Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2001 15:29:08 -0700 From: Aaron . Subject: "Specter" Ch. 4 I'd thank David for putting up with me, but he'll probably just delete it like usual so instead I'll just say "THANK YOU ALL!" lol...naw David, you know I love ya. lol. :) Thanks to my beautifull boyfriend Rorik. I love you baby! HELP ME! I need help with ideas for this story mondo bad. If you have ANY ideas, whatsoever, I wanna hear 'em. Please? Okay. Enjoy kiddies! Disclaimer: If you wish to return HOME then simply click your heals together my dear, and repeat after me: "There's no place like home...unless it's AJ McLean's home." ;) None of this crap is real, obviously, I'm just insane. "Specter" Aaron DeLorean *Chapter Three* ______________________________ I wish I knew what you're really like A touch so shy and fine But the way you move with that guitar Just gives me other signs --Heart ______________________________ I woke up the next morning in bed without any recollection of putting myself there. Nick was nowhere to be seen. I looked at the answering machine only to see the number "7" blinking prominently back at me. Fax's had come zooming out while I slept. I counted twelve. I groaned and flung them down on the surface of the desk haphazardly. My body hurt, especially my GSW. I popped two Vicodin from the bottle Kyle had given me, and chased it down with a swig from the day-old glass of Smirnoff. Plunk. Down the hatch they went. Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz; Oh, what a relief it is! Bottoms Up. The phone next to me rang and I glanced at the caller ID. It was my mother. I rolled my eyes and for a split second considered not answering. I instantly discarded the notion and knew that my mom would not stop calling me until I picked up the phone or they pronounced me dead, whichever came first. I hated answering phones. I lifted the vintage-rotary desk phone from its cradle. "Hi mom." I spoke into the receiver. "Oh, Akira," my mom began in heavily accented English, "Why you want to know who call you before you answer? When I young girl in Japan WE not know who call before WE answer." I rolled my eyes. Sometimes my mom reminds me of Miss Swan. Only worse. "Mom you didn't even HAVE phones when you were a girl." I could hear her snort on the other end. "So what's up mom?" I asked wearily. "What up?" She asked in shock, "I tell you 'What Up'! I open the paper yesterday and what I see? I see YOU, my Akira, on front page! 'You get shot', it say!" I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily, this was going to be a long day. A VERY long day. "Mom, I went to the hospital, I'm alright now." She began crying and wailing in Japanese. "Mom please speak in English you know I'm not good with Japanese." I pleaded for the millionth time since I had stopped trying to grasp the concept of speaking Japanese in Junior High. "Oh, if only you become doctor like Kenichi. You make good doctor Akira, you make lots of money, you marry nice Japanese girl and you give me babies and everybody happy! Instead you make dresses for girls!" Right, everyone would be happy; except for me, I thought to myself, grinding my teeth. "You KNOW I'm gay mother. And I don't JUST make dresses; I make men's clothes too." My mother acted as if she hadn't heard a word I had said and began wailing again. "Oh, I go to Mahjong and ladies ask, 'What your son do?' and I say 'Akira make dresses for skinny girls that need food!' Oh, I not show my face at Mahjong any more!" Which I knew was a lie. My mother couldn't keep from playing Mahjong if Orlando was flattened by a hurricane. Mom and her little ladies would set up a card table in the ruins and play all day long. After arguing about how I wasn't living properly and how I should be a doctor like my brother, Kenichi, Mom FINALLY hung up. She had to get to Mahjong. I returned all of the phone calls that needed returning, and I replied to all the faxes that needed replying to. I began to page through the caller ID looking for Kyle's number so that I could return his call, when all I saw was NO CALLS displayed like a billboard. That's interesting. I didn't clear the call ID last night. I wonder who did? Then it struck me. Nick and Kyle were jealous of each other, right? I turned and glared at the wall separating my apartment from Nick's. That little ratfink cleared Kyle's number from the caller ID. UGH. Men. I should have married a nice Japanese girl and become a doctor. I shivered as I got a mental flash of myself sitting and playing Mahjong with a short dark-haired woman. Blech. Then again, Kenichi wasn't all that happy, was he? The doorbell rang. For Christ sake, it was 8:00 in the morning. I shuffled my bare feet over to the door and slid back the dead bolt. It was Kyle. My face immediately began smiling and I couldn't get it to stop. "Whoa, dude, what are you doing here?" Kyle laughed, 'Well, I thought you might like some breakfast on your first day home from the hospital." My face began smiling broader, and then my eyes decided they'd get into the act too. Damn. At that moment Nick opened his door and stepped out into the hall to retrieve the morning paper. He caught site of Kyle and they glared at each other. I swear I saw Nick kicking up dirt with his left leg and snorting. Men. I swear. "Sure," I said just to spite Nick, "Come on in Kyle!" Nick huffed and slammed his door. I cackled evilly to myself. Kyle was wearing a pair of tight-but-not-tacky-tight jeans and a soft black silk shirt. He looked cold but I guess that's what the leather bomber jacket was for. His nipples were hard through the shirt. I shivered as I thought about Kyle's nipples. Kyle had Chinese take-out in his hands. I grabbed the Chinese and immediately began shoveling it into my mouth ravenously. Kyle laughed, "Well good morning to you too, Akira." I chewed and swallowed and then replied, "I was going to return your call but SOMEBODY cleared my call ID." "That's okay Akira." Kyle's gaze swept my apartment. "Nice place you got here. Sparse, but it's got potential." I nodded, "If only I actually had that green stuff they call money." Kyle looked at the overturned Wega and then looked back at me, raising an eyebrow, "So who won?" He asked. I grinned wryly, "The TV." TO BE CONTINUED (www.aarondelorean.com)