Pounding the basketball onto the concrete of his father Daniel's driveway, Josh allowed his best friend Brent to steal the ball from him.
Before Brent had a chance to hoist the ball up into the air, Josh stole it back. He did a razzle-dazzle dance around his scrambling friend.
Pushing the ball to go flying against the garage door, Josh body-slammed Brent sending himself and his friend careening into the grass.
"Touchdown down!" Josh yelled, playfully thumping his friend on the chest.
"We were playing basketball you chump," Brent laughed, wrestling around in the grass with Josh.
Propping himself on his elbow, Brent saw Josh's dad, Damion, staring at them from the picture window. A sad smile was on Damion's face. Lately it seemed every time Brent saw Damion the sparkle Damion had was extinguished. Brent sometimes wondered if Damion was dying of some sort of cancer eating away at him. Josh had confided to him his dad was struggling with deep issues systematic from his dad being in a state of deep emotional depression.
I can't imagine why Damion left Daniel for Les, Brent thought to himself, Ever since Damion moved out of his and Daniel's house he seems more like a patient ghost haunting places. I can tell he misses Daniel. I guess Daniel won't take him back. At least he and Damion are still friends for Josh's sake. Maybe that makes things worse for Damion.
Brent waved his hand at Damion. Damion went from the window.
"Didn't I tell you we're playing Josh-ball instead?' Josh teased, "It's akin to the game of hard ball. An interesting hybrid of the game of basketball mated with football. Josh-Ball combines everything which makes the two games great. By the way, I won."
Josh pinned his best friend down. He sang " I am the champion of the world."
"When in the hell did you come up with Josh-ball?" Brent laughed, his gray eyes sparkling at Josh.
"Just now," Josh teased, "I made the rules up as I was playing. And you broke a few. You're lucky I didn't call for a penalty."
"I thought Pete made up all the rules in your game playing," Brent teased him, referring to Josh's steady boyfriend.
Rolling over Brent, Josh sat next to his friend. Josh retorted, "We make up the rules together when we game play. And we always play nice."
"Who usually wins in your battle of the wills?" Brent asked, rolling closer, laying his head on Josh's lap.
"Would you believe me if I told you our battles of the wills always end up in a draw?"
"Nope." Brent laughed, "That boy has you on a string. And he likes to jerk it around."
Josh fell to being quiet for a while, letting himself soak in the early evening air of early fall New Orleans' night.
Josh had on the proper uniform of Gap clothing; A pair of loose jeans, tight Tee-shirt, and a loose, open-buttoned shirt. Gold hoops lined his left ear. His hair was sunshine blond, standing up in little spikes off of his handsome face. He had blue eyes which could shatter a heart. His light eye lashes made his eyes seem huge. He had a kind of earnest. hopeful look to his face even when he was smirking. He always hoped whoever he was with liked him or at least thought he was a nice enough guy. He had a mouth on him which could speak honey or trash depending on his mood. Looking sexy in a freshly showered, masculine way was important to him. Calvin Kline was not going to be banging on Josh's door anytime soon, begging Josh to be part of his stable of pretty, androgynous, male models starring in one of his unisex perfume and jeans print advertisements and televisions commercials. After Josh met Pete being a total boy type way of looking decent was vital, but it wasn't as important to him as being decent on the inside. Not that he was always good at being good. After all, Josh was only a growing boy of nineteen.
Josh loved the homey feel of his neighborhood. Kids riding their bikes, manicured lawns with well tended flowers. The way every Christmas the houses would have lights draped on the eaves of their roofs. The tropical feel of his neighborhood wasn't at all exotic to him like it was to the tourists from the East or Midwest. It was home where neighbors waved as they drove by even if they didn't know who they were waving to. The slick lights coming from the honky-tonks of Bourbon Street, the boutiques of New Orleans occupied by shopping sexxy deth chicks, boys, and out-of-towners filled with everything from adult sex toys skull ashtrays, and gothic designer clothing seemed like another world.
Times like this Josh honestly could believe in the eternal aspect of the community he lived in. Like his neighborhood was a setting in a movie. A movie which could be replayed over and over again. Nothing would change. And the feelings he felt while viewing his neighbors' yards those feelings would stay the same. Feelings of comfort and satisfaction. A subtle happiness to be a part of such a at least outwardly secure world.
His wandering hand broke the spell of his beliefs in security. He carefully touched the shaved patch of hair on Brent's scalp. He fingered a puckered up scar.
Ow, don't touch my stitches," Brent cried, slapping Josh's hand, "My brains might fall out."
"When did you ever have brains? Does it hurt baby boy?' Josh teased, hiding his worry. He rolled on top of Brent, squeezing Brent's body.
"Ow, stop beating me up. You're crushing my balls. You jerk," Brent teased.
Every night I go out and kill a mortal, Josh thought to himself, And here I am thanking God your alive. How's that for being a puss of a vampire? Now wonder many night walkers think day walkers are a disgrace to the vampire species.
Josh hunger for blood lay dormant in his supple, athletic body. He had already feasted on an illegal immigrant. It really didn't matter to him what the man's story was, or the hardships the man had to go through to get to New Orleans. All Josh knew was the man drew an unlucky hand in their chance meeting. Brent, his mortal friend who had no idea of his nature, was safe from him.
"I can't believe you were picked to go to Chicago to be on "Real World," My best friend on Television," Brent said a little jealousy creeping into his voice, "Why did they pick a loser like you and not a nice guy like me?"
"I suspect it was a matter of screwed up judgment on their part," Josh said teasing Brent's nose with a blade of grass, making Brent sneeze.
"Seriously, I have no idea why they picked me. The only reason I filled out a form was because you did. All the answers I gave were wacked out, For religion I wrote I was a Catholic devil worshipper. I wrote my favorite drink was a virgin's blood mixed with Jack Daniel's stirred not shaken--on the rocks."
"And here I was doing my best to impress the panel with my intellect answers," Brent griped "I was doing my best to be Mr. Sincere."
"They must of thought you were giving false answers, Who ever heard of an intelligent blond much less a sincere one."
Josh playfully touched Brent's head only to have his hand smacked.
"I love you. You big, dumb stud, Josh thought affectionately of his friend. You're cute but not that cute. Not like how Pete's cute.
Even if their wasn't a Pete in his life, Josh knew he still wouldn't have fallen for Brent his friend he went to a private Catholic high school with, and who he played sports with. Through very few people could resist falling in love with Brent. Brent's honey blond hair was spiked up except for the shaved part. Brent had the exquisite, good manners of a well taken cared of upper-class Southern boy whose family doted upon him. He had disturbingly full lips. The shirt he had on was an often laundered, collectable, vintage Alice Cooper Tee-shirt A Tee-shirt which happened to belonged to Josh. A pair of jeans, a feisty dog collar, along with a black leather jacket which was also borrowed like the Tee-shirt was borrowed from Josh completed Brent's favorite way to look tasty.
"Josh, I'm going to miss you. I'll pine for you every night," Brent said in his sour mash, smooth southern voice, "Unless."
"Unless what?" Josh said.
"Let me keep your leather jacket while you're gone."
"Forget it. It gets cold in Chicago."
"Your jacket looks a thousand times better on me than it does on you. Think of it as doing your jacket a favor."
"Some favor I would be doing my jacket. There's a cigarette hole burned in the back of it. Brent, I told you to take care of it."
This bitchy guy burned a hole in it when I told him I didn't want to dance with him. I think he keyed my mom's car too."
"Brent you have to be more careful about the kind of parties you go to."
"How else does one meet suitors out here in New Orleans? It's a party town. Everyone is either at a party, going to a party, or leaving a party," Brent sighed, "I won't do ugly, crass, or married guys."
"Unless your drink off your ass. Then anyone is fuckable."
"Liquor does take the sharp edges off of a suitor's looks and personality," Brent laughed, "I'm sober, staying sober Josh. I can't believe that married jerk off of a fag left me alone in my car after I hit a tree. I still dream about my head crashing against the windshield."
At least he called 911 before he abandoned you."
"I didn't even know is real name. But I knew him well enough to talk him into leaving with me so I could slurp on a dick. My God, I still don't believe it. I barely remember what he looked like. Josh I could have killed him I could have killed myself, or some innocent person walking on the sidewalk. I could have rammed my car into another person's car with kids in it. I'm turning my life around. No more garbage."
"You're still going to AA meetings?"
"Yes, not missing one. Thanks Josh for going to the first four meetings with me at Saint John's Episodical church. I'm glad its open to gays and lesbians only. It helped me tremendously being about to talk openly about going to bars and taking that first drink to make myself feel more available and to get over my shyness over talking to people. I don't know how to stop with the first drink. I mean I knew when I opened my mouth at the meeting no one was going to be judgmental, or call me a frigging loser faggot in their minds while I was talking about my drinking..."
TBC