Free Lights Out by Jason Starr Page A

for a few seconds the only noise was the faint sound of Al screaming at the TV downstairs. Then the next song came on.
    ‘Please,’ Christina said.
    Ryan didn’t budge.
    ‘Pretty please. With sugar on top . . . and cherries . . . and pickles . . . and anchovies . . . and peanut butter . . . and broccoli. . .’
    Ryan finally turned around, smiling. Christina came over to him and kissed him softly on the lips.
    ‘I love you so much,’ she said, ‘and I can’t wait till we can be together all the time.’
    ‘If you really love me,’ Ryan said, ‘will you turn this shit off?’
    Christina laughed, then went over to her dresser and picked up a hairbrush. She held it up to her mouth like a mike and started singing along.
    ‘Mercy, mercy,’ Ryan said, playfully trying to grab the brush.
    Christina sang some more. Laughing, Ryan finally grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward him. He kissed her a few times, running his fingers through her slightly damp hair. He pulled back and said, ‘I’m the one who should be sorry, taking everything out on you. It’s just all this Jake-coming-home shit - it’s driving me crazy.’
    ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’
    ‘Today at work nobody would shut up about it. And all the guys - they want to bring in crap for Jake to autograph.’
    ‘Dr Hoffman wants me to get him an autographed bat. And my cousin Brenda called last night - her daughter wants a signed picture of Jake to bring into show-and-tell.’
    ‘You know what’s gonna be great?’ Ryan said. ‘A few days from now we’ll be able to walk around, go to the supermarket or the deli or wherever, and we won’t have to hear his name every two seconds.’
    Glancing toward the mirror, Christina said, ‘You messed up my lipstick.’
    Ryan pulled her back toward him and started kissing her again, harder, and then he moved his right hund swiftly down along her stomach, then under her jeans.
    ‘Down, boy,’ Christina whispered.
    ‘Come on,’ Ryan said, ‘just this one time.’
    ‘We shouldn’t.’
    ‘Please.’
    Christina was moaning, breathing faster. Then she said, ‘You promise you won’t make any noise?’
    Ryan guided her back down toward the bed and unzipped her jeans. As she pulled them, and then her panties down, he took his sneakers off quickly, then his jeans and boxers. Christina lay on the bed with her legs apart, waiting for him. Ryan knelt down over her, suddenly feeling too good. He forced himself to think about a big pile of shit, his father’s ear hair, rats crawling through sewers, Osama bin Laden, roadkill, but it was hopeless. He ejaculated in several weak spurts onto the bedspread.
    ‘Damn it.’
    ‘It’s okay.’
    ‘Fuck. It’s just that we were trying to do it so fast and—’
    ‘Don’t worry about it.’
    ‘Shit.’
    ‘Stop it.’ Christina moved a few strands of hair away from Ryan’s eyes. ‘We would’ve had to be too quiet anyway.’
    ‘We always have to be fuckin’ quiet.’
    Christina kissed Ryan; then he started going down on her. Christina leaned back, letting Ryan go on for several seconds, and then she said, ‘You don’t have to do that.’
    Ryan looked up at her and said, ‘I want to.’
    He started again, trying his hardest to get her off.
    Christina shifted back away and said, ‘We should really just get going.’
    ‘You sure?’
    ‘I can’t now anyway.’
    ‘I’m really sorry, Chrissy. I promise later I’ll be able to—’
    ‘It’s okay - really. Just hand me a tissue, will you?’
    When Ryan and Christina went downstairs, Al was still gripped, watching the racing channel.
    ‘Bye, Daddy.’
    Distracted, sneering at the TV, Al didn’t answer for a few seconds. Then he said, ‘What?’
    ‘Ryan’s taking me over to Jake’s.’
    ‘Oh, right,’ Al said, ‘the party for him.’
    ‘Yeah, you should go. Ryan’s mother made her great lasagna, and there’s gonna be other great food and music and—’
    ‘Can’t make it,’ Al said, his gaze