[Laudanum]: 697.The Part You Throw Away

The Part You Throw Away


When you loose the flowers hold on to the vase
Will you wipe all those teardrops away from your face
I can't help thinking as I close the door
I have done all of this
Many times before
-Tom Waits




Sure, there was a time when I didn't believe in love. There was also a time when I thought the atomic bomb was some kind of half-baked theory my Pops had cooked up in his skillet of a brain. All it took to sell me on both was an explosion. The first happened two months ago to the day.

There I was, making my way down to the drug store to pick up some Pall Malls, the cigarette that occurred wherever particular people congregate. Whatever the hell that meant. I barely handed over my dollar bill when Boom. The room filled with smoke from some novelty shop smoke bomb. I stood there like a nincompoop as I heard the click of a switchblade behind me. I prayed to every deity that popped into my head as I heard a thick Brooklyn whisper ordering me to hand over my wallet. I wasn't completely stupid. I knew what to do in situations like this. I reached into the pocket of my coat and pulled out my wallet, handing it over kindly to the figure that was waving a jack-knife at the back of my neck. This transaction was completed with a laugh from the gentleman behind me as he ran out of the store. I snagged the pack of smokes and walked out shortly afterward, hoping not to come eye to eye with that blade.

After a furious session of beating the pack of smokes into my palm, I brought it to my lips and drew out a cigarette, lighting it with my Zippo. The streets were crowded this time of day, so there was no chance in Hell I'd find this thief. I thought it best to leave the authorities out of this mess. I may only be barely old enough to vote, but that didn't mean I couldn't have a vendetta. Besides, I did catch a glimpse of the jackass's trench coat. It was fire-engine red. Not something you see around here. This town is mostly in black and white. If an outsider came into town, they'd be sure bright colors were outlawed. Chalk it up to bad taste. Chalk it up to a boring town. Whatever you do, don't chalk it up to legislature.

I decided I'd spend the day penniless down at The Ashtray. The Ashtray was the kind of bar you'd go to if you just caught your wife in bed with another man. I didn't have a wife. I was five glasses deep in tap water by the time eight o'clock rolled around. And that's when he walked in.

For the sake of art, I'll call him Red for now. Red sat down next to me laughing up a storm. He wore goggles around his neck, nothing industrial I'd imagine, something more like fashionable. He had a ring in his lip that looked like a ear-piercing that missed it's mark. His coal-black hair was skewed outward with pomade and he had mutton chops down to the outskirts of his chin. This was him alright. He patted me on the shoulder like an old friend, and I shot him the dirty eye... Well, when he was looking away. He pulled out a wallet that was all too familiar. The monogrammed initials on the front were mine. The worn-in eel-skin that I'd worked a summer to earn was there in his hand. He asked me if I wanted something other than the warm tap water I'd been nursing since he walked in. I decided to be all buddy-buddy with this jackass. He ordered me a beer and bought himself a handle of whiskey. Well, it was more of my treat, since he was paying out of my wallet.

After a good bit of conversing, I'd find out his name. Jude Savage. Said everyone just called him Savage. I could see why. Though I couldn't imagine this guy having too many friends. Could be a risk with his business of pickpocketing. It was after he downed half the bottle, that he had to go take a leak. This was it. The moment I'd been waiting for all day. I nodded as he walked off. I reached into my pocket and thumbed the button on my knife. I'd let him get a few steps away before I too excused myself to the restrooms.

I pulled open the heavy wooden door, and walked up behind him. He'd barely even got his fly down as I tapped him on the shoulder. I was about to knock his lights out, but instead I pinned him to an empty spot on the wall and forced my lips against his. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I was even more confused when his tongue pushed through those gorgeous lips and brushed against mine.

I finally pulled back after what could've been twenty minutes of doing the tongue-tango with this kid. He was speechless. So was I. He pulled out his knife, and I was still too dazed to grab mine. But instead of lunging at me with it, he scraped it across his cheek, drawing blood. He said if anyone asked, we had a knife-fight. He handed me my wallet back, along with a piece of paper. He said that's what we were fighting for. I'm not even sure if he knew it was my wallet in the first place. I opened the piece of paper. It was part of a map with a red circle around some building. I turned to ask him what it meant, but he was out the door of the restroom, and probably out of The Ashtray at this point.

I tried to put on my most victorious face and stance as I walked out of the restroom, putting my knife away. I nodded to the bartender and said I got my wallet back. He nodded back. I got outside and lit up a smoke. I was trying to figure out what had just happened. Why did I kiss him? Why did I like it? Didn't I like women? Of course I liked women! I spent so many nights alone just thinking about.. Wait.. Who did I think about? And where the hell did that map lead? I decided to meander back home and get some shut eye. Tomorrow, I'd take the car out and find this building.

That night, I didn't sleep a wink. I could still taste Savage's whiskey-flavored lips. I thought too much about it. Did I really prefer another guy's kiss to a girl's? What would it be like in bed? Would it hurt? ...In the good way? The good way?! There was a good way, I'd imagine. So, before I knew it, I noticed I'd managed to get myself a bit worked up. I reached under my bed and grabbed the lucky sock so I could rub one out.

Around eight AM, I dragged my excuse for a carcass out of bed and straight into the shower. Maybe that would do the trick. Perhaps that's all I needed to get my mind off things. Needless to say, it didn't. I stared into the mirror for what could easily have been an hour trying to understand what was going on. The only thing I got out of it was the desire to shave off the overgrown 5'o clock shadow I'd obtained over the last few days. As I slid my straight razor across my cheek, I was instantly reminded of Savage slicing his face as a cover up for our lov-... Yes, I did call it love. In my mind it was. But it wasn't. I had to keep telling myself it wasn't.

It was ten by the time I'd made it out to the 1939 Chevy that my parents bought me when I moved out. I had an unlit cigarette hanging from my lips as I started the engine. The Andrews Sisters were on the radio singing about how grand someone was by repeating Bei Mir Bist du Schon. I smiled as I raised my lighter to the end of the cigarette, humming along to the trumpet solo.

It took a bit of driving, but at long last, I arrived at the spot circled on the map. It was a rundown textile factory the looked as if the earth would swallow it up at any moment. As I got out of the car, I glanced up at the catwalks and balconies that circled the ominous black building. And there was that red trench coat that clung to the frame of Jude Savage. He threw a bottle down at me and yelled something about ripping out my intestines. I was clearly mistaken for someone else... I hoped. Then, he eventually recognized me as I screamed back a greeting. An apology followed, replacing the threats as he told me to come inside. Come inside. Like this was some quaint suburban home and he was greeting a party guest. If he'd asked for my coat and hat, I'd have been convinced. I grabbed a handkerchief out of my back pocket and wrapped it around the decrepit and rusting handle of the equally decrepit and rusting door. It opened and creaked with the sound of something screaming bloody murder. Some grease would fix that noise and a cigarette would fix my shattered nerves. I didn't have any grease, so I tended to my nerves with another Pall Mall. He stood at the top of some stairs near the, to put it loosely, front door. I got a good look around as he meandered down. Back it's it's heyday, this place must've been the pinnacle of manufacturing. But it's steam-driven engines had long since grown cold and the looming, monstrous cogs and gears stood still. If there was ever a place suitable for Jude Savage, this was it.

I was still in mid-thought as he strode up to me. His face was inches from mine. I could smell his pomade and the light scent of cherries on his breath.

"Glad you could make it."
"Nice place."
"Ever fucked in a factory?"
"Can't say I have."
"Neither have I. I spend my time alone."
"That must be... lonely."
"It is."
"So, why me?"
"Why you?"
"Yeah, I was just trying to buy some smokes."
"Your name is Draven Gotthardt. You're 21 years old. You've been living on your own for the past year in a flat off of 5th and Asylum. You smoke Pall Malls. Your drink is a Moscow Mule, unless it's beer, and in that case, it's Pabst Blue Ribbon."

I stood there, dumbfounded. How did he know everything about me? I was far from social. My job didn't involve the general public. I hadn't written any memoirs, at least that I knew of. But I had been seeing a shrink... I had to figure it out on my own. Use his tactics against him.

"How the hell?"
"I only exist in your mind. You created me as an escape from this arduous town, and your milquetoast life. I'm nobody."

I could only speak in noises. He started laughing.

"I really had you going there, huh? No, no. I'm not some alter-ego and you're not some screwball. I'm just good at what I do. Now, let's get down to why I brought you here."
He cracked his knuckles and tilted his head to the side like he wanted me to follow him. I didn't argue; the guy was good. But where he was leading me, I had not the faintest idea. In a crumbling factory, in the middle of nowhere. What should I have expected? My inquiries were answered as he lead me down a hall and to what was probably an office at one point. It was totally out of place here, with dark wood walls and lush carpeting. The furniture still had that smell of retail. There was a stereo in the corner, and the radio was on. As luck would have it, The Andrews Sisters were on again. This time with another hit, "You Oughta Be in Pictures."
I sat down on the brown leather couch and it sunk down just enough for comfort. Jude, facing me, climbed onto my lap and took off his trench coat, revealing a filling station t-shirt and a tattoo of a pinup girl on the inside of his right arm.

His lips met with mine as he slid the knot of my tie down and undid the first few buttons of my shirt. I felt my hands instinctively move down his sides and rest at his waist. Still not thinking I unbuckled his belt. He stopped kissing for a moment and looked down, smirking. Of course, he wouldn't let me have all the fun. With a bit of awkward moving around, he'd finally got my jacket and shirt off. His lips moved off of mine and down my neck towards my shoulder, where he bit softly. I could feel the brushing of his muttonchops against my bare skin. He decided my shoulder received enough attention and began kissing down my chest and to the waist of my twill slacks. He looked up with those big dark eyes and smirked at me as I slowly realized what was in store for me.

He slowly unzipped my pants and slid them down to my knees as he sat up and kissed me once more, gently biting my bottom lip as he pulled back. I knew by that point, I was harder than I'd ever been in my life. He stood up and dropped his pants and straddled my lap. He wasn't wearing anything under his pants, but thank God I was. Otherwise, I would've felt his skin against my crotch and came instantly. With some clever movements, the barrier of my boxer-shorts was removed and he was positioned right above my cock, which was now flowing with precum. He did that smirk that people do when they're saying, "Trust me." But this moment was silent except for the pounding of our hearts and the soft whisper of our breathing. He began lowering himself on to me. I looked him into the eyes, and kissed him deeply as I gently thrusted my hips. After this, my life would never be the same. A wise man once said, "Some men get a kick out of cocaine, but if I tried even one sniff, it would bore me terrifically too." I was absolutely sure that applied to the feeling that I experienced that day.

It wasn't long before I felt the familiar tingle of orgasm building up. I cooed into his ear, warning him, but instead of moving himself off me, he tightened up and let out a soft purr. This pushed me over the edge, my moan had grown to practically a scream of pleasure at that point as I exploded deep inside of him. We kissed again as I began stroking Jude off. I felt I owed it to him. It wasn't long before he shot his load directly onto my chest. He looked down, moving back from the kiss and ran his fingertips through the dripping spot on my chest. He licked some off, moaning softly and scooped some more up bringing it to my lips. I didn't know what to do. I had no idea what that stuff tasted like, having used a good number of socks to do that job for me. I took a deep breath and wrapped my lips around his fingers, licking it off. I had the same response, a low quiet moan. We'd both managed to clean my chest off in no time. It was then I caught a glimpse of the time. I was supposed to have been at work 3 hours ago. I was fucked. Figuratively speaking.

I hadn't been the best employee down at Oxley & Lestrade Trading Co., nor had I been the most timely. Last time I was late, it was by an hour. Prof. Florin Oxley, one of the proprietors of the fine furniture emporium, warned me that next time I was late, I'd get the walking papers. Needless to say, I was getting those papers today. I told Jude of my predicament, and he told me he should probably be off too. He had an important business meeting shortly, which I was sure meant that there were places to go and people to rob. I nodded and grabbed my shirt, pulling it back on over my head.

"Draven?"
"Yeah?"
"Well.. I'm not too good at this, but.. well.. will you be my guy?"

I couldn't help but smile. After all, this bit of sensitivity and emotion was coming from, perhaps, the only menace this city has seen since... Well, has ever seen. I walked over to him and kissed him softly, resting my hand on his cheek.

"I was afraid you'd never ask."

His cheeks turned the same crimson as his trench coat as we left the back room and headed to my car. He wanted to see me again before the week was out. I agreed, naturally. He said he'd stop by, now that I was unemployed. I thanked him, and he didn't accept it. Said he should be thanking me. I shook my head and agreed to disagree.

"Draven.. I... I love you.."

I was downright speechless. How did he feel the same that I did? I wasn't alone any more.

"I love you, Jude."

As I started the car and drove off, I felt tears building up. This was far from normal. I didn't cry. Period. I hadn't cried since 1930. I put a cigarette between my lips and lit it, hopefully this would hold it back, at least until I got to the apartment.