Skeleton Keys

As much as Casey wanted to show his support, he was full of apprehension and anxiety. The fact that Zeke wasn’t in the best mood didn’t help.

“Family… fucking… reunion,” Zeke muttered as they got off the highway and headed into the heart of Marblehead.

“It might be fun,” Casey replied with a half-hearted shrug.

Zeke scoffed. “Oh, yea. Spending the entire day with my dumbass family is hilarious,” he grumbled. He glanced Casey’s way and bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Just… remember, my dad’s side of the family are--”

“Racists and homophobes. Yea, I remember that,” Casey interjected. “I’m a good friend that came along for the ride.”

A great groan escaped Zeke’s chest, rumbling and low in his throat. “I know it sucks. At least your parents are cool about it.”

“My parents don’t live in a gated community away from all the degenerates of the world. They may be hokey, but… they get it,” Casey said.

“Gated fucking… Jesus, the guards probably won’t let us in.”

“Maybe they’ll call the cops on us.”

Zeke laughed for the first time that morning. “Yea… promise me that if they give us trouble, you’ll act drunk and disorderly. The fam’ will totally disown me, and I’ll live in peace.”

Casey smiled. “Just wait for your trust fund to mature… NEXT summer, we’ll pull some shit on ‘em.”

“Yea, yea.”

It wasn’t long before they reached the Lake Erie area, and found themselves passing through rich-looking neighborhoods, parks, a golf course… “High class shit,” Casey muttered. He’d never seen such big houses in his life.

“Yea. We’re gonna fit in perfectly,” Zeke said.

“Wait, there’s the beach club,” Casey said, pointing to a large sign. “They said they were what, three streets down from that?”

“Left or right… ah, lakeside…” Zeke said while rolling his eyes and slowing down. “Courtney Lane, that’s it,” he said, then signaled and pulled into the long drive, until they came upon a large gate with a guard station. “Jesus fucking hell,” Zeke said with heavy disdain. A man emerged from the station and looked at the car with a wary gaze. With a sly grin, Zeke stopped but revved the engine, just a little. “He’s ready to press a panic button.”

“Be good, be good,” Casey nervously warned, but couldn’t help a grin.

“Hello, may I help you?” the guard, now at Zeke’s window, asked.

“Yea. I’m here for the Tyler family reunion, number eighteen,” Zeke said.

“Your names?”

Zeke glanced to Casey, who blinked. They wanted Casey’s name? “Um…” Zeke started, looking back to the man. “Zeke Tyler and Casey Connor.”

“All right.”

The boys looked on as the guard went to the station and brought out a clipboard. He scanned a paper then frowned. “Your names are on here… but your friend is marked down as a female.”

“Oh, sweet mother of…” Zeke said. “Case, get your license out.”

Feeling his stomach roll, Casey dug out his wallet and retrieved his ID. Zeke shoved it at the guard, who scrutinized it. “All right, that’s fine. I’ll call the Tyler residence and let them know you’ve arrived.”

Zeke took the license back, handed it to Casey and sank into his seat. “I said ‘he’, ‘his’, and ‘him’ about seventy-thousand times on the phone…”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. And like they didn’t read the papers after Marybeth.”

“Eh, it’s been months since I got any attention. Most people don’t know who I am anymore. I like it that way,” Casey said.

The gates then opened, and Zeke put the car in gear. Casey knew that he wanted to plow through and make as much noise as he could, but even Zeke had reservations with that. This would be the first time Zeke had seen his parents in almost a year, the only reason he was coming… more by their insistence than anything else. Yet no matter his bravado and apathy, Casey had noticed that his nails had been bitten to the quick in the past week, and he’d developed small, almost unnoticeable nervous habits. Fingers would drum on the table, he’d shift in his seat and look around aimlessly, and he was up to almost two packs a day. Casey reached over and gave Zeke’s knee a squeeze. “It’ll go all right. You’ll see.”

Zeke said nothing; he simply nodded curtly and looked to the left. “Eighteen. Get ready for fake love from my mom, she’s probably ready to…”

Sure enough, the front door opened as they pulled into the mile-long drive and parked. The woman coming out looked just like her picture that Zeke had shown Casey; brown hair tied into a bun, thin and pretty with a long, flowing dress. Zeke shut off the car, gripped the wheel for a moment then opened his door.

“Zeke, honey!” Mrs. Tyler cried out. Before Casey could shut his door behind him, the woman was taking Zeke into a tight hug. Zeke slinked one arm behind her back, barely returning the sentiment.

“Hi, Mom,” he said in a blank voice.

“And this must be… oh,” she said with surprise as he eyes fell on Casey next. She smiled nervously and looked back to Zeke. “We thought you were bringing a girl.”

“I used the proper pronouns the whole time I talked about ‘him’, Mom,” Zeke groaned out.

“Well, that’s all right. Welcome to the Tyler family reunion, Casey,” Mrs. Tyler said.

“Thanks,” the boy replied.

“Well, come in, come in! Your Aunt Miranda had a spectacular buffet put together, and your cousins are having a volleyball tournament at the beach,” she told Zeke.

“Cool,” Zeke said.

Casey, feeling a little invisible, followed the two of them to the house… or mansion, truth be told.

“So where’s Dad?” Zeke asked once on the porch.

“Oh… he called a bit ago to say that he had a surprise meeting this morning. He’ll be here later,” Mrs. Tyler said.

“Yea, sure,” Zeke replied. He darted a look over his shoulder to Casey; it screamed for help, but all Casey could do was get to his side and force a smile his way.


~*~


“When we have a family party…” Casey said while inspecting the bowl of dark black caviar. “It’s hot dogs and hamburgers.”

Zeke nodded, his eyes at half mast as he sniffed a piece of cheese. “God,” he said, snapping back from the slice. He practically threw it back to the table, where it ended up slapping into the ice sculpture. “Shit.”

Casey smiled as Zeke put it in the proper plate, but he set his eyes on the ice. “Tyler Coat of Arms, huh?”

“Yea, because this family has tons of crap to be proud of,” Zeke mumbled. He leaned in closer. “You saw my cousin Marjorie, right?”

“Yea,” Casey said. How could he forget the girl who’d leapt all over Zeke when she’d seen him, as if he were a long lost lover?

“She kept trying to get me to screw her growing up.”

Casey regretted taking a sip of punch; it almost sprayed the table, but he recovered as best he could. With a little dribbling from the corner of his mouth, he wiped his lips and turned to Zeke with an incredulous expression. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m not kidding. Then she got pregnant her freshman year, but we all pretended that we don’t know about it. It got ‘taken care of’.”

“Right,” Casey said. “But… please say her trying came up dry.”

“Like I could get a hard-on fucking a family member,” Zeke grumbled. “See that woman, over there?”

Trying to act discreet, Casey followed Zeke’s line of sight and found an older, very skinny woman. “Yea?”

“Cousin Lorraine. She’s had three failed marriages, two kids she doesn’t care about and an eating disorder. It’s a guarantee that she’ll gorge on an entire plate of cannolis then stick her finger down her throat,” Zeke explained. Casey frowned.

“That’s kinda sad,” he said.

Zeke rolled his eyes. “Don’t feel bad for her. She grew up in this house, her ass was spoiled hardcore. Little prima donna.”

“Yea, but…”

“Zeke, man! What’s up?”

The exuberant voice from behind startled Casey; he turned to find two young men that looked like they belonged on Herrington High’s football team. The knot in Casey’s stomach tied tighter and made him turn back to the food.

“Hey Trenton,” Zeke said. Before he could prepare himself, Trenton grabbed his shoulder and bumped fists, laughing.

“Dude, what’s up? It’s been years! Hey, this is a friend of mine from ‘Dame, Blaine,” he introduced.

“Hey, ‘sup?” Zeke croaked out while rubbing the back of his neck--another nervous action.

“Who’s this?” Trenton asked.

“Oh, my friend, Casey,” Zeke said.

Now Casey couldn’t escape into the crab dip and lobster bisque without looking rude. He turned with the best smile he could paste on. “Hey.”

“Hey--dude, we thought you were bringing a chick, Zee,” Trenton chortled. He sniffed and rubbed his nose a moment before his smile returned. “You ain’t seeing anyone, or what?”

“No… the girls where I’m from aren’t worth it,” Zeke said. Casey held back a laugh and turned to the food again.

“Aw shit, LOADS of prime-pussy at the lake. C’mon outside, Cousin Paris brought like, fifteen of her friends. Shit, watching ‘em play volleyball…” Trenton said.

“Yeeea, okay,” Zeke drawled. With a slap to his shoulder, Trenton and Blaine walked off towards the back. Zeke steeled his jaw and turned back around. “Fuckin’ cokehead.”

“Yea, I thought he was a bit… excited,” Casey replied. “So, any of that ‘prime-pussy’ interest you?”

Zeke snorted and leaned in closer. “Maybe we could sneak off somewhere for prime-dick,” he murmured in Casey’s ear.

That wasn’t fair at all.


~*~


“…So after I made partner, I fired his ass. Goddamned ‘Equal Opportunity Employment’; he didn’t even know how to use the Xerox machine.”

Casey swallowed hard in listening to Zeke’s uncles talking while smoking fat cigars. He sat in the corner of the large porch, wondering how long Zeke was going to take in getting some soda…if this party had any to begin with. So far, he’d been offered at least five beers, turning down each one and making Zeke’s cousins look at him funny when he did. Blaine was already making a record of how many Coronas he could down in an hour; he fit into the family quite well…

“I’d love to send a few ‘African’t’s I work with to the unemployment line myself. Jesus.”

“Yea, but then they cry ‘racist’ and all that bullshit.”

“God, the crutches they use…”

Casey winced and closed his eyes. He wished he had the guts to stand up and start reaming them out about their abhorrent behavior and attitudes, but knew he’d get close to being strung up for doing so. Even with the crap Gabe Santora had given him all throughout high school, he’d gotten angry for him in hearing two skinheads in the library at school making fun of him with creative, disgusting slurs. He couldn’t sit here much longer before exploding. When Zeke finally emerged from the house, he almost jumped into his arms in relief.

“Hey, sorry it took so long. I got assaulted by my grandma.” Zeke handed Casey a cold can of Coke and shook his head. “You doin’ all right?”

“Hah… can we go outside?” Casey asked; he made a quick nod to the chortling group of ‘men’, who had now moved onto the subject of ‘stupid bitches’. Zeke gave Casey an understanding nod, and they both left the porch through the back door. As tense as this party had been so far, being outside on the beach was refreshing. Cool winds tousled his hair and made him breathe easier. “Is it rude of me to say that I’d like to firebomb your family?” he asked. Zeke laughed, loudly.

“That’s the spirit, Case,” Zeke said, daring to put an arm around his shoulders to slap the opposite side. Casey smiled and shook his head.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Zeke!” someone called; it was Trenton again, who was sitting with Blaine and a load of girls. They were all giggling, adjusting bikini straps, flipping their hair…

“Hey,” Zeke said as they approached.

“C’mon, siddown--Blaine brought some good shit.”

Casey tensed as he watched Blaine filling a pipe. Sniffing the air, he figured that the group had already passed it around.

“Naw, no thanks,” Zeke said. “I don’t do that stuff anymore.”

“Oh, come on. It’s just weed. Casey?” Blaine said, holding the pipe out to the boy.

“Um… yea, no,” he stammered, trying to chuckle. It came out forced and nervous; just like with the refused beers, he gained a few odd looks.

“Man, do you guys do anything?” Trenton chortled out. “At least sit down with us, catch up and shit.”

Zeke still looked tense, but he crouched down and put his knees up to his chest. He brought out his cigarettes, took two out and handed Casey one. Even though Casey barely smoked, he needed it now. He took it and sat next to him, then let Zeke light it for him. Instant regret piled up in just that alone--it was sure to look bad to everyone, but they didn’t seem to notice.

“So, are you guys staying the night?” a girl coyly asked of Trenton. Trenton nudged Blaine and chuckled.

“Yea, I think so. Why?”

“We were going to ditch at sundown and head out to Amber’s. Her parents just stocked the bar before leaving for Cancun for the month,” she said. Everyone ‘oohed’ with interest.

“Aw, sweet. Yea, that sounds awesome,” Blaine said.

“I’ve got plenty of good stuff to bring, too. Got some prime blow in Toronto a few days ago,” Trenton said.

Christ. Casey’s hand shook the cola up to his lips, hoping to blend into the sand.

“Zeke, you in?”

“No, don’t think so. We’re heading back to Herrington after this shit,” Zeke said.

“Jesus, it’s one night. What happened to my cohort in crime?” Trenton asked.

Zeke wore a small, shaky grin. He fiddled with a piece of grass, drawing circles in the sand. “I’m just not into wild parties anymore. I dunno.”

“But you used to be the wildest of the bunch. What about Casey, here?”

There was silent, derisive chuckling now. Casey figured that he was an obvious ‘good boy’ to these people. “I’m no crazy-kid, either,” he answered.

“Duh,” Blaine said as he lit up his pipe. Casey ignored it, while Zeke’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t say anything, however, thank the gods.

“Well, if I can’t change your mind, Amber sure can,” Trenton said. He nodded to one of the girls, who smiled devilishly. “She’s got a thing for muscle cars--you should see his. Shit…”

“What is it?” she asked with interest.

“1970 GTO,” Zeke answered.

“Ooh… bet it’s hot,” she said. Casey watched with horror as the girl sidled up to him, obviously high and getting ‘friendly’. “What’s the backseat like?”

Again, more ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ went around. Casey tried to smile, but he felt more like throwing sand in the girl’s face. Zeke blushed and put his head back to force a laugh. “Nothing special.”

“Sure,” Amber said, now sneaking a hand to his thigh.

This was madness; heavy smoke billowed around them, making Casey’s eyes burn--the vision of this girl’s blatant flirting was doing the same. There seemed to be nothing either of them could do, however; Casey’s breathing became faster, watching his boyfriend getting his leg felt up, with yet another girl shuffling over to get close to Zeke. “I’m Brooke--one of Amber’s best friends,” she said.

“Aha, right,” Zeke replied. His eyes were darting everywhere…

“Zeke?”

Casey looked back to the house, seeing a man wearing a suit walking over. Blaine hissed and tried concealing the pipe, which was still smoking and fragrant. “Shit, shit…”

“Don’t worry--Uncle Dan’s fine with it,” Trenton told him with a smile.

Dan--shit. Casey looked to Zeke, who seemed to be fighting the idea of looking over to his father. He soon had no choice, as the man was now at his side. Zeke finally looked up and coughed. “Oh… hey, Dad.”

“Is that all I get? Come on, now,” Mr. Tyler said with a friendly slap to Zeke’s shoulder.

With another deep groan, Zeke got to his feet; perhaps it was uncomfortable to have to hug his absentee father, but it took him away from the girls, at least. Casey swirled the can around, listening to the cola splash inside of it.

“It’s good to see you; glad you came.” Mr. Tyler parted from Zeke, while still holding his arms. “So, where’s your girlfriend?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play coy. Your mother said you were bringing a ‘Casey’ with you.”

Everyone now chuckled, not bothering to hide it.


~*~


Once again, Casey was left to his own devices. Mr. Tyler was introducing his son to friends of his, and Casey wasn’t involved in that equation. All he could do was watch as Zeke, stiff and blank-faced--shook hands with men he didn’t know or cared about. It made Casey feel a bit ill in seeing Mr. Tyler give Zeke fatherly claps to the shoulder and talk about how ‘proud’ he was of him in graduating. When the subject of Marybeth came up, Zeke made to turn away.

“Dad, I’m hungry…” Casey heard him say.

“So is it true--you were the one to kill her?” one man asked with strange delight.

“No. No, that was--”

“He was brave. I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Mr. Tyler interrupted.

“It wasn’t me that did it, Dad. Jesus,” Zeke snapped. “It was Casey.”

When heads turned to look Casey’s way, Casey cleared his throat and shot his eyes back to the prime rib platter. He heard a small scoff. “Right,” one man said. The doubt in his voice was palpable.

“I’m hungry,” Zeke growled out again, this time managing to pull away from his father’s hold. He was successful in his escape, and was soon standing next to Casey. “I wanna get out of here.”

“So let’s go,” Casey said, shrugging.

“They won’t let me. Can…” Zeke mumbled, almost frantic as he leaned in closer. “Can you like… pretend to faint or something?”

“Um… sure, Zeke,” Casey chuckled. He stopped when he really looked at Zeke’s face. “Oh come on. No, I’m not… Zeke…”

“Heeey!”

Zeke flinched and turned to his right. “Hey Trenton.”

With a grab to Zeke’s shoulder, Trenton smiled wide. “Dude, we’re gonna head down to the boardwalk. No one’s down there… we’re gonna camp out under it and dude, oh my god,” he rambled. Leaning in closer, Trenton went on. “The girls are gonna put on a strip show.”

“Um…” Zeke mumbled.

“Can’t say no to that.”

“Actually, Casey ain’t feeling too good,” Zeke rushed out. Casey almost shot him a look but stopped himself. “We’re gonna head out soon.”

Trenton stepped back a little, his smile melting into a frown. “Dude, what is up with you? The Zeke that I grew up with would’ve killed for the chance to see a bunch of bitches get it on.”

“Well, things change.”

“Sure as fuck, they do. What’s wrong with you?” Trenton asked; he sniffed, glanced to Casey and looked back to Zeke. He suddenly chuckled. “You guys fags or something?”

Zeke stood straighter; the only warning he gave Casey was a flare of his nostrils. Before Casey could interject with something… any-thing, Zeke nodded fast. “Ding! You win, Trenton,” Zeke said.

“Huh?”

Zeke slung his arm over Casey’s shoulders. “We fag it up--BIG time. That’s why I’m not interested in seeing a bunch of chicks shake their dinners at me.”

“Um… what?” Trenton mumbled. “Stop fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re a fag? Bullshit.”

It was then that Casey’s chin was grabbed, his face brought up and Zeke was there, kissing him wildly. Casey opened his eyes in shock; he could see the attention they were getting and almost started panicking… but shit, wow, this kiss was one of the best Zeke had ever given him…

“Zeke!” Mr. Tyler was suddenly there, grabbing Zeke’s shoulder and pulling him away from Casey. The young man wore a wild smile as he turned to his father.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Stop--what’re you DOING?” the man bellowed.

Casey rubbed his lips with the back of his hand; even with the room suddenly feeling stifling and hot, even with the shocked expressions of everyone around him, he felt giddy.

“I’m kissing my boyfriend. My very gay boyfriend. He’d HAVE to be gay to kiss me, and I’d have to be gay to kiss back. Your son’s a fuckin’ fruit, Dad,” Zeke proclaimed.

“My… no, this is a joke--”

The back door opened, and two of Zeke’s uncles stepped in. “What’s going on?”

“Dad!” Trenton said, running over to one of them. He turned and pointed an accusing finger at Casey and Zeke. “They’re… fuck, they’re…”

“He’s trying to say ‘they’re fags’,” Zeke finished for him. He went behind Casey and put his arms around his shoulders to his front, making quite the show of it. “And c’mon, who could resist this face?”

“Zeke…” Casey hissed, but was having a hard time keeping his grin at bay.

“Oh my god… that’s disgusting,” Trenton’s father spat. “I thought better of you, Nephew.”

Zeke raised his eyebrows. “Oh, what? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you past the giant cloud of cocaine that’s puffing out of your son’s nose,” he said.

“That’s enough!” Mr. Tyler bellowed.

“Give it UP, Dad. I’d rather be a fag than an anorexic, coke-snorting, incestuous, racist, misogynistic prick,” Zeke snarled out. At everyone’s look of shock, he rolled his eyes and held up his arms. “Go ahead, cos’ I could give a shit! I beg of you, PLEASE disown me, because being in this family makes me wanna stab my eyes out with a shrimp fork!” he yelled, picking one of the utensils up from the table for visual effect.

“Zeke… let’s just…” Casey murmured, trying to soothe the young man. Truth was, he wanted to bust out laughing at this display. But he had to do something, as Zeke was slowly starting to lose it. Zeke finally turned to him and raised his eyebrows.

“Get out of here? Yea, good idea,” he said. He took his keys from his pocket and made a small, generic wave to everyone. “See ya guys. We’re gonna head home and fuck each other senseless. Oh, and be sure to stop by the boardwalk to watch underage girls take off their clothes. That should be great for you, Uncle Dave,” Zeke said, nodding to one of the men that had come in.

Casey didn’t want to know what Zeke had meant by that; he didn’t want to stick around here much longer, either. Lucky for him, Zeke held onto his shoulders tight and walked them through the stilled crowds of people, who still seemed too shocked to move.


~*~


“I was expecting you to kill one of the servants.”

“Hmm?”

Casey smiled and lit a cigarette. He had to fight the wind coming through the opened window, but managed to inhale enough smoke to get it started. He breathed it out and continued. “In Norse myth, Loki did exactly what you did. He started pointing around the room at the other gods and goddesses and shit, telling everyone’s dirty secrets when they tried giving HIM shit. But he started off by killing a servant.”

“Didn’t know that. The guy serving canapés was a little prick. I think he was a fag, too,” Zeke said.

“Oh, he blipped on my gaydar BIG time.”

Zeke snorted. “Well, guess my trust fund’s out the window. Who knows--maybe I’ll have to move out. I’ll empty the accounts before all of that, though.”

“I’ll work at a diner to make money, baby. Don’t you worry,” Casey cooed. “We’ll live like we’re a Bon Jovi song.”

The rest of the drive was spent singing ‘Livin’ On a Prayer’ at the top of their lungs, sneaking hands into laps, and talking about Zeke moving to Indiana to be closer to Casey’s college. Their goodnight kiss had made Casey break his curfew, but all his mother did was smile wryly at him from the porch steps when he finally left the car.