Ties Stronger Than Blood
folder
G through L › Lost Boys
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
19
Views:
4,330
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
G through L › Lost Boys
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
19
Views:
4,330
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Lost Boys, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Thirteen
by ScribeChapter Thirteen
Marko stared resentfully at the tie that dangled limply in his hands. "I hate this. I can't even use a clip on."
John, putting a final polish on his shoes, shot him a sympathetic look. "You know what Ruth says about that."
"It's a sign of laziness, and a lack of respect for our audience." He darted a glance at this grandfather. "Crock number 65." Luther, who was sitting beside John on the bed, covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. "It's bad enough when I have to wear a button-down shirt, jacket, and tie when we perform in an air conditioned sanctuary, but we're performing outside. I'm going to be sweating like a hog before the first song is over." Still grumbling, Marko looped the tie over his head, sliding the knot up to his throat. He started to straighten it, then scowled. Grabbing the end, he jerked it up over his head, tilting his head sharply to the side, and made a gagging noise.
John was smiling, but he said, "Marko..."
"Well--Jesus never wore a necktie."
"Jesus didn't have to deal with your grandmother."
Marko chuckled. "Yeah. Sort of makes you understand the term 'enough to try the patience of a saint.'" He sighed. "Just once I'd like to be able to wear a t-shirt. I mean heck, I'm supposed to appeal to the younger audience--that's what Ruth always tells me. When was the last time you saw a bunch of suits at one of our outdoor concerts? I could wear a One Way, or a Jesus Saves shirt."
Luther remarked, "I thought you'd given up on griping about the dress code a long time ago, Marko. What's suddenly brought this up again?"
Marko shrugged, and it seemed as if he wouldn't speak, but after a brief pause he said, "I haven't been worried about how I look before. I'd just rather not look like a prig tonight."
Luther and John exchanged glances, and John put down his shoe, turning his full attention to the boy. "Could it be that there's someone in particular that you'd rather not look priggish before?"
Marko gave him a level look. "Could be."
John smiled. "I'm glad. But it isn't one of the girls from the church that's sponsoring us, is it? You haven't spent much time with them."
Marko smiled. "No, it's definitely not one of them."
"I'm only asking because I'm pretty sure that only one of them would have any kind of a chance of passing Ruth's requirements for even a temporary companion. I know that you wouldn't want to expose someone you liked to Ruth's tongue when she might disapprove."
"I can guaranty you Ruth wouldn't approve, but..." Marko hesitated, then continued. "But I don't think it would matter much to David."
There was silence in the room. Both Luther and John had gone very still. Finally John said heavily, "I'm pleased that you trust my love enough to tell me this, Marko."
"I just thought you'd understand--you and Luther." Another silence. John was blushing hotly, and Luther had gone dreadfully pale. "It's all right. John, I'm happy you found someone you can love. I think it's great." He gave Luther a gentle smile. "And I think you both have been very lucky to find each other. I hope this can turn out to be as lucky for me."
Without another word, John stood up, walked over to Marko, and embraced the boy. Marko returned the hug, feeling the older man tremble. He patted John's back, saying, "I shouldn't have said anything right before the show, but... I don't know. I wanted..."
John pulled back a little, wiping his eyes. "You wanted to share. Something like this, finding someone special--you don't want to keep it to yourself." He gave Marko a brilliant smile. "Do you know how good it is to finally have someone I can talk to about him--about us?"
Marko walked over to Luther, and put a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Luther?"
Luther looked up at him, eyes moist. "I've never told anyone but John how I am, and I didn't really tell him. It's a good thing, because I don't think I'd have ever been able to say it right out loud. You know how Ruth is? My parents, my family, everyone I grew up with--they make her look open-minded. If I hadn't had my music, and then John... I wouldn't have lasted this long. It has been hard, not being open about how we feel toward each other, but... Marko, you'll be careful not to let anything slip about this? I know you wouldn't mean to, but..."
*He doesn't realize that Ruth probably knows what's going on already.* "Of course, Luther. Well, we don't have much more time." He straightened his tie, then stuck his tongue out at his own reflection. "We'd better get ready."
The Frog brothers stood in the doorway of their comic shop, studying the crowd that thronged the boardwalk. Edgar said, "This is a lot better turn-out than I would have expected for a gospel group."
His brother nodded. "It usually takes a rock band to get this kind of crowd." He scowled, dark brows lowering. "I wish it was a rock band."
Edgar listened to the music that floated up from the stage down on the beach. "I dunno. It's not my type of music, but at least it's not that tinkly New Age crap." He shifted his shoulders slightly. "It has a beat, and you can dance to it." He eyed a small knot of boys and girls. The girl's wore skirts down around their knees and blouses so loose you'd have to look five minutes to find a bust line. Some of the boys were wearing jeans not only were unfaded, but had nary a rip or patch to be seen--some of them appearing to have actually been ironed. "If any of these people actually dance."
"What's pissing me off," said Alan, "is that this sort of crowd doesn't buy comic books, or if they do it's nothing but Archie, and our profit margin on those is shitty." He sighed. "I almost wish we had some of the usual thugs around." Three boys in jeans and leather, two blondes and one with long, dark hair, strolled down the boardwalk and stopped in front of their store, staring out at the crowd jostling on the beach. Alan's eyes narrowed. "Almost being the operative word," he whispered.
The words were barely breathed, but the trio on the boardwalk turned, as one, to stare at them. The two blondes smiled, while the dark haired one's expression was sullen, almost pouting. The shorter one, hands in the pockets of his long leather duster, nodded genially. "Hello, boys. How's business?"
"Not good enough to make it worth robbing the place," snapped Edgar.
Dwayne's scowl deepened, but Paul's smile only became a little feral, and David laughed softly. "Friend, you don't have anything in your register that would interest us." The light glinted off his smile. "I thought you'd figured that out by now."
The Lost Boys turned and walked off into the crowd, headed for the stairs that would take them down to the beach. Edgar and Alan watched them go. Not looking at his brother, Edgar said, "It's a good thing they can't come in here."
Alan shot him a glance. "They can't?"
Now Edgar looked back at him. "Well... yeah. We never invited them. You didn't invite them, did you?"
"Edgar--this is a public shop."
"But we live in the back, so it's our home. They have to be invited into your home."
"Home is the back part--the front is open to the public."
Edgar said stubbornly, "Well, I consider it home."
"I think this is sort of like in court--how you interpret the law doesn't make a hell of a lot of difference in how things actually operate."
"Well, fuck! All these months I've just been assuming that we were safe in here, when they might be able to..." He stiffened, gritting his teeth, then turned to stalk toward the back of the store.
"Where are you going?" Alan called.
"I'm gonna go roast a few bulbs of Elephant garlic. I figure if I mix the paste with holy water, then spread it around the doorframe, that ought to keep vampires away."
Alan wrinkled his nose as his brother disappeared, then turned back to watching the crowd, muttering, "Yeah, and anyone else with working olfactory cells."
There were a few adults in the audience, but most of them were young, from barely teens to twentysomethings. Luther had managed to convince Ruth that a program of nothing but traditional songs wouldn't work, so they'd interspersed a heavy lacing of contemporary Christian music, though she grumbled that you could scarcely tell the difference between it and pop, or even rock and roll. Marko was tempted to say that you could if you actually listened to the lyrics, but he resisted the urge.
There were more people than they'd expected. Against all appearances, it seemed that Santa Carla was going to be a profitable stop. They might even be asked to play an encore performance.
Marko enjoyed performing, and he could usually bury his tensions and anger toward Ruth when he sang. It helped when the audience really responded. There were some nights that he could tell that they were... getting something from him. It made him feel a little empty to realize that he wasn't intentionally trying to give them anything, that he wasn't trying to pass along a message--he was just entertaining. But when they obviously enjoyed the music, it helped. *Maybe I can't give them what they're looking for,* he thought, *but I can give them something.*
He always had good eye contact with the audience, but tonight his eyes roved over them restlessly, looking for one person in particular. About halfway through the show, not long after sunset--there he was. He turned from getting a sip of water, and David was standing down in the front, flanked by Paul and Dwayne.
John knew when Marko's friends arrived. The boy's face just lit up, his smile almost glowing. They moved into the more contemporary section of the show, and Marko really shone there. John had a feeling that if a music producer ever saw the boy in concert, when he was really on--like now--that Marko could quickly move into the rarified air of top gospel singers--the kind who could fill arenas almost as easily as a pop star.
Since Ruth refused to sing back-up on any of the less-than-traditional songs, she took a seat back by the band, and Luther took a microphone and left the piano to stand with John. Both of the men loved these parts of the show, where they could really work together, letting their voices blend.
Marko went through several popular modern religious songs, moving around the stage, dipping and swaying to the infectious music. The crowd responded to his obvious enthusiasm, an electric excitement beginning to build. During one vigorous songs Marko suddenly jerked his tie loose, pulling it off and tossing it on the piano to the approving calls of the audience. He didn't bother to look back at Ruth, knowing that her expression would be outraged. He thought that he might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, and the jacket was soon discarded, also. As he'd predicted to John, he'd been sweating heavily, and the night breeze on the damp cloth of his shirt was exhilarating.
The energy kept rising, not even Ruth's silent, steaming disapproval dampening it. Marko was exhilarated as he watched Paul and Dwayne bouncing in the front of the crowd, dancing as they had at the rock concert, joined by many of the less staid youths. David didn't dance. He just stood, arms crossed, watching Marko. But he smiled--oh, yes--he smiled.
The final song was the same as always, and Ruth did get up to join them again. But by now Marko was so pumped up that he hardly noticed her as the band fired up and he swept into the song.
"Some glad morning when this life is o'er, I'll fly away..."
His voice was strong and joyful. He sounded like he believed in what he was singing. *But,* David thought, *there's more than one kind of escape.*
"I'll fly away, Oh Glory! I'll fly away..."
"In the morning," sang John and Ruth. But compared to Marko's ringing declaration, this sounded weak--almost forced, as if they were protesting that what would be was not quite what he was anticipating.
"When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away!" The final line of the chorus repudiated their cautions. It was as if Marko had a vision of what was to be, and it was a liberating experience that might not entirely jibe with the traditional Christian view of salvation.
"When the shadows of this life have gone, I'll fly away. Like a bird from prison bars has flown, I'll fly away."
*That's what it'll be like for you, won't it, Marko?* thought David. *You've been a caged bird all your life. This life has been shadows to you, and leaving it would be freedom.* The rest of the song... It was as if Marko was speaking to him, assuring him that what David wanted to give him was what he, himself, wanted--that it was right. Just a few more weary days, and he'd fly away to a world where joy would never end. *Yeah, Marko. That's what I want to do for you. If you can just hang on for another couple of days, till I can let you know what this is all about--till you can understand...*
"When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, I'll fly away!" Marko's voice soared--clear, pure, and powerful. It was joyous and fiercely determined, all at once. This was something that would happen, something he would achieve. And if the rapt, shining faced Christian youths in the audience believed he was speaking about the salvation they'd heard about in church... What did it matter? They took from it what they needed, and Marko was content.
There was loud applause, laced with cries and whistles, as the group took their bows, and the music gradually wound down. Marko, eyes fixed on David, started toward the edge of the stage. He was brought up short by a tight grip on his arm, and he looked around, irritated at being delayed. Ruth was glaring at him. She hissed, "I don't know what you thought you were doing tonight, Mark, but we'll discuss it later."
"Maybe." He shook his arm. "Let go. I'm going to meet a friend."
Ruth's expression darkened. "Is that what you think? You're going to be signing CDs down front, like you always do. You know very well they buy more if they can get them signed."
Marko jerked violently, saying loudly, "Can't you stop thinking about the money for one minute?"
Young people in the front of the crowd quieted down, watching this exchange with round eyes. Ruth lowered her voice even more, saying, "You will not make a disgraceful scene, Mark! Now, go over and get your pen, and..."
He tore himself away from her grasp, not bothering to be gentle. "I said no! You want to sell more of the CDs, Ruth? Drop the price! You take a sixty per cent mark up on them. Drop it to forty per cent if you're really interested in spreading the good word." The last few words were bitterly ironic. He turned from her and lightly dropped down off the edge of the low stage, landing in front of David.
David was smiling at him. "Independence Day?"
Marko found that he was breathing heavily. "I don't know. Close to. Maybe the third of July."
"Mark! Get back up here." Ruth's voice was shrill. "Come away from that punk. John, say something."
Marko glanced back. John was looking down at him. Understanding passed between them. John shrugged. "What can I do? He's not a little boy anymore."
David bumped Marko with his shoulder. "Care to go hang out with the other punks at our underground lair--maybe get debauched?"
Marko grinned fiercely. "Absolutely."
They disappeared into the crowd as Ruth's voice, near incoherent with rage, rose in a tirade that had many of the good people attending the concert questioning her Christian tolerance, and perhaps her sanity.
I'll Fly Away
Some glad morning when this life is o'er,
I'll fly away;
To a home on God's celestial shore,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).
I'll fly away, Oh Glory
I'll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).
When the shadows of this life have gone,
I'll fly away;
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away)
I'll fly away, Oh Glory
I'll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).
Just a few more weary days and then,
I'll fly away;
To a land where joy shall never end,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away)
I'll fly away, Oh Glory
I'll fly away; (in the morning)
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away (I'll fly away).