Trapped in Your Storm

by Darien Cox

  “Look at me.”

  Christian shifted toward Nolan and rested his elbow on the bar. “Fine, but don’t shoot the messenger. Elliot’s all about thinking kissing you ruined your friendship and screwed things up and now he just wants to go back to the way things were before.”

  Nolan turned away, eyes on the costumed dancers. “Okay.”

  Christian leaned in. “That’s it? Okay?”

  Shrugging, Nolan said, “I’m not gonna force the issue if it’s upsetting him. Besides. He has a point.”

  “Damn,” Christian said. “You guys sure give up easy.”

  A figure approached and slapped a hand on each of their shoulders. “Hey! Here’s my two favorite guys.”

  Nolan’s eyes narrowed. It was Brett Mallory, his dreadlocks tied in a bun on his head in the front, hanging loose in the back. He wore a colorful vest open in the front, no shirt beneath, his bare chest and stomach nicely chiseled. Love beads hung over a painted peace sign across his pecs. “Nice hippie costume,” Nolan said. “Really stepped outside your comfort zone.”

  “Come on now, don’t get nasty,” Brett said. “You’ll have ample call to hate me next week, I assure you. Tonight’s about fun!”

  “We don’t want to have fun with you,” Christian said. “You’re a cocky, deceitful pecker-stain.”

  Brett slapped his own bare chest. “But I’m fit, right? Gonna have to get you guys doing some PT so you can keep up with me. Maybe you won’t get your asses kicked so hard next time.”

  “We hung you out a third floor window,” Nolan said.

  “Right.” Brett grinned at Nolan. “But it took all of you to do so.”

  “Go away,” Christian said. “You’re ruining my buzz.”

  “Fine.” Brett swung his dreadlocks. “Plenty of friendly villagers for me to play with. Ta ta boys!”

  Brett danced off into the crowd, snapping his fingers. “He’s a weird fucker,” Nolan said.

  “Yeah. Can’t figure him out. Don’t want to. Oh hey, there’s our golden boy now.”

  The crowd broke into raucous cheers as Elliot stepped onto the stage set up on the far end of the room. Nolan immediately smiled at the sight. Elliot held a microphone in one hand, raising his arms over his head as the crowd shouted and cheered.

  “What the hell is he supposed to be?” Nolan asked.

  Christian laughed. “Nobody knows. He looks good though.”

  “Yeah,” Nolan said, heart clutching. “He does.”

  Elliot wore a silver shimmering tank top, the letters ‘PHA-Q’ etched across the front in black, with tight, electric blue spandex leggings. He was covered in glitter, his face, his arms, all shimmering under the club lights. A black mask was painted in a strip across his eyes, blond hair spiked up with glittered gel.

  “I love you, Elliot!” a male voice shouted from the crowd, and a cheer swelled.

  Elliot brought the microphone to his mouth. “So you want to know which one of you mutants won first prize?”

  Shouts rang from the crowd.

  “Yeah well too bad. Fuck you guys.” Elliot made as if to walk off the stage, and the crowd shouted obscenities. He turned back with a smile. “Okay fine! Settle down and shut the fuck up so I can announce our winners!”

  “Show us your tits!” someone shouted.

  Elliot feigned shock, placing a hand on his chest. The crowd laughed and cheered. Elliot brought the microphone to his mouth. “Bet you thought I wasn’t prepared for that,” he said. “But I’ve got glitter all over, baby!” Elliot lifted his shirt to the approval of the rowdy patrons, showing his bare stomach and chest were also covered in glitter.

  “Show us your balls!” someone shouted.

  Elliot dropped his shirt. “Sorry,” he said. “My glittered jewels are out of your price range, pal.”

  “Boooo!”

  Nolan laughed. In that moment, watching Elliot on stage in all his glory, the ache in Nolan’s heart lifted a little. This was his Elliot. His best friend. His other half. And though it hurt, Nolan knew he’d be willing to remain just friends with Elliot if that’s what it took to have him in his life. The Elliot onstage right now, relaxed, in his element…this was the Elliot Nolan adored. The guy he could party with and hang out with and stop by his house without invitation. Nolan couldn’t live without that connection, whatever the price.

  So he determined to make things right tonight. He wouldn’t bring up their argument. He wouldn’t ask to talk. He’d just be here. And behave like the friend he was.

  “Elliot is pretty adorable,” Christian said. “I guess I can see why you want to bang him.”

  “Shut up or I’ll pull your wig off.”

  Christian laughed then patted his lip. “Ouch. Don’t make me laugh.”

  Nolan ordered a drink, then watched as Elliot awarded third prize to a dead gladiator with a sword through his skull and half his brain leaking out. Second prize went to an elaborate female Hellraiser Cenobite in black leather. Then Elliot taunted the crowd. “So are we done?”

  “No!” they screamed.

  “Oh you want to know who got first prize?”

  “Yeah!”

  “Then please welcome to the stage, winner of Warden’s Boathouse Pub Halloween costume contest. Cockzilla!”

  Nolan’s brows rose as a creature broke through the crowd and ambled up on stage to applause. The bottom half of the costume was an elaborate Godzilla, green and scaly with a long, dragging tail. But from the neck up was a huge, erect, reptilian penis for a head, long swinging scrotum under the chin.

  “Well,” Christian said. “There’s something you don’t see every day.”

  Cockzilla walked over to Elliot then faced the cheering crowd, pumping its fists like a prize fighter.

  “So. Cockzilla,” Elliot said. “You won a day at the spa and a month’s worth of Arctic Angel’s Pissed Pumpkin Ale. How do you feel about that?”

  Elliot held the microphone in front of the mumbling penis head.

  “Sorry, didn’t quite get that. Say again?”

  Cockzilla reached up and removed the phallic headpiece. “I said can I trade it in for a kiss?”

  The crowd went wild, and Nolan’s eyes narrowed at the cute young head atop the Godzilla costume. Smooth amber skin. Gorgeous brown eyes.

  “Isn’t that Kip?” Christian said. “The kid Elliot was dating recently?”

  Nolan nodded.

  “Oh, wow,” Elliot said, clearly taken aback. He recovered and grinned at the crowd. “I know this dude.”

  “Yeah. You know me,” Kip said with a grin.

  “Come on now, Kip,” Elliot said. “These are great prizes.”

  “Still rather have a kiss from you,” Kip said, playing to the crowd, who’d begun chanting ‘Kiss him! Kiss him!’

  Elliot threw his arms up and shouted at the crowd, “Stop objectifying me!”

  “Noooo!”

  “Okay, fine,” Elliot said. He grabbed Kip’s chin and gave him a quick kiss. Kip tugged him back and gave Elliot a better, longer one, much to the approval of the crowd.

  Elliot disengaged and stepped back, laughing. “Now I feel like I won first prize,” he said. “You still get the beer and spa day though. Give it up for Cockzilla everyone!”

  Kip left the stage, waving.

  “Okay let’s get back to dancing,” Elliot said. “Happy Halloween, villagers!” He blew a kiss and walked off stage as the song ‘Screamager’ blasted through the pub’s sound system, sending the crowd of oddities thrashing and dancing again.

  Nolan smiled because it was one of the songs Elliot used to blast when they’d all take the chopper up to the mountain. Back when they sang together and there wasn’t this awkward chasm between them.

  Christian nudged Nolan. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You had to watch Elliot kiss Kip.”

  He shrugged. “I’m good.”

  Christian’s shadowed eyes narrowed. “Are you being mature just to fuck with me?�
�

  Nolan laughed and looked up when he saw Elliot heading toward them, JT beside him with an arm slung over his shoulders. Elliot was laughing and talking in JT’s ear as they walked. When they reached the bar Elliot looked up, saw Nolan, and his grin fell.

  Nolan smiled at Elliot and raised his glass. “Nice job.”

  Elliot’s grin returned as he moved away from JT and approached Nolan. “Well look at you.”

  “Look at you. Nice Blade Runner mask.”

  “Yeah, it’s my sex-bot Daryl Hannah look.”

  Nolan spread his arms and Elliot stepped in and gave him a quick hug. When he moved back, Nolan’s shirt and cape were speckled with glitter. “Ah, fuck,” Elliot said. “I turned you into a sparkly vampire.”

  “Doesn’t Nolan look great?” Christian said.

  “No!” Elliot smirked at Nolan. “He’s the lamest vampire ever.”

  “I know!” Nolan laughed. “That’s what I said.”

  Christian slapped Elliot’s bare shoulder. “He’s not lame. He looks hot.”

  “He doesn’t even have fangs! He looks like he’s about to give a piano recital.”

  Nolan smiled at Elliot, relief washing over him. Normal. Things are normal. And it feels good.

  The moment was ruined when hippie-Brett appeared again. “I’m buying you all shots.”

  JT sneered at him. “Buying? You haven’t paid for shit all night.”

  Brett poked JT’s bare chest. “That’s because our paychecks come from the same pot, JT. So come on. Let’s drink and milk that black budget dry!”

  Elliot squeezed between Nolan and Christian, leaning against the bar. He slung an arm over Christian’s shoulders. “Jackie-O here’s got a stitched up lip if you hadn’t noticed. Why would we ever drink with you, space man?”

  Brett tapped his chin with his finger. “Hmm. Let me see. Oh yeah. Because I said so? Like it or not, you homos answer to me now.”

  Christian stepped forward. “Homos?”

  “What?” Brett grinned. “Is that not appropriate?”

  “What the hell is your deal, guy?” Nolan said. “You get off on fucking with us?”

  “Oh lighten up, there, Full Metal Jackass. I want to get to know my team. It’s my right to call a meeting whenever, wherever. And right now I want to buy a round of shots. So go on. I’ve got a VIP table over by the window.”

  “Taking the place right over, aren’t you?” JT said.

  “Don’t worry. You can keep the illusion of authority.” Brett reached under JT’s overall bib and pinched his nipple.

  “Ouch!” JT slapped Brett’s hand away then rubbed his pec. “You don’t get to touch this homo, asshole. Try that again and I’ll beat you to death with your own kidneys.”

  “Hey Brett,” Christian said. “Speaking of homos, since we’re getting to know each other, do you like boys or girls or both?”

  Brett picked up Christian’s martini, took a sip, then wiped his mouth with his hand. “That information is classified.” He turned and looked at them all. “Well go on! Go sit down, I’ll bring the shots.”

  JT met Nolan’s eyes, sighed and shook his head.

  “Fine,” Elliot said. “We’ll do a shot with you. But know that it’s under duress.”

  “Your objection is noted, gorgeous. Now go on. Fuck off.”

  The four of them grumbled and ambled through the crowd of dancers. They sat down at the reserved table near the window, Christian and Elliot on one side, Nolan and JT on the other. “I hate him,” JT said.

  Elliot shrugged. “We’re gonna have to get used to him.”

  Christian tugged off his Jackie wig and pointed to his temple. “Guy’s out of his fucking mind. I’m wondering about that mental health discharge in his classified file.”

  “Ogden clearly thinks he’s fit for duty,” Nolan said.

  JT huffed. “I hate Ogden too right now.”

  Brett appeared, carrying a tray of shots. “Tequila!” He set the tray down and passed a shot glass to each of them. “Drink up. There’s more where that came from.”

  JT shot his tequila back then slammed the glass down. “You know, Brett, for someone who scolded us about our partying, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.”

  Brett pulled out a chair and sat at the head of the table, picking up his shot. “When in Rome.” He sucked down the shot and shook his head. “Wow! Yeah, we’re gonna need more.” He reached under the table. “That’s why I have a whole bottle!” He set the bottle of tequila down on the table.

  “We’re gonna be sitting here that long?” Elliot said.

  “Oh come on,” Brett said. “Give me a break, guys. All I did was point out your weaknesses. I’m doing you a favor. You should be salivating to reap the benefit of my vast expertise.”

  “Your vast expertise?” Nolan said. “What have you ever done that even comes close to what we’ve achieved?”

  “Good question,” Elliot said. “Tell me Brett, you ever located an alien base?”

  Brett shrugged. “No.”

  “Ever sat down and had a conversation with an alien hybrid?” Christian asked. “Ever get paralyzed by an angry nasty humanoid with a galaxy-sized chip on its shoulder?”

  Brett chuckled. “I see. This is where we get our dicks out and measure, right?” He stood and unzipped his jeans. “Come on then. I’ll whip the beef-sword of justice out right the fuck now!” He stuck his hand down the front of his pants.

  “No!” Christian winced and covered his eyes.

  Nolan leaned away from Brett. “Seriously, no. We’ll respect your authority if you put the beef-sword of justice away.”

  “Your loss.” Brett zipped up then sat. “So tell me about the Whites.”

  JT huffed. “You haven’t been briefed?”

  “Of course I’ve been briefed. By bureaucrats and physicists and men in black like Ogden. I want to hear it from you guys. You’ve had the most direct contact.”

  Elliot groaned. He met Nolan’s gaze and rolled his eyes. Nolan had trouble looking away. With the painted black mask, Elliot’s eyes looked a brilliant green.

  “Fine,” Brett said. “If none of my pupils will volunteer, I’ll have to call on someone. Nolan? Tell me about the Whites.”

  Nolan tore his gaze from Elliot and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “The Whites are cold, calculated, have a sense of entitlement about using our planet for their base, but unless you get in their way, they’re content to leave humans well enough alone. Though they’d probably make an exception in your case.”

  “All right. What else? Christian?”

  Christian shrugged. “Huge ships. Triangles. Boomerangs. They can manipulate matter to move through solid forms. And they have other abilities. Inherent. Can do things with their minds.”

  “Like what? JT?”

  JT reached over and grabbed the bottle. “If I have to talk about work, I’m at least getting drunk.”

  “Oh me too,” Elliot said.

  JT refilled everyone’s shot glass but Brett’s, then set the bottle down. “Okay. Abilities. This list is limited, I’m sure there’s a lot we still don’t know about them. But they can move really fast. So fast that they become a blur. They can inflict spontaneous paralysis. Baz said the angry nasties could make living things bleed internally just by thinking it, and they didn’t get that from their human side. So we can assume the Whites have that ability too. Transportation via funnels of mist. Still haven’t figured out how that works.” JT drank his shot, then poured another for him and Elliot. He smiled at Brett. “And like you, they’re real fucking ugly.”

  “They’re not ugly,” Nolan said. “The baby White me and Elliot took care of on the mountain was cute. And I think Baz is beautiful.”

  “Baz is a half-human hybrid, I’m talking about the full Whites. And baby anythings are cute,” JT said.

  Elliot snickered, his eyes glazed from the tequila. He pointed at JT. “You’re a racist.”

  JT’s head jerked back. “I am
not a racist! They are ugly. I almost ran right into one in the forest back when we were still conducting tests on the field. It was only there for a second before it took off, but I got a real good look. Eight-feet tall. Horsey white face. Eyes like snow globes.”

  “Yet you think Baz is beautiful because he looks more like you,” Brett said. “Yeah, that’s pretty racist.”

  JT scowled at Brett. “Screw you, NASA. Let’s see how you handle staring down an alien. Bet you’d shit your pants.”

  “Bro,” Brett said. “I’ve shit my pants in space. You don’t know fear until you’re outside the ISS on a spacewalk and see a saucer fly by, Grey alien’s black eyes staring at you from the window.”

  The group around the table went quiet.

  “Is that a true story?” Nolan asked.

  Brett’s smarmy grin was nowhere to be found. Suddenly he looked troubled, blue eyes cast down at his shot glass. He scratched the dreadlock bun on his head and looked up. “Yep. That’s a true story.”

  “So that’s what happened to you,” Christian said.

  Brett nodded. “That’s what happened to me.”

  “Is that how Ogden got his hands on you?” JT asked. “You talk?”

  Brett looked up. “Yep. I talked. But no one else did. Two cosmonauts inside saw the same thing. But they were happy to lie about it when asked. But when I got my feet back on this rock, I couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t let me shout it from the mountaintops. I mean, this was huge. This was it. Proof of alien life.” He glanced around the table. “That’s when I found out the truth. That the people in power already fucking knew.”

  There was a lull in the conversation as they all absorbed what Brett had told them. Then JT picked up the bottle, leaned over and filled Brett’s shot glass. Brett smiled and picked it up. “And what are we drinking to?”

  JT raised his glass. “To the loss of innocence.”

  Brett chuckled. “And with it, the loss of bowel control. Cheers.”

  Their ‘work meeting’ was interrupted when Marybeth and her girlfriend Elena came and joined them at the table, the two of them dressed up as Oompa Loompas. After that, there was just music and loud chatter and more drinking. Brett’s overbearing personality faded into the background, but Nolan noticed he watched all of them carefully from his seat at the head of the table. Because of this, Nolan made a point not to drink too much.