Chasing Rusty Parer -

Chapter Thirty-Five -- A Game Of Cat And Mask

Banning alcohol on campus grounds? That's tight! And wrong, of course, but, supposedly, we should tread lightly, or else we might end up canceled. This time, we'd say, The Implacable Team has just gone too far! How are the students of Sunny Hill going to lose their innocence now? How can they get rid of inhibitions and prove, once more, the truthfulness of that old adage -- in vino veritas? We don't know what's in beer, if truth's in wine, but let's leave such academic debate for another time.

Connor Williams, through means we know close to nothing about, has the ear of our Dean of Students, hence the new -- tight! -- policy on the consumption of alcohol at campus parties. We said 'close to nothing', so, Connor, watch out! We'll dig and dig and find out how you managed to convince our dear -- usually so kind and understanding in regard to students' mishaps and alcohol-imbibed endeavors - Mr. Preston that such an idea would be good for the overall wellbeing of the student populace.

"For real?" Maddox asked, putting his phone on the table and looking at him.

Rusty shrugged. "Unlike His Douchiness Connor, I don't have Preston's ear. I have no idea."

"I think it's a stretch and Xpress, like usual, is jumping the shark here," Kane said. "I mean, it's not like the college regulations regarding student life ever said that we can drink our asses off."

"Yeah, 'cause we're responsible kids," Rusty argued. "I mean, it's not like anything bad has ever happened."

"So far," Dex intervened in the conversation from his corner.

"Are you the devil's advocate or something?" Rusty questioned. "I mean, whatever, it's not like I care. I prefer to get drunk on life."

Maddox and Jonathan snickered and elbowed each other, as if they knew some joke he wasn't privy to.

"What?" he asked and gave them the evil eye.

Dex ignored his interest in the two lovebirds and continued his argument. "I'm not the devil's advocate, but I'm sure that Connor, if he really has Preston's ear, must have told him that alcohol at parties might have some bad consequences, and that was enough to scare him into listening."

"Listening, yes, but not this," Kane said. "I mean, I'll have to see it to believe it. Most probably, it's going to be some reinforcement of the rules and regulations already in place, such as for underage drinking and all that."

"Well," Dex said, after he consulted his phone, "it looks like it's more than that, because the powers that be are already advertising a few more jobs for campus safety officers. What does that tell you?"

"That we're going to be safer?" Rusty offered sagely.

"Safer from ourselves?" Dex asked. "Look, I'm only saying. This might be just the beginning. If Connor has enough power to get campus policies modified and measures are taken to enforce them, measures that involve spending more money on security, that says a lot. Next thing you know, he might ban parties altogether."

"We're seniors, we should focus on graduating," Kane said. "I mean, it might not affect us, personally, that much. Maddox and Jonathan have each other. Just look at them." Rusty looked, just as Dex did, only to see that those two were getting lost in the singular world of each other as usual. "You and I," he pointed at Dex, "we like our occasional beer, and we're studying most of the time. And Rusty here, well, he said it. He gets drunk on cat boys and baby dudes."

"I didn't say that," Rusty protested. "I said life."

Kane smirked. "So, cat boys and baby dudes aren't life?"

Rusty scoffed, annoyed by his friend's logic. "Yeah. Still, there's just one of them. One cat boy. One baby dude. That's all. I have limits."

"Surprisingly, yes," Dex said under his breath. "Anyway, back to this new campus drama, Kane, even if it doesn't affect us, shouldn't we be a bit wary of this little dictator in the making that Connor is turning into? Preston, let's admit it, he's a soft guy, easy to influence. Connor might just be practicing the efficacy of his methods of persuasion. Who knows who his next target might be?"

"Wait," Maddox intervened suddenly, "can we really be sure that Connor is behind all this? That might be only Xpress's speculations, as far as we know."

"It sounds like something he'd do. Plus, only last weekend, he tried to crush a party and destroyed a lot of bottles and even a beer keg, according to witnesses," Dex said. "You know, if it quacks like a duck and walks like a duck, it's a duck."

"Too bad it's not Donald Duck," Rusty concluded with a joke. "Leave it to me, boyos. Does Connor want to banish fun from Sunny Hill? Well, I'm here, and I'm a freaking superhero."

"Rybalt, don't you think it's a bit too ambitious to take on that crazy bunch of assholes?" Dex asked with a sly grin.

Rusty put his fists on his hips and pushed his shoulders up, in as much of a superhero impersonation as he could muster. "Don't worry about me. You, boys, see to your studies and your beer stash. I will give Sunny Hill reasons to believe that Connor's dark reign is not here to stay."

"Okay, man, cheers to you." Dex raised his beer. "Wait, you don't suppose they're going to start checking on our personal supplies?"

"That would be a stretch," Kane started again.

Rusty didn't wait to hear more as the argument renewed between the two besties and turned on his heel. Well, the fact that Connor was acting like such a major douche could work to his advantage. The shittier his opponent was, the cooler he'd be, right? Yeah, Connor was fucking stupid, making so many enemies among the students of Sunny Hill. Eh, it wasn't his business, anyway, how Connor chose to meet his social demise.

***

Rusty observed with satisfaction the reactions of those who stopped in front of the big poster he had made and plastered all over the bulletin board, right on top of an announcement put there by S.H.I.T. for one of their obnoxious meetings intended to lecture the guys and gals of Sunny Hill on how to give up a life of debauchery and choose to kiss His Douchiness's ring instead.

Maybe he was no artist, and the pic was pretty grainy, since it was just a screenshot from the little video of his first public performance that had circulated online, but he had done a good job with the font and, of course, the message. Forget about withdrawal! Get high on Rybalt! Each Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night at ten, on the roof of a random building on campus! Magic, music, entertainment!

What he was doing could probably qualify as disruptive, but if anyone with half a brain thought Connor and his shitheads had a right to do what they were doing, he was very much entitled to the same rights. And, of course, it was important for him to test his audience and see what resonated with them. The world was yet to become his oyster, but the little world of Sunny Hill could very much serve as his lab to experiment in.

"Can you believe it? That guy is going to sing again," one girl giggled into another's ear. "He's so sexy!"

"We're so totally go to watch and hear him again," the other agreed. "Maybe we can get a selfie!"

No selfies, ladies, Rusty mused to himself. He had no intention of letting anyone get close enough to reveal his identity before it was the right time for that. Connor would so eat his heart out, but there was still a reputation to build before that happened. There was no point in hurrying toward the conclusion. The journey was fun.

There was also a second reason, an intimate one, for why he had offered such clear details on when and where he could be spotted. Jonathan had made a very valid point regarding Slicky's willingness for a threesome, and if the cat boy was as little as a smidge interested in Rybalt, he'd come. Sure, Rybalt was not Rusty Parker, the -- former? -- king of Sunny Hill, but that didn't matter. He only had to ask a simple question. And maybe fondle certain body parts of said cat boy.

***

Well, supposedly, that was his chance to get to meet Rybalt again and, while in his cat boy suit, make it pretty clear that he had no intention of letting himself be kissed again. He would clear the air, maybe say something along the lines that he had an owner or something like that, and that he wouldn't stand being petted -- and kissed! -- by a stranger, no matter how mysterious and sexy. Was it enough to clear his guilty conscience? Maybe not entirely, and maybe Zoey, in her crazy way, had a point in telling him that Slicky was free of any contract, but his conscience didn't work that way.

Also, it was a bit funny that he could cockblock Rusty's threesome initiative from the get-go. Hell, he should have been quite satisfied that the only other guy Rusty was willing to go to bed with was also him. Matty shook his head and sighed. He needed to see what day was okay for him to visit Zoey's quarters with the precise intention of his magical transformation, since her having a roommate was a bit of a problem for their shady plans.

Damn, John was annoying by being such a fly in the soup. Nowadays, except for his S.H.I.T. activities and mandatory courses, he was spending most of his time indoors, pretending to study or forcing himself to. Matty wished he didn't care that much, but his roommate's long-suffering sighs were driving him crazy.

Because of him, he couldn't slip in and out his cat boy persona as often as he wanted, or with as much liberty.

"What do you do for fun, John?" he asked, without raising his eyes from his textbook.

"Fun is overrated," his roommate replied in the same fashion.

"Don't you ever think that you might end up regretting not having had fun when you had the chance?" Matty continued.

"No, never," John said back passionately.

"Okay," Matty replied.

They continued to read from their textbooks for a while, only the sound of the pages being turned filling the space between them.

"And I am having fun," John said. "By studying and attending group activities."

"That's right," Matty said breezily. "Is it true? Did Connor tell Mr. Preston that policies on alcohol on campus should be tighter?"

"Yes. Mr. Preston took some convincing, though. He thinks, just like you, that students should have fun instead of studying."

"I doubt that's the case with Mr. Preston. As for me, I've never said that. You should have both in your life. For balance, you know? But, whatever floats your boat, I guess."

"Matthew," John said pointedly, "do you have fun with that guy?"

It was funny how John couldn't even bring himself to say Rusty's name as if it were some kind of a curse trigger.

"Yeah, we do. We're friends," Matty replied. He was about to add something, but John must have climbed out of his bed and walked over to his silently, because his shadow fell over him, startling him. "What?" he asked, raising his eyes.

John looked at him intently. "He's a womanizer. What kind of fun do you have with him?"

"The usual fun," Matty said promptly. And, whatever little devil was sitting on his shoulder at that very moment, he added, "You know, making the beast with two backs, enjoying horizontal refreshments, airing the sheets, tossing salads at each other, that kind of thing."

John blinked and stared at him through his thick glasses. Completely unfazed by the staring, he stared back.

"I haven't heard of any of those games," John said slowly. "So, you're making the bed together and you're cleaning, that's it? And that thing about the salads, are you two cooking together?"

"Yes, you could say that," Matty said with aplomb. "I can assure you, everything we do is absolutely delicious."

"Delicious? Can I have some?"

"No," Matty replied promptly and returned to his textbook. "Why are you so curious anyway?"

"Because someone like you should be with us, not with the likes of that guy."

"I believe I'm perfectly capable of choosing my friends, thank you," Matty said, pouring a bit of acid on that salad.

"We could do all those things with you," John insisted.

Matty hid his face behind his textbook. "It wouldn't work. They're all two-person games and I'm only enjoying them with Rusty and no one else."

"That sounds very narrow-minded," John said. "But to each their own, I suppose," he added, sounding quite miffed at being refused so bluntly. "You should open up more and toward other people, Matty."

"I don't think so," Matty said and breathed noisily through his mouth, to signal that the conversation was over.

Well, the problem was that he, indeed, was a bit too open toward other people, and by that, he only meant the mysterious singer Rybalt. Yeah, he needed to stop that opening from happening, and the sooner, the better.

***

His Thursday night performance had really drawn a crowd, and he was more than satisfied with the response. He never sang for the same length of time, as he was wary of idiots who would try to ruin his show, and especially of the mood of those who witnessed his singing. It looked like the students of Sunny Hill didn't mind listening to more complex pieces, and he didn't have to opt for operatic renditions of known pop songs to reel them in. All in all, life was good.

And it would have been even better if he could only get his hands on a certain elusive cat boy, and obtain from him the refusal of a threesome. Sure, that didn't eliminate the desire for a two-way, a little bit of fondling, and a little bit of naughtiness. However, despite his overt advertising so far, there had been no sign of Slicky. Well, it was still only his second performance, so it served no one to be so impatient.

He took his mandatory bow and waved at the audience. It looked like he was being left alone, both by the powers that be and Connor's shitheads, so all was well on that front. With the same elegance as always, he flaunted his cape and wrapped himself in it, in a pretense of a magic trick to make himself disappear. He was just really good at dropping to the floor, while holding the cape with one hand so that those below would be easily fooled into believing that he was disappearing. So far, the magic trick had worked like a charm.

Once he was far enough from prying eyes, he got to his feet and began walking normally. He would start eliminating elements of his disguise while away from anyone else, so that, even if caught, it would appear as if he was just a normal student, a bit overdressed, roaming the campus at night for no apparent reason. Sure thing, he needed to work on his alibi more, but, until now, there had been no risky situations to warrant him to worry or hurry in that respect.

He was about to take his mask off when he noticed someone standing on the edge of the building's roof, at a fair distance from him. The distance wasn't an obstacle in recognizing who it was. Rusty grinned and pressed his mask against his face as he began treading lightly, like a cat -- how apropos! -- toward his target.

Slicky turned his head when he was only two feet away. "I can hear you, you know," he said in the same screechy voice.

"No, you can't," Rusty replied, making his voice deep. "How are you tonight, my darling?" He offered his hand for Slicky to take so that he could help him off the edge, but the cat boy huffed and jumped down by his side.

They were so close they could sense each other well. Slicky smelled nice, Rusty thought and turned as the cat boy was moving around him, as if he was trying to see him from all angles. The cat boy wouldn't reach for his mask, for sure, because the war they were waging was one of mutual assured destruction.

"You kissed me," Slicky accused.

"So? Don't tell me you disliked it," Rusty said and grinned. The cat boy wanted him dizzy, because he had to turn and turn to keep visual contact.

"I'm here to tell you never to do it again," Slicky continued, ignoring his words.

"Or else?" Rusty slid one hand around Slicky's slim waist and pulled him close.

Slicky pressed both hands against him, but he didn't appear very keen on rejecting him. So, it was just a little game of cat and mouse. "Or else, my owner wouldn't like it."

"Your owner? I thought you were a stray cat," Rusty said, bringing Slicky as close as he could manage. There was something terribly familiar in how the weight of that body felt in his arms. Stimulated by that scent, he moved his nose alongside Slicky's jaw. Yes, definitely familiar. Probably since that time they had fooled around a bit? It was possible, but Rusty felt unsatisfied with that explanation.

"Things change," Slicky squealed. "Let me go."

"Not so fast. If you have an owner, why are you looking for me?"

"I told you," Slicky whined, "just to tell you never to kiss me again."

"Oh, is that right? What are you going to do if I kiss you again, anyway?"

"I can scratch you," Slicky warned.

"I'm not afraid," Rusty assured him.

***

Getting so close had been, without a doubt, a terrible mistake. Matty was searching his brain for a solution to get away from Rybalt, but the grip on his body was so tight that he didn't have a lot of leeway to escape. His nose brushed unintentionally against Rybalt's throat, and something cut through the mess of thoughts in his mind like a red thread. Why did he feel as if he had been in this kind of situation with this guy before? That wasn't possible, Rybalt had only appeared on campus last week... but wait, he could be a student at Sunny Hill...

Lost as he was in those convoluted scenarios, he missed how Rybalt angled his head and put his lips on his again. Matty let out a small surprised squeal, but it was too late. Rybalt leaned him back as if they were playing a romantic scene in an old movie, without letting go of his lips. Startled as he was, Matty wrapped his arms around the stranger's strong shoulders, unwittingly deepening their kiss.

The red thread turned into a rope. What the hell... he knew the taste of those lips, that tongue in his mouth, the way it flicked first to the left, then to the right...

He pushed back suddenly and with so much force that Rybalt almost dropped him. Luckily for Matty, the mysterious singer caught him again and cradled his head as it was about to crash against the hard roof.

"Damn," Rybalt whispered, and now Matty, still in shock, thought he could recognize those inflections, too.

He rolled to one side quickly and jumped to his feet. From behind his mask, Rybalt stared at him in what seemed like surprise. "No more kisses," he said quickly. "That's all I wanted to tell you."

"Wait," Rybalt shouted after him, "how about a threesome with a cute guy?"

Matty was already running away and felt his head burrowing into his shoulders. "No way!" he shouted back.

Oh gawd. He knew the true identity of the mysterious singer. He hadn't even needed that threesome reference.

***

Rusty rolled himself on his back, the cape thick enough to provide cushioning for him to lie like that, looking at the night sky. That kiss had been amazing, the soft lips opening slowly, welcoming him to taste their sweetness.

And that moment, he had realized what had been under his nose all this time. "That's so cool," he whispered under his breath.

He knew who Slicky Coolplums was. Finally. Now, the true questions began. How to play properly with a cat? How to snare him to the point that he'd be turned into a house pet? And of course, how to make him give himself away for real?

***

Zoey helped Matty out of his costume, and they were on the clock. Her roommate had come back early, and now they were both stuck in the small bathroom. Zoey's roommate probably imagined they were having sex in there, judging by the grunts and whispers that could probably be heard through the door. When they finally emerged, Matty back in his usual clothes and Zoey pretending that the bundled costume was laundry, the girl was staring at them with suspicious eyes. Still, whatever she thought she kept to herself for the moment. Later, she'd probably question Zoey, but there was nothing Matty could do about that. "Hi," he said and waved.