Lost & Found

by Ashley John

  In the burning sunlight he squinted at his silver car, which was sparkling in the growing heat. Quickly, he pulled his cellphone from his tight jeans and scrolled through the letters until he landed on 'F'.

  “Finley? Hey it's Oliver. Fancy meeting up? Usual place? See you in an hour.”

  Taking a deep breath, he jumped into his car and headed out of town towards the freeway.

  I'm going to sort this Charlie. I'm not losing you.

  ***

  As Charlie stumbled up the steps of his apartment, the pink walls nearly burned his stinging eyes. Bursting into the apartment, he saw his mother standing at the kitchen sink.

  “Charlie,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “you startled me.”

  She dropped her head back to the sink and busied herself with the washing up, but Charlie could tell something wasn't right. Pushing his own feelings to one side, he switched on his concern.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

  She was still in her pink, silk dressing gown and her hair was matted and sticking up in places. Maybe she's just woken up.

  “I'm fine,” she said, sounding far too happy.

  Something isn't right.

  “Mom?” Charlie whispered, standing next to her at the sink.

  She lowered her face and her messy hair scattered across her left cheek. Gently, Charlie brushed the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear to reveal a dark and fresh black eye.

  “It's not as bad as it looks,” she said as she vigorously scrubbed a plate, “honestly, I can hardly feel it.”

  “Who did this?” Charlie cried, “Was it Finley?”

  “Not quite,” she said shakily, “he sent some of his guys around. It think it was his idea as a warning.”

  Charlie felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't believe somebody had been in his home and hurt his mother.

  I shouldn't have gone back to work. It was too soon.

  “I think we need to go,” Charlie sighed in defeat, “we're not safe here.”

  He knew it would take more than the $100 in his wallet to get them out of their situation.

  ***

  Locking his car, Oliver walked towards 'Neon Zone' clutching the thick envelope.

  “Alright Oliver,” the doorman Jarred said, “he's waiting inside for you.”

  When he wasn't lending people money, Finley ran a string of successful and popular night clubs throughout the state, and the one Oliver found himself at was the one at which he used to meet Finley.

  Leaving the safety of the daylight behind, Oliver smiled politely to the doorman and headed inside of the dark nightclub. The entire place was decorated black. The PVC booths were black, the floor was black, the bar was black and the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling were black.

  Much like Finley's soul.

  Through the dark, he could see him sat in the booth where he was always sat. He'd once told him he could see everything in the club from that one spot because that's how he'd designed it. Oliver often thought it was because it was the only booth big enough to fit his steroid pumped frame.

  “Oliver,” Finley smiled pushing a tall cocktail glass across the table, “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

  Oliver slammed the money down on the shiny black, glass table but he didn't sit next to Finley. Instead, he squared his shoulders and folded his arms.

  “I didn't come for a drink Finley,” Oliver snapped.

  “Then what on earth do you want?” Finley said, seeming already disinterested with the boy stood in front of him.

  “It's about Sarah Rodgers,” Oliver said, “you know that name?”

  “I do,” Finley smiled dryly, downing the clear cocktail in one before slamming the glass on the table.

  A man in a crisp white shirt and a slick, black waistcoat appeared from nowhere and cleared away the empty glass, instantly replacing it with a fresh one.

  “Please, sit down,” Finley said, gesturing to the empty seat next to him, “I do hate it when people turn down my hospitality.”

  Reluctantly, Oliver slid on to the PVC which creaked under his weight. He stared at the drink and took a sip of it.

  I'll play by your rules Finley.

  “I want to pay Sarah's debt,” Oliver said, sliding the thick envelope across the table.

  Finley eyed the white envelope with mild amusement before opening it and flicking through the green dollar bills.

  “Why does this concern you?” Finley demanded, slamming the envelope back onto the table and sliding it back to Oliver, narrowly missing his new cocktail.

  “There's $2000 in there,” Oliver said calmly, sliding it back, “take it and leave them alone.”

  A hoarse and deep laugh escaped Finley's throat, making his thick set chest rise and fall.

  “You're in my club,” he whispered, “I make the rules.”

  His heavy British accent curled and licked each word in a way that Oliver had never heard before.

  “Just take the money,” he said, “I'm doing them a favor.”

  “It's not that simple,” Finley said, tossing back the cocktail with ease.

  The glass disappeared and a fresh cocktail sprung up in its place within seconds.

  “I know you Finley,” Oliver sighed, “money is the only thing you care about.”

  “You don't know me too well then,” Finley teased, “money and boys.”

  Suddenly, it became very clear to Oliver what was going on, and what Finley really wanted. The money didn't bother him. He wanted Charlie.

  “You mean Charlie?” Oliver gulped.

  “Is that what he's called?” he sneered, “I like it. Charlie. Rolls off the tongue doesn't it? He's so fresh and raw. I'd change that very quickly.”

  “You won't lay a fucking finger on him,” Oliver growled, slamming a fist on the table.

  His anger only made Finley laugh again.

  “So that's why you're here,” he spat, “you want to protect your piece of boy pussy.”

  It was taking everything in Oliver's power to stop himself from launching across the table and wrapping his fingers around the meat head's throat. He didn't stand a chance against him, especially with his staff hiding in the shadows to back him up, but he didn't care.

  Don't you dare talk about Charlie like that.

  “You've got the money. Leave them alone.”

  “I don't think I want to,” Finley whispered deeply, “you and me are quite alike. We see something we want and we get it.”

  “He's not up for sale,” Oliver snarled back, “back off.”

  “I want a night with him,” Finley said coolly, “one night of fucking. One that little twink will never be able to forget. If he still wants to go back to you after me, then you're welcome to him, but don't count on it.”

  The corner of Oliver's lip bounced up into a heavy snarl as he clenched his fits so hard, his nails dug deeply into his palms.

  “No deal,” Oliver mouthed.

  The PVC creaked and moaned under Finley's weight as he rested back in the chair.

  “They disrespected me. They ignored me and tried to stop me getting my money. They owe me.”

  “You have the money they owed and more,” Oliver could feel his voice rising, “they owe you nothing.”

  “We'll see,” Finley raised an eyebrow and smirked, “it was nice seeing you Oliver.”

  “I'll do anything to protect him,” Oliver whispered.

  This act of loyalty made Finley's ears prick up and he pursed his lips ever so slightly before reaching his thick fingers out and wrapping them tightly around his knee.

  “Anything?” Finley leaned in and whispered deeply.

  “How about a trade?” Oliver muttered.

  Gulping, Oliver pushed Charlie to the back of his mind and nodded slowly.

  “Cancel my 12'o'clock,” Finley barked at the waiter, “I suddenly have plans.”

  As Finley led Oliver off to his private office concealed in the back of the club
, he tried to clear his mind and he reminded himself why he was doing it.

  I'm doing this for you Charlie.

  Ch

  apter 23

  “Charlie! Wake up.”

  The words burst through his dreams, forcing his eyes to spring open in the darkness. It took a few seconds for them to adjust on the silhouette of his mother leaning over him in bed.

  “What is it?” Charlie croaked sitting straight up in the dark.

  “I've found us somewhere,” she said, “I got in touch with a friend in Colorado who will take us in. She says she can get me work.”

  Shaking his head, Charlie wanted to make sure he wasn't dreaming. As the words sunk in, a heavy sense of de-ja-vu fell over him.

  He’d heard those words too many times.

  It had been Charlie who had said they needed to leave, but the reality of it was too hard to face. The image of Oliver pushed through the muddled thoughts and shone brightly in his mind as clear as day.

  “This is too fast,” Charlie said, shaking his head, “we can't just go like this.”

  “Why not?” she snapped, “We can't just wait for him to come back can we? I have nothing to give him.”

  Charlie's eyes flickered in the dark and goosebumps popped up all over his exposed shoulders.

  “I need more time,” Charlie whispered, “I can't just leave.”

  “Why?” she cried.

  Charlie wanted to tell her everything about Oliver, but he couldn't bear to say the words. Just the thought of explaining what Oliver meant to him was making him choke up.

  “I need to say goodbye,” Charlie said, “if we're going to do this, we need to do it my way.”

  Heavily, she dropped to the floor and leaned against the wall opposite Charlie's bed, hitting her head lightly on the white wall.

  “How did we get in this mess?” she sighed.

  Charlie wanted to tell her exactly how they'd got in the mess they were in.

  It's all your fault.

  He wanted her to feel all of the guilt for the situation. He wanted her to know what she was doing.

  “Go back to sleep,” she sighed, standing up and heading to the door, “we'll talk about it tomorrow.”

  After a light sleep, Charlie awoke and shuffled into the kitchen where his mother was already sitting clutching a coffee. The heavy bags under her eyes told him that she probably hadn't slept at all.

  “I'm going to work,” Charlie said quietly, leaning against one of the chairs, “I don't want to just vanish. I need to explain things.”

  She nodded heavily, but he could tell she wasn't really listening. Deep down, he knew how hard it was for her to leave again. They'd nearly reached the happy place she'd been searching for, but it was snatched away by a cruel twist of fate as soon as it had been handed out.

  Heading out into the daylight, the sight of Oliver's familiar silver car sat outside of his house.

  “Get in,” Oliver said after winding the window down.

  “It's only around the corner,” Charlie sighed, “I can walk.”

  “Get in the car Charlie.”

  Taking a deep breath, Charlie walked around the vehicle and nervously lowered himself into the passenger seat.

  “What's going on?” Charlie asked noticing the look of anxiety on his face.

  It had been the first time he'd seen him since he'd stormed out of work on the beach, but he hadn't been able to think of anything else since. Every time Oliver's face popped into his head, it made his heart flutter and his palms sweat.

  “I went to see Finley,” Oliver said, “I paid him the money you owed. He won't be bothering you again.”

  It was that easy?

  Charlie couldn't believe his ears. Oliver had gone and done exactly what he'd asked him not to do. He knew he'd still have to leave, but he didn't want to owe anything to Oliver.

  “It doesn't fix anything,” Charlie sighed, “we can't stay somewhere where there's no work. We're leaving.”

  “You can't,” Oliver jumped in.

  Please don't make this any harder.

  “It's already done. We're going to Colorado. My mom has a friend there.”

  There was a moment's silence before Oliver beat his fists down on the steering wheel.

  “I won't let you go god dammit!” he screamed.

  The pain in his voice was all too clear. Charlie knew what he was doing to Oliver because whatever he was feeling, Charlie was feeling just as bad, he'd just learned to hide it.

  “I have to,” he muttered, “I don't have a choice. There's nothing here for us.”

  “What about me? You have me?” Oliver cried.

  Charlie sighed and leaned into the chair, looking up at the roof of the car to stop the tears from breaking through.

  “Please don't make this any harder than it is,” Charlie whispered.

  “I fucking love you Charlie,” Oliver shouted, twisting in his chair to face him, “don't you love me?”

  I do.

  I love you Oliver.

  “Well?” Oliver cried.

  Charlie turned to face him and he instantly felt his bottom lip tremble out of control as the tears fell from his lashes and down his cheeks. He couldn't say anything, instead he nodded his head as he screwed up his face.

  The words wouldn't leave his mouth.

  “Please,” Oliver's voice cracked, “just stay.”

  Gulping heavily, Charlie calmed his breathing down and forced the tears back down, quickly wiping them from his soft cheeks.

  “I can't,” he whispered, “I love you, but I can't stay.”

  Charlie turned away from Oliver, and exited the car. The morning breeze hit him in the face and quickly filled up his suffocating lungs. He glanced at the car before walking in the opposite direction of the Surf Club.

  ***

  “Oliver are you okay?” Porter cried as Oliver burst through the Surf Club door sobbing.

  He felt like his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. He didn't remember driving to work or parking his car, all he could see and hear was Charlie.

  “He's leaving,” Oliver cried, “Charlie is leaving.”

  “Oh man,” Porter said softly, pulling Oliver into a tight hug, “I'm so sorry.”

  “I did something really stupid and it didn't work,” Oliver sobbed.

  “What have you done?” Porter asked, pulling away from the hug, holding Oliver at arm's length.

  “They owed Finley money, so I went and paid what they owed.”

  “Why is that so bad?”

  “Because I slept with Finley. The money wasn't enough for him. He wanted Charlie, so I did a trade to protect him, but it was all for nothing.”

  The air had been torn from Oliver and the gut wrenching pain was making it hard to stand. He just wanted to crumble into a pile and for everything to disappear.

  “Go home Oliver,” Porter whispered, wiping the tears from Oliver's cheeks, “I don't need you today, especially like this.”

  Stumbling back to his car, Oliver collapsed into the plush, leather chair but he couldn't bring himself to start the car and drive home. Instead, he stayed outside of the Surf Club and gasped for air through the tears trying to forget Finley's hands all over him.

  It was all for nothing. I've lost him.

  ***

  It wasn't until Charlie was standing on the edge of the bank staring into the waterfall that he realized where he was. His legs had taken him through the forest and they'd found the place where he'd decided to give his body to Oliver.

  That feels so long ago now.

  Gazing into the water, he could almost see Oliver splashing around calling for him to join him in the water. A force unknown took over Charlie's hands as the fumbled to untie his sneakers and pull his socks off.

  The water was calling for him to jump in.

  Charlie wriggled out of his t-shirt and carefully slid his underwear off until he was standing naked on the bank of the crystal clear water. People could have been passing by and C
harlie wouldn't have noticed. It was as if he was standing above his own body, watching himself in a trance.

  He gently closed his eyes, filled his lungs with the warm air and stepped off the bank into the water. It hit his skin and wrapped itself all over his body as he wriggled and kicked under the surface trying to emerge to the top.

  He burst through, gasping with his eyes screwed up tightly. He spun around to look for Oliver, but when he realized he was alone, the water started to feel a lot colder than it had the first time Charlie had visited the hideaway.

  Holding his nose, he bobbed his head under the surface and opened his eyes in the sparkling water. Small fishes were darting in every direction, bouncing off each other’s scaly sides. Charlie felt like one of those fish. He felt like he was swimming through a large ocean and he was darting between the obstacles that were messing his life up.

  He darted past his mother and Poppy and then he bumped into Finley, then Porter and finally Oliver. His lungs were screaming out for air, but he stayed under the water listening to the noise. He wanted to hear the answer to what he should do, but it was all too muffled.

  But then, he saw his mother and Poppy clearly before him. They were standing in an empty apartment, with no money or food and the landlord was banging on the door. Oliver walked in to take Charlie into his arms, but it didn't fix anything.

  Emerging from the water gasping for air, he knew exactly what he had to do.

  We need to go and fast.

  By the time he'd reached the apartment, he could still feel his damp skin itching under his clothes but he didn't care. Everything had lined up and for the sake of his family, there was only one way out.

  “How fast can we leave?” Charlie asked his mother who stared at him with surprise from the kitchen table.

  “Charlie,” she cried, “I thought you were meant to be at work?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “My friend Amber said she'd wire me the money to get the train tickets.”

  “Call her and get the money,” Charlie sighed, “we're leaving in the morning.”

  The longer I stay it here, the harder it's going to get.