Caught in the Act

by Lydia Thorn

  But you’re thinking about agreeing to it.

  I notice Ivan had left the door open when he left, most likely on purpose, like there is anything he will have to worry about. Number one, I can’t ever hope to match them both in looks and number two I’m scared shitless right now.

  “I’ve known him since he was in kindergarten.” Mr. Bowie speaks, perhaps giving me a break from my stupid thoughts. “His older brother, Kane, is like a brother to me so that makes Ivan my younger brother.”

  Ah. So I was wrong?

  “Is that right?”

  “To tell you the truth life hasn’t been all that easy for him.” He steps further in the class and I think I’m feeling relief at my theory being wrong.

  “He has more money than normal people like me can dream of,” I reply. “I think life has been plenty easy on him.”

  “And yet he would gladly trade all that money if he could see his mother in person and perhaps speak to his father as the man he is now.” Mr. Bowie defends him. “Even those with money can feel powerless in the face of things their money can’t change.” He places his hands on his hips. “And the powerless tend to bully to gain a sense of it in their lives.”

  Hold up. “Are you making excuses for him being a bully?” I say the temperature rising. “Am I to be his verbal punching bag so he can work out the kinks in his life?” I fold my arms; I so want to leave, but it doesn’t seem like I’m able. “He’s not the only one to ever lose someone special.”

  “You’re right.” He apologizes. “And no, it’s not your job to take it. I just hope you don’t think his behavior has anything to do with you. I will speak to him later and get him to lay off. Trust me when I say you wouldn’t have wanted to meet him back in middle school, he’s gotten much better since then.” He looks in the direction Ivan left, a smile creeps on his lips, his blue eyes soften almost wistfully as he glances at the door. “So, about this so-called zipper incident. What actually happened here?” He turns to me, his eyes sharp again.

  I know this isn’t the time or place, but...how long has Ivan been sucking this guy off in his sleep? Why the hell can’t I think of anything else but this right now? And slow down partner.

  Ivan is right, I am a pervert.

  “Okay then, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Mr. Bowie says after an extended beat of my silence. “Just know that I’m not just a teacher. I’ve also taken lessons in psychology, which has helped me a lot. I can usually tell when someone is depressed.”

  “I’m not depressed.”

  “Are you sure? Men display depression a little differently than women. They tend to express it through anger. Do you feel angry and on edge? Or perhaps empty, tired, thoughts of self-harming or withdrawal from social activities?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’ve applied to Alexandre Pfeiffer École de Patisserie in Paris. I’m currently waiting for the interview.” I have no idea why I feel the need to explain myself or why I think that is the best explanation for why I can’t possibly be depressed. “I might be a loner sometimes but I do have friends, Toby and Rei.” Okay just shut the fuck up and stop rambling.

  “That’s wonderful news, I hope you get in,” Ivan replies and I can’t help to hear the condescending tone in his voice. “About your friends. How long have you known them?”

  What the hell is this? Am I being interviewed for something or is he sizing me up? “I met Rei first before coming to this school and Toby last year.” Why the hell am I replying to this? “But Rei’s been getting a lot into drag which opened up his pool of friends so we don’t spend that much time after school anymore and Toby is more of a school friend.”

  “I think I know exactly what you need.” Mr. Bowie surprises me by grabbing me and pulling me from the classroom barely giving me time to snatch up my backpack.

  CHAPTER TEN

  LOUIS

  I don’t know who in their right mind would name their diner Pestilence, but someone did, and that diner is not far off from the school grounds. Why the hell did I let him drag me all the way here? And why did he drag me all the way here? The place was a dingy white square building connected to a row of other small shops and boutiques. A place that sells only macaroons, a ramen shop, a mochi ice cream place. All cute and well-made bricked buildings with clean display glasses and tidy looking signs.

  And next to them is a dirty white concrete building with almost foggy windows, worn-out menus taped to the glass, and Pestilence was missing the I. Despite that, the smell coming from inside was a beautiful savory delight.

  “I’m gonna be so late for class!” I try to protest when we enter the near-empty place. A slender man with wild curly black hair wipes off the red counter and fills the order of an old man seated at the bar who couldn’t tell the difference between a fried pork cutlet and a chicken-fried steak. None of which he should be having for breakfast, anyway.

  Two casual looking women sit at one of the booths in the back eating pancakes and whatever else I didn’t get a good look at.

  “Don’t worry, this is a very important lesson.” Mr. Bowie leans in and whispers. His cologne is a nice cool scent I can’t place. Perhaps something artificial, unlike the vanilla oak Ivan tends to smell like. “Something you can’t learn inside of a classroom.”

  “But…I…I can’t!”

  “Just think about the stories you want to tell your kids.” He replies with a smile on his face. “You don’t want your last year of high school to be all about boring classrooms.”

  Oh great, he’s one of those teachers, the kind that wants to be your friend and teach you all about how you’re missing out on life and blah blah. No wonder Ivan is in love with him. I wonder if he pulled this same crap with him and it just made him realize that life just ain’t worth living without him or some such nonsense. Well, he won’t pull me in with that.

  But what about those rumors?

  Ah yes, those rumors…wait…is he? No, he can’t be hitting on me. I take a chance and look him in the face. Come to think of it, he doesn’t look all that old. One could actually mistake him for a student. I think I did before.

  “Well, what about you?” I say before he starts thinking I’m crazy for just standing here silent. “Don’t you have a class to teach?”

  “Wanna make a teacher play hooky?” He grins like a Cheshire cat and I look away as fast as I can, the heat rising to my cheeks. Now I get it. What is this called? Charisma. And he’s got it in spades. Funny thing is, I don’t think he’s even flirting with me. He’s just naturally sexy. “Relax, I don’t have a morning class so I stop by here often to load up on my coffee fix.” He explains and walks over to the counter without taking a seat. “Did you know this place also sells craft beer? Probably the best I’ve ever tasted. I know the owner so if you ever want to try it just let me know and I’ll make him give you a pint.”

  “That’s generous…” Seriously, what the hell?

  “The burgers and shakes are also to die for, too.”

  “I bet they are.” I stand somewhat behind him. “I’ve passed this place before but never eaten here.” I was too afraid this was one of those places with an abysmal sanitation score that stays open for some odd reason.

  “Then you ought to try it out. The food is damn good.”

  “Maybe when school is finished, I’ll try it before I leave for Paris.”

  “Ever had coffee before?”

  “My mom thinks caffeine leads to darker things.”

  Mr. Bowie laughs like he can’t believe what I had said, but it’s all true.

  “Your mom is rather…”

  “You would think she was uptight but, no she’s kinda far from it,” I reply in her defense. “She used to be in a biker gang.”

  “Really?” His thin blond brow rises in surprise.

  “Yeah, with my dad. That’s how they met. They both got the tattoos and the whole nine. They left after I was born, but they still love to ride. Well, not since my dad’s accident…” Why the hell am I just
spilling my life story to this guy? This is so annoying.

  “Your father…is he?”

  “He’s in the hospital currently, the accident happened almost a year ago and he’s been in one of those medicated comas. My mom thinks he’ll be up and back to his old self soon but, I’m starting to hold off hope of that happening.”

  I think this bastard just has one of those ‘trust me’ faces.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. If you need anything, even if it’s just to talk, then don’t hesitate to call me.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card and hands it to me. It’s like black lacquer in paper form, and the writing is gold. I want to smell it for some reason, but hold off on that. The writing on it says Damien with his phone number underneath…is this the card he gives his hookups? It certainly doesn’t look like a regular business card.

  “Thanks.

  “Got another young one, huh?” The slender curly haired man rests his hands on the counter and grins at the both of us. He’s handsome even though his face is kinda on the gaunt side and he has a scar running from the corner of his left mouth and up his cheek like a half joker smile. I heard of that. The Glasgow smile when someone’s face is sliced from the corner of the mouth on both sides to produce an elongated smile. Looks like they didn’t get to finish the job as the other side has a much smaller cut you barely see and only if you’re looking for it.

  “Don’t you know, I like’em young.” Mr. Bowie replies, his voice taking on a seductive air that nearly makes me choke on my spit.

  “Looks like you got yourself an innocent.” The man replies with a manly chuckle.

  “Just give me my coffee, make it two.”

  Fuck it, I guess I’m not going to class so I have a seat at the bar when Mr. Bowie does.

  “Anything else you wanna tell me?” He says holding the steaming mug.

  Coffee does smell good, even if I don’t drink it. When he finishes pouring mine, he sits down a small jar of sugar packets and creamer packs and after taking a sip of the bitter liquid I take advantage. No wonder my mother takes her coffee with lots of cream and sugar, and I can get why she doesn’t want me drinking it. I usually see this as her bad habit.

  “I promise that nothing you say will leave this diner.” Mr. Bowie says drinking the bitter liquid as is.

  “I…I don’t know if I have much to say. I’m a boring person overall.

  “Understandable, I won’t pry further. Let’s talk about school instead and why I think being at this diner is good for you.” He says taking yet another sip. “Life after school is going to be hectic. Like a race to whatever arbitrary finish line we give ourselves. I’ve seen so many students who allow the system to control them, making them believe they have to rush to the end of everything. That’s what they design schools to do. To brainwash you into being a working thankless cog in a great machine. Wake up at six am, go to school by seven am, get to class before the bell rings, leave when the bell rings, oh and don’t forget the tardy bell. Just one big indoctrination tool.” He leans forward and I can’t help but look over at the man cleaning up the bar who tosses Mr. Bowie a look before cleaning the coffee machine. He must have heard this before. “Then we wonder why so many of the young are dropping dead of heart attacks or suicide.”

  “Uh…” I don’t know what to say to that.

  “The lesson here is this. No matter how many bells ring, never forget to just stop and sip on some coffee.” He takes another sip and watches me with his cerulean eyes.

  Well, that’s…actually not a bad lesson when you think about it? I mean, I am almost out of school. What terrible thing can really happen to me now? My grades are good, I think I’ve gotten all my credits in order. So why not just enjoy myself for these last few months?

  “I suppose that’s a good lesson.” I take a sip of my rich sweet drink, and it tastes pretty damn good.

  “You know, I’m sure Ivan will forget to make dinner, anyway.” Mr. Bowie sighs. “Why don’t you meet me here for dinner right after school. You can try out that burger I told you about, and I’m paying.”

  He didn’t leave me much time to answer. First, my mouth was on the floor and that needed picking up and second, he was already walking out the door.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LOUIS

  Masturbating in the school bathroom was never at the top of my bucket list, or a part of any of my lists but I couldn’t help it and eventually give in to the demands of my libido. Somehow getting to know Mr. Bowie, even just a little, made the act of catching them even hotter and my brain is taking me to places I didn’t even know I wanted to visit. I went from picturing them in the teacher’s lounge to outright fucking in the bathroom up against the sink. Mr. Bowie’s face transforming to mine, then back again to his own. My thoughts getting dirtier the more I returned to the pair.

  Did I find Mr. Bowie attractive as well?

  Hm, he’s an attractive man for sure but, I don’t think it’s about him more so than imagining Ivan fucking someone and half the time I’m replacing his face with my own. Does that mean I would be okay with him using me to sate his lust for Mr. Bowie? Is this my brain and libido joining forces to make this choice easier?

  What if Ivan is telling the truth about his intention and he just needs the reassurance of the pictures deleted? But why me? He can have any man he wants without the baggage of the pictures or knowing what he did. If he wants to pretend we’re in a relationship, he can do that with anyone and they would jump at the chance.

  Or maybe me knowing his dark secret is what makes it easy? Perhaps venting with me is the safer choice. Just what the hell am I saying? Am I really okay with this? Am I that damn pathetic?

  When I get home, it’s one more time for the road and then I’m off to the diner to meet up with Mr. Bowie. He didn’t give any other time but after school and I don’t know if he meant right after or an hour after. My house isn’t that far, so I ran home, topped myself off, cleaned up (I’m not that much of a deviant), and ran as fast as I could to the diner. I have no idea what to wear but I didn’t want to wear my school uniform, so I opted for a simple dark gray button-up shirt and jeans.

  I spot Mr. Bowie in the window scribbling something down. It looks like he’s grading papers or something.

  I shouldn’t have come here.

  “Glad you came.” Mr. Bowie smiles when he sees me.

  I should have run out the door. Too late now. “You didn’t leave me with much choice,” I reply and sit down in the booth across from him.

  “Yeah, my friends tell me I need to work on that.” He slides the papers into a folder and slips the folder into his bag. “So why did you come?”

  Is this a trick question? “Well, I thought…” I stammer to find the right words but I don’t have anything that won’t make me look lame as hell.

  “You thought it would be rude?” Bowie’s laughs are as smooth as his skin. “Get us three pints and your everything burger and fries.” He tells the curly-haired man just before he approaches us.

  Three pints? “Are you sure…?”

  “You need to just focus on letting go.” Mr. Bowie sits back, the sun beaming directly on his face and making his white hair almost blinding to look at.

  The man sits the beers down first, and Mr. Bowie grabs his mug and raises it to me. “Take a sip.”

  “Um…. okay…” I reply, taking up the mug and tasting the amber liquid. I don’t know what I expected this to taste like, but it isn’t like anything I’ve imagined. It’s bitter and yeasty, and I can’t understand why anyone would enjoy this. Just when I remove the glass from my mouth does it slam against my lips, forcing the acidic beverage down my throat.

  “There you go.” I hear Mr. Bowie’s voice while I’m chugging down this shit. Don’t think, just drink. He finally removes the near-empty glass and slams it on the table with a hearty laugh as I wipe my mouth clean and check on my dirty shirt. “Everyone should chug one at least once in their lives.”

  “Ye
ah…” I reply not liking that at all and a strange loosy-goosy-ness (is that even a word?) takes over me causing me to blink a little slower.

  Ivan! I duck low in the seat to hide.

  “What are you doing?” Mr. Bowie chuckles. “Ivan, over here.”

  “I’m checking the floor for…gum.” I sit back up. Oh shit oh shit oh shit! What the hell is he gonna think about me meeting up with Mr. Bowie like this? This is too much.

  “What is he doing here?” Ivan asks and sits down next to Mr. Bowie and grabs the untouched pint of beer next to him.

  Thankfully, the curly-haired man brings us our burgers and fries on one of those plastic platters you see at the fast-food joints. The smell is out of this world and I busy myself straight away with tasting the crispy fries before bundling this thick cheesy pretzel bun concoction in the parchment paper it came with and taking a huge mouthful bite of it. He fried the mushrooms in a spicy batter, and instead of using lettuce he used baby spinach and purple garden tomatoes. The meat is cooked to a tinge of red and it is drowned in gooey white cheddar. Looks like this diner has a new customer.

  “I’m a firm believer that everyone should get out of their comfort zone.” Mr. Bowie replies to Ivan’s question, and that reply doesn’t satisfy him one bit. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting me to be here, maybe he thought this would be a date between the two of them and I’m just the third wheel.

  I wish Ivan will stop staring at me.

  I take another swig of the beer that I’m slowly getting used to, alone it sucks but paired with crunchy salty fries it isn’t half bad.

  “What have you two been talking about?” Ivan takes a sip of his beer, his eyes still on me forcing me to squirm in discomfort. “Hopefully not about me.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I laugh and take another drink, my brain falling into a state of not giving a shit.

  “Play nice, Ivan. You see what a lightweight he is.” Mr. Bowie touches Ivan’s shoulder to calm him down, and Ivan leans back in his seat and snatches up a fry.