Gabriel and the Devil Read online

  Even from the bed I could see that the wardrobe was impressive. If some old lady had lived in this apartment, why would she have such nice men’s clothes? But if they weren’t already here, how could Marcello have conjured them up with just a wave of his hand? It didn’t make any sense.

  “This is some kind of a trick,” I tried to assure myself as I made my pronouncement. “You’re not really a devil. There’s no such thing.”

  “Gabriel, what kind of good Catholic boy are you? If you believe in God, you have to believe in the devil. And Lord knows I’m full of it.” He followed up with an evil grin and a wink. “Now let’s get you into a costume for the party. First I think that we need some wings for my angel boy.”

  He reached deep into the closet and sure enough, he produced a pair of lightweight plastic wings. They had shoulder straps like a backpack. I sat up, amazed at the find.

  “It’s still hot outside, so you’ll need to be a hot angel,” he teased.

  Next he pulled a pair of white shorts out of the dresser drawer. The shorts were really short. Like so short that no one would wear such short shorts.

  “These will be perfect on you.”

  “I’d never leave the house dressed in those,” I insisted. Why was I even entertaining the notion?

  “Only good comes from evil,” he reminded me. “I’d hate to have something evil happen to the clothes that you’re wearing in order to have you look so good in these.” He dangled the shorts in front of me before dropping them on the bed. Then he pulled out a pair of white sweat socks from the drawer and a pair of white lace-up boots from the closet. “I’ll step out while you slip into your costume, Angel.”

  “Where’s the shirt?”

  He ran his gloved finger between my pecs and down my black T-shirt. I’d intended it to be my only concession for Halloween. I shuddered at his touch and he noticed.

  In a low, growling whisper he said, “I don’t think you’ll need a shirt, Angel. Have you ever seen an angelic blond cherub wearing a shirt?” Then he winked again. His long eyelashes were accented with a bit of mascara, and his chocolate-brown eyes twinkled.

  I don’t know what kind of a spell he’d put on me, but I did as I was told. Once he was out of the room, I dressed as his idea of an angel—a hot angel. As I checked myself out in front of the full-length mirror, I couldn’t help but believe that I did look like a hot angel. I worked out and took care of myself. This was the body God had given me, and it was my job to keep it in good condition. But I’d never really taken the time to admire it. This costume made me look good. But did I have the guts to go out onto the street dressed like this?

  This wasn’t like me at all. I always did what was right. But there was something about Marcello that kept… tempting me.

  There was a knock.

  “C’mon, Angel. It’s time for you to step out into the world and combat evil.”

  I opened the door.

  Marcello’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He eyed me up and down just like the first time we’d met—only it was so much more intense this time. It was lust.

  He moved his mouth, but no words came out.

  Finally he managed to say, “You’ll turn every head at the party. Now just try to tell me that’s not good.” Then he went on, “Just one final touch.” He sprayed some hairspray into my hair and made it spiky on top before adding in some glitter. Then he sprayed a light dusting of hairspray onto my smooth chest and tossed a bit of glitter there too.

  “Now you’re ready to sparkle, Angel.”

  Chapter Two

  THE SIGN on the green steel door only said “Exit” in bold red letters. The dark alley wall surrounding it was solid brick. It was after ten by the time we’d left, and surprisingly the streets were pretty deserted considering it was Halloween night. Still, we’d kept to back alleys most of the way and stayed under the cover of darkness. We were quiet all the way and even our footfalls made no sound. Fortunately the place wasn’t all that far.

  “What is this place?” I whispered.

  Marcello grinned at me. “This, dear Angel, is the Exit bar. Everyone has to go sometime. Well, can you think of a better end?”

  It sounded awfully foreboding to me. I had no answer.

  Marcello rapped on the door. It wasn’t exactly a secret knock. It was just the “shave and haircut” beat.

  The door swung out and a rough-looking old man dressed like he belonged in a motorcycle gang blocked the way with beefy arms crossed over his barrel chest. A heavy bass beat pounded loud enough to make whatever song was playing unintelligible. He looked us both up and down, but when he finally reached Marcello’s face, an out-of-character grin appeared below his handlebar mustache.

  “Marcello, you little ol’ devil you. What brings you back to this hellhole?”

  Marcello laughed. “Where on Earth are we gonna find any more fun?”

  “Is the twink old enough?”

  “He’s legal,” Marcello said with a shrug.

  “Good enough. Get in here before someone sees.”

  The music was so much louder inside. And even though I thought my eyes were adjusted to the dark after our walk here, I could barely see anything. Between the strobes and tracking colored lights, my eyes were constantly trying to adjust. I stayed close to Marcello.

  All through college I’d stayed away from frat parties and all of the usual college stuff that leads to trouble. I really wasn’t prepared for this. All of the guys were dressed for Halloween in some sort of costume, although most showed plenty of skin and some showed more than I did. But the women were dressed in sparkling evening gowns with lots of makeup and big hair. I wondered why they weren’t dressed for Halloween too.

  When I could catch a glimpse of the dance floor, I couldn’t even tell who was dancing with who. It was just a mass of writhing bodies.

  Marcello put his mouth to my ear and yelled while his hot breath tickled me. “Wait here! I’ll get you some sacramental wine! Be right back!”

  I looked in the direction Marcello headed, but he’d practically vanished. I tried to act cool—as if I belonged here. But I couldn’t have felt more out of place. It was hard standing in one place because it was so packed people kept jostling me. It felt like someone ran their hand right along my butt, and I turned to only see a bunch of guys behind me. While I’d turned to look, somebody grabbed my crotch. This time I saw her and up close; she was the ugliest girl I’d ever seen. She winked a big false eyelash at me, and then she licked her overly painted lips. I tried not to visibly shudder.

  Then something cold and wet touched my shoulder and I was ready to come back swinging, only to see Marcello holding a wet brown bottle out to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “You can call it sacramental wine. I call it beer.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “Now there’s a surprise. C’mon. This will help to loosen you up for the dance floor.”

  I looked out again at all of the writhing bodies.

  “I don’t dance either. Besides, we don’t have anyone to dance with.”

  Marcello gave me a funny look before he schooled his expression. “Nobody else out there really has a partner either. They’re just dancing and having fun. Now drink up.”

  Marcello tilted his bottle to his lips, and I did the same. I got a big swig of the beer, and it was awful. I hated the smell and the taste. I closed my eyes to let it settle in when a warm feeling hit my stomach. At least that felt good. I could just hear Marcello’s voice in my head telling me that only good comes out of evil. Well, the beer smelled and tasted evil, but the feeling in my stomach was good. Marcello held up his bottle, and when I did the same, he clinked his against mine. Then we each took another swig. At least the second wasn’t as bad as the first.

  Marcello finished his beer before I did, and I don’t know what he did with his bottle. I suppose he made it vaporize. While I finished up my beer, we stared out at the dance floor. The music did seem to be coming through the heavy
pounding bass, and I felt my body start to sway with the beat. There was a tickling on my shoulder blades between my wings, and a warm glove massaged the back of my neck to ease my tension. The tickling no doubt came from the feathers on his cuffs. Marcello had his arm behind me, and I let him go. He was probably trying to help me to relax enough to get out and dance.

  I tried to hurry through my beer, but that just made it go to my head faster. I think I started to imagine things because it looked like a couple of guys were making out while they dirty danced together. I kept watching because I was sure one of them had to be a girl, maybe dressed like a guy? But they were both shirtless.

  I felt the bottle being tugged from my hand.

  “C’mon, Angel. Let’s get you out on that dance floor while you’re still flying. I don’t want you to crash to Earth without having any fun.”

  Marcello’s gloved hand started at my bicep and slipped down to my wrist to drag me out to the floor. But by the time we’d made it, he was holding my hand. That seemed strange. What if someone saw?

  He was dancing right in front of me. This wasn’t the silly dancing he’d done on the street to keep me from going home. This was more intense. His eyes never left mine, only somehow he must have known that I was clueless as to what I was doing because he reached both hands out for my hips to get me moving with his rhythm. It felt good to move along with him like that. We actually got in synch.

  He smiled wide at me, and then he pulled me in tighter until we were chest to chest. His goatee tickled my shoulder as he leaned in toward my ear and shouted, “I just wanted to make sure you don’t fall down! Are you doing okay?”

  I hooked my chin over his shoulder and felt both warm skin and a sequined suspender strap. I didn’t have any words. I just nodded. This feeling—this closeness—was unlike any I’d ever known. I was more than just okay. His chest was hot against mine, and we were both a bit sweaty. He smelled spicy and musky without any hint of sulfur—not at all like fire and brimstone. He moved his hips closer to me, and as he rubbed against me, I was embarrassed to realize I was hard—but so was he. I was afraid to move away because I didn’t want anybody to see.

  That was my last clear memory of the night. Everything else was only fragments. I think we drank some more. I know that we danced again. Some girls got in a fight, and they tore each other’s wigs off. When it was time to go home, I didn’t want to leave. But when we left, my ears were ringing so much I don’t know what Marcello said to me.

  The only real clear memory came when I woke up. My arms were wrapped tightly around Marcello’s chest, and I was softly stroking the hairs on his firm pecs. One of my legs was wrapped around his, and I was rock-hard, wearing only the tiny shorts Marcello gave me for a costume. Marcello was just wearing a pair of boxers.

  When I looked around, I realized that we were back in the apartment Marcello had broken into the night before. My head was pounding. I had to pee so badly that I couldn’t leave before I did. But I was angry.

  I shoved Marcello away from me. I was disgusted.

  “What did you do to me?” I shouted.

  He wasn’t even fully awake. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at me.

  “Huh? What?”

  I leapt out of bed too fast. My head began pounding, and my stomach churned. I already knew where the bathroom was, and once again I was on my knees in front of the toilet retching. I didn’t think to lock the door or even close it. While I puked my guts out, Marcello rubbed my back and whispered, “You’re okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  I wasn’t in a position to disagree.

  Once I’d been reduced to dry heaves, he got up to wet a washcloth and started wiping the sweat from my face and my back.

  I was wrung out, but finally I had the strength to ask him to leave me alone and close the door behind him. My bladder won out and I relieved myself. I rinsed my mouth like a million times before I could think of facing him. I wasn’t going to wait for him to produce a magic toothbrush out of thin air.

  When I looked in the mirror, there was still glitter leftover on my chest. I ran wet fingers through my hair to tame the mess on my head. Then, with no other choice, I left the bathroom.

  He wasn’t in the bedroom, so I quickly dressed in the clothes I’d worn yesterday. When I came out to the living room, before I could say anything, he started talking.

  “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I didn’t realize you would get drunk so fast. But you have to believe me. Nothing happened. I told you before. You’ll have to give your eternal soul to me willingly. I can’t take it from you.”

  “You didn’t know I’d get drunk so fast? I thought you knew everything about me. Including the fact that I’m straight.”

  He dropped his eyes.

  All it took was that one little movement and pieces started falling into place.

  I gasped. “That was a gay bar we went to last night, wasn’t it? The Exit bar is a gay bar. Why would you take me there?”

  He stayed quiet. He didn’t look at me.

  “Those ugly girls were guys dressed up like girls! You really are a devil. You’re trying to lead me into temptation. All of that stuff about evil leading to good—it’s just more lies to get me to… to…. Well, I don’t know what. But it’s not going to work.”

  He never looked up, and I marched straight for the door. But I couldn’t leave without saying one more thing. And somehow I regretted the words before they even left my mouth.

  “You can go straight back to hell.”

  And then I walked out.

  I’D MISSED my morning classes, and I wouldn’t be going to my afternoon classes. Why was God testing me like this? Why was he always testing me like this? It seemed like it was always the same test. Every time a guy is nice to me and I think that I might have made a friend, something happens. Sure, some of the times it was that the nice guy just turned out to be a gay guy and I had to end the friendship.

  But most of the time it’s me. I don’t know when I’ve crossed the line until after it’s too late. I think I’m just being friendly, and the other guy thinks that I’m being gay. In the end I’m always left alone.

  It had been the same at home—five kids, but the rest were so much older they just seemed like more grown-ups to me. I never felt like I fit in anywhere, but I really wanted to fit in. Church was the only place where I felt like I really belonged.

  My plan had been to go to college and get a good steady job as an accountant. Everybody needs an accountant, and I’m good with numbers. They make sense. They aren’t like people. With a good job I can afford to get a wife and a house and raise a family. It’s everything that I’m supposed to do. And once I have a wife and a family, I won’t be messing up my friendships with guys. They’ll all know I’m married and straight and only want to be friends.

  The rest of the week dragged along. I kept expecting to see Marcello pop in out of nowhere—just to tempt me again. But he must have listened to me and gone straight back to hell. So why did I feel so miserable?

  On Saturday I went to confession. The line for Father Christopher was long as usual. And there was no line for Father Bramble. I’d come in early enough that I could have been the first one to see Father Christopher. But I couldn’t face him—even through a screen. He knew me, and my voice. I’d already said a hundred Hail Marys, but that wasn’t helping me to come up with anything to confess to him.

  Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I went to a gay bar, got drunk, and went home with the devil. Oh, but on the bright side I was dressed up like a slutty angel. That ought to count for something.

  The line for Father Christopher was gone. Father Bramble had long since come out of the confessional, and he didn’t even spare a glance at everyone still waiting for Father Christopher. Finally Father Christopher came out. He started to walk away, but instead he turned and came back to where I knelt in the pew.

  I knew that Father Christopher was young when I was an altar boy and Father Bramble was ancient. What I didn’t realize
at the time was that Father Christopher probably wasn’t much older than I am right now. He seemed so wise. Why couldn’t I be that wise now?

  “Bless you, my child,” he began before kneeling beside me. He said some silent prayer, crossed himself, and then sat back in the pew. That was a cue if ever I’d seen one. The only thing I’d been praying for was the words to say. They hadn’t come. Still, I made the sign of the cross, and then I sat back next to him.

  “I can see that you are very troubled, my child. Are you ready to talk about it and make your confession?”

  I couldn’t trust my words, and I only shook my head.

  “Gabriel, God asks you to confess your sins and seek his forgiveness. But he doesn’t put a timeline on you. You can only ask for his forgiveness once you’ve forgiven yourself. The Lord works in mysterious ways. Accept the mystery. Your answers lie just beyond.

  “I’ll see you at communion tomorrow.”

  Then he got up, genuflected at the end of the aisle, and left me every bit as confused as I was when I’d come in.

  ON MONDAY I was still trying to decide if Father Christopher had imparted some great wisdom or just dumped a big load of word salad on me. I skipped my first class. I never skipped classes. Missing this one class might drop my grade to a B, but I didn’t care. My life was already messed up.

  I stopped by the student union for a cup of coffee, and once I had my order, I looked around for an empty table where I could be alone with my thoughts. That’s when I saw him. Marcello sat alone at a quiet table under a tree. Was he even allowed to be out in the daylight? He wasn’t dressed like a devil. He was wearing a comfortable-looking red designer T-shirt and shorts, considering the heat. But the dark skin and hair along with his goatee still made him look like the devil I’d come to know.

  Just seeing him there made his words echo in my mind. From evil comes only good. Was it evil of me to skip my class? It sure wasn’t a good thing. Was seeing Marcello again a good thing? It shouldn’t have been, but I wanted to run to him and beg his forgiveness. That’s all I needed to confess on Saturday—telling someone whom I clearly cared about to go to hell. That was my real sin.