Children of the Knight (65 page)

Jack shook his head. “No, but I got a friend in Hollywood who could help—” He stopped suddenly, his face lighting up with a revelation. “Never mind that. I know
exactly
where he is.”

“I shalt go with thee,” Arthur said immediately, all else forgotten.

“Then who’ll go with me to buy the stuff?” Reyna asked cautiously. “I’m not a legal adult yet, remember?”

“She’s right, Arthur,” Jack put in. He didn’t really want Arthur to go. He needed time with Lance first. “The needs of the whole company, remember?”

Arthur sighed wearily. “Very well. But call the moment ye find him, Sir Jack, and bring him here to me at once.”

“I won’t fail you again, Arthur,” Jack insisted, and he meant it too. He gave Chris a high five and took off running through the tunnels.

“Ready, Arthur?” Reyna asked, checking her phone for any new pix of Esteban. Lately he’d been sending her some shirtless shots, the big show-off. But he had a fantastic bod, and Reyna didn’t mind in the least. Alas, no new ones. She looked up and saw Arthur fiddling with his phone. “Message from Lance?”

He shook his head. “Nay, I was going to text him, but it doth not seem to be working.”

She took it and tried to turn it on, but nothing happened.

“He forgot to charge it again,” piped up Chris, watching them from his chair. “I’ll do it.” He jumped off the chair, took Arthur’s phone, and plugged it into the generator.

A generous benefactor had given Arthur a sizable generator for when he might need power along his various journeys. Mostly he kept it here in The Hub and used it to power electric lights and electronics like these cellular phones. Its constant hum added almost musical accompaniment to the usual dripping of water.

“When’s Lance coming back, Arthur?” Chris asked in that sweetly innocent voice while plugging in the phone. “Will Jack find him?”

He finished and turned back to Arthur, his young face open and questioning. The king offered the best smile he could conjure under the circumstances. “Yes, Chris, soon.”

Reyna held out her phone casually. “You can use mine today and tonight for the operation too, if you need it. I’ll be with Este, so you can reach me on his phone.” She handed him her leather-encased phone. “Oh, and don’t look at the pictures.”

Arthur tossed her a puzzled look as the three of them headed out to her car.

J
ACK
boarded the first Metro bus headed for Hollywood, slumped down in his seat with one arm draped across his face, and feigned sleep. He absolutely wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at or autograph-hounded as one of Arthur’s world-famous knights. He was too hyped up with anticipation, hoping and praying he was right and Lance would be there.
Still
be there, anyway, for he knew in his heart where his friend had spent the night.

And why not?

It was where he wished to be all the time too.

As expected, he found Lance off Cosmo Street, sitting behind the dumpster, leaning up against the dirty brick wall in exactly the spot where they’d found Mark’s body. Had it just been yesterday, Jack reflected, his heart lurching violently?

Lance looked tired and a bit disheveled, like a lost puppy, but otherwise unharmed. Jack felt an almost overpowering urge to scoop the younger boy into his arms and never let him go. But he held back.

Lance looked up, long hair draping his broadening shoulders, eyes pensive, but unstained by tears. He had not been crying—just meditating.

“You okay?” Jack asked, almost a whisper, fighting to control his voice.

Lance nodded.

“May I?” Jack indicated the spot beside him.

Lance nodded again, and Jack sat right beside him so their bodies touched. He needed that human contact and figured Lance needed it too. “I knew you’d be here,” Jack said with a sigh. “It’s where I would’ve gone.”

No answer.

“What are you thinking about?” Jack asked cautiously.

“Mark,” Lance answered hollowly. “And you.”

Jack eyed him quizzically. “Me?”

Lance turned his head, those sad green eyes settling on Jack. “When did you know you were in love with Mark?”

Jack’s heart leapt into his throat, and his breath momentarily stopped. The question blindsided him, and he took a moment before answering, to steady his uncertain voice. “You probably won’t believe this, but I… I knew it the first time I looked into those swimming pool eyes of his that seemed to go on forever.”

“Really?” Lance asked, a slight smile enlivening his sad features. “It was love at first sight?”

Jack nodded, his breath coming more easily now, the memories somehow not so painful as he would have thought. He cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the far wall of the alley where someone had scrawled “love hurts.”
Yeah, it sure as hell does
, he told himself with another heavy sigh.

“I was already, you know,
working
, for a couple a months when Mark showed up on the boulevard one night. He was so small, so skinny, so blond, so lost, and so cute that I just knew I had to help him. So I walked up and introduced myself and asked how old he was.” Jack paused, the memories flooding him with simultaneous waves of delirious joy and unabashed anguish.

Lance leaned in, pressing his body even more closely against Jack’s, eagerly hanging on every word.

Jack pulled himself together, glancing shyly over at Lance. “Sorry, it’s just, you know, hard.”

Lance reached out and took his hand. Surprised, Jack flicked his eyes down to his hand, feeling the warmth of Lance’s smooth young fingers intertwined within his own, and squeezed back gratefully.

“He was so scared and so shy, and I was a pretty big kid, even at fifteen.” Jack had to catch his breath a second, and Lance gave his hand another little squeeze. “I guess I kinda scared him, you know, Lance?”

Lance nodded, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Anyway, I told him it was okay, that I’d protect him. That’s when he looked up, and that’s when I fell right into those amazing blue eyes. He smiled that shy little smile of his, said his name was Mark. I guess he told his story. I hardly remember. Everything blurred except those deep blue eyes that seemed to carry me straight to heaven. I felt like I’d never felt for any other boy, even the first boy I ever kissed. I knew at that moment I loved Mark more than anyone on this earth.”

He paused. “And I still do, even though he’s gone.” He choked back a wrenching sob.

Lance squeezed the hand more tightly, enjoying the closeness it brought him to Jack.

Silence filled the air with its invisible weight and just held them both in place a moment.

When Jack said nothing more, Lance gave his hand another little squeeze, then released it and slumped back against the wall. “Thanks, Jacky, for telling me.”

There was an unexpected moment of unalterable peace between them.

Then Jack sighed wearily. “Everyone misses you, Lance, and Arthur’s out of his mind with worry.”

Lance looked up. “He is?”

“Hell, yeah,” Jack confirmed, knowing he had to convince his friend, somehow, of his own worth. “We got a big operation goin’ down tonight, and Arthur can’t hardly concentrate cuz he misses you so much.”

“Is he mad at me?” Lance asked hesitantly. “Does he blame me?”

“Hell, no!” Jack insisted as forcefully as he could. “He loves you, man, I told you that, and he wants you back more’n anything.”

“Did he like, actually
say
that, you know, that he loves me?” His shimmering eyes expanded with hope.

“No,” Jack admitted, seeing that hope vanish like the setting sun. “But he does.” He paused. “Reyna said she loves you too.”

“Reyna?” Lance looked surprised.

Jack blushed. “She kissed me on the lips and told me to pass it on to you.”

Lance chuckled at that. “Sounds like Reyna.” Then he blanched and eyed Jack fearfully, as though he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “What did you tell her?”

Jack did his best to look mortified. “What kind of cheap ho do you think I am?”

At that, Lance actually laughed. Reyna
had
only been joking. Or had she?

“Don’t answer that!” Jack added quickly, with a slight smile.

And then Lance lost it. He couldn’t help himself. He busted up, and the two of them laughed and laughed for several moments, gradually shedding bits and pieces of loss and pain from around their wounded hearts like ice crystals from a windblown tree branch.

When their guilty laughter slowly eased to a stop, they sat a moment in silence. Then Jack put a strong, comforting arm around Lance’s shoulder, causing him to shiver.

“Come back, Lance. Arthur needs you. We all need you.
I
need you.”

Lance looked down a moment in shame, and then into Jack’s urgent eyes. “You don’t blame me either?”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. “For what?”

“For not thinking of that phone thing!” Lance insisted, the loss and guilt flooding back in, threatening to drown him.

“I didn’t think of it either, man,” Jack reminded him, almost choking on his own culpability. “Don’t you think I feel like shit too? My God, Lance, a few months ago we were both fucked-up kids who nobody ever expected would do anything good, and now we’re supposed to save the world?”

Lance dropped his gaze sadly. “Maybe not the world, but what about our friends?”

Jack sighed heavily. “If anyone should’ve saved Mark, it was me. He never even would’ve been out here if I’d just––”

“Don’t,” Lance admonished, grabbing Jack’s trembling hand again, locking his desolate green eyes on the other boy’s face. “Don’t go there! Please.”

Jack caught his breath, feeling a lump in his throat, and squeezed Lance’s hand desperately. “You know, Lance, what I
finally
figured out?”

Lance eyed him expectantly.

“It’s the things we
don’t
say to each other that make the biggest difference,” Jack whispered. “The things we don’t say.” He lowered his head in shame.

Lance nodded, comprehension splashing over him like a tsunami. That
was
true! Of course it was. He suddenly recalled all the things
he
hadn’t said, all the failures eating away at
his
heart, and nearly gagged with self-hatred.

“Jack, what happened, man?” he asked imploringly, his body feeling cold and numb, his eyes wide with need. “It seemed so good for a while, like we was gonna finally make something good outta ourselves, ya know? How did we fuck it all up?”

Jack sighed and tugged back the tears. “Cuz we’re kids, Lance,” he whispered forlornly. “We’re just kids, and kids fuck up.”

Lance hesitated, Jack’s words settling heavily around his heart, and then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.” He paused. “But we lost Mark, man. He was so good, and the first
real
friend I ever had.”

Jack nodded and blinked back his tears. “Aren’t I the second?”

Now Lance nodded.

Jack squeezed the smaller boy close. “
I’m
still here, Lance. And I need you, man, more than ever. We’re the only ones who
really
loved Mark, you know?”

Lance knew and understood. They’d lost Mark, for which he’d never completely forgive himself, but they still had each other. And Jack
was
right—the things
not
said were so much more important! He had to face Arthur, had to tell him, had to
not
let those words go unspoken for another second.