Trouble
Beckett Swift
Kindle Ebook Edition
Copyright 2013 Beckett Swift
License Notes
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Contents
Chapter1: Quentin
Chapter 2: Byron
Chapter 3: Byron’s Troubles
Chapter 4: Confrontation
Chapter 5: Byron and Quentin
Chapter 6: Conflict
Chapter 7: Fast Driving
Chapter 8: The Moment of Truth
Chapter 9: The Chase
Chapter 10: Overcoming Obstacles
Chapter 11: Final Confrontation
Chapter 12:Finale
Chapter 1: Quentin
It was a fine day with the azure sky giving off pleasant emotions for Quentin as he jogged from Tracey High with his school knapsack firmly behind him. Although he had a car, he jogged every alternate day as a way of keeping fit. He hoped he would see Byron on the way. He often jogged too. Apart from the pleasant greetings, they hadn’t interacted much. He sensed that Byron felt tense in front of him although he tried hard to hide this.
He thought he saw Russ by the roadside looking into the wooded park jogging area. Russ was always hassling him because his grandparents who looked after him were a gay couple. He had recently moved to CA from Indiana. They lived in the Hollywood area and he had hoped that people would be more tolerant. Most people were tolerant except for the bigots who existed everywhere, Quentin shrugged.
He noticed two of Russ’s friends cutting through the wooded area. That was odd. He didn’t realize that Russ and his gang were nature lovers or liked jogging too. They were quickening their pace. It looked like they had come in by car.
Now he had a sense of danger. He felt he had been too casual and the premonition of trouble came with the realization that they were there to waylay him. He had seen the hatred in Russ’s eyes whenever he looked at him or made contemptuous remarks. He felt he was too naïve not to realize that Russ wanted to hurt him emotionally and physically. He wanted to see the pain and fear in his eyes. His grandparents had always told him to see the good in people. This was going to be a shock because Russ wanted him to see the prejudices that existed in him!
Quentin realized that they had planned this in advance.
“I can’t stand fag families,” Russ had said to him in a biting tone just before he left school. “They get on my nerves and make me sick.” He had spat out the words with such intense venom.
“What do you hate about my grandparents?”
“They’re both male and are fakes pretending to be your mum and dad. I’ll want to send them a signal that we don’t approve of this.”
“They are loving people and have not done anything to hurt you.”
“They are different from us.”
“You hate them because you’re seeing them through the eyes of prejudice.”
“That’s just rich. You’re giving me a lecture!”
Quentin had thought that by talking things over with Russ, his phobia would subside. But he had underestimated Russ’s hatred and obsession to hurt him.
“And I don’t want you talking to Nat.” (Natalie was Russ’s girlfriend.)
“Be reasonable Russ, we’re all in the same home room. It’ll be odd if I don’t say anything to her at all.”
“Keep away from her at all times. You’re spreading tales about me.” (Natalie did not approve of Russ’s homophobia and had told him to stop but he continued to hassle Quentin.)
For some strange reason, Quentin wished Byron was here. He usually jogged around this wooded park area. He’d know how to deal with these kinds of difficult situations. But that wish was futile as Byron was in recent times becoming uneasy with him. Quentin resolved to iron out his issues with him but at this moment he needed to come out of this tense situation without getting hurt!
“I don’t know what your game is whether you want to change Nat to be like you,” he had said. (Quentin had been horrified that Russ would make such a suggestion.)
Two of Russ’s friends who were ahead of him were now coming towards him at a brisk pace. He knew this area very well and could make a run for it.
But then, he felt he couldn’t keep running all his life. It was time for General Custer to make a stand, even if was his last one!
As Russ and his group came towards him, he felt a strange calmness. One of Russ’s friends, Stan pushed him roughly to the ground. Another friend, Ricky, kicked him in the stomach. Bugsy (he was not sure if that was a nickname as everyone called him that) held him up.
“We hate fags,” Russ said. “After this lesson, you’ll be straight.” He looked Quentin over. “You like the Clippers?” Russ asked as he threw his snapback to the ground. He stressed the word ‘like’ as if to imply that he liked them in a sexual way. “We’d like to play gridiron with you,” he said in a feigned gentle voice.
“Russ can we talk this over? I’ve nothing against you and I’ve never done anything to hurt you.”
Russ punched him in the mouth.
“I hate your phobia and your prejudice. All of you,” Quentin screamed.
“Just tell us that you hate your grandparents and we’ll let you go.”
“I love them with all my heart and soul,” Quentin said with great conviction. His mouth was bleeding.
As Stan and Ricky smirked and came forward, Quentin reacted instantly, pushing Bugsy aside and kicking Ricky in the groin. He buckled over squealing in pain. He dived at Stan, head butting him to the ground.
Russ came flying at him and he swerved. He was able to connect one punch to his jaw. Russ fell unceremoniously with a hard thud.
They overcame their momentary shock and charged as one body with a vengeance.
Byron’s voice could be heard loudly and clearly in the distance like a blunt knife slicing through meat with some difficulty. “No Russ. Let him go.” He was running faster. ”Don’t do anything foolish.”
“I can do anything I want,” he said as he slapped Quentin viciously on the cheek and punched him in the stomach as the others held him. He punched him on the face again.
Byron tore through the pack of hungry hyenas. “Stop it! You’re all crazy,”
“Are you okay,” he said in a gentle voice as he examined Quentin.
“We want to play with him,” Russ said,
“Over my dead body,” Byron screamed.
“Are you two an item?” Russ said.
Byron was flabbergasted. He turned to Quentin and whispered, “You’re going to keep running ahead as soon as I face them.”
“But I can’t just leave you alone here.”
“I can take care of myself. Please go.”
Quentin was torn between the desire for freedom and concern for Byron and was unwilling to leave. He sensed that the fight was all about him and his absence could defuse the tense situation.
“I can deal with them if you’re not around,” he said sounding desperate. “Please just go.”
“I’ll call for help,” Quentin whispered.
Byron turned to the hyenas.
‘I’m sick and tired of your bullying”
“You let him go!” Russ cried incredulously. He bounded towards him and slapped him on the cheek, “Ga
y lover! You spoilt our fun.”
Byron looked into his eyes and realized with great alarm that he was drugged. He didn’t know what they had taken but they were certainly not acting normally.
“I called the cops. Now get moving,” he shouted at them.
“We haven’t finished with you,” he said as he lunged at Byron suddenly and swung a vicious jab to his jaw.
Byron didn’t realize how long he lay on the ground.
He regained consciousness. He was shivering.
He felt dizzy as Quentin hovered around him and held him up.
Byron’s mind cleared, he became tense seeing Quentin hug him in brotherly fashion.
“Are you coming on to me?”
“No!” he said in disgust. “You’re shivering!”
Byron realizing he had over reacted tried to make amends. “Sorry I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ve got a lot going through my head.”
Quentin gave him his wind breaker which he accepted gratefully. He wished Quentin would put his arms around him but realized his rash comment had put a stop to that.
He liked Quentin. He had gay feelings. He just didn’t know how to come out.
Chapter 2: Byron
Byron returned from Tracey High School and as usual was confronted with a sprawling home manned by Mexican helpers. They were all very nice and helpful. Juanita asked if he wanted some snacks and he said he’d get a Pepsi from the fridge. He was embarrassed with being served. He went to his room and played Bruno Mars’s Locked Out Of Heaven. ‘Oh Yeah, yeah,’ he paraphrased the lyrics. ‘That’s right. I’ve never had much faith in love or miracles.’
Located on the hills north of Los Feliz Boulevard, the entire building reeked of the pompous air of a transplanted English manor. There was a time when they had all lived happily in a nice middle class home in Silver Lake. Then his dad had suddenly become rich. He bought a showpiece home to let the world know that he had arrived. This ostentatious show of filthy rich money had taken a hit on his marriage. His parents had begun to argue a lot (usually about other women in his life) and there had been the unbearable silence between people who were no longer in love.
His mum had moved on and he was left here with his dad and this pretentious manor. He had been thankful his dad had not hired a fake butler with pseudo English mannerisms. Byron hated pretensions of any kind partly because he was surrounded by it.
Often alone with the servants, he felt the deafening silence of the high ceilings and the spacious rooms. This home was like a constipated obese person and the air inside sometimes made him feel like he was having stomach cramps. It had 3D wall panels that played with lights and shadows. It was supposed to give the home a cool futuristic feeling. In the absence of his dad he sometimes felt he was in the movie Inception waiting to go to the next level of fantasy or be lobotomized or put to sleep or both! He was just thankful that the house didn’t have sleazy features like mirrored ceilings. There was the Jacuzzi and the water beds and Byron was relieved his dad did not bring his lovers home. He’d heard rumors of them but had not seen them yet. They were supposed to be starlets and society women bored with their opulent lifestyles.
His dad worked as a financier for Hollywood movies. He was rarely at home as he was busy kowtowing with the moguls, producers and directors. Occasionally they came home for parties. He hated meeting them. His dad’s circle included people with perfect teeth and false smiles. They all looked awesome because they had gone through botox treatments, liposuctions and the whole raft of plastic surgery procedures. Now that he thought about it, the 3D wall panels were appropriate given that his dad worked in a place where fiction (bullshit) walked and money talked. He sometimes had the surreal feeling that he lived in a movie fantasy land.
As his dad grew richer, Byron became lonelier.
That particular afternoon, the 16 year old had a shocking moment of revelation when he looked in the mirror and was confronted by his almost cherubic face with the flawless eyes, mouth and nose that looked like it was designed by a clever software program. His face which uncannily resembled his dad’s handsome features seemed like some of the movie people that his dad kowtowed to; like it had been created in the same factory! It had a fake status symbol feel to it and he was unsettled that his dad always showed him off to the guests before he went back into his room.
He was also uneasy that Quentin was often looking admiringly at him and using every opportunity to try and befriend him. He didn’t want to give the impression of over reacting to a perhaps harmless approach for friendship. Given the personal issues he was going through, he hoped that Quentin would give him some space.
Byron had a secret. Although his mind tried to deny it, his body always felt warm and good in the presence of other boys. He was gay and he didn’t know how to handle it. He had liked defending Quentin and liked it even more when Quentin had hugged him. It made him feel warm, accepted and liked. He was cursing himself for making such an awful comment. He blamed his parents who were forever saying that he would grow up to be successful and they’d have grandchildren. He blamed the world that thought gays were abnormal.
He was still forming his self identity and was unconsciously trying to remove traces of pretensions. His face resembled the kind of uncaring bullshit that his dad represented. To make things worse, he was hardly there for him. After the ‘show and tell’ with the guests, he ignored him.
He was always reminding Byron that many teens would be happy to be in his place as he had everything he wanted. But he didn’t care if millions of them would have given away a limb to get what he had. The home had a swimming pool, a gaming room, a shooting range, transparent TVs, piped music gadgets, motion sensing lights and other advanced home techs. He had the latest iphone and every cool teen gadget that was available on the market.
Once he had pleaded; “Dad can I see you more often and can you work out something with mum? I’d give up everything in this house to see you get back together.”
His father had looked at him sadly but had left him thinking deeply about how the divorce was affecting his only son.
Byron wasn’t happy with his face looking back snottily from the mirror. He had been holding back his anger, bitterness, loneliness and sadness. It was all compressed inside him and was ready to erupt.
Lately he had taken to improving his shooting skills. His dad made sure he fired blanks. Somehow he had gotten his hands on real bullets and had started shooting small colorful objects and the occasional stray cat. This new hobby had alarmed the house staff. Juanita had talked to his dad. She had also talked to Byron and had confided that she knew how he felt and was saying the rosary for him to our ‘Lady of Perpetual Help’. Byron had hugged her and this had greatly pleased the matronly woman. In her own fumbling way, she was acting like a mother to him. He promised her not to shoot anymore stray animals.
He looked at his handsome features in the mirror and was filled with an overwhelming hatred for what it represented.
He felt unloved. He took a chair and smashed the mirror. He was pleased to see his face looking back at him like a jigsaw puzzle shaped in sharp jagged pieces.
In a moment of recklessness he put on a Lakers vest and jeans and went to the small park not far from his home with a bottle of Johnny Walker in a brown paper bag.
He sat for a long time on the bench unconsciously taking generous swigs of the whisky. For some strange reason, he started seeing Quentin smiling. He wondered what it would be like if they got married and adopted a baby. The thought embarrassed him and he wondered if he had excess hormones that were making him frisky. If whisky inspired these images, he thought he might be better off sticking to ginger ale. The baby started screaming and he put his hands to his ears. His greatest wish before he lapsed into unconsciousness was for the earth to swallow him.
Chapter 3: Quentin’s Troubles
Quentin was a newcomer to Santa Monica, LA. He remembered his mum as a short chubby attractive woman with intense eyes. She died when he was 14
years old. His father a popular doctor with a very busy practice was too busy to look after him. In fact his birth had been an accident. He had not wanted children. He remembered his parents having a fight when he was a child because he wanted to send him to boarding school and she had resisted. He mixed in high society and loved the glamour of parties and hobnobbing with the rich and socially connected. Children were a hindrance to his social climbing strategies. They “are not needed in our lives,” he had said in an unguarded moment. This child “was an accident,” he had said coldly. With the death of his mum, Quentin had been sent to boarding school. It hadn’t worked out well and as a last resort he had been sent to his maternal grand dad, Bradley, in LA. He was a war veteran who lived in a gay relationship with Mathias. Quentin had just been enrolled into Tracey High. His dad sent him money to buy most things he wanted. His only condition was that he was not seen or heard in his life. He was just to busy and there was so much money to make.
Quentin’s mind was preoccupied. He was gay and he liked Byron. He sensed that Byron liked him too. He admired Byron for standing up for him but was rattled at the way he had lashed out at him. Was he rushing Byron into a relationship that he was not ready for? Was Byron hetero? All these thoughts whirled through his mind.
His grand dad stood over him in the dark. He knew that Quentin had been crying in his bedroom. The moonlit night showed a boy so much in pain.
“You must let go son,” he said.
“He never loved me,” Quentin said bitterly
“The world can be a cruel place,” he said gently. “But there are always good people everywhere who care.”
.”He said my birth was an accident.”
“It was a terrible thing to say. But your birth was not an accident,” his grand dad said fiercely. “You were born with a purpose in life. Never forget that Quent.”
Quentin got up and faced the window, “I hate him! I hate him!” he shouted.
Trouble (YA Gay Coming of Age / Romance Series) Page 1