Some nights as he dozed in between consciousness and sleep, the best moments played out in his mind as a fantasy. It was mostly the same except that they were alone and acting of their own free will. There wasn't any fear or hurt and Mike got to treat Micky exactly as he had always wanted, the way it should have been the first time. It would begin more or less the same. They came back from the show and were considering how to spend the rest of the evening. The room was lit only by the low-burning fire and Micky stood in front of it, silhouetted by its light. Mike watched as he stretched, reaching over his head and arching his back.

"I don't know, maybe I'll just stay in tonight. I'm kinda tired," Micky said, turning away to look at the fire.

Micky didn't know it but he had been baiting Mike all evening. He had watched as the younger man sang with such feeling and danced with that lithe, easy grace that came so natural to him. And now there he stood totally unaware of the torment he was inflicting. The time would never be more right to see what would happen.

Mike crossed the room to stand close behind him, with Micky seemingly oblivious. He continued to hold his position as Mike reached out to put his hands upon his shoulders and then slide them down his arms as he moved close enough to kiss him. The uncontrollable curls tickled Mike's face as he leaned down to brush his lips against an ear. Micky remained still but couldn't suppress a quiet sigh as the light kisses moved down to his neck. Mike slipped his arms around him with a hand coming to rest over his heart. It was pounding with anticipation. Micky leaned his head back and whispered : "I've been waiting for this for so long."

Despite the open invitation, it was obvious that he was nervous. Mike thought every muscle within that beautiful body felt like a tightly coiled spring. The first thing to do was relieve some of that tension. Micky's lips tasted sweet and were soft but eager as they were kissed over and over and longer each time. After enough of the slow, searching kisses to render them both almost breathless, they moved to the floor in front of the fireplace. There, on the shaggy white rug they spent several moments freeing each other from the constraints of their clothing. As many times as the scene had been relived in his mind, Mike never tired of the image of Micky kneeling on the rug as the waning glow from the fire highlighted every plane, angle and bulge on his tanned skin. Sometimes the others would tease him about being so skinny, but Mike found his soon to be lover absolutely perfect the way he was. He marveled at this perfection as he slowly began to kiss every inch of the exposed skin. Micky laid down and willingly submitted to the ardent attentions being lavished upon him. The things Mike did caused him to writhe with pleasure and cry out and he never wanted it to end. At least in this fantasy he never wanted it to end.

Sadly, the real world was an altogether different matter. The memory mingled with the fantasy of having Micky stretched out full-length beneath him, his scent and taste and feel blocking all other sensations, was beginning to cause a familiar stirring. Maybe he should go downstairs to the couch. It wouldn't be the first time and it often helped him to temporarily escape. Davy and Peter understood to some degree why he did it, but they didn't understand nearly as much as they thought. Mike had never told them what had happened, being positive they wouldn't have believed such a story. "Well you see, it was like this; There was a witch and she made me fuck Micky." Yeah. Sure. They'd accept that. Uh huh. Better to keep things the way they were. As far as they knew, Micky had just up and taken off with no explanation. Technically that was the truth. They had searched for him for days, and had even gone to the police, all for nothing.

It had been a couple of months now, and things were a lot different. They still got gigs, though not as many as before, and each of them had been forced to get day jobs to meet their few expenses. Whoever had a free weekend spent it searching for Micky if there were no shows to do. Mike was going to keep looking until he found him. He wasn't too sure of the others. Peter was depressed and appeared to be losing hope and Davy seemed more angry about it than anything else. Mike raised up on one arm to look at the clock on his nightstand. 4:30 AM. As he lowered himself back down, his eyes accidentally looked across the room at the empty bed. Screw it. He couldn't take it another minute in the lonely room, and it wasn't as though he was going to get anymore sleep.

Mike got up and dressed, pausing to place a note on the kitchen table before leaving the pad. It was deathly quiet outside and there was not even a faint glow on the eastern horizon yet. He put up the rusty kickstand on his bike and pushed it out of the parking lot. It was a World War II era Harley and it was LOUD. It had come into his possession in pieces, the victim of a restoration project gone awry. His boss at the auto salvage yard hadn't seen much potential for profit from it and had let Mike have it in exchange for a little overtime. Lots of careful work got it back together and running, though it was a long way from being a showpiece. Who cared? It got him where he needed to go, and right now he needed to go find Micky. After pushing it far enough away that it wouldn't wake anyone, he jumped on the starter until the engine came to life with a roar and puff of smoke and then he rode away into the early morning darkness.

Apparently, rats didn't need much sleep. That was ok. They'd keep the roaches from getting lonely. Micky watched while the patterns and colors of light on the wall changed in an endlessly repeating cycle. His room was next to the neon sign mounted on the side of the building. When the windows were open he could hear the buzzing as the electricity and neon gas did their thing in the letters that still worked. He shifted himself around on the mattress, hating to move because it stirred up the foul scents trapped inside it. Worry, hunger, and fear of being bitten by a rat kept him wide awake. Micky would never have thought things would come to this. He had been completely on his own for a short time but it felt like forever. Job hunts had been futile and he was always within a day or two of being kicked out of the decrepit hotel he was currently calling home. He missed the pad and the beach and his friends. His eyes stung with building tears at the thought of his real home, but then he quickly reminded himself that probably no one missed him. Surely Mike had told the others what had happened by now. Memories of that night always filled him with feelings of longing and disgust. Since had been alone, his thoughts revolved around that night and the new feelings it had brought up, feelings he didn't even know he had. If only any of it could have been real. Even all this wouldn't be so bad if Mike were there to put his arms around him and tell him it was going to be ok. His eyes stung again. That wasn't going to happen, not ever, so he'd do well to quit living in the past and face reality. He was going to have to take care of the situation himself.

The main source of his problems was the lack of money. He had one more day to scrounge up a few dollars before he was out on the street. It was supposed to be a nice day. He could try dumpster diving in search of returnable bottles again. Only yesterday things had been looking up and his luck maybe changing for the better.

Micky had spent the morning gathering bottles. That added to what he had left from pawning his rings earlier got him enough to keep his room for a couple more days. As he cut through a park on his way back, he had encountered a small, fuzzy dog dragging a leash. The dog came right up to him and so he looked around for the owner. It turned out that the animal belonged to a very distraught old lady who insisted on rewarding him for finding her pet. With that joining the other, he could keep the room for a week and get something decent to eat. That would have been more than enough for him. Even in his current state, he was not greedy, but to top it all off, he actually found a ten dollar bill crumpled and soiled on top of a sewer grate. Oh yes. Things had been looking up. Micky was in such high spirits that he forgot his usual caution and was completely caught off guard when hands reached out and snatched him into the alley just down the block from his hotel.

Blade was happy to have some new prey. Before, it had been looking like another dull-ass afternoon. He and his compatriots had been standing around smoking and swapping lies about what they did with the girls they had met the night before. Same old shit. Maybe later they'd go over to the pool hall or something. Of course none of them had any money, so they'd have to liberate some cash. Blade was about to suggest they go to the park and snatch a purse or shoplift something they could pawn when a flash of color caught his eye. Just who the fuck was this? They knew most of the regulars on the street by sight if not name, and none of them had seen this guy before. His bright clothing and obviously upbeat manner seemed so out of place in the run down neighborhood it was almost offensive somehow. Blade got the attention of his friends and signaled to them what to do. They did it so often and worked together so smoothly, a gesture was all that was required.

Micky briefly saw a few stars when his head whacked against the bricks. He was lifted off his feet, putting him eye to eye with a greasy-looking thug who suddenly reached out to him and grabbed his face in a vise like grip while placing a butterfly knife near his throat. It all happened as a blur and he had no chance to fight. Not that it would have done much good.

"Well, hey there pretty boy," Blade said. "Haven't seen you around before," The two animals holding Micky to the wall snickered at this salutation. Micky was too scared to do anything. His eyes darted back and forth. Surely someone had to see this, but no one was speaking up or coming to the rescue if they did.

Like night and day, Blade's whole demeanor changed from mocking to deadly serious. "Ain't nobody gonna save ya, now turn out your pockets, creep," He said, as he gently pressed the knife against Micky's throat. Micky did as he was told and it hurt more than any beating these guys could give him. All that work for nothing.

Blade grabbed the money, looking surprised at the amount, before jamming it into his own pockets as he flicked his wrist to fold the knife and stash it away. Micky was still pinned against the wall, a sitting duck for whatever this guy wanted to do.

"Where did a creep like you get that kind of money? You're not one of those fags from down on Brier street are ya?"

Micky only nodded in the negative. He didn't know where Brier street was, let alone what the area was notorious for.

"You'd better not be, 'cuz we don't want no fags in our neighborhood." Blade said, as he stepped back and looked at Micky appraisingly. Maybe he ought to kick this guy's ass just on principle. Nah. A warning shot would be enough. He suddenly delivered two fast, hard kidney punches. His accomplices released Micky, who slid down the wall and remained curled up on the ground.

"See you around, pretty boy," Blade said, slipping back into his earlier attitude. The three criminals sauntered out of the alley and down the sidewalk. As soon as he could get up, Micky peeked around the corner of the building to be certain they were gone before slowly continuing to the end of the block to the hotel. The manager eyed him closely, but said nothing as Micky trudged up the dim stairwell to his room. Fuck! So close. Now things were just as bad as before. Worse even, because now those bastards knew he was around. No doubt they would take any and every opportunity to make his life even harder. What was he going to do? He was absolutely penniless. Micky entered the room and after carefully locking the door, collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He tried not to cry even as the tears ran from the corners of his eyes.

And that was where he had stayed for the remainder of the day and into the night. All right, so yesterday was shit. Maybe this would be the day his luck changed. Maybe he would find a job or somehow come into enough money to keep his room AND get something to eat besides a little can of Beany Weenies. With that shred of hope he fell into a light, troubled sleep where things unseen chased and bit at him.

It was getting dark earlier and the nights were becoming chilly and damp. It had been a very, very long day. Long, but unfortunately not productive at all. Mike had been all over the place and no one seemed to recognize Micky from the snapshot he had shown them. The police were not much help, either. With all the real crimes that went on, no one had the time to investigate what looked to them as a simple case of a kid getting bored and taking off for greener pastures. That sort of thing was a common occurrence these days. Mike had been in several clubs and a couple of music stores with the idea that if Mick were with another band, someone surely would remember him. If he was, they didn't. The city was huge. Maybe he was just looking in the wrong places. Or maybe Micky had left a long time ago and this was just all a waste of time. He hated to admit to himself that possibly Davy had the right answer: that if he wanted to be found or to come home, he would have by now. If only they knew what had happened. Deep down Mike knew that Micky might want to come back but didn't think he could. Hell no, how could he thinking Mike was probably lying in wait to take advantage of him again? He silently cursed Angelene for the thousandth time as he continued on his way up the street. It did not go unheard.

The smell of grease and frying food came to Mike as he passed a nondescript diner, and his stomach rumbled in recognition. He had been so intent in his hunt that he had forgotten to eat. Mike considered a moment and then went inside, taking a seat at the counter.

The service was nothing to write home about and neither was the food, but it was something to take away that gnawing feeling. Most things were tasteless and flat to him now, anyway. Mike finished his dinner and sat there idly looking at his coffee cup, turning it around and around in his hands and watching the liquid and some grounds swish back and forth across the bottom. His thoughts were moving in the same endless circle. There had to be a way to find Micky if he was still in town, but how? Too bad he wasn't a mind reader like that bitch Angelene. She could probably find Micky easily. Mike was actually desperate enough he'd ask her to try if he knew where she was. Unfortunately, he had even less of an idea of where to find her than he did Micky. Even her last name was a mystery.

Well, sitting there brooding wasn't going to get anything accomplished. Mike rose from his seat and tossed a couple dollars on the counter. Next up was a check of some more bars that had live music. It was a slim chance, but better than none. He went back out into the fall darkness and down the street to where he had left his bike. As he rounded the corner, he was quite startled to see someone sitting on the machine as though awaiting his return.

Before he could take another step in that direction, something was winding itself around his legs. It was a large, gray striped cat. The animal was purring and looking up at him with yellow eyes that appeared to glow when they caught the light from the street lamps.

The figure slid from the motorcycle and walked toward him. Mike felt a cold dread grip him for no good reason. And then the person spoke in a voice that was all too familiar.

"The name you need is St. Croix, Michael. How are you?"

What a crappy neighborhood. Angelene had seen almost all the town but had dismissed this part, and with good reason. She much preferred the uptown style of living. It had been her intent to move on to another location months ago, and she would have if not for the nagging feeling that she needed to stick around a while longer. She didn't know what was up or why, but when that instinct spoke up, she listened.

Now it looked as though she had found the reason for staying, and also the source of the strong waves of hostility that had been coming her way every few weeks. Another one had hit her that afternoon, and tiring of this nuisance, Angelene had went looking for the source. Living among thousands of people forced someone of her talents to keep the range to a low level, but this time when the stray thought found her, she mentally grabbed on to it and began to trace it backwards like following a string. And now here she was.

"What brings you back to town?" she asked.

"Like you don't know," Mike said with disgust, and then regretted it as a sharp pain tore through his skull. His hands flew up and held the sides of his head until it passed.

"So don't be rude next time. It was a legitimate question, but don't bother answering now. I haven't seen Micky since that night."

"What?"

"When I left, the two of you were snuggled together and out cold. That was the end of it till just now."

"You don't know anything at all?"

"Well now I know as much as you do, of course, but that's no help," she said before turning back to sit down on the motorcycle again.

"What about the rest?" Mike asked, when it became obvious Angelene wasn't going to broach the topic.

"I just told you I don't know anything about where he's gone."

"Yeah, but couldn't you at least try to find him? It's your fault anyway."

"It is not. I can't help that Micky doesn't know what he wants. All I did was show him another option and he got all freaked out. He really needs to work on that self control, you know."

Mike was so infuriated that he was at a loss for words. It would be so deeply satisfying to just throttle her right where she sat! He could almost feel her throat between his hands.

"You can try, but I must advise against it," she said, gently petting the cat who had joined her by leaping gracefully up onto the fuel tank.

"Alright. I'm sorry. Let me try this one more time," Mike said, in a flat, even tone that clearly indicated his extreme shortage of patience. Angelene looked at him brightly and said nothing. "Will you please help me look for Micky? You're the best hope I have. There's nothing else to try." There! That was as humble as he could be, and it was enough to sicken him.

"Do you have anything that belongs to him with you?" Angelene asked.

Mike was so surprised by her response that his mind blanked for a second. Then he remembered the beads. He unfastened his jacket and snaked a hand beneath a flannel shirt and then the t-shirt beneath that, pulling out a strand of love beads. Mike looked as them hesitantly before handing them over. They were Micky's favorites and Mike had been wearing them for a lot of reasons. Angelene twirled the glass and wood beads around her fingers and contemplated them. As soon as they came into her hands, she instantly knew all those reasons. The main one actually surprised her just a little.

"You really do love him, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," Mike said. He stared her right in the eye, daring any kind of commentary. It was the first time he had admitted this to anyone, including himself.

"Okay, lets get down to business."

Angelene placed the beads into the palm of one hand and covered them with the other. She closed her eyes and was silent for a moment before speaking quietly in a language Mike did not recognize. In fact, he couldn't recall ever having heard it before. She continued on in this manner and then turned to the cat who had been watching in silence. He began to purr noisily as the beads were draped around his neck and Angelene cupped his head in her hands and continued speaking the strange words. She finished and removed the necklace from the cat. He meowed and then jumped to the pavement and went off around the corner of a nearby building.

"Do you mind if I hang on to these? It might help."