New Kid

Chapter Nine

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Keith pulled Jamie into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Brian was standing shocked, a couple of feet away.

“He didn’t do anything I didn’t make him do, do you understand me? If you say a fucking word about this, if you tell anyone that he was making a pass at me, I’ll kick your ass from here to Hell and back again. You got me?”

“You’re full of shit, Keith. I heard you two—fucking sweet nothings and all. Christ, man. I never thought that you would…You’d have been fucking right here if I hadn’t walked in.”

“Back off Jamie. I mean it. This has nothing to do with you. It’s none of your fucking business.”

“You fucked this kid and now he’s co-captain. That’s bullshit, man. You get yourself a piece of ass and—we fucking defended you, both of you, when the rumors started.” He was shaking his head. “Shit.”

“Look, Jamie. Come on, no one’s getting hurt. It’s not like you think…”

“It’s exactly what I think.” He paused. “We’ve been friends how long? Forever? How come I never knew? Huh? How come you never got around to telling me that you like little boys?”

Brian found his voice. “It wasn’t Keith. I was the one who started it. I told him I’d suck him off if I made the team. Same thing for first string.”

“Nice try, Junior, but you didn’t make All-State by sucking dick. We all saw you out there this season and you didn’t get there by letting anyone buttfuck you.”

“That’s why I made the team. You’re right about that. OK. It’s true. I asked him to let me eat him and he…”

“Shut the fuck up, Brian. Just fucking stop.”

“Tell him the fucking truth, Keith—it was my idea. I told you that my parents would be pissed if I didn’t make Varsity at my new school so I found out who the captain was and I followed you and then I made you the offer…”

“Fucking liar.”

“That’s what happened, Jamie. It was me. He didn’t even agree until I asked him at least seven or eight times then I told him if he said anything I’d tell. I swear to God.”

Jamie looked at the two of them. Keith was his friend. He wanted to believe what the Goddamned little queer had just said. It made sense. It was the obvious explanation. “Shit, Keith. I thought we were friends. If this little shit was blackmailing you, all you had to do was say something. You know it wouldn’t have gone any farther than Wilkins. Now the team is stuck with the faggot for three years.” He heard the sound of a glass or maybe a beer bottle breaking downstairs and turned to investigate, but first addressed Brian. “You get the fuck out of my house and stay the Hell away from me til the end of the school. You get me, fag?” He stared at Keith. “He comes near you again, you tell me, right, Keith?”

“Jamie? You going to say anything?”

“And let people know this fucking fairy blackmailed you, that he made a chump out of you? Shit, no.” A last look at Brian, “I’m not saying anything, but I hear one Goddamned thing about you pulling this crap next year—and I will hear, asshole—you’re not going to have anything left to buttfuck with—you got me?”

Brian just gave him a steady look then a small single nod before he left.

“Damnit, Brian. I told you to just shut up.” Keith was angry—at getting caught, at Brian for lying to protect him, at Jamie for walking in—he was mad at fucking everyone and everything and Brian was standing in front of him, the easiest target. “By Monday morning this will be all over the Goddamned school.”

“Keith, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just tell everyone that I made you, that I kept at you until you agreed and then I blackmailed you, like Jamie said. You’ll be fine.”

“You fucking twat. You really don’t get this, so you? School is out in a week. It doesn’t matter if you blackmailed me or not—all anyone is going to remember is that I’m queer and now thanks to you, the whole fucking town is going to know.”

Brian was stunned—they wouldn’t know. Jamie would tell everyone that Brian was the aggressor, that he was the shit, that he was the faggot. “No—Keith, it’ll be alright. We can…we can just stay apart until graduation and then be careful over the summer and it will be OK. No one will know.”

“You are so fucking stupid, Brian—a fucking moron. You stay away from me. Don’t call me, don’t come near me, and don’t come over to the house. I don’t want to see you; I don’t want to know you. You’re fucking dead.” He had his jacket on. “I’m going home. You stay here and talk to the boys—maybe you can chose a new playmate while you’re making the rounds.”

“I thought—you said that we’d spend the weekend together. I thought that…”

“Hitch a Goddamned ride home, asshole. And don’t call me.”

Brian ran after him, but he was already starting his car by the time he got out to the street and was knocking on the driver’s side window. Keith gave him a filthy look and put the car in gear, leaving Brian standing in the street.

An hour later, having avoided Jamie, he got a ride home with Steve Delchamps. Thanking him, he didn’t go into his house but walked down five blocks and over one to Mikey’s house. Using the key he knew was under the plant, he let himself in and quietly made it up to his friend’s bed. Stripping, he crawled in and cried while Mickey held him, neither of them saying anything.

Brian went home later that day, it was now Sunday and his mother was at noon Mass. His father was drinking with his friends and who gave a fuck where Claire was.

Taking a deep breath he called Keith’s number.

“Hello?”

“Keith, can I talk to you?”

“I told you to fuck off.” The connection was broken.

He redialed. “Keith? Please talk to me. Please. Can I see you? Kei…” He heard the receiver click down.

He tried once more.

“Keith, please.” His voice was cracking with tears.

“If I talk to you now, will you leave me alone and after this?”

“Yes. I promise.” Anything, just talk to me, please.

“We had some fun and now it’s not fun anymore. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

“…But you said that you loved me.” He was crying.

“How else was I going to get into your pants?”

Brian wiped at his nose where it was dripping. “…But I love you…”

“With your crappy family? You don’t know what that means. Don’t call me again.” The line went dead.

He just sat on his bed.

Keith loved him. Keith had told him that he loved him and they had made love and been friends and they had made plans about how they would see each other all summer and over vacations and then he would go to a school near wherever Keith was after he got out of high school in three years and they would get an apartment together and they would be able to live together and it would be perfect and they would be both be happy.

He had promised.

Just last night, up to Jamie walking in, everything had been good and it had all fallen to shit.

That was it.

Keith was ashamed of him. He was embarrassed to be seen with him. It wasn’t just the gay thing—it was him. Keith was ashamed to be seen with him—he was just a freshman and his family was shitty and they didn’t have any money. That was it. Keith had played with him until someone found out and then he stopped playing because he knew what people would say if they knew he was with crappy, drecky Brian Kinney.

Jamie was right. He’d only made the team because Keith had said something to Wilkins; he had seen him as a possible boy toy for the season and had put in some word that had gotten him on the team.

Being made co-captain as just a payoff for the fun they’d had together. That was all it was.

But Keith had said that he loved him.

He had held him at night and he had told him all kinds of things and they had touched each other and Keith had said that he loved him and Brian had loved him back.

They had kissed and made love and Keith’s family had been nice to him and he had thought that he had finally found someone who didn’t think he was completely worthless.

He was wrong.

Keith was just jerking him off. He was just a fuck. Keith was right. He was nothing and he didn’t know what love was because there was no such thing.

He heard the front door open and close as someone came in. Listening, he heard his mother go into the kitchen. She would probably pour some wine and start on her daily bottle now that church was over.

It was a Sunday tradition. She would go to Mass then come home and get drunk.

A couple of hours later he heard his father come in and begin calling for him. Saying something about the lawn. Shit. He was supposed to mow the fucking grass today and had forgotten.

The heavy footsteps came up the stairs, his door opened. His father was about to start his tirade when he saw his son’s tear streaked face.

“You were supposed to cut the grass and instead you’re sitting here crying like some fucking pansy? What the Hell’s the matter with you?”

Brian wasn’t up to dealing with this right now and silently asked his father to go away.

“I asked you a question, Sonnyboy. What the fuck are you sniveling about?”

Still nothing.

“I ask you a question, you answer me, boy. You want to cry? I’ll give you something to fucking cry about.” He dragged the belt from his waist.

Brian didn’t even move when the belt started hitting him. It would stop soon enough, it usually did and this time he didn’t care.

The next day at school Brian passed Keith in the hallways with neither one acknowledging the other. If Keith wondered why Brian was wearing long sleeves when it was eighty degrees, he didn’t ask and if he saw the welts on Brian’s neck, he didn’t say anything about them either.

That week Brian accepted the congratulations of the other students who had heard that he was named co of the soccer team and he turned in his final assignments and took his finals.

He spent time with Michael again and they went to the diner after school like they had before. He was quiet and Debbie knew he was upset about something and Vic tried to draw him out, but he avoided answering their questions.

His father left him alone after the last beating, at least for a while, so that was good.

He and Keith didn’t have a single conversation again before Keith left for the University of Southern California. They never spoke, they didn’t call. When Keith was home on vacation, he didn’t contact Brian who had begun to have sex with anyone who showed interest.

On weekend nights he could be found on Liberty Avenue, though he made some effort to be careful and was lucky in his choices. He didn’t get sick and he didn’t get beaten or raped, though he did have some close calls.

He and Michael became close, though Brian never told him what had really happened.

He co-captained the soccer team and in his junior year was named captain, as he was with the track team. Both teams won the State Championships in his senior year and he was given no small part of the credit.

The gay rumors continued, but after he broke the footballer’s hand, no one bothered him.

When he was fifteen he was admitted to University Hospital with two broken ribs and other contusions. Doctor White happened to be on call and asked what had happened. He claimed to have tripped over an untied shoelace and fallen down the stairs.

When the doctor told him he didn’t believe him, Brian shut down completely and refused to answer any questions put to him by the doctors, police or the social workers.

When Dr. White told him that he was always welcomed at his home if he needed a place, he politely thanked him and told the man that he would be fine. He was fine, it would be alright.

He didn’t ask about Keith.

He went to Penn State on scholarship and was hired by Ryder. He was made a partner at Vanguard.

He never admitted to another person, other than to Mikey and his infant son, and then only in private, that he loved them.

No one else ever heard him say those words.

One Wednesday morning shortly after his thirtieth first birthday he stood to welcome a new potential client to his office for an initial meeting and idea session to have Cynthia introduce the man.

“Brian? This is Keith White, head of Multitech.”

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