|
|
Post by brower on Feb 22, 2008 0:32:52 GMT -5
Andy sat on the parking lot on the cement block in front of an empty parking space. His back was hunched over as his elbows rested on his knees. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, pulling out his lighter in turn and lighting it.
His blond hair fell forward slightly into his eyes as he readjusted the collar of his polo shirt with the hand not holding the cigarette. It was after classes let out and the parking lot was gradually becoming more and more deserted.
|
|
|
|
Post by Denny Martin on Feb 22, 2008 0:49:46 GMT -5
Denny was all elbows and knees as he left the school, trying to get his other arm into the sleeve of his jean jacket while simultaneously slinging his backpack over the opposite shoulder. So far he'd knocked into three people. It would have been more, if he hadn't gotten out of class so late.
Mr. Baylor was by far Denny's favorite teacher, despite the fact he taught his least favorite subject, AP Lang and Comp. Denny wasn't exactly the most efficient person - a procrastinator of the worst sort. However, he was a likable enough guy, and used that fact to his advantage as he begged the good hearted professor for an extension, who (surprise) relented and gave him the weekend. Thank god for small miracles.
At length, Denny succeeded in shoving his arm through the sleeve, though the effort left his white tee-shirt twisted and riding up on his side, exposing a bit of the lean flesh of his stomach. Denny ignored the chilly air that hit his bare skin - he'd never much minded the cold - and fumbled to retrieve the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. He'd been dying for one since third period, and even though he "quit" months ago, he couldn't deny himself every once in a while. Denny had little to no self control.
"Shite," he swore under his breath. Having put the cancer between his lips, all he needed now was a light. Naturally, though, he was out of matches. Snatching the cigarette from his mouth, he tossed the empty matchbook into the nearest garbage can and searched his pockets for another light.
|
|
|
|
Post by brower on Feb 25, 2008 2:41:04 GMT -5
Andy glanced up as he heard the curse escape the other boys lips. The other boy, he noticed, was a boy named Denny. Cute in an endearing sort of way, he was currently rooting through his pockets for something. Judging by the unlit cigarette between his lips, Andy thought he might be able to solve that little mystery.
"Here," he said, holding up his lighter and flicking his pale hair away from his face with a casual jerk of his head.
His naturally wide eyes gazed at Denny, his held tilted slightly as though thinking. He then added, "heads up" before tossing the lighter to him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Denny Martin on Feb 25, 2008 17:48:00 GMT -5
Denny looked up from his search as Andy spoke, his eyes settling on the lighter in the other boy's outstretched hand.
"Oh, thanks --" he started, before the lighter was tossed to him. Any other person would have caught the gentle throw, but, Denny was Denny, and so it clattered to the ground. With an eye roll and a groan to match, he bent down, snatched up the lighter that lay at his feet, and lit his cigarette. He closed his eyes when he inhaled, and let the smoke out through his nose. Nice.
Taking no chances, he walked over to Andy and sat next to him, handing him the lighter.
"Thanks, man. What's up?" he asked, taking another drag and blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth, away from Andy.
|
|
|
|
Post by brower on Mar 1, 2008 0:57:55 GMT -5
A grin tugged at the corners of Andy's mouth as Denny expertly missed the toss. After the little slip up, he came over and sat down beside Andy, who, besides the grin, pretended it hadn't happened.
"Thanks, man. What's up?"
"No sweat," Andy said, taking a drag from his cig and letting the smoke roll around in his mouth a couple second s before blowing it out through his lips. "Oh, not much."
Not much? his inner voiceover said surprised. What about you're first real boyfriend? One who isn't involved in your. . .extra curricular activities.
"How're things with you?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Denny Martin on Mar 1, 2008 1:22:01 GMT -5
"Oh, you know. The usual," Denny replied, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. "Causing problems, rebelling against the man, taking it to the streets."
It wasn't difficult to tell when Denny was joking about something. He was always joking. In this instance, his smile gave him away despite his otherwise serious fist-pumping.
"That, or I just got an extension for a paper I never got around to writing that happened to be due today. One of the four."
Smile still in place, he flicked the ashes from the end of his cigarette and put it between his lips, using his freed hands to pull his sleeves up. Long sleeves didn't suit him, no matter the weather.
|
|
|
|
Post by brower on Mar 1, 2008 4:32:47 GMT -5
Andy shook his head at Denny's words, the grin returning to his face. Denny had a sense of humor that Andy could appreciate. After Denny gave a slightly more accurate description of what he'd been up to, Andy allowed a whistful sigh.
"Man, I wish I had your powers of persuasion," he said, watching the smoke curling up and away from his cigarette. He removed one hand from his knee and leaned back to rest his weight on it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Denny Martin on Mar 14, 2008 20:55:05 GMT -5
"Man, I wish I had your powers of persuasion."
"Yeah you do. I can talk girl out of her pants if. I. So. Desire," he replied, his hand gestures emphasizing his words, smile betraying his serious tone, as usual. He took a quick hit from the cigarette before tapping Andy on the shoulder, as though remembering something. Smoke trailed out of his mouth as he spoke in a slightly excited voice.
"How did that thing go... that thing... you remember... you were telling me, was it last year? With the... aughhh..." Denny's frustration was evident in his tone and exaggerated body language. Then, suddenly, realization dawned on him, and he animatedly flicked the ashes from the cigarette as he spoke. "The writing thing! The club! How did that go?" For once, his memory served him, and Denny was too excited by that to let the fact that the conversation was more than a year old get him down. He took an eager drag and pulled his knees in toward his chest.
|
|
|
|
Post by brower on Mar 14, 2008 21:39:52 GMT -5
"I. . .uhh wow," Andy said with an awkward grin and a would be chuckle. "Yeah, I don't know if I'd use the powers for quite the same gain."
He looked up at Denny as he tapped him on the shoulder, his cigarette pursed between his lips. He ran a hand through his hair as he let out an only slightly rueful sigh.
"Oh yeah that," he said, removing the cigarette from his mouth. "Yeah that didn't really work out. I just didn't have the time for it."
|
|
|
|
Post by Denny Martin on Mar 14, 2008 22:07:45 GMT -5
"Shit man, I'm sorry. Sore subject?" Denny asked, looking curiously at Andy. He brushed his thumb against his lip and took a final drag before putting his cigarette out on the tip of his shoe, as he was in the habit of doing.
He let the last breath of smoke out through his nose, as he was also in the habit of doing. Ever since he'd started to smoke, he'd always let the first and last puffs of smoke out through his nose. He was a very routine-based person - if he didn't have routines for everything, he was sure he wouldn't remember how to do them.
|
|
|
|
Post by brower on Mar 14, 2008 22:21:06 GMT -5
"Oh, not a sore subject exactly," Andy said with a shrug, watching Denny's disposal of his cigarette with a grin. Some things never changed. "I just had to pick between the club and work. I never really joined clubs because of work."
He took one final drag on his cigarette as well, and tossed the remains to the ground. He used the rubber soul of his worn chucks to crush the still glowing ashes.
|
|
|
|
Post by Denny Martin on Mar 14, 2008 22:37:57 GMT -5
"Oh yeah, I dig, I dig," Denny replied in his cool-cat voice, before his face went serious. "Where do you work? Didn't know you had a job."
Denny definitely wasn't the richest person in the world, and could understand why Andy would give getting a paycheck higher priority than doing something that he actually wanted to do. Having had a job since fifteen himself at the local grocery store as a stock boy, he was curious as to what other jobs were available to kids his age in this town. Every couple of months he'd go on a fruitless job search. He, of course, would always end up empty-handed and remain stuck in his minimum wage job stocking milk. It was hell, sure, but he made the best of it, and tried not to complain. He made money and that was all that mattered.
|
|
|
|
Post by brower on Mar 14, 2008 22:51:32 GMT -5
"I. . . "Andy's eyes widened more than usual. People were very rarely interested in his work life unless they were paying customers. "I'm, I work in Liberty Ave."
It was true-ish. He worked on the streets in Liberty Avenue, but Denny wasn't exactly asking for specifics.
|
|
|
|
Post by Denny Martin on Mar 14, 2008 23:08:23 GMT -5
"Oh wow. I've only been there a couple of times, with some friends at one of the bars. Do they pay well there?" Denny asked, albeit distractedly.
His mind was slightly preoccupied with memories of that bar -- was it called Woodies? It had been a fun time, for damn sure. He'd never been hit on before, until the last time he'd been there. It was exciting, but scary at the same time. Once, he swore he'd seen Brian Kinney. Granted, it was across a dark and smoky room, and the man was leaving, so it was only the back of his head -- but still! It had to have been. Denny had heard the stories about Brian, had heard that he frequented Woodies and the Liberty Ave Diner. He'd even - sadly enough - gone to those places with hopes of catching a glimpse of the man, the myth, the legend - but never had. Except for that one time. It had been HIM, definitely, definitely. He was sure of it.
|
|
|
|
Post by brower on Mar 19, 2008 2:07:45 GMT -5
Did they pay well? Andy bit back a snort at the question. He felt a bit of relief flood through him: if Denny had only been there a few times at the bars he had no need to worry about being discovered.
"Yeah they pay pretty well. I mean, it helps pay the bill right?" he said with a shrug.
His job payed very well. That was the reason he was still doing it. With all the expenses he was paying now, he needed the amount of money he was making off of the pigs that frequented the dark alleys of Liberty Ave.
|
|
