Logan, page 10
part #2 of Tough London Series
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ He counters.
‘I don’t know,’ I say.
‘Well I can tell you why I didn’t say anything,’ he continues. ‘I’ve got a couple really good reasons.’
‘Is it because of the riot?’ I ask.
‘No. It’s because I wanted to give you a chance. I didn’t want to just dismiss you because you were a prisoner. Heck, I didn’t even want to dismiss you because you started a riot while I was there.’
‘Damn,’ I say. And I mean it. I can’t believe that he’s such a good person. At least he doesn’t know my big secret. That I’ve been obsessed with him ever since I met him. ‘You know your lessons really helped me get through my time inside. I was devastated when they stopped. It was a big part of my weekly routine. Like, it was something I looked forward to every week.’
I can tell he’s getting frustrated the more I speak. I didn’t know why he’s getting angry. I’m trying to be nice.
He steps back from the easel and rubs his temple.
‘This isn’t working.’ His eyes narrow.
15
CLARK
* * *
I’m seething. If Logan had loved my art classes so much, why on earth had he started a fucking riot in the middle of one of my lessons? I still don’t understand why he hasn’t told me about remembering me from prison, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it.
My sketching is not going well. Maybe that’s adding to my frustration. I just can’t quite get the essence of him from the work. I know what I need, and that’s to see more of him, to really work out what makes him tick.
I want him naked. Stripped. I want to see how his body works, how his parts fit together. I want to see those abs, his pecs, the space between his legs.
There’s a fug growing in my brain, a swirling mist of lust and creation, and I can’t shake it off.
But I can’t ask him to strip for me. It’s ludicrous.
Come on, Clark — snap out of it.
So maybe I can get to know him better by getting some honesty, some emotional truth from him. Maybe that will help me to understand him.
‘So tell me,’ I say, as he tries to reposition to give me a better perspective, ‘did you just start that riot for fun, or was it part of some kind of escape plan or what?’
‘Escape plan?’
‘I don’t know,’ I sigh. ‘What is it that prisoners do? I heard that prisoners are the most manipulative people you’ll ever meet. In fact it was part of my training when I first started at that place.’
Now it’s his turn to sigh.
‘I guess prisoners are pretty manipulative, it’s true. But to be honest, I was never very good at being a prisoner. You know, I followed the rules. Obeyed the guards. I kept myself to myself. I didn’t join any gangs. I never owed anyone anything. I didn’t hurt anyone.’
‘I guess you were the model prisoner until you started a riot.’ It’s impossible to keep the scorn from my voice. I can’t believe the story this guy is spinning. Why can[’t he just be honest with me?
‘Look,’ he says, an exasperated expression on his face, ‘it was complicated OK. That day was very stressful for me.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry it was so stressful for you.’
‘I’ll explain, if you give me a chance.’ His expression right now is priceless. If only I could get something like this in a painting. The indignation, the vulnerability, the hardness of his look.
‘Go ahead,’ I reply. ‘I’m not trying to stop you from talking.’
‘Well, you see, there was a guy in prison I didn’t get on with so well. He was a nasty piece of work. Some nazi scumbag, cruel and ruthless. From the day I arrived in Pentonville he was on my back. He would try to get stuff out of me. Now, as I mentioned, I’d heard that it was important to never show any weakness. So I used to talk back to him just as bad as he gave to me, and when he used to try to extort things from me, I used to tell him to get fucked.’
I flinch. I can’t help it.
‘You swear a lot, you know that?’
‘You know what? I’ve noticed.’
‘Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to?’
‘Guess what,’ he says. ‘ I didn’t have such a good relationship with my mom.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not important. Anyway, like I say, this guy was on my back ever since I arrived, and it kept getting worse and worse. He even got physical with me a couple times but I’ve always pushed back. It was nerve-wracking, because there was no way to know he didn’t have a shiv or whatever, and I heard stories about guys being beaten up all the time.’
He looks uncomfortable.
‘Now the thing is, your art class was a real sanctuary for me. I didn’t have to deal with that prick and his cronies while I was at the class. He didn’t have any interest in art, thank God. I don’t think he had any interest in anything except violence, to be honest. So I knew that once a week, I could enjoy myself and didn’t have to dread seeing him.’
‘Let me guess,’ I say, ‘that changed?’
‘Right,’ I say. ‘He must have found out I was going to those art classes somehow, because he started showing up, and basically bullying me while I was there. Now I can take bullying. People have being trying to take advantage of me my whole life. But it was so tiresome, having the one good thing in my life turned to shit right in front of me.’
I can see the anger building in his face as he goes over the memory in his mind.
‘I could deal with it though, until he started mocking you.’
Mocking me? What did I have to do with any of this.
‘What do you mean?’ I say.
‘First he started with name calling. Homophobic stuff. Real ugly. I don’t want to repeat it.’
I feel the colour draining away from my face.
‘He did it whenever you weren’t looking, the coward. It was pretty much nonstop to be honest. I could deal with it, even though it made me pretty angry.’
‘Why did you care about it?’
‘I just did, alright?’ he says, his eyes flashing with rage. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to lose it, but he keeps his cool.
I try to keep calm and keep drawing, but the truth is finally beginning to dawn on me.
He liked me. He must have done. Why else would he have cared what anyone had said about me?
‘When he started drawing the pictures, that was the final straw.’
‘Pictures?’
‘Dumb stuff, really, childish. But they got to me. I’d stuck up for you a couple times. Told him to shut his mouth. He must have worked it out. Started drawing pictures of you and me. Together.’
I flick my eyes up from the drawing for just a moment. Logan’s holding his left fist in his right hand, looking down.
‘So I decided enough was enough. And I swung for him. Until then I’d done everything right. But he was trying to take away the one thing that kept me going. The one thing that had kept me sane. And I couldn’t let him do that, not after what I’d been through, after what had happened to me.’
‘Logan,’ I say, ‘are you OK?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I’m just fine, I just, I think I need a break. Is that alright?’
‘Of course. Take as long as you need.’
He puts his coat on, and left.
I feel as though he’s going to be gone forever, but to my amazement, he’s back within five minutes. I don’t know what he did, but when he comes back he seems more calm, more happy.
Before I even have the chance to greet him, he opens his palms in a gesture of confession.
‘Look,’ he says. ‘The thing is, I didn’t tell you that I remembered you from prison for a very good reason. I had a crush on you. I mean a big one. Now, I don’t know if it was just because you were my art teacher or whatever, but at the time it real to me. Like, really real.’ He thumps himself on the chest. ‘I it right there.’
As he thumps his heart, I feel my own pounding in my chest. It feels tight in there, like it’s fighting to get out. I want him to see my heart, so that he can see the feelings I have for him too. Because the more he speaks, the more I get to see what he’s really like, the sensitive soul inside the bad-boy exterior, the more I feel like I’m falling for this guy.
‘The thing is, it good to hit that jerk. But I only hit him once. The riot was all of his cronies piling on me, like the cowards they all were. They would never start something, they just knew they had to back him up after I’d already taken a shot. I shouldn’t have done it though. And I know that you got really badly affected by it. And it meant that I had to spend time in solitary. I was lucky they didn’t add extra time onto my sentence. But, I guess all my good behaviour counted for something at least.’
There’s a dangerous feeling growing in me. And I can’t stop it. Even though I know it’s dangerous, even though I know that any of my friends would have told me not to act on the thought, to step back, I know I want to dive right in.
‘Logan,’ I say, my body shaking with nerves, ‘the modelling really isn’t working, and I know why.’
He looks disappointed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m trying my best to keep still and make my expression consistent.’ He has such beautiful brown eyes. I’ve never noticed how deep and soulful they are. When he looks hurt like this, his whole face comes alive.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not your fault.’ I reply. ‘The thing is, I think it would work so much better if I could see a little more of you.’ I head over to the draw in which I’ve got my dirty sketches of Logan stashed. ‘I’ve got a confession to make. You see, when I first thought I’d be interested in drawing you, I had this kind of thing in mind.’ I take out a sketch of his abs I made a few days ago.
‘What’s that?’ he says. Then his eyes widen. ‘Oh, I see. Well, that’s not what I signed up for. But I think maybe we could do it, see what happens.’
‘Well,’ I say, my heart fluttering like a butterfly, ‘if you’d like, I can leave the room while you get changed?’
‘No no,’ he says, a filthy look in his eye. ‘Don’t worry about that. I figure if you’re going to see me with my top off, there’s no harm in my taking it off for you.’ He smiles.
He stands up from the chair and reaches down to the bottom of his shirt. I can’t believe this is happening. I watch his thick arms as they flex and tense. His tattoos are beautiful. I haven’t even thought about how I might draw or paint his body art. The ink seems to shift as I watch him take his top off.
I wasn’t prepared for how many tats he has on his torso. They go all the way down, numbers and letters in Gothic print over his chest, and tracings of Japanese cherry blossoms over his abs. And his abs are not as I’d imagined at all. They’re more clearly defined, more lean, more muscular, just like the sides of his body. He looks like an animal, a fighter, a machine.
Imagine what that body could do to me. Imagine what those hands, those muscles, that powerful torso would do to my delicate body.
Imagine his deep, tanned skin against my pale white.
I feel my cock, stirring in my trousers, and my brow moistening with sweat.
‘Well OK,’ I say, like the horny dweeb I am.
‘Well OK?’ he replies. ‘So how do you want me? Standing up? Sitting down.’ He starts to pull all kinds of ludicrous poses. ‘How about like this?’ he flexes his muscles and pulls a classic bodybuilder stance. I know he’s just goofing around, but he still looked freaking hot. I have to shift around so that he doesn’t notice my fast growing erection.
‘Where did you learn to pull poses like that?’ I say, trying my best to flirt with him. ‘I didn’t know you’d been to a modelling academy.’
‘Didn’t you see me on America’s next top model?’
‘I must have missed that season,’ I say, trying not to laugh.
‘Look,’ he says. ‘I’m pretty bad at this, I’ll admit it. Maybe you should come over here and show me how you want me to stand?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like come over here and pose me so I know how you want me.’
So I step over to him, hoping he doesn’t look at my crotch. I know I’m probably imagining it, but it is like I can feel waves of heat coming off his body. He’s so lean, so toned, so sexual. I feel as though he’s been built for sex.
I take a deep breath then I lay my hand on his shoulder and push gently, trying not to shake as I do so. His skin is warm and smooth, and his muscles feel so firm beneath it. I’m so nervous. It feels like tiny currents of electricity are swirling under the skin of my palms.
‘How’s this?’ I say, pushing his rock-solid torso round.
‘That feels good,’ he says.
‘You mean, it feels like it might look good?’
‘I mean that it feels good.’ His voice is suddenly deep, dark. He moves his hand onto mine and I feel a flutter of pure excitement smash around my chest. I look deep into his eyes, feeling myself fall fully into them, their warmth drawing me in like a vortex.
I can’t help it, I lean in closer. I can smell his body — a cool, fresh smell, something like metal and the spray of a sea. I close my eyes and breathe in deep and move my hand onto his chest. I the rise and fall of his pecs as he draws breath, I feel his heart beating hard inside. It’s thuds quickly with a deep, strong resonance. I feel him shift and his big hands grip my hips. He pulls me into his chest.
‘No,’ I say, pathetically. I don’t know why I say it, but for some reason I can’t help myself. I want it. He looks at me and pulls back. I feel my lip quiver and I say, quiet and soft, ‘Yes.’
‘What did you say?’ He draws me closer to him.
‘I said yes!’
He grabs me like a beast, holds me tight and finds my lips with his. For a moment, I feel the heat of him, the lust, the longing. Then, like a thunderclap, there’s a shocking smack on the window.
‘Clark!’ A voice outside. A voice I recognise all too well.
I pull away, look over at Logan.
Of course, it was Ryan. Of course, he was angry. Of course, he was here to ruin my life.
16
LOGAN
* * *
I’d been so God Damn close to Clark. I could feel the fucking heat coming off his body. It was an intense experience, like nothing I’ve ever been through before. It was like our bodies were being pushed together by a force that neither of us could understand. It right. It sexy, and it good.
And then, some jerk starts shouting at the window.
‘Clark!’ It’s an angry, desperate voice. I move over to the window, part the slats of the blinds.
There’s a man outside looking right at me. His eyes are large and white, and I can see his teeth. It’s like he’s snarling like an animal. He keeps his eyes trained on me and bashes the door with an angry fist.
Clark rushes over to the window and bellows at the man.
‘Go away, Ryan.’ He’s trying to be tough, but I can see that he’s scared.
‘Do you want me to deal with this?’ I ask. I reach for my shirt and get it half over my shoulders before I hear Ryan banging on the front door again. It’s like he’s trying to break it down.
‘No,’ says Clark, a look of panic in his eyes. ‘I can deal with it. Or maybe he might go away if we just leave it?’
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ The banging on the door continues.
‘Who the fuck are you in there with, slut? Who’s the pretty boy. I see you together in there. You know that’s my husband?’
I look at Clark.
‘Is that true? Are you married.’
Clark has this annoyed look mixed in with his fear now. He rolls his eyes.
‘Technically,’ he admits.
‘Oh, just technically,’ I reply. ‘Well that’s alright then.’
Ryan starts to bang harder and harder.
‘Look, Logan,’ says Clark, gripping my arm with a strong little hand. ‘That guy is bad news. He’s…dangerous.’ Maybe he realises just how ridiculous it is to warn me that someone else is dangerous, or maybe he’s just had enough. Maybe he’s so scared that he wants something to be done.
‘I can get rid of him.’ I look him in the eye, trying to give some of my confidence to Clark, to help him relax.
‘OK,’ he says, biting his lip. ‘Please just make him go away. I’ll explain everything after he’s gone. Just. Please, make him go away.’
As I walk over to the door, I reflect on the fucked-up rollercoaster of emotions I’ve been on today. Apprehension, excitement, vulnerability, arousal, surprise and shock. I haven’t had such a crazy day for years — maybe ever in my whole life. It’s weird, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. But at the same time, it’s the most alive I can remember feeling for ages.
I unlock the door and push it open.
‘Look mate,’ I start, but before I can say anything else, the prick is trying to push his way past me. He’s furious. Like, anger-management problem furious.
‘Get the fuck out of my way,’ he growls, trying to shove me out of the way. I feel glad to have my shirt back on. Nothing would have been more embarrassing than potentially having a tussle with this guy half naked.
‘You’re not going anywhere, amigo,’ I insist. He steps back from me.
‘Look,’ he says, a nasty look glinting in his eye. ‘I’m gonna ask one more time nicely for you to get out of my way. You don’t know what you’re getting involved in here, mate, and believe me, you don’t want anything to do with the situation. So just do your shirt up, and fuck off.’
I hold my ground. I’ve dealt with pieces of shit like this guy before. He’s acting exactly as I thought he would. First, aggression. Unbridled rage. That’s to show me that he’s serious, and dangerous of course. Second, comes the more reasoned, but still threatening bargaining. He’s trying to take control of the situation in any way he can, probing to see what kind of psychological trick might make me fold.
