After The Flesh

by Colin Gallant

  “If they put out,” Josh began sagely, “they’re worth spending money on again.”

  “Yeah,” Dave chuckled, “that’s what your mom said.” That line was a classic and it struck us funny even when it made absolutely no sense.

  “How many are we talking about here?” Jeff asked. “One? Two? Three? Four?” He held up a hand, extending four fingers before cupping them into a loose fist, an inch of air in its center. “Or was it all five?”

  “Five times with your sister last week,” Josh countered, “but I’m sure you know how good she is.”

  “Fuck-off,” Jeff managed while we laughed.

  “What about Carrie?” Dave asked Freddy suddenly. “You guys have been together forever – she puttin’ out yet?”

  Freddy shrugged. “Now and again – not as often as I’d like. She’s all for it but private time’s hard to come by – no pun intended.”

  “You need a car. You don’t need a license in this shit hole,” Josh declared. “We got what, three cops?”

  Freddy scoffed. “We find the time when we want to. Besides, it’s quality not quantity,” he assured them all and grinned, cupping his groin. “She’s got the quality and I damn sure have the quantity!”

  Çin scoffed. She tugged at the leg of his swim trunks. “Let’s see that quivering little match-stick, sweetie.”

  “Fuck you, Queenie,” Freddy smiled at her. He hopped on one leg, the other thrust out in front of him. The dock rocked alarmingly. “I’m a single amputee here.”

  “That’s not what Dave’s mom said,” Jeff challenged.

  Freddy shrugged. “What would she know? She isn’t flexible enough to turn around and see it.”

  “No, Freddy, that was his dad.”

  “Sorry, I forgot – you’re the one who knows about dads.”

  Everyone laughed – including me. Despite being somewhat shocked at his readiness to disrespect Carrie, I found myself actually enjoying Freddy’s company for once. I didn’t add anything to the conversation and no one asked me – which was fine. Even if I had something to boast about, I doubt I would have.

  “What about you, my Çin-fulness,” Josh asked, “you gettin’ any lately?”

  Çin was trying to sun tan but Dave kept trying to roll her off the dock. She finally reached out and used his groin for an anchor. Dave quickly lost interest in his game. She sat up and favored Josh with a wink. “I did bump into your sister the other day.”

  “And?” Dave prodded.

  “She said she was still sore from Freddy’s match-stick.”

  Good times.

  -

  We were walking home from the Slough that afternoon. It was pushing four. We had been in the water for a few hours and that was usually enough to give even the toughest of us low-grade hypothermia. Jeff was quiet for a change. Josh met up with a girl at the Slough and they went off together in his car. Otherwise we might have been able to bum rides from him. The old Acadian was a piece of shit but we were all still a little jealous of him. As the saying goes, wheels is wheels. Glumly, Jeff figured he was getting lucky right about then.

  “Doubt it,” Dave declared. “I bet as soon as she caught a whiff of the interior, she was ready to bolt.”

  Çin grinned and gave him a playful shove into a parking meter. “Yeah, you were pretty sick that night.”

  Jeff chuckled. “You spewed Blue Tassel and chicken nuggets all over the back seat.”

  “Fucker wouldn’t pull over,” Dave shrugged, “serves him right.”

  “Right about now it probably smells like a combo of legion hall and McDonald’s left out in the sun,” Freddy said. We chuckled at that. “I guess I probably don’t mind walking,” he decided.

  Çin snorted. “No biggie. No one can see my new boots if we’re riding.” She skipped to draw our attention down to the mid-calf black Doc Martin boots she was wearing below her summer dress. The dress’s pattern was white, with what first appeared to be tiny pink flowers, but closer inspection revealed they were in fact tiny pink skull and cross-bones with beady little black eyes. Lori Petty would have loved the outfit.

  “You’re such a chick,” Dave commented and shoved her back.

  “Thanks,” she replied, “so are you.”

  “Oh well,” Jeff sighed. He stopped and unshouldered his back pack. “I guess he doesn’t get any of this.” From the pack he drew out a baggy. Inside was something just light of three grams of pot.

  “Cool,” Dave breathed, “Hydro?”

  “No other.”

  “Cool,” he repeated before turning to the rest of us. “See. This is why we put up with his shit.”

  I was less interested in the marijuana than the others but I followed along nonetheless. Even Freddy enjoyed the occasional toke. He never drank much. He would have one or two beers at a party before switching to Cokes but pot was different. I suppose if John had been a pothead instead of an alcoholic Freddy would have drank instead of toked. Without Carrie around he had no qualms about joining the others.

  Dave and Josh were fiends for it. They smoked it at school, in the open on the Green and once out on the dock at the Slough in front of everyone. They never got caught, which surprised me but I knew one day they would crash and burn because of it. The only reason they could go for days at a time without smoking back then was because of funding issues. Once they could get jobs they would smoke far more. Çin enjoyed it as well – another reason I’m sure she was accepted. Smokers hang out with smokers and tokers hang out with tokers and the only thing better to a toker than another toker is a rich toker.

  We skirted the south end of downtown and Jeff led us into a dead-end alley behind Happy Hour beer and wine and the Seven-Eleven. It was one of our favorite spots. Foot traffic across the mouth of the alley was light and both stores barred and locked their rear entrances. They only opened for deliveries. So far, we had

  never been around to witness a delivery and we never considered it to be a threat. Dave pulled out his packet of zigzags and went to work on rolling a joint while the others watched. I hung back by the mouth of the alley, not purposely distancing myself from them for any reason other than I did not want to participate.

  “So, Freddy,” Jeff asked while Dave worked his majic, “your old man let you drive that machine of his yet?”

  “No fucking way. He won’t even let me back it out of the driveway.”

  “Your daddy gonna buy you a car when you turn sixteen?” Dave asked Çin. If anyone’s parents bought them a car it would be hers.

  “Doubt it,” she replied. “Dad says I need to earn it or I’ll never respect it.”

  Dave nodded sagely. “I guess that kinda makes sense – kinda. But you gotta have some cash saved up.”

  Çin shrugged. “A bit – enough to get me something like what Josh has. When I was younger, I had dreams of my dad buying me a fuckin’ ‘vette or something but I wised up quick. He started out shit-poor. Everything he’s got now he earned without help. I guess he kinda hopes I’ll do the same.”

  Dave sighed. “I’m gonna be bumming rides for a while yet I think. I’m where your old man was.” He shrugged. “Fuck it, right?”

  “You couldn’t reach the pedals anyway, you fuckin’ dwarf,” Jeff teased amicably. Suddenly and impatiently he changed tack: “Are you done with that thing yet?”

  Dave looked at the joint in his hands. It was rolled nearly perfectly – far better than any of us could have done. But then again Dave did have a lot of practice. “I was gonna offer it to you first but I thought its size would make you feel inadequate.”

  “Funny, ass. Just spark it already.”

  Dave lit it, inhaled deeply and passed to Jeff. Jeff passed to Freddy and Freddy to Çin. No one wondered about me. No one even looked in my direction. At times I became the invisible kid. I was far enough away that only the faintest whiff of sickly-sweet smoke reached me. I was fine with that much.

  Dave took the joint for a second pull before passing it on. Nearly half of it was
gone. Jeff was taking his second toke when the door on the back of Happy Hour banged open.

  “Hey!” It was the owner, Giles – a well-built man in his early forties. He wore his hair in a military buzz-cut and rolled the sleeves of his T-shirts nearly to his armpits in order to show off the hard coils of muscle packing his arms. To put it mildly he intimidated me. I saw Çin flinch but the other three only looked at him. Jeff held the still-smoldering joint between his thumb and forefinger. Arms swinging fiercely, Giles advanced on us. “What the fuck do you kids think this is – your own private shooter’s den?” He stabbed one thick finger at Jeff. “Dump it, kid.”

  “It’s good shit, man,” Jeff objected. “You wanna toke?”

  Dave snickered.

  The finger retracted into a tight fist. “I said drop it, you little fuck!”

  Jeff smirked and snorted a little laugh. It was either the bravest thing or the dumbest thing I’d ever seen.

  “You want me to call the cops?”

  “Go ahead,” Jeff challenged him, still holding the joint. He was not quite so daring as to take a drag with Giles standing there. “We’d be long gone before they got here – if they bother to come at all.”

  “I know who you little bastards are,” Giles threatened, grinning, spittle glistening on his lower lip. “How do you think that slut of a mother of yours would react, David, if the cops came to her door?”

  “Fuck you, queer,” Dave snarled, “I’ll skull fuck you in your sleep if you say another thing about my mother!”

  Giles laughed. “Kid, you got it wrong. You’re the one who’s gonna get fucked. They love little wise-asses like you in prison. I can see the baggy in your pocket. That shit is big enough to be criminal.”

  Dave cupped his groin, tugging sharply. “No, man. This is. Come here and I’ll give you the right to remain silent!”

  Giles, his face reddening, was nearly spitting. “I’ll fuck you up, kid!”

  “Wait,” Freddy spoke calmly. He managed with one soft-spoken word to cut through the growing din of rage.

  Giles blinked and looked at him. “What is it, Cartwright?” Thinking Freddy was shocked, Giles continued. “Yeah, I know who you are too. Your old man is my best customer.”

  “Am I supposed to get pissed at you for saying that?” Freddy did not raise his voice. He could have been discussing a book or television show at the dinner table. “My dad is a drunk. Wow.”

  The others watched him carefully, each a little awed at how calm he was.

  “And no,” Freddy added.

  Giles cocked his head. “No, what?”

  “No, you can’t watch me jerk off for a mickey or for a case of beer,” he replied. “Just like when you offered to blow Jeff for that bottle of rye he tried to buy. I hear you carded him and told him you’d give it to him for free if he let you suck him off,” Freddy glanced over at Jeff as if for confirmation. “I told you that fake id sucks.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” The strength had gone out of his voice. He seemed confused, a little afraid.

  “Hell,” Freddy smiled darkly. He took a step towards the shop owner, “I bet you I could find half a dozen kids in town easily who’d give me similar stories. All you got is a claim that we were smoking pot back here. I doubt the cops would take it as seriously as smoking pole – particularly if that pole is underage and being supplied with free booze.”

  Freddy stood within throttling distance of the big man but he did not look afraid. He looked confident and absolutely in control. I felt a pang of strange pride seeing him that way. He was doing something I could never have done – nor could the others. Even Jeff with all his bluster stood there nearly as gape-mouthed as Giles.

  “That’s a bunch of bullshit and you know it,” Giles muttered. “It won’t fly.”

  “You wanna chance it?” Freddy stepped over to Jeff and took the joint from his hand. He took a quick pull, rekindling the ember before passing it back. “Should I tell everyone how you said there’s nothing like the feel of young, hard cock exploding in the back of your mouth?”

  For a moment it looked like Giles was going to swing at him. His hands closed into tight fists, the veins in his forearms pulsing with heated blood. But Freddy just stood there, not wavering, not blinking. He was the samurai waiting out his enemy. He was the gunslinger on Main Street at high noon.

  Giles let his eyes drop. His fists relaxed if only marginally. “Just get lost, kid. I don’t want to see you guys in this alley again.”

  Freddy turned his back and walked to the mouth of the alley, stopping near my elbow. After a moment the others followed. Alone Giles stood there, looking very much deflated.

  -

  “Holy sheeit, Cartwright!” Jeff hissed once they had put enough ground between themselves and the alley not to risk a second confrontation with the shop owner. “That was fucking awesome! Bet you that guy does swing the other way too!”

  Freddy chuckled. He was feeling good, feeling tough. “You’ll be swinging the other way if you don’t ditch that roach.”

  Dave chuckled behind them and snatched it out of Jeff’s hand. He licked a finger and touched the ember to be sure before dropping it into his pocket. “What about me?”

  Freddy glanced back. “What about you?”

  “What did he offer me?” Dave clarified. Çin snickered beside him.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nah,” Freddy shook his head, “he never found you attractive.” Çin and Jeff doubled over. “We probably should find another spot,” Freddy decided seriously.

  “You think he’d actually call the cops?” Çin asked.

  “Don’t know,” replied Freddy back over his shoulder. They all smiled as an elderly lady strolled by. She smiled back. “I don’t want to find out.”

  “There’s plenty of places on the Green,” Dave suggested.

  “Yeah, true,” Jeff nodded. “That place you go to jerk off still hasn’t been found.”

  “Your mom found it.”

  “Guys,” Çin ventured, “let’s get off the mothers already. I’m tired.” She smirked and elbowed Dave, “’cause I just got off yours.”

  Dave elbowed her back. “You couldn’t handle my mom, munch!”

  “Didn’t we tell you,” Jeff chimed in, “there’s nothing to handle – she does all the work.”

  A few guffaws later we lapsed into silence – or I should say they lapsed into silence. I had trailed far enough behind as to be in my own group. To them I wasn’t even there.

  At Seventh Street Jeff and Dave said their goodbyes, heading up the block side-by-side. With backpacks instead of bindles they looked so much like a modern-day George and Lenny I nearly laughed. I half expected Dave to reach up and adjust Jeff’s collar or pat him amicably on the shoulder.

  “Show a lady home?” Çin asked as they turned off.

  Freddy bowed theatrically and motioned her to walk.

  They continued down the boulevard, winding past the south end of the Green where the ball diamonds ended. A scattering of picnic tables and barbeque pits stood at the fringe of the forest mostly unoccupied. On the weekends during the summer the area would be packed, a dozen or more greasy trails of charcoal smoke wafting skyward from late morning until well after dusk.

  Beyond the picnic area was the amphitheater. It was rarely used except for Boy Scout meetings and the occasional production of Shakespeare in the Park. I tried to go to the latter but Freddy would often find some excuse why we couldn’t. I know. I could have gone on my own. I did from time to time but I always felt the need to include him, to give him a taste of culture somewhat more refined than his Batman comics could offer.

  Past the amphitheater lay a tract of forest running west to the mountains and south nearly to the U.S. border. A patchwork of hiking trails – cross-country ski trails in the winter – crisscrossed the northern fringe of the forest but one could very easily get lost in there.

  Freddy’s place was two blo
cks away. Çin’s house was still half a mile distant on a ridge above the valley, a plateau of wealth and luxury called Crocker Heights. That was where the Macpherson clan resided, a family of three in a house big enough for thirty. Çin often said when she thought others were sneering at her station that her folks might be loaded but she had shit. It rarely worked.

  Freddy wasn’t jealous of her. He knew appearances were not everything. Çin’s dad spent weeks on end out of town for work and her mother often went with him. Çin lived mostly alone, usually only sharing the house on Tuesdays when the cleaning staff came through or on Fridays when the gardeners showed up. Freddy’s own father was an asshole and his mother was a drone, but at least they were there.

  Çin did not need to make excuses for her father’s success – at least not to us – but she did. She made excuses every time she was sporting multiple twenties and we were digging in the couch cushions for quarters. I don’t think she minded buying a round of Cokes or paying for a video game rental. Usually it was her idea – or she tried to make it sound that way. Our parents would describe her as a nice young lady if they ever met her. Her folks would have called us bad influences but they were never around long enough to discipline her. I’m not sure what was right and what was wrong.

  -

  I lagged back farther and farther. If I disappeared neither would care. Freddy rarely kept track of my comings or goings and as it turned out Çin had her own agenda. Maybe she wasn’t entirely the nice young lady everyone thought she was.

  “Hey,” Çin glanced around, her voice low, “where’d you come up with that sex stuff anyway?”

  Freddy smiled warmly. He was quietly pleased with himself. “I’ve got the mind of a true deviant.”

  Çin snorted. Her eyes were on her over-sized boots. “For a minute there I thought it was true.”

  “Giles may love the cock,” Freddy commented, “but likely only his own. If he could wrap it around his leg, he’d fuck himself.”

  “What if he did, you know?”

  “What?”

  Çin smirked. “Offer you a blowjob and a mickey.”