Metanoia - 3. Never Fade Away

I’ve barely made it home the next day, after a quick stop to do a gig for Rogue, when Kerry calls. ‘Hey, Ker.’

‘V. Hey. You doin’ okay?’

‘I’m great. How ’bout you?’

‘Fuckin’ fantastic. So, listen, I was thinking . . . wanna go out tonight? Do something? I dunno, get a drink or a meal or something like that?’

I find myself grinning. ‘You askin’ me out on a date, Kerry?’

‘Yeah. Guess I am.’

‘Well, I’d love to. Where?’

‘Hadn’t actually thought that far. Could go to Dark Matter . . . or there’s this high end restaurant which you and I would both hate, so no, not that . . . And I’m outta ideas. Can you tell it’s been a while since I asked someone on a date?’

‘I got an idea.’

‘Yeah? Go for it.’

‘Place in Heywood, where I grew up. Chill joint, good booze, plus a couple people I’d like to introduce you to.’

‘Meeting your friends?’

‘Why not? I’ve met yours.’

‘Not sure I’d call ’em friends. But sure, sounds preem.’

‘Okay, I’ll text you the address.’

I’m wearing a goofy smile by the time I hang up. I can’t help it. I haven’t had genuine feelings for anyone in a long time, and this feels like more than just a crush. Which is crazy. I barely know Kerry. Except I do know him, in large part thanks to Johnny. I know him a lot better than he knows me.

‘He’ll get to know you.’ Johnny appears on the couch, where the cat is licking its own ass. ‘You’re not that complicated.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ I say sarcastically. ‘What if . . . what if he doesn’t want to get to know me, though?’

‘If all he wanted was to fuck you, he wouldn’t ask you out on a date, V.’

‘I . . . I guess not.’

I wait for Kerry outside El Coyote Cojo. He’s a couple minutes late, and he apologises.

‘Don’t worry, I hadn’t been waitin’ long.’ I kiss his cheek on a whim. He doesn’t seem to mind, and we walk inside the bar.

‘Hey, V!’ Pepe calls, waving from the bar. ‘Good to see you, hermano!’ As we approach, he says, ‘I owe you a drink for helping me out. What can I get you?’

‘The usual,’ I tell him.

‘And for you?’ he says, looking at Kerry.

‘I’ll have what he’s having.’

‘Two Compa de Heywood coming right up!’ While Pepe mixes our drinks, he eyes Kerry with some suspicion. ‘This your new input or something?’

I turn to Kerry. ‘I dunno, Ker. Are you?’

Kerry shrugs one shoulder, making a good show of looking nonchalant, but he smiles when he says, ‘I’m okay with that label.’

I can’t help the flush in my cheek and warmth in my chest. ‘Then, yes. Pepe, this is Kerry.’ I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Pepe doesn't recognise him; rockerboy music isn't really his jam. I glance around the bar. ‘Hey, is Mama Welles around?’

‘Should be. Prolly stepped out for a minute. She’ll be back.’ Pepe places our drinks on the counter.

Lifting my glass, I turn to Kerry. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’ He clinks his glass against mine and takes a sip. ‘Ooh, this is nice.’ He takes another. ‘Spicy.’

‘That’s the jalapeño,’ says Pepe helpfully.

‘Pepe, how’s Cynthia doin’?’ I ask.

‘Oh, she’s good. Things are good, V. She, uh . . . we’re having another baby.’ He grins.

Pretending I don’t already know this, I smile. ‘That’s great. Congratulations!’

Pepe steps away to serve another customer. ‘Nice guy,’ says Kerry. ‘Known him long?’

‘Ages. Long as he’s been bartendin’ here. He’s good people. A real choom.’

‘You said you grew up here.’

‘Yep. Well, not this bar, but this part of Heywood, yeah. Had a lotta very late, very drunk nights here, though.’

‘V!’ I turn to see Mama Welles approaching. ‘I thought that was you! Good to see you, mi niño.’ She pats my cheek. ‘And who’s this?’

Grinning, I turn to Kerry. ‘Kerry Eurodyne, meet Guadalupe Welles, proprietress of this fine establishment.’

Kerry shakes her hand, smiling. ‘Pleased to meet you, Ms. Welles.’

‘And you, Mr. Eurodyne.’ She studies his face for a few moments. ‘Almost everyone calls me Mama Welles around here, but you, I think, may call me Lupe.’

‘I’m old enough, huh?’ says Kerry without missing a beat, and she laughs. ‘Well, in that case, you should call me Kerry. Nice place you got here. Good atmosphere.’

‘I like this man, V,’ says Mama Welles. ‘You may keep him. Ustedes tendrían lindos hijos.’ Then she walks away.

I laugh and Kerry raises an eyebrow at me. ‘What she say?’

‘She, ah . . . she said you and I’d have beautiful kids together.’

Instead of laughing, Kerry studies my face, looking thoughtful. ‘I think we just might. But I’m afraid that ship’s sailed for me. Plus, I make for a shitty dad.’

I’m not sure how to respond to that, so instead I just shake my head and take a sip of my drink.

‘You speak Spanish?’ Kerry asks.

‘Little bit. Hard not to, you grow up in this neighbourhood. You pick it up.’

‘You’re not Latino?’

I shrug. ‘Maybe. Prolly, somewhere along the line. I’m a mutt.’ I grin. ‘Little bit of everything in me.’

Kerry leans over and whispers, ‘Want some Filipino in you too?’

I laugh. ‘You know it.’

‘Ugh, kill me!’ Johnny says, materialising behind the bar. ‘Or, failing that, keep drinking. I’m too sober to witness this shit.’ I ignore him but take another sip of my drink all the same.

‘What was it like?’ Kerry asks after a moment. ‘Growing up in Heywood?’

‘Well, it wasn’t easy, exactly. Lotta poverty around here, lotta violent crime and gang activity . . . But I never thought of that, growin’ up. I felt safe knowin’ the whole neighbourhood had my back. Everyone’s family, even the folks you barely know, and you can call on family when the shit hits the fan.’

Kerry nods. ‘I like that. Did you stay here long, after you grew up?’

‘Yeah, until about three years ago. After my dad died. Complications from heart surgery. We couldn’t afford the best and safest options. How I got into the merc biz, actually. Needed to come up with the scratch fast, so I started runnin’ gigs for Padre. Local fixer. Before that, I made an honest livin’, believe it or not. Only kid on my block who didn’t join up with the Valentinos, felt like. Still couldn’t get together enough eddies for the best treatment, though, even as a merc.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Kerry places a hand on my arm and squeezes. ‘What about your mom?’

‘Gang wars. Innocent bystander. She got caught in the crossfire in a shootout between the Valentinos and 6^th Street when I was twelve.’ I shake my head. ‘Anyway, after Dad died, I packed up and left NC for a couple of years. Wound up in Atlanta.’

‘Of all places. What, to find yourself?’

‘I guess. It sucked. Turns out I was the same miserable fucker in Atlanta as I had been in Night City. So in the end, I came back here, to Heywood. I’d barely been back two days when I met Jackie.’

‘Who’s Jackie?’

‘Mama Welles’ son. My age. We’d both been hired to steal the same car and got caught. Instant chooms after that, started runnin’ jobs together.’

‘Where is he now?’

I look over my shoulder. ‘Well, you can’t see it real well from here, but see that shrine over there, next to the stairs?’

Kerry makes a face. ‘I’m sorry. How’d he die?’

‘Got shot when we hit Konpeki Plaza. Y’know, when I got the . . .’ I tap the base of my skull. ‘Bled out in the back of a Delamain cab. Best friend I ever had.’

‘Just friends?’

I snort. ‘Oh yeah. Jackie was straight as an arrow. And not really my type.’

Kerry drains his glass and motions to Pepe for another. ‘Well, V, gotta say . . . I’m glad you didn’t stay in Atlanta.’

We stay until about eleven, drinking and chatting. I feel pleasantly warm and tipsy when we step out into the cool California night. It’s mostly quiet. Distant gunshots, but not close enough to be a concern. Then there’s a hand on my hip and another on my cheek, and I’m being pushed up against the brick wall. Kerry kisses me hard and I kiss him back, slipping my arms around his waist and letting a hand come to rest on the curve of his ass.

‘Been waiting to do this all night,’ Kerry murmurs against my lips. ‘Need you, V.’

‘Your place?’ I ask breathlessly.

‘If you want. Wouldn’t mind seein’ yours, though. And it’s closer.’

‘My, uh . . . my whole place could fit into your living room. Twice.’

‘So? Think I always lived in a mansion?’

I chuckle. ‘Fair point.’ I gently push him away. ‘You good to drive? I came by metro.’

He smiles. ‘Rockerboy liver. I can handle my alcohol.’

His car is parked in a secure garage not far from here. We drive in comfortable silence. My heart’s pounding again, though. We take the elevator up from the parking garage, kissing on the way up. When we finally get inside my apartment, I find myself pressed up against the wall again, Kerry’s lips at my throat. I can feel his hard-on against my thigh. I’m wearing my packer, which is also getting hard, and I’m sure he can feel it. He gets my jacket off and it falls to the floor. Then he slides his cool hands up under my shirt.

‘You run hot, don’t you?’ he whispers. ‘Your skin is always so warm.’

‘Yeah, I’ve . . . been accused of that before,’ I tell him, and gasp as his fingers brush my nipple. He bites my earlobe at the same time and I close my eyes, my head falling back against the wall. ‘Fuck, Ker . . .’

He gets to his knees, unbuckling my belt and pulling down my pants. Without ceremony, he hungrily swallows my dick. ‘Ah, fuck!’ I moan, sliding my fingers into his hair and tightening my fist. ‘God, feels so good . . .’ And it does. Kerry’s mouth is so hot, his tongue slippery. I realise now how much I’ve wanted this all night. I know I won’t last long, but that’s okay. As previously established, I can go all night, though it is slightly embarrassing how easily Kerry can make me come. Then he slides his hand up my thigh, between my legs, between my cheeks where his finger lazily circles my asshole, and I come with a grunt, accidentally banging my head against the wall.

He stops, takes his mouth off me and looks up into my face. Licking his lips, he says, ‘Okay if I top tonight?’ I nod, unable to articulate an answer. ‘You wanna take this off or should I . . . ?’ He presses his finger against my hole and I gasp.

‘Yeah, that,’ I manage. ‘Definitely that. Ah! It . . . it’s been a while, though. Lemme just . . . go clean up?’

‘Sure.’ Kerry smiles and gets to his feet. He kisses my lips. ‘I’ll wait here.’

‘Okay. Um, help yourself to a drink. Should be a bottle of whiskey over by the terminal.’ I disappear into the bathroom, closing the door. About ten minutes later, I emerge wrapped in a towel, carrying a bottle of lube. I find Kerry lying back on my bed, stark naked with his cock in his hand, and I almost whimper.

‘C’mere,’ he says. I do, dropping my towel to the floor. I place the lube on the floor by the bed and lie down next to Kerry, kissing his lips. My hand joins his on his cock and he hisses as I pull back his foreskin and let my thumb slide over the slick head. ‘Easy,’ he breathes.

I kiss Kerry’s throat. ‘Think I wanna taste you ’fore you fuck me.’

He swallows and I feel his Adam's apple move under my lips. ‘That . . . that’s fine by me.’

I go down on him, tasting him, breathing him in. I love this. Love the sounds he makes, and I open my throat, taking him as deep as I can without gagging.

‘Fuck, V!’ he moans. ‘Can’t keep this up . . . if I’m gonna be able to fuck you.’

I pull off him and look up at his face with a mischievous smile. ‘Sorry.’ I don’t feel the least bit sorry.

‘Yeah, yeah. On your front, babe.’ He slaps my ass playfully. I’m pretty sure the ‘babe’ part was accidental. It’s the first time he’s called me a pet name, other than ‘kid’ (which should feel weird, incidentally, especially given the age difference, but somehow doesn’t) and that hardly counts.

‘Just . . . take it slow, okay?’ I say, and he acknowledges the request with an affirmative hum.

He leans over me, kisses the back of my neck, then bites it. Meanwhile, his left hand (where his nails are trimmed short) slides down my back, into the crack of my ass until he finds my hole. I already lubed up a little, and he slides his finger inside me, moving it in and out for a bit.

A prostate is not something that can be medically or cybernetically replicated in a body that’s not supposed to have one. Even if I’d had bottom surgery, I couldn’t have had one of those. But that doesn’t mean anal sex doesn’t feel good. My dick twitches under me, perking up again at the sensation. Picking up the lube, Kerry pours some more down my crack and slowly adds another finger. I groan at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt much. I try to relax and let it happen, let him stretch me open so I can accomodate him.

‘Fuck, look at this gorgeous ass,’ he murmurs. ‘May need to do this again.’

I moan. ‘Fine . . . fine by me . . . Ah, shit, Ker . . .’

‘That’s it. You doin’ okay?’

I nod into the pillow. ‘Yeah. I’m good. Just . . . ah . . .’ I take a deep breath. ‘More!’

‘More?’ His voice is soft, teasing. I nod again. ‘Greedy!’ But still he obliges, adding a third finger. ‘Like this?’

‘Yeah . . .’ My voice is high, breathy.

‘Feel good?’

‘Mmh . . . yeah. Fuck . . .’ My hips buck, grinding into the sheets and then pushing back on his fingers.

‘Fuck, you’re hot, V.’ He strokes my back with his other hand, rubbing my shoulders, sliding it down to my waist, my ass, grabbing and squeezing one of the cheeks. I gasp as he gives it a gentle slap. ‘Hm. You like that?’

I nod. ‘Yeah,’ I say again. He smacks it a little harder and I moan, ‘More!’ I feel like my vocabulary’s been reduced to ‘fuck’, ‘yeah’, and ‘more’. But then he pulls his fingers out and I utter a plaintive, ‘No!’ Okay, so there’s another word I know.

‘Well, I can’t very well fuck you if my fingers are up your ass, can I?’ he says. He leans down, brings his lips close to my ear. ‘And I need to fuck you now, V.’ Smacking my ass one more time, he gets behind me. I raise my hips a little higher, face still pressed into the pillow. This position’s always turned me on; ass in the air and the weight of my partner pressing down on me. I feel the blunt head of Kerry’s cock against my opening. Feel the burn as he pushes past my sphincter, stretched though I am. ‘Relax,’ he coaxes. ‘That’s it, babe. Just relax. Let me in.’ He groans. ‘Fuck, you feel good, V . . . You okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I manage. ‘Fuck . . .’ I breathe through my nose, relaxing my body as best I can, and he slides in and bottoms out. ‘Ah, god!’

‘Mmm, good . . .’ He moves his hips slowly, gently. He’s got one hand on my ass, the other sliding up and down my back and coming to rest on the nape of my neck. Not pressing or squeezing, just holding. I’m not sure what to do with my hands. My fists are clenched on either side of my head as I take deep breaths. The more I open, the better it feels and the faster he moves. ‘God, V . . . feels amazing. Definitely need to do this again.’

‘Yes, please,’ I say, and he laughs.

‘One assfucking at a time, kid.’ That makes me laugh too, and he swears loudly. ‘Christ, don’t laugh, you’ll get too tight!’

‘Sorry.’ I grin into the pillow. ‘Just a . . . taste of how tight I’ll get when you make me come.’

‘Brat,’ he says affectionately. Then he stretches out on top of me, grabs hold of my wrists and kisses the back of my neck. I shiver at the feeling; the safe weight of him on top of me, lean though he is.

‘Ker?’

‘Mhm?’

I turn my head to the side, looking at him through the corner of my eye. His face is covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes closed, but now he opens them and meets my gaze. ‘Kiss me?’

He captures my lips and starts to move again. What follows is a blur of sensation and emotion. His hands gripping my wrists. His cock in my ass. Mine caught between my stomach and the bed, the friction driving me wild. Kerry’s lips on mine, on my back and my shoulders, on my temple and jaw. His tongue licking the shell of my ear and my earlobe. His teeth scraping my neck as he fucks me. This feeling of fullness . . . I’d forgotten what it’s like. Or maybe I’ve just never felt it quite like this before.

‘Ah, fuck, Ker . . . I’m gonna come soon!’

‘Yeah?’

‘Mhm . . .’

‘Me too.’ He licks a trail from the nape of my neck to my ear. ‘Gonna come inside you, V,’ he whispers. He kisses the soft skin behind my ear. ‘Gonna fill you.’ Then he shifts his weight, grabs my hips and raises them a little so he can get his hand on my cock, and starts jerking me.

‘Shit, Kerry, I’m—’ And I can’t even finish, because at that moment my orgasm hits me hard and I cry out, grasping at the sheets. My hips buck and I shake, shiver. My body tightens around him and he comes too, but his hand is still on me and I’m still moving and my moment just keeps going. I practically expel his cock from my ass with how tight it gets, before I finally whimper, ‘Stop! Too . . . too much . . .’ and he takes his hand away.

Kerry kisses my shoulder, rolls off me onto his back, and laughs. ‘Jesus, V. That was . . . fuck me, that was intense.’

Once I have enough breath back, I laugh too. My voice is a little hoarse. ‘Yeah. Really was.’ I stay on my stomach, face turned toward him, and Kerry turns over onto his side. He raises his hand and strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers, running his thumb over my bottom lip, and then kisses me gently. I roll onto my side and caress his jaw, scraping blunt fingernails through his beard. His hand goes to my shoulders and his fingers trace patterns over my tattoos, but his eyes are fixed on mine, a smile on his face.

Then he frowns. ‘Why do you like me, kid?’

I smirk, sliding my fingers into his hair. ‘What makes you think I like you, old man?’ I quip, then kiss him on the lips.

When I pull back again, he laughs and says, ‘Well, that, for one.’

I purse my lips. ‘Okay, yeah. Granted, that’s some pretty compelling evidence right there.’ I shrug one shoulder. ‘I dunno, why do you like me?’

‘Nuh-uh, I asked first,’ he says firmly.

‘I guess . . .’ I consider my words for a moment. ‘I mean, aside from the obvious, like how hot you are and your bein’ a global superstar and how much I love your voice—’

He scoffs. ‘My voice? Really?’

‘Fuck yes, your voice. Anyway, aside from all of that . . . I like how there’s more to you than meets the eye. I mean, when we first met, once I stopped feelin’ starstruck, you were kinda obnoxious, actually. Just seemed like another spoiled, narcissistic rockerboy. But then, I already knew that wasn’t really true.’

‘’Cause of Johnny.’

‘Yeah. But he knew you over fifty years ago, so it didn’t have that much of an impact on my perception. Not at first, anyway. But . . . then you opened up to me. Got a glimpse after the gig, then when we had coffee . . . and I started gettin’ to the why of it. And then at Dark Matter, you were . . . vulnerable. Naked. Y’know, figuratively. Made me . . . wanna know you more.’

I can’t quite interpret the look on his face. There’s a hint of surprise, but it’s deeper than that. He clears his throat. ‘I, uh . . . that may be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.’

‘Your turn,’ I tell him. ‘Why do you like me?’

‘Why?’ He stares at me in incredulity, both eyebrows raised. ‘V, you saved me. I was in a really dark place when you came along.’

‘Yeah, but that was Johnny.’

‘Sure, the gig, all that . . . but that could never have happened without you, and everything that came after, that was all you. The things you said to me, Johnny would never have said that. You . . . lifted me up and grounded me at the same time.’ He chews his lip for a moment, then sighs. ‘I told Johnny . . . I said the whole suicide attempt was just a publicity stunt. It . . . it wasn’t.’ He pauses, shakes his head. ‘I dunno if it was one hundred percent serious either, but . . . I was definitely toying with the idea.’

‘Oh, Kerry,’ I say, at the same time as I hear Johnny’s voice in my head saying the exact same thing. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. You pulled me out of that pit. Johnny too, to give credit where credit’s due, but . . . mostly you. That’s . . . that’s why I gave you my gun. ’Cause that’s how I was gonna, y’know . . .’

‘Right. Yeah.’

‘Label spun it. Mental health awareness sells, apparently.’

I lean in again, kiss his lips. ‘Thanks for tellin’ me.’

‘Only way I can explain what you did for me, V. You’ve saved my life. You helped me believe in myself in a way I haven’t since . . . well, maybe ever. You were what I needed when I needed it. So . . . thank you.’

‘I was?’ I say, before I can stop myself. ‘Past tense?’

He smiles. ‘No, V. You’re still what I need. What I want.’ And he kisses me again.

I get up to go to the bathroom and clean up, removing the packer and sticking it back in its box. When I get back to bed, it’s getting chilly, so we get under the covers and make out like teenagers for a while. Then Kerry says, ‘You really like my voice?’

I laugh. ‘You’re an international rockstar, Ker, is that so hard to believe? Millions love your voice.’

‘Don’t care about the millions,’ he says. ‘Just the one.’

‘I’ve always loved your voice,’ I tell him. ‘Especially loved it the way it was back in the Samurai days. Raw, unfettered.’ I run my finger along the golden edge of his throat implant. ‘Not sure what you need these for.’

Kerry takes my hand and kisses my palm. ‘Well, you said it. Raw and unfettered. I messed up my vocal chords pretty badly ’cause I had no fuckin’ clue what I was doing.’ He frowns. ‘Still don’t get it. Everyone liked Johnny’s singing better.’

‘Not true,’ I tell him. ‘You were both good, in different ways. His clean vocals had a lotta depth, this dark, round cadence. Yours had . . . somethin’ else. Less tangible. This almost ethereal quality, sometimes. Hard to put into words, but there was so much feeling.’

‘I . . .’ He blinks. ‘Thank you.’

I snuggle up against him, my head on his chest, and he puts both arms around me. ‘Sing to me, Kerry,’ I say after several long moments.

‘Huh?’

‘C’mon, we’ve been talkin’ about your voice, now I wanna hear it. Sing somethin’.’

‘What should I sing?’

I shrug. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘Hmm . . .’ Kerry seems to consider for a long time. Then, just as I’m about to let him off the hook, he sings, very softly, ‘I saw in you what life was missing. You lit a flame that consumed my hate. I’m not one for reminiscing, but I’d trade it all for your sweet embrace . . .’

‘Hey, that’s my tune,’ says Johnny, appearing just within my field of vision. The words signal annoyance, but he doesn’t sound annoyed.

Kerry goes on, skipping the normally screamed bits. ‘There’s a canvas with two faces of fallen angels who loved and lost. It was a passion for the ages, and in the end guess we paid the cost.’ I’m surprised when he starts on the chorus and I hear a second voice, singing the lower harmony. It’s Johnny. ‘A thing of beauty, I know, will never fade away. What you did to me, I know, said what you had to say. But a thing of beauty . . .’

They both fall silent. ‘See?’ I murmur. ‘Beautiful.’

‘Johnny wrote that after Alt died,’ says Kerry.

‘I know.’

‘The band wasn’t even together then,’ he continues, ‘but when he’d finished it, he called me. And he said . . . said he couldn’t record it without me. He put it on a solo album, but he wanted me to sing lead.’

‘Maybe it was too painful,’ I say, glancing at Johnny who looks away, frowning. A yawn takes me before I can say anything else.

‘Sleepy?’ Kerry asks, kissing my temple.

‘Mhm . . . sing me to sleep, Eurodyne.’

He laughs softly, shaking his head, but as I close my eyes, he continues the song, and when it gets to the chorus, Johnny joins in again. I listen to them both until sleep takes me.