Jazzie 5

Unwelcome Distractions

“Watch a movie on the tablet, Jem?” Theo looks up from his phone. “I’ve just got T-34.” Theo and Jeremy are simply sitting with their phones.

Jeremy is slouched in the chair beside the wicker couch, “Maybe not.” Jeremy’s leg is bouncing out of some inner need. Half a year makes them an old teenage couple. They are not yet comfortable shoes broken to the feet. Jeremy’s grandmother Mary would scoff at that anticipation. You learn to sit easily together, to rest like best friends do. The heart slows down, but the memories never leave a body in peace. Mary Gates could verify that.

Theo shrugs this movie rejection off and exchanges his phone for his pedicure kit. He lifts a leg up on the couch so he can work on his cuticles. He brushes the hair out of the way with his knuckles. Jeremy, still slouched, is looking at him over the top of his phone. This warms Theo, who likes to be beautiful for men (everyone actually). Theo likes getting the look. His eyes go up to acknowledge his boyfriend. Jeremy’s focus returns to his phone.

The apartment, which his boyfriend nicknamed Da Nang in whimsical honor of the haunted old man who bequeathed Fourteen Gates to Jeremy, is more Theo’s than Jeremy’s; or perhaps more fairly, theirs together. The fourteen-unit Fourteen Gates is somewhat more than half structurally secured. The first phase completed two sides of the former primary school facing the harbor. Money is at hand to complete the distressed, northeast remainder.

They are being evicted from Da Nang. This makes them both sad. Jeremy, Theo suspects, is reluctant to be forced into a finished BnB that ties him closer to his traumatic odyssey across America. Da Nang is Theo’s creation. He helped install the new windows facing the inner court, he scrounged furniture, and freshly painted the tired 1970’s studio, all to entice his boyfriend off his cherished sailboat. A renovated BnB across the courtyard will be just a hotel room for them both. Jeremy won’t see it any other way, until I work on his foolish stubbornness again! The finished units are very nice. Theo reminds himself with anticipation.

The heart slows down, but the memories never leave a body in peace. Theo half wears the short kimono-style robe with a chrysanthemum flower pattern. His-not-his, because it was worn by another, first. It falls decorously off a Beyoncé-boy shoulder and reveals Theo’s smooth torso. Smooth calf, silken inner thigh and microfiber briefs. Memories tease. Jeremy’s hungry lips consumed that thigh and he knows the pendulous weight contained by Theo’s blue-ice boxer briefs.

Jeremy is sixteen, and that means he can trip over his own body unexpectedly. He is Gay, so a fabric-fluffed crotch can hold his appreciative eye on the street. The way a man lifts, turns, or stretches can spark imagination. The cascade of Theo’s hair brushing his face or mopping his open thighs, Jeremy remembers.

“Do you want to split a beer?”

Theo pares a little with his clippers before replying. “Feeling a little thirsty, Jem? Mouth a little dry?”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

Theo rests his cheek on a knee to give Jeremy his answer to the look. He has his memory theater too. The length of Jeremy deep inside, the swell of healthy biceps casually holding up the phone, hairless forearm he can kiss as Jeremy supports his weight across Theo’s back; and Theo remembers the smoothness of his boyfriend’s cheeks against his fresh-shaved thighs.

Theo is eighteen, less prone to trip over his own body (into a prone position). He has an inclination for the older men he embraced in Miami. Men like Shari at first, then men like Tod who took him on their boats. Theo likes the life-lessoned-learned patina on their faces. Boys, like Jeremy's friends Chris Aska and Jerry Roberts are too innocent for Theo. Jeremy is different. He came to Theo like Fergus came to Dil in The Crying Game. The fictional one haunted by what he had done across the water, his one still haunted by unspoken memories. Jeremy came to Theo with life's patina acid-etched into his young face.

Jeremy walks his bobcat-poise to the tubercular fridge beside the bathroom. The can cracks, and he begins a pour. Drinking is something the boyfriends usually do in places like Heroes Sports Bar, or someone’s BnB in Jolly Harbour. They make it worth someone else’s while. He is carefully topping up the glasses when Theo sheds his kimono-robe and moves behind him.

It starts with a loving waist lock; Theo's forearm pressed into Jeremy's solar plexus. Jeremy abandons the glasses and wriggles around. His palm presses along Theo's bicep and travels to Theo's face. Just a suggestive pressure of the heel of his hand against his boyfriend's jaw. This turns the head away, and Jeremy follows up by combing his fingers into Theo's mane. Their cocks press together in agreement. This overture of desire suggests an overture to the cat fight sex they've chosen for the moment. Theo and Jeremy square off. They rotate away from the kitchenette, hands mirrored on shoulder and forearm. Their eyes converse like professional wrestlers ready to spar.

Free of unwelcome obstructions, Theo off-balances Jeremy, breaking his hold. The young man swings in quickly with a right hip bump hoping to carry Jeremy diagonally past the table, and down on the bed for a quick pindown. That means risking extra steps. Jeremy giggles, and decides to forfeit his position. He drops to his knees beside the couch.

Jeremy's lighter strength tries for a thigh hold that should take his boyfriend off his feet. Theo counters this with an overarm hook, hoping to immobilize Jeremy. The boy responds by twisting out of the hook, intending to regain his footing. Theo drops on Jeremy with an arm-and-chest offense.

The giggling has stopped. There is just the sound of heavy breathing. They lie in their tangled embrace, Theo pinning Jeremy, except for a defiant leg twisting Jeremy's growing erection towards Theo's face. Theo's head drops down and he kisses Jeremy's side.

There is flinching now and then. Half-hearted efforts by Jeremy to break the hold, Theo deciding how best to shift around so he can cover his boyfriend. Half-hearted because they love the tight embrace, the smell of each other, and the coursing blood that heats them.

As soon as Theo's grip slackens, Jeremy takes advantage. He tries to roll beneath the young man, but this leaves him on his knees in a Half Nelson with Theo scissored around his hips. They are both panting now. Theo's groin grinds into Jeremy’s spine. The young man humps his back in a suggestive rythme. ♪♫♬ I get a little bit nervous around you, Get a little bit stressed out when I think about you ♪♫♬ Get a little excited ♪♫♬ Baby, when I think about you, yeah ♪♫♬ They freeze. ♪♫♬ I get a little bit nervous around you, Get a little bit stressed— "Hey Google, Answer Call," Jeremy calls out.

“You know it is your mother.” Theo giggles on top of him.

Jeremy? You got someone on your boat, I think. The voice is Gustavus from his sailboat, Lejonet i Norr, moored beside Gravity in the harbor.

"Nope," Jeremy's consternation is clear. "Did you go and check?"

Lights are off; thought it might be you, entertaining. The lock is off the companion way. Do you want me to check it out?

"I'll just come down. Can you keep an eye on things?"

Jeremy actually prefers Shekerley's Boatyard at the north end of Falmouth Harbour. His sailboat is more secure in the busy marina, he can work for mooring and utilities, and if he moves Gravity out into the larger harbour, he has more leeway. The smaller historic harbor is very busy and not so quiet. There are restaurants all around, and the music can be a cacophony. English Harbour is exciting, but slightly overwhelming to a teenager seeking tranquility.

Jeremy stands on the floating dock, surveying the restaurant over at Nelson's Dockyard for a moment. "Any action?" He asks the old man smoking a cigarette in the neighboring cockpit. There is little reason to be quiet. If someone broke in, they have likely done their damage and vanished into the hot night.

"Nothing to report, Jeremy."

The lock is off the top board, but the sliding hatch is closed. Nobody has disturbed the padlocks securing the cockpit lockers. A flash of doubt flickers. Did I forget to lock it in a hurry? That would be disturbing. He cannot afford to make mistakes like that.

Jeremy pulls two boards and hops over the third. His feet swing for a moment and then he drops onto the sole of his boat. He lifts the chart table top. The tablet is still there. There are dirty dishes in the sink. A takeout box is on the table. Should have brought Theo's baton, Jeremy scolds himself.

When the lights flick on, Jeremy turns to see bare legs squirming through the V-berth hatch. "Motherfucker!" His first impulse is to try and grab the kid's legs. The trespasser is too quick.

John slept through the conversation on the dock. It was Jeremy's feet dropping to the floor that woke him. There is no thought. He has planned for this; just pull the screen free, push the release, go through the hatch.

There is a man on the dock blocking his way back up the path. While John hesitates, Jeremy comes back up the companion way. John's heart hurts so bad. He backs toward the bow pulpit.

"John," Jeremy calls out.

John turns to the water and jumps in. He is going under. It is quiet there. With Jeremy above him, he wants to stay down here. His body surfaces against his will, John starts awkwardly swimming towards the lights across the harbor.

"God damn!" Jeremy moves to the bow. Well, the kid's not drowning … yet. Jeremy is not considering options, there are none. He watches John a while, and then toes off his shoes.

It is an easy swim over to where John is flailing through the water. The boy stops swimming for a moment and turns back. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Then the boy’s mouth dips under and he comes up coughing. Jeremy treads water just out of reach. John turns back to Nelson's Dockyard and the busy restaurant. He resumes swimming.

Three relaxed strokes, and Jeremy can coast beside the boy, side stroking in lazy kicks. "It's a long way, John. Let's go back."

John just throws himself on Jeremy and they both slip under for a moment. When they surface, "I'm sorry! I was just borrowing it. I wasn't going to keep it." Jeremy's strong scissors keep them on the surface as the boy sobs against his neck.

“Theo Clarke, meet John Carter.”

“Well,” Theo strikes a meditative pose, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Jeremy has John in easy custody. His hand is lightly on John’s shoulder. They are both still soaked. It is a good look for Jeremy; hair suggestive of exertion, his shorts still heavy on his hips with the harbour water. The boy is, well, the boy. The pants dry, except where Theo can see the underclothes have soaked through the thin fabric. John’s mop of hair hangs woefully bedraggled about his round face.

John crinkles his nose at the young man facing him. Jeremy’s friend is about Tayo’s height. The two young men might be about the same age. The similarities end there. Tayo is Gray’s Farm. Theo Clarke belongs in one of the fine, gated houses Pudgee Funk and Tayo drove John past. With his silken robe, the young man should be poolside at the Five Star Inn across the road from Jeremy’s place. Jeremy’s friend’s hair is long, but not in dreads.

“Had a bit of a paddle on the pond, did we?” Theo’s face turns slightly disapproving. His rich, alto voice layers on the seductive-superiority for the pair. “You’re mucking up my floors; best take those off and get washed up.”

“You,” and Jeremy signals Theo to watch the boy with forked fingers. “Gustavus is keeping an eye on things. I have to go back and lock up.”

“Ta,” Theo replies. Once Jeremy has left, Theo assesses the bedraggled boy. Apparently the little thief is handling capture like the recidivist pro he probably is. The boy is brazenly casing Jeremy’s studio space. Tallying everything up, no doubt. “Wonderful to finally meet you. Jeremy has told me ever so many interesting things about you.” John turns his round face back to Theo. “Right, off with those togs,” Theo snaps in the tone Susan Carter uses on the little ones. Theo folds his arms.

John hesitates, then pulls his shirt off. Theo snaps his fingers impatiently, so John hands him the shirt. Theo takes the pants, “Stay.” Theo scrutinizes John’s face. The shrewd assessment makes John nervous. He folds his arms across his bare chest. Theo walks around behind him, deep in some consideration. John swivels to keep the young man in his view. “Right!”

Theo dips into John’s pockets. The discoveries are quite dramatic and it serves to ease John’s nervousness. The Galaxy phone comes out. Theo holds it up as evidence, then places it carefully on the table: exhibit one. Then John’s pocket money comes out. Theo raises an eyebrow at the unexpected wealth. John tries a smile and shrugs. The young man is setting him more at ease with his mockery. Theo’s eyes narrow dangerously, so John switches to innocence. Exhibit two is added to the table. Theo places Jeremy’s padlock key beside the rest, and sighs at the heavy betrayal: exhibit three. John blushes.

With his finger on the key, Theo looks at John, “You hurt my Jem, you did.” The words are deadly serious. John’s eyes mist over and he bites his lip. “Di man mek outa honey, fly wi nyam him.” The creol comes out unexpectedly, transforming John’s impression of the posh young man.

“I didn’t mean to. I was just borrowing it,” John tries to explain once again. He means it too. He was going to give the hard drive back. He meant to. John is sure of it.

“Bad ting neva got owner,” Theo replies softy. “Good friend betta dan pocket money.” He flips the wad of bills with a manicured finger.

“I know! I’m sorry!” John presses his knuckles into his sockets because Theo’s mothering tone has him crying now.

Just a boy, Theo understands. “Right, off with the rest; you need to clean off.”

John rubs the tears away and removes his wet underwear meekly. Theo points to the pile on the table. Then the young man points to the bathroom door.

“Go wash, pick a towel,” Theo watches John walk gingerly to the door. He actually looks in as if it is a trap, then turns back to Theo, unsure. Theo gives him an exasperated look.

Jeremy’s bathroom is quite colorful. The tub and tiles are more Central American than Caribbean. The style is similar to Papa Jack’s house; that is to say dated. John closes the door. The water is very hot. John loses himself in this luxury. He covers himself in Theo’s scented soaps. He is lying on his back when the door opens. “Here’s something to put on when you're finished.” John sits up. There is no irritable comment about using too much water. Same-not same, John’s first impression of Jeremy’s apartment was correct. First glance, it is no better than the Carter’s home, but John understands the difference as the hot water washes off the suds.

Theo has left a blue and white T-shirt. I support LGBTQ – Straight Allies, John reads. Between the words, there is the logo of some school. The shirt is too large. It hangs down to John’s knees. Before he leaves the bathroom, John carefully puts the towels back where he found them.

Theo is sitting on the couch working on his toes. John starts a circuit of the room. The wall between the corner bathroom and the bed is one long line of closets. The first one is slightly open. John checks on Jeremy’s friend, then peaks inside. There is a tangerine shirt dress with black peacock lines and a blue eyed pattern hanging from the inside. This is not the dress John remembers seeing. John fingers the fabric.

“Leave my things alone,” Theo advises.

John looks at the young man again. He closes the closet door. The double bed sits against the enormous window that looks out onto Fourteen Gates’ courtyard. The windows are open, and the evening air disturbs the sheer fabric covering them. Besides this, there is a bookshelf by the door, and the battered wicker couch flanked by two disreputable chairs.

John does not know what to make of Jeremy’s friend. “Where’s Jeremy?” he asks.

Theo switches feet before replying. “He will be down on the boat, setting things to rights.” No telling how long that will be, Theo adds to himself. Jeremy might linger, as he does, finding things to delay him; letting his memories of sailing blue water beguile him. He might be lurking on a channel, listening to the chatter on his VHF radio. He might be sharing brännvin with Gustavus on the old Swede’s sailboat. Or Jem might be trying to decide what to do with this little boy, Theo speculates.

The boy is standing in the middle of the room. Theo watches him tug at the T-shirt so it won’t fall off his shoulder. John is around Theo’s cousin’s age. “I expect you’re hungry. There’s a beef empanada left in the fridge. You can put it in the microwave. Use a plate!”

John decides he likes the cumin, paprika, oregano, and cayenne flavors. He nibbles on the pasty as he watches Theo carefully apply burgundy polish to the last toes. “Jeremy tells me you live in St. John’s. You are a long way from home.” John gnaws on a bit more empanada. “He thinks you stay at some aunt’s and uncle’s in Cobbs Cross.”

“You’re from Jamaica,” John deflects. “You talk posh like a land tourist. Mum says I have to talk correctly,” John exaggerates the word. “Mum says I need to if I want to get work in an office or resort.”

“You have a very smart mother,” Theo observes. “And what will she say about you pirating sailboats in the night?” Theo gets a flash of the boy’s Jazzie-independence. John shrugs and takes a big bite that leaves a smear of beef gravy on the corner of his mouth.

“Did you make this?” John examines the last of his meat pie.

“Honey, Jeremy is the cook, I just heat things up around here.” Theo caps his nail polish. “Let’s take a look at your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Oh honey, if you only knew!”

John sits cross legged with his back to Theo as the young man grooms his hair. This is the sort of thing John’s mother does with his sisters. It is soothing. “I’m American, like Jeremy. Born in Miami, my dad’s American. I’ll be going back there to study.”

Theo talks about himself a while, then asks John a question about himself. He learns about John’s family in Gray’s Farm; just little things the boy thinks are safe and inconsequential. “Jeremy’s mad at me, isn’t he? That’s why he is still on the boat.” John pulls away from Theo and turns to look at the young man. “I only borrowed the hard drive. I didn't take anything else. Some food,” John admits. He turns away before Theo can respond. The grooming continues.

“It’s all about getting the shade right for your skin tone, you don’t want to go for anything lighter or darker than your natural skin shade.” Theo has moved on to John’s face. “Of course I play cricket. Jeremy has tried it. Something awful to watch; insists on holding the bat like he is playing baseball. He can golf one out there, though. Are you good at cricket then?”

Theo lets the boy prattle on about his boyish interests. Then holds a mirror up so John can see his face. “I recommend looking at it in natural daylight, so that you know the shade is right for you.”

“That picture over there,” John points to the bookshelf by the door. “Who is that?”

There is only one picture on the shelf, and Theo put it there. Jeremy is not the sort to display pictures; that’s what phones were made for. “That’s Jeremy’s baby.”

“He has a baby?”

“His ‘Rents are watching her in America. Now hold still, I think we are going to go for plum.” Theo applies the brush to John’s lips.

John concentrates on holding his mouth still and focuses on a spot between Theo’s eye and ear. Young men, in John’s experience, are like Pudgee Funk, still living with their parents, or Tayo, mostly couch surfing about the neighborhood just as John’s own father seems to do. The incidental babies of manhood are women’s responsibilities. Boys like ten-year-old Henry in Gray’s Farm are raised by grandmum. “Is that his girlfriend’s dress?”

“Honey, that’s my dress.”

While John is digesting this twist, Jeremy comes in from the door that leads out to the small courtyard facing the slope up to Shirley Heights. He glances at the tableau of Theo and John together on the wicker couch. The abandoned beer is still on the kitchenette counter. He does not know what to do with John, so he is relieved that Theo has been dealing with the boy. They make an interesting pair; Theo, handsome always, his strength apparent in each graceful gesture, John still lingering in childhood, but apparently so self-sufficient. John serviced the winch with the same focus as Theo applies eyeliner.

John’s eyes keep shifting to where Jeremy leans against the counter. Not the ideal model, Theo thinks in amusement. “What I love about these pencils is that you don’t have to be too neat with them – apply a rough line along the lash line, then blend and push the product in with your finger.”

John wants Jeremy to say something. “I promise I’ll return it,” he repeats.

Jeremy’s smile is fleeting reassurance. “We all screw up ,,, We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Jeremy puts down the empty glass and steps to the table. He adds his clothes to John’s pile and walks to the shower without comment.

“Now what do you think of that?” Theo holds up the mirror. John scrunches up his face in disapproval. Well, makeup is not for everyone! Jeremy now, I can transform his butch attitude with a few brush strokes. “Well, I’m not none yet, am I?” Theo sweeps over to the cupboards by the bed and returns with his carnival makeup kit. “You should have seen me Independence Day, Fuck them, I said!” Then Theo recalls he is talking to a little boy.

The result of further application is sort of tribal, vaguely Black Panther, with three lines of white spots marching across John’s round cheeks, and judicious lines on the boy’s nose and forehead. John smiles at the transformation.

“Do you know how to make paper claws?” There was a night when Theo and Jeremy played Wolverine and Black Widow. John nods his head vigorously. “You’ll have to teach me. I’m just going to talk to Jeremy for a sec. You look maad, John.”

John looks at his facemask once again, then moves to the table where his Galaxy lies beside his clothes. He takes a selfie. His mother has left some messages. Despite her disapproval, she is liking this phone connection too much. He supposes it is reassuring that she harasses him when he stays in English Harbour, but she will keep at it till he answers her. John sends a quick message that he is still at schoolmate Marcus’ house.

“He is desperate for you to talk to him,” Theo reproves Jeremy.

“I will,” Jeremy evades. The situation is too unexpected. The boy comes and goes like every casual acquaintance in the marina. There is nothing more between them than there is between the old Swede. Jeremy helps Gustavus trouble shoot his fuel line, the man has an eye on empty Gravity. Liveaboards are KOA friendly-helpful in their nomadic wandering. Ships in the night, Jeremy assumes. Not always trustworthy, he learned that long before John stole from him. The kid’s so cute and clever, Jeremy was fooled. Theo is still leaning on the sink, perhaps impatient, perhaps simply appreciating the view. “I’ll talk to him,” Jeremy assures his boyfriend.

Theo has vanished with a load of laundry when Jeremy comes out. John is at the table. His chin is on his folded arms as he watches something on the phone Jeremy gave him. Theo’s makeover lends the boy a feral aura. Street kids are probably all around Jeremy, but the boy’s school uniform put that thought off. Jeremy sits beside John, conscious of the boy’s determined attention on the little screen.

It is just the new TikTok thing, one clip after another. When Jeremy laughs at a cat flying around in the air to Mr. Sandman, the boy finally looks at him. With John’s attention gained, Jeremy picks up the stolen padlock key. John bites his lip, but his liquid brown eyes stay fixed on Jeremy. “So, you’ve been crashing in Gravity. Thank you for keeping it clean. Do you want to tell me why?”

John sucks on his lip. It is not hard finding places to sleep at night. He does not have to resort to a nest in the brush. From Falmouth Town to English Harbour Town, there are no end of choices. How can he explain that there is something deeply comforting to have a real room to stay in. He barely knows his young American. The facts he learned tonight will take a while to digest. He has seen Pudgee Funk slap his girls, just because the blood is in him. Tayo torments Trini all the time. John was allowed to watch as Trini joined the other boys in beating Tray into Pudgee’s gang. Jeremy is so different. John cannot believe his young American could take a gun and shove it into someone’s face.

John turns back to the little screen. A toilet paper roll is determinedly rolling its way from the grocery store off to some bathroom. It arrives in the bathroom empty, having rolled too far to the sounds of an accordion and gently crooning French man. Sometimes, John feels the heaviness of it, sometimes his life feels like trying to dog paddle across English Harbour and the water just keeps getting in his mouth, reminding him that he is going to drown. John told Pudgee Funk he was done with the gang. He meant it that night, but when he comes back to the two harbors, he is still scouting out good places to break into. He keeps on swimming towards the bright lights surrounding the Carter family in Gray’s Farm..

This is all too complicated for John to put in words, just like it is not a conscious knowledge that neither Pudgee Funk nor Tayo would ever jump into the water to see that he was safe. John can only suck his painted lip and let Jazzie’s tough exterior slide away before his young American.

“Just stop by and tell me if you need a place to stay, I’d appreciate that,” Jeremy tells John.

“Permission to come aboard,” John suggests.

“Exactly.”

John nods his head, sighs, and his breath catches for a heartbeat. The brown eyes slide Jeremy’s way, then hide in the shifting images of the Galaxy.

You have a daughter, Jeremy reminds himself. It is not a completely abstract responsibility to Jeremy. He is a teenager, and parenthood is a heavy load he does not want. John is someone else’s baby. This responsibility is not on him. Pay it forward, his sailing partner Mary Rule told him firmly when he worried she had done too much for him. But Jeremy cannot be there for this boy all the time. He has to be there for himself.

Jeremy helps John to wash his face with Theo’s cleansing products, because his boyfriend will be outraged if the stained wicker couch gets makeup smeared on it. There is a pillow from the bed and an extra sheet. John lies in the comfort-companionship of Da Nang, watching the two teenagers settle into the bed beneath the mosquito net.

Theo and Jeremy are young, the interrupted play is still between them. It is a banked fire easily inflamed. They are adolescent-confident-deluded that if they are quiet, Jeremy can slip Theo’s briefs down his thighs. Jeremy gropes for a condom, because he was stupid with Shari in Jolly Harbour. He won’t be stupid now. Until his HIV test results come back, there is this thing between the boyfriends. Knowing what their coupling can become, the youths imagine they are Ninja-silent as their innocent guest sleeps on the wicker couch.

John hears the sexing from the bed. It is no different than the nights he used to sleep on the daybed and hear his mother with a boyfriend. Jeremy and Theo are very quiet, but bodies have to move and the bed is old. There is no judgement in his listening. His world is more fluid than old people. The internet is full of things like this. His sisters watch the pretend-sex on television. John’s body is at the door to this, but not yet. He cannot even deconstruct the  actions that accompany these noises that he hears. It is just an impression of strength meeting strength, and a body-knowing that this sort of coupling will come to him someday.

Jeremy kisses the side of Theo’s head, then withdraws. He checks the sleeping boy. Then turns back to kiss Theo’s upturned face. His lips nibble at his boyfriend’s chin, then neck, then nipples. He journeys down to farther.

From where he lies, John can see the bodies still moving together on the bed. He can hear the audible giggles and sharp intakes of breath, the whispers from Theo. When the friends are done, they slip naked from the bed. John watches them tiptoe to the bathroom, thinks about the way one touches the other as they stop to kiss by the bathroom door.

A pesky insect bothers John. When the friends are settled back into the bed, John sneaks under the mosquito net to stretch out between their feet. Someone takes a moment to tickle his toes before they all drift off.

We Breda, Yeah?

Tayo follows Jazzie down the street. They are not far from his room. The boy is too smart, maybe still playing eyes and ears for Pudgee Funk. Too coincidental, Jazzie stopped in the electronics store right below Tayo’s brand new crib. It is a long way from Gray’s Farm for a boy to shop with money he should not have.

His mark is headbanging to some music on a set of new headphones. Jazzie jumps off the sidewalk, pauses on some beat, and then the boy’s legs are butterflying. Jazzie does a knee dab before returning to the sidewalk. The boy is all Saturday Night Fever on the sidewalk. Maybe that brownie queen Trini, let something drop (besides his pants) to one of the other young bredas. It would not take much, and then Pudgee gets all interested in Tayo’s downtown business.

Jazzie has been playing it like a tourist, checking retail. A cart of toys catches his attention for a while. The boy might be doing nothing. He has done nothing for the two men since he bailed on them in English Harbour Town. Now Tayo sees he has a new phone to jack into his new headphones. Jazzie skips across the street and hops up the steps to East Town Roti.

Tayo keeps to his side of the street. He leans against a Caribbean Art Nuevo across from the restaurant. Jumping out of Pudgee Funk’s Black Hoods sets a bad example. It is Pudgee and Tayo who decide who comes or goes. The boys won’t be a gang if one boy gets to flip the men off on the street. It has been two weeks since they left the boy screaming on the road. They expected Jazzie to come by Pudgee’s house. The boy did not return contrite. The boy did not return.

Jazzie must have settled there, Tayo frowns. East Town Roti is yellow and green clapboard with a popular beer garden off one side. Tayo crosses over and goes through the double doors. He sees the woman, pretty in peach, behind the counter. The scattering of tables are empty. Tayo reads the whiteboard menu, as if he is considering.

Tayo sweeps his eyes across the bright green picnic tables under the beer garden roof; people talking over plates and flower arrangements. At the far end, up against the concrete water tank, Jazzie is sitting by himself.

John is absorbed in his phone beside the plate, feeding fries into his mouth, when Tayo snatches it away. John hides his consternation with a slow sip of Ting. He walked across St. John’s just to find this solitude. You might say Tayo was the last man he wanted to encounter. He drops his brand new Bluetooth headphones down around his neck.

“Ah wha g’won, Tayo? John is Jazzie, man-to-man.

“Me yah,” Tayo replies. He leans forward over the picnic table, the phone taps lightly on the table, just so the boy understands it has not been forgotten. “Ah wah you a do up ya de so?”

John is here for guest WIFI and the food. He gestures to the plates before him, “I’m eating.”

Tayo takes a mouthful of Jazzie’s fries. “Eh tase good, he takes the boy’s paper napkin and wipes his fingers. “Pudgee Funk been waiting on you.” Tayo takes more fries, then washes them down with Jazzie’s soda.

“Me nah min wahn fu see he,” the boy shrugs. There is a significant pause. “I’ve got nothing to say to Pudgee or you. Just doing my thing, Tayo.”

“Jazzie, Jazzie, why you being like that? We just had a family fight, a little difference of opinion. We bredas, yeah?” Tayo flashes the backhand bunny ears that is the men’s gang sign.

“Pudgee said I was too little to be beat in,” John points out. “I told Pudgee Funk I was no soldier in his army. You’re his general, you know that.”

“You the likkle breda. You the gold standard for little bredas like Henry.”

“You have Henry running for you now?” John is surprised.

“Boy wants to follow you. Pudgee Funk, he’s going to call you Napoleon. You the little general.”

Tayo cannot decide if this bit of flattery works on the clever boy. It is true Henry wants to follow Jazzie in. Tayo shifts his strategy. “Looks like you are playing Pudgee Funk and your bro Tayo. Yeah, Jazzie is doing his own thing.” He draws Jazzie’s order across the table. “Pork Roti, $20.00; this big plate of fries, $11.00. You planning to grow Pudgee now?” Jazzie does not blink when Tayo makes a thing of sampling the roti. “Now I see why you throw away Pudgee’s mum’s old iPhone. You found yourself this sell off phone. Now, I wonder how a schoolboy gets himself a phone like this?”

John has no answer to this. If he tells Tayo he got it from his American friend, then Pudgee Funk decides Jeremy Gates needs to pay property tax. Say nothing, and Tayo knows Jazzie keeps things for himself. It does not matter that the older boys have not beaten him into the Black Hoods. John knows the gang rules. He will not let his young voice quiver out the answer.

The Galaxy is limp between Tayo’s fingers, as if it is a business card, he offers it to John. John takes his phone back. “Didn’t come from Black Hood business. I look and pass it on, you and your crew go in and take. I’m always hands off,” John lifts his empty palms. “Just having lunch,” he draws his plates back with vast indifference to Tayo’s legitimate suspicions. “Good phone comes my way to replace a piece of shit, that’s my business.” He points his fork at the man. “You got your business, I’ve got mine.”

Tayo likes the boy’s brass. He likes that Jazzie keeps his eyes on Tayo. The boy mimics him all the time. Tayo is arms folded on the picnic table, Jazzie matches him. Tayo grins at the boy. “You gonna let me put my hand down your sweats so I can feel those big balls you’ve got there? You still shy of twelve? I got to love it though— someone speaking the tune.” Tayo winds up.

“You too small to pack away this much. Skinny little mother fucker, like I was; shows you are a faasti harbor shark.” Tayo’s face takes on a hardness. “You got your business, I got mine; true that. Pudgee Funk though, he’s not gonna like a sanfi making him a poppy show.

John eats a bit to give himself some space. People always want to be better than they are. Tayo wants to rap like an American; sprinkles Jamaican slang into his sentences. John has met a real Jamaican who sounds like London. John’s mum wants him to speak the Queen’s English too, when he is just a boy from Gray’s Farm. Everyone trying to be someone better; John wonders if he has ever heard Jeremy Gates’ real voice. Theo and Jeremy have been straight with John, maybe Tayo will be too.

“So what is Pudgee Funk looking for?” John bites his roti, like the answer does not matter.

“What the brother always wants from you.”

John lifts the green and yellow bottle, takes a taste of grapefruit soda. “You know how to turn your Bluetooth on?” John picks up his Galaxy and pairs it with Tayo’s phone.

“Mr. Radio Shack,” Tayo smiles.

John shares his top tens with Tayo, passing pictures and addresses. Two places he has already plundered. John goes for cash and food he can bring home to Chloe. Things that will blend in to what his mother buys. Tayo asks his questions, John fills him in. He leaves the best for last. “Don’t know if you can find a way to move diving gear.”

“I know some ways,” Tayo assures the boy. “Pudgee is going to think you’ve done real well here. He checks the pictures on his phone. Then he checks his message alert. His friend working at the cruise port has another pale-bellied fish on the line. Friend, friend of a friend, friend’s friend of a friend; Tayo does not care how long this telegraph line is. He does not really understand where the hook digs in. Tayo supplies the Trin-bait, the friends are the line, and Tayo holds the net. Best part, this is almost legal! Tayo takes a moment to pass the details on to Trini while Jazzie watches.

Tayo turns his attention back to the problem of Jazzie. He waves his phone. “We all got business to take care of. This phone and the extra money you have in your pocket; well, what you do on your time, that’s going to stay between us.” Tayo holds out his fist. After a consideration of the implications, Jazzie bumps back. “Just like you don’t go yapping to Pudgee about my extra business down here by the wharfs.”

“You got extra business?”

“Sheee-IT man! You think I spend all day sitting on my couch doing nothing?” This generates an awkward pause. Tayo and John both reach for a fry to keep their mouths shut. John takes a second fry, pauses pointing it at Tayo, thinks better of his next words, and stuffs the fry in his mouth. “I’m a grinder like you. Fact is, you impress me little man.”

Fact is, Tayo is still not sure if Pudgee Funk did not send Jazzie off to look for him. The boy picks the electronic shop directly below Tayo’s room. The boy sniffs things out. Fact is, Pudgee Funk can slap the badass Black Hoods on the boys in the hood, but the neighborhood gang is still baby cobras swimming in the shallow end. Tayo knows that if the island’s barracudas’ eyes twitch their way, things for Nelson Bird and Tayo Joseph will get ugly real fast. Facts are, Tayo can’t be drinking smoothies on the steps, all new to the neighborhood; puts a big old question mark glowing over his head.

“I’ve got a proposition for you; call it a job offer.”

Jazzie gets all bugeye-little-boy. “You’ve got your brothers to do your dutty. I just look and listen. I’m Wikipedia, a true.” He takes a fry and cocks his head, all puzzled.

“You so full of shit, John Carter,” Tayo shakes his head. “I’m not asking you to BnE. An’ you too small to break a blood’s kneecap.”

“I know how I’d do it.”

“Tap lie.”

“A true!” Just to add to John’s confusion about Theo Clarke, the young man showed John his telescoping police baton. A girl has to know how to protect herself against the Jimmies, Theo advised him. You could see why Jeremy likes Theo.

“I just need eyes and ears on my new crib sometimes. I’m looking for an answering service. You’re my Mumbai, little brother, nothing more.”

“Don’t know,” John is not sticking his hand in some bear trap for Tayo.

“Chill, bro; I thought you had balls in that little pouch. Trini is off the BnE for now. He’s doing a bit of something on the side just down the street. Nothing anybody needs to look at back in Gray’s Farm. The brother needs someone he can trust to watch his back. This is strictly legal, Jazzie; just private.”

Tayo proceeds to lay out the system for John: call comes to Tayo from the cruise ship, message passes to Trini, and Tayo sees it happens with no problems, then collects his share.

“So, Trini is going to prostitute like his mum?”

“—and I give him a place to do it.” Tayo nods.

“Who’s gonna want that skinny boy’s— oh yeah,” John answers for himself. Prostitution is legal in Antigua and Barbuda. Trini is too young, but yeah, done quietly, the police won’t raise a stink. Tourist money for sexing. Nothing anybody should look at, just another no-see-um at the corner of the eye. “Out of the neighborhood, somebody will want a share. What’s in it for me to pimp for you?”

They bargain out a percentage of Tayo’s share.

“I don’t have a contract; can’t do the job off restaurant WIFI. Think I’m going to spend my days parked here like an Uber driver waiting for you to message me? Trini maybe needs that backup, and then what? I go running down here so I can call you?”

“Boy, a SIM card is only going to cost you $50.00,” Tayo can see where this is going. He hides his smile. It is a pleasure doing business with Jazzie. They settle the SIM card problem over the last scraps on Jazzie’s lunch plate, then walk back to the electronics store to get the Galaxy set up. “You got everyone by the wood, don’t you Jazzie?”

“Just getting by, same as everyone else.” John looks at Tayo shrewdly, “How did you talk Trini into being your hoe?”

“Let’s just say I know his inclination. His mum, my mum, they just people doing honest work.” Tayo nudges John, “More honest than break and enter. Just so you know, I don’t have time for bucket battybwoys making eyes at me.” They pause outside the store. “This stays between the three of us.”

“I know this is between us. Folk in Gray’s Farm have their own business. You know gossip never did me any good. Trini has no reason to worry I’ll be throwing shade on his business. It’s 2019, Tayo. I’ve decided it doesn’t bother me what goes on in someone’s bed.”

Dream Chasers

John has checked out the venders on the street below Tayo’s room. They are checking him out. A boy picking through their things makes them nervous. John never expects respect. Their faces say move on, even if he tries a smile. The store across the street from Tayo’s walk up is shuttered; no telling what it sold. Just over the crosswalk there is a department store. John needs a black shirt. Quality Sportswear, another place John wants to go into. Tayo’s room is an easy walk from Heritage Wharf and there are so many shops.

John sips his smoothie and circles the pole, fingers feeling it’s roughness. Step off the curb, on the street, up onto the curb, repeat. John goes round and round, watching the people pass, thinking about the shops. Girl and a boy, sister and brother on the corner. The girl is eye-catching, about his age, thin like Chloe and tall. All the girls John’s age are taller than he is. Height might come when he is Trini’s age. She looks his way, so John’s eyes stay glued on her till his feet take him off the street and back on the curb. The pair are still there when he circles back. She is fair like Jeremy. John sucks his smoothie and lets the music in his headphones turn this into a movie moment. She looks back at John as he swings around again. He lets go of the pole and walks into traffic.

At the doorway to the electronics shop, John pulls out his phone. Tayo never said how long he would have to wait. Maybe an hour, Tayo guessed. He stops to look at the table set up on the street. There is nothing interesting there. The concrete steps up to the first floor are shaded. John goes halfway up, then sits. There is a wasteland garden beside Tayo’s building. Not really an empty lot, the neighboring building has doors and balconies that open onto it.

John pushes his headphones off and stops his music. The beautiful outsider girl just looked at him with that girl-look that still baffles John. He goes to Messenger.

There is a message from his mother. She is going to close the gas station tonight, and be home after bedtime. John should be home helping Chloe. She likes this phone too much, John sighs, mums! Susan Carter works the extra hours when she can, but now that John is older, he realizes that ‘close the gas station’ might mean his mother is stopping at the bar. She has a Haitian boyfriend. Ulvick Sifrien was in the Dominican Republic under the fence cutting sugar cane. Overworked, exhausted, and destitute, he found his way to Antigua. Ulvick might be two-year-old Stephen’s father; Ulvick and Susan never say. John will come in from Papa Jack’s coupe and find this man, ten years younger than his father, eating his breakfast.

John looks at the closed door behind his back, and then turns to the street again. John knows sexing like he knows how to fly a plane, from looking and listening. This is less than what he knows about driving a scooter. Sitting behind Jeremy on the teen’s sixteen-year-old Zuma, John can feel the movement. He understands the way a body vibrates and leans into the turns, accelerations, and decelerations. Riding a scooter behind Jeremy involves your whole body, and because John is only eleven, leaning into Jeremy so he does not fall off. But John’s Android only lets him look and listen to sex if he finds the right websites.

Older boys, like Trini and Dray, will burst into nervous chatter about their doings. Not bragging, just cock measuring to reassure themselves. Pudgee Funk keeps secondary school girls close, always touching them. Tayo slouches with his legs apart, fingers stroking his privates, painting graphic pictures for the room of women he has had. Jeremy and Theo are just friends, like John used to be friends with Nathan. John is only eleven. He does not see the way two friends can spend a day together as if it was a scooter ride.

The door opens behind John. He does not look around. He waits for the man in baggy shorts to hurry past him. The hair on a tourist’s bare legs is very noticeable. This man is heavy, like Pudgee Funk. He is pasty like Jeremy’s bum when he got out of bed in the morning. The man turns back to look at John. He looks funny. Beneath his Tilly hat, his heavy jowls are blushed, but his icy eyes are two clown circles where his dark glasses usually rest.

“Which way is the harbor?” The man asks John. The answer is obvious. It is a handful of blocks and all down hill. John points anyway. Maybe sexing with Trini muddles the memory, John decides. He is only eleven, he is unaware of the silent leering between Jeremy and Theo as they move around each other, or the way this tourist man wants to piece together the mysteries beneath the fabric of John’s sweatpants.

John pushes through the door into Tayo’s room. There is room for the bed, a table with two plastic chairs, and some clear plastic drawers beside the bed. If Tayo has moved into this room, John sees little evidence of it. The room has a fart smell with sweaty-yeasty notes that melt into the humid mustiness of the old building. It is a bit like sitting in the back of Pudgee’s SUV with the windows rolled up for too long.

Trini is by the bed. He has a faded Calvin Klein shirt and a steel chain dangling a DC dog tag, DREAM CHASERS. The teenager is just the quiet boy who shadows Tayo’s movements even though the young man constantly talks him down. Trini has a smooth face, an ordinary face. Most faces ripple with their shifting emotions. Trini’s face looks anxious, mostly. It is a look that John cannot afford. As John looks at him, Trini has the look of a boy who gave the wrong answer in class.

“I’m going to the loo,” Trini tells John. The teen pulls on a pair of boxer briefs. He stoops by the bed and recovers a used condom. Rubbers are not a mystery to John. The boy sees them in the gutter here and there; dry and soiled like a spent birthday party balloon. This one hangs pendulous, like a drip of snot on the end of a nose. Condoms are intimidatingly man-sized.

John explores the room while Trini is down the hallway. The bed lies up against the window without a headboard. John tries it out. He imagines Trini's man sexing is just like Jeremy and Theo, something lingering and gentle, whispers and happy giggles. The table has some things that must be Tayo’s. The tourist man left cash on the table beside the familiar iPhone. The old iPhone must be Trini’s now. John picks it up.

“Tayo changed the battery. It’s good now. I want a new face,” Trini explains behind him.

John puts the iPhone down and sits beside the money. “Do you want the rest of my drink?” Trini takes the smoothie and sits on the bed. He tucks one foot under so the heavy adolescence stretches between his thighs. The anxiousness is back on the teen’s face as he takes a draw on the straw. John carefully divides the cash into two piles. “This is more than Tayo said there would be,” John pauses with the extra in his hands.

Trini points at the extra money with the cup. “That’s my tip. Tayo says that’s mine.” Trini bites his lip, then adds, “You can keep half of it okay?”

“Why would I take your money?” John asks. This is American money.

“Tayo says from now on, it’s better if you talk to me, pick up the money.” Trini tries to say the next part carefully, “My working, this is a secret, right?”

“Tayo’s business, well, your business, we don’t talk about it,” John agrees. He shrugs and the furrow on his brow conveys John’s confusion. Why should Trini worry about him talking?

“It’s just the teasing,” Trini shrinks a little on the bed.

John understands. Tayo can talk Trini down amongst the other boys, but who really knows. Trash talk is trash talk. A man always tells a boy he is not a man, shrinks the spirit. John puts Trini’s tip on Trini’s share. “It’s your money. You can keep it.” Money is always tempting, but John wants to be fair. He looks at the teenager on the bed. Theo would sit more proudly, John realizes. “Tayo says I should have your back. Nothing wrong with what you’re doing.” He thinks of his secret friendship with his young American. “Nobody needs to know what we don’t want them to know.

John pauses before continuing, “I don’t know about doing this when the next term starts. Are you going to school?” Trini shrugs equivocally. “Mum’s gonna make me do Form Two, probably down in Cobbs Cross. I can’t have your back if I’m off in English Harbour Town.”

Trini thinks about what John just said. Have your back; this is strange, coming from an eleven-year-old boy. Yet it is not strange. Jazzie always has the confidence that Trini thinks he lacks. Jazzie is like Tayo in that way. Knowing the boy is just down the hall, that’s reassuring to Trini. “I don’t work that much,” Trini shrugs. Thousands of tourists vomiting off the cruise ships; how does a person find the one who wants a boy like him? “I’m not that much,” the teen adds.

“Don’t talk yourself down. I wish you could meet—“ John stops himself. Theo needs to talk to Trini. “You look fine to me.” Jeremy would say it better.

“Tayo wants it this way, besides, we can set it up for after school, or you can come around later to pick up Tayo’s money; although he really wants you to be here when I am.” Trini understands the situation better than Jazzie. He looks at the two piles of money. Trini wishes it was Tayo in the seat across from him. He wishes it was Tayo in the bed each time. Trini knows Tayo better. Jazzie forgets that if he is eyes and ears between the distant harbors, Trini is eyes and ears in Gray’s Farm. Tayo and Pudgee want to know where Jazzie goes, when he comes back, they go to Trini. Tayo has his boys watching each other.

“We’ll see,” John answers. It is a long time till school term starts.

Trini pulls his Calvin Klein chain over his head and leans back. The chain and dog tag point right to his groin. “You sexed with anyone yet?” John feels the heat flood his face. The eternal taunt-challenge to a growing boy. “I can give you a blow job,” the teen offers confidently. Trini’s business would really be John’s business then. The offer makes John uncomfortable. They call them privates for a reason. “I guess you’re waiting for a girl.”

John is just waiting. Till then, he will keep whatever he does private. “I said there is nothing wrong with your business. I’m not some old preacher shaking my fist at people. I’m just eleven, Trini. Doesn’t matter what you are waiting for, as long as it is your choice when you stop waiting. Is this business what you want to do?”

“Tayo wants me to do it,” Trini shrugs. He knows he will do anything for the young man.

“Yeah, but do you want to do it?” John persists.

Trini has already considered this question. “I want to do what Tayo wants me to. Yes, Jazzie, I want to do it.” Trini is tired of waiting for Tayo.

“Okay then,” John shrugs, “You just be safe about it. Don’t be a fool like my dad, that’s all I’m saying. You get the HIV tests regularly, like I do.” That confession prompts another blush. He had not meant to get that personal.

“That’s what my mum says,” Trini agrees. It is impossible not to be seductive with this little Tayo substitute. Trini lays back and lifts a leg up on the bed. This stretches the fabric between his legs so it molds the cleft below his package. The men like this pose. Tayo would say something hurtful, making Trini want him more.

“We’re business partners, right?” Jazzie cocks his head at Trini’s question. “It’s just, my mum says she knows Wadadli men who might want to come by and see me.”

“That’s good,” Jazzie replies neutrally.

“Well, with Tayo wanting to be careful about who I see, and this being his place, him being careful about my business,” Trini just stops and stares at Jazzie. He decides to take a chance. “A man has to mind his own business.”

“I agree.”

“But, if I meet some of my mum’s men, Tayo is going to know. The neighborhood is going to know.”

“How’s he going to know your business?”

Trini points to the iPhone, then around the room. “Tayo checks my phone. I’ve got to meet them here. I don’t want to go home or somewhere else. Tayo stays here, comes and goes. I need a partner, Jazzie. I need someone to pass mum’s messages. You’re my friend, it would be normal if we messaged.”

“I suppose,” Jazzie answers.

“You can watch my back,” Trini finishes hopefully, “Just our business.”

That’s the way things work, John nods. We all have business to take care of. Side deals with each other, so a body can get by. “You could do well,” John agrees. “Long as Tayo and Pudgee Funk don’t hear of it. You can trust your mamma?” Trini nods, and then shrugs his shoulders.

“Okay then,” John studies the angles. “It’s a good idea, Trini. I can keep the Wadadli men and Cruise men straight, so there is no confusion coming or going. Just remember, I’m just your Mumbai, telling you what’s what. It’s got to be your say so if you work or not. I’m not your pimp.”

“But you’ll have my back?” Trini’s voice is tense. “I mean, stick around?”

“I’ll keep my eye out for Tayo, if that’s what you mean.”

“I like it when someone else is here. It feels safer.”

John thinks Trini needs to get a baton like Theo keeps in his bag. Trini needs to learn to whack a man who comes on like an angry bull. Not much an eleven-year-old boy can do about a man like the one who just stepped out.

“You’ll get half, like usual.”

“We’ll talk about it, Trini, see how things are working. I don’t see my part being worth half of what you earn. I’ll see you later.” John gets up and puts Tayo’s share of the money in his pocket.

“Jazzie, mum’s sending someone in half an hour.”

“Oh”