Alan Price and the Colossus of Rhodes (The Nephilim Chronicles) Read online

  Tony pursed his lips. “And how are you going to afford a tuxedo there, James Bond? Those aren’t exactly cheap.”

  “I know. I thought about that but I still have the money I earned from working over the summer at the library. I could use that.”

  Tony let out a long sigh, “Listen, buddy, I admire you wanting to go and your willingness to try and socialize but the car is just off limits. I can give you a ride if you want. That’s the best I can do.”

  Alan knew arguing would be pointless. Once Tony had made up his mind on a subject, it would be easier to move a mountain than convince him otherwise. “Okay, thanks anyway.”

  Alan bit his lower lip as he made his way up the creaking stairs and to his room. Tony took care of three orphaned boys including Alan. Since the other two boys were still in elementary school, Alan was allowed to have his own room while the other two boys shared. Alan entered his haven closing the door behind him.

  You can’t give up now. Not when you finally feel good about a plan.

  Alan felt as if he had been depressed for years. The anger was a more recent feeling. The anger came from his inability to do anything about his depression. Now when hope had finally been found Alan refused to let it go. Alan shuffled to his bed and threw himself on top of the lumpy mattress.

  There has to be a way.

  Alan glanced out the window at the setting sun. If there was going to be a way then he had to come up with one fast. He still needed to get a tuxedo and make it to the dance. The notion of calling Dr. Larson and asking her to pick him up as his date teased him. Alan smiled as he shook his head.

  Then the answer came to him from the most unexpected person, Tony.

  Chapter 7

  “Alan,” Tony’s voice came through the closed bedroom door. “The boys have their Scout meeting tonight. We’re carpooling with the neighbors next door. We’ll be back by nine.”

  Alan cocked his head to the side as his brain processed a new plan. A dangerous plan that hinged on Tony and the boys being driven by the neighbors.

  “Alan? Did you hear me?”

  “Uhh—yeah—okay.” Alan could hear Tony’s feet walk across the wood floors soon accompanied by two pairs of smaller running steps.

  A small amount of adrenaline oozed through Alan’s veins. He got to his feet and looked out his room window on the second story. Sure enough, Tony and the boys were leaving the house.

  Tony was dressed in a Scout uniform that was made for someone a size or two smaller than he was. The two young boys raced each other to the neighbor’s house. They weren’t taking Tony’s car.

  You’re going to get in so much trouble for this. But if everything goes well tonight, wouldn’t it be worth it?

  Alan made his way downstairs to the house’s garage. He paced back and forth deep in thought. Tony’s brand new Mercedes Benz, sat sleek and beautiful in the dull light practically seducing him to enter.

  Alan fidgeted as he walked up and down in front of the car, tapping a forefinger on his chin. “You have to. It’s doctor’s orders.”

  Somewhere in the back of Alan’s mind, he knew he was doing the wrong thing. But he had made up a reason to justify his actions. Given his current circumstances, that was enough for him.

  Alan was and had always been a great kid. Besides being late to the bus a few times, he was a model student and always obeyed the rules Tony set in place. The possibility that Alan would actually steal his car had never crossed Tony’s mind. Alan knew all of this and almost felt bad, almost.

  His fingers tingled as his skin made contact with the cold spare keys Tony hung in the garage closet. His grip tightened around the key ring, making indentions in his hand. He was doing it; he was really going to do this.

  Heart fluttering, Alan made sure he had his wallet. It was there like a lump of guilt in his pocket.

  You can do this. You can do this.

  Alan entered the car’s dark interior. The seats embraced him in their promise of freedom. Alan closed the door beside him, allowing his hands to run across the smooth steering wheel. He trembled with a mix of fear and excitement. He pushed the ignition key, willing the car to life. The engine purred, like a cat yawning from a nap.

  Alan had only driven a few times and never by himself. The deal Tony and he had made just a year before was one Alan was positive Tony had only agreed to because he was sure Alan wouldn’t succeed. The agreement was that Alan had to get straight A’s for the year. If he did that, Tony would allow him to take driver’s education, but Alan still had to find a way to pay for it himself.

  Alan had made good on his end of the bargain even getting a summer job at the city library to pay for his driving classes. Tony had reluctantly allowed him to get his license but even then, Alan had only driven a handful of times, always with Tony in the car bracing himself against the dash as if at any moment Alan was going to wreck.

  However, this time was different. This time Alan was alone. Alan reached a finger to the visor and clicked the garage door opener’s sticky blue button. Mechanical grating overcame the purr of the engine as the door to his freedom opened. The sun’s last setting light showed through the opening door with a soft glow.

  This is it. After this, there is no going back. You’ll be grounded for sure. Maybe even forced to move homes. But if tonight you could stop being depressed, if tonight could be some type of turning point, it would all be worth it.

  Alan carefully put the car in reverse, checked his mirrors and very slowly pulled out of the garage.

  Chapter 8

  “Oh, and why, yes, sir. You would look absolutely gorgeous in this one. I mean just feel the quality of the fabric. No, go ahead feel it. I mean this kind of material all over your body? Forget about it, honey.”

  Alan reached out a tentative hand to touch the fabric. The sales associate at the tuxedo rental store was right. It felt great.

  “How much is this one?”

  “Oh, let’s see here, you said just a one day rental?”

  Alan nodded. “Technically I just need it for the night.”

  “Oh, well, aren’t you cute. We don’t rent by the hour so it’ll have to be a day. Going to a dance?”

  Alan nodded at the energetic sales associate. He was about Alan’s height wearing a skintight suit with a nametag that read, “Enrique”.

  “Three hundred and fifty-seven.”

  Alan looked confused for a second and then thought he realized where the misunderstanding had occurred. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I said ‘rent’. I don’t want to buy it. I just need it for a few hours.”

  Enrique shook his head, his thickly gelled hair not swaying the slightest bit. “No, sweetie, aren’t you too cute. That is the rental price for the day.”

  Alan’s mouth went dry. “Don’t you have anything else?”

  “I’m sorry. For the last few weeks, we’ve been all but sold out. With the school dance coming up, I mean, my guess is that would be the reason we’re so low on inventory. If you’d like I can call around to see if any of our stores in the surrounding area have anything.”

  Alan shook his head. He knew going to another location now would mean he would be late for the dance. “No, no it’s okay.” Alan forced out the words through a clenched jaw. The tuxedo would almost deplete his savings from his summer job. Still he had come this far. The words, “I’ll take it” came out slow and painful.

  “Oh, well, you are making a great choice, sir. I know it seems a bit expensive but the quality is superb and you can be sure that everyone else will be looking at you.”

  “Great.”

  “If you have your card, I’ll ring you up. Did you want to put it on now? You are more than welcome to use our changing room.”

  Alan looked up at a large clock on the store’s wall. “Yeah, I better.”

  Alan dug into his pocket. He handed his bankcard to Enrique making himself think about anything besides the amount of days he had had to work to earn this piece of clothing he would wear for a few hours.


  Enrique directed him to a dressing room before he left to ring up Alan’s order.

  Alan had no idea that a tuxedo had so many parts. It seemed like there were more items to figure out where to put by the minute. Socks and shoes were simple. Things like trying to tie the bowtie and how exactly to place the cummerbund were more of a challenge.

  “All rung up, sir,” Enrique’s voice sounded through the thin dressing room curtain. “Do you need any help?”

  Panic rose in Alan’s chest. “No, no, I’m fine just trying to figure out this bowtie. It’s like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube.”

  “Here, let me help,” Enrique pulled back the curtain without showing the slightest pause. Before Alan could protest, the tuxedo shop worker’s fingers were flying around Alan’s bowtie like a trained professional.

  “There,” Enrique said taking a step back, “Very secret agent, sir. If I do say so myself.”

  Alan, still recovering from the curtains being drawn back, took a look at himself in the mirror. It was true. His usual tall and lanky build had been totally transformed by the tuxedo. The material made him look suave and important. It complimented his height while at the same time masking his lack of muscle. Alan stood back stunned. Maybe he had made the right decision this night after all.

  “Well, better hurry,” Enrique said handing Alan the receipt that held far too many digits. “You don’t want to miss your hair appointment.”

  “Hair appointment?”

  “Ummmm… yeah, you can’t go to the dance looking like that.”

  Alan examined his hair in the mirror. His straight dark blond locks fell to his shoulders. He hadn’t even thought about getting a haircut.

  Enrique took Alan’s silence in stride. “Trust me, a tuxedo like that deserves a haircut to match. My cousin Hector works right next door. Tell him cousin Estar sent you and he’ll hook you up.”

  Chapter 9

  “Oh, child, you came to the right place. I just got off the phone with Enrique and don’t worry, the haircut won’t cost as much as the tux.”

  Alan nodded doing the math in his head trying to figure out how much money he had left. Hector was the spitting image of Enrique, the two looked like they could be twins. “Okay, how much is it?”

  “I’ll do you right since my cousin sent you over. Let’s say forty dollars but you have to promise not to go around and tell people that. Why, if my other clients knew I was handing out haircuts for that price– ” Hector waived a dismissive hand at the thought, “Well, I’d be out of business in a week.”

  Alan nodded doing the math in his head again. He would be out of money almost to the dollar.

  It’s going to be worth it: it’s all going to be worth it.

  “Come now, I understand you’re in a hurry for a dance. But don’t worry. Being fashionably late is still in style. And by the time I’m done with you, people will wait for your arrival to start the party.”

  Hector snapped his finger with a headshake and directed Alan to a seat. Alan allowed Hector to place a cape around him, tightened at the neck. The bright lights and hyperactive chatter from other patrons in the hair salon made Alan feel anything except at ease.

  Alan’s hair grew slowly. This combined with the fact that Alan didn’t mind long hair meant he only visited a barber a few times year. When he did get a cut, it was only because Tony insisted. Tony would provide him with a few dollars and he would make his way to a small mom-and-pop shop, which usually meant a nick or two on the ear.

  Hector jawed on about dances and how well Alan would be received as his fingers flew over Alan’s hair like his cousin’s did while tying the bowtie.

  Alan smiled as the hairdresser chatted away, however his attention was elsewhere. As the time for the dance grew closer, Alan began second guessing himself. His hands began to perspire on the smooth metal of the styling chair.

  What if you’re wrong? What if you are doing all of this just to stand in the corner by yourself all over again?

  Alan started to zone out as the familiar feelings of fear and doubt began to take over his once positive outlook. Ironically, it was Hector’s voice that made him stop.

  “Come on now, we have to wash and style your hair.”

  Alan looked up at the mirror in front of him just as Hector ran to block his view.

  “No—no peaking now. We’re just about done. Follow me.”

  Alan obeyed following the hyperactive hairdresser to the washing basin. He sat in the leather recliner-like chair laying his head back for Hector.

  The salon attendant chattered on while he used generous helpings of shampoo and conditioner.

  “Nervous?”

  Alan looked up at Hector’s smiling face. “Why would you say that?”

  “Ummm… well let’s see. You’ve hardly said a word while you’ve been here, you look like you’re going to bore a whole through whatever you’re looking at and I saw the sweat marks on my chair when you got up.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I—“

  “Don’t apologize. I’m just asking if you’re nervous. First dance?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I am nervous and yes, it is my first dance.”

  Hector dried his hair and instructed Alan to follow him back to the styling seat. He stood in front of Alan blocking his view in the mirror. “Don’t worry. We’ve all been there. Be confident and know that you look great. The tuxedo is perfect and…” Hector’s voice trailed off as he mixed a small amount of gel into Alan’s hair. “And your hair—if I do say so myself—looks amazing.”

  Hector stepped back taking off the long apron covering Alan’s suit. Alan didn’t know what to say. He didn’t recognize the person looking back at him with an open mouth.

  Alan had always either had long hair or hair in the process of becoming long. Hector had cut his hair short, with a style that pushed the top forward. The front was combed up and to the side. “What do you think?”

  “I—I—“

  “Good. That’s the response I was looking for. Now come on, Cinderella, you’re going to be late for the ball.”

  Chapter 10

  Alan patted the pocket that held his wallet as he thought of all the money spent for the few hours he would be at the dance. All the money and all the trouble he would be in when he got home.

  He drove carefully, making double certain to follow all street signs. It was dark now and as Alan turned a corner, he saw the parking lot to his school. It was already full with the last dance attendees making their way into the school’s large gymnasium.

  Alan took a long breath as he pulled into the school’s parking lot. More than one eye caught sight of the sleek black car and stopped to see who would exit. He glanced at himself in the car’s rearview mirror one more time.

  You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. It’s like pulling off a Band-Aid. Just get out of the car.

  But he couldn’t. He wanted to so very desperately, but fear and angst had dominated his resolve once again. He looked through the car’s dark tinted windows at the groups of students who had come to admire the vehicle.

  “Ahhhhh… this is ridiculous. Get out of the car, ALAN,” he had hoped by talking to himself out loud it would help, it didn’t.

  Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Those who had stopped to admire the car began to walk away. Confused looks crossed over their faces as they headed for the gym doors and the music that could be heard playing inside.

  Chaperons walked the perimeter monitoring against any underage drinking. Alan looked at one of the adults in particular and was shocked to see Dr. Larson dressed in a modest black dress saying “hello” to students as they passed by.

  Dr. Larson only visited the school once a week to meet with her patients. Since Alan’s high school had so many students in need of psychiatric care, Dr. Larson had volunteered to make the trip instead of making the students travel individually to her office in the heart of the city. In return, the school allowed her use of the receptionist and an office of her own.


  Before Alan could stop himself, he reached for the car handle and opened the door. He forced his legs to step outside. The night was cool and a breeze began to blow. Alan ignored all the looks from his classmates. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on the doctor and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

  Dr. Larson looked at him and smiled. Then she really looked at him and an expression of shock and realization crossed her face. “Alan? Alan, is that you? You came!”

  Alan may have been worried or offended had it not been for the smile that crossed her face next. He beamed with pride at her words.

  “Yes—well—I thought about what you said. About how I could actively do something and I decided to take your advice.”

  “Well, I’m so glad you did.”

  Alan stood smiling, looking up at the woman who he had met with once a week for the past few months. In a weird kind of way she was his only friend, or at the very least the person who came closest to being a friend. Music blared from inside the gymnasium, students ran up the few steps eager to be inside but Alan thought he could stand and talk to the doctor for the rest of the night given the opportunity.

  “Oh, where’s your boutonnière?”

  “Who? Oh, I don’t have a date.”

  The doctor smiled, “No, the flower that goes on your coat.”

  Alan kicked himself mentally. It was not only too late but he was out of money for the flower he could only guess would be expensive. As more students passed inside Alan noticed all the male attendees with bright colored blossoms matching their date’s attire.

  “Oh—I—guess I forgot. I don’t have one.”

  Dr. Larson didn’t miss a beat. Reaching over the short railing that ran parallel with the steps leading into the gymnasium, the doctor plucked a white rose from the bush. Producing a pin from her hair, she motioned Alan forward.

  “You see? If you are willing to take a leap of faith, things will begin to work out.” She said this as she pressed the flower to Alan’s jacket and placed the pin perfectly, anchoring the rose on his jacket.