ANGEL: When Angels Cry

by CJ Bishop

  He pressed his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, his heartbeat strong at the base of his throat, nearly choking him. You are one pathetic motherfucker, you know that? Getting all worked up over some kid still wet behind the ears. Hiding out, eavesdropping…what is with you?

  Dane had no answers and didn’t really want to delve too deeply into any probable ones either. He released a slow, labored breath. “Just get a fucking grip.” He whispered.

  “Hey.” Angel’s tentative voice in the doorway caused Dane to flinch hard, cracking his head against the wall. His eyes snapped open and heartbeat spiked so fast he almost fainted. “Are you okay?”

  “Huh?” Dane cleared his throat quick and pushed off the wall but only took a single step. He dragged his hand down his face. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Okay.” The kid seemed doubtful. “Well, uh…I’ll see you later. I was just here for the…lessons. I don’t actually come on until this evening.”

  Dane nodded silently, unsure why he was telling him this.

  Angel lingered in the doorway for a moment, possibly waiting for Dane to say something. When he didn’t–couldn’t–the boy licked his lips slowly and flicked his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Well, see ya.” Then walked away.

  Swallowing hard, Dane walked to the doorway on shaky legs and looked out, catching a glimpse of Angel as he reached the entryway out into the main part of the club. The boy cast a sudden look back, catching Dane’s stare unexpectedly. A shy smile touched his lips and then he was gone, out of sight. Oh, but not out of mind.

  Dane dropped back hard against the door frame, heart pounding. This was insane. This boy should not be having this effect on him. But the fact that he was–gave him all the more reason to run the other way. It had hurt bad enough losing out with Caleb, and he’d never even had a real chance with him. But Angel…the way the boy looked at him at times…to get up close and personal with that boy and then lose him…

  It would annihilate you, and you damn well know it.

  ***

  “What the fuck were you doing up there?” The slap caught Angel in the back of the head as soon as he came through the front door of the apartment. His eyes instantly stung from the force and he stumbled forward a couple paces before catching himself.

  He frowned hard, eyes burning, and grabbed the back of his head where Wade smacked him. “What’re you talking about?”

  “You’re not there to fuck around with your little faggot boyfriends.” Wade snapped.

  Angel swallowed hard and pulled back the tears. “I wasn’t. Ricky was giving me dance lessons. They won’t put me on stage if I can’t dance.”

  “Oooh, Ricky.” Axel mocked, coming out of the tiny kitchen. A sickly sweet stench hung on the air, informing Angel that his brothers had been getting high again. “Did he buy you roses and dinner too?”

  Angel ignored him. The guy was a moron. But he never said that out loud. He was a moron, but a moron who could–and would–beat the shit out of him.

  “Where’s Maddy?” Angel mumbled. He didn’t like it when Wade and Axel smoked dope around his little brother–not that it was anything new to the kid, but more than once he’d gotten a contact high and Angel didn’t want him around it any more than necessary. Sometimes Axel would deliberately blow the smoke in Maddy’s face because he found it amusing when the boy got high.

  “Sent him down to grab a carton of cigarettes.” Wade said absently. His face was still hard with irritation and he switched back to the previous subject. “Why the fuck do you need dance lessons? You already know how to fucking dance. You’ve been doing it for years.”

  “That wasn’t dancing.” Angel whispered. “The Phoenix is different from those places. It has real dancers…not just guys up there shaking their asses. And…” He looked away. “They don’t do anything else on stage either.”

  Wade smacked him in the back of the head again. “Well you better fucking do something, you’ve been there two weeks and haven’t brought in shit. If this is how it’s gonna be, you can go back to the other clubs.”

  Clubs. Those places weren’t Clubs. They were brothels. And the thought of going back into that made Angel’s gut twist with nausea and anxiety. “I’ll start bringing in cash.” Angel assured him. “They’re expecting to have a big crowd this weekend, I should be able to do pretty well.”

  “See that you do.” Axel smirked. “We need some more weed and we’re running low on moolah.”

  So get off your lazy ass and get a job a fucking job. Angel just looked at him, but didn’t dare voice his thoughts. Axel was quick tempered and despised that Angel was a flaming queer. He had yet to waste an opportunity to use his fists on Angel to prove to him how weak and girly he was. Had the guy not been so homophobic, he probably would have fucked him too–just to try and put him in the place of a woman.

  “I’ll get the money.” Angel said again, quiet. Submissive. He’d fought back once, when all this had started–and nearly paid for it with his life. There was no doubt in his mind that neither Wade nor Axel would hesitate to beat him to death if he rebelled, especially if they happened to be drunk or high at the time. And he couldn’t take the risk. Not when he was all that stood between Maddy and a life of hell.

  The front door opened behind them and Maddy entered wearing a dark hoodie sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head. He mumbled something too low for Angel to hear and handed Wade a carton of Marlboros and excess change. Maddy didn’t look at Angel and brushed past them, walking towards the bedroom.

  “Maddy?” Angel called after him but the boy ignored him and disappeared down the short hall. A moment later, the bedroom door closed. Angel looked at Wade. “What’s wrong with him? What did you guys do?”

  “Nothing.” Wade said dryly and walked into the kitchen.

  Axel smirked but said nothing as he followed his older brother.

  His stomach pinching, Angel went to the bedroom he shared with Maddy and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Maddy? What’s wrong?”

  The boy was lying face down on his bed, the sweatshirt still on. “Nothing.” He said thickly.

  “Don’t lie to me.” Angel said. “If Wade or Axel did something, you have to tell me.”

  The boy sat up slowly, dropping his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat with his hands in his lap, hood still pulled over his head, hiding most of his face. When Angel looked at him, he didn’t see the fifteen year old boy he now was–but rather the child of ten he had been when their life had transformed from a bad dream…into this living nightmare.

  He sat down beside him and peeled off his hood, revealing a bruise high on his right cheek. Angel’s eyes stung with tears. “What happened?” he whispered thickly. It was bad enough having to do what he had to do–but being forced to leave Maddy in the care of Wade and Axel while he was gone, that put a knot of fear and anxiety in his gut that never went away. The boy should’ve been in school, but Wade didn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut and wasn’t willing to risk anyone snooping into their lives.

  “Wade hit me.” He said quietly, but didn’t offer anything more.

  Angel brushed dark strands off the boy’s brow. “Why?” He asked tightly.

  “Because I didn’t want to smoke a joint with them.” He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed. “Wade said I was probably just another sissy…faggot…like you, then he hit me.”

  Angel wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him against him. He pressed his lips to the boy’s hair and closed his eyes, hot tears burning, squeezing out. “I’m sorry, Maddy.”

  “It isn’t your fault.” Maddy whispered, a shudder to his voice.

  Angel did everything in his power to protect Maddy from Wade and Axel–and their violent, twisted minds–but there was only so much protection he could offer. Angel was a victim too, more so in many ways. He didn’t know how to keep Maddy safe.

  I’ll find a way to get you out of here, Maddy. I will. He hugged him tighte
r, throat hurting as it began to knot and tighten. I won’t let them do to you what’ve they done to me.

  Chapter Three

  Threshold of Hell

  He sensed the lingering presence of the visitor before he discovered the evidence. The scent of his cologne somehow lingered even after days; a masculine aroma that Horatio was well acquainted with. It hadn’t been so long since that scent had invaded his nostrils, intoxicated his senses as he’d held the man in his arms, made love to him like there was no tomorrow. And in truth…there had been no tomorrow after that last time.

  The bedroom remained as his secret visitor had left it; scotch glass sitting before the framed photo of days long past, crumpled blankets where the much coveted body had lain and perhaps contemplated what life could have been under other circumstances. The pillow retained the depression where his head had rested. Horatio laid down on the opposite side of the bed, on his side, arm tucked under his cheek as he imagined Max still there, on his bed, aching for the love that had been ripped from their hands, yet the residue of which lingered painfully in their hearts.

  Horatio turned onto his back, his gaze coming to rest on the tiny red light, barely detectable in the high corner of the bedroom ceiling. Had Max known Horatio would have eyes on him? His head twisted and he stared at the scotch glass, a residue of amber liquid in the bottom. He hadn’t tried to hide his presence here. He wanted you to know.

  Leaving the bed, Horatio retrieved the security footage and watched in quiet anguish as Max moved through his apartment as if he were venturing into forbidden territory, and perhaps that’s how the man saw it. He watched Max holding the photo, the weight that seemed to press down on his shoulders. Then he set the scotch glass on the night stand and lay on the bed, gazing at the ceiling, and then–‘I love you, Horatio.’

  Horatio replayed it over and over, his heart coming apart a little more each time Max spoke the words.

  “I love you too.” He whispered, his head sinking into his hands, fighting against the urge to rush to the man and beg him to say it to him, face to face.

  ***

  Angel had been gone a short while before Dane ventured back out into the club and approached the bar. Cole and Gabe had migrated from the table–now that the show was over–and lingered on the bar stools previously occupied by Wade and his jumpy friend.

  “How you doing, buddy?” Cole asked softly, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Sit down, I’ll buy you a cold one to soothe your nerves.”

  Gabe chuckled and shook his head.

  “Fuck you.” Dane grumbled and slid onto a stool. “There’s nothing wrong with my nerves. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He nodded at Carl, who handed him a chilled bottle of Coors.

  “You didn’t seem too thrilled by Ricky’s lessons.”

  “Whatever.” He mumbled and swallowed half the bottle of beer. “Ain’t none of my concern.” He took another drink, eyes tight, hard. “I mean, what do I care if Ricky teaches Angel how to be slut? No skin off my nose.”

  Yeah. Sure. Cole looked at Gabe and smirked.

  “So,” Gabe joined in. “Did you talk to him when he got off stage?”

  “Who?” Dane muttered.

  “Uh, Angel.” Gabe chuffed.

  Dane shrugged. “Why would I talk to him?”

  “No, he just eavesdropped on us.” Ricky slid onto the stool next to Gabe and wink down at Dane.

  “Fuck you, I wasn’t eavesdropping.” Dane snapped.

  Ricky leaned close to Gabe, cocked an eyebrow and nodded silently. A gesture Dane didn’t miss.

  “I said I wasn’t fucking eavesdropping.” Dane hissed.

  “Easy, baby.” Cole touched his shoulder and smiled. “No need to get riled.”

  Dane shrugged his hand off with annoyance and tipped the bottle to his lips again, knuckles straining as he gripped the glass container fiercely.

  “So anyway,” Ricky chimed. “Angel says he isn’t looking for a boyfriend. But I think he’s lying. So…” He glanced at the three men, eyes lingering briefly on Dane who refused to look at him. “I was thinking of maybe trying to talk him into going on a date with me.” He smiled. “Unless, of course, anyone here has dibs on him?” Again, his gaze settled on Dane.

  “Cole and I pretty much keep each other busy.” Gabe smirked. “So…we don’t have an issue with it.” He glanced past Cole. “How about you, Dane? You got a problem with Ricky asking Angel for a date?”

  With a stiff grunt, Dane stepped off the bar stool without looking at any of them. “I really don’t give a fuck what he does.”

  When he walked away in an obvious huff, Ricky chuckled. “Fuck, he’s got it bad, doesn’t he?”

  “To put it mildly.” Cole laughed low. He looked at Ricky. “By the way, he thinks you’re a slut.”

  Ricky chuckled and grabbed up the beer Carl set before him. “I am.” He grinned and chugged the drink.

  ***

  Wade and Axel were bad enough on their own, but things always got worse when Byrd showed up. He was a couple years older than Wade, and when he was around, he was the alpha. Even Wade listened to him. Angel wasn’t sure how they got hooked up with Byrd, or where he even came from really. Wade had just showed up one day with the man in tow, saying something about meeting him at the bar, and he was cool. That was about six years ago, right after Wade and Axel’s dad, Wayne, had died in a drunk driving accident.

  For a brief moment, Angel had been sure things would get better after that. Wayne had been his and Maddy’s stepdad, and their sole provider when their mom had passed away when Maddy was eight and Angel was eleven. The man had no real use for them–but neither had their mother really. She had met Wayne when he’d come by to buy some crack from her and Gary, Angel and Maddy’s real father. Angel vaguely remembered him, and didn’t care for the memories he did retain. The man had been weasely and sometimes looked at Angel in ways that had scared him. But Wayne had run him off when he’d decided he wanted to fuck their mom. Angel hated Wayne, but at least the guy had had no sexual interest in young boys.

  Then when Wayne died, Angel was convinced he and Maddy would be taken into the custody of the state. Anything had to be better than where they were at. But Wade was almost twenty by then and the state seemed to have no qualms about leaving them in that home.

  Angel glanced across at Maddy now. The boy lay on his back on his bed, headphones on and his old Walkman blasting as loud as it could go. Angel realized they were way behind the times. The only music Maddy had were some old cassettes and that Walkman that Angel had bought for a couple bucks at a second hand shop.

  His eyes lingering on his little brother, Angel leaned his back against the bare wall. The bedroom was grungy, like the rest of the apartment. A couple mattresses on the hard, bare floor for beds. A pillow case stapled over the window for a curtain. And the constant stale stench of rats, seeping out of the large hole in the wall near the floor in the far corner of the small room. The skittering of the vile little creatures inside the walls never ceased, and at night Angel could hear them venturing out into the bedroom. But he was used to rats–both the rodent and human versions.

  A sudden burst of raucous laughter erupted from the kitchen. Angel looked at the bedroom door. There were no locks. Not even a chair to wedge under the door handle. He could hear Byrd’s deep voice as he spoke much louder than necessary, as they always did when they started drinking. Angel hated it when he was here. He was the one who had planted the idea in Wade’s head that maybe his little brothers weren’t totally useless.

  ***

  The empty beer bottle shattered in the sink. “This is fucking great.” Wade muttered and grabbed up a fresh bottle of beer then dropped into the hard kitchen chair. Empty cigarette packs and overflowing ashtrays littered the table, along with an array of empty beer cans and bottles. He snapped off the cap of the bottle and flicked it across the kitchen. “What the fuck are we supposed to do with these little shits?” He chugged the beer then wiped h
is mouth. “Raise them as our fucking own?”

  Axel said nothing. He clearly knew better than to make remarks when Wade was pissed off.

  Huddled on the worn sofa with Maddy, thirteen-year-old Angel hugged his little brother close and tried to keep his focus on the television screen, most of which was snow mottling the picture, but behind which cartoon characters went through their antics. Angel cast discreet glances at his stepbrothers and their new friend, Byrd, lounging at the kitchen table.

  “Fuck.” Wade snorted and thumped a cigarette butt out of one of the ashtrays. “If they were girls, we could at least pimp them out to horny men and make a butt load of cash.”

  Axel chuckled and took a drag off a cigarette, shooting a quick look into the small adjoining living room. “Yeah.” He grunted. “No shit. Angel would be just the right age too. Lots of guys out there who would love to get their dicks in some young virgin pussy. So tight and hot. Mm!” He shook his head and grinned. “Fuck, it’s giving me a boner just thinking about it.”

  “A bitch dog in heat would give you a boner.” Byrd drawled, then smirked.

  “Fuck you, asshole.” Axel sneered but laughed anyway.

  Byrd’s eyes settled heavily on Angel, and he tried not to look at the guy. When he spoke, his words were directed at Wade. “Why do they have to be girls?” he wondered. “There’s plenty of horny perverts out there who prefer a tight little boy ass to shove their cock in.” He sucked on a half spent cigarette, gaze resting on Angel. “You could still make a shit load off their sweet little asses.” He chuckled low. “Literally.”

  Fear coursed through Angel when Wade looked at him and Maddy. “You serious?”