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ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the June 4, 2019 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from erulisse, readera, zeeth_kyrah, zianuray, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rix_scaedu. It also fills the "Talk to someone who's new" square in my 6-1-19 card for the Cottoncandy Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by fuzzyred and ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. This is part of a set telling how Shiv came to join the Ebonies & Ivories; it comes after "The Smallest Decisions," "If You Don't Stick Up for Them," and 'Getting Close to a New Guy" and before "Work Worth Doing."
WARNING: This poem contains intense and controversial topics that may disturb some readers. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes telepathic spillover of pain, the aftermath of a bad beating, which is child abuse because Shiv is under 18 here, hiding injuries, recruitment into a gang, come-here-go-away, various uses of superpowers, strong receptivity to telepathy with very mixed results, deception, emotional trauma, flashbacks, bad tape, resistance to help, touch aversion, references to past abuse, wild defiance, Brown getting stuck with first aid duty beyond his skill because Shiv won't tolerate a hospital, messy medical details, Shiv attempting to work while injured, and flatly refusing to rest, so Boss White finally knocks him out with telepathy, sexual assault triggers, and other angst. This is the main comfort part after the hurt part of the set. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before deciding whether this is something you want to read. It's a major part of Shiv's history and would leave a gap, but the gist has been mentioned in other poems.
"The Supreme Quality for Leadership"
[Monday, April 9, 2012]
The basement of Blues Moon
was quiet, Monday being
the slowest day of the week.
Boss White stretched, trying
to shrug off the growing ache
that spread over his back.
Then he realized it wasn't his.
Boss White reached out
and found the source of it,
unfamiliar but coming closer.
The office door opened, and
his secretary Dymin spoke
to the guests who came in.
Then Brown Bottle headed
for the back of the room
and Boss White's desk
with a new boy in tow.
It had been raining
for about half the day,
a thin chilly drizzle that
dampened body and spirit.
Both of them had wet hair, and
although their clothes were not
soaked through, they still shivered.
The new boy reminded him of
a feral kitten, rail-thin and wary.
Black clothes contrasted with
pale skin and white-blond hair,
blue eyes peeking out through
the ragged fringe of his bangs.
Someone had beat the tar
out of him, and this close,
his pain burned like a beacon.
He hid it well, though --
a casual glance might have
mistaken the boy for fine.
Boss White could see how
the injuries slowed him down,
a heaviness in his step at odds
with someone so small and light.
"What's up, Brown Bottle?"
Boss White asked, frowning.
We need your help, boss,
Brown Bottle said silently.
I'm on it, the boss replied.
"This is Shiv," said Brown Bottle.
"We met at the bus station. He
just got in from Lincoln. I reckon
that he could fit right in here."
Boss White looked the boy over.
Shiv seemed a likely thief
and a fast runner; it remained
to be seen if he was any good
in a restaurant and jazz joint.
He was wary, but he didn't
have the wall-eyed look of
a bigot in a black business.
Then Boss White felt something
shiver over him, subtly stirring
the coins in his pocket and
the knives in their sheaths.
Surprised by the touch,
his eyebrows went up.
Brown Bottle gave him
a small nod, confirming
that Shiv had superpowers.
Wasn't that interesting.
Well, they couldn't let Shiv
rattle around loose like that.
Boss White preferred to keep
an eye on the local talent
as much as he could.
"Welcome to Blues Moon,"
he said. "I'm Boss White. I run
the Ebonies & Ivories, and I hold
the Greater Omaha Area."
"I've heard of you," Shiv said,
nibbling his lip. "Good gang."
"I do my best to keep it that way,"
Boss White said. "If you're still
interested, I'll want to shake hands
and get to know you some."
"How?" Shiv wondered.
"I'm a telepath," Boss White said.
"I can get a feel for your mind by
touching you. I won't pry -- I don't go
where I'm not wanted -- but I'll see
your surface thoughts and personality."
"That's gonna suck," Shiv said,
shaking his head. "I mean for you.
I don't mind, but I'm kind of a mess."
"You wouldn't be the first one,"
Boss White said, coming around
his desk. "Sweet kids don't end up
in gangs." He held out a hand.
Shiv hesitated, and Boss White
caught an edge of concern.
Then the boy reached out
and clasped his hand.
Boss White swept across
the surface clutter, searching
for something informative.
Shiv was grateful to be inside
out of the raw spring weather,
anxious about their meeting, and
determined to make a good impression.
Boss White ran a mental hand over
him, pressing a little firmer to gauge
his reaction to telepathic contact.
Shiv's eyes fluttered shut, and
then he swayed on his feet,
leaning into the touch.
Wasn't that interesting.
The next thing Boss White knew,
the boy was trying to crawl inside
his mind, like a drenched kitten
trying to get underneath his sweater,
all bottle-brush tail and fishhook claws.
Shiv slumped forward, and Boss White
caught him under the arms, careful
to avoid the injuries on his back.
"All right, I've got you," the boss said.
"Come sit down on the couch."
"Wh-what --" Shiv stuttered.
He collapsed onto the cushions.
"It's okay," said Boss White.
"I reckon you liked that.
Most people don't."
"Why the hell not?"
Shiv said, staring.
"It's so warm and soft.
I think I heard music?"
"I play saxophone,"
Boss White explained.
"You may be a mess, yeah,
but you're a sensitive little thing."
Shiv grimaced. "You don't
gotta rub it in," he muttered.
stop fussing ... whiny little brat ...
can't you do anything but complain?
The memories howled through
Boss White's mind until he
swiped them all away.
Shiv's jaw dropped.
"You made it stop,"
he whispered. "Now
how the hell'd you do that?"
"Superpowers," Boss White said.
"I've just shown you mine. Will
you show me yours now?"
"Yeah, um, but ..." Shiv
turned to Brown Bottle.
"Can I have my knife back?
I need it to do what he asked."
Brown Bottle handed it over,
trusting Boss White to keep
a lid on things if needed.
Shiv flicked his hand to open
the spring-assist knife, blade and
handle flashing silver in the light.
He tossed it in the air --
and it hung there, spinning
slowly in the grip of his power.
There's more, Brown Bottle hinted.
"That's a start," Boss White said.
"What else can you do with it?"
Shiv looked around. "You got
anything you don't care about?"
Boss White brought out
last year's phonebook.
"Will this do?" he said.
"Perfect," Shiv said.
Then he put his knife
clean through the thing.
Wasn't that interesting.
"Impressive," Boss White said,
and the boy's mind flared into
static as he tried to lean in and
pull away at the same time.
"How old are you now?"
Shiv looked down. "Old enough
to be on my own," he insisted.
Boss White chucked him briskly
under the chin. "None of that, now,"
he said. "You don't lie to me, Shiv.
I can feel it, and it damn well itches."
"Sorry," Shiv said, ducking his head.
"I'm seventeen, eighteen in August."
"That's not a barrier, just something
I need to know so I can account
for it," Boss White assured him.
"What gang work do you do?"
"I'm good in a fight," Shiv said.
"I can steal stuff, run messages ..."
Boss White hadn't taken him
for muscle, but Shiv's superpowers
certainly supported that position.
"Then will you let me take a look at
those qualifications?" Boss White said.
"Sure," Shiv said, opening himself to it.
Boss White looked deeper this time,
now that he had a real invitation.
Underneath the surface clutter,
the core of Shiv's mind was
sharp and bright as steel.
There was a lot of damage,
likely from a bad past, but that
didn't stop Shiv from getting by.
He'd make a good lieutenant,
some day, maybe even a boss
if he lived long enough to grow into
the potential that Boss White sensed.
"You feel so ... solid inside,"
Shiv whispered. "Everyone else
is like the pieces in a shell game,
and it's hard to tell what they're hiding."
"The supreme quality for leadership is
unquestionably integrity," Boss White said.
"Without it, no real success is possible,
no matter whether it is in a gang,
a football team, or an office."
"That's not what I seen,"
Shiv said, his mind ablaze
with the memory of Boss Batir.
The swish and smack of leather
echoed in his thoughts, making
him scrunch smaller, then flinch
as the motion hurt his back.
In that moment, Boss White
realized how badly he was injured.
He debated moving the boy to
the patch room, but Shiv was
so skittish that he wasn't even
sitting all the way on the couch.
"Brown, check his back,"
Boss White ordered.
A light touch revealed
the first obstacle.
"His shirt's stuck to
his skin, so we'll have
to soak it off before we can
do more," said Brown Bottle.
Sure enough, Shiv hissed and
jerked away. "I'm fine!" he said.
Boss White gave him a look.
"What'd I tell you about lying?"
"Not to do it," Shiv said, slumping.
"But nobody wants to hear me
when I say what I really mean."
"Shiv, I'm a telepath," Boss White said.
"I'll always hear what you really mean --
whether either of us like it or not."
"Brown, go get a first aid kit,"
said Boss White. "Let's get him
cleaned up as best we can."
"On it, boss," said Brown,
hurrying out of the office.
"I don't mean to be a bother,"
Shiv said. "I came here
looking for work and maybe
a flop, not for handouts."
"It's not a handout, this is
how I take care of my crew,"
Boss White said. "Best get
used to it, if you're staying."
Static buzzed in the boy's mind,
doing that come-here-go-away thing.
Someone, somewhere, had given
Shiv stuff with strings attached,
and that hadn't ended well.
Boss White gave him the space
to settle himself down some,
and Shiv slowly relaxed again.
Brown Bottle came back with
the first aid kit and a wet towel.
He draped the towel over
Shiv's back, making the boy
take a long shuddering breath.
Even after soaking, his shirt
clung to his skin, fused
with the scabs over
the worst injuries.
When Brown Bottle
started gently working it
loose, Shiv whimpered.
"Come here," said Boss White.
"I can take the edge off the pain."
He wasn't a healer, but he could
tell Shiv's mind to ignore his body.
Shiv leaned against his shoulder,
shaking from pain and exhaustion,
still trying to put on a good face.
Boss White cupped the back of
his neck, offering silent comfort.
"Son of a bitch," Brown snapped
as the cloth finally came off.
Looking down, Boss White
saw that the boy's back was
black and blue from neck to
waist. Thin cuts criss-crossed
the skin, dotted with ugly rips.
The last time Boss White had seen
something like that, it had been in
a history book, and not on a white boy.
"This is above my pay grade," Brown said,
shaking his head. "The skin's stuck together
all wrong. These needed stitches hours ago.
We'll have to take him to a hospital so that
they can reopen the cuts and then --"
"No!" Shiv jerked away so violently
that he almost fell off the couch.
"Easy, I've got you," Boss White said,
catching him. "Sit back down now."
"I'm not going!" Shiv said, wild
with rage and fear and fresh pain.
Trying to force that boy into
a hospital would be about as
safe as swinging a cat by the tail.
"It's your hide, so you can say no,"
Boss White assured him. "But you're
no use to anyone if you fall on your face.
That means sit your ass down and
let Brown Bottle do what he can."
Sorry, Brown, but he's not going
to let you hand him off to anyone else,
Boss White added silently. Just do
your best and we'll pray it's enough.
Brown nodded. "I'll get to it."
Shiv was barely willing to let
Brown behind him, to say nothing
of patching up the mess on his back.
"Come here," Boss White said,
beckoning Shiv to lean on him again.
The boy was still skittish as hell, but he
came when called, and Boss White pulled
him over to rest against his shoulder.
"Settle down now, and think of
something nice," Boss White said.
"I don't have nice memories,"
Shiv said, stiffening in protest.
"Then I'll share one of mine,"
Boss White said. "Listen."
He brought up a memory of
smooth jazz, low and soothing,
that made Shiv melt into him.
Go ahead, he sent to Brown.
It took a while to clean up
the ugly injuries, because
the skin was rumpled and
some of the scabs had
come off when soaked.
Boss White could see
where the flat of the belt left
wide bruises and narrow cuts.
In several places, the buckle
had torn into the tender skin,
leaving ragged lacerations.
Shiv flinched now and then
when Brown scrubbed at
the deeper wounds trying
to make sure there wasn't
any crud trapped in there,
but he didn't try to pull away.
Boss White hummed along with
the memory of jazz, sheltering Shiv
from as much of the messy process
as he could manage. It helped.
"Almost through," Brown said,
coating the now-clean injuries
with something that would
hopefully prevent infection.
Shiv sighed, his mind
stropping itself against
Boss White like a cat
demanding to be petted.
Boss White obliged with
a mental caress, and Shiv
endured the medication.
Finally Brown bandaged
the wounds and said,
"All right, you're done."
Shiv sat up and asked,
"What's my first assignment?"
They both stared at him.
"We'll get to that tomorrow,"
Boss White said. "For now,
your job is to get some sleep."
"I can do my work!" Shiv snapped.
"You don't gotta coddle me."
It was like dealing with a cat
that rolled over so you could
rub his tummy, and then tried
to rip your arm off when you did it.
"It's not coddling to give you
time to recover from a bad beating,"
Boss White said. "Around here,
that's business as usual."
Shiv flinched away from him.
"I'm used to it, I can handle."
Boss White knew damn well
that Boss Batir used brute force
to discipline his boys, which was
no kind of a good idea, but that
was an argument for later too.
They'd just have to arrange
for some inconveniences
to happen in Lincoln. No way
would they let this shit slide.
"If you want to work here, then
you mind me," Boss White said.
"Then let me work," Shiv said.
"I may not be good for much now,
but I can still mop floors, or --"
"I have had enough of this,"
Boss White said, worried that
the boy would hurt himself
even worse. "Go to sleep."
He backed the command
with the lightest touch of power.
Shiv went limp, collapsing so fast
that Boss White had to scramble
to keep him from falling off the couch.
"Boss? Is he okay?" Brown said, worried.
He helped Boss White rearrange Shiv into
a more stable position. "Did he pass out
on us, or what? I thought that he
only lost a pint or so of blood."
"I put him to sleep," Boss White said.
"He's fine, he just went down so fast,
I wasn't ready for that. I thought that
he'd fight me, most everyone does."
"He's an odd one," Brown Bottle agreed.
"Come-here-go-away kind, if you take
my meaning. He was like that at
the bus station when we met."
"Well, put him in the guest room
for tonight, and we'll worry about
the rest tomorrow," Boss White said.
"Okay," Brown Bottle said. "I'll loosen
the rest of his clothes and take off
his shoes to make him comfortable --"
"No," Boss White said. "Leave
everything exactly as it is now."
Brown Bottle frowned at the jeans.
"He'll be awful uncomfortable in
the morning if he sleeps like that."
"Ayup, but he'll feel safer,"
Boss White explained. "Don't
touch his belt, his jeans, his shoes,
or anything else. Leave him be.
Just put him in bed on his belly,
and pack the pillows so he can
breathe but can't roll over."
"Yes, sir," said Brown Bottle.
He slung Shiv gently over
his shoulder and left.
Boss White leaned back
into his black leather couch and
wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Whatever it was, he felt sure
that it would be interesting.
* * *
Notes:
This poem runs long, so the notes will appear elsewhere.
erulisse, readera, zeeth_kyrah, zianuray, and rix_scaedu. It also fills the "Talk to someone who's new" square in my 6-1-19 card for the Cottoncandy Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by fuzzyred and ng_moonmoth. It belongs to the Shiv thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. This is part of a set telling how Shiv came to join the Ebonies & Ivories; it comes after "The Smallest Decisions," "If You Don't Stick Up for Them," and 'Getting Close to a New Guy" and before "Work Worth Doing."WARNING: This poem contains intense and controversial topics that may disturb some readers. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes telepathic spillover of pain, the aftermath of a bad beating, which is child abuse because Shiv is under 18 here, hiding injuries, recruitment into a gang, come-here-go-away, various uses of superpowers, strong receptivity to telepathy with very mixed results, deception, emotional trauma, flashbacks, bad tape, resistance to help, touch aversion, references to past abuse, wild defiance, Brown getting stuck with first aid duty beyond his skill because Shiv won't tolerate a hospital, messy medical details, Shiv attempting to work while injured, and flatly refusing to rest, so Boss White finally knocks him out with telepathy, sexual assault triggers, and other angst. This is the main comfort part after the hurt part of the set. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before deciding whether this is something you want to read. It's a major part of Shiv's history and would leave a gap, but the gist has been mentioned in other poems.
"The Supreme Quality for Leadership"
[Monday, April 9, 2012]
The basement of Blues Moon
was quiet, Monday being
the slowest day of the week.
Boss White stretched, trying
to shrug off the growing ache
that spread over his back.
Then he realized it wasn't his.
Boss White reached out
and found the source of it,
unfamiliar but coming closer.
The office door opened, and
his secretary Dymin spoke
to the guests who came in.
Then Brown Bottle headed
for the back of the room
and Boss White's desk
with a new boy in tow.
It had been raining
for about half the day,
a thin chilly drizzle that
dampened body and spirit.
Both of them had wet hair, and
although their clothes were not
soaked through, they still shivered.
The new boy reminded him of
a feral kitten, rail-thin and wary.
Black clothes contrasted with
pale skin and white-blond hair,
blue eyes peeking out through
the ragged fringe of his bangs.
Someone had beat the tar
out of him, and this close,
his pain burned like a beacon.
He hid it well, though --
a casual glance might have
mistaken the boy for fine.
Boss White could see how
the injuries slowed him down,
a heaviness in his step at odds
with someone so small and light.
"What's up, Brown Bottle?"
Boss White asked, frowning.
We need your help, boss,
Brown Bottle said silently.
I'm on it, the boss replied.
"This is Shiv," said Brown Bottle.
"We met at the bus station. He
just got in from Lincoln. I reckon
that he could fit right in here."
Boss White looked the boy over.
Shiv seemed a likely thief
and a fast runner; it remained
to be seen if he was any good
in a restaurant and jazz joint.
He was wary, but he didn't
have the wall-eyed look of
a bigot in a black business.
Then Boss White felt something
shiver over him, subtly stirring
the coins in his pocket and
the knives in their sheaths.
Surprised by the touch,
his eyebrows went up.
Brown Bottle gave him
a small nod, confirming
that Shiv had superpowers.
Wasn't that interesting.
Well, they couldn't let Shiv
rattle around loose like that.
Boss White preferred to keep
an eye on the local talent
as much as he could.
"Welcome to Blues Moon,"
he said. "I'm Boss White. I run
the Ebonies & Ivories, and I hold
the Greater Omaha Area."
"I've heard of you," Shiv said,
nibbling his lip. "Good gang."
"I do my best to keep it that way,"
Boss White said. "If you're still
interested, I'll want to shake hands
and get to know you some."
"How?" Shiv wondered.
"I'm a telepath," Boss White said.
"I can get a feel for your mind by
touching you. I won't pry -- I don't go
where I'm not wanted -- but I'll see
your surface thoughts and personality."
"That's gonna suck," Shiv said,
shaking his head. "I mean for you.
I don't mind, but I'm kind of a mess."
"You wouldn't be the first one,"
Boss White said, coming around
his desk. "Sweet kids don't end up
in gangs." He held out a hand.
Shiv hesitated, and Boss White
caught an edge of concern.
Then the boy reached out
and clasped his hand.
Boss White swept across
the surface clutter, searching
for something informative.
Shiv was grateful to be inside
out of the raw spring weather,
anxious about their meeting, and
determined to make a good impression.
Boss White ran a mental hand over
him, pressing a little firmer to gauge
his reaction to telepathic contact.
Shiv's eyes fluttered shut, and
then he swayed on his feet,
leaning into the touch.
Wasn't that interesting.
The next thing Boss White knew,
the boy was trying to crawl inside
his mind, like a drenched kitten
trying to get underneath his sweater,
all bottle-brush tail and fishhook claws.
Shiv slumped forward, and Boss White
caught him under the arms, careful
to avoid the injuries on his back.
"All right, I've got you," the boss said.
"Come sit down on the couch."
"Wh-what --" Shiv stuttered.
He collapsed onto the cushions.
"It's okay," said Boss White.
"I reckon you liked that.
Most people don't."
"Why the hell not?"
Shiv said, staring.
"It's so warm and soft.
I think I heard music?"
"I play saxophone,"
Boss White explained.
"You may be a mess, yeah,
but you're a sensitive little thing."
Shiv grimaced. "You don't
gotta rub it in," he muttered.
stop fussing ... whiny little brat ...
can't you do anything but complain?
The memories howled through
Boss White's mind until he
swiped them all away.
Shiv's jaw dropped.
"You made it stop,"
he whispered. "Now
how the hell'd you do that?"
"Superpowers," Boss White said.
"I've just shown you mine. Will
you show me yours now?"
"Yeah, um, but ..." Shiv
turned to Brown Bottle.
"Can I have my knife back?
I need it to do what he asked."
Brown Bottle handed it over,
trusting Boss White to keep
a lid on things if needed.
Shiv flicked his hand to open
the spring-assist knife, blade and
handle flashing silver in the light.
He tossed it in the air --
and it hung there, spinning
slowly in the grip of his power.
There's more, Brown Bottle hinted.
"That's a start," Boss White said.
"What else can you do with it?"
Shiv looked around. "You got
anything you don't care about?"
Boss White brought out
last year's phonebook.
"Will this do?" he said.
"Perfect," Shiv said.
Then he put his knife
clean through the thing.
Wasn't that interesting.
"Impressive," Boss White said,
and the boy's mind flared into
static as he tried to lean in and
pull away at the same time.
"How old are you now?"
Shiv looked down. "Old enough
to be on my own," he insisted.
Boss White chucked him briskly
under the chin. "None of that, now,"
he said. "You don't lie to me, Shiv.
I can feel it, and it damn well itches."
"Sorry," Shiv said, ducking his head.
"I'm seventeen, eighteen in August."
"That's not a barrier, just something
I need to know so I can account
for it," Boss White assured him.
"What gang work do you do?"
"I'm good in a fight," Shiv said.
"I can steal stuff, run messages ..."
Boss White hadn't taken him
for muscle, but Shiv's superpowers
certainly supported that position.
"Then will you let me take a look at
those qualifications?" Boss White said.
"Sure," Shiv said, opening himself to it.
Boss White looked deeper this time,
now that he had a real invitation.
Underneath the surface clutter,
the core of Shiv's mind was
sharp and bright as steel.
There was a lot of damage,
likely from a bad past, but that
didn't stop Shiv from getting by.
He'd make a good lieutenant,
some day, maybe even a boss
if he lived long enough to grow into
the potential that Boss White sensed.
"You feel so ... solid inside,"
Shiv whispered. "Everyone else
is like the pieces in a shell game,
and it's hard to tell what they're hiding."
"The supreme quality for leadership is
unquestionably integrity," Boss White said.
"Without it, no real success is possible,
no matter whether it is in a gang,
a football team, or an office."
"That's not what I seen,"
Shiv said, his mind ablaze
with the memory of Boss Batir.
The swish and smack of leather
echoed in his thoughts, making
him scrunch smaller, then flinch
as the motion hurt his back.
In that moment, Boss White
realized how badly he was injured.
He debated moving the boy to
the patch room, but Shiv was
so skittish that he wasn't even
sitting all the way on the couch.
"Brown, check his back,"
Boss White ordered.
A light touch revealed
the first obstacle.
"His shirt's stuck to
his skin, so we'll have
to soak it off before we can
do more," said Brown Bottle.
Sure enough, Shiv hissed and
jerked away. "I'm fine!" he said.
Boss White gave him a look.
"What'd I tell you about lying?"
"Not to do it," Shiv said, slumping.
"But nobody wants to hear me
when I say what I really mean."
"Shiv, I'm a telepath," Boss White said.
"I'll always hear what you really mean --
whether either of us like it or not."
"Brown, go get a first aid kit,"
said Boss White. "Let's get him
cleaned up as best we can."
"On it, boss," said Brown,
hurrying out of the office.
"I don't mean to be a bother,"
Shiv said. "I came here
looking for work and maybe
a flop, not for handouts."
"It's not a handout, this is
how I take care of my crew,"
Boss White said. "Best get
used to it, if you're staying."
Static buzzed in the boy's mind,
doing that come-here-go-away thing.
Someone, somewhere, had given
Shiv stuff with strings attached,
and that hadn't ended well.
Boss White gave him the space
to settle himself down some,
and Shiv slowly relaxed again.
Brown Bottle came back with
the first aid kit and a wet towel.
He draped the towel over
Shiv's back, making the boy
take a long shuddering breath.
Even after soaking, his shirt
clung to his skin, fused
with the scabs over
the worst injuries.
When Brown Bottle
started gently working it
loose, Shiv whimpered.
"Come here," said Boss White.
"I can take the edge off the pain."
He wasn't a healer, but he could
tell Shiv's mind to ignore his body.
Shiv leaned against his shoulder,
shaking from pain and exhaustion,
still trying to put on a good face.
Boss White cupped the back of
his neck, offering silent comfort.
"Son of a bitch," Brown snapped
as the cloth finally came off.
Looking down, Boss White
saw that the boy's back was
black and blue from neck to
waist. Thin cuts criss-crossed
the skin, dotted with ugly rips.
The last time Boss White had seen
something like that, it had been in
a history book, and not on a white boy.
"This is above my pay grade," Brown said,
shaking his head. "The skin's stuck together
all wrong. These needed stitches hours ago.
We'll have to take him to a hospital so that
they can reopen the cuts and then --"
"No!" Shiv jerked away so violently
that he almost fell off the couch.
"Easy, I've got you," Boss White said,
catching him. "Sit back down now."
"I'm not going!" Shiv said, wild
with rage and fear and fresh pain.
Trying to force that boy into
a hospital would be about as
safe as swinging a cat by the tail.
"It's your hide, so you can say no,"
Boss White assured him. "But you're
no use to anyone if you fall on your face.
That means sit your ass down and
let Brown Bottle do what he can."
Sorry, Brown, but he's not going
to let you hand him off to anyone else,
Boss White added silently. Just do
your best and we'll pray it's enough.
Brown nodded. "I'll get to it."
Shiv was barely willing to let
Brown behind him, to say nothing
of patching up the mess on his back.
"Come here," Boss White said,
beckoning Shiv to lean on him again.
The boy was still skittish as hell, but he
came when called, and Boss White pulled
him over to rest against his shoulder.
"Settle down now, and think of
something nice," Boss White said.
"I don't have nice memories,"
Shiv said, stiffening in protest.
"Then I'll share one of mine,"
Boss White said. "Listen."
He brought up a memory of
smooth jazz, low and soothing,
that made Shiv melt into him.
Go ahead, he sent to Brown.
It took a while to clean up
the ugly injuries, because
the skin was rumpled and
some of the scabs had
come off when soaked.
Boss White could see
where the flat of the belt left
wide bruises and narrow cuts.
In several places, the buckle
had torn into the tender skin,
leaving ragged lacerations.
Shiv flinched now and then
when Brown scrubbed at
the deeper wounds trying
to make sure there wasn't
any crud trapped in there,
but he didn't try to pull away.
Boss White hummed along with
the memory of jazz, sheltering Shiv
from as much of the messy process
as he could manage. It helped.
"Almost through," Brown said,
coating the now-clean injuries
with something that would
hopefully prevent infection.
Shiv sighed, his mind
stropping itself against
Boss White like a cat
demanding to be petted.
Boss White obliged with
a mental caress, and Shiv
endured the medication.
Finally Brown bandaged
the wounds and said,
"All right, you're done."
Shiv sat up and asked,
"What's my first assignment?"
They both stared at him.
"We'll get to that tomorrow,"
Boss White said. "For now,
your job is to get some sleep."
"I can do my work!" Shiv snapped.
"You don't gotta coddle me."
It was like dealing with a cat
that rolled over so you could
rub his tummy, and then tried
to rip your arm off when you did it.
"It's not coddling to give you
time to recover from a bad beating,"
Boss White said. "Around here,
that's business as usual."
Shiv flinched away from him.
"I'm used to it, I can handle."
Boss White knew damn well
that Boss Batir used brute force
to discipline his boys, which was
no kind of a good idea, but that
was an argument for later too.
They'd just have to arrange
for some inconveniences
to happen in Lincoln. No way
would they let this shit slide.
"If you want to work here, then
you mind me," Boss White said.
"Then let me work," Shiv said.
"I may not be good for much now,
but I can still mop floors, or --"
"I have had enough of this,"
Boss White said, worried that
the boy would hurt himself
even worse. "Go to sleep."
He backed the command
with the lightest touch of power.
Shiv went limp, collapsing so fast
that Boss White had to scramble
to keep him from falling off the couch.
"Boss? Is he okay?" Brown said, worried.
He helped Boss White rearrange Shiv into
a more stable position. "Did he pass out
on us, or what? I thought that he
only lost a pint or so of blood."
"I put him to sleep," Boss White said.
"He's fine, he just went down so fast,
I wasn't ready for that. I thought that
he'd fight me, most everyone does."
"He's an odd one," Brown Bottle agreed.
"Come-here-go-away kind, if you take
my meaning. He was like that at
the bus station when we met."
"Well, put him in the guest room
for tonight, and we'll worry about
the rest tomorrow," Boss White said.
"Okay," Brown Bottle said. "I'll loosen
the rest of his clothes and take off
his shoes to make him comfortable --"
"No," Boss White said. "Leave
everything exactly as it is now."
Brown Bottle frowned at the jeans.
"He'll be awful uncomfortable in
the morning if he sleeps like that."
"Ayup, but he'll feel safer,"
Boss White explained. "Don't
touch his belt, his jeans, his shoes,
or anything else. Leave him be.
Just put him in bed on his belly,
and pack the pillows so he can
breathe but can't roll over."
"Yes, sir," said Brown Bottle.
He slung Shiv gently over
his shoulder and left.
Boss White leaned back
into his black leather couch and
wondered what tomorrow would bring.
Whatever it was, he felt sure
that it would be interesting.
* * *
Notes:
This poem runs long, so the notes will appear elsewhere.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-12-25 02:27 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Date: 2019-12-26 11:22 am (UTC)