Part 2


“Pull over here,” Justin ordered.

JC did so, noting yet another band of punked out kids hanging near a deserted building, hoping, praying, that this group might know something.

JC had spent the days in LA searching the places he could go, like hospitals and youth centers. He’d even checked with the police, searched the county jail, and called the morgue. So far, he hadn’t had any luck with finding Tyler, not even anyone who’d seen him.

The nighttime ventures weren’t anymore successful. They’d been searching for Tyler for two nights now, and JC had lost count of the times Justin had instructed him to pull over so Justin could speak to them. He’d given Justin money to give the people he’d spoken to. So far he was out $200, and still had no answers. No clue as to where Tyler was, or if this effort with Justin would even

He watched Justin saunter back to the car, flopping inside and shaking his head. JC laid his head on his hands resting on the wheel of the car as a wave of disappointment crested over him. He tamped the feeling down, starting up the engine. “Where to now?”

“I’m hungry,” Justin said.

JC turned to look at the boy in the car. Justin was a puzzle, never speaking unless spoken to, and then each remark was usually sarcastic or confusing. He met up with JC each night, standing outside JC’s hotel room, leaning on his car, a smirk on his face. After spending two nights inside a car with him, JC still couldn’t decide if his toughness was all an act, or if he really was as hard as he portrayed.

JC pulled into the parking lot of Denny’s, and they went inside, Justin sliding into a booth and snagging the menu.

“Coffee?” the waitress said.

JC looked at her. Another punked out girl; black eyes, dog collar, spiked hair. It looked incongruous with her crisp uniform. “Yes, thank you. Justin?” Justin shook his head.

“You ready to order?”

“Yeah,” Justin said, finally looking up at the girl, smiling at her. “Well, hello Christine.”

“Hey Justin,” the waitress said. “Long time, no see.”

“You doing okay here?” Justin asked.

The waitress, Christine, smiled softly at Justin. “I’m doing great, Justin. I never thanked…”

Justin cut her off. “Don’t mention it.” He folded his menu. “I’ll have a double cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate milk shake.”

Christine wrote on her pad, then turned to JC. “Sir?”

JC shook his head. “I’m fine with the coffee.”

She left, leaving the two men alone. Justin sat sideways in the booth, legs stretched out as he lit a cigarette. JC watched as he toyed with the ash, flicking it on his hand before blowing it into the air.

“What?”

JC blinked, realizing Justin had caught him staring. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “But I’ve having a hard time figuring you out.”

Justin shrugged. “Nothing to figure out,” he scoffed.

“Oh, I think there is,” JC argued. “You act all tough, but you’re willing to help me, and now I learn you helped her,” JC nodded to the waitress. “Why would a tough punk kid help someone like her?”

“Because her boyfriend was beating her up all the time,” he said, taking a deep drag on his cigarette, watching JC through the smoke. “I don’t like bullies.”

“And me?” JC asked. “Why are you helping me?”

Justin smiled slightly. “I have my reasons,” he said, eyes running over JC with a quick and nasty glance.

A shiver went through JC. He hadn’t imagined it, he thought. There was something there…something between them. He was saved from any kind of response though by the arrival of Justin’s meal. The boy attacked the food with gusto, devouring it as if he hadn’t eaten all day. Which he probably hadn’t. “Do you want more?” he asked.

Justin shook his head, lighting another cigarette. “I’m cool, thanks.”

The silence stretched between them.

“Are we going to find my brother, Justin?” JC finally asked. The despair of the last two nights was starting to build inside JC, a sense of hopelessness coming over him.

“Probably not.” Justin flicked an ash. “Why are you doing this?”

Their eyes met. “He’s my brother,” JC said simply.

“Here ya go, fellas,” Christine said, laying a check on the table.

JC reached into his pocket for some money, laying the picture of Tyler on the table as he dealt with the bills. Christine’s gaze flicked over the picture, then slid quickly away. She picked up the money and moved away from the table, only to be stopped by Justin’s hand on her arm.

“Hold on,” he said, pulling her into the booth next to him.

“Justin, what are you doing?” she asked, trying to pull away. “I can’t sit here, with customers.” Her eyes flicked to the manager behind the counter.

“Where is he?” Justin asked, pulling the picture of Tyler across the table toward Christine.

“I don’t…” Christine looked at JC, seeing something there and sighed. “He’s a friend, Justin, that’s all.”

JC blinked. “Tyler? You know my brother?”

“Your brother?” Christine said. “Yeah, I know him.”

“Where is he? How is he? Can you take me to him?” JC’s voice rose with excitement.

Christine rose from the booth. “I don’t know where he is,” she explained. “Really, I don’t.” JC’s shoulders slumped in despair. “But I don know where he’ll be later tonight.”

“Where?” Justin asked.

She looked at them. “A rave at Big Mike’s, over on 114th.” She shrugged. “I still do the scene now and then, so I know where the latest thing is happening.”

JC jumped from the booth, grabbing Christine by the shoulders, kissing her soundly on the cheek. “Thank you so much!” He pressed a wad of bills in her hand. “Here…for the food…and the coffee!” He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Justin! Let’s go!” he ordered, racing out the door of the Denny’s.

“Friend of yours?” Christine asked wryly.

“For the moment,” Justin said. He, too, kissed the waitress before leaving. “Take care, Chris,” he said.

JC had pulled the car up to the door, waiting impatiently for Justin to get out of the diner. “Come on,” JC yelled, revving the engine, which was ridiculous, since they had been driving around in a Buick.

“What’s the rush, JC?” Justin asked, foot braced on the dash as JC peeled out of the parking lot.

“We know where Tyler is, Justin,” he said. “Which way is 114th?”

“Slow down there, slugger,” Justin ordered. “For one thing, it’s a rave, which means it won’t even start for,” Justin squinted at the clock, reading the dial as 10:30, “for another three hours. For another,” he continued, looking at JC with derision. “You are not going.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Slick, you’d stick out like a sore thumb, if they even let you in, that is.”

JC pulled off the curb, turning to Justin with pleading eyes. “He’s my brother, Justin,” he said. “I promised…I have to find him.”

Justin lit another cigarette, regarding JC with hooded eyes. “Then we’ve got some work to do.”

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

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“You have to.”

JC shook his head.

Justin nodded.

“Why?” JC asked.

“Because it’s the only way you can go.”

“But…”

“But nothing,” Justin cut off. “Look, you either do this, or you stay behind, there is no other choice.”

JC looked at him one last time before going into the small bathroom. They’d gone back to Justin’s small rented room where Justin had told him what he had to do in order to attend the rave.

Justin had told him he had to punk out.

JC looked at the clothes he held, then quickly changed into them. He looked at the various jars and bottles in the bathroom, using some to spike up his hair. Justin had included a collar for his neck and wrist, and after snapping them on, he spied the tube of eyeliner. He ran a line around his eyes, then finally looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Hello, stranger. It’s been a long time… JC shook his head, turning off the light and exiting the bathroom.

Justin looked up at his exit, whistling softly. “Well, well, well,” he said, rising from the tattered couch and walking to JC. “Don’t you look all…” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Tough.”

“Let’s go,” JC said, his voice controlled.

“Hold on.” Justin reached out a hand toward JC’s face, rubbing his thumb softly along his bottom lashes of his right eye.

JC felt a bolt of electricity shoot from Justin’s thumb down to his groin. His breathing shallowed as Justin did the same thing to his other eye, taking his time, and lazily running his fingers down JC’s cheek. “You make a real pretty punk boy, JC,” Justin murmured, his eyes locked on JC’s mouth.

JC watched Justin lick his lips, and felt the fingers still on his face move down to curl around his neck. “You think so?’ JC whispered, wondering where his bravado was coming from. He felt he should flee from here…but also knew he couldn’t move if his life depended on it.

Justin nodded, his eyes still locked on JC’s mouth. “Very…very pretty.” Their eyes locked. “You’d better stay close to me tonight. Wouldn’t want anyone to steal you away.”

“We’re not going to party, Justin.” JC was going to pull away from the fingers playing in his hair. Soon. “We’ll find Tyler, get him out of there, and that will be it.”

Justin raised a brow. “And that means we can’t have any fun?” he mused.

“I don’t consider a rave as fun, Justin.”

The boy’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “That’s because you haven’t been to one with me.” He licked his lips again. “Yet.”



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