Chapter Fourteen #4
Danny pulled Christian onto the floor, packed tighter than Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
But this time, the crush of bodies didn’t feel the same.
There were no skin worms or invisible hands, and on closer inspection, these Black Mass congregants looked a lot more like friends celebrating the miracle of a weekend and a five-dollar drink special—people who might seem like loners or freaks by day but, under the lime-colored lights, came together like family.
Danny’s fingers curled around Christian’s hand as he trampolined on the soles of his boots, laughing and spinning and jumping and flailing to the DJ’s disco beat.
“Wow, you really are a terrible dancer,” Christian said, laughing. “And here I thought Madame Chernyshevsky was just being a bitch.”
“Shut up!” Danny cackled, softly punching Christian’s shoulder. “We can’t all be Angela Mercy.”
“That’s true,” Christian said, beaming.
“Well, then, maybe you should teach me!”
“Ha,” Christian snorted. “Maybe I should.”
Danny wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, further smearing Christian’s night sky creation.
“Well, first of all, you’re bouncing on the one and the three, which is just…I can’t,” Christian said.
“The what? And the what?”
“Here,” Christian said, placing his hands on Danny’s hips, halting the frantic hopping. “And you’re hitting it too hard. You tryin’ to jump to the moon, tough guy!”
“Why not?” Danny laughed.
Christian began drumming his fingers against the waistband of Danny’s black jeans, keeping time with the music’s beat.
“See, you step on the two and the four,” Christian said as Danny’s feet shuffled in time. “Yeah, that’s it, and keep it tight—aww, there you go!”
They step-touched together in unison, grins smeared across their faces, their hands tapping out the rhythm on each other’s hips and shoulders.
As they moved in closer, the strobing lights began to relax into a soft melon haze, ebbing from turquoise to aqua to peacock to lemon lime.
Upstairs in the balcony, the DJ flipped a record, transitioning to a smoother, quieter dance track.
A woman’s voice hummed through the speakers, a crystal melody.
Feels like I’m standing in a timeless dream.
Danny’s hands walked a path from Christian’s shoulders down his back to where his wings used to be. Danny traced his fingers along the triangular bone, searching for feathers but finding only skin.
He tucked his chin in the crook of Christian’s neck, breathing in the smell of cold cream and sweat and vanilla bean lotion.
A wisp of damp hair tickled Danny’s ear as his chest grazed the brass buttons of Christian’s overalls.
And Christian’s thumbs, which had long ago given up trying to tap the beat on Danny’s hips, now found themselves hooked resolutely in the belt loops of Danny’s pants.
And they pulled each other close.
And their feet stopped dancing.
And their shoulders stopped swaying.
And they held on to each other like their lives depended on it, like at any moment the dance floor might tip and they’d all go crashing into the Hudson.
Danny could feel Christian’s heart beating in sync with his own.
He could feel the heat radiating off Christian’s back.
He could feel the bass from the music thrumming in Christian’s chest, and the electricity dancing across his skin in all the places where Christian’s hands would touch.
And Danny felt himself getting closer to that place, that place where everything was supposed to click, where the needle of his compass would stop its mad spinning and finally point somewhere that made sense. Then the beat kicked in.
I love you always, forever.
“What is this song?” Danny cried.
“I don’t know,” Christian said, laughing and spinning Danny around. “I’ve never heard it before.”
“I fucking love it!” Danny shouted, throwing back his head and roaring into the mirror-ball sky.
All around them, Danny saw hands grabbing for hands and lips for lips and teeth gnawing at throats, chewing off rainbow-colored candy from elastic necklaces.
Lights flashed across faces drenched in sweat, faces contorted in joy as they mouthed lyrics they’d only just learned seconds ago.
Everyone seemed lost in the moment, floating in a cellular mass, serotonin levels spiking in unison, all shimmering, all pulsating, all bouncing to the same dropped beat.
As the song climbed to a crescendo, Christian fell into focus, the frenzied mass of people around them blurring out like shower steam on a mirror.
It was just two pairs of feet and two pairs of eyes and two pairs of hands gripping each other’s waistbands.
Two boys alone in a crowd. It felt like the most private, most secret moment they’d ever shared, surrounded by every under-twenty-five-year-old in the tristate area.
The shapeless crowd swelled around them.
Like an ocean wave, it lifted them off the ground briefly before gently setting them back down again.
And just then, Danny felt a rush of electricity dance across his back like the forked veins of a lightning bolt.
He looked over his shoulder, astonished, as a cluster of feathers began to sprout through the fabric of his blue cop shirt.
His eyes flashed back to Christian, who, to Danny’s surprise, didn’t seem to be scared in the least, like perhaps he even knew this part was coming.
Every new feather emerging from Danny’s back felt like a key turning, unlocking room after room that seemed to stretch deeper with every breath.
Christian’s fingers traced their way up Danny’s sweaty neck into his damp hair, drawing him close until their foreheads touched.
And then, like a miracle scrawled out on parchment, two eagle wings slowly birthed themselves from the blades of Danny’s shoulders, bursting free, unfurling like sails on a ship, shaking off their primordial slime.
Danny flung his arms around Christian as his eagle wings began flapping, and the two boys’ feet lifted from the dance floor and rocketed into the sky.
And it didn’t hurt a bit when they crashed through the stained-glass ceiling or when the cold autumn air blasted their sweaty faces like sheets of ice.
The only thing Danny could feel was the thump of Christian’s heartbeat as his fingers grasped at his hips, holding on for dear life.
They catapulted over the brownstones of Chelsea, up over Madison Square Park and Union Square and the building shaped like a wedge of cheddar cheese.
Christian hugged his arms tight around Danny as his wings flapped in the night sky, holding him close like a boy who’d never been held, sparks shooting from their heels as they skated over the tar roofs of Hell’s Kitchen.
“I didn’t know you could fly,” Christian whispered into Danny’s ear.
“I think I’m only just learning,” Danny murmured back.
Christian reached up and cradled the back of Danny’s head, his fingers finding shelter in his warm black curls.
“For a while,” Danny whispered, “I thought I was the only one.”
Nothing stings more than every light in the club being flipped on all at once. Christian and Danny yelped in pain as the music scratched to silence. They were back on the dance floor, the music replaced with the buzz of confused chatter.
“POLICE!” a voice shot across the room like a stray bullet, causing everyone in the club to duck.
“It’s a raid!” another voice called.
“Flush your shit!” said another.
“What do we do?!” Danny cried as a stampede of elbows poked and jabbed him in the face.
“This way!” Christian said, grabbing Danny’s hand and charging through the forest of sweaty torsos.
They fought their way to a door in the back of the club where Christian hurled himself against the metal bar, forcing it open.
They charged down a dark hallway, leaping over black electrical cords and pallets stacked with empty liquor bottles.
They turned a corner and ran until they came upon a door marked with a dimly lit EXIT sign and slammed through it, smacked by the stench of urine and three-day-old garbage.
“Come on!” Christian said, pulling Danny down the alley.
“Wait,” Danny said, clutching his ribs, tugging his barely dangling pig nose from his face. “We’re safe, right? No one will check back here?”
“Shit, I’m not willing to chance it,” Christian thundered. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll come back tomorrow and pick up my stuff, if Giuliani hasn’t shut the whole place down.”
“Will ya hold on a second,” Danny yowled, gripping the stone wall. “I wanna say something.”
This seemed to do it. Christian froze in his tracks and turned around slowly.
“Yeah?”
“Yes!” Danny panted. “I just wanted to say…that you were amazing tonight.”
“Come on, you’re drunk.” Christian laughed, grabbing at Danny’s hand.
“I am!” Danny laughed, roaring into the Chelsea sky. “And there’s somethin’ else.”
Danny looked up at his friend, at his sweaty face gleaming in the streetlight, at his contagious grin and his mess of hair that, even after everything that had happened tonight, still looked somehow perfectly placed.
Danny reached for Christian’s waist, his thumbs hooking back into their favorite hangout in the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him in tight like they were back on the dance floor, swaying to music that no one else could hear.
Danny had always wondered what his first kiss would be like, though he’d always had a hard time imagining who it’d be with.
For a while, he thought it might be with Julianna, a girl who lived on his block.
Her mom was friends with his mom, and she’d always wave, passing by on her bicycle.
Danny had always assumed it would be at a dance, that the DJ would play a slow song and he’d find himself brushing cheeks with a nice girl whose hair smelled like apples.
So in some ways, he’d dreamed up this night perfectly.
He’d gotten his dance and the sweet smell and the slow music, even if it was just playing in his head.
Danny leaned in and kissed Christian, hard at first, like he was scared he might disappear, but then softer like if he tried hard enough, he could memorize every millisecond.
But Danny had never imagined past this moment, had never gotten this far in his dreams, and with good cause, because no one could plan for what would happen next.
In a dark alley that smelled like piss on a Saturday night in October, Danny’s future came rumbling from his stomach, up his throat, and into his mouth.
Danny tore away just in time, Christian lurching back like someone lifting a basket and finding a rattlesnake, narrowly missing the slosh of four Staten Island iced teas shooting from Danny’s lips.
“Oh shit,” Danny coughed, falling to his knees and gagging out another gush of puke.
“Jesus,” Christian puffed, shuffling over to Danny and patting his back as the last of the liquid splattered onto the pavement. “I didn’t realize I was that bad of a kisser.”
Christian put an arm around Danny’s shoulder and helped him off the ground. Danny steadied himself, wiping his mouth on the cuff of his shirt.
“You’re not,” Danny muttered into his sleeve. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, that’s so embarrassing.”
“Nah, it happens to the best of us.” Christian laughed in resignation, flicking a speck of vomit off of his forearm. “We should get you home.”
“Yeah. You know where the closest subway is?”
“No way,” Christian said, shaking his head. “You can’t be taking the ferry at this hour looking like that.”
But before Danny could stop him, Christian had turned and bolted out into the street, his hand shooting into the air. “TAXI!”
“No, stop! Wait!” Danny called out over the screech of tires as a yellow cab pulled up to the alley. “I spent all my money, remember?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Christian snapped, opening the door of the taxi and stuffing the drunk disco piggy into the back seat.
Christian reached into his overalls pocket and pulled out a wad of sweaty dollar bills, his earnings from the evening, and dumped every single one of them into Danny’s lap.
“Staten Island,” Christian said to the cabbie through the driver’s-side window. “He’ll tell you where. The North Shore. Port Richmond Avenue, I think?”
“No, Christian!” Danny protested.
“Shush—” he said, reaching across Danny’s lap and buckling in his seat belt. “Get some sleep and call me tomorrow, tough guy.”
And with that, Christian slammed the door and Danny watched him dissolve into the night, like the moon slipping behind a cloud.
The cabbie floored it, rocketing for the Verrazano.
His wings were gone. His makeup was smeared.
His stomach was empty, and his mouth tasted like pennies.
But the pulse of the club still pounded in his ears.
He leaned his cheek against the window, the glass still cold from the night air. In the soft fog of his breath, he caught his reflection. Blurry, exhausted, changed. Not someone new. Just someone more.