Date: Sat, 12 Jan 2013 20:47:35 -0500 From: Sean Williams Subject: The Nicholson Boy, Chapter 11 The Nicholson Boy Chapter 11 When I was a kid growin' up in Kentucky, I thought Kentucky was the whole world and that there was nothin' beyond those green mountains to the East. Where I lived, what you might call the middle of nowhere, even for Kentucky, there was a lot of trees and that good ole Kentucky bluegrass. That's just this grass that looks kinda like dark green or blue in the sun with the blackest most fruitful soil underneath. But behind us was always the mountains, just always there, keepin' us sorta trapped where we were, but it didn't matter because where we were was the world. That's it. There wasn't anything else. I guess I thought that the world just fell off and ended beyond those mountains there. 'Them thar hills!' like they say in the movies. I mean, I guess every kid thinks that the world is flat until they learn about Christopher Columbus and all that and I just sorta thought that maybe if I went up those mountains and came down on the other side, alls I would see is the black whole of the end of the world. Maybe I might just trip and fall off, straight down into Hell. "Drivin' too fast?" asked Danzig, sittin' in the driver's side of his Cadillac De Ville. I sat beside him, in the passenger seat. Yeah, he was drivin' too fast. When I was like ten, still in Kentucky, my cousin Dale dared me to pull my pants down and run down the street like that, with my dick hangin' out and flappin' around. Maybe I was a dumb kid or maybe I just wanted to fit in, but I did it. Sure, I did. I pulled down my pants, and my Spider-man underwear and ran (or waddled) down the street. I mean, you can't really run with your pants down around your ankles. Behind me I could hear the laughs of my cousin and the kids on my street that had come out to shoot the shit with me and my cousin, who was sixteen and shoulda known better. So there I was was, runnin' down the street and when I got to the end of it, alls I could do was pull my shorts up and walk back to the front of my house, where the other kids were all standin'. I guess it was a good thing for me that there were only three houses on the country road I lived on and nobody to see me runnin' down the street with my teeny weeny ten-year-old dick floppin' around. I woulda got the beatin' of my life if my parents learned about that. Dale used to spend the night over at my house all the time and one time he came with a bunch of bags and stayed for like three months. He didn't even go to school he just sorta hung out at our place. The thing with Dale was that his Mom had a lotta problems and my Mom used to let Dale come down from Ohio and stay with us when his Mom was in a bad situation or needed time to pull himself together. So Dale would sleep with me in my room: top-to-toe. No, this isn't headin' where you think it's headin'. I wasn't interested in fuckin' at all until I was like thirteen. Dale always brought his Bible with him when he came to stay with us and he liked to read all the weird shit from Revelations about Beelzebub and the beasts and the end of the world. There's some crazy stuff in the back of the Bible if you read every line. I used to go to church every Sunday and the pastor never talked about that sorta thing so when Dale used to read about all that Heaven and Hell stuff it would scare the shit outta me. "Stop, Dale," I would say, but he would just keep goin' and when he got to a really good scary part his voice would just get louder and louder and he would slam his fist down on the hard bed and I would cover my eyes. C'mon, guys, I was ten. That Hell stuff was just too much for your boy Tucker and I wouldn't sleep those nights that Dale read from the Bible. By then, I was beginnin' to realize that the world didn't end if you left Kentucky because Dale wasn't from Kentucky, he was from Ohio, but there was still this part of me that thought that you could fall off the world and right down into torment. Maybe not if you left Kentucky, maybe in Canada or China or somethin'. Straight down into Hell with the devil, apparently Dale's favorite character from the Bible. There was somethin' about the Devil, this evil dude with this evil plan, that I just didn't get and just the idea of Satan, a man who might actually succeed in destroyin' the world and all the people in it, was... I don't know. It was just too much. "Too fast?" asked Danzig again cuz I didn't answer him before. "Naw," I said. "Let's just get to the Sheriff's Office." "We're almost there." "I know." Danzig stretched his arms out, takin' his hands off the wheel for a second or two, and then when he brought his arms down again he let one of them rest on the back of my seat. Only inches away from my head. "You're outta place here," said Danzig. "This isn't the place for you." Danzig had a way of speakin' that was different. He had this accent, or maybe it was the lack of an accent, that I couldn't place. I didn't know where the Hell the guy was from. Up North, I guess. "Where?" I asked. "I'm outta place where?" "Tennessee," said Danzig. "This isn't the place for you. I'm gonna show you other places. One day." "You mean with the team? Yeah, I guess we have matches with outta state schools. We're supposed to go Alabama in a few weeks and camp is in Mississippi." "That's not what I meant," said Danzig. I sighed. I was tired and I didn't know what the Hell this guy was goin' on about. "We there yet?" I asked. Danzig nodded and then a few seconds later he said: "The Sheriff's Office is right after this turn." Next thing I knew, Danzig was pullin' his De Ville into the lot beside the Sheriff's Office. As Danzig and me walked to the building, I saw one of the deputies pull the blinds of one of the windows to the side and watch us as we got closer to the door. The deputy was chewin' somethin' and when him and me made eye contact, he picked up a trash can and spit out what he was chewin' into it. "I'm not going in," said Danzig when we reached the door. He put his arms on my shoulders and I could feel all this weight. He squeezed my shoulders. "You're gonna wait out here?" "Yes," he said. "I don't care how long. Take as long as you need." Danzig released his hold on me and I turned and opened the door. I walked into the Sheriff's Office. I looked back and watched as Danzig walked back toward the car. He just had this swagger to his walk and damn did he have a nice ass. Yeah, I sprung wood but it died down a bit when one of the Sheriff's deputies approached me and asked me what I wanted. I said that I needed to see Frank Nicholson, the guy that they were holdin' on murder charges. "Who?" asked the deputy. "I think he's the only guy you have locked up here. The guy in the back." "Oh, Mr. Mystery," said the deputy, and then he started whistlin'. "So, well, can I see him?" The deputy shrugged and took me round back to see Frank. Frank was lyin' on the old beat up bed when the deputy opened the bar doors and I walked in. Frank sat up but he didn't say anything. I sat on the edge of the bed. I guess I would have to say somethin' first. "So, you're still here." "Why wouldn't I be here, Tucker? I mean, somebody has to be around to make you breakfast. That is, if I ever manage to get outta jail." "I mean, you're not dead. I mean, you are dead, but... um... I can still see you. You didn't disappear." Frank laughed. He reached up with his arm and rubbed my back. "Yeah, I'm still here," he said. "Halloween came and went," I said. "I'm still here, Tucker. I didn't disappear. I can't leave you all alone in the world, can I?" I shook my head. No, he couldn't. If Frank disappeared, I would definitely go back to Kentucky cuz there wouldn't be anything left for me here. I definitely wasn't that into baseball anymore and Matheson had kinda pulled me into this crazy world with him, a world more crazy than the one I had with the dead guy. I was so psyched Frank didn't disappear now that Halloween had passed. Dang, I didn't realize how good it felt to be with Frank until I was back in the cell with him. "Maybe I should just say I killed Coach Gunn, too, so they could lock me up here with you." Frank shrugged. "Don't do that," he said. "You gonna tell me what happened?" "Nope," said Frank. Well, that was the end of that. Me and Frank were still talkin' when the door to the Sheriff's Office swung open. This guy walked in and there was this gust of wind that kept the door open for like a minute after he came in. It was like that scene in the old Western when the bad guy walks in, the dude that killed the hero's brother or parents or somethin', and there's that wind in the saloon and everybody stops what there doin' and turns and looks up. It was like that when Scott Danzig walked into the Sheriff's Office. All the deputies stood up from where they were goofin' off and just sorta stared at Danzig. Frank saw Danzig when he walked in and he didn't just stare, he stood up. I looked at Frank and I wanted to ask him what was wrong. We watched as Danzig started talkin' to one of the deputies, I think it was that guy Becker, and pretty soon they were laughin' and smilin' but we couldn't hear what they were sayin'. Things got weirder cuz Frank walked over to the bars of the cell and I coulda swore he said "Scott?" but I couldn't really see his face so he mighta said anything. "What's goin' on, Frank?" I said. I stood up, too. "Do you know that guy?" said Frank. He didn't look at me but just kept starin' at Scott. "Yeah," I said. "He's on my baseball team." "On your baseball team?" "Yeah, his name's Scott Danzig. He's the one gave me a ride here." Frank put his hands on his head and started pacin' the cell. Just pacin' like there was somethin' on his mind and he didn't know what to do with it. "Damn," said Frank. I walked back over to the bed and sat on it. The old springs in the bed made this loud creak. "Keep away from that guy, Tucker," said Frank. "Just keep away." "What?" "I never told you to do anything, Tucker. Never. I always let you do just what you wanted to do, but you gotta listen to me. This time you gotta do what I say. Stay away from that guy." "Are you my Dad?" I asked. Yeah, I was gettin' angry. It was buildin' up. Who was Frank to tell me what to do? He wasn't even a livin' person. "Obviously not," said Frank. "I mean, I died in 1969." "Then why're you tellin' me what to do? I can take care of myself. Do you know that guy?" "Listen to me, Tucker. Don't fight me. I don't know how much time I have. I mean, I got some time. I can't tell you how I know what I know right now, but just listen to me. Stay away from that guy. Don't let him give you a ride home. Just walk, or if it's too far, get a ride from one of the deputies." I shook my head. Frank couldn't tell me what to do. I was a grown man. "Sure, Dad," I said. "Alright, boys, playtime is over," said Becker, passin' his nightstick across the bars real loud to get our attention. I stood up. "I gotta go." "Wait," said Frank, grabbin' my arm. "Stay a little while. I mean, you just got here. Just a little bit. Sir, can he stay for another hour or so? Please, sir, let him stay." "Nope," said Becker. "That's it." I shook off Frank's arm and followed the deputy outta the cell. I could feel Frank's eyes on me as I walked out. As I walked back toward the door, Danzig approached me. He smiled and put his arm around me. We walked outta the Office together. Next thing, we were back at Danzig's Cadillac. He opened the door for me and after I got in, he walked over to the driver's side. As he started up the car, he asked: "Whereto?" "Home," I said. "I mean, the dorm, I guess. Man, I don't know." And here we were, back on the road again. Ridin' with Scott, I remembered bein' back home in Kentucky. I remembered how I thought Kentucky was the whole world and if I left it, if I went beyond those Eastern mountains or further South where the ground just got real flat, I would fall off the world. Right down into Hell. Into torment. "You don't want to go home, do you?" "No," I said. At this point, we were just maybe half a mile from my dorm. Danzig stopped the car. He had his arm on the back of my seat again. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I don't know," I said. "I just feel like I don't know what the fuck is goin' on. My life is spinnin' outta control. Ever feel that way?" "No," said Scott. He smiled and all I could focus on was his blood-red hair and the muscular power of his body under his clothes. "We don't have to go to your dorm, Tucker." I turned and I looked Scott in the face. He looked at me, too, and a few seconds later he put his hands on the back of my head and pulled my face closer to his. It was kinda rough, but I didn't feel like he wanted to hurt me. He kissed me. Our lips locked and they rubbed together for a good minute. Our tongues wrestled in our mouths. I put my hand on Scott's chest. He grabbed onto my hand and maneuvered it under his shirt until I was feelin' his meaty chest. I could even feel the hair that his chest was covered with. "Where do you live?" I asked. "Not far," said Danzig. I nodded and Scott started the car up again. [TO BE CONTINUED.] [Later, buds! Let me know your ideas about what you think really happened to Frank Nicholson and, for that matter, who this Danzig guy is and why he seems to know all about Tucker and Frank.]