Barbadian LGBTQ+ Short Story II, Part I
- boycemartin
- Nov 19, 2018
- 8 min read
Updated: Aug 6, 2022
This is one of my entries for Barbados’s NIFCA (National Independence Festival of Creative Arts) this year, (which would also to appear in this collection of short stories).
Kendrick goes Missing
Troy was alone when the car pulled up. He didn’t look up from finishing his WhatsApp message.
“Stop ‘poo sharking’ and get in!” The driver’s voice had in a smile.
“You ain’t supposed to be at work?” Troy asked, still thumbing his phone.
“Today is Thursday!” Kendrick winked and stuck his tongue out to the side.
“‘Thursday’? ‘Thursday’ nuh…” Troy put away his phone and got in. You bald brute!
“So, you bussing it?” Kendrick asked, after pulling onto the road.
“Sheraton to watch a film with a friend.”
“And this ‘friend’ ain’ got no name?” Kendrick did not look over at him or smile.
“You working for Puddin’ an’ Souse?” Troy examined the whites of Kendrick’s eyes which had the flecks of a bird egg.
Kendrick laughed. No, he was not employed by that newspaper gossip column. “That mean I can’t tempt you with a drive down East Coast then?”
“What it is you do that you trying to take me to my spot?”
“Sorry boah! I can’t be nice to you now?” Kendrick asked, braking suddenly to still drop in a pothole.
At the roundabout, Troy pointed as they turned left.
“I know Sheraton is that way. I got a surprise for you first.”
Troy’s hands started to perspire. The last time Kendrick had a surprise for him, he’d stopped in front of a padlocked gate covered in vines, gotten out, pulled it wide enough apart for him to fit through, and they’d sat atop a reservoir. There they’d started out drinking beers and throwing away conversation.
A quick right turn and a left had brought them off the bustling highway, out of its lava flow of lights. They pulled into a parking lot which, although empty, received the requisite pause to choose two yellow lines between which to slowly pull in, then reverse out of, to get it straight the second time.
The engine stopped roaring and started clicking as it cooled. Troy twisted his body to face Kendrick. Kendrick was dark in a way that made his skin seem flawless although he had two indentations above an eyebrow, left by chicken pox, and another scar running the length of one cheek. His body didn’t appear to be much in these ill-fitting clothes, but Troy had seen him without his shirt and knew he looked like salvation.
Outside, the full moon had laid its light down, reminding Troy of the snow he had left in The States. Everything was still, as if held in place by it.
Nothing surprised Troy anymore, plus his birthday was coming up.
How would Kendrick do it? Would he lean over to get something from the glove compartment? Then turn and kiss Troy with them fat lips?
Kendrick dropped his forearms on the staring wheel, grasping it tightly. You could hear Troy’s phone vibrating in his pocket. Looking over at him, Kendrick felt for the door handle and got out.
Troy checked his phone and put it back. Dearheart…you’re not the first to be overwhelmed by their inexplicably all-consuming infatuation for my wiles. Troy laughed to himself. He couldn’t wait to tell Cleo. Many details to remember…but Cleo was only ever interested in the ‘doggie’. Size a given, to know its colour, smell and venous disposition pleased her no end.
Around to the trunk of the car, Troy followed him until his neck had turned to the point of trust. He hoped Kendrick wasn’t planning to do nothing foolish like propose: open he door, down on one knee, flash mob bursting into a medley of folksongs.
∇
The door flew open on Troy’s side and…a front kick to his face.
“SURPRISE!”
The kick knocked his head back and everything went dark for an instant. Another shoe sole in his mouth before he could get out a sound. What the…?! Troy planted his hand on the horn, falling back against the door on the driver’s side, and, five kicks for the price of one!
A Styrofoam container get ‘skin’ upside down, emptying food ends by the car pedals.
“Ras..!” Troy choked on the word.
“Ra…sole?!…Ra…sole?!” Each syllable of the curse word punctuated with a cuff from Kendrick. He grabbed Troy’s legs to drag him out the door.
The fistful of macaroni pie was aimed at Kendrick’s eyes but a kick to Troy’s side cracked a rib. Troy swung onto his back in pain, clawing at the seat, he managed to grasp the staring wheel. Two yanks had him free though, and his head, falling from the passenger seat, hit metal on its way out to join the rest of him.
From under the mat, an empty beer bottle. Troy swung it.
Kendrick slammed the door on him. Bottle went flying. The pain from his rib!
Lying on his back, dragged from the car, he wouldn’t remember how he got to his feet, but as soon as he was up, the bottle hit him in his head. It did not break. The gash went from white to red and by the time he sprang on Kendrick, knocking him to the ground in a flurry of cuffs, blood was stinging his eye, blinding him as he got up and ran. Glass smashed in front of him, but he did not look behind.
∇
Troy had made it out of the parking lot and gotten scratched up climbing over a fence. He skated down a small embankment when….
“Eeeeeerks! I hit the breaks! And Sharon holler out, ‘Oh Lord Jesus! You going kill me?!’” said ‘Nasty’, “And I tell she, ‘What I tell you about calling me you Lord Jesus?!’”
“And the man you said was crossing the…?”
“Patience, boss.” Nasty placed a flat hand on the reporter’s chest. “Man in de middle of the road, soak in blood!”
“And he say, ‘Sharon, that not normal!’” Nasty’s child mother, Sharon.
“The man limp’ up to my window and look right in the camera.” Nasty patted his pants pockets.
“And BRUGGUHDOWN! We get hit from behind!” said Sharon.
“Fly forward and land in the car in front!” Nasty cut in. “Boss, I catch everything on my new Universe SX 3, 056.”
“Not sure if our viewers at home are getting this, but it seems like the car that hit them reverses…” The reporter adjusted the angle of the phone for the camera.
“The fellow tear and went so!” Nasty said, pointing towards the gas station.
“And the car up on the sidewalk, on behind he!” Sharon snapped her fingers, whipping an invisible racehorse.
“This live?” A woman in big-sized curlers appeared, “God blind you! Charmine Lintonia McCollin! I want the keys to my rashole hou…”
The reporter managed to pry her off the microphone.
“Shock and distress from the events earlier tonight at Ram gas station. Back to you in the studio.”
∇
“BULLERS! Oh Lord! Save me from the BULLEEEEEEERS!”
“Laquisha! How you know the man is a buller?!” Trevor angled his hand at her. “He bull’ you?”
“No! He bull’ you father!” Laquisha held her expression, eyes wider than when she see a sale sign at Wild Pair Shoe.
“What I was supposed to do?” Trevor returned to what she was saying. “Push he outside and lock the door?”
“No, HP! You was supposed to let he bloody up my floor ‘cause you is the body going clean it,” she said, lip pull up at the side to show her incisors.
“He is a psycho….” Troy.
“Sweetie! You good? I thought you was past your expiration date,” said Laquisha, dabbing her neck with a washcloth. “Look! Your friend again!”
“This is the third time,” said one of two gas attendants who were regretting their decision to head for the gas station’s automart when Kendrick first showed up.
Kendrick’s car circled at the speed of a large shark in an aquarium.
Two hundred and fifty pounds was the weight of the sound of Laquisha’s step down from the cash register. She waddled behind the shelves to where Troy was out of sight and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Boyfriend…we looking at a lover’s quarrel?” she whispered…the way she does whisper.
Troy unhooked her from his shoulder by half-standing. “The man is a psycho then…” Troy’s eyes focused on nothing as he shook his head.
“Listen to me! Part-time bullers or not, my shift over in 30 minutes and if the policemen ain’t here by then, I calling Silver Hill for backup!” Laquisha announced.
“Alright, alright! Meanwhile…you tell them where to come right?” Trevor helped Troy to sit again.
“No. I ain’t got no sense.”
“Listen! I leaving in here!” said gas attendant one.
“I with you. It ain’t we this person want, right?” responded gas attendant two.
“No, wait! What is this now?” Laquisha had learned to be always aware of her surroundings from watching Top Chef.
Kendrick’s car stopped. He got out, walked to the door and tugged at it. The glass reverberated against the deadbolt.
“HP! When you going wave you baton?!” Laquisha asked, using her little girl voice.
“When you start calling me by my name!” said Trevor, “You do something! You got so much mouth!”
“Oh lord! Harry Potter! He gone for the gas pump!” Laquisha covered her nose with her washcloth.
Kendrick had the nozzle and was pulling its hose, striding towards them until it had no more to give and yanked itself out his hand.
“I like my fried chicken extra-crispy!” Kendrick, half-way between the pumps and the gas station minimart, hose in hand again, took aim and fired.
∇
Once, looking into the toilet bowl, Troy’s pee was also pink. That time, the Google results had come back positive for the ingestion of beets. Troy tried to remember the lead up to the attack. What had he said? He could not remember… Wasn’t this a symptom of a concussion? The cell phone message? No, that was after… How had he not seen this coming? How had he come so close to going to the East Coast with this madman?
Troy’s hands trembled as he wet his face. He examined the gash at the top of his head. It would probably need stitches. He rubbed the dried blood where it didn’t tug at the wound. The blood dissolved, forming pink puddles around the sink he dashed away with water from cupped hands.
His groin started vibrating.
Shoot! Cleo! Two missed calls and messages asking, with exclamation marks, where he was and finally saying she was going in to see the movie.
Troy typed: “Don’t freak out…but I need to get horse spittle.” Really autocorrect?!
He put his finger on the microphone symbol and the phone went dead. The phone went on the toilet as he laughed to vex the Devil because things couldn’t get any worse.
Bram! Bram! Bram! Banging on the bathroom door. Kendrick get in!
“Come out! Troy open the door!”
Troy inhaled deeply and held his breath back as it came out through pursed lips…. It was the security guard, Trevor.
∇
Trevor and Troy entered to hear Laquisha say, “Oh shite! He levelling up?!” She grabbed her fake-gem encrusted phone which had started to chant Split in di Middle by Freezy. “That is Neil! Them here!”
Kendrick had driven by a few times since realizing they’d switched off the gas pumps. He stopped and flung the vehicle around to face the automart. Lights flicked to bright. Engine revving.
Laquisha instinctively reached in her handbag for her semiautomatic assault rifle but slapped her forehead. She had left it at home in the fridge.
The tires peeled off with a loud screech, burning rubber. Then glass crashing, stands toppling, customers skydiving; Shirley biscuits, corn curls, tamarind balls and a brassier flying!
Kendrick jumped out. “Which part he is?!” he asked, machete waiting patiently by his side.
“SWEETIE! MY MEAT PATTY HEAT UP YET?!” Laquisha responded, staring at Kendrick but talking to the girl in the kitchen.
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