by Pearl Love
“You know this one?” Lucille asked.
Jeremy nodded. “Oh, yeah. Although….” He tilted his head and listened carefully. “This isn’t Ellington’s recording, is it?”
“My, my,” Lucille breathed. “You do have a fine ear on you. No, indeed. That’s my daddy’s band playing. He dabbled on the piano as well when the occasion called for it.”
“They’re amazing.” Jeremy moved his fingers, unconsciously pantomiming the clarinet line in time with the recording.
“What do you play?” Lucille glanced knowingly at Jeremy’s hands. “You’re in the band with Tyrell, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. I play clarinet.”
“Like Benny Goodman?” Lucille clasped her hands together, her face bright with interest.
Jeremy nodded. “Yep! He’s one of my musical heroes.”
“That’s simply wonderful. It’s so nice to know not all of you young people listen to that noise they call music these days. All about drugs and big-bootied hoes,” Lucille continued disapprovingly.
Jeremy was still gasping with shocked laughter when Tyrell returned with their drinks.
“Um, you okay?” Tyrell asked. He raised an eyebrow when Jeremy could only nod in response. “Anyway, Big Momma, is it okay if we take some of your CDs to my room? Jeremy and I are trying to pick some songs for his new jazz ensemble at school.”
“Of course. Take as many as you like.”
Jeremy went over to where Tyrell was rifling through a gigantic portfolio.
“I organized these myself,” Tyrell explained. “Everything is by year of recording, so we can just grab everything—”
“How about between 1940 and 1945?” Jeremy suggested. “Let’s start with that.” He turned back toward Lucille while Tyrell began pulling various CDs free of their sheaths. “Thank you, so much, for letting us borrow these, Big Momma.”
“You’re welcome, baby. That necklace you’re wearing sure is pretty.”
Jeremy blinked and glanced down at his pendant. “Oh, uh, thanks. It was a gift from my brother.”
“That’s nice,” she said, “though you shouldn’t rely on it so much.”
Tyrell stopped his search and turned to look at his grandmother with a baffled frown. Jeremy spared him a quick glance before staring at Lucille in equal confusion.
“Rely on it?” Jeremy asked.
Lucille nodded. “It’s a crutch you don’t need. All you need is each other.” Her gaze was deadly serious as she looked at both of them in turn. “Your powers are great, but you’ll be even stronger when you’re truly together.”
“Big Momma, what are you talking about?” Tyrell sounded as disturbed by Lucille’s non sequitur as Jeremy felt.
Lucille squinted at Tyrell. “What about what?” she asked, looking utterly bewildered by his question. Suddenly her expression cleared, though she looked tired. “You done gathering up those discs, baby? Why don’t you go on to your room? I think I’m going to lay down for a nap.”
She was already making herself comfortable when Jeremy finally remembered his manners.
“Uh, thanks again, ma’am. I mean, Big Momma.”
“Come on,” Tyrell whispered. “She’s already gone.”
Indeed, Lucille’s eyes were closed, and her breathing was slow and heavy. Jeremy shook off his disquiet long enough to help Tyrell carry the CDs he’d taken out of the portfolio. Tyrell closed the door to his grandmother’s room softly before leading the way to the door closest to the living room. It was ajar, and he nudged it open with his foot since his hands were full.
To Jeremy’s relief, Tyrell’s bedroom wasn’t any neater than his was before Monica blackmailed him into cleaning it every month or so. A forty-inch flat screen sat in the corner, but except for a bureau and a desk, the only other furniture was two double beds. Tyrell must share the room with his little brother, he guessed. Neither of the Hughes boys seemed to be a fan of decorations. The walls were mostly bare save for the gigantic posters of Michael Jordan and Sammy Sosa that took up nearly the entire surface opposite the bed.
“Sorry about that,” Tyrell mumbled once Jeremy had entered behind him. “She’s sometimes not all there.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Jeremy crooked his lips in a sympathetic smile. “My dad’s dad was like that before he passed. At least she seems pretty strong.”
Tyrell laid his bundle of CDs on his desk and nodded. “Hopefully, she’ll be with us for a long time yet. I don’t know what we’d do without her, especially Mom.”
Jeremy rested the CDs he’d brought from Lucille’s room next to the pile Tyrell had made. Picking one at random, he read the label. “This has some good stuff on it.”
“Give it here.” Tyrell took the CD and slipped it into the disc drive of the laptop sitting on the desk. After a few clicks of the mouse, music played out of the speakers he’d hooked into the audio output. Tyrell listened for a moment, bopping his head. “I like this one. What is it?”
“‘Life Goes To A Party.’ Another Benny Goodman classic.” Jeremy smiled. “This’ll be perfect.” He glanced over Tyrell’s shoulder at the playlist that had popped up on the music app. “The next one is good too.” He clicked over to the next song and hummed along to a spirited rendition of “Bei Mir Bist Du Schön.” “We’ll need a singer, though, if we want to play it.”
Tyrell smirked. “Would you believe me if I told you Cynthia isn’t a half-bad singer?”
“Really?” Jeremy shook his head. “I never would have guessed. Isn’t she all about sports?”
“Yeah, but she’s in the gospel choir at her church. She’s pretty good. We can ask if she’d be interested.”
Jeremy grinned. “That’d be great.” He watched as Tyrell shuffled over to the bed nearest the door and sat down. Uncertain whether or not he should follow suit, he remained standing awkwardly by the computer. The next song started, the music soft and sultry.
Tyrell lay down and rested one hand on his stomach while he stuffed the other beneath his pillow. “This one’s pretty slow, but it might be good to have a mix.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Jeremy replied absently. He was concentrating fixedly on the laptop screen and trying not to think about the fact that Tyrell was lying in bed mere feet away. He’d accepted that they would never be more than friends, but that was enough for him, or so he’d thought. Too bad his hormones hadn’t quite gotten the message.
“What’s the title?” Tyrell asked.
“‘’Round Midnight.’”
Tyrell closed his eyes and tapped his fingers on his stomach lightly as he listened.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “Your grandmother has quite the impressive collection. We should be set for the next two years if the group lasts that long.”
“That’d be nice,” Tyrell murmured.
Jeremy was wondering if he were falling asleep when Tyrell patted the bed next to him.
“Have a seat. We can just let the CD play through.”
Bad idea, Michalak. Really bad idea!
“Yeah, okay.” Jeremy walked over to the bed and sat lightly, trying not to disturb Tyrell as he settled on the mattress.
Tyrell opened his eyes a crack and looked up at him. “It’s creepy, you looming over me like that. Lay down.”
Jeremy let out a sound of amusement, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “Sorry. Scoot over, then.” He eased himself down on the bed once Tyrell had complied.
They listened to the music for a while in silence. Tyrell took his hand from beneath his pillow and moved it so it rested near his hip. Jeremy’s fingers were inches away. Jeremy stretched his fingers apart, holding his breath when they brushed softly against Tyrell’s. Tyrell didn’t move, so he left his hand where it was.
“I like girls, you know.”
Somehow, Jeremy wasn’t surprised at the unsolicited comment. After Tyrell’s behavior the other day, he’d realized Tyrell had guessed his secret but was seemingly okay with it. He didn’t want to hope for anything, but
he couldn’t help himself. He angled his head so he could see Tyrell, whose eyes were closed again. “Yeah, I know. Maybe you like boys too,” he said, risking everything.
Tyrell thought about it for a long moment, still not moving his hand. “Can you do that? Like both, I mean.”
Jeremy smiled. “So I’ve heard.”
When Tyrell didn’t respond, Jeremy figured he had his answer to the question he’d never dared ask. Tyrell might not have freaked at the concept of liking boys, but it clearly wasn’t his thing. He tried to convince himself he was merely glad Tyrell was cool with him even if it would go no further than acceptance.
Jeremy braced himself in order to sit up, but he didn’t get far before Tyrell captured his hand in a tight grip. He turned his head and shot Tyrell a startled glance, only to find his lips covered. Tyrell’s lips were full and chapped and utterly perfect, and Jeremy closed his eyes with a needy groan as he surrendered to the impossible kiss.
They never moved beyond that superficial touch of lips. Jeremy didn’t care. He was perfectly content to stay like that for as long as Tyrell allowed it. Not until Tyrell pulled away did he even take time to consider the implications of what they’d done. He could tell Tyrell hadn’t moved far since his breath reflected off something close to him and back onto his face. Finally he gathered his courage and opened his eyes.
Tyrell was looking at him with concern. “I probably should have asked first before I did that. I’m sorry if—”
“No,” Jeremy interjected quickly. “It’s okay.” He smiled. “It’s really okay.”
Tyrell exhaled, and Jeremy could see the tension leave his body. “Cool.” He relaxed into the bed and simply lay there, gazing back at Jeremy. “I thought I’d read you right, that you might like me. But I wasn’t totally sure.”
“You were right.” Jeremy let out a soft laugh. “Was I that obvious?”
“Nah. Not to anyone who wasn’t paying attention.” Tyrell’s amused expression faded into something far more intense. “But I’m always looking at you, so I noticed.” He reached out and took a few strands of Jeremy’s hair between his fingers. “How long have you known you were gay?”
Jeremy was glad Tyrell had finally put the word out there so there would be no lingering misunderstandings. “I don’t know. Since I can remember, I guess. How long have you known you liked girls?”
Tyrell chuckled. “Touché. You’re the first guy I’ve ever wanted to kiss, though.” He smoothed the lock of hair with his fingers as though memorizing the texture. “Your hair is really pretty.”
Jeremy stared at Tyrell’s lips while Tyrell played with his hair. “You think so?” He dragged his gaze up to meet Tyrell’s. “You don’t think it’s too girly?”
“Hell yeah, it is,” Tyrell replied, laughing. “But I like it anyway. So don’t listen to your sister, okay?”
Jeremy felt a tingle of warmth when he realized Tyrell had paid such close attention to his conversation with Lucille. “Okay,” he breathed before taking a chance and leaning closer to Tyrell. He spoke his next words against Tyrell’s lips. “I won’t.”
THE SKY had darkened to a deep indigo blue by the time Jeremy convinced himself it was time to leave. He and Tyrell had spent the day lazing on his bed, kissing and touching and listening to fantastic music. Jeremy was ready to count it as one of the very best days he’d ever had.
“You sure you don’t want to wait for your mom to come and get you?” Tyrell asked. “My mom should be home soon if you want a ride.”
“That’s okay. I can take CTA.” Jeremy tried not to grin like a fool when Tyrell stared at him with a worried expression.
“If you’re sure. You have your cell phone, right?”
Jeremy pulled the device from his pocket and waved it in front of Tyrell’s face. “Right here.”
Tyrell nodded, though he still looked reluctant to let Jeremy leave by himself. “Give me a call once you get home, okay?”
Jeremy laughed. “Yes, Dad. Jeez.”
Tyrell let him go after giving him a final kiss that left him weak in the knees, even though it was relatively chaste. The instructions Tyrell had written down for him were perfect, and one hour and two trains later, Jeremy exited the Red Line station at Belmont. Monica would be upset that he hadn’t called her to come and get him, but he’d wanted time alone to think.
His relationship with Tyrell had gone from zero to blastoff so quickly, he felt dizzy. Was it only yesterday that he’d been so angry he never even wanted to see Tyrell again? And now they were, what? Boyfriends? Dating? They hadn’t discussed how to describe this brand-new thing between them, and Jeremy didn’t want to jinx anything by rushing it too quickly. He was content with the fact that Tyrell seemed to like him as more than a friend, though how much more was still to be determined.
Belmont Avenue was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, so Jeremy walked up one block north, hoping for a little more peace and quiet. He turned right on School and crossed to the north side of the street once he reached Clark. While waiting for the light to change so he could continue east, he hummed a few bars of “’Round Midnight.” It was definitely his favorite song of all time.
Traffic on Clark was also pretty heavy. Jeremy was considering whether to go up to Roscoe where his apartment was or to cut over to Halsted when he realized he’d already turned onto Buckingham Place, the street before Roscoe. The street was mainly residential, so there was little car traffic. Jeremy paused, wondering why he’d come this way. He shrugged and decided to continue on to Halsted since he was already committed.
An alley opened off the street heading north, and Jeremy knew from having lived in the area for years that it went all the way through to Roscoe. He could go that way and save some time, but he wasn’t overly fond of walking through the alleys after dark. His neighborhood wasn’t particularly crime-ridden, but the density of bars in the area occasionally attracted the drunks looking for trouble. Besides, his last experience in an alley had been anything but pleasant. So when he found himself standing in the cut-through that ran parallel to Roscoe and Buckingham along the backs of the residences, he wondered what in the hell he was doing there.
“Okay, Michalak. This is weird,” he mumbled to himself, having no memory of having walked there.
He was barely a block from home, but for whatever reason, his feet seemed determined to veer him off his chosen path. The only other time that had happened was when….
The nauseating stench hit his nose at the same moment as the already dim alley grew even darker. He groaned as his stomach twisted, threatening to spill its contents onto the asphalt. Jeremy felt an acute sense of déjà vu. The last time he’d felt this sick was behind the building where that UIC student’s body had been found. Terrified he was about to stumble upon a corpse, he spun around, only to realize he’d gone even farther down the alley than he’d thought. The only objects he could make out through the gloom were the trash dumpster a few feet away from him on the right and the chain-link fence it abutted. The sickening smell came from that direction, and he desperately hoped it was merely the smell of rotting garbage. He froze at the sight of the dumpster, scared to look any closer lest he see a pair of legs sticking out from beneath it à la the Wicked Witch of the East.
The growling started faint but rapidly grew in intensity. The inhuman sound raised every hair on the back of his neck as a wave of torrid heat washed over him.
“Hello?” he gasped. “Is someone there?”
The growling faded, but Jeremy could still hear it. Gathering his courage, he inched forward toward the far side of the dumpster.
“If you’re nothing but a dumb stray dog, I’m going to kill you,” he muttered unconvincingly, certain it wouldn’t be anything so innocuous.
He didn’t even notice that his pendant had begun to glow until he finally saw what had been making the unearthly sound.
“Holy shit!”
The creature glared up at him when he came into view, its eyes glowing a ma
levolent red. Slime dripped from the rows of needlelike teeth lining its mouth as it hissed. The creature wasn’t very big, no larger than an eight-year-old child, but its compact form rippled with muscle as it flexed the sharp, dagger-length claws jutting from the ends of the three thick fingers it boasted on each hand.
Jeremy tripped over his own feet and fell to his butt before he managed to scramble back in horror, his brain unable to process what he was seeing. His parents hadn’t raised him or his siblings to be particularly religious, although Grandmother Michalak had been very much the product of her Polish Catholic upbringing. He’d gone to mass with her a few times when he was younger, and the images of the various saints conquering legions of demons had always fascinated him. While he’d never believed Satan’s spawn roamed the earth, he was rapidly rethinking that assessment.
“Holy shit,” he repeated, his voice reedy as if the air had been knocked out of him.
“Seeeeeennnnnnngggggg!”
Jeremy yelped at the creature’s sibilant howl. The utterance sounded as though it had ripped its way out of the thing’s throat.
“Seeeennnnnnggggggggaaaaaaa!”
“What do you want?” Jeremy shouted.
The creature lunged at him, swiping in his direction with his talons.
Jeremy scrambled back to a safer distance. “Keep away from me, you freak!”
When the creature didn’t follow, he began to understand that the thing wasn’t really after him. He squinted, trying to see through the shroud of darkness that had settled around them. His pendant glowed brighter, allowing him to see the body lying prone at the creature’s grotesque feet.
“Oh my God.” Jeremy couldn’t see much, but he could tell the figure was that of a young man. “Get away from him.” He felt a rock beneath his palm, and he picked it up and hurled it at the creature. “I said, leave him alone!”
The light that burst from the pendant was even brighter than when he’d failed to save that girl. The creature howled, this time in pain. Jeremy opened his mouth to shout again, but instead of a frightened yell, a pure, crystalline note issued from his throat. The pendant pulsed again, as though it were feeding the sound directly into Jeremy.