Date: Thu, 4 Sep 2014 00:20:44 -0700
From: Zac Lucas <kay1w1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Riley, Ace of Spades, Chapter 2

This story is set in New Zealand and uses NZ English. The age of consent
here is sixteen, not eighteen. Riley is fictional; Alex is pretty much
myself. Positive comments are welcome. Remember to contribute your donation
to keep the wheels of Nifty turning nicely.


******

Even though I was the only resident currently at the ashram, I still arose
at 5 am the next morning, shuffled into the lounge, recited the daily
prayer, covenant, and meditated till 6. Being up at sparrow fart, I found
challenging at times – in winter, for instance – but there was
definitely a stillness and beauty to dawn starts. In those moments of
glorious peace, it was as though the entire world was asleep, except for
myself. Everything felt like it was mine; yet nothing was. Nevertheless,
when it came to the height of summer, and the nearby bush festooned with
flowering natives, squabbling tuis picking on waxeyes, robins, and any
other winged one too foolish to venture into their 'patch' was almost too
much to bear. I sometimes had to resort to wearing earplugs. This morning,
however, dozens of birds had begun their love song to the Creator, long
before I was conscious and out of my bed. They were my alarm clock, so I
didn't mind too much.

I pressed greens through the slow juicer and added coconut water. Poured
some in a flask, with a few drops of extra virgin oil to prevent oxidation,
then stowed it in the 'fridge. Set out cat food for Her Royal Highness, and
mopped the kitchen floor as I mentally ran through the day's
schedule. Opportunity could arise; spontaneous events might spring up with
little-to-no notice advanced warning. (Case in point, giving a ride to
bedragged teen caught yesterday in the teeming rain. To say nothing of his
flaunting tease last night. Spur of the moment goofiness or lack of love? I
couldn't say for sure.) Much of the day was already mapped out, etched in
coloured markers on the big wall planner. Routine aside, it only remained
to handle whatever came up, with grace ideally, as and when it
happened. The ashram could have visitors today – other devotees and
students of the Master popping in to rest and rejuvenate a while, or stay
overnight. Hence the reason for the unlocked front entrance. A 'phone call
would usually alert me or another devotee to attendees' intentions –
mostly those living in different cities - but more often than not, the
electronic gate buzzer announced another unexpected arrival.

I cleaned the ensuite upstairs, and left the vacuum cleaner near the foot
of the stairs, so I would remember to tidy the master bedroom, first.

Riley padded sleepily into the dining room just after 7.30 am. He still
wore the bathrobe. This time the sash was tied in an actual bow - and Jaz
was draped languidly around his neck. She never lets anyone do that. I
suppressed a smile.

"Gidday, Riley. How was your sleep?" I enquired.

"Pure bliss, thanks to you, Alex. I don't think I've ever slept so well in
all my life." I couldn't help wonder just how few times he'd been able to
sleep undisturbed, but shook my head to rid the thought. Didn't wish to
dwell on his past – not yet, anyway. Riley gently leveraged the cat
down, and plonked himself at the dining table. Yawned like a hippo. Jaz
sashayed to her bowl and ate with unhurried relish.

I gave him his juice. Watched as he warily sniffed it. "It's Granny Smith
apples, cucumber, celery and coconut water, Riley," I advised, in case he
felt embarrassed by the need to ask. "Hope you like it."

The melting moment smile returned. "Thank you so much. I know it's just
words, Alex, and I keep saying it endlessly, but believe me, I really mean
it." He scooted his hand across to casually touch mine.

"You might not say that once the other devotees arrive." He frowned. Let go
of my hand. "Let me explain how it works, here."

"Okey-dokes." He sipped his tonic.

As I gave Riley the rundown of the ashram routine, I made ample toast,
vegetarian breakfast and herb tea for us both. "Since they're not due back
for a few days, you're still a guest. If you wish to stay on after that,
then you'll have to grab a sleeping bag from the storage area out in the
garage, and use the window seat mattress for sleeping. There's pillows and
a couple of blankets stashed underneath." I waved at the other small room
leading off the right of the kitchen. "The windows stay open during the
day, and shut at night to keep the mozzies out," I went on, "which is
something we have a lot of here, because of all the bush, and stream
running behind the ashram."

"Ugh, mosquitoes. How do I love them? Let me count the ways," Riley
groaned. He had my sympathy.

"We have citronella candles, of course, and all the beds are furnished with
mosquito nets so the suckers don't have their way with you, but I don't
think that includes the window bed." My voice quivered. Riley raised a
questioning brow. I took a deep breath. "This might sound crazy, Riley, but
it works for me. See, I don't use the net. Before I drift off to sleep, I
put out the strong thought form to the mozzies: you bite me, you die."

That set Riley off laughing. He threw a piece of toast at me. "That's not
very nice. Whatever happened to 'Thou Shalt Not Kill?'

I smirked, and biffed it back. "Must've missed that part."

"Yeah, right."

"Well, I can't explain it. All I know is, they're welcome to buzz around my
room to their hearts' content – assuming they have one – but not
attack me. Thus far this summer: mozzies, one; Zander eleven." He checked
my eyes for any signs I was kidding him, but I maintained a neutral
counternance.

I popped more toast in the rack. Added almond spread to the whiteboard list
on the 'fridge, then continued with my spiel. "It's $10 a day towards
expenses. You'll be expected to pitch in with cleaning, mowing the lawn,
doing gardening, organising seating for events, and so forth. As you have
seen, we are vegan. Also, there's no alcohol, smoking, drugs, or sweets
permitted. Strict, but not really an issue, once you become accustomed to
it. Unless you have a whole pile of vices to overcome."

His blue eyes flashed. "Does wanking count as a vice?"

I nearly choked on my peppermint tea. "If it does, take me out and shoot
me, now." He giggled. "You have some time to make up your mind about it, so
don't feel obligated to give me an answer right this minute, okay?" The
measured nod, returned. I studied his face. Granted, even with what might
be considered restrictions, it was surely better than a life on the road
and being homeless?

"If I shou-u-ld stay..." Riley began to sing softly. I chuckled.

"Well, kiddo, if you get in the way, someone here will always mention it
and point you in the right direction." He seemed to accept that. "I'll be
Skyping the 'mother centre' in So Cal a bit later on today, just to
finalise everything for when my fellow travellers return."

"So Cal is...?"

"Southern California. Specifically, Laguna Hills."

"When do they get here?"

"Flight's due in around six in the morning. I'll be taking the van to pick
them up, so I'll be gone by five. You'd be best to stay here, as there
won't be any spare room. 'Sides, by then, you'll know a bit more about the
ashram goings-on, and take any calls that happen to come in."

"At that unGodly hour of the day?"

"You'd be surprised, mate. Other countries sometimes forget the timezone
difference."

He finished the last of his breakfast and drained the cup.

"When do we start?"

"After you've dressed."

Riley pouted. "I thought I could just stay like this aaaaalll day. Being a
guest, and all. Bummer. Guess the whip's gonna gotta be cracked sooner or
later, but I'd much rather later."

I shrugged. "Yeah, life's a beach, and then you fry." His eyes danced with
mirth. "And before you ask, yes, you can swim in the pool. It's
solar-heated. But only today and tomorrow. The pool guys are coming to
drain and spring clean it the day after that. We left it a bit late this
year."

"Hello? Small backback, remember? Only one other set of clothing, so that
means no togs."

I grinned. "Sorry. Forgot. You can borrow mine. Or... if no one's visiting
when you decide to take the plunge, I suppose you can go skinny-dipping. I
may even join you. That's only IF we are the only peeps here. Capische?"

Riley nodded enthusiastically. "You don't have to tell me twice,
Alexandeeeeer." He pecked my cheek. "Thank you, thank you. I love you."

"Whatever, matey. Let's get this cleaned up and I'll crack on with my
duties. I'll give you the Grand Tour as well, so you know what goes where
and why."

He saluted. "Yes, baws."

"I know I sound like a bit of a drill sarge over all of this, but believe
me, all newbies get the same info, although theirs' is usually emailed to
them, when they book a space."

"It's cool," he reassured me. "I don't mind taking orders from you. You
don't yell at me or punch my lights out."

"Ha – don't count your chickens before they hatch."

I took a half-hearted swing at Riley, which he easily avoided, grabbed my
hand, and twisted it before I knew what was happening. Not enough to really
hurt, but enough to put the message across. "Love you too, buddy," I hissed
through my teeth. Cunning sod was grinning from ear to ear.

"I learnt martial arts really young. Be thankful it wasn't a roundhouse
kick."

**************

The tour of duty took in the three ground floor bedrooms, laundry, both
bathrooms and spacious garage housing one van, the Swift, ride-on mower,
gardening and some power tools neatly arranged above the lengthy
workbench. I suggested to Riley that the four hectares could wait until he
was in proper clothes, rather than a sparkling white, fluffy
bathrobe. Especially a Dior one. He agreed with my astute observation.

Going upstairs to the Master's bedroom, we skirted the abandoned vacuum
cleaner. He was amazed at the oversized bathroom off to the left; and al
fresco porch which overlooked the pool below. Sat in the embroidered office
chair, and ran an admiring finger over the native timber desk. Prodded the
edge of the King-sized bed to test its worthiness, and seemed impressed
with everything.

The large portrait on the wall unnerved him at first, but Master's
exquisite smiling eyes radiating Love, seemed to soothe him. He stood
there, silent. Stayed rooted to the spot for a few minutes or maybe as long
as half an hour, if not more – there was no way to tell.

Eventually, he broke off his gaze, and looked out the window. Well knowing
a tender heart, I instinctively moved closer. I knew the impact Master had
had on him, and wanting to convey my awareness of it, I placed my hand on
his shoulder. He grasped it, and I spontaneously leaned forward to whisper
in his ear: "A moment in His presence, is worth a lifetime of searching."

Riley spun 'round, and his wet, beseeching eyes, searched mine to gauge the
truth of that statement. I held his bewildered gaze, and willed the teen to
know I meant it; that what I said with every ounce of my being was my word,
my promise to him. His face flushed, and in a choking voice, he whimpered:
"It hurts so much."

I hugged him in a fierce embrace as the dam broke, and he cried onto my
shoulder – great gulping sobs which seemed wrenched from an unfathomable
well of grief within. He shook as the waves convulsed his lanky frame, and
still I held on for dear life. Gently reassured him again and again, that
it was okay, he was okay, everything here was just peachy-keen fine, and
would be alright – just you wait and see.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun.

When I felt it safe to do so, I stepped back, holding Riley's sweaty hands
in my own. He subsided onto the bed – upright; not broken by any means,
but still in shock over what had just transpired.

I grabbed the tissue box from the bathroom and handed it to him. The boy
yanked them out by the handful and smeared his red-rimmed eyes. I took the
sodden tissues from him as he used them up, so the energy released wouldn't
accidentally become recycled. Allowed him as much time as he needed to
compose himself. When he dared look at me again, I could tell a shift had
taken place. The nervousness and fear had been replaced by peace.

"Wow,. Just... wow, " he exhaled in a long murmur. "Does that – whatever
it was - happen to everyone who comes here?"

I nodded. "Pretty much, Riley. Some people experience it bit-by-bit; some
think nothing happens at all, whilst others feel like they've been slammed
into a wall."

"No kidding!" He laughed. "Talk about shot at and missed, shit at and hit."

"Ha, ha." I agreed. "As they say in Hamlet: a hit, a palpable hit." I
stood. "Whether or not seekers believe they experienced anything in the
presence of a true Master or not, they have been impacted in ways they
cannot fathom. But the ego-mind cannot comprehend. It pops up to ask:
what's going on? I don't understand."

"Oh my, you're not wrong, there..." he sniffled, blew his nose.

"And He's not even here. Well, not physically."

Riley nodded, then stood up, stretched, then made a joke. "Great appetiser,
Alex. What's for mains?"

"Since you ask, I haven't shown you the healing room, yet. Are you sure you
are up for it?"

"For reals?" He asked, as if this was something I might have dreamed up
just to lead him on. "Never mind. Yeah, why not? May as well be
steam-rollered in the process."

I held out my hand to steady him. Riley accepted it. "Shall we go find
out?"

We made our way back downstairs – me, keeping a watchful eye on him as
he descended, because of possible 'after-shocks', but none
occurred. Perhaps they would in the sleep state.

The healing room had been a fourth bedroom, and converted not long after I
took over the house. There was a massage table, small couch, coffee table,
a couple of chairs, and portraits of well-known gurus, plus another of
Master. But what made Riley's jaw hit the floor, was the number and size of
the crystals. Not just the large Amethyst geodes, but the rose quartz
sphere holding pride of place at the north wall altar. His eyes were out on
stalks. He glanced at me with begging eyes. I gestured: help yourself. He
almost bounded over the massage table to take in the deep rose pink
goldfish-bowl sized quartz.

"It's... so alive..." he said breathlessly.

I nodded. "Yes, she's a good worker, that one. All of them, are." All
included: smokey quartz clusters, citrines, clear quartz generators, wands,
selenites from a new mine; and tumbled healing crystals in a bowl.

"Hubba, hubba. Now I get why people come from far and wide."

"It's nice to see someone open-minded about it, Riley." I was genuinely
delighted. "That said, only those who are meant to find the ashram, find
it. Other people somehow miss the turn off or end up losing the
instructions to get here. Book, but never show up. They're not ready, so to
speak." I chuckled. "Which is why you're quite a fascinating chela." At
that, Riley turned on one of his impish smiles. I waxed into
stillness. "Oh, heck. Out with it, kiddo. Spill the beans."

He came back over to me, and flung his arms around my neck. "I guess I owe
you that, my White-Knight-in-disguise." He tittered. "When I wasn't talking
a great deal in the car, it was because I was checking you out."

Now it was my turn to be surprised. "Checking me out? How?" I tried to keep
suspicion out of my voice. He didn't have the ever-present smartphone in
his hand, like most youth; I certainly hadn't preplanned any of it, nor he,
so....?

"My grandmother I mentioned before?" I remembered. He went on. "Well, long
story, short: the main reason she - Stella - had a soft spot for me, is
that she taught me how I can see things – auras, especially – and
sometimes predict events before they happen."

The light was dawning. "You knew I was going to pull over?" Riley shook his
head in the negative. "No. I can't see for myself. Well, very seldom. But I
was sussing out your vibe as we headed up the motorway."

"Oh." I knew that I knew stuff, but still, it felt a tad
uncomfortable". Presumably, it was to your liking."

He kissed me. It felt... delicious, and at the same time, a perfect fit;
meant to be. "That answer it, Wise One?"

"Cheeky." I broke off, played with a small tabbie crystal nearby. "No
wonder you seemed to just take it all in your stride. That's very
admirable. I put it down to exhaustion and not having the will to argue
otherwise.

"Yes, miracles – if you want to call them that – happen in this
house, as you just found out – and it goes without saying that I should
be used to the effect Guruji has on people, but it still astounds me, the
ways in which the Divine works." I shook my head. "Back on topic for a
minute: only healing modalities happen in this room. No one ever sleeps in
here, unless they drift off during a session. You can make an appointment
with any of the devotees at any time, provided there's a space for you in
the book. It doesn't cost, but a donation is appreciated. I'll fill you in
later with who does what. Actually, they'll tell you that, themselves." I
ushered him out of the room. "Time to get changed, yeah?"

Riley turned. Bit his lip. "Would you mind if I don't go back to my old
clothes? Sorry, I feel bad, 'cos you cleaned them for me, but I just --"

"It's not a problem in the slightest," I interrupted him. "I have to go to
Westfield later, so you may as well tag along and we can look at buying you
some new gears. In the meantime, if you don't mind wearing overalls,
there's a clean pair out next to the ride-on mower."

"Thanks a million."

"No sweat. Usually unwanted clothes are dropped into a clothing recycle
bin, but in your case, I think the small fire in the lounge next to where
you'll be sleeping, would be a great idea. A ceremonial letting go, if you
like. Of your ... colourful past."

"You read my mind, Zander."

I snorted. "That's a first, bro." Waited to see if he'd rise to it.

He playfully thumped my shoulder. "I don't believe you for one, second."

I shrugged. "Me neither."

I was careful not to make fun of Riley once he was in the overalls, but he
beat me to the punch. He decided that all that was missing, was a corn cob
to gnaw on, curved pitchfork to carry around, and an orge or two to
frighten away. Failing that, a decent Christian fundamentalist would
suffice, thanks.

I pointed out the hen house adjacent to the pool and told him he was
welcome to clean it out any time the overwhelming desire to play Farmer
Jones possessed him. Grinning from ear-to-ear he replied that it was unwise
to call his bluff on anything, as sure as eggs are eggs, he'd go do what I
commanded. Regardless of how nasty, crazy or idiotic it looked. Ah, I
mused: the Boy With No Shame. He liked that.

Riley also seemed to like seeing his old clothes go up in flames inside the
small woodstove. He encouraged me to splash some meths on it to ensure they
burnt to a cinder, but I politely declined. Having the entire ashram go up
in flames was not my idea of purifying everything. Instead, I let him toss
in a couple of coal firestarters inside an egg carton. He was content with
that, and gave encouragement to the flames, inviting them to 'burn dat
bitch to the ground.' Whether he meant clothing or an actual person, I
couldn't say, but wasn't very surprised by the passion of his vehemence.

On the way to the Westfield shopping complex in Albany, Riley gave me some
insight into his perspective on life, by filling me in on the first few
years of his childhood, where he'd been born and raised in the country. For
example, by the age of four, he was the only one in his family who could go
into the chicken run, and coax the hens into laying an egg right into his
hand. Even April never managed it – her one effort at animal husbandy
failed when a hen took an instant dislike to her, and viciously pecked her
tiny hand.

It seems I have a Dr. Doolittle in the passenger seat, I suggested. A nod
of assent. Got called that a lot when I was a kid, he continued to
reminisce. Until my mates in school came up with another nickname: Riley,
Ace of Spades. Nothing to do with the TV series: Reilly, Ace of Spies,
after which he'd been christened, but actually because for months, the one
and only card trick he could perform flawlessly, was to find the Ace of
Spades, anywhere in a deck of cards without seeing it face up at any
time. Even his friends who brought their own decks to school, thinking he
might have used a fake one, couldn't explain it when he came up trumps
again and again. But after he'd done the rounds of the small rural school
with his magic skills, they soon lost interest when other cool things were
discovered, and Riley went back to mastering endless games of Last Card
with his classmates, and Gin Rummy with Stella.

We found a space at the crowded carpark. "I know magicians never reveal
their secrets, but I'm sure enough time has lapsed to kiss-and-tell without
spoiling it for the audience." What had made me use that phrase?

Riley slouched his hands in his pocket as we headed inside the mall. "Well,
if anyone else was to ask me, I would just smile enigmatically at them, but
I know you'd get the reason, Alex. You won't think I'm cuckoo."

I drumrolled my fingers on a nearby ATM as we passed it. "And that reason
would be...?"

"No biggie. I just somehow knew when the ace was in my hands. A gut hunch,
you might say."

"Inner knowing cannot be explained."

"Exactly." He pursed his ruby lips. "It was also why I never played
blackjack or poker for money, once I realised I knew what cards everyone
had."

I laughed. "A gambling Guardian Angel on your shoulder. Must ask for one of
those, some day."

"But before you ask: no, it doesn't work for Lotto."

Hallensteins had a 25% off Menswear sale, so we went in there and spent a
good hour of our time, with Riley entertaining me as he tried on various
combinations of clothing outfits and prancing around the shop like he owned
the place. His mimicry of fashion models and their demands, was both
hilarious and hideous to witness, but no one seemed to mind the outrageous
performance unfolding in front of them. I had a few compliments from other
shoppers who praised me for bringing up such an uninhibited, free-wheeling,
son – or words to that effect. It seem churlish to correct them.

When we took our wares to pay at the counter, the Assistant Manager gave us
extra discount for pulling in more customers. I paid for Riley's new
clothes with my debit card, and told him it was my shout. He insisted on
giving me some of his hard-earned cash, but I wouldn't let him hand over
more than a hundred. So he threatened to get even. Loading the bags in the
tiny boot of the Swift, I said I couldn't possibly imagine what that meant,
but taking a wild stab in the dark, that it no doubt had something to do
with being touchy-feely. He poked out his tongue at me, and declared that
flattery would get me nowhere. I accused him of stealing my line. "I don't
see your name on it," came the retort. Touchι.

Lunch was Thai from the Khun Pun restaurant just up the top of the
hill. This time, Riley wasn't taking no for an answer when it came to
paying. Nor would he accept that in doing so, he was a) trying to buy his
way in to my heart, b) incapable of going Dutch or pay for two people,
anyway, and c) it wasn't to be taken as a bribe, so don't even think of
suggesting it (I wasn't). He folded his arms smugly as we left the
premises. "I can earn, buster" he reminded me yet again. "And I'm not
talking about my dick, thankyouverymuch." I just laughed and shook my
head. What was that about being open and spontaneous? Riley struck me as
the very embodiment of both. I found myself warming to it, faster than I
thought I might. It wasn't that I was holding back – okay, scrub that: I
was... I'd said it enough times: no hanky-panky. But heck, if it seemed
even remotely likely that anyone could dismantle that obstacle with
unabashed glee, it was clearly going to be Riley, Ace of Spades - card
shark and all-round cheeky, handsome, smart, man-child. I could only wonder
at what the Universe had lined up for me, next.