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〃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