Ricardo took another few minutes to finish packing Dean's things into the car.
Dean's vision blurred with tears as he searched through his phone for a friend. Stephanie was interstate on a holiday. He called her and told her what had happened. She recommended some people; after ringing around he eventually found somewhere to stay.
Dean and Ricardo didn't speak a word the entire trip because there was nothing to say. After all, they both wanted to be rid of one another. Dean was going to stay at Melody's house in Mansfield for a week. If he had not been so heartbroken, he would have been apprehensive.
The car quietly hummed along the highway as he vacantly gazed out the window at the red sunset splashing against the glass skyline of the city. It sent arrhythmic crimson shimmers into his eyes as they quietly cruised along. Thin clouds lit up like deep cuts, as if the sun was in a frenzy of wanton destruction.
Clean steel buildings and suburban sprawl gave way to a jungle alternating between housing complexes and night clubs. Mansfield was a refuge for the poor and a party district for tourists. Most blocks had at least one liquor store and strip club.
Traffic congestion slowed them down as they passed through the centre of the district along Velvet Avenue. Pink, purple and blue neon lights illuminated the twilight as taxi vans full of femme disembarked and made their way to one of the scores of strip clubs and brothels along the velvet strip. As Dean expected, most of the patrons were middle-aged or older. Such was the age of the average femme, but also, he noticed that older femme tended to be more interested in such sexually degrading establishments.
Of course, religious ladies who followed Dibella considered it virtuous. Practically every birthday of a senior coven sister would be celebrated with decadent trip to the strip. That was one of many things he overheard while topping up the wine glasses of those selfish old witches. He swallowed when he realised that he would never do that again. As much as he resented being their servant, at least he was safe there. Suddenly, everything was uncertain now.
They drove past one bar called 'Ladies Lounge' which had a flashing sign saying, 'Topless boys, all boys nude between 12-1 for happy hour'
Another sign above a narrow entrance read 'Babcock's Boydello'.
One facade was decorated like a medieval stone castle and the sign read, 'Diana's Dungeon: Where you make the rules.'
The next sign read, 'Burlesque Boys Erotic Theatre -- The best dine-in live erotic theatre in town'
Another establishment was little more than a small discrete door with the title, 'Purple Velvet Inn -- Make all of your fantasies come true'
Rows of busses lined the street as tourist from all across Asia and the middle east came to experience the exotic offerings of America. Dean saw an establishment with Chinese characters and the image of a blonde boy in a leather choker about to take his g-string off.
An entire block either side of Velvet Avenue was nothing but strip clubs and brothels, and the strip ran for a mile. Dean had no idea that this place was so large, or so popular. He hopelessly wondered if this was where he would end up. Less than ten minutes after getting through the congested heart of the strip, the familiar youthful male voice of the driving computer chimed in with an optimistic tone that Dean found aggravating.
"You have reached your destination. I look forward to your next ride with me," The young male voice was almost sensual. The designers clearly didn't have Dean in mind when they programed the voice.
They rolled into the underground carpark of a dilapidated concrete apartment complex. It was of identical construction to half a dozen others that Dean saw along the way. The car stopped outside of a large service elevator where a slightly portly man with a greying beard stood next to Melody outside the elevator. Dean was almost disappointed that they cared so much; he didn't feel that he deserved it. Getting help from people so poor only compounded his guilt.
The car stopped in front of the elevator and Dean got out. Melody had her hands over her mouth and the man frowned. She gave Dean a hug and the man gave Dean a firm handshake with a thick rough hand. He was built like a tradesman.
"I'm Mr Baker. My daughter told me about your situation. We'd be happy to help you for the week," he said with a matter of fact tone in his voice and steely concern in his eyes.
"Thank you Mr Baker," Dean said while glancing down.
"I'll get my things," he turned to the boot which Ricardo had already opened by pushing a button on the front dashboard.
Mr Baker squinted to look through the tinted glass and see who was inside. Ricardo was not going to get out.
"Sorry, just ignore him," Dean said.
Mr Baker knew when to leave things be.
"Who is he?" she asked.
"Nobody," Dean replied coldly as he gathered his things.
Mr Baker had the forethought to bring a luggage trolley. Dean gave him an appreciative smile before beginning to load his belongings onto it. His shoulders hunched with the realization that his life would never be the same again.
---
The four of them sat at the square dinner table; one on each side. Melody Baker to Dean's right, her dad opposite and her mother to his left.
Despite it being their third evening together, everyone was still unsure of what to say as they ate their chicken and lentil stew.
Dean did his best to fill the awkward silence.
"Thank you for your hospitality Lady Baker. I'm grateful to have a place to stay. Thank you for opening your home to me," he almost sounded like he was begging for forgiveness. "And the food was delicious Mr Baker."
"Don't thank me. It was Melody's work," Mr Baker replied. His smile was partially hidden behind a bushy beard.
"Oh. Well thanks Melody," Dean said.
A femme hadn't cooked Dean a meal since he was child. He was accustomed to cooking all of his own meals and most of his mother's. It was a strange feeling to be served by a femme; as if he had been transported two hundred years into the past.
"And there is no need to thank us Dean," Mrs Baker smiled at him compassionately. "We're just glad that you are ok. And you can call me Lindsay. Or Mrs Baker if you like to be formal. But I don't go by 'Lady'. That's more of a Dibellan thing. We don't believe in that kind of thing in this house."
Dean smiled at her. Her words were a soothing balm to an open wound. She was slender with bright red hair. Smooth pale skin and bright blue eyes. Dean could see where Melody got her hair colour but that was about where the similarities ended. Melody wasn't nearly as attractive; she had a bit of belly fat and an asymmetrical face. Dean hated himself for noticing her physical flaws.
"Nobody should ever go through what you did," Melody reached out to pat his forearm.
Dean looked down at his plate. Her attempt to comfort him only reminded him of his mistake; giving away his virginity to one the most popular girls in school.
"What did I expect was going to happen!?" he thought. "Did I expect her to fall in love with me, settle down and get married?! Was she going to ignore all of the other boys that would seek the attention that came with her fame!? Any idiot who listened to her podcast would have known what she thought of boys. And of marriage. Even if she did marry me, there was no way that such an avid follower of the Goddess would even pretend to be faithful to her husband."
Nevertheless, he gave into her. He submitted to her desires. And once he had, it was inevitable that his mother would find out. He felt so stupid. But more than that; he was angry. He knew that his mother was a bigot; knew that she would never understand. But he still didn't expect her to throw him out like she did.
"Maybe it hurt her more than I could have imagined," his thoughts went on uninterrupted by the clatter of cutlery on plates.
The more he thought about it the more guilty he felt. He hoped that his mother was eating salad every night. Her fiancé wouldn't exactly prepare the healthiest meals.
"No!" He thought. "This isn't right! She doesn't deserve another moment of my concern."
The kitchen tap came on. Dean looked up to find Melody squirting some detergent into the sink. She had stacked up three plates and was about the place them in the sink. His plate was still in front of him and half full. He caught Mrs and Mr Baker exchanging knowing glances.
"It's delicious," Dean looked to Mrs Baker apologetically. "I just... I guess that I have a lot on my mind that's all."
He started shovelling a spoon full of lentils into his mouth.
"Take your time," Mrs Baker said.
"Just leave it by the sink when you are done," Melody smiled at him. "I'll do it for you."
Dean replied with a nod then swallowed.
"We are heading to bed now," Mr Baker said. "Just call if you need anything."
"Oh ok," Dean forced a smile.
They started to get up but there was barely enough room for them to pull their chairs out.
"Lady, I mean, Mrs Baker," Dean's spoke up suddenly. "May I use your shower tonight?"
"Dean," she sighed. "You don't need to ask every time. You are welcome to use it as long as you are here."
--
Hot water soothed Dean's body as it flowed down his back. The shower was standing room only and he almost had to stoop down to get his hair wet. He was free to let it out; to have a good cry. But nothing came out. He felt numb and confused. Part of him was distraught, his mother had disowned him and he had no other family to speak of. But another part was relieved. There was a strange freedom. Besides, he felt like he had already lost his mother a long time ago anyway. Ever since she starting inviting those witches over to their home, their relationship had gone from distant to hostile. He knew how he was supposed to feel, but instead all that remained was a mixture of guilt, shame, resentment and relief.
He heard two knocks at the door and assumed that it was Mr Baker. After making sure that the curtain was pulled all the way across, he called out, "Yes. Come in!"
The unlocked door swung open.
"I'll just grab your used clothes," the voice was not what Dean expected; it was Melody.
"I'm putting on a load of washing. And I got you a fresh towel."
Her tone was casual.
Dean peered through a small tear in the opaque plastic curtain to the mirror door of the bathroom cabinet opposite the shower. A fuzzy beige outline of his body was clearly visible from where Melody was standing. His heart was in his throat as he watched her pick up his things through the reflection. She apparently didn't know that he was watching because she examined his underwear much longer than was appropriate. Then she bundled up his clothes and stood still. Dean watched the back of her head through the mirror; it was still like a statue. She was looking right at him. The next five seconds felt like an eternity.
"Ok," she called out. "all done!"
She made her way out again.
Dean breathed out as soon as the door closed behind her. That was when he realized that he had been holding his breath.
"Damn!" he thought. "She could see my silhouette! What if I had an erection? Or maybe that's what she was looking for."
"She is good at heart," he reminded himself. "Everyone makes mistakes. Just because she had a moment of weakness doesn't mean that she doesn't respect me. Sure, she is a good advocate for male rights but she is still a femme with natural desires."
--
Dean pulled back the thin sheet that was tucked under the sofa mattress. Melody had made the bed for him while he was in the shower; just as she had done the night before.
He tossed and turned for hours. The window was open but the still night didn't offer a breeze. The warm evening air felt like it was suffocating him.
He got up to pace around the tiny living room. The moon light helped him find the switch for kitchen light. After his eyes had adjusted, the first thing he saw was an old Christian symbol; a relic of the old world that most educated people would find offensive.
