Page 22 of Surface Scratch
“Sooo,” Tariq began, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “You and Marcus…?”
There it was. Caleb was thankful for the cover of the darkness and his hoodie to hide his face. “Yeah…” His voice trailed off. “Is that a problem?”
Tariq let out a loud laugh like he’d kicked his head back. “A problem? Oh my gosh, no, it’s great. Marcus when he’s distracted by a shiny new toy is the best, and it’s been forever since that’s happened.”
Caleb furrowed his brow, stopping dead in his tracks. Vincent’s voice echoed in his head, “It’s a shame to leave such a pretty thing with a beast that likes to break his toys.” And then Marcus’s face when he had confronted him. He’d looked angry when Caleb used that same term: toy.
Tariq cocked an eyebrow at him, stopping him in the middle of the sidewalk. “You good?”
“Can I ask you something? Something about Marcus?” Caleb asked. Tariq shrugged. “So, remember my first night, when I got my shit pushed in by Vincent and his creepy friends?”
Some of the usual amusement on Tariq’s face fell away. “Yeah, man, I never really told you how sorry I was about that—”
“It’s not that,” Caleb said, cutting him off. Normally, he felt extremely guilty about cutting someone off, but his mind was zeroed in on that phrasing. “It’s about something Vincent said to me. He said that Marcus was ‘a beast that likes to break his toys.’ What did he mean by that?”
If some of the amusement had vanished from Tariq’s face before, any remnants instantly disappeared. His thick, dark eyebrows pinched together, his face visibly tight even through his thick, styled beard.
“He didn’t say anything about what that meant?” Tariq asked, his voice dead serious.
Caleb shook his head.
Tariq’s face relaxed somewhat. “You can’t tell him I told you,” he said, waiting for Caleb to nod before he continued. “His last four boyfriends died. All murdered. A lot of vicious rumors went around that being with him was the same as punching your own ticket. Some people even thought he murdered all of them.”
Caleb felt a lump in his throat and a frown forming across his face. No wonder he’d had such a visceral reaction to Caleb’s tirade.
“It’s not true, you know, about being with him. It was just a string of bad luck,” Tariq said. He gestured with the umbrella for them to keep walking. “He’s not perfect by any means, but he’s a great guy. He’s been my best friend for a very long time.”
Caleb sighed. He knew how cruel the rumor mill could be with limited information. About a dozen different rumors about why the car accident happened had circulated through the school, probably a majority of them started by Adam and his friends. He felt like he owed Marcus another apology, but Tariq said not to mention anything to him. He supposed he would wait until Marcus shared that information with him.
They were only a block up from Caleb’s apartment when Tariq stopped, glancing around before looking over his shoulder as though he were searching for something. “Do you often have a lot of people walking home at three in the morning around here?” he asked, his eyes fixated on something behind them.
“Around here? No, it’s mostly retirees and the disabled,” Caleb said. He turned and followed Tariq’s line of sight, squinting to see whoever was out there in the dark and the rain. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the visual, but then he saw them.
The outlines of four people appeared at the end of the block. They were unmoving, just sort of hanging back like they knew they had been spotted but didn’t care. He thought he saw the reflection of the streetlight against one of them wearing glasses, or sunglasses, but that wouldn’t make sense. Sunglasses in the rain, in the middle of the night?
One of the figures motioned toward the one in the sunglasses, and as abruptly as Tariq and Caleb had noticed them, all four turned in the opposite direction and rounded the corner out of sight.
“Well that’s weird,” Caleb muttered.
“Yeah, really fuckin’ weird,” Tariq said, his voice wary. He threw his arm back over Caleb’s shoulders and began walking again, this time a little faster than they had before. “Come on, Pinky, I’m going to make sure you get to your door in one piece. Lock up with a deadbolt tonight, yeah?”
Chapter Eight
When they had been inside the theater, he’d been fine despite the unending nervousness and mild confusion about the plot of the superhero film, but being inside the restaurant was making him hyperaware of everything his face was doing. Caleb pulled a few curls over his forehead, trying to flatten them over the scar tissue that ran through his eyebrow. Was it weird to feel like everyone was staring at him? Probably. He couldn’t help it, though. Sometimes he wondered if going fullPhantom of the Operawith a mask would be less unsightly.
“Come on, Caleb,” Marcus said from across the small table. He smirked, reaching over and brushing the curl back into place. “If I’m on a date with you, I want to see that beautiful face.”
Caleb blushed, staring down at the stack of pancakes he had managed to take a few bites out of.Busted. “I just don’t want to scare any small children or anything with it,” he admitted, stabbing at the sausage on his plate. He really wished he could eat more, but he’d had an obscene amount of popcorn and soda at the theater.
He was surprised that Marcus had picked a local breakfast place within walking distance of the nightclub and the theater for dinner, but he wasn’t complaining. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had pancakes. His usual breakfast consisted of dry cereal or toaster tarts, or he would outright skip it and opt for instant coffee. What he did manage to eat was divine though, and made him a little frightened to continue eating it. He didn’t want to get used to eating out.
“I’ve seen four children go past this table and not one batted an eye. You’re fine,” Marcus said. He took a sip of the thick red smoothie he had ordered as he reached out and grabbed Caleb’s free hand. “Don’t believe whatever voice in your head is telling you these lies. Listen to me, okay? You’ve met my daughter. People don’t become that blunt and abrasive by having patronizing parents.”
“I guess you’re right,” he admitted. He eyed Marcus’s hand on his before glancing around the restaurant, trying to see if anyone was looking in their direction.
It wasn’t just bigots who might cause them trouble he was concerned about, but the mystery group he and Tariq had noticed on the way home Friday night. He’d walked home the Saturday and Sunday by himself, and on both of those nights he could have sworn he saw the same group of people following him. He was pretty convinced it was his imagination making them feel so ominous and threatening, particularly because they stayed so far away they wouldn’t have been able to do anything to him without breaking into a dead sprint, but something about the whole situation rubbed him the wrong way. Had there been people walking the same way home as him the entire time and he’d never noticed?
That would have been a great way to get mugged.
