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Trevor shrugged。 〃I wasn't expecting pany。〃
Zach started laughing。 He couldn't help it。 This guy was so fucked up 。 。 。 but smart； and despite his weird asexuality； entirely too beautiful。 Trevor stared at him for a moment； then tentatively joined in。
They grinned at each other in ganja…swirled camaraderie。 Suddenly Zach found himself wondering again if it mightn't be possible after all to love someone and make love with them too。 Something about such a spontaneous sweet smile on a face that didn't smile too often made him wonder why he had always denied himself the physical pleasure of a person he truly cared for。 Wouldn't it be fun to see someone…all right then； someone like Trevor… smile that way just because Zach knew how to make him feel good？ Maybe even more fun than getting sucked off by a cute； all…but…anonymous stranger in the back room of a convenience store in a state he might never see again？
Probably not。 Probably it would end in cutting words and tears； pain and blame and regret； maybe even blood。 Those were the risks of such a relationship； almost guaranteed。
But where along the line had he decided that he could not take those particular risks； while cheerfully taking… indeed； seeking out…so many others？
Trevor was watching him closely。 He looked as if he wanted to say What are you thinking？ but didn't。 Zach was glad。 He'd always hated that question； it seemed people only asked it of you when you were thinking about something you didn't want to share。
Instead； very hesitantly； Trevor asked； 〃Have we met before？ Do I know you？〃 He frowned as if that weren't precisely the question he wanted to ask； but he could not find the words for the right one。
Zach shook his head。 〃I don't think so。 But 。 。 。〃
〃It feels like we have；〃 Trevor finished for him。
Zach snuffed the half…burnt joint and put it back hi his pocket。 They sat in silence for a few minutes。 Neither wanted to be the first to say too much； to take this strange new notion too far。 Zach mused on how irretrievable words were in the real world。 In many ways he preferred the simplicity of the puter universe； where you could revise and delete things at will； where you acted and the system could only react in certain ways。
But there you ran up against an eventual wall of predictability。 Here the slightest shift in semantics could make a situation run wild； and that appealed to him too。
The rain had nearly stopped。 Now it began to e down harder again； though they were still protected beneath the canopy of branches and vines。 The sky rumbled with nascent thunder； then erupted。 All at once it was pouring。
Zach saw a chance to defuse the awkwardness。 He caught Trevor's arm and pulled him up； noticing how Trevor's flesh seemed to simultaneously cleave to and cringe from his touch。 〃e on！〃 he urged。
〃Where？〃
〃Don't you want a shower？ This is our chance！〃
〃Out here？〃
〃Sure； why not？ Nobody can see us from the road。〃 Zach ducked out from under the curtain of willow fronds and ran to a clear patch in the yard。 He kicked his sneakers off； pulled his shirt over his head； stuck his glasses in his pocket； and started unbuttoning his pants。 Trevor followed； looking doubtful。 〃Are you going to get naked？〃
Zach undid the last button and let his cutoffs fall。 He wasn't wearing any underwear。 Trevor raised his eyebrows； then shrugged； unbuckled his jeans； and pushed them down over his skinny hips。 If he'd grown up in an orphanage； male nudity was probably no big deal to him。
The rain sluiced over their bodies； washing away the grime of the road and the old crumbling house。 Trevor was only a wet blur several feet away； Zach could barely see him flinging his arms about as if dancing or performing some wild invocation。
Zach raised his face to the downpour and let it fill the tired hollows of his eyes； wash the taste of smoke from his lips。 He was not aware that he was grinning like a fool until he felt rain trickling between his teeth； over his tongue； and down his throat in a little silver river。
Chapter Eleven
Kinsey was mopping up the last of the water as the early evening barflies began to drift in。 Terry was closing up shop at the Whirling Disc and wishing Steve Finn were in town。 The new guy had fucked up an invoice and ordered twenty copies of Louie's Limbo Lounge； an obscure album of exquisitely bad strip…club music； instead of the two Terry had meant to special…order。 Now they could hear such classics as 〃Torture Rock；〃 〃Beaver Shot；〃 and the amazing 〃Hooty Sapper…ticker〃 by Barbara & the Boys whenever they so desired。
Terry started to call Poindexter's in Durham to see if they wanted any； but decided fuck it and went instead to buy his girl a beer。 A gaudy sunset bathed the downtown in red and purple light； and the slowly darkening streets glistened with the rain that had fallen all afternoon。
One by one the streetlights flickered on。 Terry remembered a summer two or three years ago when there had been a plague of Luna moths。 The huge insects beat against windows and swarmed around streetlights； their broad fragile wings catching the light and making it shift strangely； their color like nothing else in nature…the palest silver…green； the color of ectoplasm or the glow of radiation。 You could find drifts of them tattered and dead in the gutter； their fat furred bodies shriveled to husks。
Soon a flock of bats descended upon the town； roosting in the treetops and church bell towers by day； swooping out at night to catch the Luna moths in their tiny razored jaws。 If the show at the Sacred Yew was boring； the kids would congregate on the street and watch the shadowplay of leathery and iridescent wings； strain to hear the high needling squeal of the bats over the churn of guitars and percussion from the club。 One night Ghost had mused aloud that to the bats； the moths' blood must taste like creme de menthe。
Terry wondered what had bee of the new kids。 He thought Zach might have just hit the other side of town and kept driving； that boy looked like he might have someplace to be in a hurry。 And he guessed Trevor was still out at the murder house。 Hell of a thing； Bobby McGee's son ing back after all these years。
Well； Kinsey would know the lowdown。 Terry hastened his step toward the Yew； toward friends and music and the taste of a cold beer in his favorite bar on a summer's evening。
By ten o'clock Terry had had five cold beers and had forgotten all about Zach。 But Zach had not hit the other side of town； had not even returned to his car except to check the locks and pull it around to the side of the house。 He had found a place he liked； and he had every intention of setting up camp here for a few days unless Trevor objected。 But he didn't think Trevor would。
When they came in from the rainstorm； Trevor excused himself to put on dry clothes and disappeared down the hall。 Zach followed a few minutes later and found him sprawled on a bare mattress in one of the back bedrooms。 Naked and almost painfully thin； long hair spread out around his head like a corona； he was already deeply asleep。
Zach watched him for several moments but could not disturb him。 Trevor had spent the last three nights sleeping on a Greyhound bus； a couch； and a drawing table； he deserved some bed rest。 Zach got one of Kinsey's blankets and covered him。 As he did so he saw gooseflesh shivering across Trevor's chest； water droplets still caught in the cup of his navel and the damp tangle of his pubic hair。 He imagined the salty taste those droplets would have if he were to bend down and lick them away。
Now you want to molest him in his sleep。 It was Eddy's voice； out of nowhere。 Christ； Zach； why don't you just buy a blow…up love doll on Bourbon Street and be done with it？
Fuck you； Eddy。
As he turned away from the bed he noticed drawings tacked to the walls。 Monsters and fanciful houses； unfamiliar landscapes。 And faces； all kinds of faces。 A child's drawings…but a child with obvious talent； with an eye for line and proportion； with an untrammeled imagination。 This was Trevor's own room。
Zach left Trevor to sleep and started exploring the house。 At the end of the hall was the bathroom where Bobby had died。 There was no window in this room； and Zach did not think to try the switch。 He stood on the threshold staring into the unlit chamber； saw porcelain gleaming dully beneath layers of dirt and cobweb。 The shower curtain rod was bent； almost buckled。 Zach wondered if Trevor had seen that yet。
Something about the bathroom's geometry seemed wrong； as if the angle at which walls met ceiling were slightly skewed。 It made Zach feel dizzy； almost nauseated。 He turned away and went into the room across the hall； which was the studio。 He saw Trevor's sketchbook lying open on the drawing table and slowly flipped through the pages。 The drawings were very good。 Zach had read one issue of Birdland； and he thought Trevor's style was already technically better than Bobby's。 The lines were surer； the faces finer and more subtle； with layer upon layer of nuance lurking in the expressions he captured。
But Bobby's work had always had a certain fract