Ronnie's Story Ch. 3
Chapter III--With Every Silver Lining...
_And it feels right this time
On his crash course with the big time
Pay no mind to the distant thunder
New Day fills his head with wonder, boy_
_Says it feels right this time
Turned it 'round and found the right line
"Good day to be alive, sir
Good day to be alive," he says_
_Then it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel
Was just a freight train coming your way._
-Metallica, "No Leaf Clover"
Ronnie gave a frustrated grunt as he was rolled off of Ray. It was four in the afternoon by this point, and Ronnie and Ray had done just about everything Ronnie could ever have wanted from such a strapping stud. "Why are you pushing me off? I was comfortable there."
"Hey, man's gotta work to pay the bills, you know."
"Awww... can't you just call in one night?"
"You tell me after you make your next weekly rent payment to that rat of a superintendant."
"He's a weasel."
"I know what he thinks he is," Ray said with a smirk. He slid on a button-down dress shirt that looked to be made of rather fine material, maybe even satin.
"What do you do, anyway?"
"Tonight? I'm a drummer. Tomorrow, I'm just another waiter again," Ray said with a sigh. "So much for my exalted status in your eyes."
Ronnie shook his head, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "No, that's awesome," he said with a yawn, stretching out his arms. "Really, hun. I wish I even had a job. I'm just a bum."
"Really? How the hell are you affording living in New York?"
Ronnie shrugged. "I've got my sources."
"Daddy's money?"
"You could say that, yeah." Ronnie giggled and stood up, getting up behind Ray as he slipped on a pair of boxers. He wrapped his arms around the hulking male and rubbed his toned belly. "God you have such a gorgeous body."
"Chalk that up to growing up on a farm upstate."
"I guess they breed 'em well there, hm?" Ronnie said with a chuckle as Ray turned around in his arms. Ray bent his head down and kissed the top of Ronnie's head, tousling his already messy hair.
"You know it, baby," he grinned, then pulled away to put on a pair of black pants and shoes.
"You don't look much like a rockstar in those duds," Ronnie said teasingly.
"It's a formal gig. I'm not actually in a band yet. I have a few guys I stay in touch with for gigs. Had a few band attempts, but they always fizzle."
"Why's that?"
"Well, essentially we haven't found a good writer-slash-vocalist yet. I mean hell, any loser can pick up a guitar and get skilled with it, provided they put in the hours day after day. But a good voice and a creative mind, you can't fake that."
Ronnie thought back to his choir days, and began singing a piece he'd learned in a daring a cappella piece his eighth grade director actually allowed them to perform.
"It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never have
The wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless longing for some solitary company
I know that I must do what's right
As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti
I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become."
Ray blinked, looking genuinely surprised as well as impressed. "Where did that come from?" He laughed.
"Well... my choir director in eighth grade decided to go with a contemporary piece set a cappella style. I got to be one of the boys singing the Chorus. You like?"
Ray smirked and hugged Ronnie close. "I loved it. You have an amazing voice."
Ronnie shrugged, trying to play it off as a simple thing. "I do my best."
"Oh look at little Mr. arrogance," Ray chuckled, kissing Ronnie on the lips. He grabbed his wallet and keys and whatever else he needed, then stopped, thinking about it. He pulled his keys out and unlinked the key to his place from his keychain. Handing it to Ronnie, he slipped it into his palm and clasped Ronnie's fingers around it. "Hold on to this until I get back."
"Serious?" Ronnie said, his face brightening. Ray simply nodded. Ronnie slipped his arms around the male's waist and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Ray. You've been the only good thing going for me lately."
"Hey, no problem," he said, stroking Ronnie's hair. "Honestly I've been in such a rut for the longest time. I haven't had a guy to share my life with for at least a year."
Ronnie smiled and tiptoed his way up to Ray's lips once more. The kiss was sweet, slow, and tender. Once they parted, Ray grabbed his jacket from off of a chair. "Alright, I've gotta split or I'm gonna be late. You can take care of yourself?"
"Definitely. I'll probably head back to my place for a few just to get cleaned up and changed. Then you'll have a sexy little bun waiting in your bed when you return..." he murred, tracing a finger down Ray's chest. Ray simply shuddered and caressed the bun's cheek before turning towards the door. "There's a bunch of menus by the couch. Sorry if it's a little bachelor-esque in my fridge. Like I said, it's been a while."
Ronnie waved him off. "Go, you're gonna be late, remember?"
Ray gave one more wide, charming smile, making Ronnie want to melt yet again before Ray disappeared down the hall.
After a few moments, Ronnie exited the apartment as well, going down the hall to check on his own place, wanting so bad to change and shower. Striding up to his doorway, he noticed something troubling. A slight splinter was jutting out from beside the doorknob. Reaching out, he twisted it. The knob spun freely, and the door simply drifted open. The lock and knob had been smashed in. Ronnie's heart leapt to his chest.
Bursting in, Ronnie looked around. His dumpster-dive couch was overturned, cushions torn and stuffing spread everywhere. The television was gone, the cabinet on which it sat turned over and ransacked. What little reading material he'd built up was strewn everywhere, the playbill he'd pilfered from the storeroom of Rent was torn apart on the floor.
Rushing to the kitchen, Ronnie cried out the moment he saw the fridge torn away from the wall. It lay on its side, still humming with its chill cycle. The small safe he'd bolted to the floor was gone.
"Fuck!!!" Ronnie screamed, taking the microwave and throwing it at the window. It smashed the window wide open and fell through. Ronnie was saved a charge of accidental manslaughter only by the fact there was a fire escape outside that window. Below, an elderly black bear female hobbled along, her incredible girth supported by the failing, pained legs of a diabetic. A couple shards of glass dusted themselves onto her shoulder, to which she responded with an indifferent brushing-off. It was New York City, nothing surprised her anymore.
Meanwhile, Ronnie was raging inside. Anything that wasn't damaged in the robbery was torn apart anyway. The only thing left untouched by Ronnie's outburst of rage was the torn playbill that lay on the rug.
It was well into the midnight hour by the time Ray made his way home. His jacket was slung casually over his shoulder, and he had foregone getting drinks with his buddies to attend to more interesting fare back home. As he strode up, he watched as Ronnie stepped out onto the front stoop of the house, a knapsack slung over his shoulder.
"Decided I wasn't worth it?" Ray called, voice betraying his light banter with concern--and even a slight amount of fear.
Ronnie turned towards Ray, surprised. He hadn't expected him back this early. Tears were in Ronnie's eyes. Even in the street lamplights, Ray could see the glimmer in Ronnie's eyes. "What's wrong? Something I did? Did I scare you off by going too fast?"
Ronnie shook his head. He didn't want to face Ray like this. He didn't want to see the guy hurting. "I have to go home..."
"Why? What happened?"
Ronnie gave up trying to speak. He was too battered, felt too violated, to speak two more words without breaking down into tears. He nodded up to the building, indicating for Ray to follow him. Once at the top of the stairs, Ray understood. "Oh... I'm sorry hun..." he said, hugging Ronnie close. "Can you father send more cash to have it fixed up?"
Ronnie shook his head. "My father doesn't even know I'm here. I ran away, stole as much cash from him as I could carry and ended up here," he said, breaking down as he spoke, his words becoming sobs that were barely coherent. He buried his face into Ray's chest, and Ray hugged him tight. After a few minutes, Ray picked Ronnie up into his arms and carried him down the hallway to his room. The frame around his door had been gradually coming off, and the top portion was conspicuously pushed back into place. Looking to Ronnie, he smirked.
"Well at least you know how to leave a key behind," he complimented. Ronnie simply reached up, slid the frame piece out of place again, and retrieved the key from the slot where once the top and side of the frame had been connected together by wood glue and cheap particle board. Once inside, Ray sat down on his couch with Ronnie in his arms. "So tell me, why go home? Obviously you ran away for a reason. You can get a job and work for your rent, like me."
Ronnie bit his lip. "I can't do that."
"Why?"
"I'm only sixteen."
Ray stared at Ronnie in surprise. "You what?" Suddenly Ray was imagining steel bars and jeering cell mates.
"Don't worry, we didn't do anything illegal."
"You're under eighteen."
"And you're nineteen. Back home in Connecticut, yeah your ass is grass. But four years is the consent standard in New York."
"And you know this because?"
"I was running away to live as I wanted. Conceptually, that involved a lot of gay sex."
For the first time since Ronnie discovered the robbery, he laughed. He just couldn't help it, Ray's burst of amused laughter was simply too infectious. It was then he realized that this horse may very well be good for him.
"Alright," Ray managed to say after he finally managed to stop laughing. "Your place is trashed. The police report is filed?"
Ronnie nodded.
"Well they probably won't be able to catch the person responsible, and that leaves you S-O-L."
Ronnie nodded again.
"And tell me, specifically, why did you run away?"
Ronnie sighed, tilting his head and showing a scar that ran through the thick part of his headfur. "You remember how I said I got this scar?" He said, pointing at a large, jagged thing that hadn't quite healed right."
"Yeah. You said you fell in a junkyard while messing around with neighborhood kids."
Ronnie shook his head. "That was courtesy of my father the first time I told him I thought I was gay. I was thirteen."
"The first time?"
Ronnie nodded. "I shut the hell up about being gay, repressed it, then let it out again a few weeks ago with a bottle of oxy and a note."
"Oh jeez, Ronnie, I'm so sorry."
Ronnie sighed, looking down and away. "My father punched me in the stomach the first night I was back home from the hospital, then chased me around with his belt until called the cops. For a few weeks it went on the same. He'd get drunk, say his son was dead, then tried to beat me for it. I ran away just over a week ago."
"Then stay gone."
"Where else can I go? I have no money, no job."
"Stay here. I'll help you out. We can even see about getting you singing gigs until you've got something steady."
"You're too kind," Ronnie said. "I don't want to impose."
"Oh please," Ray said, brushing it off. "We just have to get you in contact with a friend of mine. He's got connections for getting you a fake identity, school records, even a diploma. You'll be an eighteen-year-old high school grad by the end of the week."
"You really think I can get a job without doing my last few years of school?"
"You really think I use algebra or art history when I'm serving customers greasy food or banging on the drums?"
Ronnie chuckled and shook his head, hugging Ray close and burying his face into the equine's neck. "You're so wonderful, Ray. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You too, Ronnie. I was actually giddy with the idea of coming home to you in my place. For a moment there I thought I'd lost that."
Ronnie shook his head. "No, I'm sorry about that Ray. I'm not going anywhere soon, I swear it," he said, pulling back and smiling at the horse. "Now let's say I make another attempt at riding like a real cowboy."