On a Roll

Chapter 1-2

“There aren’t so many times that I miss being at home,” Beau said. He didn’t look away from the unappetizing mess on his plate. He wasn’t even certain what it was supposed to be. Cheese with tomato sauce over some sort of pasta with a side of limp greens and soggy garlic bread. “But dinner sure is one of them.”

Vin swiped his student ID. “I don’t eat on campus most of the time. I’m not that adventurous.”

“So why are you eating here tonight?” Beau asked.

“I didn’t think you’d be real comfortable if I offered to take you to dinner.”

“Maybe next week.” Uncomfortable wasn’t the right word. A chorus line of butterflies kicked it out in his lower belly, accompanied by a ribbon of warmth.

“After the meeting?”

Pushy. “Are you recruiting?”

They found empty seats, hard plastic, and a battered table, in a back corner. The hum of voices in the room drowned out the slight clatter of Beau’s tray. Ah, fine dining.

“No.” Vin was firm, his eyes steady. “We’re not allowed. Hell, we’re not even allowed to have a booth for freshman orientation. We might make the new students upset.”

“Yeah, I know I didn’t see you at the frosh-or. Got the flier off the pile outside the coffee shop. You can’t even put them up on campus?” Beau shook his head. “How’s anyone supposed to know about it?”

“Well, we do have townside support,” Vin said. “Or I do, leastways. Been working it up for the last few years since I joined the GSA. So there’s fliers at the cafe, a few of the local restaurants, and of course the Screech has a big poster up.”

“The…huh?” From the corner of his eye, Beau saw a group of students point, say something that was meant to be overheard, but he couldn’t quite catch it, over all the rumble in the caf. The hostile, mocking laughter was unmistakable, however. He’d heard that before, although never directed toward him. Beau turned all his attention toward his tablemate, as if he’d noticed nothing. “What’s a Screech?”

“Local bar. They have a college night, on Thursdays. Nonalcoholic drinks, dancing, local bands. Most of the brewskis are frat boys and they don’t go. So, we sort of took it over. The owner doesn’t mind; he’s a friend.”

“And they have music that’s worth listening to?” A bar called Screech? Truth in advertising, maybe. The group of students to the left were now involved in shenanigans, pretending that all the muscles in their wrists had gone out, making kissy-duck faces at each other. Jesus Christ, didn’t people have something better to do?

Vin shrugged. “Depends what you’re into. Sometimes. There’s a duet, Always Room for Cello, that does some good stuff. Violinist and cellist. Good singers. They do weird mashups of classical music and punk.” Vin poked at the remaining noodles on his plate. “You still eating, or you ready to give your intestines a break?”

“I expect if I eat much more of this,” Beau said, “I’ll regret it the rest of my life.” All ten minutes of it. Really? He’d been out of the closet for all of an hour and he was already getting bashed? Time to go. He picked up his tray and headed for the trashcans.

And here they came. Beau tracked four, no, there was a fifth who had skipped ahead to perch on a chair directly in Beau and Vin’s path.

“Hold this for a second, would you, Vin?” Beau handed Vin his drink cup. As far as Beau could tell, Vin hadn’t even glommed onto the incoming—how was that possible? Was he really that clueless? Or did he feel that same sheep-safe sense of security that most people did, and Beau was only noticing because he was on edge?

There went the out-stretched leg from the guy who’d dashed ahead, aiming to trip Vin and let him fall in the mess of leftover pasta and sauce. Without missing a beat, Beau kicked the guy in the back of the knee, steering the chattering Vin—still oblivious—around the obstruction.

A second guy, hands out as if to grab, appeared directly in their way. “Where d’you think…” Beau didn’t wait for him to finish.

“Oh, thanks, dude!” Beau handed the tray off to the menacing guy. Startled, the guy took the tray, uncertain what to do with it. “See ya around.” Beau got Vin a few steps away as Menace threw the tray down to the floor, splattering sauce all over a few girls, who shrieked with indignation. Beau checked the scene, ducked under an attempted clothesline from a third attacker. Beau slammed his shoulder into the guy’s chest, knocking him back, and then pushed Vin out the door.

Behind them, Trip was already on his feet and closing fast.

“Can you run?” Beau said.

“Huh? Yeah, if the situation calls for it.” Vin stopped, looked back. Trip rammed the door open, his face dark with anger, a smear of spaghetti across his T-shirt. Beau grabbed Vin’s shoulder and propelled him forward.

“The situation does. Let’s move, okay?”

Out the main lobby door, down the stairs, Beau leading, but Vin guiding with soft calls of “left up here,” they ended up in a narrow space between two of the academic buildings, the view from the north end of the alley blocked by overgrown shrubbery.

“So, what were we running from?” Vin leaned against the brick, tilting his head up to look at the sky, his chest heaving as he panted for breath. Beau watched him, feeling that familiar ache. At least he knew what it was now, and why he felt it. Damn, that boy was attractive. A flush of shameful desire, guilt warring with wanting rushed through him, leaving him breathless the way running never did. He panted for a moment, hands on his knees.

“You really didn’t see ‘em?”

“See—”

A shadow stepped into the alley, attached to the would-be tripper. “Yeah, go ahead, tell him what he should have seen, faggot.” Trip raised his voice, intending to scream for his cohorts, without a doubt. “GU—”

“Fuck.” No help for it there. One, Beau could handle. Two in tight quarters, maybe. More than two? Not so much. Step, catch, twist, and Trip was up against the wall, face pressed to the crumbling brick, wrist up between his shoulder blades.

“Ow! Damn it, f*****g COCKSU—”

Slam! Grunt. Silence.

“Shut up, Trip.” Beau was quiet, his voice persuasive. He knew schoolyard fights. Had always known them. “You don’t want your friends to see you here like this, do you? Pinned up against the wall, helpless? Right now, only your pride is hurt. You think they won’t hesitate to wonder if you liked it? If maybe you let me hold you like this?”

Trip struggled, as Beau knew he would. Beau wrenched the arm up higher. That stopped him quick, matter of leverage there. Only a really good fighter could get out of some grips, and random assholes trying to prove their masculinity were rarely good fighters. “Shhhh…shhhhh. You don’t want me to dislocate your shoulder, bro. That takes a while to heal, and it hurts like hell in the meanwhile. Relax.”

“Chris.” Vin’s voice, more saddened and regretful than shocked.

“You know this asshole, Vin?”

“My frosh roommate. I made mistakes.” The light brown eyes flickered up to meet Beau’s gaze. “Sorry.”

“When my boys get here—” Chris blustered. There was a strange clicking noise to the left; Beau risked a glance. Vin shrugged one shoulder and tucked something into his pocket.

“They’ll probably kick my ass, I know,” Beau said. “You think I can’t count? But in the meanwhile, you’ll still have a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder. Can you count, hmm? You like those odds? I advise you to walk away. Live to be an asshole another day.” He loosened his hold, waited, stepped back. Beau didn’t let his guard down—assholes were sometimes really, really stupid. Chris turned, brick imprinted on his cheek.

“You’re dead meat, fag.” Chris was trying for intimidating, but his voice cracked in the middle. Like a spider, Chris was just as frightened of Beau as Beau was of him.

Beau stepped up, nose to nose with him. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll try. Know this: if your friends jump me, I will make it a point to hurt you. Not them. Just you. Do you think I can do that, bro? Just you?” Menacing. Quiet. Confident.

“Yeah.” Chris was also quiet.

“Go on, then.”

Chris ran off, not looking back.

Vin was staring, eyes wide. “Do you even lift?”

“We should get out of here,” Beau suggested.

“That was the most awesome thing I have ever seen! My hero! You are one dangerous man!” Vin was laughing, high on adrenaline and amazement.

“I’m going to be one dead man, and so are you, if we hang around here much longer.”

“I know a place we can chill.”