by David Sharp
Daniel warmed out of his freakiness and smiled in front of the white noise on the television screen.
*
The loft was almost immaculately clean, with the lights turned down and candles burning. On Patrick's belated return, Daniel was attempting to do four things at once, including picking up stray socks, tossing bottles into the trash, wiping a counter, and straightening his button down shirt to finish up the final details. The house key in the lock jarred him, but he still finished his chores in the nick of time.
With his arms full of Chinese take-out, Patrick took in the sights of the loft and of a nicely dressed and shaven Daniel and was impressed. "Now that is much better to come home to."
"I'm sorry about earlier. I was a little tweaked out," Daniel absently chewed on his lip.
"A little, huh? I would hate to see a lot." Patrick set the food down on the dining table.
"Okay, maybe a lot. I'm starving." Daniel took a seat next to Patrick.
"When did you eat last?"
Daniel roughly spoke between fast bites, "Three...four...days ago, I think."
"So, Chad baled on you." Patrick waited for the reaction.
"I called in for both of us on Saturday. I wasn't feeling well and he was..."
"Tell me where he is," Patrick demanded softly.
Daniel's eyes widened at the sudden interrogation. "I really don't know."
Patrick visually calmed. On the surface, he seemed to believe Daniel. Below the mask, he was trying his hardest to keep his anger in check. "It's okay. He'll come back when he's ready. They always come back one day."
"I suppose he will...in time."
"Now finish up your food and come sit on my lap."
Daniel felt like a bad dog and grudgingly obeyed his current master, the alpha he had chosen of his free will.
Chapter Fourteen:
On New Year's Eve, the last day of 1993, Patrick's silver BMW 3 Series idled in the cold outside of the front of club Trade.
Daniel got out of the car and leaned back inside the window saying, "Go ahead and get to work so you can make us some money."
"Are you sure? It's still early." Patrick rubbed his hands together against the chill air.
"Yeah, go on. I can wait until Stina gets here. I'm a big boy."
"That you are," Patrick smirked.
Daniel kissed him. "Now get out of here before I do bad things to you."
"Promises...promises," Patrick drove off into the night.
Daniel looked up and down the mostly deserted street as the BMW became smaller, flashing a tiny red light as it turned off onto another road. He sat on the cold sidewalk, his thinly jacketed back to the cement wall. Knees pulled up for warmth, he ran a hand through his moussed hair and hoped that someone would show soon. This part of town could be a little dangerous at times. A lone car, a black 1988 Mustang GTO, pulled up to the curb, its engine rumbling. The driver was a strikingly familiar chiseled sandy blond man with intense blue green eyes.
"What are you doing, boy?"
"Dean! When did you get back?" Daniel nearly skipped to the rolled down passenger's side window.
"I'm on a shore leave." Dean checked out Daniel and fleetingly, the building behind him. "Do you work here?"
Daniel shrugged, "Yeah, the money's good."
"Who would have thought that you would be working at Trade. Damn, how long has it been?"
"I can't believe it's you." Daniel wanted to touch him to see if he was really there.
Dean raised his muscled arms, and presenting his body with a gesture, said, "In the flesh."
"What are you doing riding around over here?"
"Cruising for trouble and it looks like I found it. Now get in," Dean beckoned.
"I have to work in an hour."
"Perfect...get in." Dean raised his eyebrows and motioned to the seat beside him.
Daniel hesitated for a moment before getting in, and for reassurance he touched his tucked away wolf tail. The leather seat felt nice as he slid into the comfort. "I always did love this car. Where are we going?"
"You'll see." Dean slid on his mirrored shades, giving him an authoritarian look like a police officer. He revved up the Mustang, totally in control. Quickly, the block was made and the car pulled in behind a bar dumpster, out of sight from the street.
"What are we doing back here?"
Dean leaned back, stretching out his legs, his hands positioned behind his head, and nodded, "Go ahead."
"What?" Daniel was confused.
"Nobody is watching. Go ahead."
Daniel's heart beat a little faster. He tentatively reached over and traced the outline in Dean's jeans, feeling a response. The sublime beauty of Dean's face sealed the invitation, so Daniel accepted and got his sailor off.
*
Trade was extremely packed and Daniel found it difficult to get a bus tub through the more than two thousand revelers crowded inside, but he managed, even with his mind elsewhere.
The memory of his encounter with Dean lingered. He was mad at himself for being so easy. Worst of all, he had still hoped for more than a fling and was left with the edging reality of an empty promise of another encounter with his sailor. The last glimpse of his strapping once partner had begun to fade as the Mustang peeled out, leaving Daniel alone near a trash filled alley behind the club building. Daniel recalled that moment, the handsome image of Dean, but it was ghostly, as if they were from a dream, the details floating away in fragments. Daniel felt the fur in his pants and remembered that his wolf tail was buried in there, so he set it free.
"Vodka!" Eddie yelled over the din, wearing his trademark coveralls that showed off his beefy torso in the right way to double his tips.
"I'm on it!" Daniel yelled back as he raised the tub over his head, crawled under the bar, and deposited it onto the floor by a sink. He gave a thumbs-up sign to Eddie in case he didn't hear. On acknowledgment, he was off into the throng. Rushing through them, he noticed how they partied harder that night, marking their goodbyes to the past year with pure decadence.
The DJ spun some deep house that night. Daniel liked it, even without a clue as to what artist or track was being played, other than it sounded like something German. All that mattered was the deep thumping bass that got into his nervous system, erasing the doubts of Dean. The sensation felt like a mental reset. In the nick of time, he came to a halt in front of an impromptu champagne table set up in a chill area before the back stairs.
"Awe, on dirait que vous avez besoin d'un split de champagne." Marie, in a graceful classic pose, poured two glasses and slid one forward.
"I have no idea what you are saying most of the time, but cheers," Daniel toasted.
"Bonne annee," Marie delicately took his empty and pouted her lips.
"Bonne annee," Daniel returned the salutation and left.
Dodging well dressed to semi-naked eighteen to twenty-something queer males who were making their way to the rail to look over the dance floor before midnight, Daniel fought his way down the stairs. The painted black hallway to the office was covered in broken glass and ice. Near the office door, someone had vomited. Adeptly, Daniel made his way past the obstacles, hoping that no one would ask him to clean it up.
When the door opened, Daniel was surprised to see the office full, having to push himself through another mob inside. The door slipped from his fingers and shut. A laughing Freddy reached past him and locked the door. Daniel eyed the assortment of characters and found the boss.
"Hey Stina, I need some vodka for upstairs."
Stina gave a stern look and then smiled from behind the desk. "Relax, it can wait a minute." He pointed to his watch, tapping the glass. "It's almost midnight."
A mostly naked, t-back wearing lean male dancer rose up from the desk, snorting. Champagne was poured freely into red plastic cups. Daniel didn't recognize any of the people in his sight except for Freddy and Stina. A tap on his shoulder distracted him. He turned around and saw Patrick dressed in a coat and tie,
smiling broadly to show off his extra white teeth. "Oh my God, I didn't expect to see you here." Gratefully, he accepted the big warm hug.
The energy in the office changed and the group chanted, "10...9...8..."
"Look who I found," Patrick moved aside revealing Chad who looked decidedly thinner, but had recently cleaned up, most likely at the loft.
The group continued, "7...6...5..."
"Dammit, Chad," Daniel grabbed Chad's arms, tentatively stroked his fox fur and strangely felt sad for a second. "Where have you been?"
"I'm back, and that's all that matters." The hint of sadness was reflected in Chad, but was soon replaced by his usual carefree cheer.
The final countdown climaxed with, "4...3...2...Happy New Year!"
In the din of noise and spilling champagne, the threesome reunited and embraced with a deep kiss. They licked the bubbly wine off of each other in a crazy, exciting, magical moment.
Stina tapped both Daniel and Chad on their shoulders. "Now, get back to work, both of you. Chad, take the floor and don't screw up again."
"Yes sir," Chad brightened and stroked Daniel's wolf tail.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Vodka," Daniel deadpanned.
"Coming up," Stina moved with a quickness that belied his age.
Daniel hugged Chad a second time and the fast movement caused their tails to briefly intertwine. "Don't leave me like that again."
"I'm sorry, dude." Chad shrugged his shoulders. "I'll try."
"You'd better," Daniel shook his head and felt the room swim before him. The twisted image righted and then flowed again as if he was in a conscious swoon. The rest of the night was a blur, one of many blurs that burned up memories and the cells that housed them.
Chapter Fifteen:
The loft was quiet with a rare peace. A laid-back Daniel enjoyed the calm as he watched a bad, the good kind of bad, action movie on cable. He munched on chips from a bag at his side and admired the physique of Dolph Lundgren, sweaty and barely clothed in a pair of shorts, training in some African desert on the television. The crunch of a chip seemed overly loud since the volume was turned down.
Downstairs, the front door slammed and various noises could be heard, first below, and then on the stairs. Daniel sighed, upset that his tranquility was over. The blue wolf fur suit caught his eye from the dark recesses of the closet, taunting him.
The bedroom door banged open. Chad, half-naked, finished undressing and pushed Patrick back onto the bed, frantically unbuckling his belt. Daniel scooted over, ignoring their amorous behavior in favor of Dolph's glistening bare body on the screen. The action hero flexed his muscles as he pulled a tree stump across the sand, causing his shorts to ride up high on his well-oiled thighs. Daniel bit into another chip, casually glanced at his partners, and then returned his gaze to the movie. Chad and Patrick rolled onto Daniel lustfully and pulled back the sheet, exposing him to their hands and lips, which attacked his flesh with passion.
"You freaks," Daniel felt the chips fall from his side and hit the floor. Half-heartedly, he let them have their way. His eyes drifted to the closet again as Chad went down on him. The blue wolf's face seemingly moved in the shadows. Patrick lifted Daniel's legs up and he bucked, trying to throw him off, but he could not move him.
"Ow! Wait, it hurts." Daniel tensed up.
"Just breathe," Patrick soothed and eased forward.
Daniel moaned and bit the pillow.
Chad rose up with a slack face that changed to a grin. He slapped Patrick's behind, saying, "Yeah, give it to him."
Daniel grimaced from the amorous assault and tried to get into it, but he could not find the joy. A tear slid down his face to dissolve into the pillow. He felt violated and hated both of them in that moment. He closed his eyes and thought of his sailor, the one who got away, and knew that even though he was undependable, it was never like this, never against his will. When the deed was done, he lay there on his back and watched Patrick take Chad to task. Their coupling seemed detached, like a live porno that played out next to him, bouncing the mattress. Daniel rolled over and stared at the blue wolf until his eyes were heavy and sleep found him.
*
Daniel awoke to the sound of screaming. Disorientated, he pulled back the sheet and sat up. A moment of disgust at the still sticky lube on him quickly passed with another scream from inside of the bathroom.
Patrick stormed in and pounded on the locked door. "Open the fucking door!"
"Leave me alone!" Chad screamed again from the enclosure.
Patrick was in a pure rage, banging on the door harder. "Open it now!"
Daniel crawled off of the edge of the bed and bent down to grab a pair of boxer shorts to slip them on. "What's happening?"
"Fuck," Patrick yelled in impotent rage at the situation.
Daniel jumped up and edged closer. "What is Chad doing in there?"
"He's got all of my dope in there. That's what he's doing."
"What do you mean by all?" Daniel was drowned out by the pounding force.
Patrick cracked the door frame with his fury. "I hope you O.D., you little fucker!" Patrick whirled around, bumping Daniel out of his way and storming off downstairs in frustration.
Daniel, wide eyed, put his head to the bathroom door and listened. All that he could detect were the faint sounds of running water followed by the soft click of the lock. The door creaked open inward. Daniel pushed it but was met with a force that pushed it back harder. "Chad, it's me. Open the door."
Before Daniel could hear a reply, Patrick returned, wrenching him away and knocking him down on all fours. Daniel watched from the floor as Patrick pounded on the door, his veins protruding from his neck in fury. Crawling backward out of the way, Daniel took in the violence as the door creaked and moaned under the assault. With a hefty body shove, the door was knocked open, revealing the horror on the other side, and driving Patrick backward in shock.
The bathroom was like a slaughterhouse, blood everywhere, purposefully sprayed on the walls and mirror. Chad, who looked like a butchered fox, was partially wearing the fur suit. The zipper was open down the front, revealing his pale skinned chest. The fox head was lying on his shoulder, its vulpine features in a mock look of surprise. In the shocking moment, Chad grabbed something wrapped in plastic and bolted, slipping on the charnel tiles and losing his balance. Patrick came to his insane senses and punched Chad in the face, sending them both reeling as they slipped in the blood. The scuffle continued on the carpet, leaving red footprints. The sounds of the fight were muffled by the padding, and an acute metallic ping could be heard as a syringe dropped from the bathroom counter to the tiles below.
Daniel moved aside as the fight progressed into the hall. The violence was quick and brutal, sending Daniel's nerves into a fray. Chad got loose and fell down half the stairs while Patrick still antagonized and beat the half man half fox. Daniel could not make out the harsh words that passed between them and was glad when they were out of sight. He peeked into the bathroom, not believing the amount of blood. Seeing the syringe that dripped a yellowish fluid, he had an idea of what had happened. Daniel shut the door, took a deep breath, and thought about the many things Chad and Patrick did not talk to him about: the many secrets they kept, primarily that one or both of them had a taste for needles. The images burned into his brain. Daniel closed his eyes, gently rocking back and forth as he wished he could forget.
Chapter Sixteen:
Not a word had been said about the brutal event and Daniel began to wonder what he really saw in that bathroom. He thought it over as he wrapped ice in a bar towel for Chad's eye. No one at the club had said a word either, but he sensed they thought the worst. People always did. Daniel rejoined Chad, who sat alone with his head in his hands. The usual group of Trade bar staff began to disperse from their previously positions of sitting, squatting, or standing in the shadows by the edge of the dance floor.
Chad took the ice and sulked. Daniel had so many questions and had
been biting his tongue as he waited for the meeting to end. Daniel barely registered anyone in the club, but Chad's war weary profile held his attention.
"Are you alright?" Daniel ventured.
"No. Do I look alright?" Chad adjusted the ice towel on his face.
"Dammit, Chad, what were you doing in there?"
Chad wearily looked at Daniel. "You saw the needles."
"It was like the Texas Chainsaw Massacre in there. I have never seen anything like it."
Chad gave a weak smile. "I was high as fuck, in my fur suit, and after a shot, I went a little crazy, that's all."
"Is it normal to do that when you shoot up?"
"Nah, I think it's just me." Chad widened his eyes like a psycho. "I ain't right in the head as it is. The dope makes it worse."
"You should have told me." Daniel play roared in a quiet manner, then out of nowhere he jabbed Chad in the arm.
"Ow, that hurt." Chad rubbed his bicep. "I kept it from you because you are too innocent for that shit."
"Innocent? Really? Are you calling me innocent?"
"Well no, but yes, in some ways."
"Daniel, all I'm saying is that it's not for you."
"And Patrick, he does it?"
"Yeah, he's a closet junky."
"I can't believe this."
"The world is not what you think it is."
"No, I suppose it's not. Are you and Patrick okay?"
"What do you think?"
"I mean you are staying, right?"
"Until he throws me out," Chad moved the bar towel away from his black eye and used it to wipe his swollen face.
"Good, because we still have a Furry Friday to go to."
Chad chuckled and winced at the pain. "That we do, Dan."
Daniel relaxed. "So, what do you think of this Studio 54 party, the one that Stina was going on about at the meeting?"
"I think he's still lost in the disco days."
"Did you see those short shorts we have to wear?"
"Hey, you can make some money wearing those."
The dynamic duo laughed together for the first time since the chaos. The fun moment lasted until Rory disturbed them with his uptight British demeanor.