(no subject)
Sorry. Can't stop.
Banner by aliensouldream
Title: High Society (Pt. 13)
Pairing/Characters: Casey, Zeke, a SLEW of OMCs (sorry for that... maybe I'll make a list so people can keep track... I just LOVE OMCs, what can I say?)
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Heavy angst, past-tense abuse
Author's Note: Dedicated to the lovely gloryunderhill!
Synopsis: Set during the Great Depression, there's an industry that's ALWAYS successful, and Casey's desperate--and he's starting to like that desperation.
Previous Parts
It was morning. Casey could tell even with his blurry eyesight. Sunlight was coming through the window, and Casey swore that he heard birds singing outside. He was home; it was a beautiful, winter day in Herrington. There’d be snowball fights and sledding on Old Widow Redding’s farmland, because she loved having kids around to serve hot cocoa to and tell stories. She always told the best stories--Casey couldn’t wait.
He didn’t know how long he’d laid there, lying still but awake, awake but dreary and woozy, before he heard a door open. He managed to turn his heavy head to see who’d come in. Sometimes he overslept, and his father would come wake him by playing his harmonica. “I’m up, Papa,” Casey drawled. Though he still couldn’t focus his eyes well yet, he grew confused; his father’s hair wasn’t that dark.
The figure moved back through the door, and Casey heard muted conversation.
“He’s up.”
“Okay, I’ll go get Stephen…”
“No. You stay here, I’ll get him.”
“Oh… ‘kay.”
“Be back.”
The dark figure left and was replaced by a blond-haired young man, who came inside and got close enough for Casey to see. “Jesus, boy… you’ve made us worry.”
Jamie… New York City. ‘What the hell is wrong with me…’ Casey thought. He swallowed and went to speak, but his throat seemed to spasm, letting Casey feel how raw it was. He fought back a few coughs, swallowed a few more times… “What’s going on?” he managed to ask in a croak.
“You got sick. And you got US pissing our pants,” Jamie replied. He pulled a chair up to the bed and put a hand on Casey’s forehead. “Your fever’s gone down it seems, that’s good.”
Memories of last night trickled into Casey’s brain. Going to Cal’s, leaving Cal’s. Zeke. The snow, the cold. Zeke. “Where’s Zeke?” he asked. Jamie frowned a little.
“He’s getting Stephen to let him know you’ve woken up. Don’t worry about him.”
The sharpest memory suddenly kicked Casey in the head: “Fuck you, Casey. Fuck you forever.” He was about to ask ‘Where’s Zeke?’ again, but the door opened then and Stephen walked in. He carried a mug with something steamy inside.
“Casey?” he said. Jamie moved aside to let the man sit on the edge of the bed.
“Y-Yea?”
“How are you feeling?”
Casey tried assessing himself; how his body felt, his head, whatever else. After a few moments, he cringed. “My head’s pounding and my bones… ow,” he said when he tried to move.
Stephen sighed and put his hand on Casey’s forehead, just as Jamie had. “Still warm, but a lot better than you were on Sunday,” he said.
“Sunday?” Casey blinked furiously. “Wait… what day is it?”
“It’s Tuesday morning. You’ve been out for over a day.”
Casey felt even sicker, hearing this. Never before had he passed out to the point of sleeping through an entire night and day, then another night. “I…”
“Jamie, help me prop him up on his pillows. We need to get something in him,” Stephen said.
Nodding, Jamie came over and waited for instruction. Stephen put the mug on the side table, then Casey found himself being lifted by the man’s strong arms. It made every bone creak and crack. “Ah…” Casey hissed in pain. Now sitting up, Casey felt Jamie rearranging his pillows behind him.
“All right, ease back, now,” Stephen softly said. He helped Casey move until his back was against the pillows and headboard. His head spun in this new position, making him fight to keep consciousness. The mug was picked up again and Stephen brought it to Casey’s lips. “Take some small sips.”
“What’s… it?”
“Alice’s chicken broth; a cure-all.” Stephen smiled weakly. Casey allowed him to hold the back of his head with one hand, the other tipping the rim against Casey’s lips. Hot, fragrant liquid passed through them in small trickles and Casey began swallowing. It did taste wonderful, and the steam wafting over his face was breathed in, soothing his dry sinuses. The mug was drawn back after a few moments; Stephen looked at Casey with an inquiring gaze. “How was that?”
“G-Good,” Casey said.
“Good. Take a few moments to breathe and relax, then you can have more. You don’t want to rush it. Jamie?” Stephen turned his attention to the boy standing nearby. “Can you get Casey a large glass of water?”
“Sure,” Jamie said, then jogged out of the room.
Stephen looked back to Casey and sighed. “Lots of liquids, that’s what the doctor said. He’d managed to give you medicine to control your fever Sunday night and yesterday afternoon; now that you’re up, we’ll give you more.”
Casey watched the man open the drawer on his bedside table; a pill bottle was drawn out. Frowning, Casey asked, “Did he give me pills?” Stephen nodded, prompting Casey to next ask, “How?”
“Well, when you can’t swallow them… there’s only one other way,” Stephen said with a quick shrug.
Wonderful. Casey cringed and closed his eyes; he wanted to sleep, but his brain felt like it was swelling inside of his skull, ready to burst through and explode all over the room.
Jamie returned with the water, and Casey was given that with two pills. “Can you swallow them okay?” Stephen asked.
It’d never been a problem for Casey to take pills, so he nodded and brought the medicine to his lips. He popped them inside, then let Stephen help him with the glass. His throat protested again, but after a few gulps the pills were fully swallowed. “Good job, Casey,” Stephen said. He turned back to Jamie again. “Can you stay with him for a little while, help him drink the broth and water?”
“Sure,” Jamie said. He took Stephen’s seat and smiled. “I’d played ‘nursemaid’ to my younger sister growing up.”
“Good, good. I need to get back to the office, but I’ll be back in just a little while.”
After he made his exit, shutting the door behind him, Jamie sighed and picked up the mug. “Um, I could get a spoon and feed it to you, if that’s easier…?”
“No. I can… just sip,” Casey replied.
“All right. Open that pretty mouth, boy,” Jamie said with a cheeky grin.
Casey did so, letting more of the wonderful concoction into his belly. The more he perked up, the more he glanced to Zeke’s empty bed. He wanted to ask where he was again, but stayed silent.
~*~
Using the bedpan he’d been given wasn’t an option. It didn’t matter that Casey’s head was still throbbing and his legs felt like spaghetti when he stood, for he needed the toilet more than anything else. Knowing that he’d wet his sheets at one point during his sick-sleep was embarrassing enough.
He entered the bathroom, using every bit of concentration he had to stay upright. Sitting on the toilet was a relief; he hung his head and took deep breaths as he relieved himself. He could hear the fun and frivolity going on downstairs in small echoes. People were laughing, music was playing, beds were creaking--everything that was the same, the usual.
That afternoon when Casey had regained his senses, Jamie had been joined by the others, all of them eager to see for themselves that Casey was still alive. Noah had been the most happy, plopping down on the bed and hugging him tight. They didn’t bother to sign, which Casey was glad for. Just talking felt like a task.
Danny had teased him for being a ‘drama queen’ and “You just wanted more time off, I KNOW it.” But it’d been easy to see that the young man had been concerned and was glad to see Casey awake and alert. Everyone was happy, which brightened Casey--a little. Though he cared for the boys, one of them had been missing from the group. Casey had been too self-conscious and worried that people would start suspecting something if he asked where Zeke was, so he let it pass.
Casey stood from the toilet and went to the sinks. The water that ran over his hands felt so, so good. It made him bring some to his face to cool him off, refreshing his skin. After a few more splashes, he turned the water off, grabbed a towel and rubbed his face. His eyes turned to the mirror in front of him; he paused to stare at his reflection. Though color had returned to his cheeks, his eyes were still red-rimmed, the skin underneath them still dark. He looked empty and sad.
“Fuck you, Casey. Fuck you forever.”
At the sound of footsteps from behind, Casey turned to see who was walking in. He stopped dead at the sight of Zeke, his first since their fight. He was naked with his hair tousled, skin glistening with sweat. He didn’t look Casey’s way as he tossed his towel on a bench, went over to the showers and turned one on. The hissing water was deafening.
It was unbearable, watching the young man and his obvious avoidance. Casey wanted to stay until he was finished, but he was starting to feel dizzy again. He needed to lie down… Zeke would need to go to the room to get dressed anyway. With a trembling sigh, Casey walked out of the bathroom and headed back to his bed.
Sure enough, it hadn’t been five minutes before Zeke walked in with his towel wrapped around his waist. Casey watched him go to his bureau drawers and get dressed again. Moving to his side and clutching his pillows with his arms, Casey bit his lip and fought for something to say. There didn’t seem to be any real words in his mind when it came to this, but he needed to try. “Zeke?” he finally said in a murmur.
Nothing. No acknowledgement whatsoever. Zeke slipped a pair of slacks on, leaving them unbuttoned as he sat on the bed to get his socks on.
“Zeke, please…” Casey tried again. “Won’t you talk to me? Please?”
Still nothing. Casey’s heart was sinking and his face went warm, skin prickling with the desire to cry. Even if he didn’t know everything--didn’t know every last detail, he knew enough. It made him feel sick, shallow and stupid. He wanted to rationalize that Cal had simply read things wrong--and he had, which was the only saving grace the man had. The idea that Casey couldn’t have kept his mouth shut, betraying both Cal and Zeke was disheartening.
Casey almost jumped when Zeke made a grunt as he stood. Shoes were slipped on and Zeke moved to the mirror to straighten himself out and fix his hair. Casey almost conceded defeat, but not before he made one last plea. “Please… tonight, after you’re done, we need to talk--”
“Shut up.”
The cold, cruel retort made Casey shudder. “Z-Zeke…”
“If you think I feel bad over your getting sick, think again. There isn’t one modicum of guilt in me over it,” Zeke interrupted again. He finally turned to face Casey, his eyes dark and giving Casey a solid, firm gaze. “I’ve kept my mouth shut, no matter how tempting it’d been to let Stephen know your dirty little secrets. Every day you spend here, every dollar you make, every fucking meal you eat is because of me and my willingness to stay quiet. And believe me, I’ve got enough secrets nagging at my brain that I’ll never tell--it all weighs about a ton to carry around. You owe me, big time. Got it?”
“I…” Casey went to speak, but what could he say? He decided to curl his knees up to his chest and look away; defeated. Done. Zeke flared his nostrils, nodded and left the room to head back downstairs. He shut the door behind him, shutting Casey out.
For the first time since he’d woken, Casey allowed himself to cry. There were no wracking sobs or wails, just a few tears going down his cheeks as he pondered every last little event of the last few days, from Cal making his proposition to this very second. Casey settled his mind on what Cal had told him, revealing half-truths, things he hadn’t known about enough to judge anyone. Considering the source--a tipsy-Danny, of all things, Cal never should have taken anything seriously. There’d been one split-second where Casey had been angry at the loose-lipped boy, but in the end, Casey knew better; especially when Danny had sneaked into his room before his work-night began, all to give him a piece of rich, dark chocolate.
“This shit--guaranteed cure,” he’d said with a wink. Deep down, past all of the crazed antics and callous teasing, Danny wasn’t a bad person. As Zeke had said, Danny had been the one to visit him the most when he’d arrived, broken and sick. And good god, that chocolate HAD been divine. Casey would have to ask him where he’d gotten it.
For now, he stopped the tears and forced himself to think straight. This guilt didn’t have to last forever. Things could work out, even by themselves. Casey hoped with all of his might that he’d manage to get Zeke to listen to him--to accept his deepest, most sincere apologies.
“I’ll never do it again. I promise you that,” he’d say, and he’d keep to it if it meant that Zeke would nod and let things go back to where they were before.
~*~
When he’d fallen asleep, Casey didn’t know; it was morning now, and he was glad to find his headache gone. He now had a small cough, but it felt productive and almost comfortable, as if his body was truly purging the sickness. He sat up to make a few hearty coughs, clearing the thickness in his throat. After his first real deep breath of the day, he stretched wide and looked to Zeke’s bed. For a moment he was concerned, seeing it empty when the clock only read eight-twenty, until he remembered that the boy had breakfast duty. Poor thing.
He decided to dress and go downstairs to let Stephen know that he felt better, and that he could probably take on the rest of the work-week. He’d felt like a slug-a-bug, lying around and not contributing to the household. There’d been enough trouble with him being here so far, and he wanted to clear his record.
A knock came at his door; he finished buttoning his shirt and called, “Come in.” When the door remained closed, he frowned and went to answer it. Upon finding Noah standing there, he chuckled. “Sorry… I’d called out, but…”
Noah smiled weakly and said, ‘Can I come in?’
‘Sure.’ Casey stepped aside to let him into the room. Noah made a sigh and sat on the bed. Looking to the bedside table, he nodded to Casey’s cigarettes--they’d been untouched with his being sick, but he now felt like having one himself.
After they lit up together, Casey seated himself on the bed and put his back to the wall. ‘I’m hungry, which I guess is a good sign,’ he said.
‘Good. I’d been so worried, you being so sick.’
Casey nodded and looked to Noah; before he could say anything more, he noticed the boy’s posture. Noah was gnawing at his thumbnail, looking to his lap. Casey nudged him and asked, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I…’ Noah paused in signing, took another drag and continued. ‘Me and Zeke talked last night, in notes.’
‘After work?’
Noah shook his head. ‘When we went to bed. He’s…” Another pause. ‘Been rooming with me since Sunday. At first it was so he didn’t catch what you had, but now that you’re better… he’s still been using Jose’s old bed.’
Casey regarded Noah a few moments before blinking fast. His mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to reply. Noah sighed again and drew out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Casey, who unfolded it and began to read.
Mind if room with you again? Zeke’s writing ‘asked’.
Sure.
What’s going on, Zeke?
Nothing. Nothing I can talk about, honestly. Sorry.
Does it have to do with Casey?
Good guess.
Casey glanced up to Noah, who was watching Casey with a careful gaze. Swallowing, Casey continued reading.
Well, should I be concerned? He IS my friend. It’s a fair question.
I don’t know. I think he’ll be okay, if he can just settle down and follow the rules. I just found out a few things he’s been doing, and I tried setting him straight. But we argued, pretty bad. Frankly, I’m sick to death dealing with his shit.
Guilt crept in, yet again. Casey rubbed his cheek and looked at Noah, who began signing.
‘Please tell me what happened.’
Casey considered it a moment. When he figured that Noah wouldn’t judge him, his being a good friend, he decided to confide in him. It was only fair. Too tired to sign, he spoke clearly--quietly, but being sure to round out the words for Noah to read without difficulty. He admitted to breaking the most important rule, pausing before saying, “And I met him.” Noah didn’t flinch or react in any way, letting Casey continue. It eased Casey enough to keep revealing his mistakes, the confrontation… when he finished talking, Noah sat up straight and began replying.
‘He doesn’t know that I know about what had gone on… with Marty.’
“How… did you know?”
Noah bit his lip. ‘Like I told you… no one knows that I can read lips. I saw Danny talking to Zeke in the corner of the parlor. Danny looked concerned. I couldn’t help but listen in,’ he said. ‘Danny had walked in on Zeke and Marty’s private room by mistake, when they were with Felix.’
“Who’s Felix?”
‘The one who likes taking two boys at a time. The one who had some sick, weird kinks… like watching a boy get beat-up,’ Noah replied. ‘He hasn’t been here in a while.’
Casey nodded slowly, but he couldn’t say anything. He wanted Noah to keep telling him the details, and he did. ‘Danny had seen Zeke hit Marty, and he was scared about it. And it isn’t often that Danny gets scared. Zeke told him that it was an agreement--that Felix wanted things rough. But we’re not supposed to do things like that. Customers can get rough, but it’s a taboo for US to hurt each other. They kept talking, but they turned away, so I couldn’t get any more details.’
There were so many secrets going around, involving so many people. They had their keepers; Noah, with his lip-reading; Danny, who was in cahoots with Zeke. And Zeke, hiding so many things at once… it had to be an incredible stress. Casey’s indiscretion, one he knew he shouldn’t have delved in, was yet another problem for both of them to deal with. “I almost want to tell Stephen… what I did,” Casey said. “Even if it gets me kicked out. I actually deserve it.”
Noah smiled fondly. ‘You may have made a big mistake, going to Cal. But just don’t do it again. Learn from the mistake.’
“But Stephen--it’s betrayal, is what it is.”
‘Not if you move on and promise him you won’t do it again.’
Casey sniffed and made one lone chuckle. “In order to promise, I’d need to tell.”
‘No, not that way.’ Noah reached over and pointed a finger to Casey’s chest. ‘In there.’
Noah’s words made Casey go still and silent. For someone who couldn’t hear or speak, he could say so much. “Yea,” Casey said, nodding. He looked to Noah and smiled. “Thanks. I knew I could trust you.”
With a wide smile, Noah took Casey’s shoulder to pull him into a warm hug. Casey rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder and held him back, realizing that he could breathe evenly and relax with everything said and done.
~*~
Though Casey felt as if he could start working again, Stephen was still concerned, especially with the boy’s small coughing fits. “No, no… you just got over some serious sickness,” he’d said. He assured Casey that he could start again tomorrow, and if he needed pocket change for the weekend, he’d be given enough to have a nice time. The offer was declined, Casey letting him know that he’d started a nice nest-egg already. This pleased the man to know. “Go upstairs and relax, then. Rest up to take on the weekend.”
So there Casey sat on his bed, sketching memories; he smiled at the picture he created, showing his mother feeding their chickens. He’d just started drawing her bright smile when Zeke entered the room, apparently finished playing chess with Noah. His small frown spoke of a loss. Deciding on a light topic, anything to start communication between them, Casey cleared his throat. “He won, huh?” he asked.
As predicted, Zeke didn’t acknowledge him. He walked over to his shelf, picked a book and went to the door again. Casey swallowed as he disappeared; he didn’t go to the stairwell, however, turning towards where the other bedrooms were. Figuring that he was heading to Noah’s room, Casey stiffened his upper lip.
No matter how upset he was, this was just ridiculous. Casey slapped the sketchbook onto the bed, stood and looked down the hall. Sure enough, Noah’s door was cracked open and a light was shining from within the room. Casey stood straighter and ventured down. He didn’t bother to knock; Zeke looked up from his laying-down position on Jose’s bed and stared at the boy for a few moments… then went back to his reading.
Now or never. Casey shut the door and looked at Zeke with a hard gaze. “No matter what I said or what I did, you’re being a baby,” he said. “What you’re doing--avoiding me and acting like I’m full of disease--how bad do you want me to feel?”
Zeke shook his head slowly, still reading. A wild temper-tantrum was threatening Casey with every move of Zeke’s eyes on the page he scanned. It was starting to come out in trembling fingers and quick, uneven breaths. “Answer m-me. Say something. Please,” Casey begged.
A snarl formed on Zeke’s upper lip; instead of replying as Casey wanted, he shut his book and rose to a stand. He was looking past Casey to the door--he intended to leave. Again. An odd desperation slammed into Casey when Zeke’s arm brushed his in reaching for the doorknob; without thinking, he pushed Zeke’s hand away from it and threw his arms around the young man’s middle. He stayed there, holding onto Zeke hard.
Zeke himself wasn’t moving--or breathing, judging by the stillness of his chest against Casey’s cheek. His arms stayed open as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Casey squeezed his eyes shut and listened to Zeke’s heartbeat; it was fluttering fast, beating like a frantic bird’s wings.
“I was wrong. So, so wrong. I can’t be any more sorry than I am already,” Casey finally spoke. “You said you could kill me. And you are. I hate this--I hate my-self for what I did, how I hurt you--”
“Casey,” Zeke interrupted. He took a deep breath and let his arms fall to his sides. “Get… back to the room.”
“Only if you come with me. Only if you talk to me.”
“Fine.”
Casey slipped away from the boy and stared at the floor as they left Noah’s room to head to their own. Once they were there, Casey entered first, Zeke shutting the door behind them both. It was quiet again but they were here, and Zeke wasn’t leaving. His knuckles tapped the cover of his book, which he stared at as if studying it. Casey sat on the edge of his bed, holding the edges of it in a tight grasp. It was as if he was preparing for a fall.
“I’ve been acting like a brat.”
Zeke’s words made Casey look over at him with an inquiring gaze. “You’ve… been angry. That’s all.”
“No. I yell at you all the time for being dramatic; it’s me this time. Fuck, I can flounce with the best of ‘em, so I have nothing to defend myself with here,” Zeke said. He rolled his eyes and walked to his bed. Cigarettes were snatched up; Casey studied his lap as Zeke lit up. “Hey.”
Casey looked up, finding that Zeke had lit two. The first peace offering made; Casey reached over and took it. “Thanks,” he murmured.
They smoked in silence for a few moments. It was welcome at this point. Everything that had reached a boiling point was getting taken from the heat to cool in just their sitting in the same room, sending clouds of smoke into the air around them. Finally, Casey took a deep breath and looked right at Zeke. “What I did… deserved your anger. And I didn’t have the right to say what I did when you were standing there, giving me… well, an alibi, for fuck’s sake.”
Zeke rubbed his eyes with his fingers, kneading them lightly. “Yea, I was angry. But the more I think about it, the more I can’t blame you--at least for what you said to me.” He took a deep drag and let the hand at his eyes drop. “You’d been told… that your dead friend had been hurt, by me, and reacted.”
“But…”
“No, be quiet. Let me talk, or I’m gonna lose track.”
Casey settled back, letting the bed’s edge go to rest his hands in his now-folded legs. “Okay.”
“You were right, about more things than one. The ‘breaking rules’ accusation? You don’t even know,” Zeke said. He flicked ash in the ashtray and stared at the glowing ember at the end of the cigarette. It seemed to entrance him as he went on speaking, his tone soft and low. “I did cater to a customer’s ‘sadist fetish’, one they weren’t willing to do themselves. They wanted to watch someone else do it. When he bought time with me and Martin that first time, he’d told Stephen that he wanted things rough. Stephen assumed that he was going to dole out the usual spanking or other some-such shit, but when we got upstairs, he told us what he really wanted.”
“For you to hurt Martin.”
“Mmhmm. We told him that something like that wasn’t a part of the ‘package’… then he brought out his wallet,” Zeke said. “Before I could say no to that shit, Martin gave me this look--he spent money like water, that one. Such a sweet kid, but he was shit with his finances. He’d get warned by Stephen, even the other boys, because of the nest-egg Stephen wants us all to have. So… the temptation was too much for him to turn down. I don’t know or remember how he convinced me. Fuck knew I didn’t need any big tips. I was doing just fine.”
Casey could read the volumes of confusion and sadness in Zeke’s expression alone. “And… that’s not something we’re supposed to do,” Casey said. Zeke nodded slowly.
“It’s never explicitly stated, but it’s obvious. It’s like… we all need to work together, LIVE together. Something like beating on each other, pretending to… force…” Zeke definitely faltered and needed to pause before going on. Another drag, deep breath… “That’s not how we treat each other, whether it’s pretend or not. Martin acted unaffected by it, happy with the big tips Felix gave. That guy came two or three times a week, always wanting the same thing. I mean, he covered for us. He’d always say that he’d been the one to bruise Martin, but if anyone looked close enough, they’d be able to tell. My hands were about twice the size of Felix’s. Put our hands up to compare with the bruises and that’s all you’d need to know.”
“I… remember.”
“What?”
“His bruises. There was a hand-shaped one that wrapped around his arm at one point,” Casey said with realization; looking to Zeke, he found him squirming uncomfortably. “God… has this Felix-guy been back since then?”
“No.”
“Good. The bastard.”
“No, Casey, he just--he wasn’t evil or terrible. He just had really strange kinks. Add a few drinks and the fact that he couldn’t actually get hard, even with the most extreme scenes playing out for him and you get a really, really messed up fetishist,” Zeke explained. “I’d almost feel bad for him. He’d be trying to jerk off, giving orders, and he just couldn’t get it up.”
“I don’t care. He used you and Marty, flashing dollar bills in your faces all to…”
“Dollar bills? Try fives, or tens. He was the richest, most eccentric one of the bunch,” Zeke said. He made a small, sad smirk. “And Marty would blow it all in one afternoon. I found out later that he’d waste money gambling; he wanted a quick-fix, to get out of this place. He never fucking belonged here. He didn’t find any sort of peace with it.”
“Then Danny found out,” Casey said.
“Yea. Blundered in, mistaking our room for his. I don’t wanna get into that; that’s between me and Danny,” Zeke replied. Casey nodded; he didn’t need to poke and prod on the issue. Zeke was letting go of enough, and judging by how he looked he was about to let the dam break a little more. Casey swore he saw tears in his eyes as he muttered, “Then he got sick.”
“And… oh god,” Casey said. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“If you were always around him… shit, what about everyone else?”
“We all lucked somehow. He wasn’t that high in demand, so… but who knows how long he was sick before the signs came…” Zeke’s brow furrowed. “I’d--been, my hands--fuck.”
“What?” Casey tentatively asked.
Zeke pursed his lips and closed his eyes. “Felix wanted me to choke him. I made sure to be careful, even if Felix kept telling me to go harder. Martin suddenly started coughing, hard, so I let go to turn him on his side and pat his back. I asked him if he was all right, and when he took his hand from his mouth to answer, there was blood.”
“Oh… no…” Casey shook his head. “Oh god, Zeke--”
“I thought I was killing him. I panicked and pulled the chain. All hell broke loose… I n-needed to have Felix on the other side of the room and get in front of the guards, tell them what was going on,” Zeke explained, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Everyone was shooed out and told to be tested. Needless to say, it was a slow week after that.”
Casey didn’t care if Zeke was still prickly with defenses. He couldn’t justify sitting across the room from him; he took the space between them and sat by Zeke. The young man didn’t flinch or move away when Casey put a hand on his arm and rubbed it lightly. “Don’t tell me you blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault,” Casey said.
“It took a long goddamned time for me to realize that. But I still fight with it. In my mind, I can still fucking see him, choking and… fuck,” Zeke snuffed his finished cigarette out, then lit another. Casey joined along. Zeke sat back against the wall and stared at Casey’s bed. “I wasn’t even scared for myself. They took me out of the room, got me tested--cleared, and yea, thank god. But… I dunno.”
“I remember the day I heard about it. A common friend at the art house we’d both go to,” Casey said. “I’d been wondering why I hadn’t seen him around for a few weeks. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I found out.”
“You know how I always go on about Stephen being a good guy?” Zeke said. At Casey’s nod, Zeke dropped his eyes to his cigarette as he flicked it in the tray. “There’s this saying, ‘Whores don’t get headstones’. Every story you’ve ever heard about prostitutes getting killed on the streets, none of them get burials. No family can be tracked down, and no one else cares. Most would rather see a dead whore strung up in the streets as a warning to others,” Zeke’s face relaxed and he almost smiled. “But if you go to Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, you’ll find Martin on Strawberry Path; something you can’t forget since--”
“He was obsessed with strawberries,” Casey finished for him, smiling fondly. Zeke chuckled.
“He’d even use strawberry-flavored lip balm. How queer is that?”
“Very.”
“So… yea,” Zeke said with a sigh. He leaned forward onto his knees. “Stephen didn’t have to do that, y’know? He could’ve had the coroner get rid of him somehow, have a school use his body for science, or do a cheap cremation. Whatever. But we all loved the kid, so Stephen made sure he got a final resting place. The funeral was small--just us--but beautiful.”
“I… wish I’d known,” Casey murmured. “I would’ve gone.”
Zeke looked to the boy, bit his lip and slipped an arm around Casey’s back. He pulled him in against his side and they sat together, a calm settling in. Casey made a small sniffle and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed what Cal said, or at least--”
“It’s gonna be hard not to deck him the next time he shows up,” Zeke blurted. “I didn’t think he was anything special before all this, but now?”
“Don’t, Zeke. It’s okay. He was just concerned. I’ll tell him the truth, so he doesn’t think--”
“No.” Zeke interrupted him again. Still holding Casey’s shoulders, he turned his face down to give him a hard look. “Let him think whatever shit he wants to think. If you tell him about what I told you, he’ll KNOW we talked; if he’s angry enough about that, he could cause trouble. Last thing we fuckin’ need.”
Casey sighed, feeling morose. “I… had promised that I wouldn’t say anything about it. So I guess--yea. I won’t bring it up.”
“He’d arranged your little ’meeting’, hadn’t he? No, never mind. He did,” Zeke said. He sniffed hard and held onto Casey’s opposite shoulder tighter. “Did he tell you that ’story’ as a kind of warning?”
“Well… yes,” Casey said. He blushed and bit his lower lip. “I told him that I thought you were handsome.”
“Oh yea?” Zeke said with a note of amusement. Casey smirked and looked down at the floor; his head lifted up then down with the large intake of breath Zeke took. “So the bastard’s jealous, you paying attention to another guy.”
“Maybe.”
“When he comes back… we’re acting like nothing happened. I’ll sit at the bar and smile in his face then give him the evil eye when his back is turned. Whatever. When he buys your time, just act like he’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, just like he wants to think.”
“Well… he kinda is,” Casey said, chuckling. When Zeke cocked an eyebrow his way, Casey scoffed. “Oh, come on. I DO like him, even if he was a nosy, misinformed idiot.”
Zeke rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You haven’t had me yet. You’d change your mind.”
“Oh? ‘Yet’?” Casey said. “Is that an offer?”
With a snort, Zeke held Casey closer and rubbed his arm. “We’ve broken enough rules to have us both in the kitchens until we’re old and gray,” he said. He noticed Casey’s exaggerated pout and snorted again. “Shut up.”
“’Didn’t say anything,” Casey replied. “Not a thing.”
“Mmhmm. Do me a favor, okay?” Zeke asked. “If he’s gonna tell you to ‘be careful’ around me, I’m gonna say the same. I know you like him, that he makes you feel special. That’s fine, whatever--but don’t fuck yourself up because he wants you to come around. He wants you so bad, he’ll pay for it.”
“It’s hard sometimes, though. Cos’… okay, I DO like him, like I said. It feels real to me.”
“Of course it does. He says sweet things to you. He might even mean it, but it comes down to you staying here, staying safe, well-fed--or taking a chance on a guy who hangs out in a whorehouse and fucks young boys.”
When Zeke put it that way… but Casey was special. Wasn’t he? He didn’t want to think about it. Things were resolved; they were talking, a lot, about every-little-thing. “I get it,” Casey finally replied.
“Good,” Zeke said. “So. I’m handsome, huh?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Yea. I knew that.”
“Oh, come on.” Casey poked Zeke’s side with his finger, over and over again.
“Ow, cut it out,” Zeke said, slapping Casey’s hand away.
“Whiny bitch,” Casey said. “Like that really hurt.”
“Hey, Casey…” Zeke said in a low voice. He dipped his head down to the boy’s ear and smiled against it as he whispered, “Don’t think I haven’t looked back.”
Casey’s thighs went warm. Still… “Rules.”
“Yup.”
With a blush now on his face and a smile crossing his lips, Casey closed his eyes and rested his head on Zeke’s chest. They said and did nothing more, choosing to sit in comfortable silence together. It had to be an hour later when they heard Danny yell, “I’m fucking HUNGRY, when is six gonna get here? Fuck’s sake!” out in the hall. As Henry yelled at him to lick the toilets clean if he was ‘that fucking hungry!’, both Casey and Zeke fell into giggle fits.
“Fuckin’ Danny…” Zeke said.
“I’m hungry too, though,” Casey replied. He finally moved away from Zeke, stood and stretched. “Another night off for me.”
“Yea, yea, good for you,” Zeke said. He then put his head back on the wall and blinked slowly. “Hey Casey?”
“Yea?”
“I wouldn’t have killed you.”
Casey rolled his eyes. “I know that, dummy.”
“I’m sorry. For throwing you around. I lied before,” Zeke said. “Part of the reason I roomed with Noah was just…”
“HEY!” Henry suddenly burst into the room, making the two of them leap a few feet in the air.
“What the FUCK, Hen??” Zeke bellowed.
“It’s Danny! He’s fucking licking a toilet!”
“What??” both Casey and Zeke said in unison.
“He’ll do anything for a dollar! Come on, Noah has a camera!”
~*~
Banner by aliensouldream
Title: High Society (Pt. 13)
Pairing/Characters: Casey, Zeke, a SLEW of OMCs (sorry for that... maybe I'll make a list so people can keep track... I just LOVE OMCs, what can I say?)
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Heavy angst, past-tense abuse
Author's Note: Dedicated to the lovely gloryunderhill!
Synopsis: Set during the Great Depression, there's an industry that's ALWAYS successful, and Casey's desperate--and he's starting to like that desperation.
Previous Parts
It was morning. Casey could tell even with his blurry eyesight. Sunlight was coming through the window, and Casey swore that he heard birds singing outside. He was home; it was a beautiful, winter day in Herrington. There’d be snowball fights and sledding on Old Widow Redding’s farmland, because she loved having kids around to serve hot cocoa to and tell stories. She always told the best stories--Casey couldn’t wait.
He didn’t know how long he’d laid there, lying still but awake, awake but dreary and woozy, before he heard a door open. He managed to turn his heavy head to see who’d come in. Sometimes he overslept, and his father would come wake him by playing his harmonica. “I’m up, Papa,” Casey drawled. Though he still couldn’t focus his eyes well yet, he grew confused; his father’s hair wasn’t that dark.
The figure moved back through the door, and Casey heard muted conversation.
“He’s up.”
“Okay, I’ll go get Stephen…”
“No. You stay here, I’ll get him.”
“Oh… ‘kay.”
“Be back.”
The dark figure left and was replaced by a blond-haired young man, who came inside and got close enough for Casey to see. “Jesus, boy… you’ve made us worry.”
Jamie… New York City. ‘What the hell is wrong with me…’ Casey thought. He swallowed and went to speak, but his throat seemed to spasm, letting Casey feel how raw it was. He fought back a few coughs, swallowed a few more times… “What’s going on?” he managed to ask in a croak.
“You got sick. And you got US pissing our pants,” Jamie replied. He pulled a chair up to the bed and put a hand on Casey’s forehead. “Your fever’s gone down it seems, that’s good.”
Memories of last night trickled into Casey’s brain. Going to Cal’s, leaving Cal’s. Zeke. The snow, the cold. Zeke. “Where’s Zeke?” he asked. Jamie frowned a little.
“He’s getting Stephen to let him know you’ve woken up. Don’t worry about him.”
The sharpest memory suddenly kicked Casey in the head: “Fuck you, Casey. Fuck you forever.” He was about to ask ‘Where’s Zeke?’ again, but the door opened then and Stephen walked in. He carried a mug with something steamy inside.
“Casey?” he said. Jamie moved aside to let the man sit on the edge of the bed.
“Y-Yea?”
“How are you feeling?”
Casey tried assessing himself; how his body felt, his head, whatever else. After a few moments, he cringed. “My head’s pounding and my bones… ow,” he said when he tried to move.
Stephen sighed and put his hand on Casey’s forehead, just as Jamie had. “Still warm, but a lot better than you were on Sunday,” he said.
“Sunday?” Casey blinked furiously. “Wait… what day is it?”
“It’s Tuesday morning. You’ve been out for over a day.”
Casey felt even sicker, hearing this. Never before had he passed out to the point of sleeping through an entire night and day, then another night. “I…”
“Jamie, help me prop him up on his pillows. We need to get something in him,” Stephen said.
Nodding, Jamie came over and waited for instruction. Stephen put the mug on the side table, then Casey found himself being lifted by the man’s strong arms. It made every bone creak and crack. “Ah…” Casey hissed in pain. Now sitting up, Casey felt Jamie rearranging his pillows behind him.
“All right, ease back, now,” Stephen softly said. He helped Casey move until his back was against the pillows and headboard. His head spun in this new position, making him fight to keep consciousness. The mug was picked up again and Stephen brought it to Casey’s lips. “Take some small sips.”
“What’s… it?”
“Alice’s chicken broth; a cure-all.” Stephen smiled weakly. Casey allowed him to hold the back of his head with one hand, the other tipping the rim against Casey’s lips. Hot, fragrant liquid passed through them in small trickles and Casey began swallowing. It did taste wonderful, and the steam wafting over his face was breathed in, soothing his dry sinuses. The mug was drawn back after a few moments; Stephen looked at Casey with an inquiring gaze. “How was that?”
“G-Good,” Casey said.
“Good. Take a few moments to breathe and relax, then you can have more. You don’t want to rush it. Jamie?” Stephen turned his attention to the boy standing nearby. “Can you get Casey a large glass of water?”
“Sure,” Jamie said, then jogged out of the room.
Stephen looked back to Casey and sighed. “Lots of liquids, that’s what the doctor said. He’d managed to give you medicine to control your fever Sunday night and yesterday afternoon; now that you’re up, we’ll give you more.”
Casey watched the man open the drawer on his bedside table; a pill bottle was drawn out. Frowning, Casey asked, “Did he give me pills?” Stephen nodded, prompting Casey to next ask, “How?”
“Well, when you can’t swallow them… there’s only one other way,” Stephen said with a quick shrug.
Wonderful. Casey cringed and closed his eyes; he wanted to sleep, but his brain felt like it was swelling inside of his skull, ready to burst through and explode all over the room.
Jamie returned with the water, and Casey was given that with two pills. “Can you swallow them okay?” Stephen asked.
It’d never been a problem for Casey to take pills, so he nodded and brought the medicine to his lips. He popped them inside, then let Stephen help him with the glass. His throat protested again, but after a few gulps the pills were fully swallowed. “Good job, Casey,” Stephen said. He turned back to Jamie again. “Can you stay with him for a little while, help him drink the broth and water?”
“Sure,” Jamie said. He took Stephen’s seat and smiled. “I’d played ‘nursemaid’ to my younger sister growing up.”
“Good, good. I need to get back to the office, but I’ll be back in just a little while.”
After he made his exit, shutting the door behind him, Jamie sighed and picked up the mug. “Um, I could get a spoon and feed it to you, if that’s easier…?”
“No. I can… just sip,” Casey replied.
“All right. Open that pretty mouth, boy,” Jamie said with a cheeky grin.
Casey did so, letting more of the wonderful concoction into his belly. The more he perked up, the more he glanced to Zeke’s empty bed. He wanted to ask where he was again, but stayed silent.
~*~
Using the bedpan he’d been given wasn’t an option. It didn’t matter that Casey’s head was still throbbing and his legs felt like spaghetti when he stood, for he needed the toilet more than anything else. Knowing that he’d wet his sheets at one point during his sick-sleep was embarrassing enough.
He entered the bathroom, using every bit of concentration he had to stay upright. Sitting on the toilet was a relief; he hung his head and took deep breaths as he relieved himself. He could hear the fun and frivolity going on downstairs in small echoes. People were laughing, music was playing, beds were creaking--everything that was the same, the usual.
That afternoon when Casey had regained his senses, Jamie had been joined by the others, all of them eager to see for themselves that Casey was still alive. Noah had been the most happy, plopping down on the bed and hugging him tight. They didn’t bother to sign, which Casey was glad for. Just talking felt like a task.
Danny had teased him for being a ‘drama queen’ and “You just wanted more time off, I KNOW it.” But it’d been easy to see that the young man had been concerned and was glad to see Casey awake and alert. Everyone was happy, which brightened Casey--a little. Though he cared for the boys, one of them had been missing from the group. Casey had been too self-conscious and worried that people would start suspecting something if he asked where Zeke was, so he let it pass.
Casey stood from the toilet and went to the sinks. The water that ran over his hands felt so, so good. It made him bring some to his face to cool him off, refreshing his skin. After a few more splashes, he turned the water off, grabbed a towel and rubbed his face. His eyes turned to the mirror in front of him; he paused to stare at his reflection. Though color had returned to his cheeks, his eyes were still red-rimmed, the skin underneath them still dark. He looked empty and sad.
“Fuck you, Casey. Fuck you forever.”
At the sound of footsteps from behind, Casey turned to see who was walking in. He stopped dead at the sight of Zeke, his first since their fight. He was naked with his hair tousled, skin glistening with sweat. He didn’t look Casey’s way as he tossed his towel on a bench, went over to the showers and turned one on. The hissing water was deafening.
It was unbearable, watching the young man and his obvious avoidance. Casey wanted to stay until he was finished, but he was starting to feel dizzy again. He needed to lie down… Zeke would need to go to the room to get dressed anyway. With a trembling sigh, Casey walked out of the bathroom and headed back to his bed.
Sure enough, it hadn’t been five minutes before Zeke walked in with his towel wrapped around his waist. Casey watched him go to his bureau drawers and get dressed again. Moving to his side and clutching his pillows with his arms, Casey bit his lip and fought for something to say. There didn’t seem to be any real words in his mind when it came to this, but he needed to try. “Zeke?” he finally said in a murmur.
Nothing. No acknowledgement whatsoever. Zeke slipped a pair of slacks on, leaving them unbuttoned as he sat on the bed to get his socks on.
“Zeke, please…” Casey tried again. “Won’t you talk to me? Please?”
Still nothing. Casey’s heart was sinking and his face went warm, skin prickling with the desire to cry. Even if he didn’t know everything--didn’t know every last detail, he knew enough. It made him feel sick, shallow and stupid. He wanted to rationalize that Cal had simply read things wrong--and he had, which was the only saving grace the man had. The idea that Casey couldn’t have kept his mouth shut, betraying both Cal and Zeke was disheartening.
Casey almost jumped when Zeke made a grunt as he stood. Shoes were slipped on and Zeke moved to the mirror to straighten himself out and fix his hair. Casey almost conceded defeat, but not before he made one last plea. “Please… tonight, after you’re done, we need to talk--”
“Shut up.”
The cold, cruel retort made Casey shudder. “Z-Zeke…”
“If you think I feel bad over your getting sick, think again. There isn’t one modicum of guilt in me over it,” Zeke interrupted again. He finally turned to face Casey, his eyes dark and giving Casey a solid, firm gaze. “I’ve kept my mouth shut, no matter how tempting it’d been to let Stephen know your dirty little secrets. Every day you spend here, every dollar you make, every fucking meal you eat is because of me and my willingness to stay quiet. And believe me, I’ve got enough secrets nagging at my brain that I’ll never tell--it all weighs about a ton to carry around. You owe me, big time. Got it?”
“I…” Casey went to speak, but what could he say? He decided to curl his knees up to his chest and look away; defeated. Done. Zeke flared his nostrils, nodded and left the room to head back downstairs. He shut the door behind him, shutting Casey out.
For the first time since he’d woken, Casey allowed himself to cry. There were no wracking sobs or wails, just a few tears going down his cheeks as he pondered every last little event of the last few days, from Cal making his proposition to this very second. Casey settled his mind on what Cal had told him, revealing half-truths, things he hadn’t known about enough to judge anyone. Considering the source--a tipsy-Danny, of all things, Cal never should have taken anything seriously. There’d been one split-second where Casey had been angry at the loose-lipped boy, but in the end, Casey knew better; especially when Danny had sneaked into his room before his work-night began, all to give him a piece of rich, dark chocolate.
“This shit--guaranteed cure,” he’d said with a wink. Deep down, past all of the crazed antics and callous teasing, Danny wasn’t a bad person. As Zeke had said, Danny had been the one to visit him the most when he’d arrived, broken and sick. And good god, that chocolate HAD been divine. Casey would have to ask him where he’d gotten it.
For now, he stopped the tears and forced himself to think straight. This guilt didn’t have to last forever. Things could work out, even by themselves. Casey hoped with all of his might that he’d manage to get Zeke to listen to him--to accept his deepest, most sincere apologies.
“I’ll never do it again. I promise you that,” he’d say, and he’d keep to it if it meant that Zeke would nod and let things go back to where they were before.
~*~
When he’d fallen asleep, Casey didn’t know; it was morning now, and he was glad to find his headache gone. He now had a small cough, but it felt productive and almost comfortable, as if his body was truly purging the sickness. He sat up to make a few hearty coughs, clearing the thickness in his throat. After his first real deep breath of the day, he stretched wide and looked to Zeke’s bed. For a moment he was concerned, seeing it empty when the clock only read eight-twenty, until he remembered that the boy had breakfast duty. Poor thing.
He decided to dress and go downstairs to let Stephen know that he felt better, and that he could probably take on the rest of the work-week. He’d felt like a slug-a-bug, lying around and not contributing to the household. There’d been enough trouble with him being here so far, and he wanted to clear his record.
A knock came at his door; he finished buttoning his shirt and called, “Come in.” When the door remained closed, he frowned and went to answer it. Upon finding Noah standing there, he chuckled. “Sorry… I’d called out, but…”
Noah smiled weakly and said, ‘Can I come in?’
‘Sure.’ Casey stepped aside to let him into the room. Noah made a sigh and sat on the bed. Looking to the bedside table, he nodded to Casey’s cigarettes--they’d been untouched with his being sick, but he now felt like having one himself.
After they lit up together, Casey seated himself on the bed and put his back to the wall. ‘I’m hungry, which I guess is a good sign,’ he said.
‘Good. I’d been so worried, you being so sick.’
Casey nodded and looked to Noah; before he could say anything more, he noticed the boy’s posture. Noah was gnawing at his thumbnail, looking to his lap. Casey nudged him and asked, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I…’ Noah paused in signing, took another drag and continued. ‘Me and Zeke talked last night, in notes.’
‘After work?’
Noah shook his head. ‘When we went to bed. He’s…” Another pause. ‘Been rooming with me since Sunday. At first it was so he didn’t catch what you had, but now that you’re better… he’s still been using Jose’s old bed.’
Casey regarded Noah a few moments before blinking fast. His mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to reply. Noah sighed again and drew out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He handed it to Casey, who unfolded it and began to read.
Mind if room with you again? Zeke’s writing ‘asked’.
Sure.
What’s going on, Zeke?
Nothing. Nothing I can talk about, honestly. Sorry.
Does it have to do with Casey?
Good guess.
Casey glanced up to Noah, who was watching Casey with a careful gaze. Swallowing, Casey continued reading.
Well, should I be concerned? He IS my friend. It’s a fair question.
I don’t know. I think he’ll be okay, if he can just settle down and follow the rules. I just found out a few things he’s been doing, and I tried setting him straight. But we argued, pretty bad. Frankly, I’m sick to death dealing with his shit.
Guilt crept in, yet again. Casey rubbed his cheek and looked at Noah, who began signing.
‘Please tell me what happened.’
Casey considered it a moment. When he figured that Noah wouldn’t judge him, his being a good friend, he decided to confide in him. It was only fair. Too tired to sign, he spoke clearly--quietly, but being sure to round out the words for Noah to read without difficulty. He admitted to breaking the most important rule, pausing before saying, “And I met him.” Noah didn’t flinch or react in any way, letting Casey continue. It eased Casey enough to keep revealing his mistakes, the confrontation… when he finished talking, Noah sat up straight and began replying.
‘He doesn’t know that I know about what had gone on… with Marty.’
“How… did you know?”
Noah bit his lip. ‘Like I told you… no one knows that I can read lips. I saw Danny talking to Zeke in the corner of the parlor. Danny looked concerned. I couldn’t help but listen in,’ he said. ‘Danny had walked in on Zeke and Marty’s private room by mistake, when they were with Felix.’
“Who’s Felix?”
‘The one who likes taking two boys at a time. The one who had some sick, weird kinks… like watching a boy get beat-up,’ Noah replied. ‘He hasn’t been here in a while.’
Casey nodded slowly, but he couldn’t say anything. He wanted Noah to keep telling him the details, and he did. ‘Danny had seen Zeke hit Marty, and he was scared about it. And it isn’t often that Danny gets scared. Zeke told him that it was an agreement--that Felix wanted things rough. But we’re not supposed to do things like that. Customers can get rough, but it’s a taboo for US to hurt each other. They kept talking, but they turned away, so I couldn’t get any more details.’
There were so many secrets going around, involving so many people. They had their keepers; Noah, with his lip-reading; Danny, who was in cahoots with Zeke. And Zeke, hiding so many things at once… it had to be an incredible stress. Casey’s indiscretion, one he knew he shouldn’t have delved in, was yet another problem for both of them to deal with. “I almost want to tell Stephen… what I did,” Casey said. “Even if it gets me kicked out. I actually deserve it.”
Noah smiled fondly. ‘You may have made a big mistake, going to Cal. But just don’t do it again. Learn from the mistake.’
“But Stephen--it’s betrayal, is what it is.”
‘Not if you move on and promise him you won’t do it again.’
Casey sniffed and made one lone chuckle. “In order to promise, I’d need to tell.”
‘No, not that way.’ Noah reached over and pointed a finger to Casey’s chest. ‘In there.’
Noah’s words made Casey go still and silent. For someone who couldn’t hear or speak, he could say so much. “Yea,” Casey said, nodding. He looked to Noah and smiled. “Thanks. I knew I could trust you.”
With a wide smile, Noah took Casey’s shoulder to pull him into a warm hug. Casey rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder and held him back, realizing that he could breathe evenly and relax with everything said and done.
~*~
Though Casey felt as if he could start working again, Stephen was still concerned, especially with the boy’s small coughing fits. “No, no… you just got over some serious sickness,” he’d said. He assured Casey that he could start again tomorrow, and if he needed pocket change for the weekend, he’d be given enough to have a nice time. The offer was declined, Casey letting him know that he’d started a nice nest-egg already. This pleased the man to know. “Go upstairs and relax, then. Rest up to take on the weekend.”
So there Casey sat on his bed, sketching memories; he smiled at the picture he created, showing his mother feeding their chickens. He’d just started drawing her bright smile when Zeke entered the room, apparently finished playing chess with Noah. His small frown spoke of a loss. Deciding on a light topic, anything to start communication between them, Casey cleared his throat. “He won, huh?” he asked.
As predicted, Zeke didn’t acknowledge him. He walked over to his shelf, picked a book and went to the door again. Casey swallowed as he disappeared; he didn’t go to the stairwell, however, turning towards where the other bedrooms were. Figuring that he was heading to Noah’s room, Casey stiffened his upper lip.
No matter how upset he was, this was just ridiculous. Casey slapped the sketchbook onto the bed, stood and looked down the hall. Sure enough, Noah’s door was cracked open and a light was shining from within the room. Casey stood straighter and ventured down. He didn’t bother to knock; Zeke looked up from his laying-down position on Jose’s bed and stared at the boy for a few moments… then went back to his reading.
Now or never. Casey shut the door and looked at Zeke with a hard gaze. “No matter what I said or what I did, you’re being a baby,” he said. “What you’re doing--avoiding me and acting like I’m full of disease--how bad do you want me to feel?”
Zeke shook his head slowly, still reading. A wild temper-tantrum was threatening Casey with every move of Zeke’s eyes on the page he scanned. It was starting to come out in trembling fingers and quick, uneven breaths. “Answer m-me. Say something. Please,” Casey begged.
A snarl formed on Zeke’s upper lip; instead of replying as Casey wanted, he shut his book and rose to a stand. He was looking past Casey to the door--he intended to leave. Again. An odd desperation slammed into Casey when Zeke’s arm brushed his in reaching for the doorknob; without thinking, he pushed Zeke’s hand away from it and threw his arms around the young man’s middle. He stayed there, holding onto Zeke hard.
Zeke himself wasn’t moving--or breathing, judging by the stillness of his chest against Casey’s cheek. His arms stayed open as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Casey squeezed his eyes shut and listened to Zeke’s heartbeat; it was fluttering fast, beating like a frantic bird’s wings.
“I was wrong. So, so wrong. I can’t be any more sorry than I am already,” Casey finally spoke. “You said you could kill me. And you are. I hate this--I hate my-self for what I did, how I hurt you--”
“Casey,” Zeke interrupted. He took a deep breath and let his arms fall to his sides. “Get… back to the room.”
“Only if you come with me. Only if you talk to me.”
“Fine.”
Casey slipped away from the boy and stared at the floor as they left Noah’s room to head to their own. Once they were there, Casey entered first, Zeke shutting the door behind them both. It was quiet again but they were here, and Zeke wasn’t leaving. His knuckles tapped the cover of his book, which he stared at as if studying it. Casey sat on the edge of his bed, holding the edges of it in a tight grasp. It was as if he was preparing for a fall.
“I’ve been acting like a brat.”
Zeke’s words made Casey look over at him with an inquiring gaze. “You’ve… been angry. That’s all.”
“No. I yell at you all the time for being dramatic; it’s me this time. Fuck, I can flounce with the best of ‘em, so I have nothing to defend myself with here,” Zeke said. He rolled his eyes and walked to his bed. Cigarettes were snatched up; Casey studied his lap as Zeke lit up. “Hey.”
Casey looked up, finding that Zeke had lit two. The first peace offering made; Casey reached over and took it. “Thanks,” he murmured.
They smoked in silence for a few moments. It was welcome at this point. Everything that had reached a boiling point was getting taken from the heat to cool in just their sitting in the same room, sending clouds of smoke into the air around them. Finally, Casey took a deep breath and looked right at Zeke. “What I did… deserved your anger. And I didn’t have the right to say what I did when you were standing there, giving me… well, an alibi, for fuck’s sake.”
Zeke rubbed his eyes with his fingers, kneading them lightly. “Yea, I was angry. But the more I think about it, the more I can’t blame you--at least for what you said to me.” He took a deep drag and let the hand at his eyes drop. “You’d been told… that your dead friend had been hurt, by me, and reacted.”
“But…”
“No, be quiet. Let me talk, or I’m gonna lose track.”
Casey settled back, letting the bed’s edge go to rest his hands in his now-folded legs. “Okay.”
“You were right, about more things than one. The ‘breaking rules’ accusation? You don’t even know,” Zeke said. He flicked ash in the ashtray and stared at the glowing ember at the end of the cigarette. It seemed to entrance him as he went on speaking, his tone soft and low. “I did cater to a customer’s ‘sadist fetish’, one they weren’t willing to do themselves. They wanted to watch someone else do it. When he bought time with me and Martin that first time, he’d told Stephen that he wanted things rough. Stephen assumed that he was going to dole out the usual spanking or other some-such shit, but when we got upstairs, he told us what he really wanted.”
“For you to hurt Martin.”
“Mmhmm. We told him that something like that wasn’t a part of the ‘package’… then he brought out his wallet,” Zeke said. “Before I could say no to that shit, Martin gave me this look--he spent money like water, that one. Such a sweet kid, but he was shit with his finances. He’d get warned by Stephen, even the other boys, because of the nest-egg Stephen wants us all to have. So… the temptation was too much for him to turn down. I don’t know or remember how he convinced me. Fuck knew I didn’t need any big tips. I was doing just fine.”
Casey could read the volumes of confusion and sadness in Zeke’s expression alone. “And… that’s not something we’re supposed to do,” Casey said. Zeke nodded slowly.
“It’s never explicitly stated, but it’s obvious. It’s like… we all need to work together, LIVE together. Something like beating on each other, pretending to… force…” Zeke definitely faltered and needed to pause before going on. Another drag, deep breath… “That’s not how we treat each other, whether it’s pretend or not. Martin acted unaffected by it, happy with the big tips Felix gave. That guy came two or three times a week, always wanting the same thing. I mean, he covered for us. He’d always say that he’d been the one to bruise Martin, but if anyone looked close enough, they’d be able to tell. My hands were about twice the size of Felix’s. Put our hands up to compare with the bruises and that’s all you’d need to know.”
“I… remember.”
“What?”
“His bruises. There was a hand-shaped one that wrapped around his arm at one point,” Casey said with realization; looking to Zeke, he found him squirming uncomfortably. “God… has this Felix-guy been back since then?”
“No.”
“Good. The bastard.”
“No, Casey, he just--he wasn’t evil or terrible. He just had really strange kinks. Add a few drinks and the fact that he couldn’t actually get hard, even with the most extreme scenes playing out for him and you get a really, really messed up fetishist,” Zeke explained. “I’d almost feel bad for him. He’d be trying to jerk off, giving orders, and he just couldn’t get it up.”
“I don’t care. He used you and Marty, flashing dollar bills in your faces all to…”
“Dollar bills? Try fives, or tens. He was the richest, most eccentric one of the bunch,” Zeke said. He made a small, sad smirk. “And Marty would blow it all in one afternoon. I found out later that he’d waste money gambling; he wanted a quick-fix, to get out of this place. He never fucking belonged here. He didn’t find any sort of peace with it.”
“Then Danny found out,” Casey said.
“Yea. Blundered in, mistaking our room for his. I don’t wanna get into that; that’s between me and Danny,” Zeke replied. Casey nodded; he didn’t need to poke and prod on the issue. Zeke was letting go of enough, and judging by how he looked he was about to let the dam break a little more. Casey swore he saw tears in his eyes as he muttered, “Then he got sick.”
“And… oh god,” Casey said. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“If you were always around him… shit, what about everyone else?”
“We all lucked somehow. He wasn’t that high in demand, so… but who knows how long he was sick before the signs came…” Zeke’s brow furrowed. “I’d--been, my hands--fuck.”
“What?” Casey tentatively asked.
Zeke pursed his lips and closed his eyes. “Felix wanted me to choke him. I made sure to be careful, even if Felix kept telling me to go harder. Martin suddenly started coughing, hard, so I let go to turn him on his side and pat his back. I asked him if he was all right, and when he took his hand from his mouth to answer, there was blood.”
“Oh… no…” Casey shook his head. “Oh god, Zeke--”
“I thought I was killing him. I panicked and pulled the chain. All hell broke loose… I n-needed to have Felix on the other side of the room and get in front of the guards, tell them what was going on,” Zeke explained, his voice trembling as he spoke. “Everyone was shooed out and told to be tested. Needless to say, it was a slow week after that.”
Casey didn’t care if Zeke was still prickly with defenses. He couldn’t justify sitting across the room from him; he took the space between them and sat by Zeke. The young man didn’t flinch or move away when Casey put a hand on his arm and rubbed it lightly. “Don’t tell me you blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault,” Casey said.
“It took a long goddamned time for me to realize that. But I still fight with it. In my mind, I can still fucking see him, choking and… fuck,” Zeke snuffed his finished cigarette out, then lit another. Casey joined along. Zeke sat back against the wall and stared at Casey’s bed. “I wasn’t even scared for myself. They took me out of the room, got me tested--cleared, and yea, thank god. But… I dunno.”
“I remember the day I heard about it. A common friend at the art house we’d both go to,” Casey said. “I’d been wondering why I hadn’t seen him around for a few weeks. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I found out.”
“You know how I always go on about Stephen being a good guy?” Zeke said. At Casey’s nod, Zeke dropped his eyes to his cigarette as he flicked it in the tray. “There’s this saying, ‘Whores don’t get headstones’. Every story you’ve ever heard about prostitutes getting killed on the streets, none of them get burials. No family can be tracked down, and no one else cares. Most would rather see a dead whore strung up in the streets as a warning to others,” Zeke’s face relaxed and he almost smiled. “But if you go to Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, you’ll find Martin on Strawberry Path; something you can’t forget since--”
“He was obsessed with strawberries,” Casey finished for him, smiling fondly. Zeke chuckled.
“He’d even use strawberry-flavored lip balm. How queer is that?”
“Very.”
“So… yea,” Zeke said with a sigh. He leaned forward onto his knees. “Stephen didn’t have to do that, y’know? He could’ve had the coroner get rid of him somehow, have a school use his body for science, or do a cheap cremation. Whatever. But we all loved the kid, so Stephen made sure he got a final resting place. The funeral was small--just us--but beautiful.”
“I… wish I’d known,” Casey murmured. “I would’ve gone.”
Zeke looked to the boy, bit his lip and slipped an arm around Casey’s back. He pulled him in against his side and they sat together, a calm settling in. Casey made a small sniffle and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed what Cal said, or at least--”
“It’s gonna be hard not to deck him the next time he shows up,” Zeke blurted. “I didn’t think he was anything special before all this, but now?”
“Don’t, Zeke. It’s okay. He was just concerned. I’ll tell him the truth, so he doesn’t think--”
“No.” Zeke interrupted him again. Still holding Casey’s shoulders, he turned his face down to give him a hard look. “Let him think whatever shit he wants to think. If you tell him about what I told you, he’ll KNOW we talked; if he’s angry enough about that, he could cause trouble. Last thing we fuckin’ need.”
Casey sighed, feeling morose. “I… had promised that I wouldn’t say anything about it. So I guess--yea. I won’t bring it up.”
“He’d arranged your little ’meeting’, hadn’t he? No, never mind. He did,” Zeke said. He sniffed hard and held onto Casey’s opposite shoulder tighter. “Did he tell you that ’story’ as a kind of warning?”
“Well… yes,” Casey said. He blushed and bit his lower lip. “I told him that I thought you were handsome.”
“Oh yea?” Zeke said with a note of amusement. Casey smirked and looked down at the floor; his head lifted up then down with the large intake of breath Zeke took. “So the bastard’s jealous, you paying attention to another guy.”
“Maybe.”
“When he comes back… we’re acting like nothing happened. I’ll sit at the bar and smile in his face then give him the evil eye when his back is turned. Whatever. When he buys your time, just act like he’s the best fuck you’ve ever had, just like he wants to think.”
“Well… he kinda is,” Casey said, chuckling. When Zeke cocked an eyebrow his way, Casey scoffed. “Oh, come on. I DO like him, even if he was a nosy, misinformed idiot.”
Zeke rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You haven’t had me yet. You’d change your mind.”
“Oh? ‘Yet’?” Casey said. “Is that an offer?”
With a snort, Zeke held Casey closer and rubbed his arm. “We’ve broken enough rules to have us both in the kitchens until we’re old and gray,” he said. He noticed Casey’s exaggerated pout and snorted again. “Shut up.”
“’Didn’t say anything,” Casey replied. “Not a thing.”
“Mmhmm. Do me a favor, okay?” Zeke asked. “If he’s gonna tell you to ‘be careful’ around me, I’m gonna say the same. I know you like him, that he makes you feel special. That’s fine, whatever--but don’t fuck yourself up because he wants you to come around. He wants you so bad, he’ll pay for it.”
“It’s hard sometimes, though. Cos’… okay, I DO like him, like I said. It feels real to me.”
“Of course it does. He says sweet things to you. He might even mean it, but it comes down to you staying here, staying safe, well-fed--or taking a chance on a guy who hangs out in a whorehouse and fucks young boys.”
When Zeke put it that way… but Casey was special. Wasn’t he? He didn’t want to think about it. Things were resolved; they were talking, a lot, about every-little-thing. “I get it,” Casey finally replied.
“Good,” Zeke said. “So. I’m handsome, huh?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Yea. I knew that.”
“Oh, come on.” Casey poked Zeke’s side with his finger, over and over again.
“Ow, cut it out,” Zeke said, slapping Casey’s hand away.
“Whiny bitch,” Casey said. “Like that really hurt.”
“Hey, Casey…” Zeke said in a low voice. He dipped his head down to the boy’s ear and smiled against it as he whispered, “Don’t think I haven’t looked back.”
Casey’s thighs went warm. Still… “Rules.”
“Yup.”
With a blush now on his face and a smile crossing his lips, Casey closed his eyes and rested his head on Zeke’s chest. They said and did nothing more, choosing to sit in comfortable silence together. It had to be an hour later when they heard Danny yell, “I’m fucking HUNGRY, when is six gonna get here? Fuck’s sake!” out in the hall. As Henry yelled at him to lick the toilets clean if he was ‘that fucking hungry!’, both Casey and Zeke fell into giggle fits.
“Fuckin’ Danny…” Zeke said.
“I’m hungry too, though,” Casey replied. He finally moved away from Zeke, stood and stretched. “Another night off for me.”
“Yea, yea, good for you,” Zeke said. He then put his head back on the wall and blinked slowly. “Hey Casey?”
“Yea?”
“I wouldn’t have killed you.”
Casey rolled his eyes. “I know that, dummy.”
“I’m sorry. For throwing you around. I lied before,” Zeke said. “Part of the reason I roomed with Noah was just…”
“HEY!” Henry suddenly burst into the room, making the two of them leap a few feet in the air.
“What the FUCK, Hen??” Zeke bellowed.
“It’s Danny! He’s fucking licking a toilet!”
“What??” both Casey and Zeke said in unison.
“He’ll do anything for a dollar! Come on, Noah has a camera!”
~*~