Skaterboy by J. M. Snyder Page 3

  Stepping onto his board, CJ lines up the distance in his mind -- not much, which is why he doesn't really like skating on the sidewalk. There's never enough room to get a good, long run, but he'll deal. He's done it before.

  He backs up a bit. Brendan moves aside to give him more room, but he doesn't need it. From the corner of his eye he checks the traffic -- the parking lot in front of him is empty. Alright then, he thinks, taking a deep breath. Skating does this to him, gives him this rush, this tension, he loves it. Kicking off hard from the ground, he drives the board across the sidewalk, fast and hard. The way I like it, Richard's voice teases. He can almost see the wicked gleam that would flicker in his lover's eyes at such a remark. It makes him grin, spurs him on.

  Just before he reaches the curb, he jumps. A twist of his foot spins the board beneath him, launching it off the sidewalk in a perfect shot. See? he thinks as he pulls his legs up to give the board room to move. Now how hard is this? I mean really. He clears the curb and brings both feet down on the board with the slightest wobble before he finds his balance again, and then he's skating across the lot, jump complete. In his mind, an imaginary crowd goes wild. Thank you. Thank you.

  The blare of a car horn snaps him back to reality. "Get the hell out of the way!" someone cries as CJ skates to a stop. Before he can turn, a Beemer flies by, close enough that the back of his jacket billows out from the car's passing.

  "Fucking ass!" Mick yells after the driver. CJ waits for an opening between cars and then darts back to the safety of the sidewalk, where Mick growls, "Can't they see we're skating here? Jesus."

  CJ stares after the car that almost hit him. Richard drives a BMW, though his is an older model. And in better shape, too, CJ tells himself. Runs like silk. He has half a mind to jog over to the spot that the car pulls into and knock on the window, wait for the driver to roll down the glass, then lean in and boast, "My guy has one of these, too. Yours looks like shit compared to his."

  He should do it, but he's not like that. "I wish we could use the pipe," he mutters. He looks at Mick, who just ignores him, so CJ turns to Brendan. "What time is it anyway?"

  Brendan shrugs. "I dunno. You waiting for someone?"

  CJ bends to brush dust off his artwork and tells him, "I'm supposed to meet my guy here at one."

  At that, Brendan and Mick exchange a glance but neither says anything. CJ's ready for it, though -- he's had problems before, even with other skaters, once they find out he's with Richard. Mostly it's stupid shit, mean remarks, nothing bad enough to start a fight, though once he did kick some dude's ass for laughing at his guy. "Not him?" the fuckhead snickered as Richard approached the ramp where CJ was hanging with a few other skaters.

  This was outside of one of the trade shows, CJ can't remember where, but things were going good until another skater whistled at a businesswoman and asked if CJ thought her skirt could be any shorter. CJ said he didn't care, it wasn't his style, and someone else asked if he was like that. "Yeah," CJ said, defensive. "So what?"

  "So nothing," the other skater said, but every guy who passed, he wanted CJ's opinion on. "What about him? Would you do him?" and "I don't get it. So you don't like tits? What gets you going? Dick or ass?"

  CJ skated and pretended he didn't hear the questions. It was easier that way. "Hey, you know what?" The kid wouldn't let up. When CJ came down off the ramp, he shouldered up to him, leaning close but talking loud enough for his friends to hear. "I've always wondered what it'd be like with a guy. Not getting it up the ass or anything, just maybe sucking off or something. You do that, right? You'd suck me off?"

  The thought repulsed him. "I have a guy," CJ said, shoving the jerk away. A few minutes later, Richard came out of the hotel, spotted him at the ramp, and headed his way. Then the laughter, and CJ's whole body flushed with anger. He rammed his board into the skater's stomach, smashed the wheels in his face, hit him again and again, head and arms and chest, until Richard raced over to pull him off.

  He couldn't stop apologizing after that. They had to leave the trade show a day early but fortunately the police weren't interested in pursuing charges -- boys, the officer said after he heard what had happened. CJ thought maybe he could've cared less about two skaters fighting. All the way home, he stared out the window at the trees and scenery racing by, every now and then mumbling, "Sorry." Richard hated him, had to, CJ just knew it.

  But after an hour of stony silence, Richard touched CJ's thigh. "It's okay, babe," he whispered.

  In the window, CJ watched his own reflection shimmer and his chin crumble as his eyes filled with tears. "Rich, I'm sorry."

  The hand squeezed his thigh, and CJ slipped his fingers beneath Richard's. "Come here," Richard said. When CJ didn't move, Richard tugged at his hand, pulling it into his own lap. "I said come here, Ceej. I'm not going to bite you."

  Reluctantly, CJ turned from the window. Some days he wonders what he ever did to deserve someone as kind and loving as Richard. There's a tiny part of his soul that suspects it's all a big mistake and one day Richard will be gone. He isn't religious and doesn't quite believe in God -- at least not the one they used to talk about in church when he was a little boy, a know-all, see-all being kind of like Santa only not so giving -- but at night when he's lying in Richard's arms, he prays to whoever's up there listening that he doesn't lose this. This one, he thinks as Richard cuddles up behind him. Let me keep this one, okay? I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll get a job and stop skating if I have to, just let me keep him, please. Let him be mine.

  That day on the road, Richard eased an arm around CJ's shoulders and hugged him close. It was awkward in the car but they managed, Richard steering with one hand while CJ rested his head on his lover's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said again.

  "Don't be," Richard told him. For a quick second his grip tightened in a strong embrace. CJ imagined himself folding into Richard's side like a shirt into a drawer and he couldn't think of anything he'd love better than to simply disappear completely into his guy. "It wasn't your fault, hon. I know that."

  How can he not love someone like Richard? Someone who sees what really happens, who sees him for who he is -- past the skater to the man he might become one day? In front of Harrison's grocery, CJ steps up onto his board and waits for a comment from the other two skaters that never comes. Mick is back at his jumps again -- the first try lands him hard on his butt and before he can get out of the way, his board flips up to smack him in the balls. Brendan thinks this is the funniest thing he's seen in years. "Damn, Mick! He shows you how to do it and you still fuck it up."

  "Shut up," Mick growls. He glares at CJ like he's the one who said something, then hauls himself up from the concrete. "I know what I'm doing. Stop laughing, dickwad."

  "You suck," Brendan laughs. "So hard, Mick. You don't even realize it."

  CJ catches the quick glance Mick shoots his way and can almost hear the thoughts running through the other skater's mind. Don't even, he prays. Today's going mostly alright so far. The last thing he needs is a fight right now so he keeps his mouth shut and watches Mick warily. Don't -- the word is a mantra in his mind. Don't you dare.

  For a long moment, Mick wavers and CJ just knows he'll say something, he has to, he'll ruin everything with a flippant remark. I'm not the one who sucks here ... CJ's heard it before. But then Mick surprises him. "Can you do a handstand?" he asks.

  CJ laughs. "Hell yeah."

  At 1:15 Brendan asks, "When's your friend supposed to show?"

  With a shrug, CJ admits, "I don't know." Richard will get here when he does -- he said he might run a little late, didn't he? Something about a meeting, CJ doesn't really remember exactly what. Besides, right now he's too busy to worry about it too much. He and Mick are taking turns at the curb, doing heel flips, kick jumps, handstands, anything to outdo each other. CJ thinks he's winning, if anyone's keeping score. He's only fallen once, when he lost his balance and his board flew out from under him, sending him down on one knee whil
e pain as thick and oily as smoke sizzled through his thigh. Mick though, the kid can't seem to stay upright. "Are you sure you've done this before?" CJ jokes.

  Mick jumps off his board just before it launches out across the parking lot and gives CJ a hard stare that he's grown used to by now. "Let me use your board," he says.

  "Like that'll help you much," Brendan laughs. He still stands against the wall, watching them, and CJ's begun to think maybe he can't skate at all. He wouldn't be the first poser to buy a deck and wheels and hang with boarders like he knows what he's doing. Nodding at CJ, Brendan asks, "You think using his board's going to make you any better?"

  "It can't hurt." Before CJ can protest, Mick snatches his board from his hands and spins it around, admiring the artwork. "Just til your friend gets here. Could you do up a deck for me like this?"

  "You pay me for it," CJ says. He glances over at Mick's skateboard, resting negligently beside the grassy median directly across the lot from them, and sighs. Where's Richard? He wants his own board back. He's not coming back here to skate again, not with these kids. Sure, they haven't ragged on him about his guy, but he doesn't think he can take much more of this Mick character. Brendan's right, like he really thinks CJ's board will instantly transform him into some kind of super skater or something. It'll take a hell of a lot more than a board to do that, he thinks, bitter. With a quick look around to make sure he's not going to get hit crossing the lot, he jogs over to Mick's beat-up board. As he picks it up, he knows it's crap -- one of the wheels is a little wobbly, the truck's probably fractured, and the grip tape's worn through in places, there's no traction on the damn thing. "This is a piece of shit," CJ mutters. He can't skate on it. No wonder Mick sucks so bad.

  Dropping the board to the ground, CJ steps up on it and swears he feels the wood buckle beneath his weight. Cautiously, he starts across the lot, ignoring a car horn that blats as the board shudders under his sneakers. He's never had to push a board so hard to get it moving, this is ridiculous. Brendan thinks so too -- even from this distance CJ can hear his silly laugh. "Shut up," he growls, though Brendan either doesn't hear him or doesn't care because he sure as hell doesn't listen. No wonder Mick's so surly all the time. CJ would be too if this damn plank was his. Halfway back to the sidewalk, he hits a spot of cracked tarmac and the board shudders like he's trying to skate an earthquake. "Holy --"

  That's about as far as he gets before the board shifts and throws him off balance. He pinwheels his arms but he's going to get snapped, he knows it, he can almost feel the kiss of concrete on his backside. Another horn tears through the quiet afternoon, a car whooshes behind him, someone shouts for him to watch out but there isn't much he can do about it now. He's going to fall. The board flips out from under him to ram into a nearby shopping cart and he takes a step backward, he hears an engine roar, he can't stop himself in time, he's going down --

  Strong hands catch him before he hits the ground. His shoulders scream in pain as tight fingers dig into his armpits and the familiar scent of expensive cologne wafts around him like a dream. He knows these arms he's in, this body he leans back against. And he knows this stern voice that wants to know, "What the hell are you trying to do out here, Ceej? Get yourself killed?"

  He grins over his shoulder at Richard, but his lover is scowling at the car that almost hit him and doesn't look his way. "Rich," CJ sighs. He tries to stand but Richard won't let him go. "Babe, I'm fine. We're blocking the road."

  Richard's grip tightens almost painfully and CJ tries to shake free. He can't. "Richard, I'm fine --"

  "Can't you have a safe hobby?" his lover asks, angry.

  He propels CJ over to the sidewalk and still won't let go. CJ knows better than to argue -- he's scared his guy, it's in the tremble of his hands, the way Richard's fingers claw into CJ's skin. He tries to hide it behind harsh words but CJ still hears the tremor in his voice. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

  Richard isn't listening. "Cross-stitching maybe," he suggests, "or cooking. Or stick to drawing, why don't you? Save the daredevil stunts for the video games." Now he releases CJ, who shakes his jacket into place again and still feels Richard's hands on his body. Frowning at Mick and Brendan, Richard asks, "Who's this?"

  "Some guys I met," CJ says. He notices Mick's board by the curb and stoops to pick it up. "They shut down the pipe, babe. Police tape everywhere. Some kids with drugs --"

  Noticing Mick's skateboard, Richard says, "That's not yours."

  "I know." CJ dusts it off, not that it helps any, but he surely hopes Mick doesn't try to pin the broken truck on him. It didn't hit the cart that hard. Gesturing to Mick, CJ tells Richard, "He has mine." At the look of consternation on his lover's face, he adds quickly, "I let him borrow it just until you came --"

  Richard studies Mick like the kid's something he scraped off his shoe. "Well I'm here," he says. Placing an arm around CJ like a protective father, he holds his hand out. "You can give it back now."

  As CJ steps forward to switch boards with Mick, the other skater mutters, "I wasn't stealing it."

  "I know," CJ whispers. Still, it feels wonderful to have his own board again, and he's only too happy to give Mick's back.

  Richard's voice softens. "Alright then," he says, rubbing a gentle circle into the small of CJ's back. In a low tone, he asks, "You ready to go?"

  "Yeah." CJ gives Mick a tight smile that the skater doesn't return. Then he tries Brendan, who gapes at Richard as if he's never seen a man in a suit and tie before. "This is my guy I was telling you about." He nods at each of them in introduction. "Richard, Brendan, Mick. We were just hanging out a bit." At Richard's worried frown, CJ asks, "How's it going at the office?"

  Richard sighs and rolls his eyes. "Come on," he grumbles -- a bad sign. When CJ doesn't move fast enough for him, Richard takes his arm and asks, "You about done here?"

  "Yeah." Tucking his board under his arm, CJ touches Richard's hand, surprised to find the fingers cold as ice. "See you guys around."

  "Yeah," Brendan says suddenly. He punches Mick playfully in the stomach and Mick nods. "Yeah, see you. Good form."

  With a happy laugh, CJ waves at the other skaters, then turns to follow Richard into the store. The hand on his arm is clenched tight to hide the fact that it's still shaking. CJ covers it with his own and tries to massage some warmth back into his guy's fingers. "Richard, I'm sorry --"

  Richard's mouth is set in a thin, firm line, almost lost in his trimmed beard and moustache. CJ knows he's mad. "Do you know what that does to me?" Richard asks quietly. "Seeing you skate in the middle of the street like you don't give a shit who runs you over. Did you think that car was going to stop for you?"

  "Rich --"

  "Sometimes I wish you'd think before you pulled crap like that," Richard continues. CJ has to step quick to keep up with him, he always walks like this when he's mad, large strides as if he's trying to distance himself from whatever it is that's pissed him off or scared him half to death. As they near Harrison's, he doesn't slow down, and when the automatic door is too slow in opening, Richard shoves it out of the way. "You're going to be the death of me, CJ, I swear it."

  CJ stops in the doorway. "Don't say that." Richard keeps walking but CJ refuses to move -- he pulls his arm back and forces Richard to stop, as well. His lover's eyes are tortured and bright and can't seem to focus on CJ. "Listen to me, Richard. Look at me."

  He waits for those sky-blue eyes to shift his way, to see him as no one else seems able to do. His chest hurts to see the pain in that gaze, pain he put there. "Baby," he whispers, rubbing Richard's hand until the fingers relax and release his arm to fold into his palm. "I'm sorry."

  With a sigh, Richard nods. "I know." He squeezes CJ's hand, a small gesture that means he's forgiven, despite the tears that his guy blinks away. "I'm just ... damn, Ceej, my heart almost stopped when I saw you fall! I don't want to lose you, you hear? I'm not going to. I just wish you'd be more careful sometimes."

  "I know," CJ concedes. I don't want
to lose you, the words flood through him with a rush that sends him soaring higher than his board ever has. I'm not going to. Taking Richard's hand in both of his, CJ ducks his head and looks up at his guy. I love you, he thinks. He bites his lower lip to keep his mouth from splitting into a goofy grin -- Richard does this to him. "Maybe?" he asks, suddenly coy. "After lunch, if you don't have to rush back to the office just yet, maybe I can make it up to you somehow?" He tugs on Richard's forefinger and pinky, playful. "Maybe you can swing by the apartment for a few minutes, or something ...?"

  He trails off. If he presses it, Richard will say no, he has to work. But the scene in the parking lot scared him more than he's willing to let on, CJ knows because Richard hasn't stopped touching him since he showed up, as if he'll disappear if Richard lets go. I won't, CJ swears silently. He watches Richard closely and waits. I'm not losing you either, Rich. I'm not letting you go.

  Finally Richard sighs again, an exaggerated sound, like the last thing he wants to do is hurry through lunch to get in a quick one before he heads back to work. "We'll see," he says, but the promise in his voice makes CJ so giddy, he can't hide his smile. "I said we'll see," Richard warns.

  "That means yes," CJ laughs. And despite the fact that they're standing at the front of the grocery store in broad daylight, he leans close for a kiss. Just a peck on the cheek, nothing more, not here ...

  But at the last second Richard turns and CJ's lips land squarely on his own. "Maybe you can even take the rest of the day off," CJ suggests. The thought makes his head spin. The two of them in bed in the middle of the day, naked, Richard above him, in him, encircling him. Loving him.

  "CJ," Richard sighs. Then he laughs, his arm easing around CJ's waist. "I have a lot of things I need to get done today and you know it."