Placing Out (3 page)

I was fifteen, nearly sixteen, almost seven years after my Da put us on the placing out train, when Becky found me in the barn one July day. I was alone, cleaning out the four stalls that held the dairy cows the Missus used to supply the house with milk, cream and butter. Jacob, Joseph and Mister Chatterfield had gone into town for supplies, leaving the younger ones and the Missus behind.

Becky was supposed to be minding Mary, the little one that had just been born in the spring. Instead she came through the open barn door swinging a crooked wooden stick around and stirring up chaff that made her sneeze. She wiped her snotty nose with her skirt, pulling it up so I could see her plump legs all the way to her petticoats. When she dropped them she caught sight of me staring at her.

"Whatchya lookin' at, boy?"

"Nothin'."

She twitched the skirt back up. Her legs flashed white. "You think this is nothing?"

"No, ma'am." I knew better than to smart mouth any of the Chatterfields' kids. Mister Chatterfield make that real plain more than once. "It sure ain't."

"You ever touched a girl?"

"No," I said, squinting at her. She had a wild gleam in her eyes that made me curious. What was she up to now? "'Course not."

She sidled closer, until I could smell her sweat and a fresh mown lawn smell over the more familiar stink of cows. "You want to?"

What was she talking about? I already seen her legs and I was looking at her freckled bosom--she had open the top two buttons on her dress. Something I'm sure her ma wouldn't like. Missus Chatterfield always wore her dark dresses buttoned up to her chin and I bet she never flashed her legs to no one. I cocked my head at her.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"You're a boy, ain't you? I'm a girl. Boys an' girls do that all the time."

I'd heard Jacob and Joseph talk about girls in our school. They'd sneak out after lunch and light up their stolen cigarettes. They only let me join them when I said I'd tell their pa if they said no. I also stole them some Lucky Strikes from Old Man Wiley's general store down the street from our school. We'd stand out behind the privy and smoke and Jacob and Joseph would talk between puffs, mostly about what they were gonna do when they growed up. Jacob was gonna marry Annie-May Poulson down the road at the Poulson farm. Poulson was the neighborhood swell. He not only ran a successful ranch on his thousand acres, he ran the local John Deere franchise.

Whenever either of them mentioned a girl, they'd talk crazy about what they done with them, and what they gonna do someday. Jacob had gone to war in 1916 when he turned eighteen. He told us wild tales of what he'd done in France and Germany. How he'd killed a hundred krauts and fucked two hundred German whores. I learned Sue Amity, the redhead from across the tracks put out. What she put out they never said and I knew I'd get my ears boxed if I asked. But it was something got them all excited. Once Jacob grabbed his crotch and I was fascinated to see the thick bulge between his legs. Had he always been that big? Then I realized his cock was stiff, like mine got in the early morning or sometimes at night when I'm trying to sleep in the hot, airless attic in the dog days of summer.

The first time I'd touched myself when I was like that, I was shocked at how good it felt. There had to be something wrong with me, but I didn't dare ask Missus or Mister Chatterfield about it. Even I knew those were private parts and no one ever talked about them. But most nights I'd go out to the privy before bed and stroke myself until I filled my hand with the creamy stuff that came out of my dick.

I wondered if Jacob or Joseph ever played with themselves. I wondered if Caleb did. Just the thought of that made me hard. I thought of him some nights while I lay on my cot, and whenever I did I had to stroke myself until my hardness went away.

Now, standing in front of Becky, with her eager eyes and flushed face I realized what she meant. From her look it was clear she expected me to get excited over her words. So why didn't I? Was there something wrong with me?

I backed away from her. "Your pa would kill us. Kill me, for sure."

"He don't need to know, do he?"

There was a high-pitched baying from Mister Chatterfield's hound and a wagon rattled into the yard. Becky whirled around, forgetting all about me. She bolted for the barn door. I followed her and stopped in the doorway, watching her race into the house just as the Chatterfields pulled into the yard, their team of mules, Oscar and Bill, tossing their heads, eager to get out of their traces and back in the paddock they shared behind the barn.

I unhooked them, leading Oscar while Caleb took Bill. They were hot, so we walked them down the lane and back before brushing them down and putting them out. We walked shoulder to shoulder to the paddock behind the barn. Once we released them we put the harness away. We both went back to the paddock and leaned against the fence, watching the pair roll in the dust. They shook themselves off and stood head to tail, swishing flies off each other's face. I looked over to find Caleb watching me. He'd lit up the minute we were outside. His pa would kill both of us if he caught us smoking this close to the barn. I shrugged, and lit one of my own.

Over the cigarette smoke I could smell him and, unlike Becky's, his scent was doing things to my insides that scared me almost as much as it excited me. A look at his crotch told me he was hard, too. My throat was suddenly so dry I couldn't swallow.

"Do you want to touch it?" he whispered, half turning to face me, his hip brushing mine. He sucked on his cigarette. One of his hands brushed my thigh. A jolt of raw pleasure smacked me like a bolt of lightning. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't resist. I slid my right hand over the swelling between his legs, cupping the length of it. He felt firm in my hand.

I wanted to see it. Caleb made a soft sound in his throat when I teased open the buttons of his trousers and slid my fingers inside. Thick hair surrounded the rigid pole that filled my hand. I stroked him a couple of times and was startled when he yelped and jerked, exploding his stuff all over his clothes and mine.

"Shit!" He pulled away from me. "Look what you did."

I was still hard and wanted to pull out my own so he could do the same thing to me, but one look at his face and I fled. I rushed into the barn. Without thinking, I stepped into the feed and tack room. I pulled down the team's harness, sat on a bale of straw and fell to cleaning the leather like Mister Chatterfield showed me. I kept throwing glances at the open door, waiting for Mister Chatterfield or one of the older boys to come in and whale on me. What I had done to Caleb was a sin. I didn't need no preacher to tell me that.

But if it was so wrong, why did it feel so fucking good? That couldn't be right. Just thinking about Caleb's prick in my hands, hearing the sounds he made, the smell of his stuff made me hard again. This time I didn't hesitate. I drew my now stiff dick out and closed my eyes as I brought myself off. The whole time images of Caleb burned in my brain. I wanted to be alone with him, just Caleb and me, naked. What I meant to do after that I didn't know. I only know every time I thought of it I grew feverish and shaky.

What was wrong with me?

I wasn't going to be able to stay here. I knew that now. Not that I knew where I could go, only away from here. But another two years passed and I just kept getting bigger and Mister Chatterfields found harder and harder things for me to do. I was filled out now, but still skinny, which pissed the Mister off real bad.

Every Saturday, when the morning chores were done, the Chatterfields would go to the nickelodeon. They invited me and I got all gussied up in the new suit the Resident Agent bought for me when he visited on my sixteenth birthday. The collar made my neck itch and the tie they made me wear felt like a noose, but the moving pictures were so terrific it was worth it. It was even better when I got to sit next to Caleb. We could giggle at the silliness of Keaton or Chaplin, our heads bent together so the Missus and Mister Chatterfields wouldn't catch us or we'd feel her switch for sure. I was usually close enough to feel his warm breath and see the light fuzz on his cheek like I knew I had on mine. I shaved every three days now and it looked like Caleb might not shave at all. His face hair was like peach silk. I wondered what it tasted like.

Two months after my seventeenth birthday, we drove twenty-two miles into North Platte to watch
The Delicious Little Devil
and I first saw Rudolph Valentino. I sat frozen in my seat, not feeling the usual chafing, or sore feet from too tight shoes I'd grown out of already. I watched Jimmy Calhoun fall in love with the phony Gloria Du Moins. I never saw the actress, Mae Murray. I couldn't tear my eyes away from Valentino. Was it possible for a man to be so beautiful? His lips and his eyes spoke of things I had only ever guessed at. Things that made what I had done to Caleb seem like children's games.

That was when I knew where I had to go. To Hollywood, to meet Rudolph Valentino.

Los Angeles, February 22, 1933

Things were quiet after what the papers called the Whiskey House Massacre. Ben wrote up his report. He had gone by the hospital to check on Cody, who was already cursing the doctors and trying to get the nurses into his bed. Heading out on patrol, he was stopped by Captain William Roach, the guy who had put together and ran the Red Squad. Set up to bust commie and union agitator heads, the
Times
never missed a chance to extol "'Red'" Roach. No surprise there. Chandler was pathologically anti-union. Ben wouldn't be surprised if they pushed Roach to be the next Chief of Police when Porter got tired of the one they had now. Or a new mayor came in and cleaned the whole roster. Anything could happen then.

Roach led him into an empty office and took a chair behind the desk. "Sit down," he said. "Got a proposal for you."

"Yah?" Ben didn't sit. "What?"

"Want you to join us. Help us keep the commies out."

He perked up at that. The Red Squad was high on the chief and the mayor's A list. A man coming from that could go far. The last Chief of Police came from Vice. Ben wanted to be Lieutenant by the time he was thirty-five. Now he no longer had to pay for the position, he might make it on ability.

"What would I have to do?"

"I want to see you in action. See if you're up for it."

Ben thought of busting commie heads. Nothing wrong with that. Maybe this financial mess the whole world was falling into
was
their fault. Payback would be a fine thing. Beat rousting pickpockets.

"I'm up for it."

"I'll be calling on you then. Your lieutenant has been apprised."

Roach left and Ben went out to finish his watch.

Two weeks later Roach showed up at the beginning of his graveyard shift. He handed him a Colt automatic and a shoulder holster. "Ditch the Sam Browne. Use this and use that"--he pointed at Ben's .45 revolver--"as your backup piece. Tonight that's all you need. Other times you'll be using something more powerful."

Ben followed Roach into the garage where instead of picking up one of the marked units, they climbed into a black Buick. They were joined by two other men Ben had seen around off and on over the years he'd been on the force. Aside from terse nods, no one spoke on their way.

At first Ben tried to guess where they were going, but Roach, the driver, stayed off the main roads and took unexpected turns. After ten minutes of seemingly aimless driving, he recognized where they were when they passed the short cul-de-sac Kevin lived on. His stomach lurched when they pulled into the alley between Daisy's Drugs and the dentist and the discreet, unmarked entrance to Johnny's behind them.

He couldn't speak. To talk would be to give away the jolt of fear that filled his mouth with bile. The four of them climbed out of the Buick and approached the narrow alcove that partially concealed the door. Roach led them inside and down the stairs. Peaches was on the door again. Her eyes lit into Ben's seconds before Roach's nightstick landed on her temple and she went down with a screech. Roach reached down and yanked the blond hairpiece off Peaches' bleeding head. He swung the stick again, Ben heard the crack of cartilage as the drag queen's nose erupted in a gush of blood. She started choking as blood poured down her throat.

Roach booted her over on her side. He stepped over her twitching body and shoved the door open. A blast of Ella Fitzgerald covered their entrance. They reached the bar before anyone knew they'd be invaded. The music was replaced by screams as Roach and the other two swung their batons with cold efficiency.

Ben knew he was being watched to see whether he was participating in the blood bath. That was when he spotted Kevin going under Roach's stick. Ben lunged forward, knocking over a pair of men in Marine uniforms. The tallest fell into Roach, who lost his grip on Kevin. Before he could catch his balance, Ben dragged Kevin out from under the others.

Kevin yelped a protest when Ben snapped cuffs on him. Ben leaned over and hissed into his lover's ear, "Don't fight. Trust me, Kev."

Kevin went limp and Ben pulled him behind the bar. He lowered him to the floor, yelling as he straightened. "Stay down, asshole." He pretended to kick the fallen man.

A stool flew over his head and crashed into the mirrored bar back. Ben ducked, shielding Kevin from the rain of glass. From the other side came the crack of breaking wood and the cries of wounded men.

Back out on the floor he cuffed a couple more men, thankful none of them seemed to recognize him. It was a Tuesday, and he didn't think he'd ever been to the place mid-week like that. He hadn't thought Kevin came to Johnny's then either.

Christ. He'd known the raids on pansy clubs had started, but not that they had become this vicious, this fast. Last year this place had curious men and woman alike coming out to get a glimpse at the drag show that went on every Friday. Ben had been glad when they stopped, since it meant he had to stay away on those nights at the risk of being seen by the wrong people. He hadn't thought it would mean this was coming. The world had gotten a lot uglier of late.