Part 1


Justin leaned back against the rough brick wall and lighted his cigarette. His eyes squinted against the smoke as they watched the car drive by for the third time. All he could see was a man, alone, driving the car watching his crew.

Justin wouldn’t allow his crew to be used. Not by him, not by anyone.

He pushed away from the wall as the car came by again, walking slowly to the curb, watching as the sedan pulled to a stop near him. He peered inside the car, but couldn’t make out the face of the man inside. All he saw was hands on the steering wheel, one of which came off and signaled for Justin to come closer. Justin smiled, flipping his cigarette to the ground and headed to the car.

The front window was rolled down half way, and still the man’s face was in shadow. Justin leaned down onto the door. “Yeah? You want something?”

“I’m trying to find someone,” came the answer from inside the car.

“And you think I can help?” Justin mused, watching as the man’s hands gripped the steering while tensely. Must be a first timer, Justin thought. He’d dealt with these creeps all the time, but Justin really enjoyed beating down the newbies.

“Yeah,” the voice said. “He’s sixteen, dressed like you…name is Tyler.”

“That specific, huh?” Justin replied, but was confused by the man’s words. Usually these creeps weren’t so specific…any punk boy would do.

“No, I’m looking for him,” was the reply. “He’s…”

“Special?”

The shadow nodded.

“Man, they’re all special,” Justin returned, indicating his crew watching the activities at the car. “All my boys are special, and none of them will get with you.” With that, Justin threw open the door and pulled the man out of the car.

He slammed the other man against the car, smiling at his groan of pain. “You bastards…coming down here to get a quick fuck from a desperate boy…” Slam. “Now you’re coming here with a name…” Slam. “Wanting a particular kid…fucking bastard…” Slam. “You’ll be lucky if I let you keep your cock after I’m done with you.” SLAM!

“You don’t understand,” the man croaked.

Justin pulled the man up close to him, glaring into his eyes as his hands closed around his throat. “Don’t I?” he said, his voice icy with rage.

The man shook his head weakly. “He’s…Tyler….my brother,” he said, slumping against Justin in a dead faint.

****************


“Damn, Jup. I think you killed him.”

“Nah, he’s alive. See? He’s breathing.”

JC heard the voices around him, but kept his eyes closed. That voice was unknown to him, but the one that answered wasn’t. It was the voice of the boy that had pulled him from the car. JC’s memory flashed to a punked out boy of no more than 18…a boy tough as nails and twice as hard.

“I think he’s breathing,” the voice said again, this time not as sure as before.

JC felt hot breath against his face and finally opened his eyes. His eyes locked with bright blue eyes surrounded by spiky lashes so close JC could count them. Their gaze held for a split second, then the boy pulled back.

“See?” he spoke to someone. “Told you he was alive.”

JC looked around at the faces hovering over him. Five…six…seven of them. All like the first boy, punked out. Their hair in spikes or shaved close to the scalp, their bodies pierced, their faces hard.

“Thank you for not killing me,” JC told the leader, sitting up and rubbing his sore throat.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he returned. “The night’s still young and well…we still don’t know what you want from us.”

“I’m looking for my brother,” JC replied, reaching inside his jacket for the picture of Tyler. He handed it to the boy.

It was a recent snap of Tyler, scowling at the camera, his hair a mass of purple streaks, his eyes darkened by liner. Black lipstick covered his mouth. JC wondered again where his little brother had gone, both literally and figuratively. And what…what had prompted him to leave so suddenly.

“What makes you think he’s here?”

JC’s eyes closed as he remembered his mother’s frantic phone call. Josh…Joshua…he’s gone, Tyler’s gone…he’s run away from home…you’ve got to help me, Josh…he’s just a baby…please…

“He’d been gone for two weeks when my mother finally called,” JC said, taking the picture back. “I searched his room, found a bus schedule for LA, and figured he’d lit out to here.” He rubbed a tired hand over his face. “I just…don’t know what to do, where to look.”

JC watched the boy observe him, then indicate to the others in the room to leave. They did so without question or comment. JC was impressed by the action.

“Why look at all?” the boy said. “Maybe he wants to be gone and not found.”

“Then he’ll have to tell me that, after I’ve found him.” JC’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know him?”

The boy shook his head.

JC sighed, rising from the ground. He removed a card from his pocket and handed it to the boy. “Here,” he said. “If you do happen to see him, please give him this…or call me…or hell, just take it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Keep looking,” JC said. “I promised my mother I’d try and find him, and that’s what I’ll do.”

“You’ll get killed.”

The words were said so simply they chilled JC to the bone.

“You’ll end up asking questions of someone who’s not nearly as nice as me,” the boy said, coming to stand in front of JC, smiling slightly. “And then where will your precious Tyler be, hmm? Still lost in the big, bad city.”

JC’s eyes closed against the image. “I don’t have a choice.” He looked at the boy. “Why do you care what happens to me?”

“Well, I’d hate for someone I didn’t kill to go out and get himself killed anyway,” came the reply. “How much money do you have?”

JC blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

The boy licked his lips. “Hmm, sounds good, but not today,” he retorted. “How much money do you have?”

“On me? A few hundred.”

“You’ll need more.”

“For what?”

“To get answers.” He moved away from JC, opening the door to the outside. “Here,” he said, tossing a set of keys to JC.

“You’re going to help me?” JC asked.

The boy nodded.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Nothing better to do.” He waved to the other punkboys standing outside the door. He flopped into the passenger seat of the car.

JC knew enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He slid behind the wheel, turning on the ignition. “I’m JC, by the way,” he said by way of introduction.

The silence stretched for minutes.

“Justin,” he finally replied.

JC slid a glance at the boy, wondering what had brought him to this place…this life…and knowing that asking would be a mistake. And right now, he needed this boy, Justin, more than he’d needed anyone ever in his life.



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