Disclaimer: This story contains drug culture, male/male and female/female sexual references. Don't like it, look at something else. Or play some tennis. Buy a goldfish. Indulge in some heavy alcoholic drinking. The world is your oyster.
I in no way infer the sexuality of the members of the band Jebediah. They do a pretty good job of it themselves. Fan mail to webtrash@unpunk.com
-4-
He was there as I got off the train. Dark skinned, mid thirties, dirty flannel shirt. He was my angel and my demon, the source of both my pain and my bliss. We walked down behind the toilet block and I slipped him the fifty.
"You don't look great, little dude."
"Yeah, I got sold a bad hit."
"That's your problem. Buy from me and that shit won't happen."
I nodded and accepted the tiny baggie, slipping it into my sneaker and stepping quickly out of the darkness and towards the other train, crawling noisily down the platform.
I was getting shaky as I got home. I could feel the withdrawls creeping up through me, like a caged animal longing for escape or relief. Making a beeline for my room, I hunted through my sock drawer for a clean needle. Finding one, I grabbed my spoon, a 2mL prep solution and the lighter off the shelf.
"I don't ever see you touch that shit ever again."
The pain, oh god the pain. I'm so sorry Martin. Kevin, I'm failing you. I'm poisoning myself.
The liquid bubbled evenly in the teaspoon. I ripped at the packaging of the fit.
U-100. FOR INSULIN ONLY. DELTA WEST MEDICAL.
I pulled the green cap off the tiny metal needle, drew the liquid into the plastic cylinder, evacuated the air.
"Smack is for losers and wankers who don't know better."
Martin's eyes, his voice, even in the haze of pain. I cried out, shook the sweat out of my eyes and face, and slipped the needle deep into my inner thigh. My thumb now rested gently on the magical button which would end my torture. 'Five more seconds, Trent. Five more seconds.'
"You're worth more than that."
I hoarsely groaned, then cried out again. I yanked the needle from my leg and threw the fit across the room. It bounced off the stereo and landed on the chair. I was sobbing, my body racked with cold fire. I reached for the remote and turned on the CD player, cranking up the music which dominated my life. I begged Kevin to help me through this. I had to be rid of this disease. I had to.
Kevin sung to me, across the room. I slumped and sang along, mumbling the words, shaking like a leaf. A leaf feverish with heroin withdrawl, that is.
"Been thinkin' , of buildin' /a ship to the skies;
The plans made, in fourth grade should get me that far.."
I crawled over to my bed again, reaching under it for the pills.
MORPHOSE COMPLEX, 20MG. SUPPLY WITHOUT PRESCRIPTION ILLEGAL.
'So fuckin' sue me' I thought, chewing the tablets raw, their bitter taste making me wince and dry-wretch. Vanessa's steady, warm bass pounded through me, like warm hands rubbing my ears, massaging my mind.
"There's a simple explanation, for the trouble that we're in
The shed light on all night
The work noise outside....."
I lay back, reaching for the syringe. I tucked it back into my sock drawer, and with some effort, pulled a quilt down over me.
"The belief, in Relief,
Found somewhere to hide..."
My eyelids grew heavy, a tiny smile crossed my face. Kevin, you sing to me. If only you knew how much I loved you.
"... my star machine takes flight..."
The light in the room took on a waxy finish. I felt my eyes closed and I lay back. Me and you, Kevin, Me and you.
When I woke up, fourteen hours had past and it was raining.
My joints ached. Everything ached. I unsteadily got to my feet and looked out the window. Mum had been and gone. The stereo was off and there were cold waffles and juice on a tray on my windowsill.
Didn't want to wake you. Gone to the shops.
See you at lunchtime. Mum.
Hang on. Something wasn't right. Something about the room had changed. I took a step forward, and tripped on something. Grabbing the closet door for support, I steadied myself with some effort and looked down to see what I had fallen over.
The phone book. Phone book? I hadn't been using that last night. Then again, there's alot about last night that was hazy. I sat down cross legged on the floor and looked at the open book.
It was open to SNOW.
'Shit on me.' I thought, tracing my finger down the entries.
SNOW A 34 MATHESON APPLECROSS 94827465
SNOW A 10 VERDON MIDLAND 92740029
SNOW B BICKLEY ST KENSINGTON 94746637
'Come on man, where are you.' I thought angrily.
Attadale. Balcatta. Palmyra. Saint James. Rockingham. Northbridge. Balga.
My finger stopped at the last entry.
SNOW V&DS 244 JAYWOOD DVE SCRBRH 92051831
I twirled a lock of hair around my finger, staring at the bold type under my finger. Getting up from my place on the rug I grabbed the tray and headed out to the living room. I absentmindedly chewed on a waffle as I plonked myself down on the vinyl three-seater, pausing to trail my fingers down the window. Raindrops crawled down the pane like tears. The aching in my joints was terrible. I flipped the TV on and veged for a while.
TV Hits. Burt Newton. World News en francais. Rocko's Modern World. TV Hits. Burt Newton. World News en francais. Rocko's Modern World. I channel surfed in a daze of pain and boredom, before reaching down for the phone on the occasional table.
Regarding the keypad I dialed the number.
One ring, two. Three. Four. Five rings.
I was about to hang up.
"Verna Snow, hello?"
"Mrs Snow, it's Trent Reid. Is Martin there please?"
"You're in luck. He got home from football practice five minutes ago. Hold on."
I couldn't imagine the prim, businesslike voice of Mrs Snow in any way related to the warm, friendly guy she spawned.
A long silence followed, which was broken by a loud click and Snowy's voice.
"Trent! How are you?"
"I feel like shit. Can you come over?"
"Now?"
"Yeah, or soon."
"I was actually planning on ---- be there in twenty."
Click. Busy tone.
I ambled over to the door, unbolted it, then padded back to the sofa. I looked up at the calender. One week, four days, fourteen hours.
The sun made a defiant stand against the rain, wide rays shining through the windows, my damp body succumbing to it's radiant warmth. I lay there for what felt like hours, dozing.
There was a sharp rap on the door.
"'Sopen!" I called out. I pulled the sweater down over my bruised arms and waited for the creak as the door swung open. The heavy footsteps I heard could have only been made by one guy. He regarded me from the corner of the sofa.
"Feel better?"
"Kinda. Um, yaknow, withdrawls."
"Whoa. What's it like?"
"Like being beaten with an iron bar until you can't move, over and over."
Snowy sat down beside me on the couch, wiping the sweat from my face. I turned on the radio and In Orbit by jebediah was on RTR-FM.
"You dont wanna know
the truth will only hurt you..."
He leaned forward and touched my face again, brushing my long hair back.
"And I don't wanna go
back down that road I hate it..."
I turned my head and kissed his hand. He softly gasped in suprised. I sucked one of his fingers into my mouth, my eyes burning into his. He moaned and pulled his hand clear of my face bending forward and licking my lips. I shifted to unbunch the jeans around my swlling crotch and kissed him hard and deep. He ground into me, holding my shoulders in his protective grip, his shirt riding up. I jumped at the feel of his skin. His body let off a great amount of heat, and I pushed myself against him, losing myself in his touch, his smell, him. I was betraying my love, this was forbidden territory to me, but reasoning took over. 'Kevin Mitchell is straight. Martin Snow is not. You can have the best of both worlds. Don't fuck your life up over this Trent. Hold it together."
Trent ripped his shirt from his body and rolled me onto him as the last chords of In Orbit died. My hand rubbed his chest idly, toying with his dark nipples.
"And that was Jebediah's In Orbit, the newest single released by the up and coming band based rght here in Perth, fronted by Kevin Mitchell. I believe he still lives in Willetton. Great guy. You're listening to RTR-FM's Local Saturday."
Snowy lifted his head.
"THAT Kevin? Kevin Mitchell?"
My head drooped.
"Yeah, that Kevin."
"That is so cool man. Jebediah rocks. No wonder you're all about him."
He sat up , his face to mine, and whispered in my ear, a rough purr which sent bolts of electricity through me.
"You think about him when you kiss me don't you. You think about his voice, his hair, the cute thing he does in solo's."
I groaned and pulled Trent closer to me. I suddenly wasn't alone.
"He's not the only one insufferable when he's in heat, you know."
I pulled away to look deeply into the dark blue eyes of Martin Colin Snow, my hands gripping his tightly.
"S'my animal too, yaknow."
I kissed him again, my hands breaking free of his and running down his belly to his pants, slipping beneath the waistband, down to where boys fear to tread. Snowy let out his breath in a short, sharp "whoosh" and closed his eyes, arching his back as I groped at his very manhood. He was amazingly thick, even through his briefs. His entire body, even his cock, was so amazingly solid, so bronzed. He was my own personal statue of David. I guess at this point I really started warming to this guy.
Ryan walked into the room and blinked.
... to be continued...