Toby's Tale--Chapter 01

approximately 2050 words

"Toby's Tale" 

Chapter 1

         

         Hunger gnawed a hole in Toby's belly.

         He ignored the ache in his middle and kept his gaze focused on the johns in the cars cruising his corner.  Fusion john, the fat, bald guy driving a beat-up Ford, circled back, slowed and leered at him.  The creep's eyes burned with desperation and dark desire.  Too much desperation, and way too much darkness. Toby concentrated and used his secret superpowers to squelch the scumbag. Fusion john’s eyes responded, and their pupils narrowed to pinpoints. The creep looked away and his car sped around the corner.  Later, if nothing better showed up, Toby could always pull him and rekindle his interest. It would take an hour or so, though, for the squelch to wear off.

         The sun beat down on the asphalt and heated the brick exteriors of the boarded-up storefronts.  Fast food wrappers, circulars, and other trash congealed in dry husks next to the building where Toby leaned.  Ruby and Ginger loitered a dozen feet away, their boobs bulging underneath their halter tops. They both wore fishnet stockings that climbed from their spiked heels and disappeared into their fluorescent micro-mini-skirts.  Ginger gave him a coy smile and Toby responded with a silent nod. Ginger was good at this, so good that her johns usually didn’t mind when they inevitably learned her secret, that she wasn’t exactly female.

         Sweat drizzled down his forehead and burned his eyes.  He wiped his face with his t-shirt and then ran his fingers through his hair.  Once upon a time, it had felt silky and smooth, not tangled and stiff with filth like today.  Maybe he'd get lucky and get a shower along with some cash for food. Probably not, though. He could always crash at Ginger’s place, but that would be awkward since she had the hots for him. 

         Of course, he could squelch her, but he’d never do that.  She’d always been there for him, from his first days on the street back when he was fourteen.  He’d been such a noob back then that he’d been shocked when he learned her secret. Like her, though, he knew better than to reveal his secret to anyone, even his friend Ginger.

         A bright blue BMW sports car drove by.  This was its third trip around the circuit.  The driver looked way more promising than the one in the beat-up Ford.  He was not much older than Toby’s eighteen years, and fit.  Sure, his gaze broadcast that lean and hungry look that Toby knew so well, but not with the menace that had darkened Fusion john.  Toby stretched, made eye contact, and pulled.  The Beamer john slowed his car, but then ice filled the hole in Toby's gut.  It was almost like this john pulled back.

         He shuddered. That was crazy. So far as he knew, no one else had his secret superpowers.  Squelch and pull. He'd called them that ever since he first discovered them, back when he was new to the street.  He couldn't have survived without them.

         It didn’t matter, though. Beamer john was no different from any other john.  They all just lusted for one thing.  Lucky for Toby, he had that one thing in abundance.

         His pull seemed to be working, so it looked like he wouldn't be hungry much longer.  He pulled the driver again, this time harder.

         The BMW slowed and the guy returned his stare.  Toby kept pulling.  He answered the man's come-on by slipping off his t-shirt, exposing his lithe, tanned torso.  The Beamer stopped next to where Toby stood.  The passenger-side window slid down in silent invitation.  All the while the driver never broke his glassy-eyed gaze.

         Pay dirt.

         Toby sauntered up to the vehicle, maintaining an air of insouciance.  That was his new word for the day. Insouciance. He'd spent this morning, like every morning except Sundays, visiting the downtown public library, where there were clean restrooms and free computers. The library was his anchor to another world, a fantasy world with homes, and schools, and parents who didn't beat you.  Today, he'd used one of the computers to pull up Word of the Day, read an article in Scientific American about black holes, and finished by devouring the next chapter of Catcher in the Rye.  That Holden Caulfield, he was one whiny asshole.  He didn't know he had it made. He never had to sell his body for his next meal.  Toby liked Huckleberry Finn or Jason Bourne way better. They took charge of their lives.

         When he leaned against Beamer john’s car door, the hot metal seared his bare forearms.  He kept his face impassive and voice indifferent. "Hey, mister."

         "Hello, son.  You look hot out there on the street."

         Hot.  Yeah, Toby knew exactly how he looked to weasels like Beamer john.  Especially with no shirt.  He kept his voice innocent and his eyes wide. "It's a scorcher, that's for sure."

         Beamer john’s voice was smooth as silk and as suggestive as Ginger’s halter top. "It's nice and cool in here.  You want to ride around with me for a while?”

         Ride around.  Right.  Like that was all he wanted. Toby kept up the innocent act. "Gee whiz, mister, that'd be awesome."  He opened the door and clambered into the cramped space.  The cool leather seat stuck to his bare flesh.  "I love your car."

         "Thanks, bro.  My name's John."  He stuck out his hand.

         John.  Sure, that was his name, all right. What an asshole. Toby kept his face eager and wide-eyed while he shook with a firm grip. 

         When they touched, that coldness again gripped his gut.  An electric tingle skittered up his arm and nibbled inside his head.  What the hell?  He jerked his hand free, and the sensations vanished.  "My friends call me Bobby."  No way this scumbag was going to know his real name.

         Beamer john smiled, like he knew a secret.  "Nice to meet you, Bobby."  The man turned his attention to driving and pulled away from the curb.

         What was with this guy?  He was good looking, in a craggy kind of way, with his razor-sharp, hipster haircut. Perfectly trimmed stubble darkened his dimpled cheeks. He wore a loose black t-shirt and black denim jeans with a neat, pressed crease. Uptight, then.  He must be fucking rich to drive a car like this.  Toby frowned and chewed the inside of his cheek. It didn't fit.  This dude shouldn't need to pick up someone like Toby.  He remembered that ice in his gut.  Maybe it was a mistake to get in this car, despite his superpowers.

         Toby leaned back and waited for Beaner john to make the first move. Driving this clown-shoe sports car meant he almost certainly wasn't a cop.  Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.  Getting beat up would be bad, but being arrested would be even worse.  His stomach growled, and he winced.  Maybe Beamer john wouldn't notice.

         "When was the last time you ate, Bobby?"

         No such luck.  "This morning," he lied.

         "There's a fried chicken joint up here.  Would you like some?"

         Saliva flooded Toby's mouth and his stomach ached.  He shrugged and kept his voice casual.  "Whatever."

         Beamer john pulled into the drive-through and ordered a three-piece dinner with fried okra, corn on the cob, and a chocolate milkshake.  When he paid, he exposed a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills in his wallet.

         Toby leaned back and relaxed.  Whatever risk this guy presented, the potential payoff was going to be worth it.

         Beamer john handed him the sack with the food and the milkshake.  "Go ahead and eat if you want.  Try not to spill too much in the car."  He flashed a quick smile in Toby's direction, just like he really liked him or something.  It was just Toby’s pull working on the creep.

         "Thanks.  I'll be careful."

         God, he'd forgotten how fucking good fried chicken was. He was so hungry, his fucking jaws ached before he took the first bite. Some crumbs dribbled onto his lap and he scooped them into his mouth, licking his fingers. Screw the car: he wanted to savor every last morsel.  He sucked down the milkshake too fast and got a freeze-headache.  Screw that, too.  It was worth it. The last time he had a milkshake, his benefactor had beat him up. It was worth it then, and it'd be worth it now if that was going to be Beamer john’s price.  Even the biscuits tasted like ambrosia.  The only thing he didn't touch was the okra.

         Beamer john drove on in silence and let him eat. When slurping sounds indicated the milkshake was gone, he must have decided it was okay to talk again.  "Don't you like okra?"

         Toby thought about the scars on his back from where his father had beaten him for not eating that slimy, bitter shit when he was nine.  "I'm allergic."

         "Oh.  Sorry.  You should have said, and we could have gotten something different."

         "It's okay."  Toby licked his fingers.  "Thank you."

         "You're welcome, Bobby.  It was my pleasure."

         His pleasure.  Right.  Toby knew what pleased men like Beamer john, and it sure as shit wasn't fried chicken.  They were after an entirely kind of chicken. They were after Toby. 

         Beamer john drove in silence. He left the street where he’d picked up Toby, the one with the sleazy motels and boarded up shops, and headed down Riverside.  A plush, manicured park bordered the right side of the avenue, dropping to where the Arkansas River gleamed in the sunlight.  Way too public a place for the kind of thing johns wanted.

         Toby tensed and asked, "Where you takin' me?"

         "Where would you like to go, Bobby?"

         Now that he’d eaten, all Toby wanted was for it to be over. "We could stop in a downtown alley.  That'd be private.  Or there's Chandler Park. It's got lots of quiet places to hang out."  That was as overt as Toby was willing to get.  Get it over with.  Pay off Beamer john with sex and be done with him forever.

         "Is that what you want, Bobby?  I could take you to Youth Services."

         What the fuck kind of question was that? No real john would ask that kind of whack-a-doodle question.  Toby’d been to that so-called do-gooder place a couple of times.  They were way more interested in snooping into his past than in actually helping him.  Now that he was fed, what Toby really wanted was to go back to the library.  Even going back his corner and hooking up with a john who wasn't from the Twilight Zone would be better than this.  "I want to go back to where you picked me up."

         "All right."

         Minutes later, they stopped in the exact spot where Toby had first gotten in the BMW.  Beamer john gave him an appraising look.  "Now what?"

         "Look, mister, thanks for the chicken and everything, but I need to go."  Toby fidgeted. It was too soon after pulling him for a squelch to work.  His instincts told him to leave now, but something held him back.

         "You can leave if you want, Toby.  Or…”  He didn’t finish, like he expected Toby to read his mind or something.

         "Or what?"  Uneasiness squirmed like a toad in Toby’s head.  He’d missed something.  Something important.  What was it?  Beamer john had called him Toby. "How the fuck do you know my name, asshole?"

         #I think you know how, Toby.#

         "I don't know shit--" Toby stopped.  Beamer john hadn't spoken, at least not out loud.  Toby heard him, all right, but not with his ears.  "What the fuck?  How did you do that?"

         Beamer john chewed his lower lip, then spoke, using his mouth this time.  "I've been sensing you for a while, Toby. You and I are alike--more than you know."

         "I'm nothing like you, scumbag."  Toby fumbled with the door.

         "Leave if you wish, bro."  John touched his hand.  #But I'll be listening, I promise.  I'll be here for you if you need me.#

         Toby snatched his hand back and shoved his way out of the car.  He stumbled and fell to the sidewalk, skinning his palms.  Cursing, he rolled to his feet, and ran away as fast as he could.