All I Know - 1. Chapter 1

Thames scratched his exposed belly sleepily. Cracking one eye open, he peeked at the LCD of the alarm clock beside his bed.

6:36. Time to get up.

Thames kicked back the covers and yawned, stretching his arms overhead. He winced slightly as his knuckles bumped against the headboard. Relaxing, he laid back and gazed at the first tendrils of sunlight creeping across the ceiling of his room.

Thames waited until the swatch of yellow reached the base of the ceiling light. The moment the aluminum fixture of the flourescent lamp winked gold, he leapt out of the bed nimbly. He stood still for amoment as he let out another yawn and rubbed his eyes. He scratched the luxuriant crop of black hair sticking up on his head at odd angles then turned around to start on his morning exercises. Pretty soon, he lost himself to the hypnotic rhythm of his movements, sighing in pleasure as he felt his knotted muscles gradually loosen up. Finishing up, he stood to take deep breaths of the warm morning air. The blood rushing back to his muscles and the beads of sweat clinging to his forehead felt good, as always.

Sunlight was filtering through the windows, bathing Thames' naked chest with gentle heat and turning his brown eyes into pools of liquid gold. He shivered with delight and broke into his first smile of the day.

Thames hummed happily as he tucked the covers of the bed back in place. Grabbing a towel, he padded barefoot outside towards the kitchen, still in his boxers. On the way, he paused beside a door. Without knocking, he turned the knob and pushed it open. A shapeless lump was snoring loudly beneath a pile of blankets. Thames smirked mischievously then tiptoed towards the bedside. He leaned over where he supposed the head was, taking care not to make any noise as he did so.

"GOOD MORNING, LEWIS!" He bellowed as loud as he could right into the sleeping man's ear.

As expected, Lewis didn't even stir. He just muttered something sleepily and continued on snoring as loudly as before.

Thames shrugged and snorted in laughter. He adjusted the towel on his shoulder and made his way back outside. Not bothering to be quiet this time and leaving the door to Lewis' room ajar. He paused again before the entertainment center in the living room. Before long, Manu Chao was blaring spanish through the speakers. Bobbing his head unself-consciously, Thames continued on to the kitchen. Reaching the counter, he deftly settled into his morning routine of making tea and toast. Knowing Lewis would be up later, he also added some grounds into the coffee machine and turned it on. He was whistling softly as he dribbled a bit of honey into his tea. Grabbing the browned loaves as they popped free from the toaster, he made his his way to the balcony.

Thames draped the towel over one of the wrought iron chairs and sat down. He settled the cup and saucer gently on the table, placing one of the pieces of toast over the teacup and biting on the other one. The sun had already broken free of the horizon and was slowly disspelling the last traces of fog that had enshrouded the city last night. Already, cars were bumper to bumper on the overpass just a few kilometers from where Thames was. In the laundromat downstairs, he could hear the rapid fire spanish of the workers coming in for work. Somewhere on the high rise projects, invisible from his vantage point, a baby was wailing for his morning bottle. A flock of pigeons erupted in a staccato of wingbeats from the rooftop the adjacent convenience store. Thames just leaned back on the chair and smiled quietly. He closed his eyes and let the sun caress his skin. The sounds of the city waking up was all around him, but he didn't mind.

Thames loved mornings.

"Fuck it." Paris thumped his fist against the dashboard. The map spread out on the passenger seat absolutely made no sense to him. He had spent a good part of the last hour wandering around what he'd though to be Buenaventura street, only to realize that it was actually Buenasuerte not Buenaventura. Now he couldn't even find where goddamn Buenasuerte was on the map.

Paris pulled the car beside the curb. He killed the engine and twisted in his seat. He scrounged through the bags crammed into the back of the car. He swore he had another map somewhere... now if only he could find it in that mess. A searing pain shot up his side as he twisted too enthusiastically.

Paris turned back quickly and gritted his teeth against the pain. He clutched his ribs and curled against the steering wheel, biting back a moan of pain. He should've known better. He'd been driving all night and his muscles weren't exactly at their most flexible right now.

"Hey, mister." Paris heard the dull rap of someone's knuckles hitting the driver's window. "Are you alright, mister?"

Paris waved a hand in reassurance as he waited for the pain to subside. It did, quite rapidly in fact. In a few more seconds he could breath normally again without a stitch burning in his side. Feeling better, he raised his head and took a deep breath. He turned his blue eyes towards whoever it was outside.

Holy mama!

Paris immediately sat straight on his seat and adjusted his shirt. Stealing a glance at the rearview mirror, he settled into a deliberately relaxed posture and rolled down the window glass slowly. Angling his head and flashing a killer smile, he raised an inquiring eyebrow at the scantily clad young woman standing outside his window.

"Are you alright?" The chocolate skinned beauty asked again.

"Uh yeah." Paris grinned wryly. "Just stretched a muscle a bit."

"Oh, okay." She smiled, flashing ultra white teeth that made Paris' heart beat faster. "Thought you were having a heart attack or something. I'll be going then." She raised a hand and waved. "Bye."

"Wait." Paris blurted out. He hurriedly rolled the window all the way down and leaned out over the driver's window. The young woman hesitated then turned back, swinging curvy hips inside tight, tight jogging shorts.

"Yeah?"

"Um... Was wondering if you could... um... help me with something...?" Paris started.

"Uh oh!" The woman raised both hands and shook her head."If you're gonna flash me, mister, I ain't interested." She giggled then started to turn away again.

"No!" Paris laughed. He turned in his seat and grabbed the map. He waved it at her in explanation. "I'm actually lost." He admitted, grinning sheepishly.

"Oh." She raised a delicate hand over her lips. "I'm sorry, I thought..."

"Nah. Sorry, I look like a perv." Paris laughed with her. "Been driving all night."

"Okay. I owe you an apology." She walked back to the side of his car and took the map from him. "So, where you headed?"

"Umm... corner of Buenaventura and Trujillo."

"Oh?" She arched a delicious eyebrow in amusement. "Then watcha doin' in Buenasuerte?"

Paris blushed and shrugged his shoulders.

She laughed. "You're two miles off!"

"Damn." Paris scratched his blond hair. "I knew I should've bought a GPS or something."

"Aww. Here." She stopped laughing and pointed out the roads to him. Explaining as clearly as possible where he was supposed to turn off, and what buildings he could use as markers to get to where he wanted to go. All the while, Paris had to struggle not to stare at the generous cleavage just a few inches from his elbow.

"Thanks." Paris coughed uncomfortably and smiled in appreciation. As he took the map, he extended a hand out, "I'm Paris Huntley, by the way."

"Emily Donald." She took his hand in hers and shook it warmly.

Scarcely an hour in Toledo and looks like I hit a jackpot. Paris thought happily. This is looking to be a good year.

"So... Emily, would you let me repay your help with dinner sometime?" Paris grinned the lopsided grin that he knew full well always worked with girls, though he always denied it being deliberate. He waited patiently for the signal to grab the pen and paper in the glove compartment, never one to underestimate his own good looks.

Instead she burst out laughing, stamping a shapely sneakered foot on the pavement. Paris' self-assured smile faded into puzzlement as he watched her reaction. He almost expected her to start rolling on the ground in amusement.

"Hey?" Paris asked uncertainly.

"Oh!" She gasped out between laughter. "I just love... seeing you...college dudes." She sputtered. "You're here for the uni, right?" Paris nodded hesitantly. In lieu of an explanation, she lifted a hand and showed him a gold band securely around her ring finger.

"Oh." Paris felt his elation drop.

"Aww, c'mon, dude. No sad faces!" She leaned over quickly and gave Paris a quick peck on the cheeks. "That's for making my day... boy."

"Boy?!" Paris drew back in mock hurt.

"Seriously. I'm probably 15 years older than you." Emily bit back another fit of laughter. "Anyway, I gotta get going... umm... Paris, right? Nice name."

"Yeah. Anyway, thank you so much for the directions, Emily." Paris waved at her as she started jogging off again. "Appreciate it."

"No problemo! Good luck in your school, Paris!" She called back one last time before she disappeared around a corner.

Paris slumped back into his seat and let out a long sigh. "Figures." He muttered as he started the engine again. "If I knew a woman as hot as that, I'd marry her ASAP too." He finished backing down the narrow alleyway and turned towards a side road. He switched on the car radio as he started down the way Emily had pointed him towards.

College, here I come.

Thames spread the towel over the hot concrete of the balcony. He carefully lowered himself crosslegged into it. Resting his elbows on the crook of his knees, he assumed the lotus position. Closing his eyes he imagined himself sitting on the bottom of the ocean.

"Om...mane... padme... hom...." Thames droned out experimentally. In his mind, he pictured a glistening bubble of air float up into his field of view from somewhere below and make its way up until it disappeared. Just like the book said. "Om... mane... padme...."

A car horn suddenly blared from somewhere below the apartment, filtering through Thames' efforts. He ignored it and continued on with his chanting.

As if to deliberately spurn his efforts at transcendence, a woman started squawking obscenities at someone in the street below. Thames shut his eyes tighter, but the argument just escalated into screaming. Juana, the owner of the laundromat below, undoubtedly tongue-whipping her poor husband again. Thames rolled his eyes in defeat and got up. He picked up the towel and dusted it off then carried the empty cup of tea back to the kitchen. Washing it carefully, he set it back again on the cupboard.

The radio station had switched to some upbeat pop song that Thames couldn't identify. It's good, though. Thames admitted as he entered the bathroom and locked the door.

Paris drew up beside the street sign. Craning his neck out, he read the words carefully.

Buenaventura... Trujillo... Finally!

Paris looked at the building immediately beside the signpost. The building was white stucco with a shallow red roof. Rounded arches and a roofed corridor that ran around the building made it look charmingly Spanish. In fact, as far as he could see down both streets, the buildings were mediterranean styled. The wide streets, the flagstone sidewalks, the blazing patches of color from the occasional awnings... only the line of ultramodern high rise apartments beginning a few blocks into North Trujillo spoiled the illusion of Spain... or Mexico for that matter.

Paris turned his gaze back at the building. A fat woman in curlers looked like she was giving a verbal smackdown on an elderly gentleman as he calmly read the morning paper. Paris glanced couldn't see much through the frosted glass on the building front, but the sign above it said it all - "Bubble-O-Rama Laundry Services".

Must have taken the wrong turn or something. Paris thought in confusion. He parked the car into the side of the relatively quiet street and got out. He immediately went beneath the street sign and read it again. Yep. It's Buenaventura-Trujillo alright. So where the hell is the apartment? The street corner across the street held a small playground and a basketball court. Definitely, not an apartment... unless I'm supposed to sleep on a hammock beneath the jungle gym. On the remaining two corners was a convenience store, and small coffee shop. Both one storey buildings, definitely not the building he had reserved a space on. He was supposed to be on the second floor.

The laundromat had a second floor, alright. Better ask...

Paris looked behind him warily at the man and woman earlier. The guy was sipping his cofee while the lady was still at it, but there was no one else in sight on the street. Paris gulped his misgivings and approached the couple.

"Excuse me."

"You always lea - " The woman stopped in midsentence as she saw Paris approach. In seconds the angry scowl on her face disappeared, replaced by a sweet smile. "Oh, hi there. What can I do for you, hijo?"

"Uh." Paris glanced uncomfortably at the old man, but he didn't seem to take notice of his presence. "I was wondering... do you know a Thames Rivers?"

"Why, yes. What do you want of him?" The woman's face again became decidedly threatening. Paris almost took a step back as she positively snarled the last word out.

"Uh. I'm a... I'm renting a room from him?" Paris answered, fighting the urge to cringe.

The belligerent expression once again transformed into the sweet smile. "Why dintcha say so, caro?"

Damn, this woman's getting on my nerves. Paris thought.

"His apartment's right upstairs, sweetheart. The stairs are right behind this shop." She smiled. "I'm Juana Lopez, by the way. I own this laundry business and this here's MY NO GOOD HUSBAND FERNANDO!" She had stooped down to scream the last words at the old guy.

Amazingly, the man just flipped to the next page of the paper as if nothing had happened.

"Paris Huntley." As Paris offered his hand, he couldn't avoid giving the old guy a look of frank wonder.

"Beautiful name. Pleasure to meet you, Paris." Juana followed his gaze then laughed. "He's deaf, honey."

"Oh." Paris went silent for a second then laughed nervously. He still didn't get it. "Anyway, thank you very much, Mrs. Lopez."

"Call me Juana, dear."

"Thanks... erm... Juana." With a grateful smile he started walking back towards his car.

"Hey Paris!" Juana called out to him just as he was about to slide into the driver's seat. "You can take the car through the alley, plenty of room, and there's a garage there, just ask Thames for the key." Paris waved a thanks and got in. From the rearview mirror he could see Juana resume her earlier ranting at her husband. He chuckled as he gunned the engine and drove on into the space between the laundromat and the next building. There was a cul-de-sac right behind the building and he could see the locked aluminum gates that was probably the garage Juana was talking about. Immediately beside it was a flight of stairs hugging the wall of the building and leading up towards the second floor. The eaves of the red shingled roof pretty much sheltered it.

Paris cut off the engine and inhaled deeply. Meet the roommates and the landlord. He thought. Better get it over with quick, I need to crash. He sat in the car a moment longer looking at the blank wall of the opposite building. Probably a warehouse. He thought. At least, no all-night partying neighbors or something. He yawned tiredly then opened the car door and got out. Whistiling absentmindedly, he opened the backseat door and dragged out the backpack and the baseball bat.

They were the most valuable things he owned. Paris could come back for the rest later. The bat was a gift from his father in junior high, just before he was killed in a car accident. He never really did play baseball, football was the American sport of choice these days, but the bat had taken on another significance to him.

He shouldered the backpack and gripped the bat securely as he made his way up the narrow stone steps. Reaching the landing, he searched the jamb for a doorbell. Finding none, he looked for a knocker on the mahogany red-painted door. None. He tried the knob. Locked.

Paris lifted a hand and rapped softly on the door. "Hello?" He called out.

No one answered. He rapped louder. "Hello? Anybody home?"

He pressed his ears against the door and listened. Still nothing. Shrugging, he pounded the door with his fist three times.

"Coming!" A voice answered, finally.

Paris waited patiently, absently hitting the bat against the palm of his left hand.

Shuffling footsteps approached the door on the other side. A couple of clicks as bolts were drawn back and the door swung open. "Hi, sorry, I was..."

Paris only glimpsed the dark-haired young man for a second before the door slammed shut in his face.

What the fuck was that? Paris thought. Is the entire population of Toledo nuts or what? "Hello?"

Paris called out again at the closed door. He raised a hand and was about to knock when the door once again swung open.

This time, Paris found himself face to face with a really big, and really mad half-naked black man. Without a word, the guy grabbed Paris' collars and pulled him inside.