Chapter Seventeen

JJ opened the door, smiling as he tried to tamp down his nervous energy. "Hey," he said, acting all suave, until his damp hair got in his face, ruining his façade.

Travis smirked. "Just got out of the shower, huh?"

JJ nodded, his cheeks warming from embarrassment. "Yeah. I kind of forgot the time. Lost in thought, ya know?"

"You use your right or left hand for that?"

It took him a second to get what Travis was implying, and he groaned. "Come inside before my nosy neighbors get the wrong idea about us."

Half-smiling, half-scowling, Travis said, "And we wouldn't want that. Or do we?"    

JJ laughed and did his best Three Stooges impression. "Why I oughtta." He went to play slap Travis, who dodged and smacked JJ on the butt.

"Ouch!"

"Consider that the first of many to pay ya back. You gonna let me in or what?"

JJ tugged on his ear, lips pursed. "Umm, yeah. And . . . I'm sorry."

"You'll have to be more specific, considering you have years of atrocities for which to atone."

"For it all: the fight, bullying you, everything."

Travis gritted his teeth. "You expect me to grant you absolution because you've said you're sorry?"

JJ averted his eyes, heat creeping into his cheeks and ears as his anger and embarrassment soared. "That's how it works at church."

"Don't lie to me. I've been to confession; you must serve penance for your sins."

JJ's mouth hung agape. "You're Catholic?"

"I was an altar boy at St. Bart's until I gave up religion."

"I don't believe you." 

Travis recited the Lord's Prayer and a Hail Mary, both in Latin.

"You seriously were an altar boy?"

"No, I memorized that for gits and shiggles." He reached out and grabbed JJ's pendent. "Hmm, St. Jude. Patron saint of lost causes."

JJ's heart fluttered at being so close to Travis. "G-good eye."

"Easy-peasy. We made rhymes to help us remember all the saints. St. Antony, we come to thee on bended knees; help us find our keys. St. Jude, if you pray to him, you're worm food. I've forgotten the rest."

JJ giggled. 

"What's so funny?"

He looked at Travis and laughed again.

"Keep it up, mister chuckles, and see if you don't catch these hands again."

"I'm sorry, dude," he said between laughs, "but the thought of you in ceremonial vestments, carrying around a decanter is hilar AF."

 They entered the foyer, and JJ could have sworn he heard someone say, "Big old . . ."

He stopped and turned back to Travis. "You say something?"

Travis said, "Yeah. A place this big, you could kill a guy, and no one would hear it."

"That was morbid."

"Spoiler alert: life is morbid. But I bet it makes for great parties. Not that I'd be into that type of thing, mind you."

Shrugging, JJ replied, "I guess, but sometimes I feel like Jay Gatsby."

"The getting-shot-to-death part of the parties?"

Giovanni laughed. "You know, you're kind of funny. In a dark, twisted way, I mean. But yeah, dude. Ev'rybody and they mama be tryna get up in the cut."

Travis stopped. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Are you really that obtuse? Your attempt to build rapport with me by affecting African American Vernacular English is beyond repugnant."

"But I thought--"

"Because I'm a person of color, I talk like gutter tripe?"

"Dude, why you getting all butt-hurt?"

"One, I'm not your dude. Two, the only one getting butt-hurt around here will be you if you don't stop pissing me off."

JJ threw his hands up in frustration. "Jesus, Travis. All I did was try to talk on your level."

Though his industrial fan was cranked to the max, the temperature jumped, and JJ broke out in a sweat.

Travis took several deeps breaths and the temperature lowered.

Weird.

 Travis's sunglasses slipped down his nose, and he was quick to push them back up. But not before JJ caught the briefest flash of red.

He was about to ask Travis about it when Travis cut him off. "You, like most people, are so beneath me you might as well not exist."

"And just when I was starting to like you, ya become a giant dick again."

Smirking and then laughing, Travis said, "How cute. You think your opinion of me matters."

JJ groaned, no longer caring about Travis's eyes. "Let's do Dr. Dull's assignment, and then you can go."

"Fine with me, Joshua."

He made a sour face. "I hate it when people call me that."

"I surmised as much. Let's go. The sooner we finish, the sooner I won't have to pretend to like you."

"You're such an asshole."

Travis half-smirked, half-laughed. "And proud of it."

JJ stormed off, shouting over his shoulder, "Come on, you insufferable douche master general." 

Travis caught up to him. "Funny, I didn't think you knew any polysyllabic words, let alone how to use them correctly."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not the only one who can use big words. My room's up the stairs."

As Travis followed him, JJ explained that the floors were Italian marble, the staircases were lined with royal purple carpeting, and the works of the masters hung on the wall, which JJ told him weren't reproductions. 

"I have the whole floor to myself. It's massive, right?" he said when they got to the top of the stairs.

"Actually, my wing at Grams' estate is bigger."  

"I call BS. Who's this Grams, God?"

"Close. You'd know her better as Helena Ziglar-Aurum, widow of Marshall Aurum."

Folding his arms, JJ cocked his head to the side. "So, your grandmother is the richest person in the world?"

"Yep."

JJ's mouth hung agape. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Travis shrugged. "Yes. Her only daughter is Sarah Sophia Turner, née Aurum, my mother."

"So, you're mixed?"

He scowled. "The politically correct nomenclature is bi-racial, but yes." 

"Jesus, dude. What are you doing slumming it around here?"

"Because Opa, in his infinite stupidity, set up a trust fund for me that stipulated I must attend a preparatory school or the equivalent."

"I mean, then why aren't you like at Choate or something?"

"Because Mother and Father had the final say on which school I attended and decided AP Prep was the most suitable candidate because of my habitual absences due to illnesses and surgeries."

JJ hung his head. "Helena Aurum really is your grandmother."

Travis rolled his eyes, sighing. "Your reaction is common. Most people don't believe me until I show them pictures of us."

"Right, but why aren't you living it up with her? I mean, couldn't she hire you the best tutors money could buy?"

"Trust me, after you and your hooligan friends accosted me, I tried to get Mother to let me live with--"

"Hold up. You're over here sounding like Draco Malfoy with all this `Mother' business."

"You know what? You don't get to hear any more about me." He turned, but JJ grabbed his arm. "If you value your life, let me go."

"Hold up. I didn't mean to offend you. I was just trying to be funny. I'm sorry, okay?"

"You seem to be saying that a lot. But as I told you, they're mere words." He pulled his hand away.

JJ's frustration boiled over, and he unloaded on Travis. "For fuck's sake, can't you be nice to me for one second?"

"I'm only returning all the anguish you and your friends dealt to me over the years."

"But, what if we were to start over and try like being friends?"

Travis scoffed. "I don't need or want friends. All attachments are wastes of time and energy."

"You can't mean that. Everyone needs people in their life."

Travis ignored him and found his way to JJ's bedroom, stopping in the doorway. 

"You're saying you don't care about anyone?"

"Let it go, Giovanni."

He folded his arms and shook his head. "Not until you answer my question."

"If it will hurry things, then aside from Grams and Jenny, a nurse who's taken care of me since I was a kid, I don't care about anyone. Familiarity breeds dependence and dependence upon anyone for anything is a weakness I will not abide."

"That's messed up."

"You say that like it matters what you think of me."

This dickwad. "Screw you. Let's get started already. Name, birthday, and family members."

"My full name is Travis Marshall Percy-Newton Turner, eldest son of Sarah Sophia and Sampson Eli Turner. My brother Robert `Bobby' Seale Turner and sister Amber Kathleen-Cleaver Turner are twins and are a year-and-a-half younger than me. I was born on September 8, 2004, at 10:00 am. Your turn."

  "What did you mean when you said all emotions are pointless? How can that be when emotions are responsible for music, art, literature, and video games?"

He pursed his lips, his expression pensive. "I meant that emotions are pointless because they cloud rational thought and prevent people from seeing the larger picture. Was that easy enough for you to understand?"

JJ glared. "Don't be a troll."

"I was asking per your previous comments."

He nodded. "Yeah, I understood all that, but come on, Travis. You mean to say you don't love anyone?"

"There are different types of love--familial, platonic, romantic, sexual. To which are you referring?" 

JJ's face fell. There were so many things he wanted to ask Travis, but he didn't yet know how to express himself without sounding like a fool or giving away his feelings. He made his way over to his desk and removed a chocolate bar from it, munching on it as he thought. Finally, he said, "What about romance?" 

"Didn't your mother tell you not to talk with your mouth full? As for that, it's a cosmic joke, an evolutionary trick of chemicals to compel the species to procreate, nothing more." 

Wiping his mouth, JJ furrowed his brow, frowning. "Pardon me for saying this, but that's a load of crap. Why so serious?" 

Travis laughed darkly. "The world is ten pounds of crap in a two-pound bag."

"Yeah, but friends, family, lovers . . . they make things a whole lot less shitty."

"You would think that. You're one of them."

JJ cocked his head to the side. "One of who?"

"First, that's, `one of whom?'. Second, I mean the beautiful people."

"Hey, just cuz I'm totes cute doesn't mean I don't have problems."

Scoffing, Travis steepled his fingers. "And what pray tell could those be? You live in a mansion, have tons of friends, and look like a model."

"Shows what you know. For starters, I'm short, ginger, barely see my parents, and when they are home, they're either on their phones or constantly telling me to do better. I just wish . . ."

Travis looked over at JJ. "Go on."

"Nothing. It's not important. You gonna stand in the doorway or come in?"

"Nope. I'm liable to catch the Bubonic Plague or Streptococcus Necrotizing Fasciitis, aka flesh-eating disease."

"My room's not that bad, but I understand if you're scared."

Travis flipped him off and made his way to JJ's bed. "As I've told you before, that's Turner to you."

Letting out a sigh, JJ's exasperation mounted by the second. "Fine. Have you ever played Never Have I Ever?"

"Nope."

"It's a drinking game where people take turns making `never have I ever' statements, and the others take a shot when it's something they've done. Understand?"

"I don't know about this. I've never drunken anything besides a few sips of champagne on New Year's."

JJ smiled. "I understand if you're too pussy to--"

"Get the alcohol!"

"Well, alright, alright, alright. I'll get the flavored vodka since it's your first time drinking and all."

"Go already," he said and tossed a throw pillow at JJ.

 

Author's Note: Next time, Travis and JJ play a little drinking game and grow a bit closer.

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