R.C.
THE SMELL OF tobacco and hard liquor filled the atmosphere as loud jazz music hummed in the air. The tables were flooded row from row with vibrant personalities as couples danced and others lounged around, whisky in hand. It was late at night, probably around midnight, yet the party was still as vibrant as ever.
I fished through my pockets for my lucky red lighter. Why was it lucky? I didn't really know, but despite not knowing I abided by the thought that it was lucky anyways. I lazily put a cigarette between my lips as I caved into my cravings.
My eyes scanned through the small tightly filled bar. I didn't really want to be there in all honesty, but it was good for publicity. And we desperately needed publicity if we wanted to go anywhere with our career. I was thrown into a quartet, we called ourselves The Railroads. Apparently it was an allegory for 'The Underground Railroad'. Trust me, it wasn't my idea.
A clumsy figure plopped down in the empty seat beside me. I lost the fight with myself to withhold an eye roll. I couldn't understand why he kept drinking if he knew he couldn't handle it. He absolutely reeked of alcohol, sweat and sex. I could smell the liquor on his breath from a good distance away, it made me frown. I don't know why I expected so much of him, all he kept on doing was disappointing me.
Jordan grinned at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder giddily. His lips hovered over my ear, I felt his hot breath fanning my skin.
"R.C... baby, let me tell you a secret.." he whispered, a carnal undertone hidden in the waves of his voice. I sighed, brushing him off as gently as I possibly could, not wanting to cause an accident. He whined childishly as he began tugging on the sleeves of my coat. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. That was always what got me. His soft honey stirred doe eyes that caused my knees to go weak, it entranced me, clouding over all my good judgement.
I kicked myself internally. I wasn't going to let this happen again.
Not while I was still sober.
I downed a glass of whisky, trying my best to ignore the burning as it raced down my throat. I took a couple more drinks, trying to get as tipsy as possible so I wouldn't regret it until morning.
Everything else happened in a blur, but it was the same old routine as usual. The two of us departed from the bar, giggling like little girls until we got to the nearest hotel.
Clothes were ripped and thrown across the wooden floor of the musty hotel room, radios were turned up to drown out the grunts, groans and moans that escaped our lips. We rode the wave of ecstasy and euphoria until we were knocked out and couldn't muster up the strength to continue. Limp and meaningless 'I love you's' were tossed around in the air, but even in our intoxication we could tell that the 'I love you's' were only for tonight. By morning one of us would wake up confused and sore, in an empty bed.
It ended up being me.. again.
I can't say I was surprised. This was typical Jordan behaviour. However, I expected better from myself. This back and forth of hidden lust between Jordan and I was tiring and it drove me mad. All I wanted was to love and be loved, without the shame and guilt hanging over my head at all times. I never expected the innocent kisses at night when we were children to turn into silenced sex in the dark, ending up with me heartbroken and alone.
I mentally prepared myself for the cold shoulders I knew I would receive once the two of us were in the same room.
Technically, to society who I am is unnatural. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to give a damn. I understood that this was who I am, this was what I liked, what God made me to be. But Jordan, Jordan was ashamed. He cowered under the pressure that society had put on him, not only as a black man, but as a queer. He was spiralling downwards into an endless pit of loneliness and self hate, and he was dragging me down with him.
