This was written in response to a challenge to write a story based on a Beatles' song title.  There is some adult language.
Comments about this story can be sent to portia1@mindspring.com

Come Together

By 

Portia

   Here come old flattop he come grooving up slowly
   He got joo-joo eyeball he one holy roller
   He got hair down to his knee
   Got to be a joker he just do what he please

   The lights were flickering crazily, the music was too loud, and the body lounging in his arms gave off a fetid, unwashed aroma. He knew he should leave, that he didn’t belong in this chaotic, writhing hell, but the lights were flickering crazily. He felt mesmerized by the pulsing beat of the music, and anchored by the body in his arms.

   Anchored…yes, that was good. If he tried to stand up, he’d only float away anyhow. Besides, wasn’t he supposed to be waiting for someone?

   Someone…yes. His partner. Wait. No, he was gone. Lost, lost, lost.

   So, not his partner…. Chilly. That’s right; he was waiting for Chilly. He was supposed to be waiting for Chilly, to make a buy. Chilly had the good stuff, Chilly came through, don’t play with Chilly and Chilly won’t play with you….

   The woman (the girl?), hair matted and dressed in tattered jeans, began to rub up against him, but the lethargy in his veins hardly allowed him to notice. He absently caressed her back, and stared muzzily around him.

   He wear no shoeshine he's got toe jam football
   He's got monkey finger he shoot Coca-Cola
   He say "I know you, you know me"
   One thing I can tell you is you got to be free

   Come together 
   Right now 
   Over me

   Chilly, Chilly…a mean motherfucker. Shoot you as soon as look at you, and he didn’t play by any rules but his own. But he had the sweet stuff, he had the stuff. Need to buy the stuff, need to hook up with Chilly. Hook up, hook up, by hook or by crook. By crook! Hell to think he was a police officer, hell to think he was in this place. He laughed weakly, and the woman rolled off his lap. He stared at her dumbly -- apparently she’d decided to scratch her own itch….

   Lost in observing the lights splashing against her skin -- watch the color tangling in her hair! -- he didn’t notice the man had hunkered down beside him until the large, hot hand settled on his shoulder. He experienced the voice more as sensation than sound – warm, moist, noisome. Only when he had turned his head and could observe the lips moving, could he be mindful of assimilating the words.

   "Looking for me, little piggy?" The speaker was an overly large man, dark muscles gleaming in the kaleidoscope lights, head capped by a ballooning Afro. His eyes held amusement and his voice was deep, low and soft.

   "Ch--Chilly?"

   "That’s right, baby, Chilly’s here. And Chilly’s gonna take care of you, baby. You come with me --I got some friends I want you to meet." The large hands gently helped him to his unsteady feet.

   He bag production he got walrus gumboot
   He got Ono sideboard he one spinal cracker
   He got feet down below his knee
   Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease

   "Hey, Chilly," the voice drifted up like smoke from the vicinity of their feet, "where you going with my new boyfriend?"

   "No worries, little Gina. You done right well, little girl. Chilly won’t forget what he promised."

   "He’s pretty…." The voice faded away.

   Come together 
   Right now 
   Over me

   "Where’re we going?" he heard a voice mumble, or maybe his voice mumbled -- he wasn’t sure which. He knew he’d wondered that, but it didn’t seem too important. Chilly’s firm, gentle grasp on his arm seemed to be sufficient to keep him grounded. Grounded? No, he was floating, but it seemed likely that Chilly wouldn’t allow him to fly away. Anyway, it didn’t really seem to matter…but would the music let him leave?

   Chilly was a steam train, Chilly was a thundercloud, Chilly was the mountain going to Muhammad. Chilly made his way inexorably across the room, all obstacles giving way before him -- the people, the music, the light. Did the wall give way? Did the door give way? Did they go through a door? All he knew was the pulsing multi-hued lights, the shimmering, cascading music had given way to the hazy glow of streetlights and the heavy weight of the night sky.

   "Wh…Where‘re we…."

   He suddenly felt himself pushed up against the hard, brick wall. The rush of the movement left a kinetic echo in his mind, which mingled with the feeling of the cold, textured brick under his palms. He couldn’t focus on what Chilly was saying, but he thought he liked to hear the timber of the man’s voice. He stared dreamily into the inscrutable eyes that tried to bore into his own. Chilly’s bearded lips suddenly broke into a smile.

   "Why you care where you going, baby? You don’t even know where you are." And Chilly laughed, and pulled him away from the wall.

   He was floating again…. Don’t let go, Chilly….

   "Come on, little piggy. You ever been to a luau? We gonna have a genuine pig roast."

   "I…’m not hungry…"

   "No? Well, I know some fellas that are. You wanna meet my friends?"

   "Sure. I’ll meet your frien’s, but I wanna…. I wanna?" He stared with muzzy confusion into the warm, amused eyes. "Chilly, you got some --"

   "Shh, honey. We not gonna talk about that out on the street. You come with me." And he found himself being half carried, half dragged towards a dark, lincoln continental purring just at the mouth of the alley. But before they could make it to the invitingly open door and the velvet darkness within, he found himself flying, flying….

   Chilly, you let go.

   The wall reached out to intercept his flight, the brick scraping the skin of his cheek and catching at his clothes. Its gritty, rough grip must have been sufficient to hold him, because he didn’t rise up again. However, just to be sure, he pressed himself closer to its cold surface. Behind him he heard a strange music of grunts and muttered angry curses and an arrhythmic, muted thumping. The music fell off in a fading, echoing, staccato beat.

   Then the odor of cedar wood and light musk was embracing him, turning him. So soft, so gentle. He wasn’t afraid to leave the wall’s embrace, because the large hands were holding him so tightly. Worried eyes frantically scanned his face and stared appraisingly into his own. They clearly didn’t like what they saw.

   But he did, he liked it. There was music in the voice, and there were the colors of the day in a frame of stars, and there was light. He reached up to touch the light, but his hand was grasped firmly and pressed against a solid surface. A drum? He could feel the rapid beat, but there was no sound….

   "Dammit, Starsky! I told you to wear a wire!" The voice was tight with anger, and shook faintly with some other emotion.

   "You! You got los’."

   "Well, one of us sure as hell did." And the light and the music and the dark and the solid strength gathered him in an unbreakable embrace, while the distant scream of an approaching siren darted like a knife-edged kite in the air above them.

   He roller coaster he's got early warning
   He's got muddy water he one Mojo filter
   He say, "One and one and one is three"
   Got to be good looking 'cause he's so hard to see

   Come together
   Right now
   Over me

THE END