Sons (20 page)

“Zan, it’s true. Michael’s his lover and everything. Didn’t you ever wonder why Michael lives with us? They sleep in the same bedroom every night… in the same bed!”

Alexandra stared at Colin in disbelief. She had known Jan Phillips all her life. There were times when she had felt like he was a long-lost uncle—rich, famous, and handsome.

She gasped. “You’re making this up. I don’t believe you.”

Even as she said this, Alexandra reflected on Colin’s unsolicited outburst the first time they made love.

I’m not queer or anything like
that
!

She cocked her head, waiting, hoping Colin would burst into a “gotcha” laugh. He didn’t.

“True?” she said.

“It’s true, Zan. You met Michael when you and your mom came for dinner. Didn’t you notice how he was with my dad? They acted like married people, not just friends.”

Colin’s face twisted with a combination of shame and fear. His voice broke in a half sob.

“Nobody at school knows, so for God’s sake, Zan, please don’t tell anyone! Okay? Please, promise me you won’t tell!”

Alexandra leaned her head on Colin’s shoulder.

“So, your dad’s gay, so what? What does that have to do with you? You’re not gay. I mean, okay, I’m surprised. I’ve known him forever. It’s like you find out something about a person that all of a sudden makes them seem different.”

“Promise me you won’t tell!” Colin demanded once more.

“I promise. I won’t tell.”

Alexandra let all this wash over her. She felt she loved this boy, but his life was more complicated than she had realized, and that meant that her life was getting complicated too. She didn’t understand why Colin was so upset. After all, she knew gay kids, and they didn’t threaten her in the least. She snuggled closer and closed her eyes. She pushed away all thought and let herself feel his body next to hers.

“Zan, I was thinking….”

Alexandra opened one eye and said, “What?”

“You know that guy Lou we met at the Black as Night concert?”

“You mean the concert that wasn’t?” she said guardedly. “What about him?”

“Well, he said I had style, because of my outfit, and he said I should come to see him. He said he’s a film producer. So I was thinking, maybe I could get a job with him, and I could make enough money to get my own place.”

Alexandra sat up and looked at Colin.

“Are you crazy?” she exclaimed. “You’re only fifteen! You couldn’t get your own place even if you had the money. Colin, what’s going on? Has someone done something to you, like abuse maybe?”

“No… but I saw a show on TV where this girl divorced her parents, and the court made her an emancipated minor. I was thinking maybe I could do that.”

“But why? Your dad and Michael are very nice. That Amal guy is a little strange, but he seems harmless, so if no one has done anything to you, why do you want to leave?”

Colin looked away and said, “You just don’t understand.”

“You’re right about that!”

Alexandra tugged at Colin’s sleeve. He turned.

“You know, Colin, there are kids we go to school with who would kill to have the life you have.”

“Yeah, well they don’t know what I have to put up with,” Colin said.

“Oh, you poor baby. You’re
so
disadvantaged,” Alexandra said sarcastically. “Did you know Toby Watkins has to walk on crutches for the rest of his life because his family couldn’t afford treatment for him when he had osteomyelitis?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Colin said sourly.

Alexandra frowned at this remark.

“Toby told me he had an infection in his bone. By the time someone finally got him into a hospital, his leg bone was almost eaten away. Colin, he almost died!”

“How can he go to All Souls anyway, if his parents are so poor?”

Alexandra’s face flushed red with indignation.

“He’s smart, or haven’t you noticed?”

“Why are you pissed at me? What have I done?” Colin complained.

“Because you’re acting like a brat.”

Colin pulled away and got out of the booth.

“I gotta go.”

For a brief moment, Alexandra wanted to let him go. She was tired of trying to get her head around a situation she didn’t understand, but she couldn’t let him walk away thinking she wasn’t on his side, whatever side that was.

“Colin, wait! Come back.”

Alexandra took Colin’s hand, drawing him back onto the seat.

“I’m sorry. I was harsh. I just….”

“Yeah, well… I’m sorry too. I’m sorry Toby is a cripple. I’m sorry I’m a brat. I’m sorry that I’m afraid all the time… afraid I’ll be like my dad someday. I’m sorry my mom’s dead, and my Aunt Elaine dumped me. I… I’m sorry… that’s all.”

Colin bit his lip to keep from crying.

So that’s it! He thinks no one wants him!
Alexandra toyed with a strand of her long hair.

“I want you,” she whispered.

The lovers sat in uneasy silence, and then Colin said, “Okay look, I told Lou I’d meet him at his studio. You wanna come with me?”

“Where is it?”

“He said it’s in a warehouse across Vine Street at Sixth or Seventh. I forgot his business card, so I guess I’ll have to look for it. There’s gotta be a sign on the door or something. He told me to be there around seven o’clock, so we have plenty of time to find it.”

“That’s too late for me. School tomorrow, remember? Besides, my mom won’t be home for dinner, and she’ll have a cow if I’m not home when she gets in. Sorry, I’ll pass. Colin… be careful. You don’t know this guy,” Alexandra warned.

Colin became defensive. His earlier admissions put him in a combative mood.

“I already talked to him once on the phone, and he’s really cool. He likes me, and I like him… okay? I think I can choose my own friends.”

Alexandra leaned into Colin’s cheek and planted a wet kiss, a promise of things to come.

“Call me when you get home?”

“Sure, Zan.”

Colin searched for words to express how he felt about her, and his unhappiness at what turned into their first lover’s spat.

“What?” she said.

Rather than answering, he pulled Alexandra into his arms and kissed her tenderly.

“Hey, you two! None of that in here! Take it outside,” a man in a chocolate-stained apron yelled from behind the counter.

Blushing with embarrassment, Colin and Alexandra walked hand in hand down the narrow aisle that separated the counter from a row of window booths. As they passed him, the man gave the two a reproving glare.

Colin turned and mouthed back at their tormentor, “Eat your heart out.”

Out on the street, the two parted with a kiss.

Thirty-Two

C
OLIN
left Alexandra staring at his back. He strolled along several blocks of familiar Walnut Street, stopping in at Hip’s Record Shoppe to check on the latest music releases. He glanced at his watch. Six o’clock. He had plenty of time to kill. Browsing along the aisles, he decided,
I’ll get Zan a CD.
S
omething romantic.

Colin checked his watch again. Six thirty. He quickly picked out an album, paid a tall teen with a definite swish to his walk, and left the record store.

Jogging along Walnut Street’s wide sidewalk, he came to Seventh Street, where he turned and dodged his way through Chinatown’s tourist-clogged streets.

Leaving Philadelphia’s slice of Asia behind, Colin quickly walked on, crossing over Vine Street by way of a mesh covered overpass and into one of the city’s seedier warehouse districts. He had just ten minutes to find Louis’s film studio, and he was getting anxious.
What if this scheme didn’t pan out? What then?

As he walked the minutes away, Colin wondered,
What does Lou have in mind? He’s a nice guy, and he likes me. Maybe I’ll be a stagehand or maybe even an actor! Maybe I’ll be famous! This has gotta work.

As he walked up the center of the deserted street, he scanned windows and doors for signs of life. Row upon row of stubby buildings, each a twin and each ripe with decay, flanked the street for as far as he could see. One of these centuries-old brick warehouses housed Louis’s studio.

Colin watched an unsteady wind stir a small paper cup, which took flight for a mere second before crashing noiselessly into a knot of parched chicory weed. In this place, commerce had no use for beauty, and the stubborn blue flower was the only ornament to find a home in the brick and concrete desert. A once-proud Mercedes saloon car, wheels stripped to the axles, leaned paralyzed along a curb. What was left of the car’s interior had become a temporary shelter for men, women, children, cats, dogs, and armies of crawly critters. His father’s wealth had accustomed Colin to elegant automobiles. He looked sympathetically at the stricken vehicle, shook his head, and then walked on, scanning doors for addresses. Foolishly, he had forgotten to bring Louis’s business card with him. The only thing he remembered was 145, the first three street numbers. If he didn’t find the place soon, he knew he would have to turn back and possibly lose out on a golden opportunity. Colin was also aware that there was only a short time of daylight left. If he was going to find Louis’s building, he’d have to do it soon.

Colin found what he was looking for in the next block. The chipped remnants of decades-old signs swathed the dull brick of a six-story building. A wood plaque, hung haphazardly from a nail on the front door, read, “LC Enterprises.”

C
OLIN
thought,
This was easy.

The gray, windowless steel door didn’t budge when Colin turned the knob. He pounded his fist three times against the rough metal, then stepped back and looked up at the building’s decayed façade. Paint covered all the windowpanes in a black wash. He waited a minute and banged on the door again. Nothing. Colin scratched his head and checked his wristwatch. It was just seven o’clock.
Louis
did
say seven.

Colin shrugged off his disappointment and walked to the right side of the warehouse, where a wide alley led back to a rusty chain link fence, which guarded a large parking pad, and a disused loading dock. The gate was open. He looked around.

That’s odd. There aren’t any cars here. I wonder if he’s here. Maybe I made a mistake—better make sure.

Colin ignored the four cargo doors on the elevated bay and walked to a steel door that matched the one out front. An overhead light beamed down a dim pool of yellow light, illuminating a red button set into the doorjamb with the words, “Press For Assistance.”

“At last!” Colin muttered. He mashed down on the button and waited.
I hope he hasn’t forgotten.

L
OUIS
C
AREW
himself answered the call. He was dressed in jeans, a heavy flannel shirt, and work boots. Not the kind of clothes Colin expected a movie producer would wear, but rather someone setting out for a hike in the woods.

“Hey, Colin! I was hoping I’d see you today. Come in! You sounded anxious to see my operation. That’s why I suggested you come over.”

Louis led Colin up a flight of cement stairs, painted a shiny chocolate brown. The odor of new paint hung heavily in the stairwell. At the first landing, they came to another steel door. Louis’s business card hung taped at eye level.

From the moment he stepped into the room, unusual smells attacked his senses—a mix of strong cleaning chemicals that he took for bleach, stale perfume, and something familiar, biological, yet out of place. It was the smell of sex. Colin knew the odor of sex. He had experienced it often enough after hours spent entangled in Zan’s arms.

But why do I smell it now, in here?

Colin wriggled his nose as if doing so would purge the odor that grew stronger as he moved closer to the center of the room. Here, the air redolent with sweat and something dirty, not unlike rotten rubber, was overpowering.

Louis Carew closed the door behind them and turned the deadbolt lock, slowly, quietly.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Carew. I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” Colin said, “and I didn’t know if this was the right building. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Louis’s smile had changed slightly from one of camaraderie to one of guile.

“No, not at all. I wouldn’t have suggested you stop by if I was busy. Besides, Sunday is just another workday in the entertainment business. They don’t stop running movies, or cancel TV shows on Sundays, do they?”

“No, sir.”

“So, you came alone. I thought you were going to bring your girlfriend.”

“She couldn’t come.”

“That’s okay, another time, maybe.”

Louis put his arm around Colin’s slim shoulders and gave a short hug as he guided the teen deeper into the studio.

“Oh, and by the way, don’t call me sir. I want you to call me LC, and I’ll call you Col—if I may.”

“Sure!”

It made Colin feel like an adult when Carew insisted he call him by his initials.

Standing beside Louis, Colin became more aware of his surroundings. Long cloth panels hung up, down, and sideways along the walls. Furniture of every shape and style lay jumbled everywhere. Along one rough brick wall, a rack of clothes held backdrop panels in place.