The littlest of the group leaned away from the huddle. “You queer, mister?”
“What if I am?” the stranger asked. There was a glimmer in his eye, more mischief than threat.
The boy wasn’t quite sure how to parse it. The question finally came out, clumsy, “You want us?”
The man smiled, “No. No I don’t.”
“Then why?”
“Because once upon a time, I was where you are now, and a man did this for me. I’m hoping that one day, you kids will be in a position to do it too.”
“That’s all?”
But another boy was pushing the leader of the group, and a little push was apparently all that was needed.
“Whatever,” the leader of the kids said. He opened a pocket of his vest and fished out a joint.
The man took it, and wasted no time in lighting it, taking in a breath, holding it, then puffing out a ring. “See? Not a cop.”
He nudged the beer closer to the group with one foot.
Hesitant at first, like animals edging closer to a watering hole that predators might frequent, the boys reached for the beer.
They pulled it closer and tore it open to get at the cans within.
The man smiled, leaning against a tree, facing away from the boys. He smoked.
The smallest boy of the group watched the stranger, wary, but still took a beer.
The drinking progressed, and the boys started to relax. They relaxed even more when a woman came down the path, her hand finding the man’s, fingers winding together with his.
She was gorgeous. Not in the way you saw in the skin magazines, but beautiful all the same.
She apparently heard the whispers from the boys, because she turned her head, paying attention to them for the first time, and she smiled.
“We might have a proper party going now,” the man said. “Maybe you want to invite some of your younger sisters? Maybe the Ibix trio, too?”
The woman smiled, practically skipping off into the woods.
Each of the boys, with the exception of one, were too inebriated to notice how contrived the situation seemed.
When the other girls arrived, with three more boys and one more case of beer, the other boys were definitely too distracted to notice. The new arrivals had a look to them, as though both boy and girl were just naturally ill-suited to clothes. The clothes hung wrong, as if enticing, demanding that the situation be remedied, inviting the clothes to come off.
The smallest boy in the group watched the scene unfold. He was tipsy, but not drunk. Swaying lightly as he sat, he turned down three girls before the group collectively decided to leave him alone.
Neils, D’s best friend and right hand man, was getting more attention from the three boys that had come with the girls than from any girls.
The small boy shook his head, trying to get his senses in order.
He was a little alarmed to see the man staring at him.
The man beckoned.
The small boy didn’t move.
Another beckoning.
People were stopping what they were doing.
In the midst of that scene, the spell ending, he saw glimmers. One of the girls had sharp teeth. The boy with his hand on Neils’ chest had an animal gleam in his eyes, his hair too long, the muscle structure of his shoulders odd, too pronounced.
Unneverved, the smaller boy stood, hurrying out of the crowd by the clearest route available. Putting him right in front of the strange man.
The man took another puff.
At that moment, the smallest boy realized the joint wasn’t burning up. It burned, and it generated smoke, but it wasn’t any shorter than it had been when it had first been lit.
“What’s going on?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” the man asked. “Not much of a drinker?”
The smaller boy shrugged, feeling uncomfortable, still unnerved.
“Too young?” the man asked.
“I’m older than most of them. Just a…”
“Late bloomer.”
“Sure,” the boy said.
The man nodded. “Not interested in this?”
“I’m interested,” the boy said, with a defensive note. “I’m… it’s just, Troy moved a couple months back, you know? He was the oldest and knew how stuff went, so he was in charge, but when he moved, there was a lot of stupid fighting over who’d take his spot and call the shots.”
“You weren’t one of them?”
“Nah.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“Well, D jumped off a bridge on a dare, to prove his worth. Stripped down to his skivvies, hopped off the side, and landed ass first. Water went right up his ass-”
The man laughed, abrupt and loud enough to spook.
The kid couldn’t help but smile a little. “He nearly died.”
The man laughed harder.
“Shit blood for a month after, he says. But we didn’t have it in us to tell him he couldn’t take over, after all he’d been through.”
The boy looked at ‘D’, who had his hand up one girl’s shirt. Another girl snuggled close to him, worming her head under his arm, using one hand to tip the beer he held so it emptied onto her waiting tongue.
“Ah. I think I understand,” the stranger said.
“I dunno if you do.”
“You didn’t want to be in charge, but you’re the one that watches out for them, after D’s misadventure.”
“I guess. Are they okay?”
“Probably. You know, it’s good that you care like that. Shows the right kind of leadership.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely,” the man said. He took another puff. “I’ve been looking for an apprentice.”
“Apprentice?”
“If you’re interested. I don’t get the feeling you dislike any of this, outside of not knowing what’s going on.”
“I dunno.”
“I’d have to teach you to be more firm. That’s a joke, haha. As for not knowing what’s going on, that’s easily fixed. I’m a priest.”
“A priest?”
“Yes. Not like you’re imagining. I worship Dionysus. You know that one?”
The boy shook his head.
“Tragic. Downright tragic. I worship him, and he gives me his favor. Right here…”
Sweater raised, the man showed off his belt buckle, a section of horn.
“That’s one such gift. So long as I wear it, it keeps my drink flowing and herbs burning, so it doesn’t run out… you can probably count the cans, and you’ll see more than that case is supposed to hold.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s all about investment. That’s how gods operate. They gamble, molding life and giving that life a breath of the divine, to get it moving, and they hope that that little bit of life will earn them more than it cost them. You can see my god’s creations doing their earning right there.”
The small boy looked at the scene, then looked away, uncomfortable.
“Same for me. I made pledges, promising myself to my god’s favor, promising to keep to certain rules, and he gives me these favors.”
“Like cases of beer that don’t run out?”
“Yes, and other things. I watch over his girls and boys there,” the priest said, smiling, “And he’s gifted me with a new one, matching my exact taste and interests. A reward for proving my worth and reliability, and a way of keeping them current. I can call on his favor, but there are no guarantees. I have to gauge how happy he is with me, and if I want him to give me something specific, I have to ensure he’s very happy.”