Tawny Rockerazzi

An excerpt from the novel, That Place Where Land and Sky Meet.

Sammy knew he should go home, try to get a few hours of sleep, but he sat in his car and stared toward the mesa waiting for the sun to rise. He’d seen thousands of Santa Fe sunsets, those famous clashes between light and sky, but he rarely got to see it go the other way.

The last few hours had gone by too fast, but not in the way that made him want to slow them down and savor them more. The night had started out normal, waiting tables and going clubbing, dancing and drinking but not getting shit-faced, and then standing against a dark wall with Martin. It was near closing time when Martin said something to Sammy.

“What?” Sammy yelled. Martin hadn’t bothered to lean in close or speak loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I’m going to take off,” Martin said. “Nothing left but the dregs here. I better get out before anyone thinks I’m Last Call.”

“I’ll flip you to see who has to drive Todd home,” Sammy said.

“Why do either of us have to drive him home?” Martin asked. “He has a car.”

“For Christ’s sake, Martin. Look at him.”

Todd was on the dance floor, twirling round and round until he got so dizzy that he almost fell down. The only reason he didn’t fall down is because some girl with purple hair pushed him back upright.

“I am looking at him,” Martin said. “And there’s no way I’m letting that little puke monster into my car.”

“Jesus, you’re a prissy bitch.” Sammy pushed passed Martin and serpentined his way across the dance floor.

“Sammy!” Todd threw his arms around his neck. “Where’ve ya been?”

“Come on, kiddo. It’s time to get you home.”

Sammy dragged Todd off the dance floor. He dragged him down three flights of stairs, and dragged him four stumbling, giggling, red brick blocks to his car. The first thing Sammy did after starting the ignition was roll down the passenger window. “If you have to puke, lean out.”

“I’m not gonna puke,” Todd said.

“Okay, well just in case . . . you’ve got to lean out the window, okay?”

“Okie-dokie,” Todd said. “Okie-dokie do.”

Todd fiddled with the dial on Sammy’s radio for the whole drive. “I love this song!” he yelled, and sang, Hold me closer tiny dancer! Then he changed the station and said, “Oh, this song sucks,” and sang, You’ve had a bad day, you’re takin’ one down, then changed the station again. Like a virgin! Touched for the very first time!

When they finally arrived at Todd’s house, Sammy came around to the other side of the car and opened the door. “We’ve got to be really quiet so we don’t wake up your mom,” he said. It’s not that Todd’s mom would freak. She was an acupuncturist or naturopath or something like that—one of those cool hippie moms. It’s just that no one needed to be woken up by Todd singing Madonna at two in the morning.

“I can’t get out,” Todd said.

Sammy sighed loudly. He positioned Todd’s arms around his neck and hefted him out of the car. They ended up with their bodies pressed front-to-front, which might have been a turn-on, except Todd was hanging limp in Sammy’s arms. He shuffled them toward the front door like how you dance with a little girl standing on your shoes. Not that Sammy had ever done that, but he’d seen it in movies. He had to use one hand to open the front door, making Todd flop over backwards.

Sammy dragged Todd into his bedroom, and dropped him back on his bed. As he was yanking off his shoes, Todd mumbled, “The ceiling’s going round and round.”

“Get some sleep, baby,” Sammy said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sammy, wait.” Todd tried to push himself upright, and it was a sad little sight, but he did manage to rise his torso off the bed. “Come ’ere.” He reached out and grabbed the front of Sammy’s shirt, meaning he wasn’t holding himself upright anymore, meaning he and Sammy fell back onto his bed together. Todd’s lips were really wet, and his mouth was really hot. “Stay with me,” he whispered. He grabbed Sammy’s hand and clumsily led it to his crotch. Damn it if that boy wasn’t hard—and surprisingly large.

“Honey, I’m way too …” What? Old for Todd? Bitter? Or something else. Something Sammy didn’t want to name, even though it kept asking to be named, and he kept trying to shove it back down. He stood upright. “You need to sleep this off, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.” Jesus, he hoped Todd wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.

“Sammy, you know I love you, right?”

Sammy closed Todd’s door behind him. He got into his car and rolled down all the windows and turned off the stereo and let the night air wash it away as he drove across town. He pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building, not his apartment building, and climbed the stairs to the second floor. He knocked on the third door down. Martin opened the door wearing nothing but black Calvin Kleins.

“It took you long enough,” Martin said. He turned and walked towards his bedroom. “It’s not like I have all night.”

A slit of grey light peeked at Sammy through the morning sky. It rolled slowly over the mesas, giving form to the world. Trees became trees. Adobe turned brown. The sky turned pink then yellow then blue. Sammy started his car, and headed back towards home.