Kamikaze Boys

by Jay Bell

  “Seriously? Okay, but there’s not much to see.”

  Connor tried not to laugh as David led them through the living room, pointing out the obvious. “This is the big TV. That’s the sofa. This is the dining room table … where we eat.” Then he led them upstairs to a short hallway with two rooms. “This is my dad’s office.”

  Most of the room was dedicated to book-laden shelves, all nonfiction judging from the subdued spines. A medium-sized desk bearing a computer sat against one wall. On the other side of the room waited a lush leather chair, the trashcan next to it filled with empty wine bottles.

  “What’s your dad do?”

  “He’s a professor at the University of Missouri. The branch in downtown Kansas City, I mean.”

  “So he’s a smart guy then.”

  “Yeah.”

  Connor nodded to the trashcan. “And he likes to party.”

  David looked uncomfortable, making Connor regret his joke. “At night he comes up here and puts on classical music and just sits there drinking. I guess it’s the one thing we have in common. The music, I mean. Sometimes that’s all I do at night.”

  While lying in bed? Connor pictured David on his back, staring at the ceiling, the green hoody pulled away from the line of his jeans, revealing a hint of flat, smooth stomach.

  “So, yeah,” David said, almost causing Connor to jump. “One room to go.”

  The final room was the most telling. The unmade bed, the lack of decoration—aside from the family portrait on the wall—and dressers clear of anything remotely feminine. Mom didn’t live here anymore. Despite the three smiling faces on the wall, Connor didn’t think she had for quite some time.

  He considered the photo. David was in the center, embarrassingly juvenile. His face was chubby and his curly hair a miniature afro. Connor had to glance over at him, just to verify how much had changed. Height had stretched the chubbiness out of David’s face; the curly hair now short on top and the sides cut close. While his hair was still a little bouffant, Connor found it alluring. Would his fingers get tangled up if he tried running them through it?

  “I look horrible, I know,” David said. “I never want to be twelve again.”

  Connor returned his attention to the portrait. David had improved in every way, except one. The brown eyes of his twelve-year-old self were glassy with joy. The David of today had eyes that appeared sad when not guarded.

  The two adults at either side were an odd couple. The father shared David’s thin but broad-shouldered build. The rest of his features were hidden behind glasses and a beard. His appearance was stern, but Connor almost found this appealing compared to what his own father had become. The mother had an open face and long curly hair. Her smile was open-mouthed, giving her a slightly surprised appearance.

  “She left him the year this was taken,” David said.

  “What happened?”

  David took a deep breath. “Well, she said that she needed to find herself and a lot of other stuff that never made sense to me. She remarried less than a year later. I think she was seeing the new guy while she was still with my dad, but I’ve never asked.”

  “And you decided to stay with your dad?”

  David nodded. “I didn’t understand it all like I do now, but even then I knew my dad was the loser in the situation. I felt like someone should stay with him. Worked out well for me since Jeff, my mom’s new husband, is an asshole.”

  Connor hoped he never had to deal with that. His dad might be a drugged up blob, but the idea of a stranger taking his place was disturbing. As they left the room, Connor glanced back at the family portrait once more, at the cherub face in the center, and wished he could see David’s eyes light up like that again.

  The atmosphere in David’s bedroom was thick when they returned. The television was blasting out a heavy bass rhythm, and Gordon was on his feet, head whipping between his book and the screen as he read and reread paragraphs to Tommy.

  “Holy shit, is that the Dragon Lord?” David said, rushing to join them.

  Gordon nodded grimly. “I didn’t expect to fight him this early in the game.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tommy said. “I’m kicking his butt.”

  Connor shook his head ruefully, feeling like the only adult in the room as he nursed his Coke. David stared slack-jawed at the screen, his full attention absorbed by the game, so Connor took the chance to stare at him.

  This wasn’t good. His intentions had been noble enough at the beginning. He didn’t want to see the underdog beaten down, especially not by an asshole like Chuck, so he had stood up for David. But those protective feelings were quickly turning into something more.

  Not that Connor minded. He welcomed such emotions, felt high on them, even though he knew they would turn to frustration and pain. Eventually the price of protecting David would be getting hurt himself. But Connor wouldn’t let that stop him.

  The battle with the Dragon Lord raged on, so Connor examined the images on David’s walls. Most were of far-away locations—beaches, mountains, deserts, even underwater oceanscapes. Mixed among these were advertisements for different bands, a handful of fashion models strutting down catwalks, and two shirtless guys with their arms around each other.

  Connor stared. The black and white image was the typical homoerotic advertisement Abercrombie and Fitch liked to use, but here it stood out. He took a step back and looked at the collective images—far away places, music, and guys. No female fashion models, no tanned women on the beaches. The only women on David’s walls were band members.

  A victorious roar came from the gamers; Connor spun around. David was grinning and patting Tommy on the back, but when he saw Connor at his wall, he was on his feet in seconds.

  “I have way too much stuff up there,” he said, as if explaining it all away.

  Connor fought back a grin. No doubt about it, David was nervous. “I like it.” Connor turned back to the images. “Have you been to any of these places?”

  “Huh? No. I wish.” David considered the pictures, still tense. “I’d love to get out of Kansas. Go anywhere, see anything—just get away from here.”

  “Yeah, you and me both. Hey, we like a lot of the same bands. I didn’t peg you for an Outkast fan.”

  David nodded. “I like anything weird, and André 3000 is a freak.”

  “And these?” Connor pointed to a pouty runway model with long blonde hair. “You want to be a model? Or maybe a fashion designer?”

  Connor kept his eyes on David, who was shaking his head as if at a loss for words. Then Connor moved his finger down from the blonde model to the guys with their arms around each other. David’s nervous expression ceased, replaced by one of stubborn pride, a refusal to feel ashamed. Connor wanted to kiss him right then and there. He might keep it buried deep inside, but David had strength.

  A knock on the door made them both jump. When it swung open, the man Connor had seen in the family portrait upstairs was revealed, except now his beard had more grey and his hair was thinner.

  “You’re home early,” David said.

  “I told you yesterday that I would be,” Mr. Henry said. “Who’s this?”

  David made the introductions, Mr. Henry appearing more puzzled by Tommy’s presence than anything else. Connor stood up straight and made sure his handshake was firm, hoping to make a good impression.

  Mr. Henry eyed him a moment before turning to his son. “I have some errands to run. I’d like you to come with me.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll be up in just a few minutes.”

  There was some fuss over saving a game that Connor ignored. Instead he furtively wished he could turn back time and continue the interrupted moment. He was sure he hadn’t imagined it, positive he hadn’t misunderstood.

  David walked them outside, Gordon heading next door to his home.

  “Sorry about your car,” David said, scowling at the remnants of paint.

  Even his angry face wasn’t any good. He appeared more frustrated or concer
ned than anything else. Connor wanted to wipe away the creases on his forehead, kiss his pert little nose, and tell David to stop trying to be what he wasn’t.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said instead. “Chuck has a much nicer car, so getting back at him will be ridiculously easy. Do you know where he lives?”

  “Huh-uh. I know his dad has an office over on 151st Street. He’s a dentist.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll tail him home one day, like in a Hitchcock film.”

  David grinned appreciatively. “See you around.”

  Soon, Connor hoped. Those old movies were good at maintaining suspense, but Connor needed to find out if he had a chance, and needed to know now.

  Chapter Five

  David tossed the paperback aside and sighed. His concentration was failing him and he was tired of reading the same lines over and over again. Jacking off sounded good, but didn’t own a single porn magazine, and the office upstairs was no doubt occupied by his father. Sometimes he surfed porn on his phone, but another idea occurred to him.

  David pushed off the bed and went to his bookshelf. At the end of a row of worn paperbacks were a handful of yearbooks. He selected the most recent and returned to bed, sitting cross-legged with the book in his lap as he flipped through the pages. David was a sophomore last year, so most faces in the junior section weren’t familiar to him. But one was now—Connor Williams, third to the last photo in that section. His hair was a little longer, not the buzz cut he had now, but he still looked older than everyone else in his class.

  Connor wasn’t smiling, eyes cold. Even the crazed energy that had been evident when he first stepped in to save David was absent. Only days had passed since that event, but already Connor seemed a different person. The Connor from that day, like the Connor in this photo, were complete strangers. Fakes, even.

  A tapping on the window made David stiffen. He sat perfectly still, thinking he had just imagined it when it came again. Tap tap tap! A number of scenarios raced through his mind. —Chuck having tracked him down, Gordon desperate to talk about Dragon Death some more, or Connor come to hear the confession that had been on David’s lips earlier. That last thought put him in motion. He went to the window and peeked through the blinds.

  The first things he saw were a wide grin and a glint of madness in green eyes. Okay, so maybe Connor was a little crazy. David pulled up the blinds and opened the window.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding more put off than he meant to.

  Connor beamed at him. “I just wanted to see what you’re up to.”

  “You could have called.”

  “I don’t have your number.”

  David’s cheeks flushed. “Oh. Right.”

  Connor pushed at the screen. “Help me get this off. Do you see little tabs on your side?”

  They worked together on the screen like some sort of trust-building exercise, Connor describing what David should do and David trying to make sense of it, until the screen finally popped off. Connor set it aside and waited, still crouched on the ground.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” David asked.

  “Nope. You’re coming out. Let’s go for a walk.”

  Coming out? David blanched at his choice of words, wondering if it was a slight or a light-hearted jab. Or much more likely, Connor was still clueless. He probably thought David really did want to design wacky clothing that would never make it to the shops.

  David pulled himself up and out, Connor grabbing him under the pits to help him. Then they stood, cramped together in the narrow space between the building’s wall and a row of bushes and brush. David slid the window mostly shut behind him, then let Connor lead him around an air conditioning unit that had been waiting since last summer to have purpose again. Pushing through a section of brush that was thinner than the rest, they tumbled out into the street.

  “Bad news and good news,” Connor said, picking up a plastic bag on the ground. “The bad news is that Chuck only lives about ten blocks from here. The good news—” He dug in the plastic bag and pulled out a bottle of water. “—is that we’re going to have some fun.”

  “Yippie,” David said as he accepted the bottle. “Please tell me this is actually vodka.”

  “You drink?”

  “No. Well, at least not yet. I didn’t do drugs until just the other day.”

  Connor smirked. “Well, drink up. It’s just water, but I need you to chug it.”

  After digging out another bottle from the bag, Connor opened and downed half of it. David did the same as they began walking.

  “How did you find out where Chuck lives?”

  “Internet,” Connor answered. “I looked up the site for his dad’s dentist office and got his first name. There aren’t many people named Bryl in the phonebook and only one with the right initials, so that gave me the address. I cruised by on my way here to make sure.”

  “Why aren’t we driving now?”

  “Because we need stealth.” Connor winked at him. “My car isn’t exactly quiet. Now drink up.”

  Excitement stirred in David. What were they going to do? Toilet paper his house? Leave a bag of burning dog poop on the front porch? The plastic bag Connor had been carrying was now empty and stuffed into a back pocket, so whatever their plans were, they didn’t involve any supplies.

  The condos behind them now, they crossed a busy street to a community of houses that weren’t exactly luxurious, but many had three-car garages, or the occasional boat parked on a trailer outside. David glanced up at the moon, half-obscured by clouds, and felt heady. Here he was, sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night. Hell, he could probably have walked out the front door with his father’s permission. He was almost seventeen and it was Friday night, but doing it this way gave him complete freedom.

  “There it is,” Connor said as they rounded a corner.

  The house wasn’t as impressive as its neighbors, only having a two-car garage, but a hint of blue light between the planks of the privacy fence suggested a pool. Parked out front was Chuck’s silver Mazda RX-8. Despite it being alone and unoccupied, David shivered at its sinister presence, an extension of its owner’s malevolence.

  “What are we going to do?” David whispered as they strolled toward it.

  “Nothing much. At least not tonight. I just want to give us something to smile about when we see him Monday. You take the driver’s side.”

  Connor walked up the driveway as if he owned the place. The street lights were spaced far enough apart that the driveway was in shadow, but David still felt exposed. Not understanding the plan, he waited by the driver-side door while Connor stood by the passenger’s side. He fumbled with something, glancing down once, before he looked up and grinned at David. Then came the sound of trickling water.

  “Are you pissing on his car?” David hissed, trying not to laugh.

  Connor gave a crooked grin and nodded. “Next time one of Chuck’s friends opens the door, their hands will end up sticky. How about the driver?”

  David glanced at the door handle. Why the hell not? After double-checking the street, he unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick, and went to town. He had to step back to avoid splashing, and his aim wasn’t perfect because he was laughing, but Chuck was guaranteed to get a handful of stale, sticky piss.

  Connor came around the car when David was done. “Feel better?”

  He did. And next time he sat next to Chuck in math class and had to listen to his insults, he could take solace in having indirectly pissed on him. Except it wasn’t enough to make up for what had been done to Connor’s car. Even if he got the windshield clean, other parts of the car would still be stained. At the very least, Chuck’s car deserved to be equally marred.

  Acting on impulse, David kicked the car. He was hoping to dent it, but the exterior was tougher than he expected. What did happen was that the alarm went off, an annoying looping siren that filled the empty street.

  “Shit!”

  They both blurted it at t
he same time and raced off in the direction they had come from. Once they made it around the corner, Connor started laughing. David was too scared they would get caught, pumping his legs as fast as he could to get away, almost yelping in fright when a hand grabbed his arm. It was Connor, pulling them to the side of one house that wasn’t lit.

  Connor was still laughing. “Can’t breathe!” he wheezed before he doubled over again.

  The alarm wailed for a second longer before it beeped and turned off. David strained to hear if anything was happening the next street over, but there was nothing. Like most car owners, Chuck probably glanced out the window while turning off the alarm and nothing more.

  “And people say I’m crazy!”

  David chuckled nervously. “Sorry. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “No harm done.”

  They stood together with their backs pressed against the house, making sure trouble wasn’t following. When it seemed they were safe, they made their way back toward David’s home.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Connor asked.

  “Nothing tomorrow. Sunday is Gordon’s birthday, and I promised to take him shopping. He’ll probably want to do a video game marathon the rest of the day.”

  Connor kicked a pinecone off the sidewalk. “Well, I have to work Saturday, but only during the day. Maybe we can get together afterwards. Go for a drive or hang out at my place. Tommy usually stays at a friend’s house on the weekends.”

  Would that mean a sleepover? Or would they just hang out and go their separate ways later? It had been so long since David had a friend other than Gordon that he barely knew what to expect.

  “Yeah, okay. Just give me a call when you’re off work.”

  Connor pulled out his cell phone, which looked almost as beat-up as his car. “What’s your number?”

  “Wait until we’re back to my room. I left my phone there, and that way I can punch in yours at the same time.” Not to mention that David didn’t have his own number memorized. There wasn’t anyone to give it to, except for his parents and Gordon.

  Climbing back into his room through the window felt oddly like breaking into his own home, but everything was where he left it, so he didn’t think his absence had been noticed. Unplugging his phone from the charger, David casually navigated to the menu that displayed his number and read it to Connor. Then he had Connor repeat his number twice as he keyed it in. He turned to plug the phone back in, and his heart started thudding.