King Perry (39 page)

Perry slides off his rock and begins looking around, searching for something.

Duck!

I’m happy that the Mill Valley couple helped me test out this hiding spot. As soon as I saw them wandering around here, I could tell he was military. He scanned the landscape the way men who have been in wars sometimes do. I was doubly pleased his girlfriend was named Amanda, because I had been thinking of that name earlier in the week. She was sweet, though I doubt they would have been so helpful if they had seen my two gallons of piss.

“
You’re still here.
” Perry’s voice rings out sharp and loud.

He laughs. “I can feel you, Vin. I know you’re still here.”

He laughs harder, because while he believes it in his head now, he also
knows
it. And knowing a thing that is impossible to know, well, nothing is more exciting.

It’s like recognizing the cellist is actually the painter’s son, or seeing a Tired Mom stand proud and believing you know why. It’s like an Alcatraz guard offering a beer to a Human Ghost because he knows an impossible truth:
I’m not alone tonight
. That’s possibly the biggest thrill of all, recognizing not-aloneness. When this occurs, the brain looks to the heart with newfound appreciation, saying, “I thought I was the only one who could figure stuff out.”

“You’re still here,” Perry roars, full of joy. “You crazy fucker, you never left. Just like my dad.”

Perry stops and puts his hands over his eyes.

He is silent for a moment.

“It worked,” Perry cries, his voice trembling. “
It totally fucking worked.
It’s not about him dying anymore, it’s about me. I don’t even know what you did to me, but it worked!”

I do not answer.

“
It worked, Vin.
”

Perry laughs more, stopping to wipe his face on his sleeve.

He says, “I wasn’t sure if you heard that the first time, so I thought I’d repeat it. I bet I don’t have to shout, do I? You’re not far. Of course you’re not far.”

He switches directions every other sentence. He repeats himself a few times, but I can easily piece together what he’s saying as long as his back isn’t to me. I should snap a twig—nah. Bad idea. He might try to come over here.

He says, “You know how I know you’re still here? The birthday cake.”

He waits for a reply but receives none.

“I was sitting there just now, thinking about how she was another person you screwed over, and maybe I could find her. Then I realized my name, P-R-Y, fit right in the middle of her last name. Then I thought about how twice,
twice
you emphasized the spelling of her name, worried you spelled it wrong in the frosting, and then that stupid thing with her middle initial. You tricked me into memorizing her name.”

“I knew you dropped that cake on purpose,
you fucking
Ghost
,” Perry calls out, and he laughs again. “There is no Marie N. Grypn. She’s an anagram.”

He waits.

Perry says loudly, “At one point on Tuesday, you asked a question about my best childhood birthday present. You asked the weirdest questions of anyone I’d ever met, Vin. Swear to God, I was half-repulsed by you the first time we met. But you were already drilling me for information, trying to find out my age when he died.”

He laughs hard for a moment and then catches himself. His face winces and gets soft, this time without him fighting it every step of the way.

“You were right; I was nine. My tenth birthday sucked. Because of the medical bills, I didn’t get any good presents, but worse was how much of a brat—”

He turns to face the exact opposite way.

Crap. Now I’m going to have to ask him to repeat that part tomorrow. C’mon, Perry, look around. Nobody could hide over there.
It’s a mountain cliff.

He finally turns my way.

“… cruise ship, didn’t I? But we never went. We couldn’t afford it.”

He pauses and then says, “Sometimes there is no other cake.”

Perry stops and sits on the ground for a while, his head in his hands. The wind still lashes him regularly, but he stays this way for a long time. Every now and then he scratches his ankle or wipes his sleeve across his face. I finally get to see him when at last he raises his head to watch the moon. How can a person look tan under moonlight?

For his entertainment, Li’l Shirley dances a few solid inches across the sky. Beyond her reach, the Big and Little Dippers ascend, a father and son team who have managed to never abandon each other. A few million years in our universe’s future, they will, as all fathers and sons must. But not tonight. Shirley’s nameless husband tickles the ocean, his personal baby grand, each sparkling reflection a recently plunked key. This ebony musician plays the ocean’s great medley, a never-ending tribute to the life glowing within.

Perry stands, walks around to shake out his legs, checks on Mr. Quackers. He stretches his arms, pulling one then the other, leaning against the rock and pushing as if preparing for jogging. He looks at the sky.

“More than half the night is gone, Vin. I don’t know about you, but I am fucking exhausted.”

He stares at the sky in every direction before he speaks again.

“I feel amazing. I want to stay awake and experience this, I do, but I also feel like I got run over by a truck. I—

“
Thank you, Vin Vanbly
,” Perry screams at the top of his lungs.

Silence.

“Fine, be that way. I can honest-to-God feel you, Vin. Is this king energy? Is that what this is?”

When he gets no reply, he shakes his head and says, “God, you can be irritating.”

After a moment, Perry says again, “I’m exhausted.”

He does sound exhausted. But exhausted is good sometimes, with an
x
like a pillow so that the whole word can lie down. You can trust an
x
to keep you safe. It’s not as dramatic as
g
or
q
or regal as capital
R
. But it’s a surprisingly strong letter.

“Mr. Quackers turned in a while ago. I’m going to bed too, if you don’t object. And I know,” he stops speaking for a moment, but then says, “I know you’re going to watch over me, Vin. You wouldn’t let down a king brother, I know that now. Especially not the Forgiver King.”

This prompts him to choke up, and he rubs the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. After a moment, he chuckles and wipes his face again.

“I love the king name. You don’t even know the half of it, why it’s so perfect. But it hurts a bit, actually. Good hurt. None of my friends are going to believe this. What happened to me? I feel—”

Perry looks around in every direction, perhaps waiting for me to emerge, but I don’t think so. I suspect he’s drinking in the rocks, the sky, the ocean reflecting faraway moonlight. He zips the sleeping bag back together, restoring its original purpose. He checks on Mr. Quackers. He drinks more bottled water and sits on the bag.

“I sure hope that somehow I wake up right before dawn because honestly, I totally want to see the sunrise,
dude
. But I’m worried about oversleeping because I’m really, really tired right now.”

He pauses and looks around the hills, waiting for a reply. He cups his hands to his mouth. “
Yes, I sure hope something wakes me up for this king dawn. If I’m presumptuous right now, forgive me. See? I’m already workin’ the word, you damn bear
.”

Perry strips off his pants. Right when they’re at his ankles, he stands up straight and looks around again. He grins and kicks them off. He unbuttons his shirt and slides the hunter green over his left shoulder, slowly rotating and caressing the bare skin, gyrating his ass in every direction. Gyrating? Is that the right word?

Who cares—it’s sexy as fuck.

He pulls up the heavy undershirt over his pecs, his flat stomach exposed. He rubs his hands up and down his solid chest in lazy circles, as if showering for me. He peels the sexy blue briefs down an inch or two, so the top of his pubic thatch is visible, and he stops, hooking his thumbs over the waistband and pulling them a sconch lower so I see the base of his fat dick right at the top. Of course, he has to turn in each direction as he pretends to shower, unsure of my exact location.

My cock is getting hard.

He yells, “
Sure would be fun to have sex right now
.”

He knows I can hear him at normal volume, but this louder tone is more hilarious.

“I’m so horny I will have sex with anyone who can hear my voice. Anyone? I’m right here.”

He slips the underwear lower, and his fat dick bobs out. It’s not a porn star cock, but it’s his and I love him, so the sight of it makes blood rush to my face. He’s such a great kisser, and I loved sucking him off in Alcatraz. My Alcatraz King!

He stops.

“But Vin, seriously, whatever you want. This is your show. However you want this to go down is cool with me.”

He nods, apparently satisfied. He lifts up the shirttail on his final slow circle, dancing to a slow groove only he hears. The two globes of his gym butt jiggle as he sways from side to side. Damn. That ass. He is definitely fucking with me, knowing I’m not coming for him tonight.

He says, “I do believe I’ll have that last piece of bruschetta now.”

While snickering over his great joke and my apparent inability to do anything about it, he moves to the plastic baggie, looks around, and pretends to inhale big smells coming from inside. He attempts to pull out the last piece and jerks his hand away, shaking it off.

“It’s still hot,” he says. “Wow, can you believe that? Almost burned my hand.”

Fucker.

He chomps a big bite for my benefit, resuming his sexy, slow dance in all directions, licking his fingers and shaking his ass. With his free hand, he pulls off the remaining shirt.

“So delicious, but I don’t know if I can finish it. I may throw the rest in the dirt.”

I can’t believe he’s taunting me with food. And sex. Boy, the next few hours will make me crazy, my cock hard and waiting for him to wake up. God, I love him.

Perry immediately forgets his threat and finishes the bruschetta with deliciousness-inspired groans. After making a big show of sucking each fingertip, Perry crawls into the sleeping bag, fussing the blanket into his pillow and wrapping part of it around his exposed arm. During tonight’s mountaintop drama, I bet we both forgot how fucking cold the wind is at this height. Of course, I’ve got my ski mask and black gloves, so I’m okay.

After only a moment, he struggles out again, standing naked in a small patch of dirt and calling to the woods with his hands by his mouth.

“Also, I’m interested to know who you hired to follow us here and drive away our van. That’s pretty damn sick. I was waiting for the next big trick, but you still nailed me.”

Satisfied with this salutation goodnight, he returns to the sleeping bag, snuggling himself deeper.

After a few minutes he calls out, “Oh man, my cock is so hard right now.”

I guffaw into my hands, muffling any sound.

“Is there a Back Massage King?” he yells without leaving the sleeping bag. “Please tell me he’s among the Found Kings because
I broke my fucking lungs
crying so hard a while ago.”

Perry knows I’m laughing behind a rock.

“Back Rub King? You out there, buddy?”

He’s quiet for about two minutes.

“
I know you’re wearing a ski mask
.”

He makes a few more of these quips, but they get quieter, and more time lapses in between. Perry dozes and then sits up. He rubs his eye and says in a loud tenor, “I love you, Vin Vanbly.”

Perry lowers himself, and he does not move. I believe he’s asleep almost immediately.

Li’l Shirley, the wriggling ocean, and a baby duck are the sole witnesses to our nightlife. Perry has left us, perhaps already in a reunion long overdue, near the river Styx, where sad memories melt into something greater, a richer river of love.

Nineteen

N
OW
that Perry is found, I feel my entire body relax. I love this night, the early morning hours. Everyone gathers, all the kings from every land, in eager anticipation to welcome back the newest brother. This inky night feels rich with royal secrets and wispy love, preparations for the feast of homecoming. I feel honored to be able to escort a king through the eastern gates, back to the Found Ones.

Perry made it through so many slippery spots along the weekend when he might have said, “No more.” But he never quit, even when he quit, because his heart simultaneously urged a deeper message, subtler and more desperate, tired of its strange captivity. I think he stayed because the biggest forgiveness needed wasn’t for his father. I don’t think Perry had forgiven himself for feeling so devastated, for letting one man’s departure hurt so damn much.

Okay.

Okay, kings, you win.

I’ll give Billy a few minutes’ consideration.

I’m sorry. I’m trying to be open here.

You tired of—

Quit running that line. Let it go, let it go.

Billy had a hard life, I’m sure. I can picture the weary wrinkles down his face, like faded rings on a long-dead tree trunk. His uneven crop of angular whiskers, his dirty gray hair. I can still remember his gray eyes that wouldn’t ever look at you directly, blue-gray really, just like mine. I know how this goes: someone abused him, so he’s an innocent victim turned into the bad guy himself, trapped by destiny, so he and his poker buddies rape kids. Maybe his poker buddies were the rapists and his job was to supply the kids. Maybe he only did it for money or something.