The Grand Ballast (15 page)

“
Yes,” Kilroy said. “Of
course you can.”

***

Dee and her agent had been
waiting in the next town, Moat & Rankle, for two days by the
time the train arrived. She was standing placidly in the rail yard,
wearing a dark blue dress with leaf-patterned lace sleeves, when
Bode and the others disembarked. Roulette made kissy noises at her,
and she adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and glided forward when she
saw Kilroy.

“
Where have you been?” she
asked.

Kilroy brushed past her and
went to unlock the equipment car. “I told you, love. I’d be taking
two days off. I told you and uh, uh—” He snapped his fingers in the
direction of the agent.

“
Thom.”

“—
Thom not to arrive until
this evening.” He pulled the car door open.

Bode watched as a group of
hired hands entered the equipment car. They reemerged seconds
later, hauling the big top tent and the bucket of pegs, and headed
toward the performance area. If they’d been surprised to see the
Boy of the Water in the car, they gave no indication.

“
He didn’t tell me,” Dee
said.

Kilroy turned to her. Took
her hands. “Listen. I can’t really be harried right now. I don’t
have the patience. How would you feel about doing four shows here
instead of two?”

“
Four
shows?” Dee’s agent jerked to life several feet away and strode
toward Kilroy. “We never negotiated
four
shows in Moat &
Rankle.”

“
We’re negotiating it now,
you fucking soap bubble.”

Sibyata had stopped to
listen to the conversation. “Four shows?” she hollered. “You’d
better mean one a day, K. My junk can’t handle two.”

“
Yes,” Kilroy snapped,
letting go of Dee and whirling to Sibyata. “One a fucking day. I
need a home base for a few days while I sort something
out.”

Bode wondered if what
needed to be sorted out was the Boy of the Water.

“
I’ll have to check with my
agent,” Dee said primly.

“
Aw aw awww-uh-uh.” Sibyata
rolled her eyes. “She has to check with her agent if she so much as
wants to grow a new cunt hair.” She was wearing a black leotard
with cutouts in the sides, and Bode could see the pink hole under
her ribs.

Dee glanced at her. “You’re
crude.”

Sibyata approached Dee.
“Let me ask you something, angel-y thing.” She jerked her thumb at
Kilroy. “Do you get your paychecks? ’Cause the rest of us ain’t
seen a dime in weeks.”

Kilroy swung the ring stick
and caught Sibyata hard across her bony shoulders. “You don’t know
what you’re saying, you burnt-out whore.”

Sibyata glared at him, her
wide eyes bulging. “Whassamatter, Kil? You ain’t makin’ enough to
pay us?”

“
Shut your mouth if you
know what’s good for you.” He started to walk away.

“
Kil,” she said. “Gimme my
money.”

Kilroy slowly turned back to her. The others
moved to the sidelines. Kilroy strode across the grass and stopped
in front of her, but she didn’t flinch. He pulled the pearl handled
pistol from his pocket and pushed the barrel into the crater in her
side. “I wouldn’t ask again unless you want me to make this hole
ten times deeper.”

She stared at Kilroy evenly and didn’t say a
word. But Bode could see her chest rising and falling more rapidly
with each second the barrel remained against her skin.

Kilroy slowly withdrew the gun and used it
to gesture at the rest of the group. “Anyone else? Complaints?
Concerns?”

Silence. Kilroy stalked off toward the
workers who were putting up the tent.

“
You okay?” Roulette asked
Sibyata, very quietly.

“
I think we need to teach
Kilroy a lesson, that’s what I think.” She walked a few feet in the
direction Kilroy had gone. Put her arms up like a sorceress and
threw her head back. “He’s a liar!” she yelled to the sky. “He said
he had an escape from boredom. He said he had wonders in
store.”

“
Be quiet,” Roulette
snapped. “You dumb bitch, be quiet. He’ll hear you.”

“
Where are my wonders?”
Sibyata shouted. “Kilroy Ballast, where are my wonders?”

OUT OF A SWAMP

Then.

Bode came home late one night and found
Kilroy in the living room, wearing his reading glasses and
scribbling in a notebook. Bode waited for Kilroy to look up, and
when he didn’t, Bode shrugged out of his jacket and went to
him.

“
Sorry I’m late. This show
is kicking my ass.” He did a couple of karate-esque moves,
laughing. “But I’m not gonna let it break me.” He planted a quick,
smacking kiss on the top of Kilroy’s head then went to hang his
jacket up in the entryway.

“
Why do you think that is?”
Kilroy asked.

“
What?” Bode popped back
into the living room. He’d heard Kilroy but wasn’t sure he
understood the question.

“
Why is that?” Kilroy
tapped his pen against the notebook. “That you won’t let it break
you?”

“
Uhhh. It was a joke. Not a
joke. I just meant I’ll get where I need to be
eventually.”

“
I know.” Kilroy wasn’t
even looking at Bode. He focused on the notebook, his lips barely
moving. “I only ask because you do seem like the sort of person who
ends up right where he needs to be.”

Bode pounced on the sofa on
all fours and leaned in to give Kilroy a deeper kiss. “You
are
such
a
weirdo.” He drew back slightly and smiled. “You read way too much
into everything I say.”

“
Maybe so.” Kilroy leaned
forward to set the notebook on the glass coffee table.

Bode’s shirt had ridden up a little. Kilroy
reached under the drooping fabric and rubbed Bode’s stomach. Bode
sighed, letting his eyes close.

“
You like that?” Kilroy
asked.

Bode opened his eyes and stared at Kilroy
hazily. “Mmm-hmm.”

Kilroy moved his hand up, stroking Bode’s
chest. Bode arched his back. Kilroy circled Bode’s nipple with his
nails, and Bode swallowed, his cock stirring. Kilroy moved his hand
slowly up Bode’s side and scratched between his shoulders. Bode
gave a deeper sigh and swayed, trying to push into Kilroy’s hand.
His eyes closed again, and his head drooped.

“
Come here,” Kilroy
whispered.

Bode crawled blindly into Kilroy’s lap. Two
days of almost constant rehearsal that had left him with a light
stubble that rasped as Kilroy stroked the side of his neck and his
cheek. Bode tipped his head back, exposing his throat to
Kilroy.

Kilroy stopped touching him. Bode waited,
feeling an odd tension in the room.

“
Am I nothing but a rotten
queer?” Kilroy asked softly.

Bode opened his eyes,
startled. “Of course not. What are you
talking
about?”

Kilroy’s voice trembled.
“I’m not as handsome as I used to be.”

“
Kilroy! You’re very
handsome.”

“
Do you truly love me,
Bode? Or do you think I’m repellant?”

Bode had seen hints of
Kilroy’s insecurities, but nothing like this. Kilroy was trembling
like a child, his face pale and his eyes blank. Bode elbowed him.
“Hush up. I love you.”

“
I know
I’m a dreamer. I know I’m a lot of talk. But I
get things done
. I do
know how to stir the pot.”

“
The world should be very
afraid of you. You’re the most incredible person I know.” Bode
paused, shifting. “Even if nobody knows where you came
from.”

Kilroy shook his head and
looked away.

“
Hey.” Bode tugged his
sleeve. “What’s going on?”

A long, hushed, shaky
breath. “I’m not sure. I suppose I just panic
sometimes.”

Bode understood that. He
had the same problem. He panicked about wanting to be a better
dancer. Wanting to get at the heart and truth of life and feeling
that he never would. He could be childishly self-absorbed, and what
he wanted more than anything was Kilroy’s arms around him, so they
could waltz through that foolish terror. He wanted to end the dance
pressed to Kilroy’s chest, breathing in time to a shared
heartbeat.

He’d always needed to be
extraordinary, brilliant. But careful too, a darling, a good man.
And he needed Kilroy to be his wildness. To spur him into unsafe
places, to rip at his caution, tear it from him like a flimsy
garment and expose what was bloody and raw underneath. What he felt
when he was fucking Kilroy? He wanted to feel that onstage. And
then he needed to be able to lie down with Kilroy and feel an end
to that storm. Feel
safe
.

It had never occurred to
him Kilroy might feel the same way.

Kilroy stood. “You said you don’t know where
I came from.” Kilroy leaned forward and chucked Bode under the
chin. He climbed up onto the coffee table. Stood precariously on
the wooden framework.

“
What are you doing?” Bode
asked.

Kilroy spread his arms and stepped onto the
glass. “I’m Kilroy Ballast! I crawled out of a swamp!” The coffee
table creaked under his weight—any minute now, Bode imagined the
glass would give.

“
Kilroy!” Bode laughed,
horrified and fascinated. “What’s going
on
? Get down.”

Kilroy grinned. Then lifted his foot and
brought it down hard. The glass cracked into three large pieces
that fell into the rug. The largest piece stuck up from the carpet
like the bow of a sinking ship. Kilroy managed to step back onto
the wooden frame before his leg went through the hole he’d
created.

Bode gaped. “Why did you do that?”

Kilroy hopped down onto the
floor.
“It’s just a table,
Bode.”

He’s crazy.
The thought both surprised Bode and didn’t. He’d
had it before, but never so directly. Yet so often, the world
mistook things that were raw, untamed, for things that were not
normal. Things that needed to be controlled.

It is just a table.

Kilroy slunk over to him, looking wicked and
thrilled. “We don’t need to behave.” He wrapped his arms around
Bode and then stuck his fingers under Bode’s arms.

Bode jerked away, laughing. “Hey!”

“
C’mon, Bode.” Kilroy
tickled him again. Bode doubled over, his protests turning to
gasps. He looked up at Kilroy and saw a smile so genuine it made
him giddy. He crouched, waiting to see if Kilroy would try
again.

“
Don’t,” Bode warned
between gulps of laugher. “Don’t you dare…”

Kilroy lunged, and Bode
took off running toward the stairs. Kilroy followed.

“
Kilroy!”
Bode scrambled up the
stairs, Kilroy thundering behind him. “No!” he cried, as Kilroy
caught his ankle. He collapsed on the landing, breathless with
laughter. Kilroy loomed over him, laughing too, his hair a mess. He
lifted Bode, holding him under the knees and arms. Swung him.
Bode’s stomach dropped as he glimpsed the drop from the landing
down the staircase. He clutched Kilroy in a panic.

A second later, Kilroy
whirled him back onto the landing and set him down. The whole world
seemed caught in the streak of a marble, tilting and whirling in
its prison of glass. Bode wanted, with an ache that froze him, to
give all the affection he’d felt throughout his life but had never
found an outlet for.
I’m yours, and I’ll
be anything you want.

Bode spread his arms then spread them above
his head in surrender. Kilroy continued to tickle him, ignoring his
wheezing objections. Kilroy seemed manic, his eyed too bright.
Bode’s muscles hurt, and suddenly he was genuinely concerned about
getting enough air.

“
I can’t, I can’t,” he
rasped. “I seriously can’t breathe.”

Kilroy stopped suddenly. Utter silence in
the house, except for their ragged breathing. Kilroy leaned over
him and whispered in his ear, “You don’t need to. I’ll breathe for
both of us.”

Bode felt an almost
pleasurable dread wrap his throat. This man
was
unknowable. And Bode did want
selfish, easy things: balance and tenderness and small comforts.
What if he was afraid of pain? Of looking through the fence, of
what his mind would fill in?

Kilroy kissed him, and Bode stared at the
ceiling, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

I AM THE LIGHT

The first performance in Moat
& Rankle was unremarkable, except for a clump of protestors who
stood outside the tent. In the ring, Bode managed to do as he was
told even without the Haze, and after the show, he changed
immediately, bummed a light from Dee, and went out the equipment
car to smoke his stolen cigarette.

The equipment car had a
walled-off section with a metal gate, like a livestock stall.
Kilroy had put the Boy of the Water in the stall, naked except for
thick black chains around one wrist and the opposite ankle, bolted
to the floor. There were blankets and straw bedding, and a bucket
in the corner. The Boy was sitting against the back wall, knees
drawn up and arms linked around them, shivering but refusing the
blankets.