Contents ( 42)
- The Art of Breathing
- Part One: How We Became Who We Are
- Prologue: Or, Where the Kid Hears the Word of the Day
- 1. Where Tyson Learns to Breathe
- 2. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 3. Where Tyson Graduates and Bear Freaks Out
- 4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
- 5. Where Tyson Gets the Mail
- Part Two: Coming Home
- 6. Where Tyson Comes Home
- 7. Where Tyson Gives a History Lesson
- 8. Where Tyson Attends the Most Awkward Party Ever
- 9. Where Tyson Plans Attends a Protest
- 10. Where Tyson Gets Arrested
- 11. Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
- 12. Where Tyson Writes Bad Poetry and Gawks at Frat Boys
- 13. Where Tyson Decides to Man the Fuck Up
- 14. Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
- 15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
- 16. Where Tyson Learns the Benefit of Therapy
- 17. Where Tyson Meets the Man Who Becomes Helena Handbasket
- 18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
- Part Three: Just Breathe
- 19. Where Tyson Goes to Helena Handbasket’s Sex Dungeon
- 20. Where Tyson Beholds the Awesome Wonder That Is Paul Auster
- 21. Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
- 22. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
- 23. Where Tyson Hears the Inevitable
- 24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
- 25. Where Tyson Says Hello, Where Tyson Says Good-bye
- 26. Where Tyson Touches upon the Inevitable
- 27. Where Tyson Faces the Music
- 28. Where Tyson Breathes
- 29. Tyson And Dominic
- 30. The Art Of Breathing
- Epilogue: Or, Bear’s Perspective, As It Were (Yeah, He’s Gonna Freak)
- Author’s Note
- Excerpt
- Prologue: Or, Where Bear Answers the Door
- More from TJ Klune
- Readers love the Bear, Otter, and the Kid Chronicles by TJ Klune
- By TJ Klune
And then she enters the world.
There’s a flash of light. The crowd sighs. A nasty beat kicks up from the speakers all around us, and the spotlight zeroes in on the stage. The beat intensifies and thrums through me. A hand appears from behind the curtain, the nails long and sharp and bright red. People scream around me. The hand curls up and one finger extends and curls, telling us all, Come here. Come here and let’s get dirty.
The song explodes and the curtains part and Helena Handbasket writhes onto the stage, hair huge, costume glittery and tight and almost nonexistent (and from a purely scientific standpoint, I wonder just how it’s possible to create the illusion that you don’t have a dick, because that costume shows absolutely everything and reveals absolutely nothing). The lyrics start, a woman with a rough voice singing about fucking and touching and doing all those things you could only dream about. It’s obscene. It’s so wrong. And it’s absolutely magnificent.
Maybe I should see what happens with Minerva Fox, after all. But I don’t know if I’d be capable of tucking my dick that far back. I like it right where it’s at.
Helena moves amongst the crowd, gyrating up and down on pretty much everyone within reach. People hand her ones and tens and twenties, and she gives them sticky kisses on the cheek before reaching down and goosing them.
She goes on from one to the next, and how she can see anything is beyond me, with the spotlight on her face and the strobe lights flashing. She reaches the back wall, where a large man is standing, his face hidden in shadow. Her movements become stiff and jerky as she steps closer, and as the light slides up the wall, I see it’s Darren, the Homo Jock King, standing alone in the dark. He’s smiling quietly to himself, but then, as if he’s forgotten his place and who he is, a scowl quickly forms as Helena approaches him. She trails her hand along his arm, but there’s nothing sexual about this. He doesn’t give her money. She moves on.
And before the shadows cover him again, that quiet smile returns as he follows her every move. She doesn’t see it, of course.
But I do.
I pull on Dom’s arm to get his attention. He bends over, my mouth near his ear. That hand comes to my back again. I can smell him. Spicy. Warm. His cheek brushes against mine. Accidental. Maybe. I don’t know. Apparently I don’t know a lot of things. “I’ll be right back,” I say.
“Everything okay?” he rumbles, and I feel the words as well as hear them.
No. “Yeah,” I say. “Just going to talk to Darren.”
“What for?” he asks, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear there’s a hint of jealousy to his voice.
Ask him! it howls. Ask him right now! Say it! ARE YOU GAY? DO YOU WANT ME? DO YOU WANT TO FIND SOME BACKROOM AND FUCK OUR BRAINS OUT? ASK HIM, YOU GODDAMN PUSSY!