Evolution

by Sam Kadence

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “The photographer for Teen Celebs said it looked pretty cool.”

  “Was he blind?”

  “No, he seemed to see all right.”

  Kerstrande groaned and slid to a slouch. “He was humoring you.”

  “So you don’t like it?” I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice but was pretty sure he could tell.

  “No. You look like a circus clown.”

  “What’s your favorite color? I can change it.”

  “Don’t bother.” The writhing mass grew, and it almost seemed to enshroud him for a moment before flickering back to just his face.

  “I can sing for you. Make the shadows go away.”

  “No. Stop stalking me, would you? I don’t need a kid like you following me around.” He got up and headed down the path. I didn’t try to go after him. His words stung too much. I headed back to my car, praying for some bit of normalcy to return to my life, even if it was a repeating ghost jumping in front of a cab.

  I sat there staring into the dark until the bit of pink crumpled paper on the passenger seat caught my attention. Oh yeah, the flyer from Joel’s car. I straightened it and was shocked at the horrific picture of a man on fire with several long poles sticking out of him. It was from Preservation Group, an anti-vampire advertisement. The burning vampire couldn’t have been executed legally, since the federal government didn’t allow torture, and he’d been tortured as though the fire wasn’t enough. The image made me ill. Why had they put this on Joel’s car? Were they aiming for mine? Did they know what I could see?

  My heart pounded in fear. I dumped the flyer in a garbage can as I drove by. Were they watching me right now? What would they do if they found me out alone like this at night? I drove home a little faster than normal.

  Home was no less dark or lonely. Same as it’d been since I’d met Kerstrande. The microwave beeped, finished with my TV dinner, and then the phone rang. I pressed the talk button and yanked the hot plastic tray out onto the counter. “Hey, Rob.”

  “Thought I’d call to check on you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Devon called.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Said you haven’t been returning his calls. He sounded strange.”

  “I’ve been busy.” And Devon had gotten so dark, like something was eating him from the inside out. It was hard to watch, and I knew no one else could see it but me.

  A few seconds of silence lingered until he said, “Did you see him again?”

  I didn’t answer. The plastic peeled easily from the tray, and I mixed the potatoes and gravy.

  “Genesis, you know I’m your friend, right?”

  The sigh escaped my throat before I could stop it. “I get it, okay? I just need you to get it. I like him. Like I like the color red and the taste of chili dogs. I can’t help it. So maybe I’m not normal like you. I’m sorry.”

  “You always say you’re sorry, Gene. But are you really? Think about our future. Gay singers are musical suicide. Besides, he insults you, treats you like crap. You should just let him go.”

  He also kissed me like we could hold each other forever, like he accepted who I was and didn’t care how weird my life could be. “I can’t change who I am.”

  “Do you have to be so open about it? Find someone not in the public eye. Keep it low.” Rob sighed. “There’s a press thing on Friday. There will be girls there, even models. Maybe you just haven’t found the right girl yet.”

  He really had no idea. I wonder what he’d do if he ever met Cris, the one man I had slept with on a semiregular basis. Would Rob demand I quit the band? Would he leave? “Night, Rob.”

  I hung up the phone and turned off the ringer. Sometimes it was hard to be his friend. But I guess it was probably hard to be my friend too. After picking up the tray, I headed for the futon to relax in front of the TV. Maybe I’d play some games before bed. Give my head some time to clear.

  Bam! Bam! The door jumped at the force. My tray landed with a splat, food-side down. “Damn.”

  When I opened the door I expected to find some persistent reporter, but Kerstrande stood in the hallway, looking haunted, but shadows gone. Thankfully nothing lingered but us. Not even the nosy ghost from 18B who often rambled drunkenly through the halls at night.

  Kerstrande shoved his way into the room, slammed the door shut, and kissed me before I could blink. Lips, tongue, and full open-mouthed kiss that felt like he was trying to devour me. The stubble on his chin was a total turn-on. I briefly wondered how that roughness would feel elsewhere and knew there was no way he could mistake how happy I was to be pressed against him. Damn his hot and cold moods, they made me dizzy, but I’d take what I could get.

  When he finally pulled away, my legs barely held me up. He dropped to his knees and hugged me around the waist. “They said it would be this way,” he grumbled against my stomach.

  “Who said what would be what way?” The question itself confused me.

  Kerstrande leaned back and whipped the lock closed, then looked at me in a way my dream version of him never had. “You want me, right?”

  Duh. “Yeah.”

  “So here I am. And here you are. We have this nice little—” He glared at the futon. “It’ll do.”

  I glanced at my makeshift bed too. It turned my mind into a mushy blur of white and red thoughts. “Am I going to pass out again?”

  He peeled off his shirt. He worked out, had to; Robert worked out every day and didn’t look that good without his shirt. The curved outlines of Kerstrande’s abs, the dark pink nipples on a near hairless chest—

  Had he said something? “What?”

  “I asked if you felt fuzzy.”

  “No.” I had to drag my eyes away from him before I could get to work on cleaning up my fallen meal. It had cost four seventy-five. One of the better microwavable ones, and the last of its kind in my freezer. At least payday was coming soon.

  Kerstrande gripped my shirt and pulled me away from the mess. “Forget it—do it later.”

  “It will smell and stain the floor. I have to clean it up.” Besides, I was still hungry.

  “Forget it.” This time his tone was more forceful. Something trekked through my brain but passed as quickly as it came. A glance up brought his crotch to eye level. Tan dress pants, somewhat loose in the legs, and the button unfastened. My mouth watered. Would he let me trace the outline of him through those pants? Did he go commando or wear some cute briefs?

  I realized after a moment I’d been fiercely rubbing an unaffected area of the tile and quickly finished wiping up the mess. I ate the chicken. It tasted fine, screw whoever made the five-second rule.

  Kerstrande let me go and sat on the futon, shirtless, appealing, looking like a fantasy come to life. I threw the towel in the hamper and lingered a little too long on the chicken bone before tossing it out and washing my hands. Finally, I turned back to him, thinking I had some sort of cool resolve put in place.

  He’d fallen back on the futon, arms stretched over his head, feet on the floor, knees spread, a trail of golden hairs leading down into the half-loosened zipper. Water…. I fumbled for the pitcher and gulped down twelve ounces before he spoke again.

  His expression relaxed and odd, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  With a heavy sigh he patted the tiny space between his body and the wall. “Come here, Genesis.”

  He said my name, not pop star or brat. Those things had almost become terms of endearment to me. Somehow I made it to the bed without falling down. He obviously hadn’t expected me to obey, since he looked shocked for a few seconds before reaching to push my tight T-shirt up.

  A smile cracked my face from ear to ear. “You said my name.”

  “Was that all it took? Saying your name?” His fingers felt warm on my chest. Much more of this and I’d bust without even getting naked.

  “Say it again, and I’ll do anything you want.”

&
nbsp; “Really?” He drew out the word like it made him think of something. “All right, Genesis.” My name floated from his lips like a soft caress. He kissed my cheek, then my neck, and finally rested his lips against the bruise above my collarbone. “Feel nice?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  He shoved me backward, rolled over to pin me to the bed, and held both my wrists in his grasp. Fuzziness began to fill my sight. I fought that scattering consciousness, not wanting to lose another encounter with him. If we were really going to have sex, I wanted to be awake for it.

  “Stop fighting me,” he told me. The shadows in his face darkened, flaring back to life. They poured over me like a suffocating fog, and I couldn’t breathe. Fear forced me to freeze in place, sucking in tiny bits of air. “Now you’re afraid? You pursued me until I want to strangle you, hold you down, and pound into you. Now here I am, and you don’t want me.” He sounded frustrated, but I couldn’t see him through the charcoal mist until it began to edge away.

  “I do so want you. You just got really dark, that’s all. The shadows make it hard to breathe.”

  He stilled, eyes studying my face; the anger grew more subtly this time. I watched it build while tiny shadows curled around the edges of his skin. Small changes in light, some would say, but I knew what to look for.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you angry. Maybe I can sing for you?” Maybe then the shadows would ease and he’d go back to his not-so-subtle seduction.

  He laughed so hard he had to roll away from me. The fuzziness flowed away, as did the shadows in his face. The sound changed, but he had his head down. Was he crying? What happened? Was it wrong to still hope for sex when he was upset? How did I fix what I didn’t know was broken?

  After a few seconds, I wrapped my arms around his head, holding him tight against my chest, while he let out whatever it was that he’d held back for so long. Time passed. His sobbing ended. I ignored the tears to allow him to salvage some of his pride. Neither of us said anything. I began to doze.

  Finally he whispered, “You’re not normal.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I asked into the earthy smell of his hair where I’d buried my face.

  Silence again. Shrugging the blankets up around his shoulders, I snuggled in beside him, fitting my body to his. No reason for either of us to be lonely. He stiffened at first, then finally relaxed, laying his head next to mine on the single pillow.

  “I’m sorry I can’t make all your troubles go away.”

  His hand found my stomach, caressing in slow circles that inched lower. “Doesn’t matter.”

  It did to me. I sucked in a deep breath. He didn’t seem to want me to touch him back, his body going tense each time I did. Yet he continued to explore, fingers running over my flesh like it was the first time he’d touched another person. His hand stopped less than an inch from where I wanted it to be, resting on my upper thigh.

  “Are you tired, Kerstrande?” I asked. “I can turn off the lamp so we can sleep.” Or help you of out those horribly teasing pants.

  “You want to sleep?” He sounded confused.

  “I want to do whatever you want me to do.”

  “And if I want things other than sleep?”

  Yes, please. “Anything.”

  The silence returned again, then he said, “Turn off the lamp, Genesis.”

  I reached over his head and flicked the light off, plunging my little apartment into total darkness. Kerstrande was warm and comfortable, like a huge extra-firm pillow. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his hips to mine. “Sleep,” he said. “We could both use the rest.”

  “Okay.” And we did, though it took me longer to fall asleep than him.

  Chapter 8

  RINGING awoke me. Hadn’t I turned off the phone? I grumbled when it continued into the fourth and fifth ring.

  “What the hell do you want?” a deep voice swore into the phone. My mind swam up from sleepy happiness to recognize that voice—Kerstrande—and that the phone pressed to his ear was his cell phone.

  “It’s none of your business.” A pause, then, “That’s not my problem. I never asked for this.” Another pause. “I tried that already.” Another pause, this one longer; then a sigh. “So deal with it.”

  I rolled the covers back. My apartment was still pitch-black. I fumbled for the lamp. Something hung over the window. Tears washed the sleep from my eyes at the light’s brightness.

  The storm clouds gathered on Kerstrande’s face again. “He’s sleeping.” He glanced at me. “No. I’m not waking him just so you can threaten him.” Noise came from the other side of the line, like someone was shouting. “So lay the instrumental tracks today and do the vocals tomorrow.”

  Tracks? Vocals? Shit! The clock flipped to just before noon. I sat up and grabbed for the phone to beg and grovel my way back into my boss’s good graces. Kerstrande pushed me flat on the bed.

  “Just deal,” was the last thing he said before snapping the phone shut and tossing it aside. He gave me an irritated glance. “What?”

  “Was that Mr. Tokie?”

  “Yes.”

  I leapt for my cardboard dresser, only to be yanked back into bed with Kerstrande pinning me to the mattress. Now was not a good time to play. “He’ll drop our contract, and I’ll be stuck a nobody living off ramen forever. My friends need me to be there. Let me up, KC.”

  “No.”

  “Please.”

  “Three months is not enough time to complete a debut worth anything. Triple Flight took a whole year to produce Flat Line, which spent more than a year at number one. Besides, when was the last time you got more than four hours of sleep?”

  I pushed at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t afford to rest. When I’m not at the studio, I’m waiting tables and being groped by guys at a club to pay for this grand home of mine. But I guess not having money to eat and keep a roof over your head is something you’d never understand.”

  He let me go. I rolled out from under him and dug for clean clothes, then changed behind the screen. My heart pounded like some crazy hip-hop beat whenever he was around. There had to be more to my life than just Kerstrande Petterson. The sad thing was that everything else was just an obligation, not a desire. No one else treated me like I wasn’t a freak, touched me like I was really a person, and didn’t run away when they knew what I saw.

  Kerstrande stepped around the screen to glare at me, not caring that I was struggling into a shirt and not yet wearing pants. “I see. You’re worried you’ll be branded gay and the label won’t want you anymore? Didn’t have to worry about that with Saxon holding your leash, did you? Seeing as how he’s got quite the eye for men himself. But then you’re always aiming for the rich and powerful ones, like the model who visited you at the club the other night.”

  My heart stopped for a painful second. This was the judgment I’d been receiving my whole life. It hurt so much hearing it come from him. “You know nothing. They are my friends, that’s it. And as for being branded gay. I am gay and proud of it. It’s your fucking label that’s trying to shove it in the closet by bitchin’ about my hair and putting female pronouns in my songs. I’m not the one hiding what I am.”

  “When you traveled with Wild Park, no one took interest in your group because they assumed you were Saxon’s boy toy. You dropped him fast enough when you met me. You’ve chased me for weeks, not caring what you did to my reputation. The world thinks we’re lovers whether we are or not. They believe you were with Saxon before me, that he was your sugar daddy. Does any of that matter to you?”

  “Devon and I never—” He’d never even asked me on a date. I’d always sort of seen him as the older brother I’d never had.

  “Doesn’t matter, kid. The world sees what it wants to see.” He picked up his shirt and put it on, leaving his back to me. “You swim in the fishbowl and they craft your life for you.”

  I finished dressing, wiping annoying tears from my cheeks. Maybe that’s why Rob kept Devon and I a
part. And now Kerstrande, who didn’t like me at all, felt trapped, forced to me by the media. “I’m sorry. All I ever wanted was to sing.” And maybe love a little. Why was that so much to ask? Why wasn’t it okay to just be me?

  He stood a few feet away, the light from the lamp shading him with a black silhouette, ominous but beautiful. He was so beautiful it made my heart hurt even more.

  “You’re pretty clueless. Probably the best way to become a pop star.” We stood in silence, him refusing to look at me and me moving toward the door. “A crappy way to begin a relationship, though.”

  I slid into my shoes. “Can’t have a relationship if it’s only one-sided.” Leaving felt like running, but I had nothing else to do but move forward as I always did. “Let yourself out, and don’t worry about locking the door. I have nothing valuable to steal.”

  He said nothing as I left. I trudged down the stairs, feeling four hundred pounds heavier and terrified of the one thing that had never scared me before—being alone. How could I have grown accustomed to having him around so quickly? What if the studio didn’t want me anymore, since I was obviously not willing to be quiet about my homosexuality? What if the guys didn’t want me in the band now? What else could I do with my life? How alone would I be without the band, the music, and Kerstrande?

  Arriving at the studio didn’t lighten my mood. Rob didn’t remark about the tear-stains on my face. Joel just gave me a hug and an ice cream sandwich. I worked hard, sang what they told me to, and pretended the world didn’t exist outside the music. It worked for a while. Devon called at lunch to ask me to dinner. I wondered if it would have been a date and why I’d never seen him like that. But I did turn him down and texted Cris instead, who immediately seemed to sense a change even from a text message. I had to put him off until later, though he kept pinging my phone.

  Mr. Tokie pulled me aside just before it was time to go and gave me a note. It read:

  Have a nice life, pop star.

  Kerstrande Petterson

  The words took a few minutes to sink in. Though it was written on REA letterhead, I knew his writing. Had I really messed up or what? Maybe if I’d called him, apologized for leaving in a huff. I dunno. So this was it? The end of whatever Kerstrande and I could have built felt a lot like my heart breaking. Pain walloped my chest, and I struggled not to fall to the floor in a heap of quivering tears. Not like I hadn’t seen it coming.