Somewhere Else

Chapter 20: Clubbing

Brecker was a man of fashion. He prided himself on his wardrobe mostly. There were no two nights in the year that he would wear the same outfit to the club, not even if he went twice in one day. Most of his color schemes matched whichever club he was going to. If he was going to mingle with men and women, he could be just as flamboyant as he wanted to be. For some reason, the girls got a kick out of seeing him wear purples and pinks when no other man could. Some didn’t realize his sexual orientation. That was more than fine by him. When he went to strictly gay clubs, he dressed in neutral tones. He was afraid of giving away if he was top or bottom and absolutely hated anything being assumed of him.

Knowing that his friends were going to be there as they always were, he dug out the best of the best. Now, just because he wouldn’t wear the same outfit twice didn’t mean he couldn’t share a few of the components. Tonight he’d wear his leather pants, once again, but the shirt would be something no one had ever seen before. He’d wear something silky or something flashy to be sure. If he couldn’t get their attention by sight, he wanted them to rub against him and think, ‘Hey, I need me more of that’.

Accessories were always good for him as well, so he topped it all off with orange glasses, a spiked collar, and more wrist bangles than anyone else out. They were all different colors but hardly carried the meaning of the rainbow. He enjoyed having a colorful life and could never do with just monochromatic schemes. The shoes that he wore said something about him as well. If they weren’t designer, they were outrageous. He had red patent leather shoes, flame shoes, pinstripe shoes, goth boots that elevated him quite a few inches, playboy bunny shoes, he liked shoes. Tonight he figured leather shoes ought to fit with leather pants. Keep with the textures a bit and all of that.

A fedora topped his head, covered the purple hair that he had, and he pulled his can from the closet. He wasn’t sure why he liked it so much, knowing full well that some used them because they had to, but he walked well with it and it added a touch of sophistication, he thought. Though it might have been considered a weapon in the sense that he used it, often tapping the backs of legs and such, no one was ever offended, not to date anyhow.

Oskar would be going out with him. The man was as straight as they came but he often drove him around and there was no point in going and not enjoying himself. He learned that years ago when Brecker first tricked him into going to a gay club. Most of the boys knew not to hit on him, thought he came along solely for business, but the ambiance of the club was rather nice. Besides, if Oskar was on his best behavior and if Brecker didn’t find anyone to take home with him, they’d usually go to a straight club after so that they’d both have their fun in one night. While Brecker stuck strictly to boys, he could mingle and flirt like a fiend.

As soon as he walked into the club he was bombarded by those who knew him best. They went on about how he’d been gone so long, weeks upon weeks, and how much they missed him. They asked if he wouldn’t dance for them and of course he agreed. The cane was left with Oskar and it was Elijah that he hit the floor with. The two of them danced so well together that most enjoyed watching. Elijah stood at a graceful six foot two inches and Brecker was not quite as tall. In fact, he could only dream of breaking six feet tall. Despite what their traditional roles ought to be, using height for stereotypes of course, Brecker was the one that led the dance.

They swayed and moved and slunk all around. They’d grind up against one another, flirt, and tease. The music guided them a bit but their hearts and, admittedly their crotches, led them next. Elijah was quite the sight to see in the first place with such long dark hair and crystalline eyes. Their hands roamed shamelessly over the body of the other. Finally, when the song ended, they kissed. A very erotic kiss no less, full of lust and want that neither would ever act upon because as soon as they parted the passion vanished.

While he’d been dancing, the one he was actually looking for showed up. Lucky was a beautiful boy. Not because he was good looking or androgynous or anything like that, but because he had embraced the gift given to him and because he had stepped up to the plate when he was needed most. The greeting that he got from Lucky was feeling his large, meaty hand on the back of his head and his forehead against his own, despite the fact that he’d worked up a sweat minutes ago and his hat hadn’t done much to prevent the dampness from being shared.

The boy was incapable of moving from existence to existence but he understood and comprehended better than most men could. Freak had done a fine job of explaining everything to him and he couldn’t be more pleased. In this world it was Malachai’s job to protect Brecker. Should harm ever come his way, he was to stop it because he could not die. That wasn’t to say his immortality wouldn’t be lifted from him when the job was done, but for now he was like a god walking the Earth and for that Brecker was grateful.

Of course, with such otherworldly things going on around them, they hardly paid any attention to the normal trouble one could find. Such as a bathroom which seemed to be the breeding grounds for violence. Brecker had a few too many drinks and though he knew if he started taking leaks now he’d never be able to stop, he was quite literally afraid of his bladder exploding in his body and having to explain to some doctor who just didn’t understand the pleasure of alcohol.

While he stood at the urinal, his cane in one hand and his private bit in the other, he heard a rather meager voice pipe up from behind him.

“Are you really Charlie Brecker?”

“You bet your sweet ass I am.”

An odd time to be approached, he thought, while taking a piss. Good thing he was practically finished anyhow. One, two, two and a half shakes and he put himself away. A quick flush and he spun around to see who was speaking to him. That meager voice hardly belonged to a matching face. Before he could even lift a hand in defense he took a good solid punch to the face. Another came right in at his stomach and only then did he react.

The cane that he held swung around to his arm, to the back of his neck, but then he felt a knee to the groin and he sucked air. Slowly he dropped to the ground and he was kicked once, twice, more times than he cared to remember. His hat had fallen off and was left on the ground nearby. The stranger grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the ground. It was then that the darkness seemed to seep into his world of color and his lids reluctantly closed.

Several hours could have passed as well as just a few seconds. When he came to, he let out a low groan of displeasure. Amazingly enough, no one else had come into the bathroom for any reason. If they had, seeing him passed out on the ground must be nothing new because he woke alone. Maybe it’d really only been a few seconds. Pushing himself up from the cold tile, he noted firstly his cane and his hat and picked them from the ground, trying to situate himself the best he could.

Trying to stand was something comical to him. Every part of his body ached, including the sides of his thighs. Who kicked in the thigh? It wasn’t until he got a glimpse of himself in the mirror that he realized his pants had taken a funny shape to them and that his face looked like a train wreck. Nice, real nice. His wallet was missing. After getting the shit beat out of him, that was obviously the first thing he thought of.

Explaining what had happened would be some great fun. Usually he was able to punch back, get a few licks in, not be taken down so easily. He’d blame it on the alcohol of course. As he made his way back out, pushing through guys with more force than was necessary, he found Oskar. Suddenly the night was not as much fun as before and he was just ready to go home.

Lucky looked absolutely horrified that anything had happened to Brecker. After the initial shock, he was just angry with himself for not having been there to protect him. It was his job after all, to ensure the safety of this man. Right now he couldn’t even say for sure why it was so important but he knew that it was.

“You’re going down to the station to report this.”

Elijah had gone to tell the owner what had happened. There were a few cameras placed all over so that they could capture stuff like this on video. Of course none were in the bathroom though as that invaded privacy. Everyone else left around him was trying to comfort him when all he wanted was to be left alone.

He thanked them for their concern and then let himself out of the club, Oskar hot on his heels.

“It could be a hate crime Brecker. You need to go and report this.”

“It’s just a fucking wallet Oskar. No one even cares about a fucking wallet, no one but you. Do you realize how many wallets are stolen a year? Do you realize no one ever really gets them back?”

“What if it’s something more than just your wallet? Something bigger than just a hate crime? Jesus Christ Brecker, they’ll have your address and everything by having your wallet.”

“Fine. Fine, what do you want me to do?”

“Go to the station and report a missing wallet if nothing else.”

The two of them rode in silence as Oskar took him to the station, which was the last place he wanted to be. There was a vague sense of familiarity as he rode along but he figured it was only because he’d been arrested a good time or two. Protests could sometimes get out of hand when homophobes got up in his face and talked about how sodomy was a sin.

The feeling was stronger than that though. Pulling up to the station, he demanded that Oskar stay outside while he went in to do his thing. The lights were dimmed beyond what he thought they would be and he was in no mood to answer any questions about his face. He didn’t want to be here in the first place. Making his way across the floor, the sound of his cane echoing, he noted there was only one guy at the desk.

Stepping up and speaking quietly, despite the laughter he heard coming from the back, he announced why he was there. “I need to fill out a report for a missing wallet.”

His entire body felt cool, as though he was still drying off from coming out of a shower and the air against him was taunting him. His stomach clenched up tight and he felt a bit lightheaded. Sure he’d had a few drinks but that was no reason to feel the way that he did. The guy behind the desk hardly acknowledged him at all, but instead slid a paper across the counter for him to fill out.

“Every line.”

Brecker started putting in his information, casually glancing at what the man was doing. He went between paper and keyboard and he soon lost his interest. After all, he just wanted to be home, resting through his hangover and letting his face heal. When the man finally lifted his head to see if he was doing what he’d been instructed to do, he noticed two things.

First, he looked like he’d lived at the station for the past few weeks. Haggard and exhausted, he was hardly the spitting image of any police officer who was going to uphold any sort of law. Second, he recognized him. He drew in a deep breath when their eyes met. Despite how many people he came across in how many lives, it was those eyes he’d never forget. Those pale blue eyes that could either show someone all the warmth in the world or turn icy cold and freeze someone out. This was Kray, the cop he tried to kill a few lives back; this was his sixth.