CHAPTER SEVEN

 

“You walked by me like I didn’t exist,” Tyrone complained.

“What was I supposed to do?” Richard protested. “He’s from back home.”

Tyrone shook his head. “Walked right by me like I was the invisible man.”

“Oh, come on, like if you were with your homeboys from the Bronx you’d acknowledge me!”

Tyrone glared at him. “Yeah, I would have. I wouldn’t have grabbed your ass or nothing, but I would have played it cool, pretended you were a friend.”

They sat in Richard’s apartment on opposite ends of the sofa. Tyrone had his arms crossed and sat scowling at Richard.

“Look, I’m sorry. We can invite him over if you like and you can meet him.”

“I’m not interested in meeting that cracker. That’s not the point! The point is that you didn’t even acknowledge my existence. I get ignored by white folks every goddamn day. I don’t need to get it from you too!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, why does everything have to be about race? I ignored you because I didn’t want Brian to know I was gay, not because you’re black.”

“Why does everything have to be about race? Because everything is about race. I deal with this shit every time I leave the hood. Hell, I don’t even have to leave the hood to see it. Racism is why we’re in the hood in the first place. And when I step into the white man’s world I get it from all sides. Even my friends pull that shit. Remember Steve and his stupid joke about me blending into the shadows? Wherever I go, I’m reminded I’m black.”

“Wait, in that conversation, you were the one who said you were black first, then he made a joke about it. You’re usually the one reminding us that you’re black.”

“It’s called a preemptive strike, sucka. I disarm you cats before you say some really stupid shit that I’d have to carry around for the rest of the day.”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being paranoid. We all accept you. And we’re all in the same boat. We’re all gay. We’re all discriminated against.”

Tyrone glared at him. “I’ll take that from Steve, to a point. That dude can’t hide what he is. But you and Adam and most of the rest of the gang, y’all can just man up and pretend you’re straight, and walk the easy path. I can’t change my skin color, and I can’t make dumbass white folks see that my skin don’t make me inferior.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, how did we get here? I never said you were inferior.”

Tyrone got up. “Yeah, you sure made me feel like an equal when you walked right past me with your white friend like I wasn’t even there.”

Tyrone stormed out of the room. Richard sat there for a moment, stunned, then got up and followed him into the hall.

“Tyrone, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

But the front door was already slamming shut.

Richard trudged back to the living room and slumped on the sofa, his thoughts whirling. He knew he’d hurt his boyfriend, but he didn’t understand why Tyrone had to make a racial issue out of it. That wasn’t fair.

It was all so confusing. He felt lost. This was his first gay relationship, in fact his first serious relationship at all, and his first close friendship with a black person. It was like walking through a minefield, and he’d just stepped on a big one.

Richard cried a little, and then wiped the tears away angrily, knowing that tears wouldn’t help him. He needed to think.

It was mid-morning. He’d let Tyrone cool off for a bit and go visit him around lunchtime on his corner, take him someplace quiet where they could talk. He still had a few bucks. He could treat him to lunch at some air-conditioned place. Tyrone would appreciate that after standing on that exposed corner all morning. Judging from the hot, heavy air wafting through the open windows, it was going to be another bad one.

The phone rang. Could it be Tyrone calling from a payphone? Richard leapt to answer it.

“Hello, Richard? It’s Luke.”

“Oh, hey, Luke.”

“I got Paco Garcia’s phone number from Gaysweek. I’m sure he’ll be glad to meet the two of you again.”

If Tyrone and I ever go anywhere together again, Richard thought glumly.

“Cool. Give me his number.”

Luke did, and then added, “You OK? You sound a bit down.”

“I’m just tired,” Richard said.

“Your modeling career taking a lot out of you, eh?”

“Yeah, big time. Talk to you later, man.”

Richard hung up. Luke’s question reminded him that he had an appointment at Mitch’s place in a few days. A chill ran through him despite the heat. Could he really do a porn shoot? It was a lot of money, and he was nearly broke, but doing that was crossing a line he didn’t want to cross.

After mulling this over for a few minutes he picked up the phone again and called the number Luke had given him.

“Hello?” The voice that answered sounded hoarse.

“Hello, this is Richard Miller. Is this Paco Garcia?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good. I got your number from Gaysweek. I’m not sure if you remember me, but my boyfriend and I were at the Everard. He’s the guy who pulled you out.”

“Oh, yeah!” Paco’s exclamation broke off into a long, hacking cough. Once he recovered himself, he continued, “You mean the black dude with the fro? Mid-twenties?”

“That’s him. He pulled you out and we took you across the street.”

“Oh man, I was wanting to get in touch. That guy saved my life. I want to thank him. I want to thank you too.”

“I didn’t really do anything. I was trying to find you guys, but Tyrone who did all the work.”

“I don’t really remember much after I blacked out from the smoke. I’m sorry, but I don’t really remember you at all. I know the name, though.”

“Really? How?”

“After that stunt you pulled at The Hole in One, everyone in the community knows about you.”

Richard laughed. “Yeah, I kinda went overboard with that one. Made a lot of hardcore cruisers gag. Some even told me it was medically impossible, but I proved them wrong. It was for a good cause, though. But if you knew about the fundraiser, why didn’t you come forward to ask for help?”

“Oh, lots of people are worse off than me.”

“Well, maybe so, but we still have some funds left and we heard about your troubles, so we want to help you out.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I’m fine.”

“No way, man. You deserve it. I swallowed a whole bunch of cum for you, so you can’t refuse,” Richard replied jokingly.

Paco laughed, breaking off into another series of coughs.

“I was going to swallow Tyrone’s cum before the smoke started billowing into our cubicle. At least I had some fun with him. You have a fine man there. Great kisser, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Richard smiled sadly. “Yeah, he is a great kisser. I wish I appreciated his kisses more. Anyway, we’d like to come over and pay some bills and stock up your fridge.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Paco spoke. “All right. I guess I shouldn’t stand on pride. Some of my neighbors have been cooking and shopping for me, and I don’t want to be a burden. And considering all the, um, hard work you went through to help I guess it would be wrong to say no. But what do you mean that you don’t appreciate your boyfriend’s kisses enough?”

The question caught Richard off guard, and for the second time in twenty-four hours, he found himself opening up to a stranger.

“I’m new to all this. I just got into town in May. It’s like a dream come true coming to this city and finally getting to be who I am, but I think I’ve been going overboard. Too many drugs and too much anonymous sex. At the same time, I’ve started this wonderful relationship with Tyrone, but I think I’m fucking it up. It’s not so much the sex and drugs, because he parties too, but I can’t be fully at ease with him.”

“Because he’s black or because it’s your first romantic relationship with a man?”

“Oh shit, I don’t know. I get all awkward when he kisses me, and I hardly ever kiss him first. But it’s not the color thing. I get that way with white dudes who try to kiss me too. I can swallow a man’s cum or let him fuck me up the ass, but I can’t show real affection without getting tense.”

“You’re not the first gay man to go through this, brother. We’ve all been there. So you say you didn’t come out of the closet until a couple of months ago, and yet here you are swallowing a whole crowd of men’s cum.”

“One of my friends says I have Catholic Schoolgirl Syndrome--I don’t have any sense of proportion now that I’ve crossed over to the other side.”

Paco gave a rasping laugh. “Well, I come from a Catholic culture and I can tell you that Catholic Schoolgirl Syndrome is a very real thing. Take care of yourself, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Richard nodded sadly. “But what do I do about Tyrone?”

“You came out of the closet two months ago and you want to be perfect in your very first gay relationship? It’s going to take time and patience, for the both of you.”

“I think I might have screwed up. An acquaintance of mine from back home who doesn’t know I’m gay was walking with me yesterday, and I didn’t even acknowledge Tyrone when I passed him. He’s really mad about it.”

“Oh, Jesus. I’m not going to cushion it for you. You fucked up big time.”

“I panicked! It’s not my fault.”

“Think how he must feel.”

Richard sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do. I’m guessing you come from some country town and you haven’t had many colored friends before. You’re probably saying and doing all sorts of things that he’s just grinning and bearing and not complaining about.”

“Hey, I’m not a racist!”

“I never said you were, but you live in a racist society and you don’t even see some of the stuff you do as racist. I bet you talk over him a lot and laugh when he’s made the butt of jokes. And I bet you’d get comfortable kissing a white man quicker than you’ll get comfortable kissing Tyrone.”

Richard didn’t know what to say. He wanted to object, to slam the phone down, but he heard a ring of truth to this stranger’s words. When Richard didn’t reply, Paco went on.

“Like I said before, I’m not saying you’re racist. I bet you’ve come a long way from what you were a few months ago. It’s just that you have a long way still to go.”

“There’s more trouble than just that,” Richard admitted.

“What?”

“There’s someone else.”

“I thought you guys had an open relationship.”

“We do, but this guy’s… different. He’s bad for me and I’m afraid of him. Tyrone’s afraid of him too. But I find him so compelling. I’m drawn to him. I can’t stop thinking about him. And he keeps showing up when I least expect it.”

“What do you find so compelling about him?”

He’s a demon? He’s inhuman? He gives me better sex than any mortal can? No, that’s only part of it.

“If I say yes to him, I know I’ll be his forever. I want it and I’m afraid of it.”

“Sounds like you got a serious problem. Maybe all three of you could sit down and talk about it?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. ” Richard heard a knock on the door. He perked up.

“Oh hey, someone’s at the door. Maybe it’s Tyrone. I gotta go, man. Thanks so much for listening. We’ll call back later today and set up a time to come over.”

“Glad I could help. Take care, and try to keep an open mind. You’ve got a real winner in Tyrone.”

Richard smiled. “I know.” He hung up and hurried to the front door. When he opened it, he found no one there.

He peered down the hallway, wondering if he had taken too long to answer.

“Tyrone?” he called.

Then he heard the knock again. From behind him.

Slowly he turned, heart turning to ice.

The knock came a third time.

It was coming from the locked room. The summoning room. The room Anton Black and his cult had prepared as a gateway between the human world and the demon world.

Shaking, he crept up to the door, which remained locked and bolted from the outside.

Silence.

He caught a whiff of brimstone. Pressing his ear against the door, he thought he could hear the faint sound of breathing on the other side.

A loud knock made him jerk his head back. The door shook as if a heavy hand smacked against it.

“Go away!” Richard shouted. “I don’t want you here!”

He pressed his back against the opposite wall, trembling all over and staring down at the raging hard-on filling his pants.

I do want you here.

How could this be happening? It had been almost two months since he first had sex with the Hooded One. After he and his friends broke up the cult’s ritual, the Hooded One had only appeared in wet dreams, or faint sounds behind this door. Even those sounds might have been from other demons. A whole world lay beyond that door.

But in the past few days the Hooded One had appeared several times, and his presence seemed to be getting more and more part of this world. That acid trip had tricked Richard’s sensitive mind into summoning him, but the other times he had appeared, Richard hadn’t been on acid. And right now, Richard was completely sober.

The smell of brimstone grew stronger. Richard’s body yearned for the pleasures it promised.

How could this be happening? How could the barrier between the demon plane and the real world break down without any sort of ritual or act of willpower on his part?

He needed to find out what was going on. He needed to banish the Hooded One from his mind once and for all. It was the only way he could enjoy a decent relationship with Tyrone. The Hooded One was the real problem keeping them apart. Paco was probably right that Richard was unconsciously disrespecting Tyrone, but no matter how much he learned about his boyfriend’s point of view, there would always be this barrier between them as long as the demon loomed just out of sight.

The Hooded One needed to be banished. But to do that Richard needed to learn how he was crossing the barrier between the two worlds.

Richard knew who he could ask. The problem was, that being lived beyond the door as well.