Chapter 03
The sound of water running finally made him open his eyes. At first there really wasn’t anything for him to see because he had the sleeping bag pulled over his face. Carefully he moved his arm up and pushed aside the tartan coloured cover to look out at the room.
It was bathed in a bright glare from the sun and he couldn’t be certain if it was the morning sun or the afternoon one. His eyes were having a little trouble focusing which was normal for him but slowly he began to figure out just where he was. The running water made him squeeze his legs together as he needed to take a pee bad but obviously someone was using the bathroom. He thought he could wait as he tried to wake up and focus.
The pounding around his temples seemed to grow too as his eyes became accustomed to the light. He pushed his thin body up on the couch and took in his surroundings. It was hard for him to wake up these days and he knew that it was time for him to get real once more about his drinking. He sighed a little as he stared at the coffee table and saw the empty bottle of Bourbon that rested on top along with a glass that had a small slug of the harsh liquid still inside.
Looking around the room he saw that it wasn’t particularly filled with much. There was a small television off to one side, the couch he was on and two faded and older style arm chairs with a table between them. A lamp rested on the far end of the table between the chairs and that was pretty well it. On the walls he saw a small painting of a Shepard and some sheep in a lush green pasture or field. The smaller wall held a simple wooden crucifix and Rob stared at it for a few seconds, wondering if God had had enough of him yet.
His stomach ached from all the alcohol he had drunk last night and the night before that and the night before that one too. Still the only real effect was that he had this splitting headache starting and he felt tired, almost worn out really but he also felt the strange urge to have a small pick me up. He looked down at the nearly emptied glass that rested near him and his arm moved slowly from on top of his stomach to reach out for the glass.
As it moved he saw how thin and white it was. Rob looked at his thin hand, saw the veins sticking out from the top making white ridges on his hand. His long tapered fingers were extended towards the glass but he noticed the tremor in them as his hand moved towards the table and the glass. His mind recoiled at the shaking fingers and hand that was almost like a blur to his still unfocused eyes. The shaking made him stop and he just leaned up on the back of the sofa to stare blankly at his trembling hand.
It hadn’t always been like this he thought and his hand dropped down to rest against his leg that stuck out from under the sleeping bag. He saw the white flesh of his leg and wondered just what had happened last night. He peered under the bulky material to see that all he had on was his pair of dark Calvin Klein boxer shorts.
Panic entered his heart as he looked down at his body, seeing the flat washboard stomach curling inwards as he realized that other than his shorts he was naked. His mind quickly tried to figure out where he was and his head swivelled upwards and once more took in his surrounding. The noise of someone in the shower made his heart skip a beat as his eyes roamed around the room looking for something to indicate where he was.
He felt the pain growing around his temples as he once more came to the wooden cross on the wall and then he began to take in the far off bookshelf. It wasn’t much really just some planks laid on top of old cement building bricks. There were a few stacks and his eyes looked at the titles on the spines when it dawned on him where he was.
Rob leaned back and felt more at ease because he knew now where he was as well as why he was attired in just his shorts. A little smile came to his lips as he thought about it, wondering when he had passed out and just how had he gotten here. More than likely it had to be after work but then he didn’t even recall leaving work either.
The cold shiver that came to him wasn’t so bad as it had been before and slowly he felt himself warming up under the sleeping bag. He pulled his leg inside and stared once more at the table and the glass. Rob licked his lips as he thought about just finishing what was left but the fear came rushing back to him. There was no mistaking the relief either as he finally realized that so far he had once more dodged another bullet but how much longer would his luck hold out?
Knowing that his luck wouldn’t protect him forever made his hand go back under the sleeping bag, leaving the glass where it was untouched. Rob felt the sadness filling his heart again as he tried to figure out why it was that he did this stuff? Okay so far he had been safe, but then he had only been working at the gay bar for what, 2 months or so?
Sure he was pretty particular about who he partied with from there, and for the most part the other staff was pretty decent but he was pushing it. After all the tips he got each night told him that he was desirable, even if his own mind didn’t quite think that. Darius had certainly told him enough times that he was a hunk but then Darius was a letch too. He also was a damn good piano player and the few times he had crashed at his place he had at least woken up with his clothes on.
Now the owner of Rich’s, Ned was a different story. He definitely was not the type you passed out on and then expect to keep your virtue intact. So far, knock on wood, he had managed to avoid that situation but could he keep on dodging it? The idea of his first gay sexual experience being with the likes of Ned almost made him retch. The twisting of his guts and the sudden rush of acid to his throat told him that he had other problems to contend with other than just fending off Ned.
He looked down to see his clothes neatly piled at the foot of the sofa. Rob smiled realizing that Carl must have tucked him in so to speak and he tossed his feet out from under the sleeping bag and sat up. His head protested a little but no where as much as his stomach. Funny how he would have these inner fights on which part of his body was in worse shape, the head or the guts, but lately his stomach was winning out.
The water sound suddenly stopped as Rob bent down and grabbed his clothes. He put his socks on and then carefully stood up to slide his pants on over his slender frame. Standing there he felt a bit dizzy but managed to hang on as he zipped up the pants and then sat back down again. The effort to remain standing was making him feel nauseous but he fought it back as he always did. The bile in the back of his throat burned as he slowly breathed in and out, gradually gaining control over his young body.
Hell he was only just 22 and weighed a mere 149 pounds sopping wet but it suited him. Standing at exactly 6 foot he knew that many of his customers thought he was a blonde hunk but all he could see was a thin drunk who was one day going to get into a pile of trouble. Okay maybe he had a nice smile and the guys who frequented the bar seemed to dig his longish dirty blond hair that hung just below his slim ear lobes. It had taken a bit to get that hair just right and he realized that next to alcohol he spent the better part of his paycheque on hair products. After all if you wanted the tips you had to look the part didn’t you?
His face grimaced a little as he felt the acid burning inside once more. He also felt that he wasn’t going to be able to hold back the flood much longer if Carl didn’t hurry up and get out of the bathroom. Rob thought about calling out to him but he could hear him moving around and figured it wouldn’t be much longer. He sat there wondering about last night and trying to piece together what had happened. It was generally like this these days and as much as he enjoyed the taste of the booze these morning sessions were not fun. He hated not knowing what he had done or where he had been for that matter.
Obviously they had stayed at the bar after closing drinking otherwise he wouldn’t have wound up with Carl, but then that wasn’t exactly 100% true. He could have stumbled back here after going elsewhere but that would mean he had gotten into some sort of trouble. Shit he wished he could remember exactly what had happened last night but he was drawing a blank. Maybe if he got home and took a nice hot shower he might tickle his memory but lately even that didn’t work.
He tried to take his mind off the pain in his stomach and the thundering drums that were beating inside his head by thinking about other stuff. It was strange how you could wake up in a cold sweat and yet by the time that evening came around the mornings fear was quickly forgotten. He hated this part of the day and yet each night he did his best to insure that once more his mornings would be filled with these same stupid thoughts. He shrugged a little which hurt his head but the growing pain in his stomach seemed to be more intense than normal. He could taste the bile coming up his throat and as much as he hated it, he swallowed hard trying to keep it from spewing out all over Carl’s place.
Granted the place wasn’t exactly fancy but still Carl did keep it neat. He had to respect that and as simple as it was he knew that upchucking was not going to endear him to Carl, plus it would only lead to a whole slew of questions. Funny how the gay people were so much more ‘worried’ than the straight guys. He had gone home with many different types, after all he was a bar waiter and a party animal. If you puked at some straight guy’s place he would make a comment or two about cleaning it up or not holding your booze, but rarely would he ask if you were sick or anything. Gays were different, least the one’s he hung out with and he sat up, wondering about it, wishing that in some ways they weren’t so damn nosey and yet in other ways wondering why normal guys weren’t.
Christ he thought, he was getting stupid in his old age. Maybe the difference really wasn’t that they were gay or straight, maybe it was simply that the gay guys he would go home with were co workers and safe one’s at that. They maybe even considered themselves friends of his which would explain some of it, though he really thought that no matter what, they still had only one thing in the back of their mind, that being to bed him or someone like him. God, what was it about people?
When he worked the straight bars it was the chicks which was okay with him, but still, what was it about everyone looking or wanting a quick fuck? Didn’t anyone ever want more than that? He had his share of hot dates with the girls and for the most part he rather enjoyed their attention, only trouble was when he thought he was maybe getting serious, they either turned out to have a boyfriend already or simply weren’t interested in him for the long term. So much for the myth that women were only looking for husband material. He could personally attest to that being false. God how many had he had that when he wanted to take their relationship up a level backed off?
