he saw her bend to him in the storm he brought her. He asked thickly, "Do you have Rico with you?"
She was quiet some seconds and then said in her serious tone, "No… I'm sorry. He left again?"
Bend, bend, bend...
"Yeah."
"What did you do? You must have been as bad to him as you were to me and Jed. Please tell me you didn't hurt him."
Fronds flying and tearing away… lemme see you run in the rain.
He didn't answer for some moments, sighing heavily. "I was rude."
It was her turn to be quiet long beats. "Do you want me to send Jed to help you search for him?"
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. He'll help you."
"He hates me. As he should."
"He cannot hate you - he knows you, you're his father. Rolon will go, too."
Stretch upwards to the light, stand tall, reaching, reaching. You are a fucking palm tree.
He resisted the impulse to ask if Rolon was right next to her. "No… I'm good. Go back to sleep."
He said a choked goodbye and went back to the bedroom. Had to end the call before the distance in his head faded and he started to feel the day and the losses and the fear and the horror of Caro…. before the raw desire for Delgado's strength and understanding love and patience pummeled him. Before he got crazy all over again about Rolon.
It would be easy to abandon Rico for her at the moment. To test out his limits of trust.
He would do it, he'd go running to that fucking hotel room, throw Rolon out… but for the feel of Rico on his legs in the sea, but for seeing those eyes in the ocean as the rip tried to pull him back out. He would go to her room and get in her bed and hold her to him and try trusting her… but for hearing Rico whisper in his ear, "I will not die."
"God fucking DAMNIT!" He cleared the top of the dresser, clothes and porcelain tea set from England flying, pretty pink and blue and ivory china in pieces. Unfixable. Abram popped his head up. Flopped back down when he saw Todd settle at the bed and ask the empty space, "Where are you, mari?"
He looked around the room, not sure his next step. Noticed a lone notebook on the bed, near the pillow. He picked it up. Pencil drawings. Sketches. Good ones of the city, of people. He then came across awfully familiar eyes. His own. Turned the pages slower, finding his mouth, his nose, his eyes and cheeks… the scar... oh my fucking god. The drawings were of Todd... pretty goddamn specific… of his naked muscled body on the linen-draped bed at the beach house. Sprawled. Scars, tattoos, long messed hair, a sleeping cock in a patch of wildness. A lot of time went into the drawing. Proved how unconscious Todd was. How dead to the world. He had no idea that Rico was this good… but there was something else in the drawings.
Todd found his heart aching…
I love you, okay? Not going to say it again.
Coño, don't fucking SAY that. I don't even KNOW what this IS. And if I don't, YOU don't.
Well, if this picture wasn't love… oh fucking HELL. Todd ran a hand through his tightened hair…then palmed his lips as he bit his tongue. Todd hated pictures of himself, finding them ugly, possessed, dark with history. Even the ones where he was happy, he could see the hate, the potential for destruction. Always flipped them over or glanced away or hid them. But these, these careful drawings in silvery-black... a sound came from his throat… a whimper maybe. These were beautiful. His eyes burned with unshed tears. Rico saw beauty in Todd, in his lion... like an undercurrent, a riptide beneath the rough waters. He always thought Téa was crazy to ever say he was beautiful… and here now was this person, this man…
Men hated Todd with good reason… but it seemed they'd hated him forever. Barring precious few, men only brought violence to him. Abuse. He didn't count his children in this grand judgment. Reese was still a baby and Jed… well, even Jed made sure to get his licks in. He closed his eyes and he could explain well enough in his head why Rico's touches were so goddamn important to him. Their gentleness… the cautiousness… the only seeming motivation to bring Todd pleasure and… safety.
Do not be afraid… I will not hurt you.
He didn't have words for it. Only sensations, images, a letting-go...
Fuckin' Rico.
Suddenly, visions of Brandy hit him. The things she did when she felt alone, when she felt Todd had abandoned her. She did dangerous things because pain made her feel alive. Rico doesn't like pain, he likes…
FUCK.
Todd stormed to the remaining bag… searching for the blue scarf Rico thought Todd didn't know about. He threw the shit out and found nothing… searched the drawers… under the bed, looked through the pile of clothes Sylvia had washed.
NOTHING. Fucking HELL.
He stormed down the stairs, leaving the dog. He blew out the back door and hit the streets. He wouldn't have a seizure again, this he knew. Abram was good protection but he didn't need it. Todd was running on pure adrenaline, pure fear. There was so much to be afraid of.
He searched as he walked, every side street, every alley. Realized fast the impossibility of the effort. Needle in a goddamn haystack. The man could be anywhere. The time of night said he'd be inside. Hotels. A client's home. Gavín's brothel. The bathrooms of clubs. If so, Rico would be lost and Todd couldn't bear it. But what could he do? Maybe pray a little. Maybe pray to the fucking GODS that Rico did not have the self-destructive gene that Brandy had.
The cold bit at him and he chewed on his lip as he searched the surrounding red-light district. He wouldn't go back to Sylvia's until he gave the accessible places a shot.
He checked a couple of clubs and didn't see him. He finally got to Rico's favorite place in recent times, the one where he said his clients tended to be. The music was loud, rumbling. Salsa music that Téa liked. He eyed the crowd. The place was still predominantly gay. See, in Havana, gay clubs aren't exactly legal so they tend to bounce around. This one wouldn't last much longer. The crowd would find another place to make their own for a spell. Then move on again. He walked through the throng of people, ignoring all the curious eyes on him. People assumed he was on the prowl. Though looking like a swamp monster he felt, he guessed they were thinking the prowl was hopeless. Nobody dared come up to him or hold his gaze. Checked the bathroom first, listened for Rico… looked for his shoes beneath stall doors… nothing. He hit the main floor again.
He growled when he spied Rico's pimp, Gavín, in prime real estate… the corner that allowed him visibility of the entire place. He sat like a fat cow, admiring his whores who were on the dance floor, making contacts. Glaring like the badass he was, Todd walked up to him and the man wasted no time in clambering to his feet. He held a knife in his hand that Todd almost laughed aloud at.
"You come near me and I will kill you!"
"You will be dead before you even get a chance."
"What do you want, you bastard?"
"Rico. Where is he?"
The man went from defense to shit-eating grin, realizing the monster hadn't thrown Rico out, but rather had misplaced his toy. Or better, the toy had run off. He laughed, "Rico has chosen to stay a whore rather than stay with you? Delightful!"
"Where is he?"
"And why would I ever tell you that? After what you did to me, to him?! Lucky boy, getting free of-"
Todd had no patience. He grabbed the man by the throat and bashed him against the brick wall hard enough to get Gavín to gasp because the wind got knocked out of him. So did the knife. Todd kicked it away. People jumped at the commotion and the roar of the crowd lessened, but the music continued to bang away.
"Where… is… Rico?" There was guilt in Gavín's brown eyes, dead-on guilt. Todd got close to the man's face and spat, "I will tear your throat out. I will rip your tiny dick off and eat it in front of all these people."
"You will go to jail!"
"No, I won't. Everyone in here knows you're a piece of SHIT. They will fucking worship me."
Gavín glanced around and there was no doubt, people were laughing at his predicament. He shuddered and glowered. Jutted his chin out. "You are too late. He is probably dead already."
Todd dropped him like a hot potato, eyes wide and stunned. Gavín fell to the floor and then laughed and laughed, an ugly sound, harsh and competing with the music, his face an even uglier mask.
From the floor, Gavín said, "You will find his body in the alley two or three streets over. Lying with the rest of the trash. Nobody cares about him. People will have watched the killing and will have done nothing. Because he is… nothing. Not worth even a hundred dollars. They wanted payback for you taking him out of rotation. You stupid, stupid bastard."
Todd stood over him, his face creased with disgust… hate… and asked, "Who took him?"
"His brothers."
Todd moved to leave, but then… at the last minute, just as Gavín was trying to get back up, Todd turned back and kicked him in the mouth with his hard… black… boot. Held on to the wall and kicked Gavín beyond bloody, swearing under his breath, vowing to make sure Rico never crossed paths with this motherfucker, kicked until the bouncers were holding him back. They had no sympathy because it was exactly as Todd had stated, everybody hated the ugly pimp, but control had to be made.
"Come on, Americano! He is not worth it!"
Held by the two massive men, Todd managed to hawk and spit thickly on the pimp who groaned on the floor and was being fully mocked by the crowd. The bouncers just pulled, dragging Todd outside and tossing him as soon as they hit air. They clearly had no bitterness because they were gentle with him, relatively speaking. Todd stood tall, catching his breath. Rasped in English, "I am looking for Rico… Rico Macias. Where is he? That bastard said he was already dead...two streets away?"
The two men glanced at each other, bad looks on their faces,one saying, "He is talking about the Maze, the back street where the whores go to do their business… I saw him leave with a customer. That way." He pointed in the easterly direction. "The Maze, I am sure of it. I am sorry, I hope that fucking Gavín is wrong, but hombre… people die in the Maze because police don't patrol it."
Todd thanked them and just booked it. Behind the club, he followed the alley. He wasn't sure where this maze was… Men and women hustled past him. Prostitutes. He grabbed one, "Hey… where is the Maze?" The man smiled, a tongue ghosting his lips. He got close to Todd…
"What do you want in the Maze?"
"Rico Macias. I am looking for him."
The man snorted, pulling out of Todd's grasp. "So you like pretty men, yeah? You like them to piss on you. I do that good… I do anything Rico does, only better, my friend."
It took a ton of self-control to not punch this guy, just because… "No… no…. just tell me where the Maze is."
The man pointed down the alley, "Keep walking. You cannot miss the ship containers." He quicklydisappeared.
Todd walked deeper into the darkness, down another block further into the alley. The environment changed. He soon realized he was in the Maze, el Laberinto. It was a strange part of Havana he'd never seen before… kind of like the docks back in PA without the water. Large metal containers all over, crates, boxes. And noise. An indecipherable hum of human noise. Voices. Grunts. All just beneath the city's vibrations, the cars, the breeze through buildings, trees and shrubs. All beneath the ocean's background roar. He stepped along the watery cobbled street, wet still from the rain, from drains and unchecked faucets. Trash lay everywhere. He saw why the place was called the Maze. There were tens of hidden spots where people met to fuck. To do the shit people did when nobody was watching unless they wanted to be watched by someone who wanted to watch. The containers seemed abandoned, almost as if they were purposefully set up just to create these empty dark hidden spaces.
He ignored the undulating couples. Ignored the voyeurs. And then he stopped. Eyes roving all around him. Ahead, a woman gasped. She glanced at Todd and split. He followed to where she had been standing only minutes heart raced. God… please…
Shit, shit, shit…
This was where the woman had run from. He looked into the dark cubby...
Saw the soles of leather shoes, toes up. Black pants on a person. God, please… Jesus… A body covered by newspaper and boxes and stuffed into shadows. He couldn't breathe as he hit the ground, moving fast as he tore away the coverings, but then fell back at the sight of the broken man, twisted, bloody. A ruddy moon face with lifeless eyes staring up into the cloud-covered sky.
It wasn't Rico.
His heart pounded and he felt a rush of relief but… so what? Rico was still not here. Where was he? In some other hidden space?
"Fuck," he groaned. Then shouted, "FUCK!" Whoever the man was, he fought hard. His knuckles were bloody, hands maybe even broken. His large chest was covered in blood, the multi-colored flowers of his shirt distorted, lost in the blackened-red. The body was just at the edge of cold. Todd moved back even further, crab-crawling. His boots slipped and he caught himself. The wetness he was in wasn't water… it was a viscous pool of blood.
He heard something behind him and turned his head. A sniffle in a separate and deeper part of the cubby, where hardly any light reached, not moonlight or streetlights… Todd saw red pants… knees up, arms tight around his legs. The clouds shifted and light revealed Rico. He lifted his head, eyes on Todd. His face was darkened, bruises maybe, a swollen cut lip. His hands were bloody, knuckles almost as damaged as the dead man's. The knees on his pants were darker than the rest. Blood. A heavy worn look cut across his face. In this moment, he'd gone from twenty-five to forty-five.
"Rico… thank god-"
"My circus bear…" His face broke up in raw emotion, tears suddenly flowing, his heart there… on the outside of him. "He did not have money, so he had to give me up. He followed me. I didn't know my brothers were waiting. The bear… he fought like a lion! He broke my one brother and scared the other one off but not before he got stabbed. He saved me." He put his head down and sobbed quietly, the agony palpable. But then… "He saved me FOR WHAT?! He lost his family… FOR WHAT?! So I could be a whore another fucking DAY?! To give Gavín more money?! FOR WHAT DID HE DIE?! He was a good man!"
Todd reached for Rico but no… Rico kicked at him, mewled like a wild animal, and finally whipped his fists at him, "You stay away from me! You stay away…" Todd managed to drag him out of the dark space but couldn't keep him in his arms. Rico broke free and sobbed, his forehead and palms on the ground, on his knees. He then crawled in the blood to the big man and whimpered, the sound aching and lonely, kept kissing the man's face as he moaned, "Lo siento… lo siento… lo siento… yo no sabía, mí amigo… besos son libres ..."
Kisses are free.
A woman in red came running, huffing, "Rico... oh Rico… mí pobre… get out of here… the police are coming. They will take care of him. Go, go, go…hurry!"
Getting to his feet, Todd gently pulled Rico, "Come on, mari… ven conmigo." Rico resisted, kept up his agonized sobbing. Todd pulled at him more, whispering, "Come on… come on… he did right by you. Let's go, mari…" Rico finally shifted. He stood and walked slowly, haltingly, out of the cubby. Out of the maze. He was injured, too. Hunched in pain. His eyes stayed down. He walked inches away from Todd without a plan. Todd was following him, but then he realized Rico was following HIM. Todd decided to make his way to Sylvia's casita. He'd call Raquel first thing. Todd couldn't help it… he glanced down Rico's body, worried he'd been raped. No torn clothes, though. It just looked like he'd been in a major brawl. Those fuckers… his brothers… they meant to kill Rico. The moon-faced man had saved his life.
Todd grunted… adding names to his growing list, actual names he'd get later. Brothers.
Rico didn't object when they reached the house. Todd walked Rico through the door, into the kitchen. Abram had raced down the stairs, anxious and rubbing his body against Rico's legs. Rico stood silently, just standing there, tears rolling down his face, some slipping down his neck into his open shirt. They rolled and rolled…
"Come to the bath, mari. Let me see what they did to you."
"Why do you care?" His voice was broken, choked.
Todd did not want to insult him by saying words that were lies, that denied his conduct in the morning. "Because it's the right thing to do." He settled on that. He took Rico's arm and led him upstairs to the bathroom, Abram sitting outside in the hall, keeping guard.
He turned the water on. Made it hot. Glanced at Rico, who was now visibly shaking. He was in shock probably and needed the warmth. He needed to wash away the horrible night. And yeah, probably needed to wash the morning away, too. Todd carefully unbuttoned the black shirt Rico wore. When he pushed it off Rico's shoulders, Todd grimaced… the ribs, his torso, his sides… had blossomed into deep bruises, storm clouds in a creamy-mocha sky. And in it was blood that had leaked through his clothes. The bear's blood. All these clothes would have to be burned or bleached and tossed. Todd had to breathe a moment to quell the rising anger. He bit down on his teeth, muscles shaking. Control… control… He urged Rico to sit on the edge of the tub.
He did, like a child. Complying easily.
Todd dropped down and took off the leather shoes and thin black socks. Club shoes. Scuffed from countless nights dancing with the Havana crowd. Still being careful, Todd unzipped the red leather-like pants. He looked up, Rico not reacting, more evidence he wasn't raped. He urged him back to his feet. Rico had not worn briefs… and right away as the pants slipped down, he saw swollen testicles, most likely where he'd been kicked. Todd grunted beneath his breath. Assholes knew Rico was a fighter… so they'd tried to neutralize him. Todd tried to keep the hate to a minimum but it was fucking hard to do. Rico's legs were bruised all over. He'd been kicked repeatedly while down. He whimpered at moving. When he turned to get into the tub… those tears started again. Todd took a quick glance and saw no damage to his backside other than faint bruising. Praised the gods Rico was spared that additional trauma.
Taking a washcloth, Todd soaped it and slowly, carefully washed Rico's body. His friend didn't look him in the eyes, just cried quietly. As if the tears came from an endless supply. Todd rinsed the towel and cleaned Rico's face, slowly, slowly…
"I am sorry for the circus bear," he said. "He was a warrior. His hands… he fought hard. I've seen that kind of damage in prison. He had something to protect and I'm thinking he wasn't just protecting himself. He was protecting you. You were worth it to him. The fact that you survived… means he didn't die for nothing."
Rico shut his eyes and turned away. Held his hand tightly to his face, trying to shutter the pain. "He should be home with his family," he said.
"He decided his family could live without him. He took the risk. He must have seen your brothers attacking you?"
"He came rushing in… like a lion." His voice broke and pressed the back of his hand to his lips, sobbing.
Todd repeated quietly, "You were worth the risk to him." Long moments passed, Todd just resting on the side of the tub. When Rico calmed, Todd tilted his head, asked, "Was he a client?"
"No. He was just a man I danced with sometimes. He never had money." He whispered the last part, regret and shame lacing his words. Only now did he look directly at Todd. A voice thick with accusation. "Why are you doing this? Why are you not with Téa?"
In Spanish, Todd said, "I needed to find you. To make sure you were safe."
Rico rolled his eyes, smirking bitterly. "You did not care about my safety this morning."
Todd briefly closed his eyes, then gazed darkly at the blood-tinted water. Said softly, "I always care… but my methods are not always right. I needed to see Elon's house today and I needed all of you gone, and… I was just fucked-up in my head. I am sorry… stupid and pointless that is to say. I hate that fucking word but it's all I have. And this. I'm here, okay?"
After a moment of Rico glaring at him, clearly not wanting to talk about what Todd found at the house… Rico grumbled, "It is my turn to say… fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you."
Todd didn't answer. He had every Spanish-accented fuck-you coming to him that Rico could muster. Just the way he deserved those bullets. He ran the washcloth down Rico's wrecked body once more. Rico groaned at the pain and the sound tore through Todd. He kept the hate down, though. Rico did not need it. He needed kindness, gentleness. Todd picked up Rico's hand and washed the blood from it, soothed the cuts. Cleaned the nails… sure, the police would have been able to get the skin and blood beneath but Rico would never report the assault. This was probably one in a hundred over the years, Todd's own beating of Rico included, he reminded himself, sick at the thought. The bath proceeded without any more talking. Todd got him into the bed, naked because Rico didn't want to bother. Abram immediately got on the bed and burrowed against him.
"God, dog," Todd muttered, "you switch loyalties like socks." He smiled and rubbed his snout, letting him know he was doing a good job at soothing loved ones who needed it.
The sunlight was threatening to end the night out the closed windows. Todd took a fast shower, washing the night and day off him, the sandy salty sea off his skin. Brushed teeth, brushed his hair. Jesus, he looked a nightmare even showered. He needed a cut and a shave. Business was creeping into his head… plans… he shoved it all away. Put on boxer briefs and stalked the hallway, feet hitting the floor hard. That rage… it was coursing through him… retribution… retribution… but it was a low simmer because he was still post-seizure… but more, because he had greater business to attend.
He entered the bedroom and Rico hadn't moved since before Todd left. He wasn't asleep though. Just staring into nothingness. Eyes puffy from grief. Todd sat at the dresser, swinging his feet up. Knees up. Fingertips slid in the condensation on the cold window panes, as he checked Rico every so often. Man lay like a mummy under the covers, every bump and dip of his body visible beneath the heavy white blanket. Todd cracked open the window and lit up a cigarette. Tasted good. He missed heroin. Drifted a bit in the dream of it. Glad though not to be feeling withdrawal symptoms. Guessed he hadn't used enough to trigger full-on dependence. Guessed the illness was more like a reaction to the black tar. Like his body rejecting it.
The two finally looked at each other.
Rico said, "Can you come into bed?" The words cracked at the end and he breathed in hard to stop the tears. Todd gazed some at Rico, then tossed the cigarette and shut the window. The room by now had the bluish iridescence of night before morning. He slid off the dresser. The broken tea set among the clothes were on the floor. Sylvia was gonna be pissed because it wasn't the only destroyed tea set - Rico had busted the one in the other room. Fuckin' brilliant.
He got under the covers. Considered how to hold Rico, if he even should. If the man even wanted it. Fuck you, fuck you. He had already done enough, yeah? He didn't want to hurt him, his body was so bruised and so was his heart. The morning, the night…
Rico rolled over anyway and draped himself over Todd who sighed and relaxed, wrapping an arm tentatively around Rico as he laid his head on his shoulder. Rico slid his heavy bent leg up and rested it securely. He was warm. The position felt strangely comfortable, that same feeling like it was natural, like he and Rico had been doing this forever. Strangely peaceful. Todd felt the hate lessen, like a cooling kettle.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "For your brothers being assholes… for the circus bear. What was his name?"
"Yanko…" Rico buried his face in Todd's neck, wetness suddenly there again. His shoulders shook with strangled sobbing. It took a while for him to stop. He lay silently another long while. He caressed the Catholic medal he'd given Todd and asked, "What are we, Blanco? I feel like I need to know more. Why you came for me."
In some ways, Todd wondered if maybe he needed to figure it out, too. Téa seemed to have it all squared away. Sexual fluidity. Made him think of water, the ocean. How it flowed over the sand, shaping and reshaping, tearing down and building back up. Constant change. That and... love. But that was only HIM. What were THEY? He wanted Téa too much right now to think deeply on this. He wanted her to come up the stairs. He wanted her to get on top of him. He wanted to test that trust again.
Mí vida, mí amor…
He grunted, "Fuck if I know. We are just… whatever the fuck we are. No point trying to name it, or figure it out, definitely not now. But whatever it is… what you are NOT… is ever working for Gavín or any other fucking pimp again. You are never going to charge another person for sex again. You are going to chase LOVE, Rico… chase a real fucking LIFE. Do you get me? Do you understand? I don't care where the FUCK we end up. You are a goddamn artist… you have some real fuckin' talent… and SHIT-"
He shut up because Rico put fingers on his lips. "You saw the drawings."
"Yeah. They were good. Fucking GOOD."
Rico lifted himself up, his knee hitting the mattress on the other side of Todd. He studied his face, light eyes perpetually full of hurt, the scar on his cheek that cut deeply, the barest of lines in his fair skin… the too-heavy beard and shadowing. He gently kissed him, then sighed, "I left the book for you." He kissed softened lips again, pressed a bruised hand firmly on Todd's neck, laying his body heavily on those defined muscles he had drawn. Huddled into heat. Tears rolled down his face and he said, "I wanted you to see how beautiful you are. Because I did not plan to see you again. Ever."
Todd's own eyes moistened with a kind of sourceless sorrow, laying a hand on Rico's back, fingers on his cheek. Whispered, "I did. I saw exactly that."
"Let me hide inside of you, león," Rico murmured, his voice low and breathy. "Let me forget today… tomorrow…" He kissed harder. Held the back of Todd's neck with more strength. He moved his body despite the pain, because of the pain.
Todd immediately reacted to being the object of Rico's intense affection that marked their undefined existence… his breathing changed… a shudder rolled through him... he cursed in his head… he tried to resist but then didn't. Couldn't. He kissed right back, feeling the swollen lip, tasting blood and tears and Rico's soft tongue. He dug into a strong shoulder, slowly pulled dark hair into his fist as the kiss intensified. Found himself gripping Rico with his legs.
Kisses are free.
"Fuck," he huffed. Rico shushed him with another needy wet salted kiss, deeper, his mouth open and demanding. Their bodies moved against the other in slow oceanic waves. Rico then reached a hand downwards, grasping Todd's thigh with always-surprising strength, a firmness he tended to restrain. He adjusted himself further, trying to get Todd to wrap his leg around him… shifting his hips despite the tender goods… Todd's knee being urged back, the position all of a sudden wildly suggestive of a different sort of sex and Todd started shaking, groaning, his voice strained, "Oh god…"
Panic spread like wildfire as he grabbed Rico by the throat to stop him, to cut off the movement. Rico mistook it for passion though, continuing to rhythmically rub his hardness down beneath Todd's brief-covered scrotum, the tip hitting his ass directly, a different act from the norm, for them. Caro exploded in Todd's head at the feel, at the gentle yet insistent push of Rico, shouts about angelic noise… how Todd could climax without being touched… god, god, god… if a man fucked him like a swan and he choked, "No… no, Rico..." and YET...oh GOD and YET, he was achingly hard and his belly was tight and so fast he wanted to get places. He wanted to come… he slid his hand between their bodies and fisted his own cock through his briefs…
Jesus fucking CHRIST.
Fear screamed louder than anything his body wanted though and he finally grabbed hold of Rico by the arms, pressing far harder than maybe necessary. Shot out, "Stop! Just… stop, fuck… just… cool it..." Rico was breathing just as fast, the two working to catch their breaths, Todd's terror-filled eyes stayed on Rico's whose own were full of stunned pain. Oblivious.
"Did I hurt you? What is wrong?"
"You're worried about ME? God, sorry… sorry…nothing, no, let's just...not, yeah? I-I-I don't want to hurt you anymore, mari. I'm afraid..." He didn't want to say that images were fighting to get to him, splashing up at him, strangling him from the inside, so he focused on his fingers on Rico's arm, the indentation into his flesh. Eyes on linens. Eyes on the window… here… here… he was in Havana… he was in Sylvia's place. Okay, okay… FUCK... okay.
"I don't care if you hurt me… I want to feel you, I need to feel you… whatever we are, what we are not..."
"God, I know… god, I fucking KNOW." And he did. He knew how it was to want to escape through sex. He constantly sought escape with Téa like that. Mi vida… mí amor…Todd rested back against the pillow, tears blurring his view. He closed his arms tight around Rico, tight, tight, kissing his head over and over, hair smelling of sweat and the club and cigarettes against the soaped skin. "I know, I know, I know…," he breathed, feeling wetness on his chest. "This fucking night," he grunted. Long minutes passed and they both watched the fading dark outside. Their breaths normalized. They just lay there… just being… completely intertwined in each other. More like desperate lone survivors than lovers. Like children on a stormy night.
Todd said in a quiet voice, "I can't do what you want… and even if I could, I feel like every time... hurts you. Denies you… as a person… as something more than..."
"You said for me to chase love, Blanco…"
"I will never be everything you need. I'm so fucked up..."
"You are enough for me. Just as you are."
"No. NO… you deserve more. You deserve everything." Todd broke a little as he held Rico's face in his hands, looking into those dark haunted-forever eyes, and whispered, "You deserve to be loved... the way you like… fully… everything…"
Rico turned and kissed Todd's hand, resumed his thoughtful gaze, "I don't care about that. But since it matters to you, how do you know you can't? Over time… it will no longer be what it used to be. I promise you." He added in a whisper, "In either direction."
"Jesus, Rico… God… FUCK… and it's more than that anyway…" Todd sighed noisily as if the world was pressing on his chest… which it was. He swallowed hard.
"Téa," Rico said.
"Yeah. No... I don't know. I have trust problems. She shot me! Twice!"
Rico chuckled quietly, the sound making Todd crack a smile, low reverberations against skin. He settled again. Glanced up… "She'll be back soon… you will leave soon."
"Maybe. But whatever, you're coming with me."
"As what, león?"
"As my friend… as someone..." He paused. What were they? What were they going to be? What could they possibly be? Ever? They were so fucking limited. First though, Caro needed fixing. The empire will implode, explode... after getting kids, saving them like that circus bear saved Rico. Meaning, Todd wasn't sure he was going to survive any of this anyway. Okay, so if that was the case… if this was his last moment on earth and he had to say what Rico was…
"As someone I love," he spit out. "I don't mean I'm gonna walk you down a fuckin' aisle… what I mean is… you are important. You are worth taking risks for… you help me see things I never saw before, never felt…you are… fucking… beautiful inside and strong outside and… you are worth being on this planet. You are not something to throw away. You talk about me being a lion? No, Rico… you are the goddamn lion. You are fucking majestic."
Rico had long lost himself in those words, crying silently into Todd's chest. He supposed the long term… didn't matter. He supposed what they were… didn't matter. What they did, what they didn't do. What did matter, was a concept of being worthy. This was something he needed to get used to.
Worth being here. Worth the life of his dancing circus bear. Being worthy was not in his lexicon. His value, his worth, had been defined by physical beauty and his highly limited...skill set. Worthy…. worthy of the sun rising in the morning and the moon at night, worthy of the waves on the beaches and the hope of New York City buildings… painting there…. sketching the Empire State Building, walking the streets with a messenger bag around his shoulders and maybe… maybe someone to love, next to him. It might not be Blanco as much as that hurt… but Blanco was the first one to ever say it and seem to mean it and right now… Rico needed to believe it. He had to if he wanted to believe Yanko died for a good cause.
Abram whined and snored… and the light of morning seeped through the glass.
Rico whispered, "So we will finish Caro. The system will be ended. And what… I'll go to the states with you? With Téa?" He sounded skeptical. Softly, he said, "Many people have promised that."
Todd turned hard, shoving Rico over, firmly but carefully. He sat up. Looked fierce. "Rico Macias… I mean what I say. I am not bullshitting you. We might not set up a fucking house together? BUT YOU ARE COMING HOME WITH ME. You are not going to die in fucking Havana as a fucking WHORE."
Rico gazed at him. Brows knitted. Said, "Getting out of Cuba… is not going to be easy. People swim and die in the water to get out. Sharks eat Cubans."
Todd heard Caro in his head… saying that Rico wasn't related to his family, not by blood. No doubt, he had been abducted from a real family. He knew English like a native, some turns of phrase that were instinct, that he couldn't possibly have learned in a book. Not to mention the detail of circumcision. Chances were... American or Canadian.
"Don't worry. I suspect getting you out will be a whole lot fuckin' easier than you think."
"Blanco… what if you die here in Havana?"
Eyes closing, he sighed heavily. Rico saw right fucking through him. "I'm leaving instructions with lawyers… you WILL leave this place even if I am dead. Especially if I am dead." He settled back on the headboard. "Sleep," he snapped.
Shaking his head, Rico slipped down into the covers. He got close to Todd… resting an arm across the lion's belly and before long he was asleep. He whimpered and twitched in that sleep. And Todd watched the sunrise… the clouds slipping to the side… a hand on his mari's head, unconsciously caressing him with his thumb.
And like those sun's rays, he felt the hate expand inside of him with every pained sound Rico made, with every jerk of his wounded body. The distance was gone. The post-seizure gone… Caro was going to die along with as many of his accomplices as Todd could wrangle and the world would be right again.
To be continued….
