Written by: Brad
A soft whimper escaped from between dry, cracked lips as the young man slowly passed through the veils of sleep to a state of full consciousness.
“If there’s a god, please let me die now,” he beseeched as the pain in his head reached a new level of intensity. He started to open his eyes but immediately squeezed them shut when the sunlight in the room added to his agony.
“It’s time to rise and shine, kid,” said a soft, disembodied voice next to him. The voice was not totally unfamiliar as he had heard it several times before and always accompanied by the low, unidentifiable, humming sound not unlike that of an almost inaudible motor. “I’ve put a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water on the night table. The condition of the tuxedo you were wearing necessitated it being sent to the cleaners, so there are clean sweats at the foot of the bed for you to put on after you’ve showered. The bathroom is to your right. Just help yourself to clean towels and anything else you need. I’ll expect you at the breakfast table in fifteen minutes or less.” The voice went silent and the humming gradually faded away as a door quietly closed.
The young man moaned as he turned on his side and painstakingly pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed with his head cradled in his hands. Squinting through partially opened eyes, he located and plucked up the little white pills and washed them down with a mouthful of water, then placed the glass back where he found it.
‘I’ll stand up as soon as the room stops spinning,’ he thought as he willed his stomach to return to its’ proper place.
Once he felt confident enough, he grabbed onto the bedside table for support and rose to stand on very wobbly legs. After taking a few moments to steady himself, he plodded his way to the bathroom.
He lost track of time as he gave himself up to the comfort of the hot water cascading down his body. The queasiness in his stomach had abated and the headache was slowly dissipating. ‘God,’ he thought, ‘at this rate I just might feel like living after all.’ He shampooed his straight, waist-length ebony hair before applying a generous amount of conditioner and rinsing it all out. Feeling refreshed, he stepped out of the shower and looked around the well-appointed bathroom as he dried himself off. His artist nature appreciated the work that had gone into decorating the room. Along one wall there was a long vanity with custom-crafted, hand-painted tiles for the back-splash that continued into the extra-large shower surround. It was compact, functional and very pleasing to the eye. Taking advantage of the articles left by the sink, he quickly shaved and cleaned his teeth, then brushed his hair before braiding it.
Wrapping the damp towel around his waist, he walked back into the bedroom to put on the clothing laid out for him. The bedroom was as tastefully decorated as its’ en suite with similar shades and coloring. Floor to ceiling windows adorned one wall and gave access to the warm summer breezes. He dressed in the borrowed outfit, straightened up the area and went to find the kitchen and hopefully the person who the voice belonged to.
The short hallway led to an opened-concept great room, bare of carpeting and walls; the only divisions being set up by the way the furniture was arranged. Two cream-colored, over-stuffed, leather sofas flanked a massive fireplace with a large, square oak coffee table in between and matching tables on either end of each sofa. In one corner next to the bookcase sat twin leather recliners forming a reading area. In another corner was a small office of sorts, complete with desk, filing cabinet and computer system. Off to the side, a dining room table with eight chairs took up a large space, beyond which lay the kitchen area partially surrounded by a bar-type counter. Here too, tall windows dominated the main wall and two sets of French doors led out to a large rooftop patio.
But there was still no sign of the voice’s owner as the young man walked over to the glass doors and looked out onto a spacious deck. He took at the hot tub and thought, ‘Well, somebody sure has it made!’ Hearing that strange humming sound, he whirled around to find himself face-to-face with his host.
“Well, kid, you almost made the fifteen minute dead-line but not quite. You’re three minutes over.” The laughter in the man’s eyes belied his stern features.
“I-I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting,’ the young man sincerely apologized. He didn’t know if he was facing a friend or foe, so he decided to exercise caution until he learned more about the person to whose home he had been taken. He was still having a problem remembering all the events from yesterday and had no idea how he had ended up here. He stood aside to let the other man pass and then followed him into the kitchen.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” the young man offered, watching the other man move smoothly and competently from place to place.
“No, thanks. I’ve got everything pretty much ready. Just take a seat and I’ll be right with you,” the older man explained, as he opened the oven door and used potholders to remove two plates containing bacon, eggs, toast, and hash browns. Setting them on the table, he said, “I’ll just get the coffee, then we can introduce ourselves and get acquainted.”
The young man looked at the plate in front of him. He didn’t think his stomach was in any condition to handle so much but the first forkful surprised him. He was starving.
“When was the last time you ate, kid?”
“Hmmm, I think it was yesterday morning maybe, but I’m not sure,” he mumbled through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He washed it down with a slurp of sweetened coffee before saying more coherently, “This is real good. Thanks! I was hungrier than I thought.”
“Glad you’re enjoying it. My name is Conrad Flynn, but I answer best to Con. What’s yours?”
“Raven….Raven Hunter.”
“How old are you, Raven?”
“I’ll be twenty-two in a couple of months.” Raven didn’t like answering questions about himself but figured he owed the guy something. Besides, he had a few questions of his own. “How old are you?”
“Ten years your senior.” Conrad smiled at the look of surprise on the kid’s face. “Thought I was older, did you?”
“I wasn’t sure. I’m not very good at guessing ages. I just thought….actually I don’t know what I thought.” Raven blushed and squirmed in his chair. “Uumm, what happened to you?” he murmured, pointedly indicating the wheelchair. The mystery surrounding the humming noise had been solved the moment Raven had set eyes on his host.
“Occupational mishap!” Conrad instantly realized the young man wanted more information. “I was involved in a murder investigation when things took a turn for the worse.”
“You’re a cop?” Raven’s eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably, thinking of the condition he must have been in last night and wondering what kind of an impression he had made. ‘Couldn’t have been a good one?’ he groaned.
“Ex-cop!” Conrad smoothly corrected. He understood the young man’s concerns. “Don’t worry about it.”
Raven picked up his coffee mug to hide behind.
“Where do you usually call home, Raven?” Conrad restarted the conversation when his guest remained close-mouthed.
“I don’t,” Raven responded, replacing his cup and picking up his fork.
“Come now, you must live somewhere,” Conrad insisted.
“Yeah, but not for much longer.” Raven stopped talking to shovel more food into his mouth.
“Care to explain yourself, please?” Conrad’s request was made in such a way as to enable his guest to tune-in to it being more of a command.
“For the past year or so, I’ve been sharing a flat with three other guys. One recently got a work transfer to another city and another, for reasons best known to him, got married yesterday. He’s not even in love with the girl, just her family’s money,” Raven grumbled and his lip curled in disdain. “Hence the penguin suit. I skipped out on the reception at the earliest possible moment to find my own fun.”
“Fun which just happened to include getting pissed to the gills in your friendly neighborhood gay bar.”
“Something like that,” Raven answered with a shrug.
“So let me guess. The two of you remaining couldn’t afford to keep the place. Am I close?”
“Right on the money! The last guy decided to go back home and live with his parents. Not that I blame him, if free rent is what he’s looking for. Personally, I don’t think it’s worth it.”
“And your plans are what, exactly?” Conrad prodded.
“Exactly none at this time. Well, none that bear thinking or talking about,” Raven muttered dejectedly.
“Nevertheless, I’m rather interested in hearing about them.”
The man’s persistence was starting to wear on Raven’s nerves. “Why?” he asked, making no attempt at keeping the belligerence out of his tone.
“Let’s just say I might have a proposition for you.” Conrad didn’t want to give much thought to what he was saying for fear of changing his mind. After all, what was this kid to him? Why was he not just giving him the bum’s rush out the door and out of his life? ‘Because you sense a need here!’ he acknowledged to himself.
“For the time being, I’ve moved most my stuff to the shop I work at part-time. Only I’ll have to get it out of there when the owner sells the place.”
“And where exactly is that?”
“Stedman’s Auto Body. He repairs and paints vehicles. I do paragraphics. I’m an artist.”
“I know that place. It’s on the other side of the back alley, not far from this building. Jack used to do some good work before he slowed down to prepare for his retirement. I’d heard he had recently put the business up for sale.” Conrad nodded his head, remembering. “How long have you been working for Jack?”
“Off and on for just over a year,” Raven replied with another shrug. “And who the hell knows what I’m going to do now, or even cares. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” he pouted, in no frame of mind to deal with his problems.
“I have an empty bedroom I can offer you the use of for the next several weeks until my loft mate returns. It will give you time to find something else and look for new employment in case new owners take over Stedman’s and don’t keep you on.” Conrad was surprised at his own offer but didn’t dwell on it.
“What’s the catch?” Raven asked suspiciously.
“No catch! I could use the company and you need a safe haven to plan your next step.”
“This is a fancy place you got here and I can’t pay much.” Raven shyly glanced around, wishing he really could stay here.
“We’ll work something out, okay?” Conrad smiled. He sensed Raven’s desire to accept his proposal as well as the indecision. “It’s going to be okay, Raven. Trust me. God knows you have to start trusting someone sometime!”
The End
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