pzb.drawingblood-第16章

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　　〃The　way　you　talk。　And　you　don't　look　like　you're　from　around　here。　The　only　other　place　you　could've　e　from　is　New　Orleans。〃
　　〃Never　been　there。〃　In　a　burst　of　inspiration；　Zach　added；　〃Yet。　It's　where　I'm　headed。〃
　　Their　eyes　met　again　and　locked。　For　an　instant　Zach　imagined　that　Leaf　was　able　to　look　straight　into　his　brain；　to　see　the　lie　arid　the　convoluted　reason　behind　it；　the　miles　he　had　already　run　and　all　the　miles　still　ahead。　But　Zach　knew　that　was　not　true。
　　And　even　if　it　were；　he　could　see　in　those　warm　honeycolored　eyes　that　this　kid　wouldn't　care。
　　
　　Leaf　accepted　Zach's　offer　and　locked　up　the　store；　and　they　went　into　the　back　room　to　smoke　one　of　the　joints　Zach　had　rolled　for　the　trip。　Leaf　lounged　on　a　crate　of　toilet　paper；　long　legs　sprawled　before　him。　There　was　a　small　defiant　hole　in　one　knee　of　the　faded　jeans　he　wore　with　his　uniform　shirt。　The　skin　beneath　was　downed　with　fine　gold　hairs。
　　Zach　leaned　against　the　opposite　wall　watching　Leaf's　nervous　gestures；　tasting　Leaf's　lips　on　the　joint。　The　stockroom　of　a　convenience　store　in　Mississippi　seemed　a　stupid　place　to　get　waylaid　this　early　in　the　trip。　But　the　damn　kid　was　making　his　mouth　water。
　　〃I'm　quitting　tomorrow；〃　Leaf　said　after　his　third　toke。　〃I　hate　this　fuckin'　place。〃
　　〃What　are　you　doing　here；　anyway？〃
　　〃I'm　an　art　student　in　Jackson。　Photography。　I　was　supposed　to　spend　the　summer　here　taking　pictures；　preserving　the　goddamn　history　or　something。　But　it　sucks。　None　of　the　rednecks　know　anything　and　none　of　the　rich　old　farts　will　even　talk　to　me。　I　don't　know　which　stuff　is　supposed　to　be　important。　I　guess　I'll　fail　my　project。〃
　　〃Can't　you　do　some　research？〃
　　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　　〃Go　to　the　library；　find　out　where　people　lived；　what　houses　are　haunted；　that　kind　of　thing。　Most　of　the　old　newspapers　are　probably　on　microfilm。〃
　　Leaf　looked　up　at　Zach。　The　whites　of　his　eyes　were　shot　with　a　faint　scarlet　tracery　of　veins；　but　the　irises　and　pupils　were　heartbreakingly　clear。　〃I'm　a　totally　visual　person；〃　he　said。　〃I　hate　reading。〃
　　Zach　bit　his　tongue　hard；　dug　his　fingernails　into　the　soft　meat　of　his　palms。　That　was　the　kind　of　casual　statement　that　could　send　his　blood　pressure　rocketing　if　he　let　it。　But　now　it　produced　only　a　faint　twinge　in　his　heart；　like　a　filament　stretched　to　the　breaking　point。　So　the　kid　was　vapid；　so　much　the　better。　It　made　things　easy；　and　Zach　would　never　have　to　see　him　again　after　tonight。　〃You　hate　all　kinds　of　stuff；〃　he　said。
　　Leaf　shrugged。　〃I　guess。〃
　　〃Tell　me　something　you　like。〃
　　This　was　evidently　a　tough　one。　Zach　could　see　the　kid　sifting　through　possibilities；　rejecting　them　one　by　one。　〃I　like　the　beach；〃　he　said　finally。　〃I　never　go　in　the　water；　but　I　like　to　sit　on　the　sand　and　stare　out　to　sea。　It　makes　me　feel　like　I'm　looking　into　infinity。　You　know？〃
　　A　screen　full　of　scrolling　numbers　flashed　through　Zach's　head。　He　nodded。
　　〃I　like　sleeping。〃
　　Another　nod；　this　one　coupled　with　the　barest　suggestion　of　a　shrug。　Tell　me　something　I　couldn't　have　guessed。
　　〃I　like　you　okay。〃
　　They　had　both　known　they　weren't　just　locking　themselves　back　here　to　smoke　a　joint；　but　the　rest　of　their　agenda　had　to　be　obliquely　tested；　so　that　no　one　would　lose　face。　Zach　knew　the　game　and　approved。　He　smiled　and　raised　an　eyebrow；　waited　for　more。
　　〃Oh；　just　e　over　here　and　let's　fuck。〃
　　Now　that　was　Zach's　idea　of　an　excellent　pickup　line。　He　slid　across　to　the　case　of　toilet　paper　and　suddenly　Leaf　was　upon　him；　face　pressed　up　against　his；　one　hand　slipping　under　his　T…shirt；　the　other　squeezing　his　leg　beneath　his　loose　cutoffs。　Leafs　mouth　found　his　and　closed　over　it；　hot　little　tongue　probing　and　searching；　piney　flavor　of　the　weed　still　on　his　lips。　His　spidery　hands　flew　over　Zach's　skin　as　if　trying　to　memorize　its　warmth　and　texture。　His　touch　was　starving；　frantic。　The　poor　kid　probably　hadn't　been　laid　all　summer。
　　Zach　pushed　him　gently　back　against　the　wall；　unbuttoned　the　tacky　polyester　uniform；　stroked　the　boy's　smooth　chest　and　the　hollow　of　his　rib　cage；　managed　to　calm　him　down　a　little。　He　kissed　the　side　of　Leafs　throat；　the　pulse　that　beat　there　was　as　agitated　as　his　own。　The　skin　smelled　of　soap　and　salt；　tasted　of　clean　sweat。
　　Leaf　slid　to　the　concrete　floor　and　sprawled　between　Zach's　knees；　pressed　his　face　into　Zach's　stomach　and　mumbled　something　unintelligible。　Zach　cupped　the　boy's　chin；　tilted　the　sharp　feral　face　up　to　his　own。　〃What　did　you　say？〃
　　〃I　want　to　make　you　e。〃
　　〃How？〃
　　Those　exotic　honey…colored　eyes　tried　to　meet　his；　then　wavered。　Leaf　wasn't　used　to　talking　dirty。　〃How？〃　he　asked　again。
　　〃I　want　to　suck　your　dick。〃
　　The　words　increased　his　desire；　made　him　ache　and　burn。　〃Go　on；〃　Zach　said　through　clenched　teeth。　〃Just　do　it。〃
　　The　boy's　hands　fumbled　with　the　button　fly　of　Zach's　pants；　friction　driving　his　hard…on　nearly　to　the　point　of　pain。　Then　all　at　once　Leafs　hot　mouth　slid　onto　him；　then　pulled　all　the　way　back　to　a　teasing；　flickering　tongue…tip；　then　swallowed　him　deeper　yet。　Zach　felt　the　pot　and　pleasure　swirling　in　his　skull；　deliciously　mingling。　God　love　the　kid；　it　turned　out　he　knew　what　he　was　doing　after　all。
　　Zach　always　appreciated　it　when　people　surprised　him。
　　
　　Twenty　minutes　later；　stocked　up　with　a　handful　of　lighters；　a　sixpack　of　mineral；　water；　and　two　bags　of　jalapeno　potato　chips；　Zach　renewed　his　acquaintance　with　Highway　90。　It　would　take　him　through　Biloxi；　through　the　tag…end　of　Alabama；　and　all　the　way　to　Pensacola　in　another　hour　or　two。　After　that；　he　thought；　he　would　get　off　90　but　keep　heading　east；　all　the　way　to　the　coast　of　the　Atlantic　Ocean。　Somewhere；　he　knew；　there　was　a　beach　that　was　clean。
　　Leaf　hadn't　asked　him　to　stay　overnight；　hadn't　seemed　put　out　in　the　slightest　by　the　encounter。　After　getting　each　other　off　they　had　rested　together　for　a　few　minutes；　embracing　loosely；　catching　their　breaths。　Zach　had　spent　the　moments　appreciating　the　spare；　elegant　lines　of　the　boy's　face　and　body；　admiring　the　sheen　of　his　silky　hair　in　the　half…light　of　the　storeroom。　Then　by　some　silent　mutual　consent　they　rose　and　pulled　their　clothes　together　and　went　blinking　back　out　into　the　unmerciful　brightness　of　the　store。
　　At　the　door　they　clasped　hands　briefly。　〃By　the　way；〃　Leaf　told　him；　〃I　like　your　shirt。〃
　　Zach　glanced　down　at　himself。　He　was　still　wearing　the　exploding　Kennedy　head。　He　wondered　idly　if　some　buried　sixth　sense　had　made　him　put　it　on　this　morning　as　a　twisted　metaphor　for　what　was　to　follow。
　　〃Thanks；〃　he　said；　and　gave　Leaf's　talented　fingers　one　final　squeeze。　In　its　way　it　was　quite　a　tender　farewell。
　　The　day　had　followed　a　steep　curve　down　to　hell；　but　now　it　seemed　to　be　inching　back　up。　The　interlude　with　Leaf　had　relaxed　him；　left　him　feeling　sharp　and　awake；　as　if　Leaf　had　imbued　him　with　some　vital　essence　。。。　as　indeed　he　had。　Surely　there　was　some　energy　in　e；　some　electrifying　charge。
　　And　Zach　had　given　as　good　as　he　got。　He　always　deserted　in　the　end；　like　the　bastard　Eddy　thought　he　was；　but　he　always　tried　to　make　his　lovers　feel　good　in　the　brief　spans　of　time　he　spent　with　them。　He　had　even　left　Leaf　with　another　tightly　rolled；　sticky　joint　to　stave　off　tomorrow　night's　ennui。
　　All　in　all；　Zach　mused　as　he　reconnected　with　the　silent　ribbon　of　highway；　it　had　pretty　much　been　the　perfect　relationship。
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　Six
　　
　　Trevor　awoke　from　a　dream　of　blank　paper　laughing　up　at　him；　his　mind　a　monochrome　wash　of　panic；　his　heart　clenching　around　a　core　of　emptiness。　If　he　couldn't　draw　。。。　if　he　couldn't　draw　。　。　。
　　The　sheets　Kinsey　had　given　him　were　twined　around　his　legs；　sodden　with　nightmare　sweat。　Trevor　kicked　them　away　and　shoved　himself　upright。　His　bag　lay　on　the　floor　next　to　the　sofa。　He　pulled　out　his　sketchbook；　opened　it　to　a　clean　page；　and　sketched　furiously　for　several　minutes。　He　had　no　idea　what　he　was　drawing；　he　was　only　reassuring　himself　that　he　could。
　　When　his　heart　stopped　pounding　and　his　panic　began　to　fade；　Trevor　found　himself　staring　at　a　rough　sketch　of　his　brother　lying　on　a　stained　mattress；　small　hands　curled　in　death；　head　crushed　into　the　pillow。　He　remembered　that　today　was　the　day　his　family　had　died。
　　Trevor　felt　like　throwing　the　book　across　the　room。　Instead　he　closed　it　and　slid　it　back　into　his　bag；　found　his　toothbrush　in　the　zipper　pocket；　then　stood　up　and　stretched。　He　heard　his　shoulders　crack；　his　spine　make　a　noise　like　a　muffled　burst　of　gunfire。
　　Despite　the　flattened　cushions　and　the　occasional　sharp　end　of　a　spring；　Kinsey's　sofa　had　been　a　wele　place　to　sleep。　Trevor　was　surprised　to　find　it　forting　to　be　invited　into　someone's　home；　to　have　a　known　human　presence　in　the　next　room。　He　had　grown　used　to　cheap　hotels　and　run…down　boardinghouses。　On　the　other　side　of　the　wall　might　be　drunken　sobs　or　curses；　the　moist　tempo　of　sex；　the　silence　of　an　empty　room…but　never　anything　familiar；　never　anyone　who　cared　that　Trevor　Black　was　there。
　　Kinsey's　living　room　was　sparsely　furnished　with　more　thrift…shop　relics：　an　easy　chair；　a　reading　lamp；　a　wooden　bookcase　listing　under　the　weight　of　too　many　volumes。　Paperbacks；　mostly。　Trevor　read　some　titles　as　he　passed。　One　Hundred　Years　of　Solitude；　The　Stand；　Short　Stories　of　Franz　Kafka；　whole　shelves　of　Hesse　and　Kerouac；　even　Lo！　by　Charles　Fort。　Eclectic　tastes；　that　Kinsey。
　　There　were　some　crates　of　ics　too；　but　Trevor　did　not　look　through　them。　He　had　his　own　copies　of　Birdland。　ing　upon　other　copies　in　a　ic　shop　or　someone's　collection　was　always　unnerving；　like　seeing　someone　he　had　thought　dead。
　　There　was　no　TV；　Trevor　noted　approvingly。　He　hated　TV。　It　brought　back　memories　of　a　crowded　dayroom　at　the　Home；　the　sweaty　smell　of　boys；　voices　raised　in　fury　over　what　channel　to　watch。　The　stupidest　ones　had　always　screamed　for　a　cartoon　show　out　of　Raleigh　called　Barney's　Army。　Barney　was　a　cartoon　character　himself；　squat　and　ugly；　announcing　kids'　birthdays　and　cracking　lame　jokes　between　Looney　Toons　shorts。　He　was　so　badly　animated　that　no　part　of　him　moved　but　his　pitifully　stubby；　flipperlike　arms；　his　prognathous　jaw；　and　his　big　googly　eyes。　Trevor　figured　he　had　probably　hated　Barney　as　much　as　any　real　person　he　had　ever　known。
　　The　bathroom　tiles　were　spotless；　deliriously　cold　against　his　bare　feet。　He　used　the　Tom's　of　Maine　cinnamon…flavored　toothpaste　on　the　edge　of　the　sink；　then　splashed　cold　water　on　his　face。　For　a　long　moment　he　stood　staring　into　the　mirror。　His　father's　eyes　looked　back　at　him；　ice　rimmed　in　black；　faintly　challenging。　Do　you　dare？
　　You　bet　I　do。
　　The　door　of　Kinsey's　bedroom　was　ajar。　Trevor　peeked　into　the　shady　room。　Kinsey's　tall　form　lay　sprawled　across　the　bed；　skinny　legs　half…covered　by　a　vivid　patch…work　quilt。　He　was　the　only　person　Trevor　had　ever　seen　who　actually　wore　pajamas…bright　blue　ones；　the　same　color　as　his　eyes；　patterned　with　little　gold　moons　and　stars。　Trevor　hadn't　even　known　they　made　pajamas　in　Kinsey's　size。
　　For　a　few　minutes　he　watched　the　gentle　rise　and　fall　of　Kinsey's　che