A Guardian of Innocents (12 page)

As I turned out of the parking lot and stepped onto the sidewalk of a dimly lit Harry Hines Boulevard (the one working street lamp was flickering sporadically) I realized what a really, really
bad
fucking idea this was. There are undesirable neighborhoods all throughout America, and there are the tough neighborhoods—which are worse. But then there are places like this, places which make you feel there is no hope for humanity. We’re all fucking doomed no matter what we try to do to prevent it.

The curbs were overflowing with prostitutes, their pimps usually close by. The drug dealers were handling more money tonight than I would see in five years. It seemed every third or fourth building on both sides of the street was either a porn shop or a strip club. I also noticed a cheap little shithole of a hotel on one corner which I wondered if Galen was a patron. It would certainly be close and convenient.

And during my brief stay on this wicked stretch of road, can you guess how many police cars I saw cruising down the street? I imagined if they got called to a shooting out there, they’d probably just wait thirty minutes and show up with bodybags.

I made it to my intersection and found the group of boys Desiree had told me about. There were five of them, most dressed in sleeveless “tummy” shirts with the bottom four inches cut off to display their lower abdominal muscles. They all had earrings and various other body piercings, and two were sporting haircuts which made them look eerily similar to certain members of a certain boy band popular at the time.

I stopped for a moment. I needed to figure out what I should do next. It seemed these guys all knew each other and they didn’t care for newcomers who tried to compete with them.

As I was thinking, I felt that little inner tug again. I looked both ways down the street, expecting Galen to stroll along in his car, ready to pick up a he-hooker.

That’s why I was so shocked when, with no precognitive warning, he bumped into me as he was exiting the porn shop I was standing in front of.

“Watch it, asshole,” he mumbled as he started to walk away, looking through a black plastic bag full of videos he’d rented.

I was so unnerved by the surprise, I almost missed my chance.

“Hi,” I said meekly. He had definitely heard something in my tone of voice. Galen glanced up gave me a once over. I tried to convey a look of desperation and poverty, a look that might silently inform him I would do anything for a quick handful of cash.

“You a cop?” he asked. In his mind, he only gave me a one percent chance of working in law enforcement. To him, I didn’t even look old enough to be out of high school.

I scoffed weakly, “Fuck no.”

He paused for a few seconds, considering. “How much?”

Now it was my turn to pause because I had not a single damn clue how much I should say I charge, “How much you got?”

“Don’t fuck with me, kid. I’ll walk right now.”

“Ummm. . .” I was trying to come up with an amount he would believe to be typical when I saw the number “100” float to the surface of his mind like the little blue pyramid inside a Magic 8-Ball.

“Eighty,” I offered.

“For what?” He didn’t believe eighty would cover everything he wanted to do to me.

“Anything you want,” I whispered, making full eye contact with him for the first time.

An excited gleam appeared in Galen’s eyes then. I was cheaper than he expected. “Where you wanna go?” he asked, “Place down the street?”

Sickened by his enthusiasm, I shook my head, “I know a better place we can go for free.”

“If it’s some methlab or crackhouse, no thanks.”

“It’s not. I promise. There’s no one there at night. It’s a music studio. I have a key.”

Galen was little wary since he had almost always taken his boys to the nearby hotel, and this felt to him like it could be a set-up. Images flowed through his mind, like one where the two of us walk inside the darkness of the unlit studio where two or three of my friends jump him, beat the shit out of him and steal his money; or there was the possibility I was participating in a sting operation with the police. He’d heard they sometimes used teenagers in drug stings, but so far had never heard of the Dallas Vice Squad using them.

But he looked at my pretty face and slender body and decided I was just too good of a deal to pass up. He escorted me on the short walk to his Camry which was parked next to a meter displaying its red “expired” flag.

I told him which way to go. As he pulled out, he wagged his finger at me, saying, “Now I haven’t said anything incriminating, you just remember that... and if anybody else happens to be at this music studio, you just keep in mind that I’ve got a gun on me and if anyone tries anything it’s gonna be a fuckin’ bloodbath.”

I turned my head to the right, pretending to look out the window so Galen wouldn’t see the grin forming on my face.

Me big man. Me whoop ass. Me Tarzan, you Jim.

I wasn’t concerned about his alleged gun.
Homey
wasn’t strapped.

We didn’t converse for the rest of the brief ride up to the studio. When we got to the front door, I felt Galen’s uneasiness triple when I reached inside the bush on the left and produced Bob’s secret key.

“You sure you’re allowed to be here?”

“How else would I know where the key is?” I replied, “This place belongs to my Uncle Willy...”

Why in the hell did I say that? I had meant to say Uncle Bob, but Willy had come out instead. I shunted the thought out of my head, trying to focus. This was a critical stage in my plan and I couldn’t fuck it up.

I quickly broadscanned the area as I inserted the key and unlocked the deadbolt. No one was inside the studio.

Thankyougodthankyougodthankyougod               

I turned the knob and pushed the door open with my shoulder. The little security panel next to the door started bitching at me with a high pitched but low volume chirping. My hand swiftly found the white box and silenced it with the suffix of Bob’s social security number.

When Galen saw I had the security code to this place memorized, it eased his tension considerably. He closed the door behind him and refastened the deadbolt with his ungloved hand. Good. The cops would see his fingerprints and not mine. I didn’t know why I liked that idea so much. I’d probably figure it out later. Galen was getting horny and being the object of his lust made me loathe him all that much more.

“This way,” I said as I walked into the hallway that led to the basement, keeping up a fast pace to stay ahead of him, all too aware of his desire to fondle and molest me.

I silently prayed the door to the basement wouldn’t be locked like last time. I couldn’t think of a reason that it would be since obviously no one was recording at midnight. But when I tried the knob, it gave only a little, even after jiggling it.

Click-click. Clickclickclickclick. Click-click.

Galen’s body was up against me then. His hands roamed over my shoulders and down my sides.

“You know,” he whispered, “We could just do it here.” His hands went up my hips and around to my stomach, sliding underneath my t-shirt, “I don’t mind.”

Well I sure as hell the fuck do!!!
I wanted to scream at him, and was just barely able to contain the outburst. I wanted to pull out one of the knives I’d brought and plant it in his beer belly, then lift upwards, reach inside and pull all his guts out. After that, I’d probably just start slicing, stabbing and filleting until I felt satiated.

But if I followed that plan I would be drenched in so much blood I wouldn’t make it ten feet out the door without someone noticing me.

After I didn’t respond to his advances and kept fiddling with the knob, Galen sighed and pulled out his wallet. He plucked out a credit card and said, “Let me show you something, kid.”

I moved aside to let him work. He pushed the door back as far as it would go, maybe a quarter of an inch, but it was enough to let the card through. When the card was in, he pulled the door back towards him and turned the knob.

And the door to the studio opened with the greatest of ease.

“If this were a modern building with modern doors, that trick wouldn’t have worked,” Galen explained with a sly smile, “But this place looks like it’s at least thirty years old.”

I brushed past him through the door and felt his hot breath against my face. Whatever he had eaten for dinner, it was easy to tell onions had been part of the recipe. He followed me past the sound booth and into the recording studio.

I felt like that old proverbial spider, approaching the fluttering moth who struggles valiantly against the webbing. At last, Galen had entered the center of my web. All I had to do was wait for the best moment to nail him.

But in the meantime, I sure as hell didn’t want to endure anything like I had in childhood. He was looking at me intently while he unbuckled his belt. I had to think of a way to stall him.

I turned around and looked at him, trying to act coy, “So would you like a spanking or anything before we get started? Maybe you’d like me to tie you up?”

That would just be way too perfect
, I thought.     

“I ain’t into that shit, kid,” Galen replied, “This is the part where you pull down your pants and bend over.”

While this was disappointing, I was prepared for that exact answer. “Well, you’re not gonna fuck me dry, are you?”

Galen dropped his jeans and briefs down to where they were resting around his ankles, the upper halves of the gray, reptile-skin cowboy boots protruded above the white underwear which sat atop the navy blue denim which still had the black imitation leather belt sitting inside the loops.

“I don’t got any lube on me, but if you do, be my guest,” he answered.

I walked towards him and reached into my pocket, fully cognizant that Galen’s legs were currently immobilized. I pulled out a tube of lubricating jelly—well, at least the label
said
it was a lubricant. After I’d bought it from the local drugstore, I emptied the tube and replaced the contents with something I’d found under the kitchen sink among Doris’ cleaning supplies.

Galen’s five-incher was staring at me from between the tails of his button-down shirt.

“How about I put it on for you?” I offered.

“Eh, sure,” he said, “But first thing’s first.” He pulled out a condom, “No offense, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna catch anything offa you.”

And while he concentrated on opening the plastic square package, I took the opportunity to pull a rag out of my other pocket. I put both hands behind my back. My right thumb flipped the tube open while my left held the rag as the contents of the tube were evacuated into it.

Galen’s head perked up, “What’s that smell?”

Then... I fell on him.

Gnashing my teeth, I shot my hands out from behind me. One reached for his hair so I could hold his head, while the ammonia-soaked cloth in my other hand covered his nose and mouth.

For the first full second or so, Galen was so utterly stunned he had no concept of what was taking place. The ammonia was seeping from the cloth into my glove and my hand was getting cold. (It’s amazing the things you notice when your adrenaline is up and time slows down like this.)

His arms came up, trying to push me away from him. I placed one foot behind his leg and pushed him forward, making sure when he fell, I fell with him so the rag never left his face. When we landed I felt his breath get knocked out of him, which forced him to take a big gulp of air through the rag. I thought I was surely victorious. He should fall asleep at any moment; just like in the movies!

But Galen kept fighting. He punched me a few times, once across the jaw, a few in the ribs, but then he got smart and tried to use his brute strength to pry my hand away from his face. In return, my knees shot up like a piston and rammed his naked, unprotected testicles. Galen took another large inhalation of ammonia fumes. His eyes rolled up slowly... And he lay still. The rodeo bullride was over with. 

I scanned him to make sure he wasn’t faking. Satisfied Galen was unconscious, I got off him and went to work.

*          *          *

When Galen woke, he found himself sitting upright on the floor. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t able to move his arms or legs. But as his mind emerged further, closer to the surface of lucid reality, he realized his arms and legs were pulled spread-eagle away from his torso. And he had a screaming headache.

Didn’t that kid say he wanted to tie me up?
he thought. The memory of what had happened just before he’d fallen asleep hit him and Galen snapped awake.

He struggled to move his limbs, but found himself completely unable to adjust them any more than a half-inch. He saw thick black cords wrapped several times around each ankle and wrist. He realized he was still naked from the waist down and the hardwood floor was cold, but what felt especially cold was his crotch.

Feels like he put a fucking icepack down there,
he thought to himself, then out loud: “Where are you!!! What the fuck didja do to me?”

Shit, it hurts to talk! Feels like someone poured gasoline down my throat and chased it with a lit match.
He couldn’t see much. I only allowed one light to shine in the studio and it was attached to a thin adjustable stand which I’d placed behind his unsupported back. The light bulb was shining down directly onto Galen’s bald spot.