Teaser: Finding Trey

Chapter 1 – Pablo

“Trey.”

Trey awoke with a start. “We here?” he mumbled.

Pablo frowned and pulled the brim of his cap down on his forehead. It was a nervous habit, and Trey always made him nervous. It was strange – he’d seen a lot in his career as a cabbie, but nobody made him uncomfortable like Trey did. It wasn’t because he was a prostitute, or that he was often high or passed out by the time he got him to his destination – it was because when he wasn’t high, he was wonderful. He was special. But his choices brought him way down, lower than who he really was inside. He destroyed himself every night, and Pablo knew that if he carried on, his phoenix-like ability to rise up again the next day, even more magnificent than the day before, would one day fail him.

“Here, baby,” Trey slurred, waving a twenty over the divider.

“It’s only three ninety-five, Trey,” Pablo said firmly. “I’m not taking your money.

“But I have so many!” Trey fell back into the seat, his shiny red (and somewhat smudged) lipstick turning his smile into something less than sexy. “So many money!” he giggled as he swooned.

“You OK, Trey?”

He smiled on, now raising his fishnet-clad legs in a lascivious ‘V’ as he licked his lips, his eyes on Pablo’s in the rear-view mirror. His tiny denim shorts barely restrained parts of him that were certainly not female, though his clothing would seem to indicate otherwise.

“You’re gonna ruin my roof with those heels, Trey,” Pablo said calmly. He turned around, looked him in the eye. “Why do you do this?”

“Just wondering if you’ve changed your mind,” Trey laughed and lowered his legs, then swooped forward to kiss Pablo on the forehead. He smelled of sweat, but not his own.

“I’ve told you before, Trey; I’m not gay.”

“And I’ve told you before – “ Trey poked him gently on the tip of his nose, “ – that I’m not, either.

Pablo shook his head in confusion, then turned back to the steering wheel. “It don’t make no sense to me,” he said. He’d said it before. “But you do you, T.”

Trey laughed again, his smile revealing more smudging of the red lipstick, but on his teeth, this time.

“I hope you’re going home, ‘cuz it’d be a sorry soul who’d pick you up right now,” Pablo said, too tired to be gentle.

“Home,” Trey scoffed, then leaned forward again. “Besides, you’d be surprised what people want when they’re desperate.”

“I can only imagine,” Pablo said. “Now get out, bitch. I’m tired from waiting up for you.”

Trey’s laughter burst out of him, making Pablo smile reluctantly.

“Go!” he motioned to the door.

Trey threw his lean, but muscular arms around his neck. “Thank you, Pablo. You’re my only friend in the world, do you know that?”

“No, I don’t. Seems to me you got lots of friends.”

“But only you will wait up for me when I need someone to.”

“That’s just because I’m a sucker, and my overactive sense of guilt would kill me if anything happened to you.”

That earned him another kiss, this time on the cheek. He’d learn later that, knowing full-well that this type of attention would thoroughly distract his friend, Trey had slipped the twenty into his shirt pocket as he leaned further over the seat.

“Ugh!” Pablo protested, waving Trey off of him. “Get out!”

Trey laughed again, but it was less boisterous. Pablo knew this transition. He’d seen it a million times. Trey’s stomach was letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that he needed to sleep soon, or he’d be sick. “Thank you, P. Love you,” he said, the new tone to his voice bringing a noticeable pall to the atmosphere inside the car.

Pablo exhaled in relief as Trey opened the passenger-side back door, letting the incessant but somehow comforting sounds of the rain in. The cool air hit Pablo at the same time as he noticed Trey hugging his sweater around his tall, lean frame.

He was striking – even the most conservative observer would have to admit that. At just under six feet (six-three including his heels and six-eight including his outrageous afro), his tall, slim body wore anything like a model’s would. His broad, straight shoulders slightly challenged his efforts at feminism on nights like tonight, it was true, and everything else about him screamed for attention, and not in a negative way. He was beautiful, whether he was dressed as a woman or a man. It was HIM that shone through his clothes and his makeup. His refusal to let anyone take him down. His sense of humour. His fearless displays of who he was at the core: kind, fair, sad. And lost, too, oh yes, that was on display at all times.

Trey leaned back into the front passenger-side window. “You working tomorrow night?” The exhaustion in his eyes was showing through the glamour all over his face.

Pablo nodded. “Take care of yourself, Trey.”

“Why?” the man called back, for he was already sashaying away, swinging his silver-sequined jacket over his shoulder and humming loudly, but tunelessly.

“Because – “ Pablo growled in frustration. “Argh, you know why!” He put the car in reverse. “Crazy, wild, bitch-boy,” he muttered, shaking his head. “He’s gonna get himself killed.”

Pablo’s intentions were innocent. After all, who wouldn’t be frustrated at having to witness the slow downfall of a good person? And all self-inflicted?

But he was wrong, too. Trey wasn’t going to let this life kill him, and in fact, he’d save many others before he was done with it. He just didn’t know it yet.