On/Off - A Jekyll and Hyde Story

by Mike Attebery

  Jamie walked down the hall to meet her.

  “Hey, sorry I missed dinner tonight-”

  “Missed dinner? Fuck dinner. I thought you’d at least call first to apologize for this afternoon,” Kelli shouted.

  Jamie stopped short. “What about this afternoon?”

  “The whole storming-out-of class-without-a-word thing!”

  “What?” Jamie hesitated.

  “What ‘what?!’” Kelli said, barely keeping her voice in check. “More like what the fuck?”

  “I didn’t do that.”

  “Yeah,” Kelli said. “You did.”

  Jamie brought a hand to his head, closed his eyes and sucked in a breath of air. “Can we go to my room?”

  Kelli’s expression softened. “Are you all right?”

  “Just feeling a little funny.”

  “Funny how?”

  Jamie couldn’t answer, he just turned and started for his dorm. Kelli walked beside him, reaching for the lights as they closed the door behind them.

  “Could you keep those off? “ Jamie asked as he shielded his eyes.

  “Sure,” Kelli answered, curiousity in her voice.

  She held his arm as he lowered himself down on the bed, then lay on his back, eyes closed.

  Kelli watched him closely. She raised her fingers to his face, tickling his lips with her fingers tips. Her other hand smoothed his forehead. The skin was warm and wet. She slipped her fingers under the edge of his cap, sliding it off. The hair underneath had grown longer, but she could still feel the scars under her fingers.

  She listened to his breathing.

  “Is there anything else I did today?” Jamie asked.

  “I don’t know, Jamie.”

  “Anything else I did that I don’t remember?”

  She didn’t say anything. She had been planning to ask him about Victor. Ask about what her friends had told her earlier. How Jamie had gotten into a shouting match with the guy, used every four letter word in the book until he got his way, until he got a photo lab to work in. But this wasn’t the time. Something was wrong with him. Something was changing, and she didn’t know if he even realized it was happening.

  “Everything is fine,” she said softly.

  Jamie’s breathing grew deeper now. His body was relaxing. His hands lay at his sides, palms up, the fingertips curling inward in loose fists.

  Kelli ran her fingers over the ridges of hard flesh under his short, sweaty hair. She’d have to ask him about the scars soon. She just wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the truth about them.

  Saturday night was nearly perfect, marred only by two incidents, one at the start of the night, the other discovered much, much later. Kelli gave the go-ahead for the party. Actually, she’d told Jamie to do his own thing that night. She had class assignments to work on and was thinking of dropping in on some friends she hadn’t seen recently. The unspoken undertone was that she needed to be on her own for a bit, if only for a night. Stretch the legs, see if she still functioned as an individual. Things seemed all right between them, barring a few incidents of detached, anxious behavior on Jamie’s part.

  Gibson G was atwitter from the outset. Arlin and Vanessa were off to see her family. One rumor was that there had been, or still was, a pregnancy scare between them, and whatever the situation, she’d decided it was time for her parents to meet the guy she’d been “seeing” for the past two years. They were meeting them at Ciao on Jefferson, a place Vanessa felt warranted Arlin’s donning a shirt and tie.

  “I don’t get it man,” Arlin shouted to Jamie over the shower stall.

  Jamie was taking a shower as Arlin stood in front of the mirror, wrestling with his tie.

  “What about meeting a chick’s parents requires me to wear this?”

  “She’s just nervous. She wants you to look nice.” Jamie called back.

  “It’s like I’m hiding behind this little strip of fabric, not letting her folks see what I’m really like or something.”

  Jamie tilted his head up into the hot water spray. It felt great streaming down his face. He wiped his fingers over his eyes.

  “What are you really like?” Jamie asked.

  “Well, you know, I’m not a tie guy. I’m just… the guy their daughter likes to screw around with.”

  “Yeah,” Jamie replied, “I wouldn’t advise sharing that insight tonight.”

  “I’m not an idiot, man!”

  “How’s that tie coming?”

  “Not good man. Not good.” Exasperation was seeping into Arlin’s voice. “Does Fritz know how to do this?”

  “Nah, but he’s got a few ties hanging on his doorknob that I rigged up for him.”

  “Fuck this,” Arlin shouted back. “I’m taking one of Fritz’s.”

  The bathroom door slammed as Jamie turned the hot water higher and closed his eyes. No incidents lately. Mind seemed good. Body was having no problems. He’d gone for a major run that morning. Really pushed himself. No symptoms had surfaced afterward. If anything, the cold air and movement had made him feel better, and that was the whole point, right? He’d come back, caught up on some work, and relaxed for the afternoon. He’d talked to Kelli on the phone earlier, but hadn’t seen her that day. He got the feeling she was a little nervous about him going to the party with Fritz, but neither one of them thought there was anything to worry about. Maybe if their sex life was quieter, or they weren’t so crazy about each other, then the trepidation would have been called for, but hey, that’s relationships. No matter how secure you seem, there’s always that leprechaun of worry on the shoulder, dripping discombobulating poison in your ear. He was gonna stop by her place before they left. Time for a quickie maybe? Jamie smirked. Wishful thinking. He shut the water off, stood in the middle of the steamy shower stall, and felt the water dripping down his body. When a chill caught his skin, sending up a brigade of goose bumps, he grabbed his towel and dried off.

  The rest of the floor was going about the customary Saturday night routine. Doug was in the lounge, lifting one of the couches onto cinder blocks and sliding the other one in front to make the poor man’s stadium theater seating. Another Saturday, another ‘Star Wars’ marathon. By now they could turn off the sound and let Doug say every line for every character himself. Every. Character.

  The first of the evening’s unexpected twists occurred as Jamie rounded the corner to his room, only to see Will standing with his back leaning against the corridor wall. A brown bag paper bag sat at his feet, a DVD was tucked under his arm. His expression told Jamie he wasn’t there to discuss the cinema of Billy Wilder. Jamie stopped in the hall, only a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “What can I do for you, Will?” Jamie asked.

  “Can we talk?” Will responded.

  “Sure, if you don‘t mind me changing.”

  Will shook his head as Jamie walked past him and opened the door. He walked inside, tossed his dirty clothes on the bed, and started going through his dresser drawers.

  “What is it Will?”

  Will stood at the door. Jamie pulled the hat from his head, ducking towards the bed so Will wouldn’t see the scars as he quickly dried his hair. He reached over to the dresser, grabbed another cap from the top, and pulled it on as he turned back to Will, who still hadn’t said a word.

  “Well?” Jamie asked again.

  “You and Kelli, you guys are pretty much, seeing each other, right?”

  Jamie felt the corner of his mouth pull to the side. It was an angry, cocky smile.

  “You might say that, yeah.” He dropped his towel and watched Will’s eyes quickly dart down and up to the far upper corner of the room. “You like her, right? I know that.”

  Will closed his eyes for a moment. Jamie pulled on his boxers and a T-shirt.

  “You’re wondering if we’re serious or not?”

  Will nodded his head. “Yeah.”

  “Do you want me to ‘end the courtship’ if this isn’t forever?”

  Will hesitated. �
��I don’t- I guess I just wanted to know for sure where things stood with you guys, and with…us.”

  “I hope by ‘us,’ you mean you and Kelli.” Jamie watched for the kid’s nod. “You know there’s nothing there, don’t you? You can’t watch movies and drink beer with a girl every couple of months and call that a relationship.

  Then, Jamie wasn’t sure what happened. He remembered Will opening his mouth to speak, could see the expression on the kid’s face as Jamie rushed at him, but aside from the sound of the bag with the beer bottles hitting the floor, everything was a blur. One minute he was standing at the dresser, picking out a pair of pants, the next he had shoved Will against the back of the door, his left forearm to Will’s throat, his right hand clasped to the guy’s chin, as he barked a garble of angry threats in a hushed voice. His right hand pulsated, smacking the back of Will’s head against the door. His forearm pressed into his throat just a bit too hard. He felt something pop under the pressure he was applying. Then, he was standing in the middle of the room, the pounding pressure in his temples fading away. His arms trembled as the adrenaline seeped out of his muscles. Will clasped his hands to his neck, sucked in several gasps of air, then grabbed his things and ran out of the room. Jamie felt his heart in his throat, started to rush after him, then stopped and let him go.

  He finished getting dressed, put on some cologne, and met up with Fritz to head over to the party.

  ***

  Kelli was shanghaied immediately. She’d gone months without seeing Will or enduring the endless evenings devoid of chemistry but filled with old movies. She actually missed it now, the movies and Will. She still had no romantic inclinations for him, but she did like having him as a friend. God, she was going all Sweet Valley High. No point examining every emotional whisper in her head. She was hanging out with Will tonight. No sooner did she tell Jamie to go to that party with Fritz, than an e-mail popped up in her inbox. This time Will had a fresh print of The Apartment that gave him “goose bumps.” Good lord. But she could use the distraction.

  Christie and Joe were at it again, while blaring music the likes of which she had never heard. Christie must have grown tired of wearing her headphones while riding her man into the sunset; now she wanted to share the experience with the floor, or at least with as wide a swath of the building as she could manage. Disturbingly, the noises coming from her roommate’s bedroom had changed over the last few months. Louder squeals, some softer moans, and longer, deeper grumbles of pleasure. Either Christie and Mr. Schlong were exercising their vocal ululations, or they’d made the leap to the next level of cringe-inducing lovemaking.

  As if on cue, a yodeling voice cut through the adjoing wall, a warbling, undulating cat cry of female orgasm. That was not Christie.

  Jesus, they were swinging. Gross.

  Kelli turned on the TV and cranked the volume. Where the hell was Will? Maybe they could go over to Gibson G and watch the movie over there. If they stayed here, Jack Lemmon and Shirley Maclaine would have one hell of a time falling for each other over the racket next door, that was for sure.

  Kelli glanced at her watch. He was thirty minutes late. Not like Will to be late for one of their movies nights, or anything they did together, actually. If anything, she figured he got there early and waited in the hall til he was right on time. She opened the door and glanced out into the hallway. Nothing.

  The voices in the next room were getting louder. Kelli grabbed her jacket and headed for the tunnels. Either Will had forgotten, or he was mad at her for something, again. Christ.

  ***

  The usual gang was there. Jamie recognized Chris “Big Red” right away. Joe and Matt aka “Ron Jeremy” and “Slick Willy” took a moment or two to place; the lack of jerseys made the names more elusive.

  Joe was drunk already. He walked over to Jamie, a plastic cup of beer tilting back and forth in his hand.

  “So, ya pledgin’ next quarter?” he slurred.

  Jamie pulled his hands from his pockets, ready to deflect Joe’s drink if it came tumbling toward him. “I’m not planning on it at the moment,” he replied.

  “Ah, come on, ya gots to, man. Ya gots to.”

  Jamie nodded his head. “We’ll see, dude. Maybe.”

  “Maybe’s good enough for me,” Joe exclaimed, a shit-faced smile bursting to his face. Then he turned, proudly exclaiming to no one in particular, “Maybe!” He spun around again. “Maybe!”

  Jamie pulled a cup from a stack on the counter and helped himself to a beer. Fritz wandered into the crowd as Jamie made his way to the corner of the room and looked around.

  The party’s opening lull dissipated by eleven. By then, the crowd had swelled considerably, and music and alcohol would work out the rest. The bedroom doors down the hallway were all open. Either none of the brothers were entertaining female guests at the moment, or they were, and they weren’t being shy about it. Probably too early for that yet. However, that would certainly be happening tonight. Just scanning the apartment, Jamie saw one or two couples well on their way to steaming up the room. A closer study of the crowd, and Jamie picked out a familiar face.

  Erica.

  Jesus.

  She was all over some jock on the couch, dryhumping his leg and straddling him as she kissed his neck and nibbled on his ear. If she could hold down her booze for a bit, that guy was guaranteed a blowjob in the bathroom, at a minimum.

  Fritz was on the far side of the room, talking with one of the brothers and bobbing his head to the music. Jamie nodded to him and raised one hand. Fritz nodded back, then turned to watch a couple of blond chicks heading for the back bedroom. With only the slighted hesitation, be began bopping and “whiteman-shuffling” his way through the crowd and heading down the hallway after them. Either one of the guy’s porn fantasies was about to come true, or he was at least about to see something interesting.

  Then, Jamie saw someone he would never have expected at any sort of frat function. Actually, the person tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned around, he was suddenly face to face with Victor. Photo cage Victor.

  “Pepper, right?”

  Jamie nodded his head. “Yeah, what’s up, man?”

  Victor ignored the question as he opened the fridge and slid a twelve pack of Labatt Blue onto the shelf. “Want one?”

  Jamie raised his cup. “No thanks.”

  Victor pulled a bottle from the box and popped the top, taking a long swig as he leaned against the countertop. “So, are you pledging or something?”

  Jamie shook his head, “I’m just here with a friend. You?”

  “Same.” He took another drink. “Just here to drink and scope out the easy pussy.”

  Jamie faked a smile. Something about this guy. What was it? This was not the frat type. Course, neither was he, but Victor, Victor was something else. He was more of the too cool for anything type. Easy pussy indeed. God, the bedroom decorum of this guy, that would be something nightmarish to see. That would be-

  “You liking the program?” Victor asked him.

  “You mean the photo program?” Jamie nodded. “So far.”

  It would certainly be easier if assholes like Victor would let him do his work without banging on lab doors and hassling him about sign-in times. Jamie hadn’t had to deal with the guy much after that initial tour of the facilities, but his one or two interactions with him had still been grating. In fact, he ranted about Victor regularly with the folks in the photo cage line. They universally dubbed him an asshole, but more than one of them had added that he was talented. “He’s got a great eye, you’ve gotta give him that” was the phrase that had come from more than one of their mouths. Jamie had yet to see the guy’s work. He really didn’t want to. It was one thing to hate a guy, it was another thing to hate a guy but envy his talents. That was a complication he didn’t need, especially if Victor’s photos struck him as greater than his own; he was, after all, a painter first; photography was his consolation prize.

  They didn’t have muc
h to say to one another, and it was clear that Victor was as disinterested in searching for common ground as Jamie was. They just stood in the kitchen a few minutes longer, watching the tide of partiers swirling past them. Then someone Victor knew came into the kitchen and reached for the tap. Vic started talking to the guy, then followed him back to a larger group of guests, mostly women, who were standing on the far side of the room. Jamie leaned against the fridge and chugged his beer. He floated over to the tap just as Fritz walked by with a bottle of Patron Silver.

  “Any luck back there?” Jamie nodded towards the back hall.

  Fritz just smiled.

  “Shall we kick this up a notch, my friend?”

  Jamie eyed the bottle warily. “I don’t know. Shall we?”

  Fritz set two shot glasses on the counter with a flourish, pulled the cork from the tequila bottle, and quickly filled each glass to the rim. Fritz raised one of the glasses to his lips, motioning for Jamie to do the same.

  “You liking tequila yet?” he asked.

  Jamie shook his head. “Not a bit.”

  Fritz smirked and tossed his head back.

  Jamie followed suit. The tequila splashed up and around the roof of his mouth, washed over his tongue and slid back into his throat. A peppery haze swelled up through his nose. His throat tingled pleasantly. Maybe he was starting to like tequila.

  Fritz watched the expression on his face melt from wary to surprised. “And another,” he said as he took Jamie’s glass and topped it off.

  They grabbed the glasses and threw back another round.

  “Ooh yeah,” Fritz wheezed appreciatively.

  “One more,” Jamie gasped as he wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve.

  Fritz didn’t waver. The glasses were filled one last time, then the bottle was slammed to the counter, the cork replaced with a thump.

  “To good times,” Jamie toasted.

  “To insanity,” Fritz countered.

  The glass was heavy in Jamie’s hand now. He raised it to the light, watching the spirits and the crystal shimmer. The light through the liquid seemed splintered, hotter somehow. He brought the glass to his lips and poured one more savory helping down his gullet. It burned so good. The heat oozed down his throat and blossomed in his belly, the waves of alcohol rising up through his nostrils. The music was pumping now. Everyone around him was dancing. At some point Fritz, undoubtedly feeling his own Patron-induced sense of flight, wandered into the crowd, where Jamie saw him grinding up against a number of gorgeous, albeit interchangeable sorority sisters. Jamie wasn’t one for dancing, but under the influence of the music, and the crowd, and the liquor, he found himself out in the middle of the room, moving him body to the music. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of motion, controlled motion. It was one thing to shake and rattle when you didn’t want to, when something in your head was misfiring, driving you insane, but it was something else to let the music take control, to relax and just go where the mood took you.