Paradise Blvd. Year One

Chapter Six

Thursday

"I figured it out. I don't need self defence classes or protection from Graves," said Forest.

"You need to stop selling?" Troye asked.

Esau chuckled. "I will, soon. I promise, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm fucking telepathic, man. I can get into the Baxter Boys' heads."

"And destroy them from inside out?"

"Nah. I can predict their moves and block them or dodge them," Forest stated. "At first, when I discovered this, I thought it was the drugs, man. Maybe it is, who knows?"

"If it was, don't you think I'd have telepathy too?" Troye asked.

Forest nodded. "Good point. What I'm sayin' is I thought I was trippin' all the time. Then I realised if I focused, I could tell who was thinking what. Pushing became easier after that. I could tell what anybody wanted. Fuck! I wish I figured this out earlier - before I asked Graves for protection - and now I'm dealing cocaine."

"You're what?" Troye exclaimed.

Forest stood up from the side of the bed. "Your boyfriend's here. I'm gonna get in the other room."

Troye nodded. "This is gonna work. We're gonna figure out who Esau Collins really is even though this would be probably illegal if it was popular."

"Stop talking."

Esau knocked once on the door before Troye opened it for him. Troye looked at Esau and not only did he look dangerous, he felt dangerous now too. Troye wasn't afraid, though - it took common sense for a person to experience reasonable fear and Troye was anything but that. "We got disturbed yesterday."

Esau frowned. "We did?"

"Yeah, when my friends arrived? Let's get something to drink before we get to any of that."

"Sure." Esau followed Troye into the kitchen.

They were drinking cola in a 70's style conversation pit when Esau shifted over to Troye and put his can down. "You say we got disturbed yesterday?" The former brushed his hand through the latter's hair.

"You need to get out of there, Troye!" came Forest's voice in Troye's head. "I know what you wanna do, don't do it. He's not just conflicted, he's also unhinged. If he doesn't like the way this feels, he might snap. Troye. Please..."

Troye ignored Forest's warnings and pulled Esau in for a kiss. They hadn't locked lips for too long when Esau pushed Troye away. "I... No!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Troye frowned.

"No!" Esau jumped out of the conversation pit and Troye followed him. Troye was about to take Esau's hand, but Esau turned around and hooked the side of Troye's head, dropping him back into the pit. "No!" He jumped onto him and started punching him. A right hook in the face, over and over and over again. Esau was so consumed with rage - rage against himself, rage against Troye, rage against his feelings, rage against the society he grew up in - that he hadn't noticed that Troye was dead silent the entire time.

The screams would've meant something. That's why punching a person was better than punching a wall. You got nothing from punching a wall. You got audible pain from punching a person. The screams, the cries. Troye gave him nothing. His heart skipped a beat at first. He thought he'd killed him. When he got his head straight, he noticed that Troye was panting heavily. There were no bruises or wounds on Troye's face, but Esau's hand stung. "What?"