Ghosts of The Heart -- Ch. 8 is up.

“I can’t believe you lost the keys.” Lucas muttered, shifting his weight and getting a better grip on the huge box he was holding. Anna ignored his comment and kept digging through her purse. “Could you hurry? I’m going to die.” His shoulders and arms were aching fiercely, and the weather was too warm to be standing out on the street like this.

“Could you shut up? You’re fine.” Anna snapped, leaning against the glass doors of the theater and digging through her purse for the fourth time. “I had them, I swear.”

Lucas sighed dramatically and set the box down at his feet. “We have too much work to do for you to be losing keys, Anna.” He told her, and she glared at him. They’d bought the theater a year ago, and after all this time, they were almost ready to open it. It had only two stages, and they’d equipped one with a movie screen, and kept the other for live performances. There was a concession stand on the movie side, and bar on the stage side. They were both very proud of their place, and Lucas couldn’t wait for opening night; they’d planned a sci-fi double feature for the movie side, and a group that was very well known in the area and in a couple of other cities was going to perform The Rocky Horror Show. Lucas was excited to watch sci-fi nerds mingle with the fanatical fans of Rocky Horror.

Anna went back to searching for the keys and swearing under her breath, and Lucas looked around. The theater took up most of the one side of Archer Street; on its right was a convenience store, on its left was a used bookstore. Across the street was two buildings, both eight stories, of lofts. There was a bar that catered to the more alternative crowd, a diner on one corner and a coffee shop on the other. The theater had been abandoned since the seventies. It had been slated for demolition, not because it was a hazard but because no one wanted it. Lucas and Anna had pounced.

They’d been saving up for years, living in tiny apartments and each working an average of sixty hours a week. They’d left their hometown two weeks after graduation. Lucas dumped his college money into a joint savings account with Anna, and they hadn’t looked back in thirteen years.

Now, a week before Lucas’s thirty first birthday, they were two days from opening night. They were both swamped with work, and Lucas was getting frustrated with having to stand in the July heat, his shirt clinging to his back and his back hurting from lugging that box all the way from their apartment. He looked up at the loft buildings, wondering if there were any vacancies; their lease was almost up, and he wanted to move closer to the theater.

Lucas was distracted from his musings at the high, whining roar of multiple motorcycles. He watched three identical bikes, all of them black on black, pull up in front of the loft building on the right. He could tell that one was female; she was wearing a gray pleated skirt and knee high socks. The other two were males, both in gray slacks. As he watched, he realized they were teenagers from the prep school a few blocks away. He smield a little as the girl and one of the boys dismounted in unison and pulled their matching helmets off.

They were both short, skinny, and red haired, obviously related, maybe even twins. The girl said something that made her brother laugh, and they both looked at the second boy as he pulled his own helmet off and tucked it under one arm.

Lucas’s heart stopped. It felt as though someone had punched him in the solar plexus. For a moment he was absolutely certain he was about to pass out; his vision swam and he couldn’t breathe. He must’ve made a noise, though, because Anna touched his arm and asked him what was wrong.

The second boy was smiling at his companions, and as Lucas watched, he lifted one hand to push his dark chocolate colored hair out of his eyes. Lucas knew, in his heart, that if he was close enough, he would see that those eyes were mismatched, one blue and one brown. The boy had the same heavy, sharp features face, the same wide shoulders and narrow hips, the same careless, crooked smile.

“David.” He whispered, and felt Anna’s fingers dig painfully into his bicep. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her trace his line of vision. The hiss she made proved she’d seen it.

“It’s not him.” She said immediately, and they watched the boy who looked so like him unzip his jacket. Underneath he was wearing a white button up and a red and gray striped tie, the prep school’s uniform. “He’s just a kid.”

“He looks…” Lucas trailed off, his heart pounding. He left sweaty, but cold. He realized he’d taken a step backwards, away from the ghost across the street. “The last time I saw him, he looked…”

“I know.” Anna said, and pulled on his arm. “But it’s not him. That’s not possible. It’s just a coincidence.” She was talking fast and quiet. “I found the keys. Come inside. We have work to do.”

“I haven’t thought about him in so long.” Lucas told her, ignoring her words and keeping his eyes on the boy across the street as he and his two friends headed for the doors of the loft building. “I’m going insane.” He said matter-of-factly, and laughed. “That’s the only explanation for…” he trailed off, and slowly turned to look at Anna, who had already started to shake her head.

“No.” she snapped. “Absolutely not. There is no possible way that-“

“The age is close enough.” Lucas interrupted, and Anna made a low, aggravated growling sound. “You can’t tell me that it’s not really weird that-“

“Yes, okay, it’s weird.” She cut in, and turned to unlock the glass door. Her hands were shaking. “But you can’t really believe that we would buy a theater directly across from the building that his son would just happen to be living in. Things like that don’t happen.”

“Anna-“

“No!” she spun around to glare at him. “No, Lucas. Forget it. Come inside.” She picked the box up herself, ignoring the pain in her shoulders, and went in. After a moment,

Lucas followed her reluctantly. He was sure of what he’d seen; the boy had looked exactly like David. It hurt to think about. His chest felt tight, constricted, and it was hard to make his feet take him into the building when he wanted to run across the street, grab the kid, and shake him until he told him why he looked so much like David. He’d spent a very long time trying to forget about David, had ruined multiple promising relationships by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time about his ex. It had taken so long to get over what had happened. In the last few years, he’d figured out how to go more than an hour without thinking about him, and over the most recent year the hollow, hurting part inside of him began to recede, replaced with hope and happiness at the prospect of a dream come true. He didn’t want to think about David. It was too painful, too counter productive.

So he made a conscious effort to put the kid out of his head. He had other things to think about, he knew. Like the opening on Saturday. With a sigh, he followed Anna up to the office on the second floor to go over the last minute list. Still, when he closed his eyes, things he’d pushed away years ago came back, and it was hard to focus on anything other than those memories.

Deacon closed his eyes and tried to ignore the babbling blond whirlwind that was his girlfriend as she passed the living room area. He was laying on the couch, still in his uniform, a cigarette in hand. The twins, Lex and Astor, had disappeared as soon as Jess had showed up; they hated her. He could hear them, though, in Lex’ bedroom, laughing. He wished he was in there with them, or in his room, working on his newest painting. He had a headache, and the last thing he wanted to deal with was Jess and her ever constant chatter.

“…wants us to meet her up there on Saturday, so I figure I’ll pick you up at-“

“No.”

Jess glanced at him, confused. “What do you mean, no?” she asked, stopping her pacing to stand in the middle of the room.

“I mean, no. Whatever the hell you’re talking about, the answer is no.” he took a hit of his cigarette and blew a smoke ring at the ceiling, then covered his mismatched eyes with his hand.

“What I’m talking about, what I’ve been talking about for the last twenty minutes, Deacon, is my best friend’s birthday party. You have to go.” She was pouting, he could tell be the tone of her voice.

“What friend?” he asked.

“Stacey.”

“No.”

“Deacon!” she stomped her foot, and he could visualize the heel of her fashionably pointy black pumps digging into the rug. “You promised-“

“Saturday is the theater across the street’s opening.” He told. “They’re playing The Time Machine and Village of The Damned.”

“Who gives a shit?” she snapped at him, and he lifted his hand to glare at her. “I know that you have this inner geek, Deacon, but this is just-“

“Jess, I’m not going to spend my Saturday night with that self absorbed bitch you call your best friend, and that’s final. Now get off my fucking back.” He got off the couch, ignoring her as she started to complain, and headed for the stairs that led to his bedroom on the landing. He stopped at the foot of them and turned. “Jess, if you’re going to be a huge bitch about this, then leave. I’m sick of it, and I’ve got a headache. I want to paint. Leave.”

“Deacon-“

“Just leave, okay?” he went upstairs and slammed his bedroom door. He sat down beside his painting table and stubbed the half smoked cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. Then he studied the canvas on the easel, considering where to go with it. He heard the buzzer downstairs and ignored it, but a few minutes later, Jess knocked on the door and opened it before waiting for him to answer.

“My brother is here.” She snapped. “He says you invited him over.”

“I did.” Deacon told her, and she glared at him. “Send him up.”

“I have to go.” She told him. She walked over and kissed him, and after a moment of resistance, he returned it. “I’m sorry we fought.”

“That’s okay.” He said, not meaning it and knowing she knew he didn’t mean it.

“Maybe I’ll go with you on Saturday?” she smiled, obviously trying to placate him.

He shrugged. “Your brother is coming with me.”

She scowled. “I swear, sometimes I think you two are gay for each other.” He laughed at his, and she narrowed her eyes. “Why is that funny?” she snapped at him.

“What if we were?” he asked her, still smiling. He saw Johnny slip into the room behind her and set his backpack on the floor.

Jess shook her head. “Please. I’d kill you both. You for being a cheating prick, and him for being a boyfriend stealing fag.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Deacon told her, and watched her leave. He turned his attention to Jess’s brother, who stared at him silently until he heard the door downstairs shut. “Hello, Johnny.” Deacon greeted. He studied his girlfriend’s brother carefully; it always astounded him that they looked so alike and were so incredibly different.

Johnny cross the room, turning his attention to Deacon’s newest painting. “It reminds me of that novel you made me read; Sea Dragon Heir?”

Deacon grinned. “That was what I was going for.” He said, and watched Johnny smile. “You always get them.” He leaned back in his chair, and Johnny closed the distance between them and straddled Deacon’s lap. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m not publicly dating you instead of your sister.”

“You have a soft spot for vapid skanks.” Johnny told him, and covered Deacon’s smile with his lips. Deacon made a low purring sound and put his arms around Johnny’s waist. When they parted, Johnny laughed. “Raspberries.”

“Your sister bought new lip gloss.” Deacon explained. “It’s very tasty.”

“Let me try it again.” Johnny said, and leaned down to capture Deacon’s mouth again.

It was almost two hours before they went downstairs. The twins had emerged a while earlier. Lex was sitting at his piano, plunking away at something he’d been working on for weeks. Astor was sitting beside him, braided pieces of her own hair and then untangling them, only to redo the braid a moment later. They both looked up at the boys as they came downstairs.

“Sometimes I think we need to charge Johnny rent.” Astor commented, smiling.

Johnny rolled his eyes and sat down on the couch, only to have Deacon flop down beside him and bury his head in Johnny’s lap. “If it weren’t for me, you two would have to repeat your senior year a third time.” He pointed out. “You’re already on your second chance.”

“True.” Lex nodded. “That reminds me.” He turned to his sister. “Dad called. Wants to know if he’s paying the rent this month or we are.”

“I bought a new camera, I don’t have money for rent.” Astor told him.

Deacon smiled, pressing his face against Johnny’s thigh. His two best friends were childish and petty, and their father had always given them everything they’d ever wanted, including the motorcycles downstairs and this loft. Still, they were loyal, and fun, and more to the point, they let him live with them.

When Deacon had found out they he was adopted eight months ago, a huge fight had broken out between him and his ‘parents’. The fight had escalated until Deacon had packed his stuff and moved into Astor and Lex’s downtown loft. Since the fight, Deacon had had no contact with his parents.

He’d also begun looking for his biological parents. He wasn’t too optimistic, but he’d talked to Johnny about it, who had tried to reassure him that anything was possible. Johnny had kissed him and said, “Fate has a funny way of giving us want we want, Deacon. Just wait, and you’ll find them through a medium you never expected.”

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A/N .... So. To those of you who've read the other Lucas stories, I know this chapter's pretty short compared to my other, but hey, oh well. Yes, I am trying to portray Deacon as kind of a dick. He's eighteen, BTW. Anyway, lots more coming soon. Reviews are loved... all night long.