Page 12 of Chained
Edge shrugged. Christ, his eyes were always soulful, but today they were downright haunted. Terry had a ridiculous compulsion to chase away those shadows and replace them with light. “Can I tell you about my first boyfriend?” That might not cheer Edge up, but it would pass the time, and it was a story that was safe to tell.
“Okay.” A flat tone, as always, yet Edge leaned forward just a little. Good.
“I was sixteen, and I had a friend named Gary Lee. I didn’t have a lot of friends because I was kind of a weird kid, but Gary and I were in the same math class and we’d hit it off. Just platonic at first. I had a job at McDonald’s that summer, and I used to work pretty late, but I’d tell my aunt I was working even later. Then Gary would meet me after work and we’d hang out at his house, listen to music, smoke a little weed. His parents didn’t seem to care what he did or who came and went from his room at all hours.” Mostly because they were either stoned or drunk most of the time too. But that wasn’t part of the story, so Terry omitted it. “Did you ever do stuff like that when you were a teenager?”
Dammit! Edge’s eyes grew even more troubled. “No.”
“Well, I did, at least when I could get away with it. Aunt Shirley kept me on a pretty short leash most of the time. Anyway, one night Gary met me like always, and we walked over to his house, which was only a few blocks away. God, I remember that night so well! It was just past sunset. The air was still sticky-hot, lawns sparkling with fireflies. We had big cups of Coke and we’d stuffed ourselves with burgers and fries.”
“Fireflies,” Edge said slowly. Almost dreamily.
And suddenly Terry missed them with a physical pang. “Yeah. Did you have them where you grew up?”
“No.”
“They’re…. I mean, they’re just bugs. I know that. But there’s something almost magical about them, at least when you’re a kid.” Terry sighed. “Anyway, we went to Gary’s house. His room was in the basement, with a bunch of old couches and a busted drum-set, and it smelled a little mildewy, but I didn’t care.” Gary could blast his records as loud as he wanted and nobody would complain. That summer he’d been playing Bowie’sYoung Americansover and over, and sometimes they’d sing along with it, but sometimes they simply listened.
“Gary and I had seenJawsa few days earlier. We liked it so much, and that night we were talking about going to see it again. Then we started playing around, doing thedum-dum dum-dummusic and chasing each other, with our arms going like shark jaws.” Terry demonstrated and was delighted to see Edge almost crack a smile.
“I tripped over Gary’s bed—it was just a mattress on the floor—and he fell on top of me, and suddenly we were kissing.” Awkwardly, with the sweet taste of cola in their mouths, and the sheets bunched up underneath them, and with “Fame” blasting from the speakers.
Edge was leaning even farther forward now, his hands loose in his lap and his head slightly cocked. As if Terry’s story were important.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We made out. That was all. But— God, I guess I’d known I was gay, but I hadn’t reallyknownknown until then. Kissing Gary felt so right, like ofcourseI liked boys. Neither of us freaked out about it either. It was too natural.”
“So then he was your boyfriend.”
“Yeah. We didn’t tell anyone, of course. Probably even Gary’s parents would have freaked out over it, and Aunt Shirley would have sent me to a monastery or military school or something. Butweknew. After that, when we went to Gary’s room, we always made out. And pretty soon we advanced beyond that. The sex wasn’t great—we were sixteen and horny and inexperienced—but it was…good.” He smiled at the memory of their earnest fumblings and eager explorations.
But then he frowned. “We had that summer together. But that fall, Gary went sort of… off. He dropped acid sometimes, and I wasn’t interested. We… drifted. He dropped out of school, shot up heroin, got arrested a couple of times for minor things, I think to feed his habit. He ran away. Maybe to Chicago, maybe New York; his parents weren’t sure. I never saw him again.”
Later, Terry could have used his connections in the Bureau to track Gary down, but he hadn’t dared. Deep in his heart, he dreaded discovering that Gary was lying six feet under, like Amos, and Terry didn’t want that fear confirmed. It was better not to know and to instead picture Gary grown-up, happy, loved.
And that had turned out to be a more depressing story than Terry had intended. Shit.
He was going to ask Edge abouthisfirst boyfriend, even though Edge would likely just stare at him or maybe grace him with a shrug. But then a knock sounded on the door. Breakfast was served.
Not long after breakfast, a man arrived with two assistants and a lot of clothing. Nice stuff. Expensive stuff. Most of it flashier than Terry preferred, but he knew he’d look good in it, and that was the point. He tried on a few things to satisfy the tailor that the fit was correct, and then Terry and Edge were left alone.
As Terry was putting everything away, he asked, “What should I wear tonight?”
Predictably, Edge shrugged.
“Really, man, I need your help. I’ve never been to anything like this, but you have. What do people wear?”
Edge scrunched up his face in thought. He most likely paid as little attention to fashion as to music. All Terry had seen him wear were black suits with white shirts or his workout gear. “The men wear colors,” he finally pronounced.
“Colors. Okay, so nothing too formal, I guess.” Terry stared into the closet for a moment before pulling out a cobalt suit. “Like this?”
“Maybe.”
Apparently that was as much wardrobe advice as Edge was able to give. Maybe deciding on the right attire was part of Whitaker’s test for potential clients. Well, the cobalt suit would at least show off Terry’s eyes nicely. He chose a silky black T-shirt to go with it and then had to consider whether to take his gun. Better not to, he decided. It wouldn’t do him much good in a crowd anyway, so best to stay on the safe side and keep it hidden in his room.
And suddenly exhaustion hit him like a wave. “I’m wiped. Maybe I overdid it in the gym. I’m going to take a nap.” He hadn’t done that in years.
Edge didn’t move from the armchair.
