(by Edward Zeusgany and Alex Anders, copyright 1999, all rights reserved)

In the third decade of the seventeenth century, the Pilgrims proved that it was possible to make a living in New England, to the extent that Puritans settled most of the coast line in the fourth decade. On a poor stretch of rocky shore, called Ompscut by the natives, the first Styles built a hut and a boat, and through subsistence fishing under difficult conditions gave his name to a family and to the beach. He achieved all this because he was big, tough, mean and stupid.

These traits were passed for hundreds of years in an unbroken line to Billy Styles. As Billy grew the other children soon learned to give him a wide berth. At school, it was easier for the girls to stay away, he wasn’t about to use their bathroom. Ordinary boys, at the first sight of Billy, looked for a group of other kids to join. Billy didn’t like to take on two at a time, and he didn’t like witnesses for that matter. Weaker or unpopular boys headed for the nearest adult, since they might be considered fair game by their contemporaries. Only the biggest, roughest boys would allow themselves to be alone with Billy, and they were careful. Billy’s aversion to a fair fight was coupled with a disinclination to fight fairly.

The resultant isolation did not improve his disposition. He had a brief success in high school as a starting defensive end on the football team. Billy wasn’t much use on offense because he wouldn’t learn the plays. He hated taking orders and despised practice. For a while, though, the team was feared for its ruthless defense. Then the other teams learned not to run to his side of the field or attempt long passes. Billy got frustrated and the penalties no longer outweighed his contribution. The coach deliberately got him angry enough to quit the team in a fit of rage.

He was graduated from high school with his age group. No one wanted Billy to repeat a grade. The few jobs he found, he quickly lost. Billy wasn’t punctual and wouldn’t perform work as instructed. So he had a lot of time on his hands. This he spent wandering around town and noticing things, such as, in what driveways could he find expensive cars parked and on what evenings could those same driveways be expected to be empty and for how long.

He found that it was usually easy to enter the basement of one of these homes from a back or side window. The sound of a little breaking glass could easily be the incidental noise of trash removal. No one noticed. The door to the floor above, if locked, would yield to Billy’s shoulder or to one of the tools that were kept in the cellar.

Billy headed for the bedroom, where he looked for the velvet covered boxes that might contain good jewelry. Usually, he would pause to urinate onto the bed. In the dining room he would collect the sterling in a black pillow case that he used as a sack. Billy knew a man in the small, nearby city who would give him cash for these items. He knew that electronics could be sold, but he didn’t have a contact and they were bulky.

In the kitchen he might open a bag of potato chips and munch a few, then crush the bag under foot and give it a kick. If there was ice cream in the freezer, he would eat some of that and throw the remainder against a wall. These people thought they were better than he and Billy felt they deserved what they got. Then he would depart through the back door, not bothering to close it.

It was the nature of the gratuitous vandalism that helped the police narrow their list of suspects for the rash of burglaries. They were on the watch for Billy. One night, a patrol car spotted Billy’s car parked in one of the better residential neighborhoods. The officers checked on nearby houses without lights. They went to the back and looked for a broken basement window. Finding one at the second house, they waited in the shrubbery near the kitchen door. They were not disappointed when Billy fought to escape arrest.

Billy decided not to inform on his fence, and the judge, after listening to the character witnesses, decided to reward him with seven years at the facility for youthful offenders. He served three and one half and was released on probation.

*****

Billy returned to his home town and was employed by the town highway department. They had an unwritten policy to accept local youths who had been in trouble. Ex-offenders were likely to be more trouble if unemployed and it was a good way to keep an eye on them. The other men and supervisors understood these young adults and weren’t bothered by their language or intimidated by their demeanor.

It was hard labor at low wages, but Billy didn’t have other options. He arrived on time and did his work as well as anyone. As the months went by without incident, people began to think that he had learned his lesson. In fact, he had learned several lessons.

It was the evenings that were difficult for Billy, he was at loose ends. Some nights he went to the weight room at the YMCA. There was a weightlifting club of mostly high school boys, some of whom entered competitions. But most of the kids worked out sporadically. Billy did not follow a work out program, although he had some rough technique. Rather, he wanted to see for himself how much he could lift and impress others. He could hoist 225 pounds overhead, which was more than anyone else there, except for the coach of the club, who could lift that much with ease and was a much smaller person.

He spent some of his free time at the bar his coworkers preferred. Unfortunately he had already heard everything they had to say and the expense of drinking regularly at a bar was beyond his income. Even the ugliest and loudest women there were available only at some expense. The other bars cost more and didn’t make Billy feel welcome. More often than not he just “hung out” on the street, waiting and watching for whatever might present itself..

*****

One Saturday night he paid a visit to the local bowling lanes. All of the allies were being used by groups of two or more. There were others waiting for their turn, not that it mattered to Billy, who was not about to spend very hard earned money to throw the small ball at the skinny candlepins. And there were others just watching or hoping some people they knew would appear and invite then to join their party.

Billy spotted Rick, a boy from the weightlifting group, standing off to one side by himself. Rick lifted weights mostly, he said, to improve his performance in cross country running. That was his sport and he was on the high school team. He was built like a distance runner; medium height for fifteen, sinewy. Step by step, Billy worked his gradual way over to the post against which the kid was leaning.

“What’s going on?” Billy inquired.

“Nothing,” Rick answered. Rick did not move away. The boy had entered high school after Billy had already left. He knew that Billy had been in jail for theft, but he didn’t know anything else about him; except, of course, what he had observed at the Y.

They stood there for a while in silence. “This place is a bore,” Billy observed. “I’m going to get myself a six-pack. You care for a beer?”

High school boys fantasize about downing a few beers, but seldom get the chance. “Sure,” Rick answered.

Rick waited outside the package store while Billy made the purchase. Outside, Billy said, “We’ll drink at my place. I don’t want anyone seeing me giving a can of beer to a kid.” Rick followed Billy to his studio apartment, a short walk away.

It was on the second floor above a small hardware store. Originally the owner’s apartment, it had occupied that entire level. Business improved, the owner bought a house, moved the storage area upstairs in order to have more display space, and consolidated the apartment into a single, large room for an employee. When the general standard of living improved and no employee would live there, the owner began renting. Now, with competition from huge discount stores, there was no employee and the hours of operation had been reduced. The hardware store was closed for the night.

Billy unlocked the door at the far left of the building’s facade and they climbed the steep, dark staircase to a landing, where there was a second door and a second lock. A lighting fixture in the center of the ceiling, after a flick of the switch, illuminated the room. The floor of the nearly empty room is covered by a faded, yellowish linoleum. To the left is the kitchen area with a refrigerator and a stove. In the center is an old kitchen table with metal tube legs and three matching chairs. A three quarter bed, neatly made, stands against one wall. A row of cardboard boxes line the front wall under the undraped windows with drawn shades. There is no bureau.

Billy separates two cans of beer from the six-pack and places them on the table. The remainder go into the refrigerator. “Pull up a chair,” he says to Rick while seating himself and opening one of the containers. He pushes the other can toward the youth.

Rick sits. “Thanks,” he says. He “pops the top” and takes a sip.

“Drink up,” Billy encourages. Half a can of beer slides down Billy’s throat. Rick tries to match this, but can’t quite. He chokes a bit. Billy laughs and “chugs” the rest of his. “Come on, don’t be a wimp,” he instructs. It takes Rick two attempts to finish his portion.

Billy withdraws two more cans from the refrigerator. This time he simulates guzzling, pressing his tongue against the opening and swallowing air. Rick drinks. “So you work out to help your running.” Billy suggests.

“Yeah,” the kid responds. Billy simulates drinking again and sets his brew down as though he has finished it. Rick drinks.

“Finish it,” Billy says. Rick drinks, finishes, looks up smiling.

“So, do you really think lifting does you any good?”

“Sure.”

“Let me see. Take your shirt off.” Billy smiles pleasantly.

Rick laughs, a bit nervous, he supposes that Billy is joking.

Billy gets up from his chair. “No, really, take your shirt off.” He isn’t smiling now.

In a reflexive action, Rick rises. He feels a little unsteady, he has never drunk this much beer, so quickly, before. “No,” he says.

Billy’s face shows anger. “I’ve been good to you, now you’re going to be good to me. Did you think I was giving you beers for nothing? Take your shirt off,” he orders.

Rick stands his ground. He raises his voice. “No!”

A right fist shoots out and rams into Rick’s left eye. The youth crumples to the floor in a heap, motionless, like a sack of gain. Billy knows this sign, the boy has said no, thereby defending his manhood. Whatever happens to him while he is “unconscious” is beyond his control and he is not to blame. This charade satisfies Billy for the time being.

He picks Rick up and drops him on the bed. Each item of the boy’s clothing that Billy removes lands on the floor where he kicks it under the bed and all the way to the wall. Once he is finished, should Rick “regain consciousness,” he can’t get to his clothes and abscond before Billy can easily prevent flight.

Billy need not hurry now, although he does not want to give the kid too much time to think, perhaps to feel compelled to give further resistance. He disrobes, except for his boxer shorts, then locates the can of Crisco that he keeps specifically for these occasions. Billy does not bake.

He turns his attention to Rick, who has not moved. At this juncture he is forceful, but not brutal. There are a couple of reasons. Billy doesn’t want to cause an injury that would require medical attention He relies on the belief that no boy would want to admit to being used in this fashion, but the advantage would be wasted by necessitating treatment by a physician. Also, he plans to have the kid again sometime. Billy knows that, handled correctly, boys can become quite compliant in matters of sexual intercourse.

Once satisfied, Billy puts his shorts back on, sits again at the kitchen table and sips his beer. He watches with apparent disinterest as Rick “wakes up,” crawls under the bed to retrieve his clothing and then dresses.

“Come here,” he commands. The youngster glances at the door.

“You’d never make it,” Billy comments. Rick approaches with reluctance, flinches when the young man stands.

“You’ve got to give your old man a hug before you go,” Billy admonishes. He puts his arms around the boy, reaches down and squeezes his bottom. Rick grimaces.

“What’s the matter? Your pussy hurt?” Billy asks. He unfastens the top two buttons on the boy’s shirt, puts his hand in, fondles the breast.

Feigning sympathy, he says, “You went to all that trouble to put your clothes on and now we just have to take everything off again.” He shakes his head, sadly.

“Please, no,” Rick pleads, tears run down his cheeks.

“Please, no,” Billy repeated. “That’s better than before. And tears, I like tears. Only they’re going to make that eye sting.” Billy inspected the red and swollen bruise. “Calm down. You can go now.”

*****

The boys in prison continued to be available to Billy, they couldn’t get away. He hadn’t quite adjusted to this difference on the outside. Rick and the others stayed away from the places where he might be encountered. So Billy constantly needed to find fresh material.

Although he was, for the most part, right about his victims not telling anyone the specifics of what had happened to them; they did warn their friends, in general terms, to stay away from Billy. On his way home, Rick pounded his fist into a brick wall and told his parents that a kid from out of town had picked a fight with him. The other boy had “sucker” punched him, he said.

Then Billy encountered Harden Wannick, a brat and an unashamed homosexual. This was the middle 1960’s. Even though Stonewall hadn’t happened yet, the spirit of “free love” had a profound effect on boys like Harden, who saw the possibilities. He wasn’t about to accept abuse quietly. Immediately after the event, he told his father he had been raped. Together, they went to the police station and reported the crime.

Evidence was collected in the usual manner. Billy was arrested and held without bail. The authorities advised his attorney that they were reasonably sure that Harden was not the only teenage boy to be favored by Billy’s attentions. They had made a list of likely possibilities based on their knowledge of which youngsters frequented certain places during the evening hours. If necessary they would interview these boys, tell them that they already had one victim willing to testify and see how many counts they could come up with. Then they would ask the judge for consecutive sentences. Or Billy could just plead guilty to the one charge and expect the maximum penalty of twenty years.

The proposed terms were acceptable to Billy. He understood prison better than he did life on the outside. Harden went to Columbia University and in 1969 became one of the founders of the Student Homophile League, the first collegiate gay organization. Rick became a CPA and nothing else happened in his life that was the least bit unusual.