Jail's Bait: Time Served (Book 5)

Rah-Rah sat in Marcus’s visitor’s chair, waiting for the man to come back to his room.  As luck would have it, when he returned to the asylum last night Marcus was already asleep, and by the time Rah-Rah woke up this morning he discovered that the former NBA star was already on a round of sessions which would take hours to complete.  Being somewhat of a patient man Rah-Rah took it in stride; he would simply wait in Marcus’s room until the guy finally showed up.  And just as soon as Rah-Rah decided to get up from the chair and pace again…

“What are you doing in here…?” A familiar voice asked.  Rah-Rah jerked his head around.

Marcus was standing in the room, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.  “What are you doing in my room?”

“Waiting for you.”  He got up and crossed over to Marcus.  “I’m back,” he said then with a smile, holding out his arms.

Marcus studied the gesture.  “I can see that,” he replied clinically, stepping around Rah-Rah’s outstretched arms and going over to his bed, to sit down and stare out of the window.

Rah-Rah lowered his arms.  Okay, this is going well, he thought to himself.  Out loud he turned to regard Marcus again, ready to try again.  “Hey, listen, I’ve got something to tell you…!”

Marcus continued to stare out of the window.  “Did you do what you needed to do...?”

“Yeah,” Rah-Rah nodded; “that’s what I wanna tell you.”

“So… what do you wanna say,” Marcus asked then flatly, folding his arms, still faced towards the window.  “…‘Goodbye’, right...?”

“Nope,” Rah-Rah said, coming over to the bed and sitting down next to Marcus.  “I want to say that I’m free now… free to let you in.”

Marcus froze.  “What did you just say...?” he asked, turning towards Rah-Rah.

“I said,” Rah-Rah replied, leaning towards Marcus, “that I wanna let you in.  There’s a place, dead-center in the middle of my heart… and it’s yours, if you want it.”

Marcus looked startled.  “You-you’re not here to bounce on me...?” he asked in a small voice.

Rah-Rah responded by leaning in and kissing Marcus full on the lips, and then wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.  Marcus surrendered to Rah-Rah, letting the man’s tongue sweetly attack the inside his mouth.

Marcus's pink lips were just as soft, just as hot as Rah-Rah remembered; his dick strained against his boxers, begging for attention as they began to meld into a cocoon of hot black man-flesh….

But Rah-Rah broke the kiss off then; there wasn’t time.  Marcus looked up at Rah-Rah, startled.  “What happened,” he asked, wiping off his mouth.

Rah-Rah stood to his feet.  “I gotta go… right now.”

Marcus hesitated, a stunned look on his face.  Then before Rah-Rah could say anything further Marcus jumped up from the bed and shoved Rah-Rah with force.

Rah-Rah flew across the open space and landed with a whomp! against the nearby wall.  “What the fuck…?” he spluttered, clumsily getting to his feet.

“Are you kidding me...?” Marcus yelled at Rah-Rah, incensed.

“What did I do now,” Rah-Rah replied loudly, straightening up and staring at Marcus with confusion.

“You JUST lied to me again,” Marcus continued yelling.  “You said you wouldn’t bounce on me, and here you go again, running off...!” he added with a flourish of his arms.

It took a second for Rah-Rah to realize what he meant.  “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume that you believe that I purposely came all the way back to a place I don’t belong in anymore, to retrieve my toothbrush and slippers (because I OBVIOUSLY couldn’t carry that with me in the first place), and meanwhile, decide just for the HELL of it to come sit in your room, for the simple joy of jerking you around...?” he asked Marcus incredulously.

Marcus stopped in his tracks.  “I want to believe you-” and then he fell silent, sitting back on the bed with a flop.

Rah-Rah hesitated, and then came to sit down next to him.  He reached over to gently take Marcus's hand.  Rah-Rah looked deep into his eyes.  “Talk to me,” he said simply.

Marcus looked at Rah-Rah, tears in his eyes.  “When I was at my peak, I was involved with another NBA All-Star,” he began.  “It was the first time I was ever in love.  I believed in his promises and every word he said to me when we were alone and in the locker room showers, holding me close under the water.  We were perfect together on court, as well… the ol’ one-two punch,” he added with a wistful look.

“Back when I was playing catatonic here, I remember seeing you play sometimes when they rolled me into the common room and put the sports channel on.  You were excellent when you passed off to- WHOA,” Rah-Rah started, staring at Marcus, his eyes wide.  “You tellin me that you were with-”

“Yeah,” Marcus replied with a knowing nod.  “I thought it would be forever.  But then just like that, he tells me that he’s with someone else, and that same night we played that team.”

“The night you went off and attacked ol boy...?”

“Yeah, the one who my dude left me for.  Of course I couldn’t explain what the real story was, because that would blow the gay whistle on all three of us.  So they just used my OCD as the reason I flipped out; I agreed to come here to keep the whole business quiet and away from the tabloids.”  He gave an impressive sigh.  “I told my family the truth, however… and from the moment I got sent here, I haven’t heard from any of them; they wrote me off.  My parents and even my little brother, who worshipped me… until he found out his big brother was a ‘faggot’.  Then he left me alone too.”  He looked at Rah-Rah.  “I guess I have a slight issue with abandonment.  Everyone leaves me.”

Rah-Rah shook his head.  “I’m not ‘leaving you’, man; I’m only going to a funeral.  That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

Marcus once again looked surprised.  “A-a funeral...?”

Rah-Rah nodded.  “A member of the family passed away; the service is this morning.  I should be there…”

“Of course, of course,” Marcus said then, waving Rah-Rah towards the door. “I totally understand.”  He paused, then reached over to kiss Rah-Rah on the lips gently.  “My condolences to you and your family.”

“Thanks,” Rah-Rah said then, pulling Marcus into another hug.  “This feels nice.  I’m gonna want another one when I get back.”

“Haven’t you officially signed out yet...?” Marcus asked Rah-Rah, pulling back and looking him in the face.  “Why are you still a patient here, anyway?”

Rah-Rah stared at Marcus for a long minute.  “You think about that one,” he replied mysteriously, walking towards the door. “See you in a little while,” he added; then he was gone.

Marcus stared after him, then sat back down on the bed.  After a moment he quietly smiled to himself.

******

It was 10 am.  The morning of Marshall Smithers’ funeral had dawned bright and sunny in the Bolo Grounds, the area which encompassed the northeast end of Seattle.  It was decided by Joe and Regine Hill that Smithers was more than family to several generations of the Hills, and as such he had a right to be buried in the place he called home for most of his life.   As a final tribute to the head manservant of the manor, the entire staff of Crimson Crest spent somber and respectfully quiet hours polishing, shining, burnishing, dusting, washing and spit-shining the mansion entire, except for the part which was closed off almost 87 years ago.  The house and grounds now glowed as magnificently as it ever did, and the path behind the house was trimmed to show the way to the Hill family Cemetery.

By half-past ten the first of the cars had begun arriving; in between longtime friends of Smithers, former members of Crimson Crest’s staff and various residents of the Bolo Grounds Community came Danny and Ray driving up in a cream and gold Aston-Martin, then from a white stretch limousine came Malik, Lamar, Jamara, Marquis- and Jake.  Once all were assembled, they all headed to the back of the manor and followed the freshly trimmed path which led to the ancient, crumbling plot of ground where the ancestors of the Hill family resided for all eternity.  Through a set of old, black gates the crowd passed, and came to a stop just in front of a large hole in the ground, and a mound o dirt almost 6 feet high.  Propped next to it was a silver-plated coffin, fully closed and surrounded by a confection of flowers and banner wreaths, declaiming various condolence markers to the mourners.  “Zis is very sad, ze way all zese dead lay here in this jardin décomposé des morts in the back of ze estate,” Jake proclaimed with a tut-tut to Marquis.

“Maybe this nice thing to do in this instance would be to gardez votre bouche fermée, if you find you have nothing nice to say,” Lamar murmured to Jake with a look which suggested he was teaching an uncouth person some manners.  Jamara, who was in Lamar’s arms, sneered at the man.

Jake instinctually threw daggers at Lamar- but readjusted his look to a properly docile one when he remembered Marquis was standing there as well.  “But of course, I meant no harm to ze family,” Jake replied, his French accent dripping with mock sincerity; “I apologize.”

Lamar nodded.  “No harm, no foul.”  He turned then and carried Jamara over to where Malik had arrived to stand with his parents Joe and Regine, as they gazed down at the shiny oblong box.

Marquis and Jake gazed around.  Besides some of the staff, themselves and Malik, Lamar and Jamara, everyone else was either well into their senior years or just arriving there.  “All zese people look like zey’re about to fall into zer own graves,” Jake whispered, leaning over to make sure only Marquis heard him this time.

Marquis shook his head.  “I just hope that I have this many friends when I pass away,” he said with a wistful look.

“You will always have me,” Jake replied then, laying his hand on Marquis's fist.

Marquis looked at him and smiled.  “You know, you seem to be the only friend I have right now that’s not mad at me for whatever reason.”

Jake hesitated, then squeezed Marquis's hand encouragingly.  “They’ll make it,” he smiled.  “Just give em some time.”

“Time’s up,” said a familiar voice behind them both.

Turning, Marquis and Jake saw Kap, Carmen and Angelina, begin escorted into the cemetery area by Rah-Rah, who wore a slate-gray suit.  Carmen and Angelina both wore their hair up and simple black, elegant dresses; Kap had on black slacks, a white shirt and dark brown tie.

Marquis's eyes lit up with happy surprise.  “You guys made it,” he said with a smile, leaving Jake’s side and running over to the advancing group.

“Hello, son,” Rah-Rah smiled at Marquis; “I was over at HT running late, and I found your friends there, they were just getting out of a cab; so I figured I’d bring them on.”

“Hello, dad,” Marquis replied quietly, yet reaching out to hug his father.  “I didn’t know you had a car…?”

“I don’t have a car yet,” Rah-Rah replied with an arch look; “but I’m a Hill.  I have a stretch limo, complete with driver.”

“It was a nice ride,” Carmen said, throwing her arms around her fiancée and kissing him.

“Very nice,” Kap said then, and Marquis's and his eyes met.  He reached over to pull Kap into an embrace.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly to Kap.  Angelina quietly reached out and squeezed Marquis's hand with concern.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kap replied; “I didn’t know about Smithers.  I would have been right by your side if I had known- no matter what,” he added, throwing a dark look over at Jake, who now walked towards them with an indecipherable look on his face.

“Greetings, friends,” Jake smiled as he approached them.  Kap’s hand balled into a fist.

Marquis looked over at Jake.  “Jake, come meet my dad!”

Rah-Rah reached out a hand in greeting.  “Hello, I’m Marquis's father,” he said in a welcoming way to Jake.

Jake took his hand and shook it with a smile.  “Bonjour, monsieur,” he replied.

“Oh,” Rah-Rah said then, surprised.  “So you’re French, then...?”

“Oui, monsieur,” Jake said with a nod.  “I grew up in France avec ma mere, with my mother, I mean.  She’s a supermodel,” Jake added.

“Oh…. Okay,” Rah-Rah said with a confused smile. “Well, I’m sorry the circumstances are not the right ones, but welcome to my family’s estate.”  And he looked over at Marquis.  “Son, I’d like to talk to you, after the service… if that’s okay.”

Marquis hesitated, then nodded.  “Sure-sure thing, Dad,” he said.

“Thanks again, Mr. Hill,” Carmen said then, her arms around Marquis.

“Yeah, thanks,” Kap said to Rah-Rah, who nodded his welcome.

“Okay, so I’ll see you later then,” Rah-Rah said, nodding once more to everyone and striding off towards where the older members of the Hill family stood.  Jake stared after him, and if anyone had seen the look, they might have called it almost murderous…

“So, JAKE,” Kap turned to say then, his voice full of dark promise-

“Well, HELLO, Jake,” Angelina said then, stepping in between Jake and Kap.  “How ARE you today...?  Fancy meeting you here,” and she grabbed his arm and led him towards the row of chairs set out for the service.

Kap started after them, but Marquis grabbed his arm.  “Not here, please,” he begged Kap in a whisper, his eyes intent.

Kap stared at Marquis, and then obligingly nodded.  “I’m going to go get a seat,” he said then, walking away.

Marquis sighed then with frustration.  “What am I gonna do,” he asked Carmen, placing his arm around her.

“I’m not the one to ask right now,” she said, coming from underneath his arm and standing apart.

Marquis looked at her, and sighed again.  “Still in the doghouse, then...?”

She looked at him, touching his face with her hand.  “Not today.  Today I’m here for you.”  She withdrew her hand.  “But tomorrow, you’ll need a map to help you find your way out of that doghouse, mi querido,” she whispered sweetly, turning then and heading towards the rows of seats.

Feeling slightly unsettled by her last remark, Marquis followed after her.