CHAPTER ONE
No Place for Girls
Thumper kept his apartment very warm, which was uncomfortable for Hernan. He was used to his own place and its powerful air conditioner that he kept running all summer and most of the spring and autumn. He just preferred it cold.
But he could hardly complain now. This wasn't his home. Hernan -- o r Harle y , as he was going by more or less exclusively now -- felt like he'd never be able to sleep here. It was better than prison, so he was glad to be here, but still, Harley longed for his mother.
He couldn't think too much about her though. Everyone, including Thumper, thought she was dead. Harley had told everyone he was an orphan so nobody could ever get to him by tracking her down. He could still go to her and hide out there if he needed to.
But he didn't want to. Harley had been slinging rock since high school, and now he was on the run. He wasn't technically a fugitive, but there was a warrant out for him -- it was a material witness warrant. Harley could end up in prison if he refused to testify about certain events he had witnessed, and he had no intention of testifying.
So here he was, living with Wendell "Thumper" White, a former boxer, long-time ex-con and current gangbanger. Thumper was thirty years older than Harley, who felt like a skinny weakling in his presence, though he tried to hide those feelings the best he could.
At least he had a bed to sleep on. Harley lay atop his sheets, sweat beading on his flesh. He wondered how long it would be before he got laid again -- Thumper said he shouldn't leave the apartment at all, for any reason, and Thumper, judging from his reputation, was not likely to bring any girls back for Harley.
The door to his bedroom slowly swayed upon with a loud creak. Thumper stood there in the darkened doorway. He was not a very tall man, but he had that thick-bodied ex-boxer's frame.
"Hey, yo, you awake?" Thumper asked, but his deep, commanding tone and his striding towards the bed suggested he already knew the answer, or didn't care.
"Yeah," Harley said, sitting up.
Thumper stood over Harley's body on the bed. He smiled and sat down on the edge, resting one hand on Harley's smooth chest. He caressed the skin there, and Harley's heart burst into overdrive. What was happening now?
"You feelin' okay?"
"Uh, yeah," Harley said. That wasn't true, of course, he had been anxious in general before Thumper came in his room, and now Harley felt vulnerable because of that specifically. So he definitely did not feel safe right now.
"That's good. I'll keep you safe, Hernan," he said. "Long as you live here wit' me, I keep you safe."
"I'm s'posed to go b y Harle y all the time now. Samson said not to use my real name-"
"Hush," Thumper said. "What else did Samson tell you?"
"Uh... I mean... he said to keep my mouth shut and shit."
"Yeah. Unless'n I tell you to open it."
"He said to stay here, with you. He said not to leave your apartment," Harley said.
"That's right. Good," he said. He licked his lips as one of his hands began caressing Harley's chest.
"He, uh, said not to call my girlfriend-"
"You got a girlfriend?"
Harley nodded. He felt like kind of an idiot for it -- hardcore thugs like him had multiple bitches, not one serious girlfriend. He hadn't even really loved her though, which was the only thing that might have made a serious-girlfriend reasonable. He was glad to have an excuse to be rid of her.
"This ain't no place for girls," Thumper said. "You gonna be celibate?"
"What's that?"
"It means you don't have sex at all."
"I dunno, I guess so. I was hopin', y'know... Maybe I'd get a whore eventually."
"Nah," Thumper said. "Whores always talk." Then he moved quickly, laying on his side on the edge of the bed. He kept his arm on Harley's body as he did. "Whores always talk, Hernan. That's a real handsome name. I like it. I'm gonna keep calling you that at night, okay?"
"Just at
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