Cordell 9

“We’re alike, Cordell and me.”

“You ain’t nothing alike with that Cracker.” Keon answers Fourteen from the bed they have shared since December. “You get right with yourself, you’re going to know that.”

Fourteen sighs heavily. “Keon, that is not what I mean.”

“Jem, you don’t think I’m old enough to know what you mean?” Keon’s scornful. “Gay, straight, flexible, it’s a mistake. Boy, I tell you. I thought you were awake.” Keon lies back with his hands behind his head. The next words are just muttered to himself. “I’m just rappin’ to a friend. And I wanna move your trend.”

There is silence between the boys until Keon breaks it. “You gonna just stand there holding up the wall in those skinny jeans, or you gonna get in bed?” Fourteen goes gratefully into motion. “Toss some sticks on the fire, since you are still up.”

The room brightens into a soft red glow as Fourteen stokes the tiny burner with fresh kindling. Vondell is just a bundle of blankets on the upper bunk. Keon lies against the wall watching Fourteen. The boy’s shack is close and warm against the Arizona night. Fourteen wiggles the black slacks off his hips. He has spent the evening in the crusted-crotch pants and tight shirt. He wants to wash it all and wear comfortable jeans and something loose.

Fourteen pulls his bag from beneath the bed. A stack of hundreds lie neatly on the top. The underwear he was looking for is forgotten. “Thanks Keon.” Fourteen counts through the bills, feeling ready for his escape with Cordell. “There was more than this wasn’t there?” He twists on the bed to look at Keon.

“Oh yeah, that old doctor friend of yours slid you a pile. Three kilos, even. He must have seen you going home all pimped out. You two must have been tight.” Keon assures Fourteen.

“This is only fifteen hundred. I think we are going to need it all, Jem.” Fourteen’s voice is soft-reproachful.

“I left you five hundred in the bag. Where is that?” Keon challenges.

“Cordell has it.”

“Thought so, you dizzy boy.” Keon is lecturing Fourteen. He sits up in bed so they can look man to man. “I’ve got your back here, Jem. I’m not letting you hand over three thousand in cash, that bank card with who knows what else you have back in Pleasantville, Ohio … “

“Levi gave me the bank card. It’s not my bank account in Ohio.”

“Oh yo, and that old doctor man was loaded. Grandpa Malcolm says so. You crack that card, who knows what your old man left you?” Keon takes a deep breath. “Another minute, you are going to run your bare ass over to Cordell and hand him those fifteen Benjamins. No question about that, the more fool you. You can give that Cracker your two thousand, but I am holding onto the rest, and that tiny heat you are packing, until shit goes down.”

Fourteen would argue this, but he is tired of the strife. He nods his head in understanding and puts the money for Cordell back into his bag.

“Those Faulkner’s are a capricious lot. Old Samuel has that van load of trouble he passes on to Marco in Phenix. Only way that deal makes sense,” Keon adds to himself. “Before you scootch your bare ass into this bed, you swear it to me.”

“Swear what?”

“You don’t go open carry with the girlie-gun, that sharp toothpick, or the rest of the money. You are playing poker with your life, son. The family business is Cocaine, you simple boy. Those things are your hole cards. You swear on the woman who calls you Jem. You swear you’ll not go all in on this Cracker, hold some cards back for yourself.”

Fourteen wants to smile at the twelve-year old’s earnestness. Keon is so serious. “This isn’t necessary, Keon. Cordell is cool. When you’re older, you will get it.”

“Cool like a dead fish, you need to swear!”

“Okay, I swear.” Keon is skeptical. Fourteen tries to reassure Keon. “No, serious as a scorpion bite, I promise I will keep the rest to myself.” For now, Fourteen assures himself. It can be a surprise for Cordell when I think we need it.

The boys on the bed Dap up their unity on this. “You is so bad at that.” Keon decides with a shake of his head. Fourteen looks for forgiveness. Keon leans over and gives him a hug. It is supposed to be a slap-on-the-back hearty bro-thing, It turns into a tight clutch. The fight beside the cliff shook them both up. “You’re gonna bolt now, aren’t you?”

“Soonest, Keon.”

They lie back on the bed together, adjusting the blanket. “Don’t know when your mother decides it's time for you to leave the Pueblo. When you get settled somewhere, you have my email, all my email addresses. You surface, I surface, we can still talk. Heck, we both crossed America to get here.”

“Damn right,” Keon agrees. “Ohio is just a stop on the way back to the Bronx.”

Fourteen does not ask. He grabs Keon’s underwear and pulls it down. “Look who’s bare ass now.” Keon giggles and settles down beside the teen.

Fourteen’s hand is a ring, thumb and index finger around the base of Keon’s small shaft. He gently squeezes. The teenager’s fingers are a human cock ring; trapping the blood in Keon’s shaft, boosting the boy’s pleasure.

Fourteen sits up again, and the length of Keon’s gracefully thin torso is revealed when their blanket is pulled back. Ebony invites his touch, offers more. Keon watches, hands once again behind his lustrous tangle of coal hair. Keon lifts a knee and stretches one leg away, offering Fourteen fresh access to his smooth groin. Fourteen uses his other hand, in a fisted grip, to pull up and twist at the boy’s cock head. He brings his hand back down to meet the ring.

Keon moves a hand, so he can feel the older boy’s cock. Keon does not understand Fourteen’s obsession with boys. He cannot conceive of Fourteen’s desire to couple with men twice his age. Yet, Keon shares the strange pull of being hairless-immature in the arms of someone hairy-heavy-older. Keon’s fingers feel Fourteen’s cock-girth and his knuckles brush the teenager’s pubic bristle. Keon understands this drive to orgasm. This is the private urge he can share in the dark intimacy with his erotic older bedmate. Fourteen always gets cock-hard with Keon when he does this. Fourteen gets wet and excited touching Keon.

Levi Fisher is whispering calmly to Fourteen from their shared Luxor Winnebago before, or perhaps Levi’s dry voice echoes from The Nirvana now he shares with Tuan. Use the same ring grip, squeeze for a second then repeat as you make your way up your partner’s penis from the base to the head. The mix of pressures will keep him alert, Jeremy. Levi Fisher never said it, but Fourteen understands. Older hands bring young flesh alive, and younger companions are Bonsai Trees bending their maturation-inclination to the clay-life shaping of this mutual experience. Keon is never going to forget Jeremy Gates.

Bring Keon to the edge, Fourteen praises the now and after-possibilities of Keon’s masculinity. Keep edging the twelve-year old until his stripling body starts to move against the teasing hands. Enjoy the sensation of silken cock and naked sack beneath your palms, but watch the shadow belly sink and rise below the boy’s chest. Keon’s calloused palm becomes a death grip on Fourteen’s cock. Some instinct brings Keon’s thumb to Fourteen’s wrinkled frenulum where it rubs up to the pre-cum-dripping mouth. Keon is flick-a-Bic encouraging Fourteen to take his pubescent sex past feels good.

Keon’s preteen cock is lips-worthy. Fourteen could taste it on his tongue. Don’t think of beautiful black boys, Fourteen warns himself. Think of beautiful Cordell, think of San Diego and Cordell in Chillicothe, Fourteen reminds himself. The beautiful black boy starts to writh beneath his steady hands. The boy’s grip on his cock is almost painful. Fourteen squeezes back, then slides up the cock and ends with yet another twist of the head. He has Keon edging closer to a memory the straight preteen will never shake.

“Where were you Jerry? I was looking for you.”

Fourteen is wearing the tight black pants, but the T-shirt under the orange hooded sweatshirt is loose. Cordell knows Fourteen would rather be stripped to the waist than wear the constricting tops Cordell has scrounged for him. Pueblo storage is not Rufskin on 30th. Pretty Boy’s bubble ass and package fill the cotton blend slacks nicely. By way of greeting, Cordell runs his hand along Fourteen’s hip to the crack where Pretty Boy’s cunt waits-wet eagerly. The boy just strops his bobcat-body along Cordell’s coyote promise.

“I was keeping an eye on your dad. Marco is back from Phenix with the truck.” It is a quick turn around for the Montreal’s. “Angela and Roman are going back out for another load. Everyone is busy working on something.” Fourteen accepts a tongue between his teeth. Cordell’s beard rasps Fourteen’s mouth seductively. Fourteen is high on Cordell and the prospect of escape.

“What is pops up to this morning?”

“Samuel took his usual hike.” Fourteen is not thinking about his answer. He is thinking about the fingertips sliding under the tight waistband onto his glutes. He is feeling their crotches pressed together, blush-loving the ritual of this casual hard collision with his boyfriend. This is happily ever after, except for the unresolved San Diego, Chillicothe problem.

“Your dad does that. You must have noticed. Roman heads to the city, so your dad runs out to the van.” Fourteen breaks away. Before Cordell can process what Fourteen has just said, Fourteen distracts him with a fold of bills. “Keon gave me the money.”

Cordell takes the fold, already knowing if they are all hundreds it is still not enough. He turns his back on Fourteen and begins to count. Fourteen hugs him from behind. “Fifteen hundred, with the five I have, that’s two thousand.” Cordell feels the squeeze response from Pretty Boy. “It’s not enough, Babes. You and two thousand are not enough.” The last is inaudible to Fourteen.

Cordell walks away from Fourteen, pushing the bills into his pocket. He owes more than two thousand dollars to Elvis Parker. Cordell cannot show his face in Los Angeles, San Francisco, let alone San Diego and Tijuana if he does not have all of Parker’s money. I’m still screwed. Pretty Boy is watching him, arms folded across his chest. “What did you say? The van?”

The look Cordell gets back is not Pretty Boy, coked-up giddy-stupid by his boyfriend’s cock up his pussy. This is some Chillicothe, Ohio kid Cordell has never met. “You know about the van.” Not a question, just a guarded, mature accusation. Pretty Boy is saying, Be straight with me.

“Yeah, I found that when I was eleven. I thought it could make a fort for me, away from this goddamn Pueblo bullshit. A fort away from pops looking for another face fuck from his own son. “Pops caught me going out that way and then the van was gone.”

“It’s your dad’s, isn’t it?” Fourteen is not liking the van, Cordell can see this. Fourteen is all, Say No to Drugs. Cordell has to play it that way.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Cordell tries to match Fourteen’s disapproval, but the fifteen-year old is not that giddy-stupid. “I thought pops got rid of it.”

“No, it's out there. Keon and I stumbled on it. There is a lot of drugs in there.” Fourteen drops his arms and comes closer to his boyfriend. “It is just off a road to the east.”

“I wonder if the van still runs.” Cordell muses.

“I thought we were taking the Blazer.”

“We are Jerry, we are.” Cordell knows the Blazer can make the trip. The Blazer is Samuel’s pony, always ready for the fast exit. A so-so van rusting in the bush, loaded with cocaine is risky ride. The plates are old. Samuel keeps the unused Blazer-lifeboat road-ready.

“It’s drugs Cordell, a shitload of drugs.” Fourteen won’t touch the stuff, Cordell has to get that. He is standing over his boyfriend. Talking about Samuel Faulkner’s van is bad news.

“You’re right Pretty Boy.” Cordell runs an appreciative hand across Fourteen’s crotch. He squeezes the teen’s ready cock. It is already a slave to his touch. The ditzy boy would stand there drugged on endorphins fucking Cordell’s open palm until his rug-burned prick shot it mess onto a hip. Cordell needs to reward his Pretty Boy for the good news he has brought. “Where is the van now?”

“It’s dangerous Cordell. We don’t need any part of that.”

“Of course we don’t, baby.” Cordell starts opening Fourteen’s skin-tight pants. “I don’t want the old man thinking I am sniffing around his business just when we want to ditch this dead end. I just want to stay clear of it till we take off.” Cordell swallows the eager erection. He pulls off to add, “Fuck it, baby. Tomorrow morning, let’s ditch this crazy-ass, old-hippy, Boomer commune. Fuck it!. It’s time for you to see San Diego.”

Fourteen is too smart for this, but it is hard not to simply go with the flood of feelings he has for his Arizona cowboy. Cordell lacks Fourteen’s Levi-Evil Jedi cock-tricks. It does not matter, Cordell’s mouth and fingers are saying, This is not the problem you are looking for. Fourteen tells him about the tortuous path through the hill sheltering the Pueblo from the outside world. His cock is being served and Cordell’s fingers are making promises to his ass. The van is no longer worth discussing. Cordell has Fourteen is in the Blazer, the desert morning blowing across his face, His boyfriend is taking him West to freedom in one explosive ejaculation.

Cordell accepts Pretty Boy’s load and swallows. The boy needs his ass reamed out. Fourteen is ready for it like a bitch sweats for the man-meat. Cordell knows pops will be back soon with cocaine Roman will pass on to Marco. It all makes sense now, he chortles to himself. Yes, Jerry is the sexy boy for sure. There are things to do before the boys can slip away. Pretty Boy will have to wait for his fuck.

“I feel bad about how I treated Keon. He won’t want to hear it from me.” Fourteen.  Stands before him, hips thrust toward him, pretty ass tense under Cordell’s fingers. The boy just wants Cordell to fuck him stupid on a lazy Arizona morning, Cordell can tell. Oh, Pretty Boy is all that and more. “You spend the day with him. I have to find a way to distract pop tonight. Then I can put the Blazer back together. Before dawn babes, we leave before the sun.”

Fourteen smothers him with kisses, like he wants to suck his own cum back up Cordell’s throat.

The plans for flight seem solid. Cordell went behind the Faulkner’s roundhouse to check the Blazer under its dusty tarp. The battery is on the drip charger. A set of keys is on the frame where they can reach them. Cordell wonders what his father has stashed in the old vehicle. His pops has sat here seven years, but he has always been ready to run. It is too early to disturb the dust. That would give the game away.

The two boys walk back towards the other houses holding hands. Cordell primes the San Diego pump to well up Fourteen’s enthusiasm. The morning is almost done, so the king brother’s home schooling is out for lunch.

They pause to watch the handoff between Samuel and Angela as Roman starts up the old patina truck. Ruby-Leigh has some last minute items on her shopping list. She hands them to the Montreals. Pueblo routines, this is the communal flow. Since December, Fourteen has been part of this routine. It is after March now, Levi, time to go home. Still February, but after March anyway.

A long afternoon and longer evening stretch ahead. Fourteen wants to spend it hiking in the desert with the brothers. Angela will be gone all night, so last night was his last chance to let her laugh at pequeno gallo’s Spanish as he helped her finish the chicken stew. Ruby-Leigh stands watching the old truck begin its journey to the city. Keon and Vondell’s mother always seems to imply, You should be going with them. He decides to ask Ruby-Leigh if she needs help with dinner. It would be a Thank you for the dubious hospitality the Kings have offered. He could start a loaf of sourdough, but it would not be ready for the evening. Bisquets maybe.

Fourteen will not miss last chances with Inez. They have been cool since Fourteen’s romance with Cordell. She took the rejection with a shrug. Inez is just another coupling since the August fair. Inez is Scott, or Barry, or that woman in the hotel room. He does not understand the young woman’s complacency with the Pueblo. “Inez should come with us.” He mentions generously to his boyfriend.

“I’ll ask her.” Cordell agrees. Fourteen and Cordell exchange a kiss, and then they join the King’s and Samuel Faulkner for lunch. Fourteen’s heart is generous with the Pueblo people as he sits in the courtyard sunshine listening. The whole last day feeling is upon him.

Fourteen is off rambling with the King brothers and Cordell has trouble-shot the water pump at the grow-op with his pops. He wants to clean his father out when he goes, take some ganja for the San Diego retail market. School kids will not fuss about the poor quality and he can discount it. The drop-dead money is in the bricks of cocaine he will offer to Elvis Parker. Samuel needs distraction.

The Montreal mud-pile is quiet when Cordell comes by. Ruby-Leigh will be doing mother-King things and old Malcolm will be keeping everything ship-shape or nodding off for a siesta. This is the usual slowness of the Pueblo. Cordell stops by the boy-shack to check Pretty Boy’s black bag. Besides the iPod and the useful passport, he finds nothing valuable. Keon and Vondell have nothing worth taking. Fourteen is like Samuel Faulkner, always packed and ready to go. The black bag has pockets everywhere. Cordell checks them all. He finds the Crystal Blue Persuasion of Sapphire dildo. That makes Cordell laugh. Pretty Boy is into sex toys. Something to try later, he promises Fourteen’s tight ass. Cordell will not pack this time. His pops would catch on to that.

Cordell saunters back to Inez’ room to have a serious chat. He pauses at the door to listen and collect his thoughts. Inez should come with me, Cordell concludes. He can give her the city life she craved. Nobody understands or accepts him better.

The bedroom door closes quietly behind him and he takes a sardonic pose beside it. Very Pueblo, Cordell observes. Inez is lost in Asher’s arms, stroking her brother’s back. Asher’s hairy bulk weighs her down. Asher’s dull mind is probably lost between his meaty hips. Cordell lands on Asher’s naked back.

“Ready for a threesome, Asher?”

Inez is annoyed by this. Cordell cocks an eyebrow at her frown. Asher is more violent. He tries to heave Cordell off his back. He nearly manages this too, because one year younger, he is twenty pounds heavier. Cordell rides him with a grin. Asher is encumbered by the sheets and Inez embrace.

“Don’t be a dick, Cordell.” It is as if Cordell has walked in on her inserting a tampon. He is a nuisance at the moment. If Cordell wants a threesome, he can come back with Kay another time.

“Fuck off,” Asher growls annoyed.

Cordell wraps an arm about Asher’s neck, a light threat to his larynx, but mostly to avoid being bucked off. He starts dry humping Asher’s failing cock back into Inez. Cordell has had no interest in Asher since they were preteens listening to Inez and Marco through the bedroom curtain.

Inez decides to be Cordell’s ally in this game. Asher is an easy mark, what with his incessant jealousy of Inez’ other partners. Fourteen was oblivious to Asher’s anger. Cordell’s return sent Asher into despair. Asher is such a baby. Her father Roman handles all of this so much better. She coaxes Asher’s passion, knowing that this copulation will continue. Asher’s anger combines with his adolescent lust. Her brother lets Cordell’s vicious thrusts direct his fucking. Inez abandons her brother and strokes Cordell’s face.

There is a flicker of a smile between Inez and Cordell when Asher orgasms between them. Asher has been reduced to a convenient phallus between them. His growls of annoyance are ignored as Cordell slams Asher’s groin into Inez three more times. Cordell might be simply shaking his cock off after a strong piss. Cordell snakes a hand down toward Asher’s groin as if to cop a feel. That is too much for the angry boy. He elbows Cordell and rolls away from both of them.

Asher is humiliated once again by everyone. The interloper, Inez’ Kay, Keon’s Jeremy, momma’s pequeno gallo, Fourteen was maddening enough, but this thing between Inez and Cordell cannot be fought. It is not fair, Asher fumes. Marco’s younger brother should have won this contest, not Samuel Faulkner’s son. Asher tries to find his dignity, he will borrow Cordell’s sardonic confidence. Asher bites back his petulance.

“Not off fucking pequeno gallo?” His afternoon plans in ruins, Asher has no option but to retreat with dignity. “Pequeno cono de gallina,” he adds as if it is all one to him. The Pueblo elders may not have noticed Fourteen and Cordell sneaking off, but Asher has. Asher welcomed it. The Pueblo sex is just what the younger generation does, like going out on black light scorpion hunts.

“Jerry is scrambling up rocks with Keon and Vondell.” Cordell runs a hand up Inez’ torso, just to annoy Asher. He follows up with fingers massaging Asher’s cum about Inez’ clitorus. “I need to talk to Inez for a minute. You can fuck off for a while. Go clean off the solar panels, or turn the compost,” Cordell dismisses Asher.

It is easy to dismiss Asher. He was never a contender for Cordell’s attention. Fourteen is quite another matter. Fourteen has utility. Pretty Boy can almost make Cordell understand the passion of sex. It is a pleasure to fuck with Fourteen. Pretty Boy knows what the fuck he is doing. Cordell thinks about this as he sucks on Inez’ nipples. His hand continues its manipulations.

Cordell waits till Asher has left Inez’ beehive. His voice is low, because it would be just like Asher to sit masturbating his offended manhood on the other side of the door. “Jerry and I are leaving tonight.”

Inez is disappointed with this news. “You said you needed money.” She reminds Cordell.

“Jerry gave me some.” Cordell shrugs, dismissing this. “It’s not enough. I’m taking pop’s Blazer and some cocaine. Jerry and that little nigger found where pop’s moved the van.” The pressure on Inez’ groin intensifies as Cordell transmits his excitement to her. Inez gasps, as she always does beneath Cordell’s hands.

“You will never come back. Samuel will kill you if you do. He will come after you and cut your balls off.” Inez is drenched, needing Cordell to take her.

“Come with me.” Cordell’s fingers find her vagina and thrust in so he is cupping her sex in his palm.

“You have Kay.”

What of that? Cordell dismisses the irrelevance. Since forever it is Inez and Cordell when they are together. When they are not, it is someone else. Asher’s leavings just make Cordell want Inez more. Cordell and Inez are conquistadors. A boy like Kay is simply new territory.

“Jerry wants to go home.” Cordell bites an exited tit. “We will have the money we need to live the way you want. Money for an apartment, money to party. We can stay in San Diego and Tijuana or move up the coast.” His fingers coax Inez. “You and me!”

“I don’t think so, Cordell. You are loco peligroso. What of this?” She asks, touching the tattoos on Cordell’s back. Inez understands the tattoos very well.

“When I show up with Jerry and the snow, they won’t matter.” Cordell grins fiercely at Inez. Johnnie Sparks will accept his buyout proposal, Elvis Parker will love the cocaine. Cordell will step up in San Diego.

Inez considers Cordell’s offer. She knows Cordell better than his own father. “I don’t think so.” She decides. She is more like her mother Angela, easy going. She is more like Roman, content with the Pueblo drift through the days. Cordell always offers uncertainty and risk. San Diego was too dangerous for Inez before. Even with Cordell’s money, it will be dangerous again.

Cordell accepts this without argument. His plan is good either way. This is what he expected from Inez. San Diego will be less fun without her, but the lovers find their own way. “I need your help distracting pops.” This was his real reason for coming to Inez.

“This bullshit with Asher, or maybe you are still thinking Marco wants you in Phenix. He has his new women there. You know he won’t want you. Now, my pop wants you. You know he does. Maybe you want him too.”

“What do you know?” Inez scorns Cordell’s words. Cordell has stopped touching her. Samuel es el toro. Cordell es un ternero joven. They know each other. Inez wants the bull, not the calf. Samuel interests her.

“I know Pops has been passing Blow to Marco for years. The money is going somewhere pops can get at. His house has the best junk out here. You could share it with him. Be his woman, Inez.”

“You plan to rob him blind.”

“If you won’t come with me, I will leave most of the cocaine behind. Jerry says he saw a lot left in the van. Pops has his money hidden somewhere, years of money squirrelled away. There is still a fortune in cocaine out there in that van, I’m sure of it.” Cordell continues to win her over. “I’ll only take what I can carry. All the rest is yours. You can handle pops. You can get out of this mud hut, move in with him. His money would buy you a nice place in Phoenix near Marco, or wherever. You could help pop hide out here, like he wants to.”

Inez bites her lip. “What do you want me to do?”

He is only twelve, he is straight, three years younger than you, and so damningly innocent. If Fourteen was not so preoccupied with Keon’s pulsating erection, he will not admit to the irony of this final seduction. Keon is making noises like, “Gnguh, Mmm, Mmm, Gnguh, Mmm, Mmm … “ Fourteen is revelling in endless diversity of man.

Patrick and John hardly let Jeremy Gates perceive his transition from virginity. Patrick snatched his rightful share of that euphoric-terror from him. John was not emotionally equipped to give it back. Fourteen’s relinquishment of innocence was simply overwhelmed by the seductive violence of the six day trauma from Chillicothe to Gifford Pinchot State Park. It was left to Levi Fisher to reinitiate Fourteen into the intimate sharing of human secrets. The difficult old man was always with him, thanks to that.

You’re blowing Keon’s mind, and then you are going to step out of his life. Fourteen knows that is a fucked up thing to do. He knew better than to do this with Dan Gordon by the shores of Lake Michigan. Dan Gordon was twelve, Keon King was barely twelve, yet here Fourteen was on his knees. Keon is opening himself to physical intimacy for the first time, and that is huge. Sex is revolutionary.

It was not going to be this way. It was a very long night for Fourteen and Keon shared it with him. Keon was keyed up about Fourteen leaving. Fourteen had checked his bag four times waiting for the first hint of dawn. “What is the date? What’s the time? Fuck! I should have kept that damn watch!” Fourteen quarrelled.

Keon shrugged, “The 24th, I think. I wrote that down on my paper this morning. Momma said next Fall I’m back in a real school. Grade seven, man. I’ve forgotten what a classroom is like.”

“Me too.” Fourteen agreed. After his half hearted attempts to study textbooks on the road with Levi, Fourteen let school go. “Man it is going to suck if I have to take grade nine again next year. All my friends would be a year ahead.”

“It’s going to suck when you are gone.”

Then it was almost time to meet Cordell and somehow Keon was perched on the edge of the bed with his pants around his ankles. Keon’s cock was hard and Fourteen was going down on him. Fourteen had to try it once. February 24th and he was just fifteen-years old, almost fourteen still. Keon was almost twelve, so maybe fourteen and twelve was not so pervy far apart.

Keon is making noise in his soft way so they will not wake Vondell in the bunk above. Fourteen is humming tangerine on Keon’s cock in a way he never does with Cordell, but it is a sound that could prompt Levi Fisher to reach down and stroke his hair. Keon is only eleven, really. It can end in bliss for the boy, but not the climax Fourteen wants. There is no time to wait for Keon to grow up for that.

“Hey, can a queer give a straight boy a kiss?” Fourteen asks holding his bag at the door.

“No tongue.” Keon warns. First blow job, first kiss, Fourteen is uncertain how Keon will remember all of this. Kindly, he hopes. He does not want to be the selfish user. Somehow, the kiss just tasted like their friendship. It was scrambling over icy rocks together under a promise-sky. They broke apart quickly and Keon gave Fourteen a friendly shove.”Okay, so go Jem.”

“You’ll get an email account. You’ll send me a message.”

“Sure thing, Jem.” Fourteen is turning away in his stupid tight black pants. The pants remind Keon of his obligations. “Hang on, bro.”

Keon finds the ziplock bag out and holds it out to Fourteen. “Here you go, Jem.”

“Oh man, thanks! I totally forgot that.” The Caricom Passport and the genuine bits and pieces that reminded him that Fourteen was Jeremy Gates. He did not want to leave these behind.

“And these,” Keon held the holstered Beretta Nano and a box of shells.

“Maybe you should keep it. I can’t hit a tat get anyway.” Levi’s gun held bad memories, not least of which was that moment by the stream when Fourteen’s desperation tempted him to pull the gun on Malcolm King. The Beretta Nano was John Canon. So maybe it would be a souvenir to leave with Keon.

“You’ll but it in your bag along with the money, Jem.”

Keon unzips Fourteen’s black bag and settles the weapon to the bottom with an angry shove. “You go now, Jem. I told you I would bring it to you when you needed it.”

“Keon …”

“You told him about the van.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then you know what Cordell is going to do.”

“Keon,” Fourteen stopped. Keon just did not know Cordell. It was too late to change that now. Keon held his knife out. Fourteen simply took it and added to the bag. “So long, Keon.”

“You’re smart Jem. You watch your back.”

Fourteen grinned at all this seriousness. His boyfriend was waiting for him at the Faulkner’s round house. Keon never knew the good in Cordell. “You worry too much kid. Stay in touch.”