The Good Neighbors Ch. 17

"Tommy?"

The world plummeted. The bottom had gone out.

"Tommy?"

The phone fell out of his hand and onto the kitchen floor. He was trembling, he noticed vaguely. Not just his hands and fingers, but all of him, right down to the muscles of chest. Why was he shaking?

The Hastings ran around the table toward him. Suddenly he was on the couch. Someone was standing over him.

"Tommy?"

"I have to go," he said quietly. He thought he said it out loud, at least.

"Mel, come look at this," Mr. Hastings whispered.

Tommy looked back at his hands, watching the fingers flutter. Why were they doing that?

The image came back into mind, and he shook his head hard, clearing it away.

"I have to go," Tommy said again.

The old couple were huddled together, whispering. Their faces were deeply lined as they squinted into the small phone they held between them.

How did they get his phone? He couldn't hear what they were saying. But he was certain he didn't want to hear it. He needed to leave. But he couldn't bring himself to stand up.

"I don't think that's your mother," Mrs. Hastings said finally..

The words cut cleanly through the humming fog that had gathered around him. Tommy shook his head, clearing the image away again.

He had to get out of here.

"Who did they leave with last night?" Mr. Hastings asked his wife. "The Ablemans?"

Mrs. Hastings shook her head quickly. "I think it might have been Steve, and his little group." She turned back to Tommy. "They're friends of ours in the city. They like all that kind of stuff -Drinks and food and shows and all that, I mean."

None of the words meant anything to him. The chatter ran on, but he couldn't follow it.

"Were they with Kenneth?" Tommy asked.

"No. Kenneth has his own little group. I think they left not long after you disappeared."

Tommy looked over at them both, watching their face for some kind of deception. But they were both still looking at the picture on the phone.

"I think that might be Holly," Mrs. Hastings said, squinting closer at the screen again. "And that might be Amy there on her back."

Mr. Hastings pulled the phone closer and squinted at it a moment long. "No. Amy's got bigger legs than that. I don't think we know anyone that tan."

Tommy lurched from the couch and snatched the phone from their hands. Before he could think twice about it, he deleted the message and closed his phone.

"I have to go," Tommy told them again. "I have to get out of here. I-" He shook his head again wildly to clear the image. "I have to go. I have to-"

But he didn't know hot to finish. Had to go where?

"You'll sit right here," Mrs. Hastings told him, pushing lightly against his chest. He collapsed weakly back onto the couch.

"You're going to have a cup of tea while we make some phone calls and find out exactly where your parents are. Just breathe. It's okay. You're worrying yourself to death over nothing, I promise."

"I have to leave," Tommy said quietly.

But they weren't listening. They were both shuffling off again toward the kitchen.

His phone chimed in his hand, and he looked down at the screen. More messages from the unsaved number. He deleted them all without reading, then turned his attention to the Hastings' wallpaper, occasionally shaking his head to clear it again.

It was Mrs. Hastings' voice, ten minutes later, that raised high, cutting through the muted chatter. "Ah, that's great to hear!"

She hung up and gestured until her husband hung up, too.

"We found them!" she announced, plopping herself back down at Tommy's side. "They're at the Hilton downtown. They were out having dinner with Steve and that new girlfriend of his, just like I said," she grinned, looking quite proud of herself.

"Do you remember Debbie's friend Tina?" she asked her husband. He gave a shrug. "Well, her brother does something with hotels, so she had all these free points-"

Tommy waved his hands, cutting her off. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," she said, patting him on the knee. "Not that people aren't interested, mind you. But there was a free room available, and so your parents got to have a nice night out on the town. Steve said your parents were packing up their room and heading back home when he called to check on them. That was a half an hour ago, he said."

Tommy listened, but didn't believe it. It was all too good to be true. It was too convenient. Swingers that were after his parents had gotten them drunk, whisked them off to a hotel room, and then just said goodbye? All these people did was push for more. And it was this single moment that they decided to have some restraint?

There was no way to ever be certain that his parents hadn't been dragged into something. There was nothing he could check to figure out if these people were lying. Only the people who had been there would ever know. And that wasn't good enough.

"Then who were the women in the photo?" Tommy asked.

The woman bending over, pained as he was to consider it, she certainly matched the shape and complexion of his mother. It was hard to tell much more than that in the dim lighting, though.

The Hastings shook their heads. "We don't know. But we'll find out," Mr. Hastings told him.

"Marty here loves to get to the bottom of these kinds of things," Mrs. Hastings told him. "And Kenneth loves to gossip. We'll know who they were before long. And then we'll have a nice long talk with him about his manners."

Tommy didn't believe them, but his hands were no longer trembling as badly. There was at least a chance he had been wrong.

"I should go," Tommy said, rising to leave. "Before my parents get home."

Mrs. Hastings handed him a mug of tea and urged him to sit again. "But why? There's no reason to leave now. I told you, we'll keep calling around until we know something. If it saves you the worry, you should stay."

Tommy shook his head again. "There's still the bruise," he said, gesturing to his face. "I don't want them to see me when they get back. Or I don't want to see them, I guess. I... just need to get out of here. I need to get away from this for, like, a day. All of this is just... way too much.."

"Where would you even go?"

"I stayed with Mrs. Gr-, Doris, I mean, last night. She said I could stay at her apartment for awhile."

"The one in the city? How are you going to get out there?"

Tommy raised his cup to drink, but he set it back down again instead. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Any chance you guys could give me a ride?" he asked.

"Or," he said, sitting up straighter, "Do you know anyone who might be looking to sell their car? I think I can afford one now, at least."

It was the one upside to getting to know every old creep in town.

They gave each other a long look. "Well, we can ask around while we're making calls, I suppose. I'm sure we can find you something. And you can have that ride once you've finished your tea and rested a bit. You look exhausted, dear."

Tommy drank in sullen silence, his mind too frantic to worry about any one thing in particular. The tea made his fingers tremble again, so he set it aside and waited.

"What do you think about her?" Mr. Hastings said.

Tommy blinked up at the old man's phone. A woman with long black hair was nude, chained against a wall, her lithe body glistening, her bottom lined in red handprints.

"She's... nice. I guess."

"No," Mr. Hastings laughed. "Do you think she's the girl on her back? That's Hallie. She used to come by here. Moved out of town or something after Christmas. Filthy girl."

Tommy leaned in closer. Her legs were certainly thin enough, but it was hard to tell anything more than that. "Kenneth always did have a thing for her. He likes the Asian ones."

Tommy nodded, trying not to grimace at the comment. "Yeah, could be her."

The old man wasn't finished. He flickered around for a moment, and then pulled up another. A woman was hog-tied and looking into the camera with a gag in her mouth. She was blonde, freckled, and a bit too short to match the girl from the photo.

Mr. Hastings continued flicking through photos. More and more, a seemingly endless number of them.

"Jesus," Tommy muttered, unable to stop himself. He waved the phone away. "How many girls have been in here?"

Mr. Hastings just grinned.

Five minutes later, Tommy set down his empty mug and called an end to the search.

"I'll get a taxi, if it's too much trouble."

That got them cave, and a few minutes later he ran to their minivan before anyone could see him. He hid his head until they were on the highway, just in case his parents drove past in the other direction.

Mrs. Greene texted him as they reached the city limits. She had to leave, but she would hide her key under the doormat.

"You're welcome to stay for as long as you need. Within reason <3" she wrote.

"By the way," she added, "I'm on my third pair of panties already. I can't seem to quit dripping you fellows out of me..."

Tommy waved goodbye to the Hastings as they pulled into the parking lot. He kissed them both, then ran upstairs, opened the door, and collapsed onto the soiled mattress. He curled up in a beam of sunlight, turned off his phone, and fell promptly asleep in the warm silence.

He woke, ate, and slept again without talking to anyone. When the sun rose again, the ache is in his muscles had gone, and a new realization had taken hold of him: He was on his own. He had an apartment all to himself. He had the city all around him, all within walking distance. He still had half the summer left ahead of him. And he had money burning a hole in his pocket.

He rolled to his feet, then hissed in a breath. The skin on his back had stuck to the filthy fabric sheets, and it had to be peeled back off of it. When he was free, he balled up the linens and pressed them into a small washing machine he found in her hallway. Then he dragged her furniture back in place and scrubbed the floors and counters down as best he could. After a long, hot shower, he emerged back into a spotless, sunny home; just as fine as when he had first seen it.

He took the stairs down two at a time, and the slipped out the front door into the morning sunlight. The crowded sidewalk outside carried him along like a current from a stream, off toward the smell of baked goods and the sound of soft music.

He hadn't seen this part of town before. It was all young and hip, not the kind of his place his parents would bring him to. Coffee shops, tattoo parlors, trendy restaurants, and boutique shops lined every street. It was still too early for most of them to open, though. He walked for three blocks, turned around, and took it all in again. It was wonderful.

By noon, most of the stores had opened. And, though the crowds were young, they were still a few years older than him. So he kept to himself, peaking into shops when they were crowded enough that he could sneak in, unnoticed. Before long, though, the smell of freshly baked pastries and roasting meats became too much to resist. His stomach was empty.

He found a coffee shop with pre-packaged food, so he wouldn't have to sit by himself. He gazed around at the menu as he waited in line, taking in the prices. Suddenly, the thick folds of cash in his pocket didn't seem like quite so much. Especially now that he had decided to buy a car. That was most of it gone already.

But, by the time he was ready to order, his stomach had won out over any kind of sense. And then, eventually, it won out over embarrassment, too. He carried his heavy tray over to a small table near the window and started on it before he could even sit down.

As he worked his way through two sandwiches, a drink, a slice of cake, a bag of chips, and a bread bowl full of soup, he tried to think of when the last time he had eaten a proper meal had been. Other than a few scraps, he hadn't eaten any real food in days. With that in mind, he felt a lot less guilty when he got up and ordered another tray's worth.

"No way," he heard someone breathe behind him, as he sat back down at the table.

Tommy jumped, and turned quickly, worried he might find a familiar face. It was a girl seated at the table beside him. She watched him with her mouth opened wide. She seemed about his age, and she had Greek letters along her shirt. She was pale, and had her brown hair in a tight ponytail. She didn't look familiar at all. But she was very cute.

"There's no way you're going to eat more."

Tommy looked down at his plate again. His empty belly rumbled weakly. He looked back at her.

The other tables around them had cleared away as lunchtime pushed toward late afternoon. They were quite alone.

Tommy blinked back at her, then back down at his food again.

"I could save some of it?" he offered.

"It's not even possible," the girl replied, shaking her head in awe. "Did you just run a marathon?"

Tommy stuffed the sandwich into his mouth and swallowed down half of it. "Something like that," he shrugged.

She watched him for a few minutes more.

A brief fantasy began to play through his mind. He'd get up, and sit smoothly right down beside her. She'd laugh at his jokes. The hours would pass quickly as they talked. He'd hold her hand on the way out the door. They'd meet again. See a movie. He'd take her back to his bed. She'd introduce him to her friends and her family. They would have something sweet. A beautiful little life.

He went back to attacking his food in silence. After awhile, she slid from her seat, packed up her things slowly, and left without looking back at him. Tommy watched her disappear back into the flow of people outside.

"Oof," someone muttered.

Tommy turned back around. A man was wiping down the table the girl had just left. He was lanky, and wearing the white uniform of an employee there.

"I think you could have had her number, kid."

Tommy nodded, and looked back out the window for a glimpse of her again. "It did occur to me."

It was what normal people wanted, wasn't it? A life without drama, and stress, and messy tangles of depravity? An easy, happy life?

"She not your type?" the man asked.

Tommy shook his head. "I guess not." He finished the last of his drink and considered it for a moment. "I'm not sure that I even have a type," he thought out loud.

The stranger laughed at that. "Indiscriminate," the man said, "Damn. Respect."

When he finished emptying the girl's table, he took Tommy's empty tray, too. Then he flipped the door's sign over to "Closed" and headed back behind the counter.

"We're closing up in a minute. Did you want anything else before I lock up?"

Tommy shook his head and glanced back out the front window. The crowds had died down, but people still poured past, too many to register. All with sweet, eager faces, all grinning, all walking past in twos or threes. No one was alone. There were endless flocks of them all. It should have been so easy to walk out there and join them. To find a new friend, and start a new life. To be with people that weren't wretched.

Tommy grabbed the door knob, and then let go.

"Do you want me to suck your cock?" Tommy asked, turning back around.

The man behind the counter fiddled with the espresso machine. He turned and cocked his head. "What?"

"I don't think it'll take me long."

The man stopped wiping down the machine. He blinked a few times, and took a step back. But he didn't say no.

Tommy walked closer, ducking beneath the door of the counter. He dropped to his knees and undid the man's fly.

"I don't-" the man stammered. He raised his hands, as if to push the boy away.

Tommy's fingers stretched through the man's boxers.

"I'm not-"

But what the man was not, he never said. Tommy shut his eyes and went to work. And, as promised, it didn't take him long.

As the first hard spray splashed against Tommy's throat, the man pulled out. The next sprays struck across Tommy's cheek and shirt, going wild as the man tried to escape.

"Shit! Sorry! Sorry!" the man choked out, spinning away to hide his cock and falling against the counter.

Tommy licked up as much of the mess as he could, working slowly. Then he crept back under the counter. The man didn't turn around again as Tommy slipped back out the door and onto the sidewalk. He pushed his way into the crowd and headed home.