Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Captivate me or set me free.
I’ll sugarcoat our story so,
it goes down easily.
And say it ain’t so.
I don’t need to know,
The words that we chose,
On a day long ago,
… way back when.
My dear, it’s been,
An afterlife unlived.
The liquor tasted sweet that night, but the songs sounded sweeter. A sappy sentiment, I know, but let’s be real here. Every love story starts with a spoonful of sugah’. Or… at least the good ones do.
I wanna make this story sound real romantic, even if the reality was a hot fuckin’ mess. Blow me! I can romanticize shit all I want! This is my tale to tell.
It was warm on that Summer’s night— warm enough to glisten my skin with a thin mist of sweat. My brain buzzed as I knocked back anotha’ glass of giggle water, lettin’ all those tingles tickle their way down my spine. Forgettin’ was the goal. I wanted a break from who I was— a break from the constant play-actin’ and chest puffin’. Who could blame me? We all need a break once in a while and, until that point, I’d lived my whole life as some trussed-up peacock forced to paint his feathers black.
So I took a trip down an alleyway on the otha’ side of town. Back then, a fella could disappear if he wandered more than one street ova’ in New York City. One moment, yous was home sweet home, and the next yer face was just anotha’ ugly mug in the crowd. My stupid ass thought Harlem was the answer to all my woes. It had called to me on a dirty flier, promisin’ a renaissance of music, light, and color. Maybe freedom…
I can’t rememba’ all the details with perfect clarity, but in my mind’s eye I can still see the canary singin’ on her tippy toes, pretty and sparkly in her yellow dress. She smiled, though her eyes looked far away. Her voice wobbled, sweet and low. Sometimes, it dipped below the band, the notes falterin’ on what sounded like a sigh.
I sighed with her, feelin’ kinship in those blues.
All the while, my fingers fidgeted, tuggin’ at the cuffs of my pinstripe suit. It didn’t fit right. That’s what I rememba’ thinkin’. It didn’t fit right and I wished I’d been more bold. Nothin’ could replace the smooth feel of a borrowed dress draped around my fine-ass physique— a dirty little secret best left f’gotten. I’d always felt prettier in lady’s digs.
But men weren’t supposed to be “pretty”.
Then again, men also weren’t supposed to scour juice joints, prowlin’ fa’ fellas to fuck on the down-low, so maybe I shoulda cut my losses and tried passin’ as a broad. Afta’ all, death was the worst that could happen and I wasn’t scared to die.
I dragged my eyes ova’ the crowd, searchin’ fa’ mafiosos who might— possibly— recognize me hidin’ in plain sight. An assortment of dapper fellas with their faces masked in shadows whispered amongst themselves, the varyin’ hues of their skin-tones illuminated only when their faces turned to catch the light. Despite their differences, they all melded t’getha. Featureless.
Except one.
The man had hazel eyes, honey skin, and a wide…white… smile.
Ya eva’ heard of love at first sight? Who am I kiddin’? Of course ya have! Before that night, I’d always thought love at first sight was bullshit. I figured, at best, it was reserved fa’ starry-eyed dames and the fellas who worshipped them. But when I saw him, a strange sensation fluttered like a fuckin’ bird behind my ribcage. The tips of its wings tickled my lungs. Its cries stuck in my throat. I thought I might cough up feathers if I opened my mouth. Bizarre, sure, but I kept my lips zipped regardless.
He danced with the swagger of a ringmasta’, pumpin’ up the crowd. Twistin’ and turnin’. Long steps— Perfectly placin’ his feet so that he seemed open, but unapproachable. Distant and close all at the same time. His limbs moved like a marionette’s: sorta disjointed, rigid, and all-wrong. He laughed, open-mouthed, and conducted his whole body to perform each of those perfectly-pronounced words with a theatrical gesture. I figured he must be some sort of salesman or maybe a washed up vaudeville star by the way he said so much and nothin’ at all. The dame on his right giggled, charmed. He paid her no mind, a one-man show.
Then, he looked at me.
It caught me off guard, that look. I was in my early 20s and I’d never seen eyes like his. Glowin’ eyes. My oh my, what big eyes he had. Sure, it was creepy, but at least he wasn’t lookin’ at me with the hungry, accusatory glare i’d seen from so many men before… men who just wanted to eat me up in secret and then spit me out. His stare seemed to sting, those peepers givin’ me the jeepers creepers. Tiny pupils. Secrets in the creases.
Still, I couldn’t look away. I watched him… and waited.
He didn’t get any closer. Instead, he turned his head to continue a half-assed conversation with some mouthy broad. That look must’a been a coincidence. A mistake. I shouldn’t dwell on it. The liquor was makin’ me loopy. But… I thought I felt him watchin’ me from the corner of his eye. Maybe? Possibly?
I got this queer idea in my head that somethin’ real fuckin’ French was goin’ on. It wasn’t déjà vu, but it felt like one of those feelins they don’t have a word fa’ in English. Somethin’ told me I wasn’t supposed to be there. Perhaps HE wasn’t supposed to be there eitha’. I sensed neitha’ of us belonged in that space, tucked between clinkin’ glasses and rockin’ hips. But the songs kept me pinned to the wall and his smile charmed me from across the room. I knew I should leave, but I wanted to stay.
I’ve always been good at makin’ bad decisions.
A flicker. A turn. His hazel eyes narrowed. His grin widened.
It looked sharp.
I forced myself to focus on the canary, my cheeks red as two fuckin’ tomatoes. I tried to cool them down by pressin’ the glass of my drink against them. It didn’t fuckin’ work and I secretly bemoaned the pale skin and freckles Ma had cursed me with. No fuckin’ way did I want some stranger to see me blushin’ like a broad.
As I listened to the band, I imagined what it would be like if I’d come dressed as a gal. What if that strange fella had asked me to dance? What would I have said?
‘Yes.’
Of course it was just a harmless, silly daydream. It didn’t matter that the songs were whisperin’ sweet nothin’s inta my ears. They promised shit that would neva’, could neva’, happen. The saxophone purred. The crowd swayed. I pretended the night would end in some big, bold adventure instead of a limp-dicked cryin’ session or a half-assed handy behind the dumpsta’.
Maybe one last peep was all I needed. Just fa’ spank bank material, capiche? I turned to look fa’ my prince charmin’, but he’d disappeared behind figures draped in darkness.
Any hope I’d been holdin’ crumbled in the blink of an eye. I was bein’ stupid. Of course he hadn’t been lookin’ at me. Of course I was just seein’ what I wanted to see. The bird in my chest stopped flutterin’. I realized I was just actin’ like a crazy, desperate, delusional fairy. A regula’ Dumb Dora. Pathetic.
His grinnin’ face popped up in my peripheral like a fuckin’ jack-in-the-box.
“Good evening, my effeminate fellow!” He boomed, words knockin’ togetha’ in a fancy-ass transatlantic clip, almost too fast fa’ me to hear him right. “Allow me to introduce myself—“
Hook. Line. Sinker.
“‘Scuse you?” I cut him off, puffin’ out my chest like I wasn’t thankin’ my lucky stars he wanted to talk to me. I couldn’t let him think I was weak, afta’ all. “Listen, I ain’t no “effeminate” fella. Say that shit again and you’ll find ya’self bumped off out back. Capiche?”
“Understood, my good man.” He didn’t blink. He didn’t even twitch. His smile stayed unchangin’, and somehow that fact chilled me more than anythin’. Instead, he started watchin’ the canary, lettin’ the silence stretch between us until I followed his gaze. The music lulled me inta a sleepy, dreamlike state. Half conscious. “Might I purchase you another hair of the dog, as they say? Consider it my apology.”
I shrugged, my suit suddenly too stuffy and my collar too tight. “Sure. I guess,” I said, practically mumblin’ as I tugged at the fabric around my throat. I couldn’t breath.
His calloused hands reached fa’ my neck, long fingas’ unfastenin’ one button and then anotha. The tips of his nails grazed my Adam’s apple, causin’ it to bob as I gulped down too much air at once, chokin’ on nothin’.
“Well aren’t you a rough and tumble sort of fellow! Ha ha ha! The name’s Alastor, by the by,” he said with a smirk, cozying up close to me. Too close. “I’m hoping we haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot. I simply saw you and thought to myself, ‘Well, there’s another fish out of water!’ and so here I am to introduce myself,” He prattled on while fetchin’ me anotha’ brown plaid. “Lovely music, wouldn’t you agree? Simply heavenly! Ha ha!”
I nodded in response and drank the liquor like it was water. “I’m An—” I almost gave the bastard my government name, but decided last second that was a shitty idea. The name came to me in like a bad joke. “Call me Angel.”
“Mon Ange? How divine!”
—
Owled. Ossified. All balled up and wall-eyed. I was burnin’ with a blue flame. Half shot. F’got my damn name.
“And then he socked me right in the kissa’ and told me the family would be betta off without me!” I wailed, stumblin’ ova my own two feet. Street lights blurred across my vision, their beams turnin’ sideways and slashin’ through my eyelashes in horizontal flashes. The walls breathed. The ground rolled. Two honey-colored hands steadied my waist, drawin’ me against a pressed golden shirt and a maroon suit jacket. He smelled like cracklin’ fire and burnin’ memories.
We were alone. I could tell, at the very least, we were alone. We were so alone it seemed almost strange how alone we were in New York City. Where were the people on their stoops? Where was the music on the air? Where were the whispers and the secret conversations in dark corners? The only company I could hear were the rats scuttlin’ through bags of trash.
Fear. I first realized somethin’ was wrong when he pressed me up against a brick wall and studied me like I was a fresh cut of meat. His eyes had changed. Amber in the night, glowin’ like the streetlights, so thin and sharp.
I’d had too much to drink. I’d wandered too far. I’d gotten myself inta trouble, just like Molly always worried I would. But I wasn’t afraid to die…
I just… I thought we’d been gettin’ along and…
Of course I’d been wrong.
“Yer gonna kill me,” I said, all matta’-a-fact-like.
He looked surprised, like he hadn’t expected me to clock him, especially not in my starry-eyed state. “Oh?” He leaned in, his breath ghostin’ ova my cheek. “Why— that’s ab-so-lute-ly bananas! I dare say, I would never! Perhaps I’m going to kiss you?”
I smiled then, shakin’ my head. “Nah. Ya don’t fuckin’ like me,” I said, restin’ my noggin against his shoulder and inhalin’ the scent of smoky cedar. One of those firm thighs pressed itself between my legs, pinnin’ me in place as he used his weight to prop up my lanky body. I continued, talkin’ inta the skin of his nape. “I can tell. Ya think I’m just some dumb fuckin’ criminal who oughta disappear and yer… yer gonna kill me.” A pause. The tension crackled between us like static. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”
Somethin’ changed in that moment. He turned into a sculpture: cold and solid with a back rigid as carved marble. “What?” He said. The sickly sweet purr was gone from his voice.
I didn’t miss a beat. “Kill me. Listen, handsome, I know I’m a waste of motha-fuckin air. My life ain’t worth shit. Fuck, it ain’t even MINE, on the level. It’s all just bullshit. I feel like I’m play-actin’. Pretendin’ ta be someone I ain’t— someone normal. I’d rather be dead.”
I was ready fa’ the end. I thought to myself, at least ma wouldn’t be disappointed in me anymore, at least Molly wouldn’t need to worry about me, and at least my dad and Niss would finally be happy without me ruinin’ the family image. Everyone would be betta’ off without me. I didn’t belong anywhere and I was… so tired of forcin’ myself to fit inta a box three sizes too small fa’ my larger than life personality.
Somethin’ poked me in the chest. Somethin’ cold and sharp. His voice lowered inta a hiss, almost a snarl. “Are you sure you wish to expire tonight, my effeminate fellow?”
I offered him my biggest smile, a light-up-the-room sorta smile. “Don’t look so serious, Daddy. Can I call ya Daddy? Consida’ it a public service. Who knows… Maybe i’ll be happier in Hell! Heh. Smile fa me! Y’know, they say ya ain’t neva fully dressed without one.
The world started to fade behind a veil of black lace… but not before a pair of cool lips grazed my cheek. It was barely a kiss— just the ghost of a touch— but it lingered there for so long it began to feel like it had always been there.
I fell back inta that darkness, thinkin’ I wouldn’t wake up… happy to die in this stranger’s arms.
But I guess he had a change of heart.
I woke several hours later: gagged, bound, and stuffed in the backseat of a beat-up old jalopy… headin’ down South to New Orleans.
Ya neva’ f’get your first love. Mine was short, sweet, and a little… unconventional. A little dangerous. A little deadly.
What can I say? He captivated me.
Literally.