The Bad Seed

by Lee Hayes

  “I appreciate your thoughts and your apology. I’m sorry, too.”

  “Cool. Now that we got all that shit out of the way, what are you doing?”

  “Having a glass of wine and watching TV.” The sound of the doorbell ringing broke up their conversation.

  “Hold on, Lorenzo; somebody’s at my door.”

  “Oooooh, you have company. I hope it’s a fine man.” Cross tossed the phone onto the couch and dashed over to the door. When he looked through the peephole, he didn’t see anyone, but he opened the door anyway.

  As soon as the door swung open, Lorenzo jumped out and grabbed him playfully.

  “Lorenzo, what the fuck are you doing? You scared the hell out of me!” Cross pushed him away hard, but his anger quickly gave way to happiness. “What the hell are you doing here, besides trying to give me a heart attack?”

  Lorenzo draped his arms around Cross’s shoulder and led him back into the house, suitcase in tow.

  “Have you lost all of your New York instincts living down here in the country? Never open your door unless you know who’s on the other side. I could have been a serial killer.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah; that still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here.”

  “Do I have to have a reason to visit my best friend?” He dropped his luggage.

  Cross eyed the bag and then looked back up at Lorenzo. “No, but a little notice would be nice.”

  “Why? You ain’t doing shit. After our conversation last night, I figured I’d come down here and help you out, or at least take you out for some fun.” Lorenzo moved deeper into the house, looking around as if it were the first time he’d been there. “Wow, I like what you did to the place. I see you got rid of the carpet and added hardwood floors.” Cross walked behind Lorenzo, who moved about the room like an inspector, scrutinizing every inch of the area, looking for the one piece of evidence that would solve his case. “You’ve redone the entire place and you didn’t tell me.”

  “I needed a project.”

  “You need a life, but you’ve done good, little one; you’ve done good with the redecoration,” Lorenzo said with laughter.

  They moved into the den where Cross had previously set up camp.

  “Why don’t you pour me a glass of whatever you’re drinking?”

  Cross pulled a glass from the cabinet and poured a glass.

  “You’ve been checking out my house, now it’s my turn to check you out. Look at you, with all your designer duds.” Cross playfully circled him, looking him up and down, taking inventory of Lorenzo’s expensive shoes, diamond-studded watch, and designer shirt. “You’re all blinged out. New York must be treating you well.”

  “I’m doing okay. Besides you, I’ve landed a couple other high-profile clients, so my agency is doing well, very well, and since my name is on the marquee, I’m doing well,” he said boastfully.

  “I’m so proud of you; the small town boy has made it big.”

  “Don’t act like we don’t share the same story. Shit, we went to high school together. And, if you hadn’t written your first book while we were in college, I wouldn’t be this extraordinary agent you see standing before you.”

  “Well, if you hadn’t secretly read it and decided, on your own, that it needed to be published and hustled it to every publisher in New York City, while pretending to be a legitimate agent, then I wouldn’t be the world renowned author you see before you.” They both did a silly curtsy to each other and burst out into laughter. “You are so silly.”

  “My silly ass got you your first big book deal, didn’t I?”

  “That you did, my friend.” Cross raised his glass in celebration. “Here’s to a bright and shiny future, for both of us.”

  They tapped their glasses together and took a celebratory sip. Indeed, they both had come a long way from their humble beginnings.

  “I know you have a lot going on, but one of my boys in Atlanta told me about this new restaurant and I made reservations for us at nine-thirty,” Lorenzo interjected. “We’re going to go out, have a good time, and not think about…unpleasant things.”

  “But—”

  “But, nothing. I don’t care if you’ve already eaten or what kind of excuse you have. I’m getting you into the city for a boy’s night out. We’re going to party and bullshit and party and bullshit,” Lorenzo sang as he threw his hands above his head and started rocking his lean body to his own beat. “Now, while you are getting ready, I’ll move my stuff into the guest room.”

  “You aren’t gonna take no for an answer, huh?” Cross asked with folded arms.

  “You know me so well.”

  “You know what? After the drama I had last night, I deserve some fun. So, what is this fabulous restaurant that we’re going to?”

  “Now, that’s the Cross I know and love. My boy is back!” Lorenzo did a little dance in mock celebration. “I think it’s called Misty Blues; it’s supposed to be the new trendy spot.”

  After a few cocktails and a light dinner at Misty Blues, Lorenzo instructed Cross that they’d be venturing to a new club—PuRE—located across the street from the restaurant. They ate and drank and laughed and reminisced about the days gone by. They talked of their times when they were in New York City, drinking at the Hangar on Christopher Street or chilling at Splash in Chelsea. Back then they were young, gay, and carefree and they consumed life voraciously. Cross missed those days but was happy that he had settled into a more stable position in life.

  By the time they paid their dinner check, the drinks they had consumed were working on their systems. Cross hadn’t felt so free in many months. They dodged traffic on Peachtree Street and made it safely to the club. As the dynamic duo approached the door of the club, the line had already begun to form and patrons anxiously awaited their turn to go through the perfunctory ID check and pat down. When they approached the line, Cross couldn’t help but notice a tall, dark-skinned man lingering behind the blue, velvet rope, whispering into the ear of one of the bouncers. His face demanded attention and Cross obliged subtly as he gently tucked at Lorenzo’s arm to get his attention. The gentleman, dressed in all black, stood proudly, even while he conversed. As he chatted, he lifted his head and his eyes met Cross’s, who promptly looked away, not wanting to appear eager or even interested.

  “Shit, he saw me,” he murmured to Lorenzo.

  “Who?”

  “Him; him. ”

  “Oh my God,” Lorenzo exclaimed in mockery, “I knew my old friend was still in there somewhere. Guess you just needed the proper stimulus. ”

  “Oh, shut up. Anyone can see that man is fine.”

  “And, he’s still looking at you.”

  Cross looked up as they reached the barricade and smiled at the man. He suddenly felt awkward and unsteady, not sure why he was smiling at the man and not sure how to react if the man spoke to him.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said with a smile that sparkled up the darkened night. “I hope you have a good time at the club tonight. We have drink specials all night and for your viewing entertainment, we have some of the hottest dancers in Atlanta later on in the evening. If you need anything, find me and I’ll get it for you,” he said, looking directly at Cross. “Anything.” He winked.

  Cross blushed and proceeded into the club without comment.

  Whew.

  Once inside the club, blue lights and blue velvet couches positioned along the walls gave the entire split-level space the appearance of some swanky lounge that was bathed in swirling light. Some of the lights flickered, adding a strobe-light effect to the room, coating the room with a psychedelic pulse. It was still relatively early, so the place wasn’t packed yet, but there were enough people inside for Cross to feel the vibe. He looked around at the faces of his peers—they were certainly in their element, dancing with freedom and enjoying the company of other like-minded folks. Even though he was roughly the same age as many of the clubbers, he felt out of place, as if the club experience was foreign to
him.

  Lorenzo took him by the hand and led him to the bar in the far corner of the room. The placement of the bar allowed them to get a good view of the men who entered the room. Before he knew it, Cross had a drink in his hand, compliments of Lorenzo, and was sipping a strong concoction that he couldn’t name, but he definitely tasted rum. He sipped and watched people pile into the club, leaving all of their troubles at the door and surrendering to the night.

  “So, what do you think? Are you having a good time?” Lorenzo yelled over the music.

  “So far, so good.”

  “The night is young and I expect you to take full advantage of it. It’s been a long time since we’ve been out together, so let’s have some fun.” Lorenzo suddenly raised his drink into the air, closed his eyes and, as if he had been overcome by a spirit, started swaying his body back and forth in rhythm with the beat. The beat seemed to grow as if it were a sentient being that survived on energy; it became louder and louder with each thump; vibrations rose slowly from the floor, like a spirit resurrected. Cross soon found himself enchanted and overcome with energy. The stimulating atmosphere revived his dormant spirit and he didn’t protest when Lorenzo led him onto the dance floor. The two dipped, popped, twerked, dropped, wiggled and shook everything that could be shaken—careful not to spill their cocktails—as an energy shot through the room like lightning, infusing the growing crowd with vitality and a vivacity that Cross hadn’t seemed in many, many months.

  After about thirty minutes of dancing, Cross abandoned Lorenzo on the dance floor and moved back over to the bar. He grabbed a napkin and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “You look like you were having a good time out there,” a deep voice from behind said to him. Cross turned around and was met with the intoxicating smile of the gentleman who had smiled at him on the way into the club.

  Cross wasn’t sure how to respond. “Yeah, it was fun. I don’t get out that often.” He blushed.

  “Why is that? Your man keeping you tied down, huh?” he said with a hint of flirtation.

  “Nah, nothing like that. I’m not a club person. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that.” Cross tried to keep the butterflies in his stomach at bay, but the flurry of their wings gave him that old feeling.

  “Let me refresh your drink.”

  “That’s okay. I’m fine, really.”

  “Yes, you are.” Cross tried to stifle the smile on his face, but the smooth words of his suitor were music to his ears. He had almost forgotten what a compliment sounded like. He drank the remainder of his drink and placed the empty cup on the bar.

  “Thank you.”

  “Oh, how rude of me. My name is Zeric.”

  “Zeric?”

  “Yes, it’s like Eric, but with a Z. Don’t ask,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Zeric, I’m Cross.”

  “Cross,” he repeated. “Now, that’s an interesting name. Let me get you that drink.” He leaned across the bar and said something to the bartender that Cross failed to decipher. He watched the bartender as he poured various liquids into a shaker and poured it into a blue martini glass. “Here ya go. It’s a bluetini, a specialty of the house.”

  “Thank you. What do you do here at the club? You a bouncer?”

  Zeric took a sip of his drink and smiled. “Nah, I don’t really work here. I help out from time to time when they need me. My cousin owns the joint, though. “

  Cross suddenly felt self-conscious and awkward, as if he had insulted the man.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “No need to apologize.”

  “Well, the club is…impressive.”

  “Not half as impressive as you. I’ve read all of your books,” he said with a sly smile. “I love vampire stories and your novels are so refreshing.”

  Cross almost spit out his drink at Zeric’s confession. Even though he enjoyed some literary stardom, he was always taken aback when he was recognized by the public.

  “Are you serious? I can’t believe you’ve read my stuff and know who I am.”

  “How could I not? The picture of you on the back of your last book is wonderful, but it doesn’t do you justice. You are far more… impressive in person.”

  Cross took a sip of his cocktail to divert the attention. As much as he tried to deny it, that old familiar feeling of falling—falling for the charms, falling for the looks, falling for the swagger of a man—flooded his whole body. He felt a slight buckle in his knees, but managed to brace himself with the bar so that his nervous twitch was imperceptible to anyone else. It had been such a long time since a man had flirted with him—at least a man his own age.

  Cross smiled and looked directly into his face; it carried a dark brilliance that was tantamount to staring into the sun. Even though it made him uncomfortable, he couldn’t look away, even as the fear of being burned made its way into his thoughts.

  “Are you always this charming?”

  Zeric chuckled. “Charming? Nah. I’m trying hard to not act like a total goof in front of my favorite author.”

  Cross smiled and turned his head toward the dance floor. Lorenzo was grinding on some pretty, young thing—just the kind he liked—and seemed to be having the time of his life. Cross watched him and remembered what it felt like to be young, vibrant, and full of energy. He had always admired Lorenzo’s youthful energy and spirit; regardless of what was going on in his life, he could still find time for celebration.

  “So, is he your man?” Zeric asked.

  “Who? Lorenzo? Nah, that’s my best friend. We go way back.”

  “Aight, that’s what’s up; cool. So, the next question is, do you have a man?”

  Cross took a deep breath and smiled. “Nah, I’m completely single,” he said as he held up his hand and wiggled his left ring finger. “If he liked it, then he should’ve put a ring on it.”

  They both burst out into a silly laugh at his very corny pop culture reference. Cross immediately regretted saying it, but their laughter filled the awkward space between what they said and what was left unsaid. This flirtation thing felt good to Cross and it was something he didn’t even realize he had missed during his self-imposed exile.

  “Listen, it’s about time for me to get this show started. Promise not to leave before we speak again.”

  “I promise.”

  Zeric winked at him and moved from the bar, disappearing into a door off to the side.

  A few moments later, sirens could be heard throughout the club as the pace of the flashing lights sped up dramatically. The music quieted and a booming voice that Cross immediately recognized as belonging Zeric poured from the speakers.

  “Gentlemen, welcome to the hottest Saturday night party in the A-T-L! Welcome to Hot Chocolate Saturdays!” His voice screamed throughout the club and was joined by the raucous and joyous noise of the crowd. They cheered and yelled and hollered and clapped and jumped up and down as if Oprah had promised them a new car. “We have the finest selection of men this city has to offer. Now, let’s welcome to the stage our headliner for the night; that’s right, no waiting to see the man you’ve come to know and love. Welcome the one you know as Seduction!”

  People pushed and shoved their way closer, all hoping to get a better view of this highly prized dancer.

  The lights in the club dimmed and an erotically charged hip-hop beat blared from the speakers. Slowly, a figure clad in an all-black body suit and a black mask slinked from behind the curtains. He moved slowly and seductively, making each movement of his body count. The suit he wore left little for the imagination. Even from his distance, Cross could see that every muscle in this man’s body was highly developed and the protruding part of his lower anatomy bulged through the thin suit. Seduction certainly understood the art of seduction as he coiled and rolled his body in ways that made Cross want to reach deep into his pockets and make it rain.

  “Damn, he is fine,” Lorenzo said as he snuck up on Cross from behind, startling his old frie
nd.

  Seduction stood on stage, slowly pulled his arms out of the tight sleeves of the suit, and rolled the whole suit midway down his torso, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest and strong biceps. The crowd begged and pleaded for him to remove the rest of his clothing as dollars began to rain from the crowd. After a few more minutes of tempting his fans, he yanked the suit off and stood on stage in nothing but a red G-string. Money rained down on the stage, but the dancer didn’t bother to pick the bills up; he was too busy having money stuffed into the front of his G-string by an eager fan who looked as if he was doing more than stuffing money in his sacred spot.

  “Damn,” Cross said out loud.

  “Exactly. I wish I was that G-string.”

  “You so ignant. ”

  They laughed and sipped their drinks and continued enjoying the show. Seduction took a seat on the stage and stepped completely out of his G-string, revealing every inch of his naked and glistening body. The crowd went wild as he grabbed his dick and began to stroke himself.

  “Damn!!” Lorenzo exclaimed.

  Seduction hopped back up onto the stage and continued to titillate the crowd with his sensual moves.

  Taut flesh everywhere.

  Smooth skin.

  Chocolate nipples.

  Sculpted abs.

  Thick thighs.

  A raging bulge in his G-string.

  Tribal tattoos etched around solid arms.

  He danced as if his life depended on it and moved for the crowd. He turned his back to the crowd so that they could get an eyeful of his spectacular ass. He flexed and shook his body so that every muscle came to life. Finally, he turned to face the crowd, grabbed his penis, bent forward, and kissed his own dick, sending the crowd into a frenzy for his final display. He took a bow and quickly exited the stage as the stagehand ran out and collected his dollars.