The Boyfriend

Chapter 1 "Love Story"

We sat there in the dark, staring at a movie that bored me to tears and I couldn't even bitch about that because I had picked it. That's the worst part of being out on a date, when you pick the wrong thing and you can't stand it after awhile, you have to live with it. And from what I could see Jamie was actually enjoying it so I didn't want to just lean over to him and say let's get out of here. If you've ever seen "Unbreakable", you know what I mean. In the TV ads they made it sound like another "Sixth Sense," but this story line was so bad it couldn't be hawked as a cheap comic book to a ten year old. I mean how lame CAN it be? Security Guard becomes Super Hero. Bruce Willis as a guy who gives up a career in pro sports for love. Right. Like Bruce Willis could give a damn about anything besides himself. Calls for more acting ability than he'll ever have to bring that off. But I had picked the movie, so Jamie had gone along with it just like he always did. Jamie goes along with almost everything I say anyway. Jamie always gives in to what I want. Sometimes I think its because he's too damn dumb to come up with anything by himself. No, that's not fair. Jamie isn't dumb. He's not the quickest guy in the world sometimes, but he isn't dumb even though a lot of people get that idea. He's 6'2" and weighs almost 200lbs, and none of it fat, either---we are talking solid guy here. Ever see one of those Marine recruiting posters? That's Jamie. Square jawed, rock solid all-American boy. Well, except for the earrings, but he only wears two at a time. His hair is the blondest you could find without the use of hair dye and his eyes are the clearest, hardest blue this side of the polar sky. He's 17, almost 18, and a senior in high school. Not in the highest jock group, but a jock anyway, just second string football. He'll smile at you and just tell you that he doesn't have the killer instinct to make the first squad, and that's the truth. He's gentle, soft spoken, and generous. He is that guy you hear about who would give you the shirt off his back. In spite of his size, he was never the bullying or intimidating kind. The chicks at school worship him, but they all think he's just too shy for his own good because he never dates. Even my older sister Donna said she'd drag him in back of the stadium and do him, and the one thing her soon to be ex-husband and I ever agreed on was she had the sex drive of a seventy year old nun. They laid in wait for him, but he just smiled and eased out of it, playing the big good-hearted dufus, too slow to pick up on what they were after. Or rather what they wanted to give him. See, Jamie has a big secret and that is me. Jamie likes his boys, and right now I am his boy. I am not his first. Sometimes I pray to God that I am not his last. Tonight was one of those times. Now, with all this going for him, you'd think that I had to be some kind of knockout myself, right? Ermmmmmm, not quite. I'm 5'6", kind of blah light brown hair, and that pale yellowy-brown eye color that my mother calls hazel. Soaking wet I maybe weigh 128lbs (yeah, I make a note about every one of them). My Adam's apple is pronounced and my nose is just a BIT too big. Large mouth, too, and in more ways than one, but I do have a great smile if I have to give myself points for something. I'm no beastie but I'm really not much above ordinary. I am un-athletic to the point of being a wuss, and smart enough to almost get myself into the nerd category at school. Oh, I'm fit enough mind you; I like to run, but I would be a lousy candidate for the track team---I'm too short for the sprints, and my long distance pace keeps me tight but is never going to get me any trophies, so I just run for the sheer hell of it. It keeps me lean and tight. It also keeps me from bulking up at all so a lot of people think I'm like

15, even if I am 18. I'm good with a one-liner, so a lot of people like having me around, and that keeps me on the right side of the nerd line. Still... Unlikely couple, right? Not really. See, in our school neither of us knows with any certainty if there are more than two gay guys -- in other words, us. The odds are in our favor that there are more, but right now we only know about each other, so I guess you can say we fell in together by default. Lack of alternatives made us boy friends. Looking back of course I could make a story about how we found each other in a sea of despair, longing and loneliness; two kindred lost souls seeking each other out and falling madly in love. I wish. I've read all those stories up on the Nifty Archive, and I soak them up every chance I get because there's this big mushy romantic in me. I wanted that first scary stolen kiss, that big scene where we look into each other's eyes and tell each other how much we have secretly yearned for one another for all these many years, where we kiss and hear the choir and see the fireworks, when we both decide it's to be us against the straight world forever. But the reality was more like . . . well, read it here. God, that whole thing was such a mess, more from the stroke story section than Teen Love Stories.... ***** It was August, the summer of 2000 fading fast, and even though the sun had slipped down, the sky was still way too bright for me when I slid my Tercel into the Route 3 rest area and grabbed the first spot I could. I'd heard about the place in jokes, and even checked it out on-line at a cruising site. Huh. A cruising site for cruising sites. Kewl, huh? I'd been scouting it out during broad daylight since June and been telling myself that I was going to give it a try. Here it was, just two weeks before Labor Day and the start of my senior year, and I still didn't have the balls to go in. I had decided back in June that this was going to be the summer that I did It. The big It, the one every teenage boy, straight or gay, yearns for, fantasizes about, lies about. This was going to be the summer I got laid. I had a driver's license, access to a car, trusting parents who went away a lot, an older sister who had gotten married and moved out and a job to finance my cruising. It was a great job, too. I had managed to get a spot at Borders' Books up at The Loop, the new shopping center. Now, I know that working at a book store doesn't sound all that cool, but Border's also has a great music section (can you say discount on CDs?), a small but trendy clothing section (ok, accessories and caps, but the stuff is way cooler than what you usually see), and a reputation for a great gay magazine and literary section. That meant plenty of gay guys, right? And some of them had to be young; maybe not as young as me, but close enough. Besides, I'd be eighteen in the fall anyway, when I started my senior year. Why couldn't I hook up with some kewl college stud that dropped by for the latest issue of Advocate or Genre? It was an option, and I had decided that this summer I was going to explore all my options. Borders' was one step in my master plan of Getting Laid. My schedule would be a mix of days and evenings, and I figured if I had a day shift, I could use the time in the evening to hit the mall up in Salem and do a little looking around there. An evening shift gave me time to hit the beach in Salisbury or Hampton, and I had a modest selection of immodest Speedos to attract attention. I may be short and slender (jeez, that DOES sound better than skinny), but I am tight, and my running had given me a great set of legs and a pretty good ass. I filled the front nicely too; I'm no monster down there, but there is plenty to fill one of those snug little pouches. Besides, I love the beach. Short and skinny yes, but at least I'm one of those guys that actually bronzes nicely with only a mild sunscreen, and my normally dull light brown hair gets these wild NATURAL golden high lights running through it. So each day I

combed the beach, hanging out at the State Reservation Pavilion (I had been hearing rumors about that place since I was old enough to know what sex was) and checking out the Black Rocks Barrier that protected the mouth of the non-existent harbor of the Merrimack River. I spent hours sunning myself in those tight little suits and trying to look sexy. I guess I did to a degree, because I always had chicks moving in on me. The attention was nice but the gender was the wrong one for me, and I wondered where all the gay men were that supposedly came here looking for young guys. If they were there, they didn't seem to notice me much. The best I ever got was in invite for some pick-up volleyball. Aside from that about the only male attention I got was from Officer Paul Cayman, who after seeing me three days a week for the month of July sort of wandered over to me one afternoon. "Go easy kid." "Huh?" "Just a word of warning---go easy. If you're selling, move on. If you're giving it away, that's cool, just don't get caught. If you do, I promise you the lock-up and a call to your parents." I know I turned red, and I started to protest, but he just turned and walked off. I did notice he had a great ass. Wasn't that old, either. Probably a summer cop, some college guy picking up some bucks and college credits in criminal justice by protecting the summer sun people of the Massachusetts beaches. I took his word to heart though, and spent some extra time up in Hampton. There were a lot of guys up that way, too. But every now and again I'd still go to Salisbury... hoping... and avoiding Officer Cayman. The Mall at Rockingham Park in Salem, NH also became one of my favorite areas. How many stories had I read about pickups at malls? You dressed cool, shopped, hung out on the benches or played in the arcade and sooner or later some hot stud dripping with sincerity and honesty moves on you and the two of you head off to his place. To be honest this one guy did check me out every time I went. He was about fifty, had a face that looked like he had been walloped not with the ugly stick, but actually had the whole forest land on him. He was damn nice though, and while he never got insistent about anything or made a nuisance of himself, you got the idea that he would be more than happy to help a young guy out. Then he'd be off, and every now and then he would see me and just say hi and stop for a couple minutes of casual conversation before moving off. He never hinted at sex. Sometimes I kept an eye on him to see who else he spoke to, but he ran one of those booths selling cheap jewelry and gaudy paintings so he knew pretty much everyone. I suppose if I had just asked, he would have steered me the right way, but I never did. A couple of times I did sense some eye contact and flirting from a distance from other directions and those few times damned if I didn't suddenly start running into almost everyone I knew. Timing was all. My timing seemed to truly suck. Well, my three-pronged assault on losing my virginity seemed to fizzle. I saw a lot of copies of gay magazines and novels passing over the counter, but generally they were either too old or just plain not interested in a kid. Most of them would stare at the counter while I rang up the sale like I didn't exist, or maybe they were hoping they didn't. The only bright spots were my manager Karen (well, one of the assistant managers really) who had to be the funniest chick I ever met, and Dave Sciuoto. I knew Dave somewhat from school. He was a good-looking guy with black hair and eyes almost as dark. He was short but still taller than me, and a similar slender build but it all seemed to go together a lot different with him. He had one of those bodies that clothes hung on just right, whether they came from Macy's or Wall-Mart. His features were fine and even, and everything registered on his very expressive face. You always knew what kind of mood Dave was in, and it was usually a good one. Not that he was that annoying type of "sees some good in everything", but he was really a great guy. He had a stunner of a smile exposing teeth that would never need an orthodontist and an even better laugh. He was Italian (like Sciuoto could be

anything else, right?) with that slightly olive skin. Years of middle school and high school gym classes and showers told me he was almost hairless, way different from the other Italian kids in the school who were already turning into hair rugs (oh and hey, I know what you're thinking, and yeah, I DO look around in the locker room and I admit it. And I've caught more than one other straight(?) kid checking to see how he compares. Difference between them and me is they don't have to give the cold water an extra twist in the shower). Dave also had something else that was terrific. Remember that Kodak commercial awhile back, the one where they're passing around some cheap camera and one of the girls snaps a picture of this dude's VERY nice ass just before the teacher grabs it? Well that's what Dave's ass looked like. I mean it was the perfect picture of young male butthood, and that perfection was how Karen picked up on me being gay. She must have caught me checking it more than once but never really said anything. But one day I was going over some order lists at the main counter and Dave was working on a display, bent over and just a few feet away. I must have had that dazed look I sometimes get when I am miles away from reality. She saw me and busted me for it. After that she busted something else on me every chance she got, but she never said a word to anyone else, especially Dave. She even admired my taste. "Ask him out." "Huh?" "I said 'Ask him out.' What have you got to lose?" My mouth got very small and my eyes very wide "You mean Dave's..." "I have no idea, but what the hell? He's cute. He's nice. What have you got to lose?" I slumped down and looked up at her. "How long have you been out of high school, Karen?" She didn't answer of course, just narrowed her eyes some and gave me That Look women use when their age comes up. The question is not an appropriate one. "Ok, try and think way, WAY back when. What happened to the gay kid when you went to school?" She did that Dana Scully thing with her lips. "He got the shit kicked out of him." I nodded. "I go to school with Dave, Karen. He might very well be like me, but if he isn't, I go back this September and he drops the 'g' word, I spend nine months in hell." "Massachusetts has laws, Chris. School's are safe havens for gay youth." "They have laws against criminal assault when you were my age?" "......" "And make no mistake about it Karen, a teacher or guidance counselor can still use the term 'gay youth' and make it sound like 'fuckin faggot.'" She sighed, scowling some. "High School still sucks, I guess." I leaned forward on the counter and sighed my agreement. She rubbed the back of my neck, and her voice had that low soothing sound some people can do. "Your time will come, Chris. You're cute and cool and nice. One day, if you play your cards right, it will come." "Oh, it comes all right. It's just my right hand is getting worn out playing solitaire." She laughed, and swatted me across the butt. "There's a new shipment loaded with stuff for the Gay Studies and Literature section, and I saw this really hot looking pair of college boys browsing over there a few minutes ago. Why don't you go over and do some stock?" My eyebrows shot up. "Just remember though, take 'em into the back room for the orgy, ok? That's new carpeting over there and I don't want stains all over everything. I was very mature, and stuck my tongue out at her. "And Chris? You're right. Dave's IS great," she said, and took my place leaning

on the counter pretending to go over the order sheets while Dave was still bent over his display. I sniggered as I went off and busied myself unpacking a box of stuff while the two college guys looked everything over excluding me, I think, but all they did was giggle once or twice and they left. And that's where things had stood all that summer -- me looking and wishing, hanging out and peeking, and day-dreaming about Dave Sciuoto's backside. Then one Friday I just couldn't take it any more. I had been toting a half rock inside my Dockers all day at work, and about an hour before my shift ended I decided I was going to do more than just hang at the mall or wander aimlessly at Hampton that night. My parents were going away for the weekend and I was going to be on my own, so I had the perfect situation going for me if I could just find someone else to share it with. I knew this time my hand and the few improvised "toys" I had acquired were not going to cut it tonight. I at least had to try something different or I was going to go out of my mind. Thank God Dave was off that day or I would probably have made a move on him in the stock room. I raced home in my beat up Tercel and threw my clothes off as I made my way to the upstairs, headed for the shower which I immediately cranked up to cold hoping to take the edge off things. It worked for a while, but after slipping on a pair of shorts and a tee and some flip flops I could feel it stirring again by the time I got down to the kitchen. I had half a bologna sandwich thrown together when I just said, "screw this" and hoped I had remembered to lock the door when I came in and that my parents hadn't suddenly made a U-turn on the highway today. My man business didn't take long. ***** So, here we are again. The August sun has finally gone down and its gradually beginning to darken and I am sitting in a rest area on Route 3. It's one of the old style ones, a sharp ramp off the highway, and plenty of woods around it. Picnic tables and a big map, but no "facilities" as they call them except for a quick step off to the side behind some trees. It's Friday evening, and the highway itself is packed with vacation travelers heading for the mountains of New Hampshire and shoppers for the "bargains" in the no-sales-tax state, just prices that are 5-10% higher than these same people would have paid in Massachusetts. I sat in the car, the woods blocking the sight and a lot of the sounds of the rushing motorway and looked around me. It was just that hour I guess they call twilight, when the shadows begin and things start becoming a little less distinct. There were half a dozen cars in here already including my own. One guy who was maybe forty was walking up and down the cracked asphalt sidewalk, looking each car over and presumably the occupant as well. Oh, yeah, occupant, as in singular. According to the website that led me here, this rest area was one of the crusiest spots in northern Middlesex County. I don't know how they polled it, but they guaranteed that 90% of those stopping would be gay men looking for.... companionship. Sounded good to me. I was tired of being in the minority every place I went. Anyways, the old dude was checking things out and taking his time about it. Eventually it was my turn --- I had taken the first spot I saw when I came in, just off the ramp. That way I figured I could keep a better eye on things. He paused, looking directly at me, and smiled. I froze in my seat with my head aimed straight ahead, shaking a bit and desperate not to show it. Shit, what if he starts to hit on me? What was I going to say? Yeah I thought I might be approached by some older guys, but somehow when I thought of older I pictured some guy in his twenties, not someone almost my dad's age. I mean he wasn't bad to look at really, no gut or anything and he was dressed nice and all, but DAMN I didn't want my first time to be with someone who COULD have been the father of one of my friends. Bisexuality exists, right? The potential was there. If I had to meet a bi guy, I'd just rather he was out of the daddy danger zone.

I heard a quiet laugh and saw him move back up the row. He approached one of the cars, and leaned forward to talk to someone. Just they way he stood and talked told me they knew one another. He looked back at me, and then a head was stuck out the window and this other not-so-older guy looked my way, and I could hear them both laughing. I sat there, fuming. Just what was so damned funny? Were they so old they couldn't remember what it was like the first time? Weren't they ever seventeen and so horny they didn't know what else to do? Or maybe they did remember, and it was the memory of their own nervousness that triggered their laughter. I smiled a bit then, and shook my head. If nothing else, they had both just helped me to relax. It also ticked me off enough to make a decision. I checked the face and hair in the mirror. Great tan, I thought, and those high lights in my normally dishwater hair were great. I had worn a white A&F polo (not too baggy, and not too long I hoped; I had enough problems trying to look over fifteen), and had spent some time picking out a pair of shorts that were just right. Not long, not the shapeless cargo shorts everybody (including me) wore. These were a pair of red running shorts, cut a bit high. I had skipped underwear, but they had a nice jock in the crotch to keep the goods from flopping around too much but loose enough to allow for easy access if The Moment ever came. Cotton, too. That silky synthetic stuff manufacturers use looks good and feels nice and hangs right in all the best places just the right way, but eeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww they hold in the heat and the sweat. I didn't want someone to get a whiff and gag on me. Well, yeah gagging was ok maybe but I didn't want them doing it because of the smell. I had debated wearing a hat, but today my hair was an asset and I wanted it on display. Sandals sounded like a kewl idea and looked good, until I thought about the woods. I dug out a pair of plain white Nikes. I had tried my "casual" act in front of the full-length mirror at home leaning and standing different ways, trying out different expressions that would make me look cool and sexy. Everything from Aguilar Sultry Sex Pot to Brendan Behr Naivete. Of course I looked ridiculous. Then there were the "enhancements'. At one point I even tried out a sock in the crotch thinking that might help some. That just made me look ridiculous and deformed. Besides, a casual brush of the hand would tip off anyone only interested in size that I was faking it. In the end I decided it was pointless trying these things out, so I just settled for what I thought would make me look kind of hot which was just how I was, and aside for a pair of small silver hoop earrings (can't I just remember the bitching when I came home with those on the first time) left everything else the way it was. I figured if I could walk and talk and not trip over my tongue I would do just fine. Except I wasn't doing just fine. The twilight turned to night, and the cars came and went at a steady stream. I could see shadows slipping into the woods. A few times I could hear someone let out a deep moan not more than a few feet from me. I could see the guys walking, leaning against the hoods of their cars, sitting on picnic tables. Sometimes they paired up and talked a bit and moved on. Sometimes they got into each of their cars and drove off. A few just got into the car of one or the other and then you'd see a head suddenly disappear. Others drifted into the woods, while others came out hurriedly and drove off. Some actually peeled out. Me, I sat in my cramped Toyota trying to get up the nerve just to open the door and step into the night. I had been thinking of doing that for over an hour now. Then suddenly I did, and was standing beside my car, kicking the door shut. I shuffled over and plopped myself down on the hood. There must have been thirty-five cars in here now, all single occupancy, parked on either side of the driveway and pulled up onto the grass when the strip narrowed down. I glanced at the woods, but decided I wasn't that nuts. I'm only 5'6", and while 90% of the guys in here

were gay (or so they said) I didn't much want to wind up running into one of the minority who thought it might be fun to beat up on a small gay guy. Yes, I HAVE heard of Matthew Shepherd, thank you. And while what I was doing wasn't all that smart or all that safe, there were limits to just how dumb I was going to be. I wasn't about to wander from my car. And no matter how horny I was (and believe me, I was) I was NOT going to go running into those woods, or just jump at the first guy who made a move. We would talk for some first, get to know each other a little. Being friends is important, right? Oh, sure, I was looking for friendship. Then, after a while... "Hey stud." "Huh?" A silhouette stepped out of the darkness. Then some of the moonlight hit his face, and I could make out his features. Not bad, I thought. Bigger than me, but who wasn't? Maybe mid-twenties, nice build. Strange build though--- muscular arms and chest, real narrow at the waist but skinny legs. Tats and no shirt. VERY small cut offs. Work boots? Well, weird but kind of cute. "Jesus baby, you just out of grade school?" A rough, harsh voice I didn't take to. "I'm seventeen!" "Uh, huh. Almost legal. Young hung and full of...." Then he grabbed my dick. I panicked, tried to pull myself back but he was all over me in a second, blocking my escape and almost face to face. I could smell beer, and sweat...and something ugly. No, his face wasn't ugly, anything but. But his attitude was. "C'mon baby lets go into them woods and I can show you the best time you'll ever have." "...um..." "Whatsa matter, baby? Little chicky boi afraid of the big hung stud?" "Look... please.... " "Yeah, you'll be saying please," he said and leaned his face into mine and took a nip on my nose. "Please sir, go deeper." Then my chin. "Please sir, go harder." He bit my lower lip. "Please sir, pass me to your friends. So, you ready for some real action kid?" I was scared, more scared than I had ever been of anything else. He had both my wrists pinned to the hood, leaning me back so I could get no leverage on him. My legs were spread and he pressed himself straight into my crotch, kicking my feet wider to throw me off balance. I was leaned back over the hood and there was no way I could bring a knee up to hit anything that would do any good. "Come on chicken boy, give your new daddy a kiss..." He was airborne. I didn't know how, I didn't know why. I didn't care. I saw him jerk back suddenly, rise up, and fly into the side of a trash bucket. I stood there shaking for a few seconds and came to one of the better decisions I would make that night. I got back into my car and did my best to make the Tercel leave its first patch of rubber, ever. Aside from a quick check to see if I had wet myself (I hadn't) the only thing I did was drive the thirty odd miles back to Haverhill as quickly as I could. I screeched to a halt in the drive way and hit the ground before the engine had even died and ran inside, fumbling the lock and looking over my shoulder. Common sense told me the freak was still back on Rte 3 wondering what the hell had hit him, but another part of me wanted the safety of my house, of my bedroom, of my bed, and my covers pulled up over my head. I slammed and locked the door behind me in one move, and leaned against it panting. Then I staggered into the kitchen, shaking, and opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. I never did much care for the stuff, still don't, but I wanted something that might give me a buzz and I didn't have a clue how mixed drinks worked. Beer you just opened and swilled. Swilling was good. That was safe, that was easy. I checked the clock in the kitchen. Only 9:45. Two and a half hours ago I had looked at that same clock and swore the next time I saw it I wasn't going to be a virgin any more. Right now I was thankful I was breathing. I just sat and

drank. I almost stopped shaking when I heard a knock at the door. I froze. Jesus, how the hell did he find me? Another knock, just a bit louder than last time, followed by one of those almost-shout whispers. "Chris?" If it was my buddy from the rest area, his voice had a familiar tone to it although I couldn't quite place it. I knew the voice, just not well. I slowly narrowed the distance between the door and me. I could see a large frame outlined by the porch light. Hesitation. Terror? Oh yeah, terror. I pulled back the sheer hanging there and looked out. I knew that face and I sighed in relief. It was Jamie Levesque, not my attacker, thank God. I knew him from school, but far from well. We traveled in different circles. We never had any problems but we never spoke much either. He was in a few of my classes, too. What the hell was he doing here? I opened the door, trying to smile, trying not to shake. As soon as it opened he grabbed my shoulders with both hands, gripping my shoulders so hard in those incredibly big hands of his it hurt. He leaned down some (6'2", remember?) and looked me directly in the eyes. He spoke in that odd voice of his, a low register with a breathless quality. Remember the classic dumb jock Dauber on TV a few years ago? Jamie sounds like that. Somehow when he went to speak the first sound you expected to hear was "duh." A lot of people hearing him, seeing him for the first time always assumed 'just another dumb jock' but in reality Jamie was smarter than most. "Buddy are you ok?" I never really knew what flabbergasted was until that moment. "Well ... yeah ... why shouldn't I be?" What's up with this? Relief registered on his face. "When that guy grabbed you I thought he hurt you is all, and I had to make sure you were all right." Panic. Jamie had seen me? Omigod. Quick, think of a reason to be there. "Don't worry Chris, he won't be able to hurt you again. Or anyone else for that matter, at least for awhile." His hands were still on my shoulders, gripping me. Totally unexpected, he pulled me to his chest and hugged me close, so close I had trouble breathing. "Jesus, I'm so glad you're ok." I was confused, and still scared, and was having a little trouble breathing from the bear hug I was getting so I tried pushing this hulk back. "What are you talking about Jamie? Umm, I mean, I've been home all night...," I started unconvincingly. He eased me back, but his arms were still on my shoulders. He was grinning, and there was mischief in his eyes. "C'mon, Chris. I know that car out there, and the hood's still hot from screamin' down the highway. And if someone else was driving it, damn if he wasn't dressed same as you, and damn if he didn't LOOK just like you." Trapped. I was about to be outed. I knew that. One of the reasons I had driven almost thirty miles to Rte 3 was the hope of avoiding anyone from Haverhill. There's a good cruisy spot here in town by the river and there's a big gay dance club on Water Street I could have at least hung around if not in. But of course, that meant I could have been spotted oh, so easy and I was oh, so ready NOT to come out. Just over the state line on I-93 was another rest area that was the same story-way too close. Rte 3 is remote for us, and that far south and west is completely out of the way for anyone from here. I was busted big time and I knew it. One hand cupped my chin gently and he tilted my head up to his. Jamie had this big ass smile on his face, his eyes glowed in his head. "Don't worry babe, its cool. I was there for the same thing." I stepped back and stared. He looked at the beer on the table. "Got another one of those?"

"Um, yeah, hold on." I popped another cold one for him. "LaBatts. Good stuff." He sipped some. I grabbed my can and guzzled again. "Hey, easy. I know you don't hang with the booze crew so that stuff will kick you fast." I opened another can for myself and took him into the living room. I dropped to the center of the couch. He slid in next to me, closer than he should have. He seemed relaxed. I was still scared out of my mind, my third shock of the night. I looked at Jamie. How could this guy be gay? He was built solid. He had a reputation for being one of the nicest guys at the school, which I had to admit was true, because even though we weren't really friends, whenever we had spoken he'd always been nice to me. He even slammed a guy who was giving me a hard time when we were freshmen. The guy had been a junior but he never bothered me again, and no one ever messed with Jamie after that. That included the guy he slammed, who actually got him into one of the better cliques at school. Girls fell on him, but he joked with the guys that he had plans and staying in Haverhill raising a kid wasn't one of them so they left him alone when he didn't nail them. Jesus, he played football too. He'd done some hockey for a while but passed on it after sophomore year. I mean, that was what I heard anyway. It wasn't like he and I had ever discussed it, or anything else for that matter. Now here he was sipping a beer with me, sitting next to me on my couch -- rather closely on my couch -- and he had basically told me he was gay. I gave it a shot. "So you were there for the same thing? You had to take a leak?" He gave me a look I can't describe but it said volumes. "Chris, you don't sit in your car for an hour and a half thinking of taking a leak. I saw you pull in. I was parked up on the grass way on the left. And I KNOW your car, Chris. We were both there for the same reason. I'll spell it out if I have to. We were both looking for a guy. A guy to have sex with." I was silent, starting to shake some; yeah, I was that scared. Then I felt his arm across my shoulders, and suddenly Jamie Levesque was very close and very much in gentle contact with me. I looked up into his face and saw nothing like the fear I felt, just deep concern and...what else? His arm across my back felt good. His large fingers suddenly caressing my cheek felt even better. He leaned into me, and I felt his full lips brushing lightly against mine. It was the best feeling I ever had. Don't ask me what happened next. We were flat out on the couch, angling around each other. I was trying to yank him on top of me and he was doing his damndest not to crush me. Then we were on the floor, and I was on top of him. We both started laughing. I jerked up and with a jolt of pain sent the coffee table over a few feet and then fell off him, still laughing. Suddenly I felt something cold dribbling down. The beers had spilled, and I was drenched with it. Jamie was grinning ear to ear as he took off his black tee and started mopping up first the carpet, then the table. "C'mon," I said. "Upstairs." "But the rug. Your mom...." "Would just wonder where the clean spot came from. Besides, they're coming to do the carpets down here tomorrow anyway." "So -- you said upstairs -- does that mean?" his eyebrows shot up. "Damn right it does. Unless you don't want to....." "NO! I mean, YEAH! I mean..... aw hell I don't know what I mean." "Well, I do. Upstairs and to the left." "Your parents..........." "Are up at Lake Winnepesaukee for the weekend. Won't be back till late Sunday." Then he startled me. He picked me up in his arms like I was a five year old, grinning at me like a six year old, and up the stairs we went. We stood in the door way to my room, stepped in, and he eased me down. I wrapped an arm around him, and he leaned down to kiss me again, not full tongue and

mouth like the last had turned into but just a sweet kiss. I took his hand and led him to the bed, a double. I could tell he was pleased it was a double looking at it. I tried to picture us in my old single. I snickered. Jamie looked at me questioning and I told him what I was thinking. He laughed. "Please. That's like a guy at U-Mass Lowell I was seeing for awhile. Bunk beds even. He had the upper bunk." I was shocked. "You mean you guys... with a room mate... " He shook his head. "Just when his roomie was out of town, or not coming back till late." I tried to picture it, and giggled. All that -- meaning Jamie -- and another guy, in a narrow upper bunk? I looked Jamie over again. No shirt this time, just his powerful chest, and I was fascinated with his nipples. They were rock hard and standing out. I wanted to taste those, pinch those, and finger those... I reached into my pocket deliberately, and trying for nonchalance emptied the contents. A string of Sheiks. Then several small "personal- sized" tubes of KY. I was sending a message here and I wanted to make sure it was read. Jamie read very well, and ran his fingers slowly up my rib cage, but he shook his head. "I don't use those," he said. I stepped back. "Look, Jamie, I'm sorry..." "Because I need these," he added, and reached into the pocket of his black jeans and pulled out several black packets and handed them to me. Condoms I saw, but a bigger package. I looked at the gold lettering on the black plastic. 'Magnum.' I felt the size of the ring and this time it was my eyebrows that shot up. "Yours would just split open on me, Chris. I mean I'm clean and all, no worries there, but still..." I swallowed hard. "I've never... I mean... " "We don't have to do it that way." "Yes. We do," I stated firmly. He picked up a smooth wooden cylinder about ten inches long with a tapered, rounded end. I had sanded it very smooth, and coated it heavily with urethane. He was smiling. "I got something like this at home," he said with a smirk. Then he looked at me with that killer grin of his again. "I guess you're not a complete virgin, huh?" I smiled some myself just then. "The net is a wonderful thing. Funny what you can pick up on the Web," I said innocently. "Not to mention along the highway. 'It's Only Me From Across The Sea'?" "Yeah, but he suggested starting with a candle. I've had to move on." He stripped his pants off and stood in front of me. His look was different, very serious. So was his voice. "Now, listen. If you want it this way, okay we can try. If you don't think you can handle it, we stop, even if I'm all the way in. Even if I'm almost there, you call it and we stop. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You say the word. And if I think you're holding back, we stop anyway. I don't want to be taking you to the hospital for internal bleeding." "Awfully conceited about yourself, aren't you?" He kicked his boxers off. "Still think I'm conceited?" My jaw dropped. I just hoped the Magnum's were big enough. ***** The first time I heard someone talk about it, I just shrugged and figured it was just something someone said, nothing that was really possible, and even though I was too young then to understand what they were saying and had no concept of what gay was, it sounded interesting to me as an idea. Later on when I did understand things like gay, I still wondered if it was possible. Then one day on the net, I found out just how possible it was. I had thousands of pictures showing just how possible it was, and that a lot of men liked doing it and receiving it. Myself, I liked the whole idea of it, but I was fascinated with the receiving end of things. From the first moment I saw the image appear slowly

in my AOL browser proving that men could do exactly that to each other, I began looking at the guy on the bottom and thinking how much I wanted to be him. I read the stories, and gleaned information about how to ease into it. Some websites offered very clear and explicit instructions on just how a young virgin male could best prepare himself to receive. I practiced with a self-made dildo, that wooden cylinder. I enjoyed the feelings I had when it was inside me as I slowly stroked myself. I know when I used it I always came heavier. I understood how to relax my muscles, and learned to push down and not tighten up. Any average guy I could have probably taken easily, if slowly. But Jamie was very definitely not average. Even for an experienced man, taking Jamie would be a very slow and careful process. He did everything he could to make it easy for me, to relax me. He even did something else I had only imagined might happen some day, and I wasn't sure that I would be able to return the favor, but Jamie never hesitated for a moment. What he did felt incredible. He also told me later that it was something he truly enjoyed because he was doing it for my pleasure, not just something he was doing to make me feel better about things. Maybe, I thought to myself, one of these days I can return the favor... When he finished, his slicked fingers helped prepare me even more, and given his hands I was surprised when he announced he had inserted a third, and that we were ready to try. We took it slow and easy, first with me very slowly easing him into me by gradually lowering myself onto him. It took forever, we had to stop and sometimes I had to go up instead of down but finally I felt his body under my butt, and I totally relaxed. He thrust up some but slowly and carefully. I rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm setting our pace. Eventually, all the pain ebbed away and we gradually worked ourselves into the position I really wanted, that all my fantasies told me was the right way. I looked at that handsome face above me, covered with sweat, heard his heavy breathing. I locked my legs around his neck and pulled him down onto me trying to make him increase his pace, but he was slow and steady, still afraid that if he really let go it would hurt me. Then his jaw locked up and a sudden hard, savage thrust almost split me in half. I know I yelped. I knew what had happened. And I was in heaven, knowing that I had brought him the deep pleasure so much different than the pleasure he had been giving to me so slowly and steadily for.... I have no idea. It had seemed to take forever but it still wasn't long enough. He eased out of me, and I heard a popping sound and suddenly I felt so empty, and so weak. Slowly he began kissing my body. The he gave me my second First that night (well, third if you count the kissing...oh yeah and fourth for the way he loosened me up). Jamie could do magic things with his mouth, and he did as many to me as he could before the oh-so-short fuse in me went off. I lay there content, waiting for him to just draw close to me and take me in his arms again. In all the stories I had ever read, it was always the same; the guy spoons you, and the two of you drift off into blissful sleep. Deep sensuous dreams, and a magic morning after. I was ready for it, all of it. That's when romance died. I felt this sharp crack across my backside and heard those hellishly fateful words. "Dude, that was one awesome hump. What say we hook up?"

Chapter 2 "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner"

I felt his hand again and shot Jamie a look. "Listen," I hissed. "We're in a public place. Knock it off, ok?"

I got a face and another kind of look. "There's three other people in the whole damn theatre," he muttered. "All of 'em sitting way down front. I've got our coats piled here, so who's gonna know?" "I'll know. How many times have I got to tell you? If we're alone and somewhere safe, hey anything goes. But this thing you got for public places is something else." He didn't look happy, but his hand slid back under the armrest and we returned to the movie. He'd lost interest now I could tell, but we were in this deep so I let it go. Couldn't be more than fifteen minutes or so left. Bruce Willis and what's-his-name were at a party, and I was kind of hoping that maybe something interesting might happen. They looked to be teaming up as a crime fighter unit, and it was scary to think this dog might have "Unbreakable 2" written all over it. God, what if it became a TV series on UPN or something? No, not UPN, they were too high end for this. The WB, yeah that was the place for it. I shuddered. That just meant more time on the net for me. Or with Jamie, but that was starting to sound a little less appealing these days. No, I shouldn't say that. He may not be all the things I used to dream about (fantasize? Yeah, that's more honest), and I grouse about him a lot, but I still remember that long summer of looking for someone, anyone, and thinking that was enough. Now I had a boyfriend, and that made things better. I didn't stare into space thinking about what things could be like, now I knew. I also knew there were drawbacks, because gawd-damn people are just not what you want them to be sometimes. For example Jamie was the perfect sex machine, but he was kind of short in the romantic moods department, and he had this thing about sneaking in stuff in public places. No, nothing gross but he liked grabbing when people were around and that bothered me. Couple-hood is a rough adjustment when you've been hiding out solo for as long as you can remember. Turning your head and seeing what you're lucky enough to have walking beside you is nice. But privacy suffers too, and sometimes you wind up finding out more than you wanted to know, and other people finding out more about you than you wanted them to know..... ***** Morning came, and when I rolled over I slammed myself against a wall that shouldn't have been there. My eyes weren't quite open yet but my hands told me this wasn't plaster. No, not a wall just a massive back, but I was pinned to a wall on the other side because Jamie was a bed hog. Another toss around by him and I could well be history. The only question I had was how did I get there? I knew I started off on the outside. Jesus, I must have been tired. I had already forgotten about Jamie. Last night was almost a dream now, but it came through to me quick enough and I smiled. I twitched a muscle and felt a comfortable ache in a certain place that I enjoyed. And the events, oh yes, the events... First Jamie had rescued me from a creep, and to show my appreciation I ran like hell to home, but then he followed me there to confront me with the facts of both our lives. Then he made love to me slowly and with the consideration of an angel, brought me to the plateau of bliss only to kick me off the ridge with a smack across the tail. In seconds he went from sensitive caring lover to seventeen-year-old horn dog who just got off. He was sorry enough after I chewed him out, but when he rolled over I swear I heard him giggling and I know the bed shook some. I have to admit to a silent chuckle myself, so in the first major decision of our relationship, I wisely said nothing. Right now was a different matter. I was pinched between his massive back and a wall, and one more roll and I'd be a splat on the sheets. I nudged him gently, but instead of moving forward he spun onto his back and his left arm caught me in the throat. "Dammit!" "Huh? Oh. Sorry babe." He edged away and turned to face me, leaning his head on

his arm and fixing me with that blue stare of his. He reached around with his other hand and stroked my cheek; just the edges of his fingertips, and that sent a shiver through me. "I guess I'm kind of a slob in my sleep. Sorry to roll on you like that." "Sorry I was such a bitch." "Hey, If someone twice my size rolled onto me I don't think I'd be in too good a mood first thing in the morning either. Guess I don't have much practice sleeping with someone." I wiggled my eyebrows. "Well, we'll have to get you some more practice." He smiled at that. "Yeah, I'd like that Chris. A lot. I'm glad you asked me to stay even if I did hurt your, umm, pride." "It wasn't my pride you hurt. Just my ass." He sniggered. "But you could make up for that right now with a little morning kiss." His eyes slowly flicked over me, and a broad smile played over his face. God, those eyes could melt the soul.... We leaned forward to one another, both closing our eyes as our lips brushed first, our arms coiled around each other's bodies, our mouths opened and pressed against each other.... our tongues slowly reached out and touched.... we locked lips.... "Ewwww." "Oh God." "Listerine?" "Please!" We charged for the bath. ***** A lot of people will tell you that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but you wouldn't know it at my house. Jamie was up in the shower and I had come down and put on some coffee for starters and then begun scrounging through the cabinets and the fridge for both of us. No bacon, no eggs, not even ham. My mother hadn't shopped for groceries Friday before they left for the Lake, and I had figured to do the restocking over the weekend but even if had gone to DeMoulas' on Friday night instead of Rte 3 there still wouldn't have been much in the way of a hearty traditional breakfast. My dad usually scoffed a quick cup of coffee and some toast before he zipped out the door, and my mother wasn't much different. I usually settled for cereal and juice and a single cup of heavily creamed coffee myself. I was rooting around desperately when Jamie eased silently into the room and slipped his arms around me from behind, licking my neck. "Mmmmmm," I said. "Yeah. Nothing like boy for breakfast." "You just might have to settle for that. I can't find much more than pop-tarts, cereal, and coffee." "Strawberry Pop Tarts?" "Uh-huh." "Great. What kind of cereal?" I turned a little red at that. "Well, there's always Wheaties...." Disappointed, he said, "No Count Chocula?" I moved the box of Wheaties out of the way and pulled out a half eaten box of the same. Then I grabbed the Froot Loops for myself. "Yum. You know the way to my heart. Directly off the stomach." "I got the idea it was lower." I peered at the box. "I didn't peg you for the sugar and dextrose type." "Yeah, and there's something else you never pegged me for, and we both got lucky when you found out about that." We dug into our less than healthy breakfast. I caught Jamie just sort of looking at me as he chewed so he spoke, "What time do the rug guys get here?" I squinted at the clock. "About an hour. They said about 8:30." Jamie scarfed the bowl clean and re-filled it. "Shouldn't take too long, there's just the rugs

in the living room and my dad's office. The stuff upstairs is all new. They have to be out by noon because I have to be to work by one." "Yeah, I gotta work today, too. Is it alright if I hang here for awhile?" "No problem. What about your parents? You never called 'em last night, they gonna say anything?" "Nah. They think I'm at the beach staying with my brother Paul. He's got a condo in Seabrook." "Where does he think you are?" He smiled at me. "I told him I had a hot date last night and I'd probably be shacked up." "Shacked up huh? I'm a shack-up? Nice to know where I stand!" He struck the phoniest apologetic pose I had ever seen, and it cracked me up. Then out of nowhere his voice took a sudden serious edge. "You're no shack up, Chris. It's not like I planned to run into you or anything. Hoped maybe, but not planned." That got my attention. "Hoped?" He turned red, and his upper teeth bit his lower lip then he looked down into his murky brown bowl and shoveled the last tablespoon of Count Chocula into his mouth. "Yeah, hoped. I've, um, kinda had a thing for you for awhile." I didn't know what to say, so I kept silent. For a moment. "You have a thing for me?" He scuffed his feet, squirmed in his chair, and I don't know how but managed to turn even redder. "Yeah. Since like freshman year," he said simply. It was my turn to shuffle and squirm, and I did exactly that. I told you, I'm nothing special to look at and I had no idea how to deal with what he'd just said. "I had no clue. I mean, we hardly even talked. The only contact we ever had was a couple words in class or in the hall." He glanced up from the bowl looking like a Lost Boy searching for his mother. Then he kind of hunched down. "I didn't know what to say, and I was scared to say much because I figured I might say too much. I knew I was gay back then and all, and I used to look at you and think... well never mind what I thought. Plus I thought you were straight, and I figured if I started trying to hang with you I'd just make it worse for myself. Or say something dumb. Like now." A small smile returned and I saw mischief in his eyes. "But if it means anything to you, we got to know each other real good at night after I shut off the lights." Suddenly his hand was on mine, not rough and not gentle, but firm. "I'm kind of assuming some things here Chris. I mean if you want to just look at last night as some fun, its ok with me. But... I mean... I know I asked you to hook up and that was kinda crude... even for me... I guess I want to ask you to try going out with me. Date and stuff... Fuck. I want you to be my boyfriend." He squeezed, and my fist was lost in that oversized hand of his. If he was acting, he was good. His eyes had that scared kid look, the one you see on a little guy sometimes, when he's said something he's not sure he should have. I sat there with my mouth hanging open, some milk running down one corner. I guess this was my romantic moment, and I swallowed hard and wiped away the wet stuff on my chin and the stuff in my eyes. I mouthed words without any sound coming out. Please don't let this be some cruel game, some lame joke. And God, if you're there, don't let this be just another dream. He kissed me on the cheek, real soft and shy. "Unless you say otherwise, I'll take that as a yes, ok?" ***** The rug guys came and went, and all the furniture was sitting on these little waterproof pads. The entertainment center stood empty, its contents scattered through the kitchen and the hall. It would stay that way until sometime Sunday, giving the rug a chance to dry better and me the time to pull out the pads. Jamie offered to come by Sunday to help if I wanted him to. We hadn't done or said much once the rug guys got there, just gone up to my room and flicked on

some music while they worked. Jamie slid an arm around me a few times and gave me these little kisses, but there was no heavy fooling around with three strangers in the house. According to a lot of the stories I read, we should have been in an orgy right now with the rug guys, but honestly all we did was get to know each other better. That was good. We knew each other's bodies when we barely knew more than each other's names. Funny. Guys are dogs I guess. We'll plug it in a hole first, and then maybe introduce ourselves after. This was all turned 'round from the way I thought it was supposed to be, but still better than what I planned. Friday night was supposed to be about sex, period. That's as far as I had thought it through, if you call what I did thinking. I hadn't a clue what was supposed to happen after. Right now was not only a big surprise but a nice one. I booted up the 'puter and we jumped into gay.com, hit the Youth Floor chats and got into Boy Teens 1 on the first click. Jamie recognized my name when I logged in and laughed. "We've talked. Oh, yeah have we talked! Man, you are THE cyber king too!" I could feel the heat rising. That was a corner of my life I hadn't planned to bring up. "Oh?" "Uh-huh. I'm LoadBoi_17. Remember Mike_17A's orgy in the teens' Germany Room?" That really brought out my color, and I kept my head down. LoadBoi and I had some... discussions. Private discussions. If you've ever been to a youth chat and done some Privates, you'll know what I mean. I did my best to shift the focus on today's big room discussion, which seemed to be what preoccupied most teen-age boys. Sex. Today's topic had true class: spit or swallow. Swallow seemed to have the edge. One of the guys was babbling aimlessly and being a true pain in the ass. "I hate that kid," I said. "Yeah. Carve can be a real dick. He's only 13, but he's a total wad." We didn't join the chat and I didn't answer any hails, we just watched. Anyone who saw Cruiser just naturally assumed he was in Private if he was being room-quiet. Eventually the rug guy called up the stairs. I signed the receipt and they were gone. It was 11:30. "I gotta be moving, Chris. What time do you take your dinner at Borders'?" I looked at him funny. "How do you know where I work?" He shrugged. "'Cuz I'm at Old Navy in The Loop. I've seen you going in there plenty." "Um, well I have to work that out with my boss." "Shoot for seven, that's when things slow down for us on Saturday anyway. Wendy's or BK, though. It's date night, and Loews' will have Not Your Average Joe's packed." Loews' was a twenty-theatre complex that anchored The Loop. Jamie swooped down and gave my cheek another kiss before heading out the door. I watched him slip out and stood watching as he loaded his big frame into a vintage Crown Vic. First time I ever saw what he drove, and it surprised me some, but when you thought about it he'd have trouble getting in and out of much else. Strange, I thought. He worked right NEXT to me. He knew what car I drove. Jesus, he even knew where I lived -- that had just clicked in. How did he know where I lived? I wondered what else he knew, and the red came back. LoadBoi_17 knew a lot of other things I liked too. ***** The store was busy when I got to work. It normally is on Saturday, but like I said before, the summer was fading fast and the Back To School stuff we (sadly) put out at the end of July was flying off the shelves. Dave was off today, but Karen was on, and from the moment I punched in she was on my tail to get things done. Don't get me wrong, I like Karen and when things are quiet she cuts us a lot of slack as long as we get the work out, but when the store was busy she expected us to hustle. Karen was in line for her own store or so we heard, and she deserved it. She knew stock, she knew merchandise, and she knew how to

schedule people. She read people almost as well as she could read a book, so it really wasn't that much of a shock when she dropped her little bomb on me about being gay. The first three hours of my shift flew by when we finally hit a lull. She was heading my way when we heard the main door whoosh! and in came Jamie filling out a pair of 501's like only he could, and a pale blue button down collar shirt. He had that grin again and wasted no time closing the distance between us. He grabbed me by both shoulders, much the way he had the night before when he showed up at my kitchen door, and squeezed. I winced, but he didn't hug like he had the night before. "I'm on a break. We clear for dinner at seven?" I looked hopefully at Karen. She smiled and glanced back and forth at the two of us. "Yeah, the runt can abandon me at seven, I've still got Andrea, Steve and Wynona. BUT---I expect a bribe. Combo #5 from Wendy's, super sized. He buys." "Kewl deal. I'm Jamie." "Karen. You work at Old Navy right? Hey Chris, take a break. It's quiet now." I debated going to the break room, but wasn't sure how freely we could talk. We hit the sidewalk, just talked a little, and then Jamie had to get back to work. I was headed back into the store, and Karen was standing there arms crossed and tapping her foot. Everyone else was busy, straightening sections WAY back from the front. I knew that look. Karen wanted dirt, she wanted it in no uncertain terms, and she was going to get it any way she could. "Where did you reel THAT in?" she demanded. "Reel what in? Jamie? We go to school together. We're just friends." Karen could look right through you when she chose, and she wasn't having any of it from me. "Chris, you've been here since late June, and every day I looked at you I saw `Desperation' written on your face and `Need' bulging in other places. Yesterday I thought you were ready to jump a sofa cushion, but today you come in all smiles, easy calm and walking more than a BIT funny. I know when something changes with you, and I saw the way Jamie looked at you, and suddenly you're all buddy-buddy and taking breaks and having dinner together. If he was just a friend from school I think he would have been in here before since he just works a couple of doors down. And the way he looked at you is NOT the way `just friends' look at each other. Those eyes of his locked on you before he cleared the door and he's got it bad. And you stood there looking like a deer in the headlights. Now, spill your guts. I want dirt and details. Spare me the anatomy lessons because those jeans didn't hide much and I don't need a blow by-- I mean, real intimate stuff. I know what guys do; I've seen a few movies. But I want the story, all of it, and I'll fire your tight lil ass out the door if I don't get the news." She wouldn't of course, but that's not what caught my attention. "You've seen movies?" "Yup. Straight guys go nuts watching lesbian stuff. Think we never check out what the boys can do?" That really made me turn red. Part of me wanted to know if she made copies, but I was too embarrassed to ask, so I spilled it, all of it, except for the sex stuff ("Then we did it" was about as much as I was going to say). She told me I was nuts when I brought up the rest area which I countered by adding I'd never be going that way again even if Jamie had done a fade the morning after. I was lucky once and I couldn't gamble on that kind of luck twice. Things could have gone very different if Jamie hadn't stepped in from nowhere. "I ever hear about you going to a place like that, I'll spank you for being a stupid brat." I wound down and told her the good part, what Jamie said about watching me for three years. She got this far away look on her face. "That's really something. That's beautiful." "That I have a boyfriend?" She smiled dreamily; spoke softly, "Not just that, hon, but that's great too. I

mean to have someone admit that they've looked at you for over three years, sitting just close enough, but not too close, feeling for you but afraid to say anything, and then getting the chance to tell you what they mean, and how they feel... its a bad 30's movie Chris, but it's still a two hankie piece and I love that stuff. I'd love for that to be me." I watched her face soften as it all sank in and built up some courage about something else. "Uh, Karen?" "Yeah hon?" "Those movies you mentioned before. I don't suppose you made copies of them, did you?" Her mouth became a thin red line, and her eyes narrow black slits. I wanted to slink into a crack. "You're all alike. From the second those two things drop and your voices crack till ten minutes AFTER they put you in the ground, you're all alike. Whether you want girls, guys, or sheep it doesn't matter. You all think with the little head." ***** Seven came, and Jamie was on the sidewalk waiting. We made our way across the parking lot with me hustling to keep up. I would have to eventually remind Jamie his legs were like seven inches longer than mine, but what the hell I was a runner anyway. We both gave inside orders, but I remembered Karen's and had them bag it. She could microwave it in the break room. There was a single table open and we snagged it. Jamie looked silly squeezed into the tiny seat and our knees were rammed against each other, which seemed to suit us both just fine. Yeah, I was nervous at the contact at first but there wasn't much choice with the pre/post movie mobs that would be flowing through here until closing. We didn't really talk about much of anything, just Stuff. It was comfortable; it was easy. He hunched down to look me in the eyes the entire time, and he seemed to watch every move I made. Part of me was embarrassed; another part of me ate it up. We both had an hour, but it took us maybe fifteen minutes to eat, and it was clear looking at the mob lined up that the tables were in demand. We bussed ourselves, and two girls jumped at the table when we got up. One gave Jamie the big eye. I heard the other say she liked the little one. Eat your heart out, I thought, you guys got ZERO chance no matter what you do. Jamie and I walked slowly across the lot, me toting the Number 5 (super sized) and Jamie with his hands stuffed into his pockets. It was a slower return than our walk over, and we leaned against his Crown Vic just talking. He was hemming and hawing again. "Did I mention my parents think I'm gonna be at my brother's again tonight?" "I hadn't heard that. What does your brother say about it?" "Um, well, I have a key to his place, but he wouldn't be surprised if I didn't show up. Assuming I didn't have anything better to do. And he covers for me, of course." He waited. "He always covers." He was waiting for me to fill in the blanks, but I just leaned and stared at the traffic on 113, letting him hang in silence. I owed him. Sadly, he said, "Well, I suppose I should get back to work." And he began moving off. I let him get maybe ten feet away before I called after him. "Hey, LoadBoi. Let's do a meet after ten in the parking lot." ***** I looked at the clock, saw it was after one, then reached down and began pealing the thin latex off. Jamie was stretched out and looking comfortable with his eyes closed. I sat there with it dangling at arms length between my fingers. One of my favorite net authors always had his characters tie a knot in it, and I thought that one over. It was slimy, I was POSITIVE there was more on it than just lube, and I was sure the stuff would ooze out all over if I tried, so I just walked it to the plastic bag hanging on my door knob and dropped it in. Handling things, getting off and

having it all over my hands and belly was one thing, but for some reason having it spill out while I tried knotting it up struck me as kind of gross. Good thing Monday was trash day. I had to remember to toss that shopping bag tomorrow, before my parents got home. I know my mother has never searched my trash. I KNOW this. But I would still make sure. I slid back onto the bed, and this big arm dragged me down onto this solid chest. "That was great babe. You lasted a lot longer this time." He kissed my chin. "Sorry about the first couple times. I know it was kind of quick, and I could tell you were disappointed." He shook his head and smiled, looking me in the eyes. "It's all new for you baby, I know. I didn't last long my first few times either. Besides, the sex is just a nice extra. The really good stuff is like right now, using you for my blankie," and he kissed the top of my head. In the back of my mind I wondered why he couldn't have said that last night, but decided I didn't care. My air conditioner droned on in the hot August night, and Jamie just held me as he drifted off to sleep, still using me for his blanket. I did reach down and pull one up over both of us, and drifted off quietly, listening to the beating of his heart. ***** Light. Lots of light. Too much light. The shades were open for some reason, and it hurt. "Wakey wakey!" Flomp! On the bed. I focused. Jamie was sitting there cross-legged, both hands behind his back. "Kiss?" "You forgot yesterday?" "Nuh-uh." He presented me with a bottle of Scope in one hand, and a bowl in the other. "Tastes better than the other stuff." I took a mouthful, swished it around, and spat into the bowl. Then he gave me a morning kiss. Nice way to start the day. We were learning. I tugged on a pair of shorts and slid into flip-flops. It was already too hot when we opened the hall door, so the tee shirt in my hand got tossed back on the bed. Jamie wasn't wearing much more. No, less really. His shorts were really boxers. He had a full bag of clothes in his car, but changing INTO clothes was the last thing on our minds when he followed me home. I'd fish them out later. He looked great in the 501 jeans he'd been wearing the day before but it was just too hot. No, too humid. Summer in the northern climes. Go figure. 85-F at nine in the morning. Jamie went straight for the cereal. No Count Chocula. He grabbed the Froot Loops and handed me the Wheaties. "Hey! Some boyfriend!" He shrugged and emptied the last Loop into his bowl. "I'm the guest." Wheaties. The cardboard of champions. Could have been worse. My sister's old box of Shredded Wheat was still there. "I get the last strawberry pop tart then. You get blueberry." "Kewlness. Deal." Jamie didn't eat, he inhaled. He did the last two blueberry tarts after and he was eyeing the empty box. I slipped him my remaining strawberry tart half but wrapped a protective arm around my cereal bowl and turned slightly to the left, keeping a wary eye on him. He eyed the bowl. I squinted my eyes and edged towards the block of knives at the end of the table. He sighed. "Set up the a/v center next?" "You can do more than eat?" "I thought I proved that the last two nights." It took awhile, but we got everything working. My parents would be happy. Well, my mom would be. What took us an hour or so would take my dad most of the night. AT&T cable box, two Toshiba VCR's, Pioneer CD, Phillips mp3 player, Sony tape deck, Panasonic multi disc DVD, and a 36" JVC pumped through a Yamaha receiver. Dad liked his toys. He never used anything but the cable box and the TV but he liked his toys. Jamie loved it. He plugged in a DVD of "Independence Day" and

advanced it, cranking up the volume when the White House blew. The speakers came close, too. Four JBLs and a bass box vibrated beautifully. "I love this!" "I noticed. Hey I never asked. Are you working today?" "Nope. Karen said you were off so I traded some hours with Kenny Coco. He likes the Sunday overtime rate." "So... what did you have in mind?" He turned the volume down and patted the seat next to him. I slid in. "First, we are going to DeMoulas in Plaistow and you can restock for your parents. And I want TWO boxes of Chocula for next time. Then, we have a nice lunch, not Wendy's. Then I got a big favor to ask." "Name it." He made a dumb face, nose wrinkled and eyes squinty. "Have Sunday dinner at my parents?" That was interesting. "You guys do a Sunday Dinner?" "Yup. Even my brother comes in for it. We do it once a month, we all get together because most of the time everyone's scattered doing something else. It means a lot to my mom and dad." Meet the parents. That should be interesting. "It won't be till seven, we always do it late, so we can still have a nice lunch. Would you do that? For me?" I will admit to being scared, everything had gone so fast. One day I'm a loner, desperate for contact and... I almost said love, but that wasn't true. All I wanted was sex on Friday. It's all I wanted all summer in truth. It looked like I had found a lot more since then, but it was still early for the 'L' word. Now Jamie was springing his family on me. It was a big move for me, a frightening one. But he gave me those big eyes of his and that lost face. He had my hand buried in both his great paws. `Sit boy, sit!' ran through the back of my mind. `Roll over! Beg!' What a bitch I was. "No problem." That shoulder squeeze that was gonna give me bruises one day, followed by the life-threatening hug. "Thanks babe. You'll love 'em. One word of warning though --- my little sister has a crush on you. She was a freshman last year and always said you were cute. She's right, too." ***** Without a word about it, we jumped into Jamie's car ("Meet Miss Vicky") and headed for the grocery store. The Water Street DeMoulas was closer, but it was poorly stocked compared to the big store in Plaistow. This one had a great location though, looking over the Merrimack River and Haverhill's most unique attraction: Friends' Landing, the largest gay bar north of metro Boston. At night the store lot was the over flow lot for the club. It was always packed on weekends. I had driven by often enough to know that. But it was better than three years before I would have the chance to see what it looked like from the inside. My birthday was coming up in a week, I'd be turning eighteen, and I read that some clubs had "Eighteen Plus" nights but I had no idea if the Landing had one of those. I'd have to look into it. "When do you turn eighteen, Jamie?" "November 15th." I'd keep it in mind; November wasn't that far off. Then I felt Jamie's hand on my thigh, and he was rubbing it. I picked it up and put it aside. "Not now," I said. He shrugged and put his hand back on the wheel. We got lucky because it was still before 11, and even though the New Hampshire stores opened at 10, most of their customers were from Massachusetts and they had it tattooed in their minds that nothing opened before noon. We hit the market, and Jamie tore through the aisles, calling off things we might need. I just said yes or no. He noticed bargains and better buys and I would check stuff on the list my mother left. He improvised some and I noticed extra bags of chips and such. No meats, we got those at the wholesale club, along with the frozen foods. Nothing would have the

chance to spoil in the car, so when groceries were done we decided to go for lunch. "Dammit. I forgot the milk. And it'll spoil if we stop." "Didn't buy it. We can stop at Store 24 or something on the way back. It's the same price anyhow." Problem solved, we pulled into the lot of Pub Benny's on 125. Both Holy Angels and the Assemblies of God had just ended services so there was a wait and the lobby was crowded, but Jamie and I just calmed it out and I enjoyed the crowded circumstances that forced us to stand real close. He was directly behind me, and I had to almost lean back into him, so I squirmed and I smiled knowing very well that I had his full attention. The difference in our heights had it plastered to the small of my back. That's when the hostess came and led us to our table. I know I saw some open jaws and heard a few giggles as we walked through the crowded room. When we got to a booth, I turned and saw why. I swear 501 jeans exaggerate everything. And if things happen to be .... large... and at attention.... and in boxers rather than briefs... They certainly don't leave much to the imagination, anyway. Jamie was red faced and slid into the chair as quick as he could. Our waiter showed, and he was very attentive to Jamie. "I know you rubbed back into me on purpose," he said. "Honest to God, it was the kids in front of me. They kept edging me back." "That's two since yesterday. I owe you now." "Yesterday?" "Yeah. Letting me hang like that in the parking lot, cyber king. LoadBoi owes CruisyStud big time now." Our waiter was back and he heard those names, and looked back and forth at us with a faint smile playing out on the edge of his lips. He was close to our age, and almost as big as Jamie, just a little shorter and a bit lighter. Not bad I thought. Blond hair, but hazel eyes. Not the washed out kind like mine. He was a little familiar looking, like maybe someone else who had gone to Haverhill High. His nametag just said, "Jimmy", which was no help at all. He took our order, smiled at us both and went off, returning with my ginger ale and Jamie's club soda with lime twist. He hated sodas; said he didn't need the sugar. I was tempted to mention Count Chocula, but decided to save it. Jamie had fish and a salad, making up some for the empty calorie feast he had that morning. I just settled for a cheddar burger and twisty, seasoned fries. We kept it light, just talking about work and crosschecking our schedules for the week. There wouldn't be any more nights together for awhile since my parents were coming back, but they traveled a lot for long weekends and we would have times like the last two nights soon. Meanwhile, our schedules matched pretty good, and keeping our voices low we both understood that there were three mornings we could get together for a little activity. Evenings were ok for us just to hang out and we could do plenty of things together, but in the mornings my house would be empty. My dad was gone by seven-thirty and mom was out by eight. I giggled. "Hell, I could even risk sneaking you in for the night. They hit the sheets by 11 at the latest, and I'm just getting home about then." "Your damn box spring makes too much noise." "It's not the box spring it's what you do to it." "All set guys?" It was Jimmy. "Anything for desert?" We just asked for the check, which he placed face down, looked at us both and winked. Then he was gone. "My treat. I asked you, remember?" He picked the slip up and made a face, then passed it to me. We were being charged for two small cokes, a tuna sandwich and a small salad. There was a note with the check too, and Jamie passed that to me with a huge smile. 'Stroker_Jimmy has had some great sessions with Load and Cruisy at Gay.Com. Always sit at one of my tables!' We chuckled all the way back to the car. It was a fairly quiet drive back to my house. Haverhill is a city, but a small

one, and not much goes on there even if it is considered part of the Greater Boston Metro area; all that really meant was the distance was commutable. On a sultry August afternoon, most people went away if they could, but the ocean side had no interest for me, I'd seen enough of it that summer. The Salem Mall was a good alternative since it was air conditioned, but I'd also had enough of walking around trying to look cute and available there, or playing games at the Hit Zone. I told Jamie about them, including the story of the Salisbury cop. That interested him some. I never did see the guy after that so there wasn't much to tell. He in turn told me how since he had broken up with Jeremy (the U-Mass student) the previous spring, and sometimes went into Boston to hang out in the South End (please, NOT South Boston; that's a different world) which self-consciously tried to be a mini-Castro or Christopher Street without quite pulling it off. He wasn't big on details, so I figured there was something in there that I could tease out of him later, and on the subject of Jeremy he wouldn't answer any questions at all so I left that alone. We stopped at a mini-mart a few blocks from my house and grabbed a couple of half-gallons of 2% milk. It didn't take long to unload and pack the stuff away. The temperature was in the 90s at least, and the humidity had gotten a lot worse as the day got older so Jamie was stripped down to his boxers again once we were done running to his car; he'd forgotten to bring any shorts when he'd thrown a bag together the day before. No point in offering him a pair of mine. I didn't care about the labels but the boxers were CK's, nice little pink stripes and they had a button on the fly which really didn't help much to hide anything with Jamie. I was already in shorts, so I just shucked my shirt and Nikes and slipped into the flip-flops I liked around the house. We aimed a big fan at the couch (dad would spring for air conditioners in the bed rooms and his office, but the cost of a central system freaked him out) and settled in to watch a DVD. "Independence Day" again, Jamie said he loved that movie, but this time straight through. Full sound effects, of course. After that it was "Godzilla" which was ok with me since Matthew Broderick always turned me on. True, I liked him more in his old movies when he was still playing screen teens, but I still thought he was cute even if he must be in his thirties now. I stretched out in the corner of the couch with my legs straight-out, and Jamie eventually wound up sprawled over the couch with his head in my lap. He looked funny, since his feet were stuck out over the armrest but he said he was comfortable the way he was. I stroked his hair and his shoulders, and he nuzzled his head in my lap, which had a serious effect, and he snickered about his ear not being virgin anymore. I gave him a swat and he was good for a while. About 4 he said he had to be going soon. Since his mother knew there was going to be some "Company", extra things would have to be done around the house. She was fussy. "But you've still got more than two and a half hours," I was complaining. "Yeah... but its awful hot in here... maybe I could stay like another hour... and there's a/c upstairs and all. I know you left it running." He was eyeing the stairs, then back to me with wide, innocent eyes, upper teeth biting down on his lower lip. "No DVD player, though." "I didn't have television in mind." ***** Jamie lived down by the river, in one of those old houses built at the beginning of the century. Well, the last century. I was still having some trouble with that, even though the purists insisted 2000 WAS still the 20th century. It was one of those old Dutch colonials with a hipped roof. It had been added to over the years, a full first floor addition and extra dormers on the sides and rear. It was well above the flood lines of the Merrimack, unlike many of the other houses in the same area. It sat well above the street, with this long concrete

stairway leading to an old fashioned, roofed front porch. By the looks of things, it still had the original oak door in front with stained glass. Probably beveled too, I thought. I noticed things like that, liked the looks of older houses. My own was your standard post WWII salt box colonial, bigger than a lot of them you saw, but still rather faceless compared to what you saw in other parts of Haverhill and the older towns and cities in that part of Massachusetts. Taking Jamie's advice I turned up the street, turned into the block that was actually the rear of the houses facing the river and parked on the quiet street. No one on that stretch of Water Street used their front doors or even bothered to shovel the steps during the winter. The postal people were more than happy to deliver the four houses on that block from the rear. I pulled up, my muffler making the noises that aging Toyotas will every few years and I saw the back door open and Jamie standing on the screened porch. He was dressed in a blue Lauren polo and a nice looking pair of dressy khaki shorts. He had sandals on his feet and I wondered where the hell he managed to buy them that size. Did Trojan have a division making Magnum Sandals? I liked the sound of that. He came to the car as I stepped out and got my shoulders in that vice grip again. It hurt and it was starting to get to me but he relaxed the grip quickly and put an arm around my shoulders and guided me into the house. Three people greeted me. Parents and a little sister, little being a relative term. Very filled out for a girl of fifteen. I had seen her, just didn't know who she was, and always thought she was older because of the way she had developed. "I'm Phil," said his father. "Jeanette," said his mother. "Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. --" "No," he said smiling, "it's just Phil and Jeanette, Chris. You kids are grown and its time we started treating you like it." He turned to his daughter and son. "Except you two. We're still Mom and Dad." "I'm Lauren," said the girl and gave me an embarrassing, obvious once over. "Damn," I heard her mutter under her breath. Her mother eyed her some at that. "With me, we have to finish up in the kitchen." I knew that voice. Lauren was about to get a little lecture from Jeanette. Lauren had the same eyes as Jamie, and they told me she knew it was coming too. I looked at both parents. I could see a lot of Jeanette in Lauren, but nothing at all of Jamie in either parent. Phil just smiled at the two of them. He seemed a little uncomfortable I thought, like he wasn't quite sure what to say despite what I took to be a normally easy way with people. I liked the guy in spite of that feeling. He wasn't put off by me, just seemed confused. I couldn't read the mother yet. To Jamie, "Your brother called and said he was going to be a little late, so we're holding dinner awhile. Traffic from the coast is always a bitch on Sundays. Why don't you show Chris around?" "Yeah, I'll show you my room. C'mon, C." I trotted up the stairs behind Jamie, casually looking over the nicely turned banisters and rails. The stairs turned twice. All the woodwork was in good shape, the only mar being the wall on the second landing, which soared up into the slanted roof under the eaves. It seemed to sag, bow out. "That's from when me and Paul used to kinda bounce when we came down the stairs in the morning. Pissed them both off something fierce, so we made a point of doing it. We thought it was revenge for making us go to school." "Didn't work, huh?" "Nah. They got back at us by making us walk there. We didn't bounce much from December to March." We got to the top of the stairs into a small hall, then walked a narrow passage to the back--actually, the front-- of the house. It was a good-sized room, bigger than mine, dominated by a queen size bed, which Jamie of course required.

The rest of the room was nice, painted a pale blue with a gray carpet. His computer sat in a hutch on the left, crowded with equipment and disc cases. A chest of drawers and a dresser were rammed together on the other side of the room. I expect one or the other had stood where the computer hutch was now. I saw a Hillies' pennant, some pictures of Jamie in his uniform, all kinds of junk and what was probably half his wardrobe kicked under his bed. Wow, he'd even cleaned for me! There were pictures on his dresser, one of this dark haired guy with blue eyes and wearing glasses. Was that you, Jeremy? I also noticed three pictures of me. One was from the yearbook, printed on computer photo stock. He must have scanned it, and that gave me a nice feeling. The other two I had never seen before. "I snapped those with my digicam," he said sheepishly. One had me with this big smile on my face, and I knew it was from school, looked like I had been talking to someone in the hallway. The other brought my eyebrows up some. It was maybe a year old judging from my hairstyle. It was set in the library at Bradford College, where I went sometimes when I had to do some research for a school project. Bradford was closed now, having gone into bankruptcy the year before. But one of our neighbors had worked there as a librarian, and she fixed it with the staff for me to go there if I was researching. Its resources were better than anything Haverhill had to offer in the city library. I just couldn't check books out although Mrs. LaPointe would take care of anything I might want on her own card if I asked. "I just saw you there a few times, and snapped it from the stacks. Camera doesn't need much light. I brought the light up with some photo effects software I have and did some enhancements." He must have seen the look on my face, looked worried for a second, and smiled. "Hey, I told ya, I've had a crush on you for awhile." "What the hell were you doing at Bradford College?" "My Dad works there. He used to be in the English Department before they shut down. He asked me to snap some pics after they announced the school was going to close, and I saw you there and.... that's it. It was a good picture of you, babe. So I printed it up." I walked up to him and slipped my arms around his waist. He hung his arms over my shoulders, looked me in the eye, then leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Lauren kicked the door open. "Dinner's almost done. Mom says for you and your boyfriend to make it a quick one and get down there," then she was gone. I jumped back from Jamie. "What the FUCK! Why didn't you lock the door?" His face wrinkled, and he sort of spoke with his face twisted up to the left. "Um, locks don't really work in this house. Only reason the door stays shut is because the wood's swelled. In the winter I have to put a rock in front to keep it closed." "OK, now the rest of it." "The rest?" "Yeah, as in Lauren calling me your boyfriend?" "Well, you are." "And she knows this how? You told your sister I'm your boyfriend?" "She's just guessing, plus she's jealous. I told you she had a thing for you. Chris, she knows I'm gay. The whole family does, I came out two years ago. And this being family night and all, they assume that we're together, because the idea is no outsiders unless they're someone special for us right now. Not a fiancé or anything, but a special, well, for me a boyfriend." It rattled me. I was totally taken off guard by this. Yeah, I knew someday that I would be taking the Out step, but I was the one who wanted to choose the time, not someone else. "Baby, I am so sorry," he said taking my hand. "I wanted them to meet you, and I wanted you to be relaxed so I figured I'd just tell you after when you got to know them. They are not going to grill you or talk about you to anyone else.

This is just my family, C. They'll let you be part of it if you want, but they are not gonna run around blabbing your private business. They don't even discuss me outside the home because they figure I'm the only one who should have the say in telling anyone else who I am. They'll look at you the same way - it's our business. Tonight is just about meeting. They know you're important to me is all. No one is gonna ask what we do in private, or even if we have. Yeah, part of it is they don't WANT to know, any more than I want to hear about what they do in private. And I'm gonna have a few words with that little bitch later. A closed door around here means off limits unless you knock." He looked deep into my eyes, and held my hands in his gently. I wasn't crazy about any of this, but I'd go along. I was still angry that he hadn't given me any warning. His mother called up the stairwell, and it echoed beautifully. I jumped. "Paul and I used to call that the Voice of God the way this house echoes. We better get down." I tried to relax, to recompose myself. When I saw Phil and Jeanette in the dining room, I understood better why they seemed a little nervous. Still, they had had the advantage on me. I wanted to make the best of things so I did some extra sucking up and gave Jeanette a hand bringing in some dishes. She thanked me. Early training made me forget that it was Jeanette. "No problem, Mrs. Levesque." She stepped back and gave me an odd look. "Mrs. Levesque? Didn't that bonehead say something? No, he never does. I haven't been Mrs. Levesque for over fourteen years, right after Lauren was born. Scotty and I are divorced." "Hey Paul! Meet Chris." "I'm Mrs. Cayman. Phil is really Jamie's step dad." I turned and looked into the face of Officer Paul Cayman, of the Salisbury Police Department. "Paul is Phil's son from his first marriage."

Chapter 3 "The Conversation" I'm not sure which was more insulting, the fact that Jamie planted his hand on my forehead while I pin wheeled at him, or that he didn't bother to lean forward to give the impression he had to brace himself to hold me back. I had already called him everything I could think of. I was creative with the normal words. Inventive with my suggestions. Selective in my guttural sounds that really conveyed meaning when I ran out of words to express my inner feelings, once I ran out of the regular stuff. He had the good sense not to laugh, but he did struggle with a smile and that pissed me off too. When Paul Cayman came into the room, I was standing by the oval dining table helping Jeanette set the last dishes in place. I froze and he stepped back. We stared. Then he just put his hand out, stuttered how I must be Jamie's new friend, and we took our seats. I was next to Lauren, who kept giving Jamie and me bad looks. Phil and Jeanette sat at the head and foot of the table. Jamie and Paul were side by side. Paul avoided looking at me; every time he did he turned redder and shook a little. He mostly managed to fight back the smile, but every now and then I heard this snort and I'd look and he'd duck me. Lauren and Jeanette watched us closely, Jamie was curious, but Phil was oblivious to it. We made small talk, they talked family stuff I knew nothing about. Jamie would try to get me into the conversation, but I was lost. Jamie eventually began watching

Paul, and the way they looked at one another convinced me they had a silent communication. Jamie had a HINT that something was wrong, and then I think it finally began to shape up in his head. Sharper than a basketball, my Jamie. After that he wasn't much better than his brother and I could hear the two of them snorting apparently fighting back a case of the giggles. My ears burned and not even the cool air filling the room from the air conditioner kept me from sweating or shaking with anger. Nervousness, fear and anger, all at once. Every now and again Paul would look at me, and I could hear this little strangled sound in the back of his throat then he'd have to look away. Jamie fell in with his step, and I began to understand that being an asshole wasn't necessarily a genetic trait; from what I could see it was learned behavior, and these two had taught each other well. Jeanette Cayman fixed both her evil sons with this deadeye look and suddenly they were five and twelve again, fearing the Wrath of Ma. Her eyes were blue, but a different blue than Jamie's, more gray in them. Right then they had a cold, flinty look and they were fixed on Half and Nit, the Wit brothers. That brought them back to reality and somehow we got through dinner without the blood hitting the floor. I don't remember what we ate, I just remember not eating much. Remembering all that was what made me want to connect a fist with Jamie. "I didn't know! I swear!" "I told you about it just this morning, you miserable lying sack of-- " "Chris, you never said what his name was!" "Oh, like you didn't know where your brother was pulling duty?" "Why the hell should I know that? He's a cop, in Salisbury. He could be anywhere. I know he's on the day shift, and aside from that not much else. If something happened he thought was interesting, he might bring it up but that's about it. He just didn't mention that he saw some skinny kid in a Speedo flashing his goods up and down the Rez acting like a man-trap! Besides, everyone knows all the real action is under the pier at the Frolics." "Oh, and so now I'm a man-trap? I'm just a skinny kid flashing my goods?" "Aw babe gimme a break! Even YOU said you were there looking to slut out!" "I did give you a break! I didn't club you with a bat. First you invite me to dinner, a SPECIAL dinner reserved for family and people who are 'almost family', and then don't bother to tell me that you're out to 'em so there's only one thing they can figure from me being there. You DON'T tell me that your family's name is really Cayman, NOT Levesque, or that your brother -- no, your STEP brother -- is a Salisbury cop, even after I told you I had a little run in with a cop there a month ago. Hello? Is anyone home? Has dawn broken on Marble Head? Or does the football jock need it spelled phonetically? Would pictures help?" His eyes narrowed. "That's insulting. I'm not stupid." "No, you're not, which is one of the reasons I'm so pissed off right now. You are NOT stupid. Just dense." He let his hand drop, and I let him have a good crack across the shoulder, which hurt me a damn sight more than it hurt him. Now my hand hurt as much as what was left of my pride. I think he was acting, but he rubbed his upper arm and made like it ached. He could see that my hand hurt worse, but made the correct assumption that I didn't want to hear that right then. "OK, Chris. Ok. Look, I already told you why I didn't bring up me being out, and if it weren't for Lauren you'd have just met my folks and that would have been it. Later I would have told you the rest, once you saw what they were like and you felt comfortable around them. Like my mom told you, she divorced my dad when I was like three. Phil Cayman is the only father I've ever really known and that's who he is to me -- Dad. Scotty Levesque's a stranger. I haven't seen him in maybe five years, and before that I might have seen him once or twice a year and that's it. Scotty's a fuckin' drunk and I don't know OR care where he is. Lauren knows even less about him. Paul is my brother in everything but blood.

He's seven years older than me, and I can't remember a time when he WASN'T my brother, or treated me like I was anything BUT his brother. I've always trusted him with everything, and he's always trusted me. They're NOT the Caymans, they're my family." "Paul's also the first person I came out to, back when I was a real mess -- and that's not long ago. Plus he's the one who helped me get through it all with mom and dad. That's Paul, period. And don't worry about him talking about your little meeting this summer -- he knows you're important to me just because you're here as my guest, and yeah, that means he's putting one and one together and coming up with us as a pair, so he's not going to do or say anything to embarrass you." I stood there, looking at him. I wish I could say he had the face of an innocent, an absolute and impossible not to believe quality of purity. He didn't. He looked like a pissed off brute of a teenage boy rubbing his shoulder and trying not to look mad, not to be mad. Not much different than me, at least as far as the mad went. Difference is I wasn't a hulk and I didn't care if he knew I was mad. "OK, there's still one thing, Jamie. When I told you that story this afternoon, why didn't you tell me your brother was a cop? Why didn't you at least ask me for the cop's name? Just in case?" The anger seemed to ease out of him. I knew I had crossed a line when I slammed him, I knew it instantly, but I still didn't care. Jamie could have broken me in half without much effort. Part of me wanted to punch him in the face, but something else told me at the moment I began to haul back that if I did we would be finished, and angry as I was I didn't want that either. In two days Jamie had come from being this polite stranger to pretty much the center of my life. The 'l' word flashed though my mind, but I couldn't, wouldn't say that yet. Before I said that, I had to know that I meant it, deep down, all the way down; once I said that word I could never take it back, and if things went wrong I don't think we could even look at each other again. I wanted Jamie as my boyfriend, yeah, but I also wanted him to be something else too. I wanted him to be a lover. Keep your `partner' word, it's as cold and clinical as any of the other new-speak the PC language people come up with to neuter feelings and give things a more respectable and acceptable sound. Yeah, the word was abused to the point where it meant almost nothing. But to me it was important, something beautiful and magical. I had to ease up on him now, I knew that or I'd lose him. Jamie was so smart in some things, so utterly thick in others. I could understand what he said about Phil and Paul being his family, not just the Caymans. It was something natural and clear to him to think that way, not something he felt needed explanation to a third party because it just WAS. Probably every friend he had knew about it, and it just wouldn't occur to him that it needed to be explained. "I got no explanation for that. I don't know why I didn't tell you. Maybe I was afraid it WAS him, and you wouldn't come tonight if you knew about Paul." "Then you're ashamed of me?" He just looked at me, mouth opened slightly. "Why on earth would I ever be ashamed of you? If I were, you wouldn't be here." There was a light knock on the door, and the voice of Paul Cayman. "Jamie? Can I talk to you and Chris?" Jamie looked at me and spoke softly. "Can he?" I began to wind down. I wasn't sorry for what I had said or done, but I couldn't stay mad any more and I just nodded. Jamie opened the door, Paul stepped in and then he closed it. As a precaution, he eased a smooth rock half the size of a football in front of the door. No more surprises from Lauren. Paul Cayman understood the way of old houses, and little sisters too. Paul Cayman was an opposite to Jamie, all dark to his brother's light, but a handsome man in a different way. Nowhere near Jamie's bulk, a sleeker but solid

build. Shorter by two inches maybe, and deep brown eyes to match the hair. I hadn't seen those eyes behind the shades at the beach that one time, but they gave you a reassuring feeling. Soft eyes, gentle eyes... not the eyes of a cop. No resemblance at all on the physical level. Still, he managed to adopt the same sheepish expression. I guess the two of them were close enough even if they didn't share the same blood. "I heard some of what you two were saying," he said softly. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but Little Miss Bitch was. What's wrong with Lauren tonight anyway?" Jamie shrugged. "She's had this thing for Chris since last year, and she's pissed off 'cuz she knows she hasn't got a chance now." He twisted his mouth into that same, lop-sided grin that Jamie used so much. "Woman scorned. I guess Lauren is all grown up. Doesn't look like she mellowed much." He shook his head. "Alright, here we go. Based on what I heard standing out there, Chris is right, Jamie. You SHOULD have told him your brother was a Salisbury cop after he told you about the run-in we had. Maybe he didn't bring up my name, but I'm pretty sure he read my nametag that day, and you could have asked him. Or asked for a description. That's just common sense AND decency if he is what I think he is to you." He looked at us both when he said that, eyes from face to face. "Uh-huh. I see that you are. And I think that's great. You guys shouldn't have to be alone just because you're gay, but there's not much I can do about that except try to help a little along the way. Chris, I tried helping you that day whether you know it or not." That was news. "You scared the shit out of me. I got the hell out of there." "Which is exactly what I wanted you to do. You were being targeted for a sting." He let that sink in, and looked steady at me. He wasn't judging, I could see that in his face and hear it in his voice. "Salisbury is a resort town with a bad honky-tonk image. Drugs, hookers, and hustlers used to be all over the place. The town has been fighting that image for years and they're just starting to change their reputation, bringing back a lot of the family trade they need, desperately need, to survive. Plus there's a group around there who have been trying to bring in casino gambling for about ten years now, they even have a state senator leading the push. There's a lot of money at stake if they get it through, but only if the town cleans up its image to bring in the investors. They've done some pretty extreme things, and they're always running these little secret stings to scare away the trash. No Chris, I'm not calling you trash so don't think that. There are a lot of guys out there on my force who have a more personal agenda, and they use these stings for their private kicks. They love grabbing some guy and arresting him just to make his life hell. Fag baiting with the law. They've been watching you for awhile, and I knew what was coming so I had to do something about it." "Was I that obvious?" He widened his eyes. "Let me see. Speedo, half hard all the time, pretty much pushing it all out every time someone walked by you thought might be interesting. Only guys though. Yeah. That can be kind of obvious to some people, the ones who get paid to watch anyway. You wanted to get laid, and I could see the chicks hitting on you same as the other guys did, and you weren't having anything to do with them. On the other hand, let a good-looking guy come by and you did a `Wile E Coyote' double take out of a Road Runner cartoon. So that left only one thing to think. The boys were pretty sure what was going to turn you on, and you were maybe ten minutes from a little trap with a messy arrest and being paraded through the jail. Since it was on the Rez, well that's commonwealth property, so that means the state cops get brought in. Once they're in there's no chance of smoothing things over. That means the `Sex Offenders Registry' even if you are a minor." He was just so damn sure about everything and I was defensive. "What makes you

so think I would have tumbled?" "Do you remember seeing this built guy, early twenties, short black hair and red trunks?" "Yeah," was my one word response. He was hot. "If he came up and got real suggestive and close, you think you might have let your crotch do your thinking?" I swallowed. This really was embarrassing. "Don't answer. I know something about horny teenagers," he said, and gave Jamie a side look. "Especially horny gay teenagers who are cut off from the normal outlets to meet people." Then to me, "Normal, as in meeting other people in a conventional way. There's nothing for you guys out here. In the big cities they have centers and organizations to help. Out here... well, just because the state says the schools have to allow organizing outreach programs doesn't mean they have to do the organizing. Schools will just sit back and wait for someone else to do it, then let the school board fight it out. There was a lot of publicity a few years ago with that kid from the Whittier School District coming out at his school, even the national press carried the story. I know the gay lobby made him the poster child for coming out. That was really great-- but he was the captain of his football squad, real popular, and big enough not to be messed with. Bam-Bam over there could get away with it, but what about the kid who's 5'6" and maybe 120 lbs. who's in the chess club? He'd get eaten alive. The rest of you kids are out in the cold, nowhere to go and nowhere to meet. I don't have a problem with a gay guy; it's no big deal to me. Like I told lard-brain over there awhile back, my best friend since grade school came out to me when we were in our mid-teens. I had him talk to this one when he needed it and I can have him talk to you if you want. You can think about that one, I don't need an answer right away. "Anyway, I knew you were going to get set up that day, I heard them talking about it in the barracks. You been the 'Little Speedo Fag' since the `Fourth' to them. The guy in red trunks was gonna get you all hot by talking, and then you were going to get an invite back to his car. Sooner or later he was going to get you to reach out and touch. Lewd and lascivious behavior, they call it. Bang. Busted. He's a summer appointee, wants to make the force permanent, and he kind of likes being used for bait, I think. Take my word, the locals weren't going to make your life easy once it got to court, which I can guarantee it would. Your name wouldn't have made the paper because you're still a minor, but it does mean calling your family. Also, I knew you had to be at least seventeen since you drove, so they COULD petition the court to try you as an adult and then all hell would break loose. That would depend on the judge, and they're not exactly progressive in Newbury District Court. Small fine yeah, but the Sex Offender Registry isn't much fun. Conviction even for a misdemeanor like that means registering everywhere you live as a convicted sex offender, which is an open public registry. That's why I scared you off, and I wanted to make sure you cooled it. I meant to scare hell out of you, hoping you might think things out. Didn't see much of you after that. That was a good thing. "What you were doing wasn't all that bad Chris, but the wrong people were getting involved for no better reason than they could." Then he turned to Jamie, "And at least you were in a public place, not like someone I know trying to set up meetings through the net. In parking lots. After the stores were closed." He let that one sink in. "I won't ask how much you know about the pier at the Frolics. They're ripping it down this fall, so I won't have to worry about that, will I?" Jamie was as red as I was now. "OK guys, I think that wraps up some problems. So, li'l bro, I assume Chris was your hot date this weekend? The reason I have to tell Ma you been at the beach with me?" "Ummmmmmm...."

"Uh-huh. Don't ask, don't tell. Clinton's contribution to the world. To bad Monica wasn't in on the deal. Ok, I'm going away the end of September. It would be nice if someone took care of my condo while I was gone. It's no big deal if he has some company, but I need someone with a brain to remember things like locking the doors and watering my plants, and all I ask is the sheets get changed before I come back. Gee, Chris, how would you like to housesit for me? Maybe you have a thick sculled but harmless friend who'd like to visit with you till Monday?" Then he slipped out of the room, smiling. Jamie and I sat on the edge of the bed through it all, and we just looked at one another. He was as embarrassed as me. This time, I leaned in and gave him a kiss. It wouldn't hurt to take the lead for a change. We held each other after, and went back downstairs to his family. ***** The evening slowed down after that. They really did their best to make me feel comfortable. They tried to include me in the conversation, but there were just too many holes to fill in, things they all knew and understood but I was lost. I settled for nodding and smiling, but I gave them points for trying. Jamie sat next to me on the couch. Lauren passed in and out, giving her brother and me some dirty looks. Phil began to mellow, Paul was just the same but without all the snickering, and Jeanette... she just watched me carefully. I was being weighed, measured, and decisions were in the balance. Unlike her son, Jeanette was very hard to read. I wondered if Lauren would ever develop that same veil between her face and the rest of the world. Lauren had a mean streak, and if she developed her mother's capacity for distance and study in addition to her own nature the straight boys of Haverhill High were in for a nasty shock. About the only other surprise I picked up on was that Jamie would no longer be playing football. He loved the game, but was told he wasn't willing to work hard enough. The coach had given him an option -- work harder or be gone. Jamie figured that his academics were more important than the game and had turned in everything months ago. "He thinks we're in the NFL and we should spend all our time training. Only way these guys will see inside the NFL is with a ticket or HBO." I didn't mind him leaving the sports field at all. It just meant more time with me. Time... yeah time. It was going to be an important factor. This week, we had some mornings together when we could-- well, you get the idea. Evenings after work we could at least get together, but after this weekend everything was going to be changing. The fall term loomed its ugly head, made only a little better by the thought it would be the last fall term for both of us; at least in high school. Jamie was serious about his grades, and wanted to get into a decent school. I knew I could get into a good, not great, but good college. Boston has a lot to offer in the private sector once you get past the fact that the only way you'll see Harvard is if you're invited over for a visit. The money is impossible, and most never stand a chance for the academic requirements. There are still a lot of good schools north of the city. There was U-Mass at Lowell which has some excellent programs and then Merrimack College was also respectable. Haverhill featured Northern Essex Community College, and was the home of Bradford College until it went bankrupt. That's where Phil Cayman had worked. Right now he was split as a part time instructor at NECCO and Merrimack. The school's closure had shaken the family, but they were rebounding. Phil's chances at Merrimack looked good. Jeanette still had a solid job as an assistant superintendent of the Haverhill schools. I learned that Jamie planned on headed for U-Mass in a year; the distance was commutable and would save them money. Time. Yeah, I was talking about time remember? Well, that was going to be a problem. We'd still be working our jobs, and though I was sure I could get Karen to help us out scheduling my hours, it still had to be fair to the other part-timers. Karen balanced us the best she could, trying to make sure everyone got an even break especially on weekends, and divvied up Sundays, which were

overtime. I didn't know how much flexibility Jamie would have at Old Navy. I hadn't even asked just how reasonable his boss was. Jamie was off Monday, I worked a day shift. Tuesday he worked an evening, and I was off. We connected for Wednesday and Thursday with us both on nights, and it went to hell again on Friday with him in the morning and me closing at Borders. Still, it wasn't that bad. The coming weekend was Labor Day, but it was also my birthday on Friday, something Jamie seemed to know. He knew a lot of things he shouldn't, and it bothered me. "How do you know so much about me?" "Mom's the Assistant Superintendent, it wasn't too hard to look in your records." My eyes widened. "You get into my records?" I didn't like that at all. "Just the basic stuff. I can get in for small things like date-of-birth, address and telephone number, parent's names, things like that. Grades and private files are in a secure field, you need a specific password to get in there and they're all logged. I'd never even try that anyway. I just looked at your basic info 'cuz I was curious. I'd check your class schedule each term, then switched mine around so we'd have classes together. I never played with any of yours, just re-arranged mine." "Why the hell did you do that?" Only Jamie could turn that red, starting from the ears and working down. "Um, well, just because I was afraid to talk to you, doesn't mean I didn't want to at least look at you." We were in his room again, with the door secured. I just stood on my toes and kissed him and he leaned down for me and took me into his arms. So that's how you knew where I lived, Jamie. That's why you were always in my classes. We said good night privately in our own way and he walked me to my car. He slipped a hand into mine as we stood in the dark, squeezed it, and said good night again. ***** The 'rents were home I saw, but they must have gone directly to bed, even though it wasn't much after ten when I got in. I watched some TV in my room and drifted off to sleep. Seven came with an irritating buzz of a clock carefully placed on the other side of the room, guaranteed to get me out of bed. I waved good-bye to my dad on his way out the door and my mother was getting ready to head for her realty office. She gave me an odd look but didn't say anything different than any other morning. I didn't think much of it, made myself a cup of coffee and some toast and pulled myself together. Border's opened at ten, but I would have to be there at nine to get the store ready for the day. Karen wouldn't be in until one, so that meant the morning with Mr. Prendegast, the general manager. His nametag said Daniel, and he never really said anything about it, but you always understood that he was Mr. Prendegast. He really wasn't a bad guy if you did your work, just stuffy, so the morning flowed fairly easy, setting up some new displays for the fall reading lists. Jesus, even the calendars were beginning to show up and Dave and I cleared a section at the front of the store and started building. I noticed a nice beef-cake weekly planner and made a note to quietly buy one when Karen came in. We weren't allowed to ring up our own sales, and I didn't want either Dave or Wynona ringing it up for me. Dave wouldn't have said much I'm sure but he would have remembered it. Wynona was not a favorite person with me or anyone else in the store except for Mr. Prendegast. Wynona was a full-time associate with an eye to the managerial ladder, and decided that since she really wasn't that bright her best course for advancement lay in brown nosing. She was good at brown nosing. Even Karen commented more than once that all she needed were two more legs and an extra long tail to become the perfect rat. Want the boss to know something? Say it in front of Wynona. A small rush from eleven to one kept us busy, and when Karen came in Mr. Prendegast slipped off to his office in the back. No one knew what he did there.

Dave said he had all the back copies of `Penthouse' back there and probably jerked off all afternoon. I half suspected it was more like 'Freshmen' or 'Unzipped' but Wynona was close by so I kept my mouth shut. I nudged Dave and pointed to her with my chin. He just whispered "Hey, so she reports I think he's straight. That ought to make him happy," and laughed. I wanted to say something but didn't. I've known Dave long enough to know he wasn't really a homophobe or anything, and the remark was pretty much on target with Mr. Prendegast. Jamie dropped by a little after Karen took over and she sent me to lunch, but not before she took a long look at him standing on the sidewalk outside the store. Damn, he looked fine. White shorts, red muscle tee and black wrap-around shades. The sandals again too. I could tell Karen liked the sight. Wynona fairly drooled. Did I mention Wynona looked a lot like Margaret Hamilton, the Wicked Witch from `The Wizard of Oz'. Lunch was quick, and I picked up a salad for Karen. No Number 5 (super sized) today. She must have stepped onto a scale that morning. It was Wendy's again, but different from the last time. Monday is dead in retail as a rule, and while the theatre complex was open it didn't get the crowds you see on the weekends. We sat in a larger booth off to the side of the dining area where Jamie was able to at least stretch out his legs into the aisle. I liked looking at those legs. I could think of a place where I'd rather see them, but that wouldn't be happening any time too soon and if I thought of it too much I'd wind up embarrassing myself when I stood. "How about I drop by this evening and meet your parents? Not for dinner or nothin', just me coming in and saying hi before we go out. Kinda get them used to me being around." I had to think about it, and Jamie watched me closely. It made sense of course, because Jamie WAS going to be around a lot. There was more privacy in my house, no little sister and all. For this week anyway I knew Jamie would be coming over on the nights we both worked. It made me nervous, but it wasn't like I was going to say, "Hey, see this guy? He saved my ass in a rest area then pumped it silly." "Sounds good. Figure about seven-thirty, then we can do something." "Great. He-he, I got an idea what I'd like to do, but I think we might be too noisy." I turned red and looked around the dining room, hoping no one heard that one. We walked slowly across the lot. At his car we just stood in the row, shielded from everyone but I only had the nerve to just let him take my hand and give it a squeeze. "Kisses, baby. See you and my new in-laws tonight." ***** The day wound down, and I finished my shift and drove down the highway to my exit, running over the last few days and just looking at how much things had changed. I was no longer a solo act, desperate for companionship. Yeah, it took some incredibly stupid things to bring us together, but we did them even though I don't think I could have gone through it all again. Somehow I'd made it through. Somehow I'd come out a winner. My dad was home even if my mother wasn't, and he said he was impressed with the work on the a/v system, how neat it all looked. I told him the truth that it was mostly my friend Jamie Levesque, and he was dropping by tonight so he could thank him personally. I went up and showered and changed into something more comfortable, and by the time I got downstairs again my mother was home. Dinner was quick and cold, just the thing on a warm night. I told her we would be having company that evening and was it my imagination or was she still looking at me strangely? She didn't say anything unusual so I let it pass. Jamie came in and I introduced him. My father recognized his picture from the Gazette sports section and they talked football. Ok, dad was conquered. He was a football fanatic and I'm sure one of his big disappointments in life was that I had never given a single damn about that sport or any other. He was disappointed

to hear that Jamie's playing days were done, but he did like the idea of having someone around that knew the game, and they were talking about his dropping by on Sundays when the season started. Great, I thought, my dad is kidnapping my boy friend. I was a football widow already. My mother watched him quietly, slowly nodding her head, taking note of the gleam in my father's eyes and Jamie's pleasure in talking with him. She watched them, and kept glancing at me. It was making me uncomfortable. Then my father threw in a dig about me being a complete wash-out about sports. Jamie jumped right in and defended me, saying that there were a lot of things he had seen me do at school that beat hell out of throwing a ball around. My mother's attitude changed, her face softened, and she smiled. "Are you Scott Levesque's boy? Jeanette's son?" "Yeah, but they've been divorced for years, Mrs.--" "Please, call me Dorothy. If Roland says to call him Rolly, you can call me Dorothy." That was a major point score. I had never heard my mother invite any of my friends to call her by her first name. "You look just like your father, Jamie, and it took me back. But I see there's a lot of your mother in you, too. I knew Jeanette years ago, we were good friends when we were young. So, what are you boys up to?" Just as I had been weighed and measured by Jeanette Cayman, so had Jamie been passed by Dorothy St. Jacques. ***** Nothing much happened the rest of the week. Jamie and I grabbed as much time as we could together, made the most of our mornings. I asked Karen about the last week in September, for a whole weekend away. She was skeptical at first, wouldn't give either of us an answer. Finally she got tired of both my long face and Jamie's coming over to whine and she gave in. "I'm gonna have to pull a fast one with the schedule, so when you see it don't freak. I need some back up on this, and I have some arranging to do, because it means screwing Wynona." I shuddered. "There's an ugly thought. Better you than me." "She can buy her own strap on. Just leave it to me. BUT you are going to pay." I shook my head and looked at the sky. "Why me? Why am I always the one who has to pay?" Smugly, "Because I'm the boss, and you're the one that needs a favor. Unless you would rather forget about it?" "No, no, its ok even if it is blackmail." "It's not blackmail, just business technique. I need you to stay late Friday. Figure around 11:00, 11:30." "C'mon Karen! It's my birthday!" "Honey, I hate doing it to you, but it's the only way. I need you for some special set-ups. Dave's opening, so I can't keep him, besides he's still seventeen and I can only work him so late. Wynona pointed out that you turn eighteen Friday, so I can work you like a slave now, and she's tired of being the only one who ever has to stay late because all the part-timers are under age. That's the dark-side of turning eighteen. I can treat you like an adult now." "You mean like dirt?" "That sums it up nicely." For the first time I cursed the fact that I was about to become legally an adult. I hadn't considered the trade-offs before. "Quit bitching," she said. "It's only a lousy hour and a half. You said the parents are gone Friday, right?" "All Labor Day weekend. They're doing a stint at Foxwood Casinos to see if they can blow my college fund." "Yeah, gambling Connecticut style. Thank God for Indian treaties so we don't need Atlantic City or Vegas anymore. Ok, so there's no problem. Jamie will just have to keep it in his pants a little later is all, then you guys can play rabbit when you get home. Now no whining. That's Jamie's job anyway, and if he

starts, I'll just make him wait outside. Besides, if he's so hot for his honey, maybe he'll help and we can all go home early." "You're abusing my boyfriend now?" She shook her head. "I'm just giving you pointers is all. Abusing him is your job, but women are better at it. Look and learn." ***** Friday night. I was eighteen at last. My parents celebrated with me the night before, and I held desperately to the dream that dad would give me a key with the letters BMW engraved, but the check he handed to me was not to be sneezed at, even if it wouldn't cover the down payment. Yep, eighteen today -- and I had to wrap up my first day as a mature adult hauling out cartons of books and setting them up. All my best bitching and moaning had gotten me nowhere. It was Labor Day Weekend no less, and who the hell was coming in to buy books on Labor Day? No one. Even the kids had wiped out the section of Cliffs' Notes to finish up their summer reading lists. The store had been dead all night and we could have done this hours ago, but Karen insisted on doing other things that could have been done anytime. At ten, Dave had shot for the door without a word, and Wynona gave me a smug smile and made a point of saying how nice it would be to get home early. Maybe she'd take a long cool, bath. I hoped her radio fell in the tub. Jamie was here, I could hear him and Karen talking on the sales floor, their voices at least if not what they were saying. Maybe I could get him to help me out so we'd get out of here faster. I came through the door with a loaded two-wheeler. "SURPRISE!!" "?" "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" The two of them stood there with these dumb hats on. Jamie had a fairy princess crown and Karen something like a dunce cap with streamers. They held out a cupcake with a dinner taper stuffed into it and stuck this silver and pink thing with a yellow feather on my head and sang Happy Birthday. But there was something else, too. I saw boxes on the counter, nicely wrapped boxes. Loot. "Yup, he sees the bait. Let's go!" Karen thrust a package at me, and I tore it open. Three semi-transparent boxes with video tapes inside. "I had a friend of mine brew these up special for you. He says the copies are so good, once he kills the lights and rips the cushions on a chair, all he has to do is kick the top off the cat box and its just like being in a porn house. These are re-mastered William Higgins classics. Pre-condom." I looked over the titles. "The Young and the Hung", "Preppy Summer", and "Power Tool". "He said the pool table scene in 'Power Tool' is not to be missed." Jamie picked them up carefully. "Gotta make sure nothing happens to them, babe. I'll guard 'em," and he slid another box to me. I tore that open quickly and pulled open the lid. Inside was a black velvet box. I snapped open the lid, and stood staring at a beautiful silver Cuban link bracelet. I was speechless. Jamie reached down and put it on my wrist carefully. "They had to knock a few links out, so it won't fall off." "Go ahead, runt. Kiss him. Place is empty and the security screens are down." I did just that. "Hey, don't forget the rest of your gift!" I pulled the other package out. "What the hell are these for?" "They'll help with your SPECIAL gift, from me and Jamie. Something you both can use." She handed me an odd-shaped package, something in molded plastic from the feel of it. I tore it open and nearly dropped it on the economy pack of C cells Jamie had given me. "It's the 'Johan Paulik' model, honey. They had a 'Jeff Stryker', but that took

D cells and we figured it was way over the top."

The Boyfriend 4 The Boyfriend

by

Chapter 4 "The Lost Weekend"

I was gripping the black bars, lying face down on the mattress, a pillow tucked under my middle. "Jamie, what are you waiting for? What are you doing?" "I'm slipping a condom on it." "What the hell for?" "You think you're the only one here that wants to play? It'll save clean up later." "Well, it was my birthday present after all." "True, but it was my idea, and you get to use it first anyway. Now don't be such a greedy bitch. You have to be willing to share to make a relationship work you know." Jamie paused, and then I heard this buzzing sound. There was awe in his voice. "Kewlness." "NOW what are you doing?" "Huh? Oh, this thing has variable speeds. Oh WOW! The head wiggles back and forth on 'high'. Didn't you notice? Its adjustable." I had noticed. The `Johan Paulik' model had some nice features but damned if I was going to admit it. What I did have to admit to was impatience. I squirmed, trying to re-adjust the pillow. Just the anticipation was getting me hard. "Planning on starting any time soon? Or should I take a nap?" "Jesus, you are SUCH a pleasure pig. Hold on a sec." I heard the squoosh of the lube tube and knew we were about to begin. I had been waiting for this for over a month. I lay there, letting myself relax, and suddenly I felt his hot breath on my-Wow. I'm really getting ahead of myself here. I mean who starts at the end when they tell a story? Well, I guess we'll just have to wait awhile before we talk about the sex, and let me back up a little... ***** Not much happened in the first month, and that was the trouble. I mean, everyone figures that because you're still in school, you have no responsibilities and that your time is your own. Anyone want to lay odds? Unless you're in a TV sitcom, or your parents are loaded, you don't have time to scratch. Oh sure... part time job, and they laugh at you. Right. A part time job; three nights a week during the week and weekends, every other Sunday off. Friday or Saturday? You work. Some kids flip burgers, some bag groceries. I work in a bookstore and Jamie in retail clothing. Easy jobs? Oh yeah. You only have to deal with the public all the time. The company tells you to lick spit off the floor if they have the price of a magazine in their pocket. Don't misunderstand me, most people treat you with a common decency, and you give the same back. There are also an awful lot out there who think the Proclamation of Emancipation hit the shredder just because you made seventy-five cents over the minimum wage. Ok, that's just your job. Now factor in school. Five days a week, 8 am to 2:30

pm. You sit in a controlled atmosphere of lethargy with some teacher who's just as bored as you. He's delivering the same lectures and announcing the same projects he's been doing since he was certified by the state. Sure, the first five or six years he may have seen it as a challenge, but somewhere along the line he started counting the days to his retirement or at least the next vacation day. So that takes care of school... except for homework, research assignments, term papers, and special reading lists-- things like that. Not to mention your guidance counselor is always there to tell you how you have to be active in the school if you want to catch the eye of the better colleges. Everything has to be down on paper, you see. Your resume begins in kindergarten. There are dark allusions to "your permanent record" if you get out of line. All of which means nothing if you plan to go right to work after you leave school, not that there's anything wrong with that. But if you want to get into a college, the `Curse of the Permanent Record' lurks in the shadows. More time squandered on something you really don't care about. With Jamie, he had an easy out; he quit sports after three years to concentrate on his academics. College recruiters and guidance types swoon at his feet. A jock that can think. They're all knocked out. Me? I ran for Student Rep Freshman year, and lost to this chick with boobs bigger than Britney Spears and a brain cell to match her navel. That marked the demise of my political career. I did get involved with the school paper, writing cheesy reviews of cheesy movies. I was given free passes to what were thought to be "uplifting cinema events for youth." That's adult code for `suck movies' no one wants to see, and the video hits the bargain bin a month after its released. I'd like to tell you I fought pitched battles to review films like "Beautiful Thing" or "Edge of Seventeen," but the truth is I didn't have the guts to admit I'd even heard of them. Our faculty advisor made it clear I was to limit myself to mainstream movies. She told me what I could see and write about, and I'll always wonder about that, because our advisor was also my civics teacher. The one who insisted we understand the Constitution and our rights under it - like freedom of speech and the press. Go figure. So that was on my record, and while I wasn't nerd enough to do the chess club thing I did do drama, and I will thank you all to spare me the laughs because Jamie has exhausted every one of them. Anyway, the point of all of this was how much of a social life did you have left when you factored this all in? Not much! I mean sure, Jamie and I could be together in school as much as we wanted, but let me tell you there are not that many opportunities to even steal a quick kiss, never mind anything else. It was tough, because Jamie was in three of my classes, sitting right where he always sat - a little to my left, and just far enough back so I barely caught site of him from the corner of my eye. I realized now that he had done this for three years, so he could look at me... ME. I never caught him at it, no one ever did. When the bell went off, he was a fixture at my side as we went to class. I know a few people watched us, like Dave Sciuoto. Dave was cool though; he never commented even once, and talked to us both as much as ever but never asked a single question. Dave watched us as we cruised the halls together; watched us meet on breaks and lunch at work. If he suspected anything, he never said a word. But others did notice, and we were catching looks. Jamie was never far away, even going so far as meeting me in the hall between classes that we didn't share, and always grabbing me by the shoulders with that bone-crushing grip of his when I stepped out. I drew the line when he tried carrying my books, because that really was too much and we had a few words about that. It hurt him I know, but Jesus, I didn't want a sign on our backs saying `couple'. He did ease off but he still turned up. We had different lunch periods so we stuck with our old groups. I don't know about his table but mine always came back to the same thing. "Hey, what's with you and Jamie Levesque?"

Stock answer, "We're friends." "Since when? How come you two are so tight all of a sudden?" I'd try to tell them we had a lot in common but they'd look at me who couldn't catch a ball if it landed in my face, and then at Jamie, Mr. Jock Strap himself. Dave Sciuoto would step in and steer the subject elsewhere and I'd be grateful to let the matter drop. I really did wonder how much Dave thought he knew, but neither of us ever went into it. Well, the time together at school was all right, but how about some private time? I mean, we were in our late teens, at the peak of our sexual form, and we had NO place to go. There was always someone at Jamie's place; I swear the Cayman's never went out. To make it worse, on the few occasions they DID go somewhere, there was Lauren. For sheer spite she'd cancel her plans the minute she heard I was going to be there, and I'm not so sure Jamie's parents were too anxious to leave us alone anyway. They accepted us as a gay couple, but I think they wanted to believe we never did anything. It's a lot like when you first learn about sex and somehow you can't picture your parents doing that. It's called denial. I am sure the Cayman's firmly believed in that same denial about their son. Anyway, the point was when we were at Jamie's the farthest we ever went was a quick kiss or two. My house was no better, because while my parents liked going away on the weekends, they didn't range far on weeknights and in the fall cut back their travel. Unlike the Cayman's they didn't know the facts of our relationship, but they'd at least gotten used to Jamie's coming around. My father fell in love with Jamie himself, and together they'd sit and talk the sports page to death until I'd finally get him away. Mostly that meant going to my room. Neither of us wanted to get into much more than a cuddle and an occasional kiss with my parents only a lauan door away. Sure, there's a lock on the door and we'd hear them on the stairs if they came up, but having mom and dad right there does put a damper on things. Jamie and I were pretty under control even when we got going, but there were times we did come out with some loud noises when we got, um, involved and neither one of us wanted to risk it. It was really frustrating having your other half RIGHT there all the time and not being able to touch him. A few times we were so bad off we took his old Crown Vic and parked somewhere and tried for some quick relief, but it was just like when I used to cruise the mall up in Salem. Park in the darkest and most out-of-the-way spot you could find, and guaranteed someone would show up just as things were getting interesting. Nine times out of ten, it was someone you knew with his girlfriend, and for pretty much the same thing. There's that big difference here though. Getting caught by a school buddy with your girlfriend is one thing-- if anything, your reputation goes up. Get caught with your boyfriend, and all hell breaks loose. If it's someone from school that's seen you, the word will travel faster than the 'net with cable. If it's a cop, the same guy who'd chase off a straight couple would just as likely haul your ass off to jail for public lewdness. Shake your heads if you want, but it's the truth. What ought to be just ain't always what is. Besides, the few times we managed to find some relief cruising in Vicky, it wasn't that great. We liked the long foreplay before getting to the main event. There wasn't much long-term satisfaction from a quick dive down and right to business. Worse, Jamie was too big even with the huge bench seat pushed all the way back. You'd be amazed how painful a steering column off the back of the head can be. Forget getting naked. Oh, and it gets cold here in September. The heater in his aging Ford wasn't a lot better than the heater in my aging Toyota, and we wondered what it would be like come December. So... we were really looking forward to the end of September and spending a weekend at Paul's condo in Seabrook. Jamie's boss had already confirmed it. Karen told me not to worry about a thing. It was going to be great, just the two

of us for three solid days, from Friday afternoon after school till Monday morning when we returned. Just the two of us. No trying to get together when our work and school schedules allowed it, no waiting for my parents to go out or away for a night, no awkward moments in the car when everywhere else was too loaded with people for us to... share. I stood looking at the schedule and my mouth dropped. I was off Friday and Sunday, but Karen had me closing Saturday night. She had ruined it all by scheduling me to work right in the middle of our get-away trip. "Don't whine," she said behind me as I stared at the list, even as I started to do that very thing. "Jesus, I said don't whine, Chris. Honest to God, you sound more like a QUIT everyday." It was enough to distract me. "A quit?" "Yeah, a Queen in Training. You'll be ready for the twink bars in Boston in no time. Honest to God, you bitch more than Wynona. At least she has an excuse-she's alone." "If I looked like Wynona, I'd be alone too," I added huffily. "You don't look like her, but you certainly sound like her. I have to put you on the schedule. All part timers have to work on the weekend, that's company policy. But its just paper to keep the regional office happy, they just don't want it to look like we play favorites. It's understood that you'll be calling in sick." "I have to call?" "No, you don't. But Daniel will log in a sick call and fill in for you." My eyes bugged. "Daniel? As in Mr. Prendegast, Daniel?" "That's right. I told him that you were going away, and he agreed to help out. He's, well, sympathetic let's say." She giggled, and gave me a sidelong glance to catch my reaction. "He thinks you two are cute." My boss thought we were cute? "Karen, are you telling me that my boss knows I'm going away with my boyfriend for a get-away weekend?" She shook her head. "We never discussed why you are going away, or with whom. Let's just say that Daniel is... perceptive. He knows what it's like having to duck and hide, just to steal time with someone you love. Daniel is thirty-seven years old and still lives with his mother." She dropped her voice lower, and looked around carefully. "Don't ever repeat this, but he's been in a relationship for ten years, but he's so damn closeted they hardly ever get together. It's so sad," she said, pausing for effect. "That's something you should keep in mind, Chris." Oh yeah, back to this. Karen had been on me to take the big step - Out, and I kept telling her it wasn't time. I was waiting until after I was done with high school. I liked breathing. "We've been over this, Karen." "I know, and I'm not saying you should do it now, but it's something you should keep in mind before you become another Daniel Prendegast. He's so deep in the closet, and everyone knows. He keeps saying `after my mother is gone'. I think she'll live `til she's ninety. But I'm not talking about announcing to the world, Chris. I was only thinking about your family." This was well known territory. Karen was leading back to me talking with my parents, something I was trying to avoid. I knew they wouldn't make a scene, but I just didn't want to go there. And in case there was trouble, I wanted to make sure I was done with high school before the word got out on me. Jamie had brought it up a few times and offered his support. He had done the whole scene, with his brother Paul by his side and it had gone well. I wasn't sure how well it would go with me, so I was waiting for it to go away... like Daniel Prendegast waiting for his mother to die. Anyway, Jamie and I were both looking forward to this weekend. The Caymans accepted the truth on the level that we were just house-sitting. My father thought it was good of me to keep a friend company for a few days. My mother smiled and said she hoped we had a good time. It was her tone of voice that got

to me. Something was up with her, and I didn't know what... yet. Friday arrived and Jamie picked me up for school that morning, and we loaded my things into his trunk. We had so little private time together; we traveled to school as much as our work schedules permitted. The one attempt we made using my car was hopeless. Jamie sat with his knees rammed against the dashboard of my two-door Tercel with his head hunched over, almost a fetal position. I never bothered to close my door when I saw the look on his face and it was unquestioned, thereafter, that Miss Vicky was our transportation by default. The mileage on the Crown Vic truly sucked, it used a suspicious amount of oil, but even if it was an old bomb, it still rode nice. Like my Tercel the air conditioner had given up years before, but its radio worked and without this god-awful humming in the background. I learned to NEVER roll the rear windows all the way down unless you had the spare half-hour to get them back in their tracks when you wanted them up. The bench seats were comfortable for almost anything. They would have accommodated almost anyone for a hot parking session except for Jamie, but we've covered that. Our plan was to do our bit at school, disappear in sixth period and head for the shore. For once, nothing went wrong and we arrived safely in Seabrook, making good time on the highway. It was amazing the difference four weeks could make. Labor Day there were cars backed up from the Maine Turnpike to several miles behind the Massachusetts border, aggravated even more by the Hampton Toll Booth in New Hampshire. The same trip a month earlier would have taken us hours. Today, it was a little better than forty minutes. We were cruising along the back roads of Seabrook when I gradually became aware of this... smell. I wrinkled my nose. "Wow, how close are we to the salt marshes?" These were the equivalent of a swamp-- stagnant seawater at low tide and the odor of rotting vegetation and fish. Jamie chuckled. "A lot closer than you want to know. Paul was determined to live on the coast no matter what, even if he couldn't afford ocean front property. Too bad he looked at this place at high tide with an ocean breeze. Don't worry babe, you get used to it pretty quickly. Figure around Monday morning, just before we leave." He looked at me expecting me to start, but I remembered what Karen had said about me being another Wynona and a QUIT. It wasn't like Jamie could do anything about it, and all I cared about was finally having some uninhibited playtime with my boyfriend. It was still a nice day, even if it was almost October, and all the weather reports had told the same story: clear skies, unseasonably warm temperatures, and bright sun. It didn't matter to me if it rained all weekend. The two of us were away, and even if all the tourist places were pretty much closed down, there were still a lot of nice things we could do, and when we had exhausted them we could spend time together in private. No looking over our shoulders to see who was coming, or listening for sounds at the door signifying an unexpected parental return. Just as the stench of the marshes became unbearable, Jamie pulled into a narrow drive with this high cinder block wall painted pink. An ornamental gate was mounted to it, and this big, ugly lamp doing a lousy imitation of a gaslight. I looked for a pink flamingo and was fortunately disappointed. It might suggest 'quaint New England' to someone from a distant city, but to me it just looked plain tacky. I squinted at the ivy draping the barrier, which seemed uncommonly lush for this time of year. Not exactly plastic, but it was nothing that ever grew naturally. "Tacky, huh? I give Paul a hard time about that." I was starting to worry what the place might look like, but as we cleared the gate I was surprised. It was a court of six semi-detached townhouses, four units to each structure. Uniform in design of course, painted a soft bluish gray, each section of the unit set just a little bit further back than its neighbor. No one

could easily see the comings and goings of anyone else, at least in their building. There were well established and manicured shrubs, with borders of colorful, fall `mums lining the walks. The grass was still a rich, deep green. Nothing at all that I had expected when I saw the front gate. Two other things missing were a pool and a playground. Paul had chosen wisely, since the two hinted, if not guaranteed, no little kids. Jamie guided Vicky into a numbered parking space to the left of the first building. As we got out of the car, I saw a shade pulled back in a nearby unit that faced the parking lot. "We have an audience," I said nudging Jamie who was just pulling our things out of the trunk. He never even bothered to turn. "That's just Stanley," he replied. "Stan checks out everything that moves around here. He likes the way both Paul and I move, he-he." Before I could ask what he meant by that, the door of Stan's unit flew open. Stan must have been forty judging from his face, but not by the way he dressed. The shorts were cut just a little too high, worn a little too snug, and a little too... arranged. Did I mention the color? Pink, of course; very faded, like they had been around for a while-- not unlike Stanley himself. He was my height and probably close to my weight, but it sort of hung down in the middle, another reason his short-cut purple tee was a poor choice. His hair was a deep brown until he got too close, then it took on that purplish hue that screams `L'Oreal Look' in natural light. From there, you got a closer look at the rest. Thick glasses that magnified his eyes, a dull washed out gray. His skin was deeply tanned, but it was also the skin of a man who has seen too many tannings, and was deeply lined making him look older. Something else that gave the lie to the hair color. He had a strange nose, with a bump in the middle. A huge gash of a mouth topped it off, I thought. Then he got closer and no, the mouth didn't top it off; the makeup did. Just to accent the haggard skin, you saw the cruelties of adult acne aggravated by makeup not-so-carefully applied to the spots. "Jamie! Paul said you'd be by to keep an eye on things. Haven't seen much of you this season. Job and a girlfriend keep you away this year?" Whiney voice, very nasal, topped with a slight accent; not foreign, just not from around here. His eyes were totally fixed on Jamie; I didn't exist. "Something like that, Mr. Keralski," said Jamie, never pulling his head out of the trunk. I did notice that he twitched his backside a bit, and seemed to suddenly stretch out deeper into the trunk to grab something. His butt moved higher into the air, and Stan seemed to enjoy that. Jamie then stood, and gave the neighbor the most complete `air-head blonde' look, as he draped one of his thick arms over my shoulder, giving me a squeeze. He managed to use me as a barrier between himself and Stan. "This is my friend, Chris. We'll be staying until my brother gets home Monday." "Mr. Keralski, pffft! Call me Stanley, I've told you that before." He looked at me now as Jamie leaned into me a little more. Almost like he was trying to hide behind me. Then I saw Stan's eyes as they focused on me. Lizard eyes, big lizard eyes stared me down. Stanley Keralski hated me for sure, but smiled with everything but those eyes. Jamie knew it, and began rubbing his fingers over the top of my shoulder and maneuvered his body just a little closer than he should be. Stanley held his hand out to me reluctantly, and I took it with the same feeling. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Keralski. Oops! I mean Stanley. Hehe, sorry... I was brought up to respect my elders." I felt Jamie's hand squeeze my shoulder hard, and Stanley fixed those lizard eyes on me as he shook my hand. He twisted his lips into a sweet little smile, but those eyes fired lasers. "Such a nice little boy." Then to Jamie, "You'll have to stop by sometime this weekend. Todd will be home in a few hours, stop in for a beer. Oh, and you're welcome too, Chris. Really." `I'll just bet I am, you bitch,' I thought. We tried to be evasive, but it just

didn't work. Finally, we agreed to stop by in the evening. Stanley walked with a sashay across the lot to his unit. God, I thought to myself. If Karen thought I was a Queen in Training, I knew I had just met an Empress. We were at the front door. "He hates you now. You do know that don't you?" Jamie fished through his ring for the key. "I'm devastated, but he hated me before I said anything. Does he always look at you like that? Like he's ready to jump your bones?" He flicked the lock. "Yup. He's been giving me the eye for two years now, back when I helped Paul move in here. He eyes Paul a lot too. I think his fantasy is the three of us in a jail cell, Paul in uniform with a whip and him in chains." "Where do you fit in?" "Probably in front, with Paul bringing up the rear. That was a hell of a dig, by the way," and he led us into our weekend home. Paul lived well. The rooms were open and spacious, as you stepped through the door onto a small tile entry that changed to a pickled white oak floor. This lead to the dining area, done up in the same oak, and acted as barrier to the living room. The open living area had a deep burgundy carpet. Off-white leather sofa and love-seat, facing an a/v center clustered around a 52" projection TV. Nice sound system hook-up too, from what I could see. In the outer right of the room, a fireplace and wood to fill it. I immediately made plans for that fireplace whether it got chilly or not. We'd just have to be careful not to spill anything on the carpet. The dining room was nicely furnished as well; glass top table, but not the K-Mart cheapy, a heavy plate glass top with beveled edges on two marble-look supports. The chairs were simple round-backs with cushions. Comfortable, I knew. The kitchenette was exactly that. Small and cramped, meant for work, and that was all. "Now for the best part. Check out the view." Jamie pulled a cord, and the drape flew back exposing a pair of sliders leading to a deck. I stood gawking. "That's his view? Seabrook Station?" He snickered. "Yeah, another reason this place was so cheap." I stood there, staring at the containment dome of Seabrook One and its half-constructed twin, a maze of rusting girders and panels. Its construction had been halted nearly twenty-five years before in federal court on the petitions of the states of Maine and Massachusetts. "We're living next door to a nuclear power plant?" "Only for a couple of days. But, um, let's say we check out upstairs?" He was biting his lower lip again, so I knew he meant the bedroom. It was a fast flight for both of us. Jamie nearly broke through the door and then we both stopped. "Damn. Paul's redecorated." A king-size bed along the outer wall dominated the room. It was a four-poster, made of wrought iron, with a rail along the four sides, and fitted with brass accents. The head and footboards gave the effect of a cage. Black wrought iron bars... I was wondering if Paul took his job as a cop a little too seriously. Jamie loved it, and I had to confess being more than a little interested. I sat on the edge of the bed, running my hand over the cold iron bars before I spoke. His mouth was slightly open, and I saw a faraway look in his eyes. "Picturing my ankles tucked up in there?" "More like mine," he said from his distant place. Then his eyes spotted this old trunk. He smiled, walked over to it. There was a Master padlock on it. "Still the same old Paul..." "What does that mean?" He snickered. "Paul and I shared a room when we were kids. He bought this trunk for his private magazine collection and a lot of other stuff he didn't want me messing with." He edged it away from the wall and checked out the back. "Nope. He's never noticed." "Noticed what?"

Jamie looked around, saw a pair of needle nose pliers lying on the dresser. He grabbed them, then pulled the pin from each hinge and lifted the top forward. "That I knocked off the bottom hinge guards when we were kids." He looked down, and I saw his eyes light up as he began to rummage through. A leather motorcycle cap flew at me, followed by a leather vest. Then Jamie sat on the floor howling, pulling out a pair of leather chaps and held them up. "I knew it. I knew that motorcycle freak would have something like this!" I looked at the outfit and tried picturing Paul Cayman wearing it, adding the sunglasses I'd seen him wearing at the beach. No shirt, of course; and the chaps had no crotch or back, just the leggings, those meeting at a belt. All he'd need was a mustache, and he'd be a Tom O'Finland model. "Doesn't it give you ideas, C?" "Yeah," I said with my mind drifting to those ideas. "It's just too bad none of this stuff will fit you. The chaps maybe, but you'd split the vest up the back, and this hat would never fit." He was walking to me slowly, a gleam in his eyes. "What makes you think I'm the one who's gonna wear `em?" I thought it over for a long time, maybe six seconds. "OK, but next time is definitely by the fire place." ***** We had arrived a little after 3:30, but now it was almost seven. It had been weeks since Jamie and I had gotten together for more than something quick, so we made the most of our first totally free time together. Not that it was all just sex, though there was plenty of that. We enjoyed just being naked together in the bed, twisted and twined, kissing and touching one another and we even dozed for a while... until the phone started. We assumed it was Stan and when we checked the message we were right. Todd was home and they were anxious for us to come and visit. Well, I was glad they were anyway, and Jamie wasn't looking forward to it much, but he dialed the number from the caller ID and said we would drop by shortly if that was still ok. I could hear Stanley halfway across the room oozing how scrumptious that would be. I shook my head, and Jamie just smiled thinly and rolled his eyes until he was able to get off the phone. Then being the conservationists we were at heart, we saved water by showering together. It was a first. Paul's shower was a freestanding unit, larger than a tub enclosure. Jamie called it the party model, and I wondered just how Paul Cayman did get his kicks. All we really did was shower, but I know we both placed it on our `to do' list before the weekend was out. It would be a tossup over who would drop the soap first. I'd hoped for a Jacuzzi, but no such luck; we'd have to wait a bit before we lived out that little fantasy. Hey, you have to have something to look forward to. We both agreed to replay our little leather experiment, and I really wasn't all that sure that Jamie was joking when he said he'd have to have a look around and see if Paul had left his handcuffs behind. It was a warm evening, so I slipped on some board shorts and a new A&F tee; I was a little surprised when I saw Jamie dressed in a pair of khakis and a button down shirt. Jamie must have read the look on my face; he just said he planned on giving Stanley as little skin to look at as possible. I considered changing, but figured, what the hell, Stan didn't even know I existed. "Don't worry, Todd's a cool guy," he told me, putting my mind at rest. He dialed ahead, and neither of us looked forward to that long, unwanted walk across the parking lot. There was a lot of loud music coming from there, and there seemed to be a crowd, but the condo lot was relatively empty. Jamie pointed out the visitor lot closer to the gate. It was full. "Umm, maybe we should rethink this?" I was about to ask, but the door flew open before I could even mouth the first words. "Jamie!" Stan almost shrieked. "Todd, come see! Jamie is visiting!" He grabbed Jamie by the arm and dragged him through the door. He didn't quite slam the door

in my face, but it was close. Jamie turned to me with this pleading look on his face as he was hauled across the room. So I stood there, and looked it over, and its occupants. The room was filled with a group of... different types. One was lounging in a chair as I walked by, and he ran his fingers up my leg. "Fresh meat," he said to his companion, who giggled. "The mall rat look- so cute on the little ones, don't you think? What are you, kid? Fourteen or fifteen?" I stepped back and looked at them. Lestat and Louis came to mind. Decked out in twin black outfits, silver jewelry massed on their chests, the shorter one speaking had his hair dyed chalk white. At least as old as Stanley, I thought. Sharp, pointed fingernails painted red. The other had jet-black hair and wore these round, tiny, ugly black-framed glasses. Lestat was a bit over-weight; enough to prove that he shouldn't consider a shirt made of spandex. Louis was so thin I wondered if he lived on an IV. His hand was getting very familiar with my thigh. "I'm eighteen," I replied flatly, and pointedly removed his hand from my leg. "Oh, you're still a child!" Louis rattled on. "I should just take you under my wing and give you a special lesson." He turned and giggled at Lestat who broke up. They were drunk enough to think each other incredibly funny. "Don't be greedy. We can both share him!" I don't like drunks who think that being ignorant is funny. I fixed them both with as steady a look as I could manage. "Sorry sir. Maybe for a hundred each I might let you play, but I'm really not much into the daddy thing." "Mean little queen," the chubby Lestat said. The other one summed me up in a single word with a single syllable that begins with `c' and rhymes with `hunt.' I had clearly made two more friends. I looked around the unit, which had the same layout as Paul's, except for sets of bi-fold doors that separated the dining area from the living room. The place was jammed with furniture, all of it old, mostly mismatched, and if you think antique is just another word for being old, then they were antiques. To me they looked like rummage sale rejects and Sears scratch-and-ding center close-outs. I was particularly drawn to a group of tacky paintings over the plaid couch. "Isn't the black velvet painting thing chic! So retro. I don't know which is best, the matador or the Elvis," someone fairly screeched in my ear. I turned and saw this guy who looked like pictures you saw from the sixties. Those helmet-like haircuts with the long bangs. Was it the Beatles look? He was decked out entirely in denim: pants, shirt, and jacket. There was a heavy black belt around his waist, encrusted with silver studs. The denim shared space with his jewelry. I had been watching TV Land a lot, and it looked like he had called the number for Ronko and snapped up a `Mr. T Starter Kit'. His neck was layered with chains. Each ear had at least three gold piercings. His hands flashed gems and gold. He wasn't drunk but he clutched a glass as if for life, and I noticed he swayed back and forth as if listening to music from another place. Fortunately, his hands didn't wander to my body and maybe he looked strange, but he had a pleasant smile. He looked me over carefully, then leaned in close, and whispered. "Stay close, kid. I'll help keep the hands off. Besides, they live on straight vodka and bar snacks. They lose interest pretty fast," he said quietly. I was grateful. He did put a hand on my shoulder, but there was nothing threatening about him and he didn't act like he wanted to explore my terrain, so I left it there. "I don't suppose you've seen our host?" I asked. "Stanley? Dragging this big blond guy behind him?" He looked at me appreciatively. "Was that yours? Jesus, you've done pretty well. He was being towed into the kitchen. I'm Dwayne, by the way." I introduced myself, and he led me to the dining area. Jamie had Stanley glued to one arm. Stan's other arm was wrapped around Jamie's waist, and I didn't fail to notice that his thumb was hooked into Jamie's back pocket, and Stan was patting an ass

that belonged to me. Jamie had this scared rabbit look on his face, and I swear I saw him mouth the word `help.' This was my protector? This was the guy who a month before picked up a bruiser and tossed him in a trash can for threatening me? Stanley was no bigger than me, Jamie could have squashed him if he wanted, but he was as much in terror of him now as he had been in the parking lot this afternoon. I looked at Stan. He was tacky, over done, loud, and rude. He had also raided the jewelry store, and sported this incredibly large diamond in his right ear, which would have made a nice pendant for my mother. I swear, when I looked you could see the one ear hanging lower than the other. He didn't have as much gold as Dwayne, but he had plenty of it. I had to admit the forest green silk shirt looked nice with the black dress pants. They were talking to two others, or at least Stanley was talking at them as his hands wandered over MY man. One was maybe a few years older than Stan. His voice was a little over the top, but he had a nice smile. This one was smart enough not to dye his hair, but he dressed way out of it. The pants were at least a size too small, and he could have gotten away with it better if it weren't for the shirt; a stringy, peacock blue French tee that showed too much of his flabby arms and chest and snuggled to his waistline. He had dangly earrings, the type you see on easy women in old `B' movies. The other was a man taller than Jamie by a good four inches and a hundred pounds heavier. His stringy, thinning hair was pulled tight across his skull and tied back in a ponytail that reached halfway down his back. Stanley referred to him as Pugsley and sent him off to refill his drink. Pugsley never said a word, just took the glass, and walked away. "I think you forgot one of your guests at the door, Stan," Dwayne said. Stanley just gave me this strained smile and giggled. "Well, I guess my manners need some work." They needed a major over-haul but I let it go. "I'm Chris. I'm Jamie's friend," I said simply. "I'm Todd," said the peacock blue French tee. He looked at his partner. "You didn't mention Jamie had a friend." Stanley just stood and wobbled his head with his lips pursed. Jamie used the excuse to bolt from Stan's grip. He was hiding behind me again, hand glued to my shoulder and body pressed against my back. "Yeah, this is Todd, Chris. Stanley's, ummm..." "Other half," Todd said simply, and offered his hand. He may have looked silly, may have been more feminine than I liked a man to be, but he was nice. His grip was just firm enough to make you feel secure, and his pale blue eyes had a dance in them that said he could be fun. "I guess if you've looked around, you can see that everyone is a bit on the gay side." Stanley giggled, and I smiled sweetly at him. "Some more than others," I said. Todd snorted, and I got the lizard eye from Stan, and I saw a nostril flare. Todd offered me a drink, and I accepted a beer. Somehow, I didn't think it was a good move for me to trust a mixed drink if Stanley was doing the pouring. Jamie was still glued to my side. I took his other hand in mine. "Why should it bother us? Jamie and I are together too." I looked very deliberately at Stanley. "That means he's my boyfriend. You get it don't you? It means he's taken." Dwayne's eyebrows shot up, while Todd, looked us casually up and down, smiling. I think I even saw a twitch at the corner of Pugsley's mouth. Stanley just glared. I wondered what could possibly have been going on in his head. Jamie was half his age, clearly not interested, and obviously uncomfortable with the plays Stan kept making - in front of his partner, no less. He had no chance, but he kept fawning and pawing. How could he be that blatant with Todd standing right there? How much of this was the booze? I moved in closer to Jamie and held his hand still, and I felt his other arm ride down from my shoulder and press against my ribs as his body pressed lightly against my back.

Todd shook his head, smiling. "God, if I had your guts at eighteen. And luck." Louis and Lestat had joined us, and Pugsley handed Stanley his glass and me a cold bottle of beer. "I'm still seventeen," Jamie threw in out of nowhere. One of the vampires groaned. The other murmured something about "jail bait" and they both laughed at each other's brilliance. Stanley was off center stage, and didn't much like it. His eyelids fluttered and he squinted. "Really Jamie, you shouldn't tie yourself down so young. There are just so many fun things ahead if you play the field." I gave him one of those sweet smiles, not unlike Roger Moore in his James Bond days. "The trouble with playing the field too long is that sooner or later you get trampled by the new players. The smart ones learn to quit before that," I stated. "Score," Todd mouthed, just barely. Dwayne raised his glass. "What a little bitch," Louis stage-whispered to Lestat. "This one's ready for the Attitude Room at Avalon!" ***** We lay there, warmed by the fire and stretched out on a quilt that had been tossed onto the arm of the sofa. Sitting on the apron of the fireplace was an empty bottle of champagne and two flutes. Not a big bottle, just enough for two people; one for a toast, then another to enjoy. Paul had bought it for Jamie, and stashed it in a small refrigerator in the cellar. The fire was burning low now. Jamie had built it when we got back from Todd and Stan's. They had all gone off to some bar in Portsmouth for the evening. Todd said he could probably get us in if he spoke to the bouncer, but Jamie and I had declined. I liked Todd, and their friend Dwayne. Stanley, Louis, and Lestat were another matter. I had no opinion of Pugsley, who had just sat and stared the entire evening, never saying a word. I noticed the vampires and Stanley picked on him constantly. Jamie was stretched out beside me, and my fingertips traced a trail along his thigh, barely touching his skin. I smiled as I saw a shudder pass over him. He had his head resting on one arm and we lay naked, crotch-to-crotch, which put my head about even with his neck. "On Monday it might be a good idea if you wear a mock or a turtle neck to school." He smiled, and tweaked my nipple. "Ouch!" I said. "Easy, they've been tenderized." "It was your idea to bite `em. So you gave me a hickey to get even?" "I'll say I did. Looks like Lestat sucked you dry." His eyes widened in mock shock. "Damn, and I thought that was you getting good at it. Oh! You meant my neck!" I smacked him one across the left buttock, then rubbed it. God he had a great ass. His hand came up the small of my back and he pressed me closer to him. I nestled my head against his chest, and looked up into his face watching the flames reflect off his eyes. "Jamie, do you think we'll get like that?" "What do you mean?" "Well, getting old is one thing, that happens. Do you think we could get that nasty and bitchy? Making a play for anything that moves?" "Well you've got the bitchy thing down pretty good," he sniggered. I rubbed my tongue over a small chip on my left incisor, and made a mental note that Jamie would pay for that remark later. "Whoever got it tonight deserved it. Todd was nice, so was Dwayne. And I've got nothing against poor Pugsley. The vampire twins and Stanley were just plain jerks." Jamie sighed, and his fingers played across the back of my neck. "I don't know. I hope not. The worse thing about Stanley grabbing me all night was the way he did it right in front of Todd, and Todd never said anything or even acted like he noticed. I mean no one said they were a couple before exactly, but that's the idea I got from Stan." He ruffled my hair. "I forgot to say something. Thanks."

"For what?" "Tonight. You told everyone in that room what we are to each other. It's the first time you ever did that. You called me your boyfriend." He leaned down and kissed my head. I turned my face upward and brushed my lips over his. "There's something else I never told you either." "Hmmm?" "I love you, Jamie." I felt his arms wrap around me, and was drawn close to his chest. His big hands gently stroked my hair, and I swear I heard a sniffle, but said nothing as I hugged back. I know I fell asleep like that, just curled up against his body, wrapped in his arms. Later that night I awoke, and found that we were in the bed. I didn't remember waking so I knew I had been carried. Jamie was awake, and must have heard the change in my breathing. I felt his hands gently rub over me and I responded, coiling my legs and arms around his. His mouth found mine. We didn't need any costumes or toys or special places this time; this time wasn't about just sex. Yeah, sex was a part of it, but this time we made love. Climax wasn't the aim here, just slow coupling and giving one another pleasure as an expression of how one felt for the other. When it was over Jamie fell into a deep sleep, but not before he whispered something in my ear. It was nearly dawn, so I pulled on one of the terry robes Paul had left behind and went down to the kitchenette to make some coffee. There was no sense trying to sleep and I didn't want to disturb Jamie. I took a mug and stepped onto the rear deck, feeling the early morning breeze, which, thank God, was off the ocean this morning and not the salt marshes. I just sat and watched the sun rise, something I hadn't done for a long time. Even the dome of Seabrook Station and its deformed, stunted twin couldn't take away from that sight. It was nearly October and a bit chilly now but the robe was thick and warm as I settled into the deck chair. I wished I had the sense to find some fuzzy slippers but instead of going back to look tucked my feet under me and sipped my coffee. I thought of the words Jamie had spoken into my ear, and I smiled. That night in August when I first came to really know Jamie, all I had wanted was sex, thinking that was what it was all about. Now, I knew there was a lot more. And those words? Well, maybe I'll tell you one day. But those words were meant for me, and I'll be treasuring them for a while.

Chapter 5 "Son of the Lost Weekend"

My God, the feeling was incredible... Jamie was easing the speed up after he worked `Johan' deep inside me, and had found my most sensitive spot. What is it about having someone else doing it to you that made it so different? A matter of angle and your own position? I was going crazy... Still face down, my belly propped up on a pillow, I began to writhe on the bed, and was starting to loose control. Then Jamie hit the high speed and every muscle in my body tensed. I arched up and clamped down hard. I was riding a wave and heading for the coast and all that salty spray was about to be splashed across the shore. I could hear Jamie's breathing become heavy as

he worked the toy inside me, and then... then... "Oops." Something was wrong. Very wrong. There was a completely different feeling now. Much deeper, too. "`Oops'?" "Ummm..." "Jamie, what did you do?" ". . . . ." "Don't you dare jock out on me! What just happened?" He crawled up beside me, so I knew something was really wrong, because Johan was still busy down below, vibrator set on high. "C? Please don't be mad, ok hon? Umm... heh-heh... It slipped." But that was Sunday night, and so far we've only covered the Friday Night Bitch Fest. I know I said it last time, but believe me, we really will be getting to toy time with Johan soon. After all, there was still all day Saturday and Sunday before sundown. ***** I sat out on the deck till I finished my coffee, then went back inside. My shorts and shirt were still in the living room so I slid these back on, not wanting to risk waking Jamie by going up to the bedroom. I found my Nike's and slipped them on since the kitchenette floor was tile and icy cold. I figured out how Paul's TV system worked, and kept the volume low as I checked out first the Weather Channel (sunny skies and warm weather for the week-end) then switched over to the news. This was going to be my first presidential election, so I was following the progress of the candidates with as much interest as I could muster. I wasn't impressed. In my house, presidential politics were always a big deal with my dad, but he said this time around he just didn't see the point. He liked Slick Willy for no better reason than he hated Newt Gingrich, but they were gone from the scene. This year when he said "That asshole," it was a coin toss whether he was talking about the Vice President or the Governor of Texas. My mother said he missed the good old days of presidential politics, and that his favorite memory was picketing the White House and celebrating with the crowd when Richard Nixon resigned. You'd never know politics could be that much fun. `Indecision 2000' was stumbling to an end with just over a month of campaigning to go. My father said it would all be over by about nine o'clock election night, not like in 1968 when it took until noon the day after the election to announce the winner. I couldn't imagine it taking that long. I watched CNN, listened to some sound bites, and then switched over to the Cartoon Channel to enjoy some vintage Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. At least they were interesting. After awhile I began prowling through the kitchen cabinets, taking inventory. I decided to make Jamie a good breakfast, no sugar feast like our first two mornings. I found some pancake mix, and checked the directions to make sure we had all the other stuff. I also spotted a pound of bacon and some orange juice. OK, I thought. A power brekkie for me and ma bay-bee! Even I could manage that. I was sure of it. I premixed the pancake batter and set it in the fridge, making only toast and some juice for myself to take the edge off the gnawing in my stomach. As soon as I heard noise upstairs I'd throw it all together and have things under-way when Jamie came down. I put two frying pans on the stove and decided it would be best to warm them up a little-just so there wouldn't be any delays. Feeling proud of myself I went back to the living room and caught the beginning of a Tom and Jerry festival. I like those guys. I always hope Tom will pull it off one day and have a Jerry sandwich, much the same way I hoped that Sylvester would one day win a round with whatever he was battling. Of course I always wanted Porky to get shot by Elmer. Bugs was cool though; he was my kind of guy. The ultimate smart-ass who always pulled it off. Now, there was a role model. I'm not sure how long I sat watching, but finally I heard the sound of Jamie

lumbering around the bedroom when `The Flintstones' came on, and the telltale flush that marks most mornings. I buzzed into the kitchen and cranked up both burners from medium to high. I tossed the full pound of bacon in and jumped when I heard the grease start to spatter, but bacon always spatters, right? No matter. I grabbed the bowl of pancake mix and poured it into the other pan. It splattered back at me. Some of it caught me in the face and I staggered back into the counter, knocking something with my elbow before I slipped and slid down to the floor. I sat there thinking "what the f-" and almost made it to the `u' when the orange juice started pouring down on me. The acid blinded me, and then I could smell something I shouldn't have, and I don't mean salt marshes this time. I smelled smoke. Then I heard the smoke detectors. "SHIT!" I heard pounding across the floor, then Jamie swearing some more and the sound of running water then the banging of cabinets, and finally these swooshing sounds. I was blinking the orange juice out of my eyes when this jet of water hit me full in the face. Jamie was standing in front of me, looking very pissed and holding the sink sprayer. "What the hell did you do?" "Um, well, I thought I'd make breakfast." "Breakfast? Before or after the fire department got here?" "Fire department?" "Yeah, you had a double alarm going. Flaming bacon in one pan and whatever the hell's in the other." My eyes were clearing enough so I could see into the sink. My pancakes looked a tad over done. Well, more than a tad. They were black and charred. Then I looked at the stove. It was covered in white foam, and I couldn't really see the bacon, but I guess it was there somewhere. There were also some lovely scorch marks on the range hood and up the sides of the cabinets. I wrinkled my nose. In a small voice, "Did I do that?" "No. Louis and Lestat came in and spontaneously combusted. Who the hell else could've done it?" I swallowed, and walked over to the pan in the sink. I jabbed at it with a spoon. It had the feel as well as the look and texture of charcoal. "Well, I guess pancakes are out." "From now on, stick to cereal ok?" The pan with the batter was a loss. How did I know you were supposed to grease it? We use Teflon at home, and this iron pan stuff was lost on me. And so ok, maybe letting them heat up for almost an hour wasn't the smartest thing in the world to do. The one with the bacon in it would be ok, and most of the scorch marks wiped off the cabinets. Well, a good part of them anyway. Jamie was talkative. Whenever I'd try to speak he'd say, "Shut up." He muttered a lot though, and I really had a hard time making out much besides "dumb sonuvabitch" and "stupid twink." There were a few other words he must have picked up from his grandparents. They were in French Canadian, and sounded a lot like the things my grandfather said when he was ticked off. They must have been pretty good too, because my Nan used to yell at him when he said them in front of me. After a subdued breakfast of shredded wheat and toast we cleaned up the rest of the mess in the kitchen, or rather Jamie did. He had calmed down quite a bit and was only cursing in English when I accidentally hit him with the mop. I turned and he stood there, leaning against the stove and holding his crotch, a pained expression on his face. He just said, "Get the fuck out," real calm like, and I took that as a good cue to exit. I slunk off to the bedroom and started picking things up until I heard him on the stairs. His face was still a grim mask when he entered. "I'm gonna take a shower. Try not to screw up anything else?" "Hey, want company?" But the door slammed and I thought twice about going in and surprising him. I settled for folding up the leather goods and setting them

aside. I did have one little brain flash though; Jamie had been eager to play with our "Johan Paulick," so I dug him out of the bottom of my night bag, inserted fresh batteries and set it on the night stand. Jamie had been fascinated with it since my birthday, but bad timing had kept us from indulging in any of his little fantasy trips and so far this weekend we had been trying out a few other things. I was pretty certain who was going to do the playing and who was going to be played with, but I resolved to play dumb when the time came. Then the water stopped, and I peeked into the bathroom. Jamie was shaving, just a towel thrown over his shoulder. Given my luck that morning, I really didn't want to irritate him while he had a razor in his hand. He did look in a better mood. I guess maybe our little Lucy/Ricky routine was over. "So, what are we doing today?" "Looking into added fire insurance for one thing. Just in case my brother ever really does ask us back." "Ok, Jamie, I get the point. How about putting the knives away?" I said, standing in the doorway. He just grunted and continued to shave. I began shucking my clothes, and I could see him watching in the mirror with this sly smile on his face. Well, at least he was thinking of sex again, which meant his mood really was improving. I wiggled my butt at him as often as I could, and did my best to give him a show. His eyes followed me in the mirror, so when I went to adjust the water in the shower I leaned in sideways on one leg facing him, giving him a great dangle shot. Once I had the water set to just the right side of barely warm I stepped in. I'm sensitive to heat, and always have to just ease it up as my body slowly adjusts. "Chris?" "Yeah babe?" "Sorry about being such a grouch about the fire," he said. "But on the other hand, think of this as payback for the shot in the balls." It didn't click for a second, but then I heard the toilet flush. ***** I kept watching him from the corner of my eyes, seeing that smug, superior look on his face. I had let out one gawd-awful screech when the water went from barely warm to downright scalding. I couldn't hear him laughing in the bedroom, but I know he did. Ever since then he had this smirk on his face. I wasn't going to dignify him with any remarks about it, so I just decided to move on like nothing had ever happened. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold. We were headed down 1-A now, that long highway of the `30's that skirts the coastline of New England. In tourist season it's a parking lot, but right now it was just this long stretch of road passing cottages and beach as the local terrain allowed. There was the drawbridge over the mouth of the Seabrook River, followed by a stretch of the salt marshes on our left and the Atlantic on our right as we ran north into Hampton Beach. Some time way back, Hampton had been regarded as a "family resort", and here and there you could see the remnants of what were once considered fine bed and breakfast type hotels. Somewhere along the line the clientele had shifted to a youth market, and the fancy family hotels gave way to crowded guesthouses. Like its sister city, Salisbury, across the Massachusetts border, Hampton had become a honky-tonk town. Salisbury was pitched to two markets; the first was a kid's paradise of carnival rides, fast food, and arcades. At night when the kids were gone, it was a nest of cheap bars. Paul Cayman was right when he said the town had a lot of cleaning up to do. Hampton had captured the teen and young adult market. Yeah, there were still the arcades and fast food places, but there were a ton of different shops, some dealing with, um, paraphernalia that were banned in Massachusetts. But there were also `artist displays,' the paintings turned out by factories with a set amount of hand finishing on them so the law allows them to be sold as

hand-painted. Next door to these were true galleries featuring the work of serious if not well-known artists. Every place sold tee shirts, novelties, and summer junk. Hampton also boasted the Hampton Beach Casino, which booked big acts throughout the summer. Not mega-stars, but good groups on their way up, sometimes on their way down. It was a good place to be in the summer, and lots to do. They did firework displays several times a week to keep the tourist trade flowing through. It was crowded, sometimes unkempt, but a friendly type of beach. The cops could be tough but then they had to be. We pulled into a parking space on Ocean Blvd, right next to the public beach. This never happened in summer, and even if it did it was no bargain. You'd spend the day stuffing coins into the meter, and if you were late a cop was there writing a ticket. If he came back an hour later and the meter still hadn't been fed he radioed one of the fleet of tow trucks that stood by. This time of year there was no charge. We stepped out of the car and after less than ten seconds in the brisk sea breeze we were digging some sweats out of the trunk. Jamie's idea of course, since I had judged by the easy 70-degree weather and the bright sun inland at Paul's condo, and never thought of the cooler breeze from the Atlantic. Jamie settled for a gray hooded sweatshirt that zipped up the front. He wore a pair of shorts cut from the same material. I liked those shorts --the soft cotton hugged his body beautifully, and you could see every ripple in the muscles of his butt when he walked. Other things tended to show nicely up front, too. For example, it was kind of obvious that Jamie wasn't wearing any underwear. Good thing the shorts were cut long. He didn't bother with the sweat pants, but I pulled on a pair anyway. There's a lot more of Jamie than there is of me and I suppose he just doesn't feel the cold as much as I do. I pulled out a white sweatshirt and hauled it on. "Hey, gotta get the right look," he said and began fishing through a bag tucked in the corner of his trunk. "Got `em." He put a pair of sunglasses on my nose, plunked a hat on my head backwards. He came up with one of those white sailor caps with the brim turned down and a pair of Terminator wraparounds. "Cheap sunglasses and dumb hats. Just the kinda thing that says `tourist at the beach'." I pulled the hat off and looked at it. "Fighting Cocks? Real appropriate!" "Heh, just the thing for a South End QUIT! And the glasses give you that movie star look." I looked into the side view mirror. "Tom Cruise in `Risky Business'?" He was thoughtful. "No, with your nose more like Michael Imperioli in `The Sopranos'. They definitely got the Guido look. Make you look like a Jersey hit man." "Bastard," I said and swatted him with the hat. "Leave my nose alone. It ain't that big. Besides, Imperioli doesn't have a chin." I stood back and looked at him. "You look like Moose Miller in the old Archie comics." He opened his eyes wide and crossed them, twisting his mouth in an idiot grin and yelled "Duhhhhh!" He let his tongue loll to one side of his mouth. Drool ran down the corner. Then he swatted my ass, tweaked my nose and hopped the rail over the concrete breakwater and ran for the beach. I looked at the drop from the walk to the sand and charged for the stairs to chase him. He saw me and yelled "Wuss! Wuss! Wuss!" as he ran for the water line. He had the advantage of a head start and longer legs, but I was a runner so I caught up to him pretty quickly. It was low tide, so we fell into step walking along the wet hard pack near the water's edge for easier traction. We walked along quietly, occasionally bumping each other like a pair of little kids. When Jamie hip checked it was enough to send me flying, but he took it easy after the first few times and we both laughed. Every now and then he just put a hand on my shoulder as we talked about not much of anything, just enjoying the warmth of the sun on our faces and the feel of the cool ocean breeze wafting around us. We didn't get too close to the water line, but our trainers got wet and neither of us cared. I pulled the

legs of my sweat pants up to keep them from getting too damp. Every now and then he put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. We both knew we wanted to walk with an arm around the other, but we both knew we didn't want to start a shit storm. It may have been the end of the season and there weren't many people on the sand, but there were enough. We passed a few mixed couples walking along like us. Two couples passed within a few feet and one guy looked like he was going to say something, but took a look at Jamie and decided to shut up. They were almost out of earshot when we heard the girls giggle and the word "fags". Jamie tensed, but I grabbed his wrist. "Forget it, babe. They don't matter." He relaxed. "It does matter," he said quietly. I wasn't sure of the tone of his voice... whether it was hurt or anger that I heard there. Maybe both. I needed a diversion. "TAG! You're It!" I shouted and gave him a light kick with my foot on his backside and began sprinting down the beach. It was a different story this time; without his leap from the side walk and his head start Jamie didn't have a chance, even with those long legs of his. Jamie could run. But he only knew to pour it on for short distances. On the other hand, I knew how to pace myself. When he began to falter I'd slow down or turn back and dance around him. He'd grab at me but all he did was wind up falling on his face and getting himself soaked and caked with mud from the ebb tide beach. I let him catch up to me when we finally made it to the Black Rocks, an artificial barrier that helped keep the waters near the beach a bit calmer from the cross currents of the tides. When he was almost there, I scrambled up and over the rocks with him in pursuit. I taunted him to keep him moving. Then I scrambled into an opening between the rocks that led down to a small tidal pool. You couldn't see the opening from the shore; I had climbed this way a thousand times when my parents took my sister and me to the beach. He scrambled down and grabbed me. "Now, YOU'RE It!" he shouted laughing and gave me a light smack on the back. Well, light for him anyway. I went sprawling and he sat on my chest, pinning me down by the edge of the water. "Nope. This is Home. I get to call it `cuz I started the game. You lose and you gotta pay the price." He let my shoulders go and rolled off, making a big deal sigh. "Ok, runt. What's the price?" I reached over and grabbed him by the sweatshirt and pulled him down to my level and planted a big juicy kiss on him. "Some price," he said smiling when we finished. "That's a down payment," I said with a mock sneer. "You'll find out the real cost tonight!" He nipped my nose. "Don't think I'll mind. My wallet's pretty full." "I wasn't thinking of your big wallet," and I rubbed him where the true price would be paid. "That's pretty full, too." We kissed again, and played a little tongue hockey until I finally started to squirm because the water had seeped through my sweat pants. When we got up I slipped out of them. My shorts were soaked through too but they stood a better chance of drying without the heavier cotton sweats. Jamie was standing there laughing at me. "Dude, you look like a five year old in your daddy's sweatshirt and nothing else. All I can see is that thing hanging to your knees and your head. Oh, and that beak of yours too." "You wish it hung to my knees. And leave my nose alone." "Pervert. All you ever think of is sex." "Bullshit. Sometimes I think of food, too. I'm getting hungry. We can get some lunch soon?" He rubbed a hand over my shoulders. "Yup yup, pretty soon. Let's check out the rocks, I haven't been here in years!" We spent quite a bit of time just climbing along, checking out the small tidal

pools, and watching the crabs burrow into the sand when we stirred the water. We saw a few starfish and sand dollars. The damn gulls were everywhere. They were getting impossible now that they were protected by the state. Ballsier too. No longer satisfied with stealing the scraps from beach goers, they were now swooping down on anything that registered as food, no matter how close people were. And they were mean. You couldn't just shoo them away anymore. Some people said it was like they were doing a re-make of The Birds. My father said they weren't much better than pigeons, which he classed as rats with wings. These were just white rats. They scavenged anything they could wrestle down their throats. I went to pee and Jamie told me to be careful or I might lose a little something when a couple gulls landed close to me. I didn't dignify the remark with an answer, just sent a little of the stream in his direction. "Ok, smart ass. If you want a sword fight we can do that tonight. Excalibur vs. the Jackknife," he said grinning. We were close to the end of the point and we just sat, looking out over the ocean. We'd have to head back soon since the tide was beginning to come in and soon this part of the rock barrier would be under water. But we just sat, looking out over the water and listening to the surf. Jamie slipped an arm around my waist, and I leaned into him. I felt his chin on the top of my head. He moved a little and I couldn't feel it because of the hat but I know he brushed me with his lips. I snuggled a little closer. We felt the warm sun on our backs and the cool breeze in our faces. Eventually the combination of sitting on cold damp rocks, salt spray and wet pants started to get to me and I began to shiver. "Guess we should get back," he said. "We stay here much longer you'll be turning blue." We began the long trek back along the rock barrier. It was more difficult this far out - the builders had known the rocks would be a magnet to kids, and the tops were flattened closer to the shore. When these barriers were built adults had a more hands-off attitude about things. Technically we weren't even supposed to be out here, and if this were high season in Hampton we would have been told to get off by a beach cop or lifeguard long before we got to the mid-point. They were gone for the season now, so we had been able to make our little trek. Funny, the return leg of a trip is always slower than the journey out. By the time we made it half way back and the rocks flattened out again, both of us were tired. We clambered down close to where we started and looked up the coastline. The surf was beginning to pound in and neither one of us wanted to get any wetter or colder, or negotiate the soft sand above the water line. We headed for the ramp that would lead up to the sidewalk of Ocean Blvd. The breeze from the water was a little gentler here and we had a better chance of drying off. Foot traffic was light, even for a beautiful October day. Again we passed more mixed couples. Some watched us; most paid no attention as we walked side by side. There was a slow stream of traffic along 1-A. We crossed the highway to get a little more protection from the wind. We were way up the Boulevard, beyond the shops and arcades. Cottages were tucked in here but nicer than in Salisbury. They were close but not roof-line-to-roof-line the way they were in Salisbury. Most had the mark of seasonal rentals; the paint was peeling (something that happens fast this close to the water) and the small yards were messy and unkempt. Cheap shades hung pulled tight in the windows. But here and there you spotted a year-round resident. The houses were sided. Gardens were tended, and sometimes a brave soul even managed to keep a lawn this close to the shore. Torn shades gave way to mini blinds, and sometimes they were open and you could see the hint of nice, well kept homes. The closer you got to the business area these gave way to rentals and homes converted into retail. Here and there you could see the remnants of the old summer hotels, but instead of the suites my grandmother talked about from time to time you knew that these were Guest Houses packed with

beds and short-term holiday trippers. Finally we came to the real business area and the food stands started to sprout. Most were boarded up for the winter but we still managed to find one open and we got a couple of hot sandwiches. Jamie groused about having to drink a soda but the only alternative was either grape juice or V-8 and that interested him even less. We were sitting on a bench facing the road when this new, silver Chrysler convertible drove by and we heard the breaks screech. The driver turned the car around in the middle of 1-A and headed back towards us. We could make out four people in the car, two guys and two girls, but that was all we were sure of. "Fuckin' homos!" someone yelled and something white was thrown. The car left rubber getting away. It would've hit me in the face but Jamie grabbed it out of the air just before it struck. No worry though, it was just cloth, a tee shirt in fact. Jamie spread it out and his face was hard as a rock, his eyes slits. I looked, and didn't believe. It was a stenciled shirt. There was a knock-off of the Trix rabbit swinging a club, smashing a pink bowl filled with rainbow colored triangles. I read the logo: `Silly faggot! Dix are for Chix!' "It's those jerks from the beach," Jamie said quietly. "It doesn't matter, Jamie." "Hell it doesn't. I know one of those guys," he said in a low voice. I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't look like anyone from school. Is he from Haverhill? What's his name?" "It's the one who called us fags, the one who gave us that look when we were walking along the beach. No idea what his name really is. I called him Jack but he thought mine was Rob." He looked at me, then at the ground. "I never said anything, but you know that wasn't my first trip to Rte. 3, didn't you?" I always figured it wasn't, but never brought it up. Jamie was no angel, and I knew why I went there the night we met. If things had been very different, I might have gone there again, who knows? The motives didn't matter, so long as neither of us was going there anymore. "I met Jack there early last summer. I recognized him on the beach and I recognized that car." I nodded. "Just a one-way thing while his girlfriend was gone?" He made a face. "It was one-way alright, but that was his choice and he was the one doing all the work. I had no clue about the girlfriend. I met him there twice and both times were the same. We'd drive off somewhere else and he'd jump in my car and tell me to lean back." I shook my head. "That makes no sense." He shrugged, looking out to the sea across the highway. "We do it all the time, Chris. Just not as mean. We play the straight game at school. You never had a `cover date'? I've seen you at school things with Maria Callahan." "Maria and I've been friends since kindergarten. She lives right down the street from me." "Yeah, but she doesn't go to Haverhill High, and you let other people think the two of you go out sometimes to take the heat off. Plus, she likes going out with a nice lookin' guy who doesn't try getting her bra strap off all night. Just like Karen likes gay guys too - she can be out with good looking men who don't grab." There was no sense in denying it. I did exactly that with Maria. "OK, but I don't run around making life miserable for someone else like this Jack. And you don't even do showcase dates, or if you do I never saw you." He leaned back on the bench and took a large bite of his roast beef, chewed and swallowed before drinking his root beer. "I did, for awhile. But then I figured why bother, why lead some girl on. Same time, I didn't come out either. I didn't want the hassle. Plus if I met someone at school, I didn't want them to get hassled. Ever think what your life would be like if everyone knew about me?" I had. "It's like Paul said, no one was gonna get on my case, or touch anyone I

was going with... as long as I was there. But we both know I can't always be around. I'm not putting you down, Chris, but it wouldn't take much to kick the hell out of you, and we both know guys in that school who'd do exactly that. I never made fag jokes but I never stopped anyone from making them. I just hid out and played it safe. Jack's doing the same thing, hiding out. He's just taking it to a different level so no one knows. And he's making sure no one guesses." ***** Jamie was silent for a long time as we walked up the business side of Ocean Blvd., listening to the surf as it made its way closer and closer. There was no chance of its making its way to the storm barricades, but when we looked back at the stone reef we could see that the point where we had sat not long before was under water. A lot of the shops were closed for the season already but a few were still open. Most were loaded with junk, everyone just about sold tee shirts celebrating Hampton Beach, New Hampshire. There were a lot of other novelty tee shirts in there too. I bought one that read, `Your village called. Their idiot is missing.' Jamie scored one that read `Absolutä Asshole: Just add vodka.' For some reason Jamie hung onto the tee shirt Jack had thrown at us, stuffing it in his back pocket. We stopped in at the arcade that makes up the ground level of the Hampton Beach Casino. To Jamie it was a wonderland of old fashioned pinball machines and we spent a good half-hour on one. I was never any good at these but Jamie was an expert. He pulled away reluctantly with God knew how many free games chalked up on it. Two kids of about 13 jumped at it when he gave them the games. I laughed when they called him `Mister' when they thanked him. One asked me how much older my big brother was. The kid was a little taller than me. For kicks we played at some of the old ski ball alleys and both of us scored tickets each game. Last time I played they were a quarter, now they were a half-buck a game. We checked the prizes, and if we could chalk up another hundred points we could get an imitation brass table lighter shaped like an old dueling pistol. Jamie estimated at the rate we were going it would only be another fifty bucks. The kids were still playing pinball on the machine and Jamie slipped them the tickets as we passed. I could have been wrong but one of them seemed to be checking Jamie out pretty carefully as we passed, and gave Jamie a big smile. His friend concentrated on the pinball. "He's starting young," I said when I saw Jamie smiling. The boy had been a blip on both our gaydar arrays. "Like you never used to look?" "I looked, just hadn't figured out why yet. I know that smile. He's figured it out. Bet you're on his mind at lights out tonight." He swatted the back of my head and I laughed at him. Vicky was only a short walk from the Casino and we hopped in, agreeing to head back to Paul's condo, and to pick up some things on the way back. We turned down a side street and came back onto Ocean Blvd and aimed for the drawbridge again, took a right shortly after onto one of the side roads that lead away from the shore. Jamie took us on a brief tour of some back roads I would never know and we found ourselves at a small plaza that featured a restaurant, video store, a small market and an Ace Hardware. I saw his eyes brighten when we circled the lot and saw a silver gray Chrysler convertible, parked across two spaces. The top was up, but Jamie had seen that car often enough or so he thought. Jack's car. It was blocked from the front by two vans, and had two big SUVs on either side. He sent me on to Kip's Video claiming he had to get something at the hardware store. I thought maybe it was something I had damaged in the kitchen so I didn't push for details. Kip's looked pretty well stocked, and I was browsing through the latest releases but I didn't see anything. There was a guy at the counter with a tag that read `Kip' so using my brain I figured him for the owner. My height, which is always a plus for someone with me. Not skinny like me, but not fat by any means. Nice

deep brown hair. When he looked up I could see he wore a neat little pair of roundish glasses. For some reason I thought of the pictures I'd seen of the character on those kid's books... Harry Potter. I continued browsing, and noticed a door at the rear marked "Adults Only: 21 or over." I was considering giving it a try when Kip/Harry just looked up at me over his glasses and shook his head firmly. Damn. The law says I'm an adult; I can get a credit card, vote, or buy my own car. It also won't let me buy a beer or even rent a porn vid. I went back to checking titles when I heard the door open and Jamie came in. "Hi Kip!" "Jamie! Hey, Paul said you might be in this weekend. Said I should just let you take out anything and use his account number." "Yup, he said. I'm here with a friend for the weekend-over there." He pointed to me. Kip looked us both over and smiled. Gaydar again. "I think I got some stuff you guys will like," he said and signaled Jamie to follow him. He got to a section called Adult Theme Drama and picked off three videos and handed them to us. "I'm pretty sure you boys'll enjoy these." I looked at the titles. Oh yeah, he had Gaydar all right: Beautiful Thing, Get Real, and Torch Song Trilogy. I had seen them all at different times at Blockbuster and Sun Video, but I also knew the kids behind the counters at those places and didn't have the nerve to pick them up. Jamie raised his eyebrows and saw the eager look on my face. "I've seen Torch Song before but it's pretty good. We'll do it, ok C?" I nodded, turning red but still smiling. Kip led us back to the front counter, scanned the tapes after pulling up Paul's account on his computer screen and handed us our change. "Be back tomorrow," Jamie said as we left. Outside in the parking lot I could hear Jamie humming. I didn't know what finally got him in a good mood, but I didn't question it. He got into the car and pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it onto the dashboard. "What's with those?" I asked. "Needed a pair. Bought `em at the hardware store." "Jamie, there's a pair of those at your brother's house. You used them yesterday." "Needle nose pliers have a lot of uses, Chris. Besides, I had to get these, didn't I?" He dropped four small metal things in my hand; each had a flattened top. I looked at them, no idea what they were for. Just then he wheeled past the silver Chrysler. Jack and his friends were standing around the car, staring at it. "Jesus, he's got two flats," I said. "Four, actually. The tires are missing their valve stems, I think." He pointed with his chin to my hand. "Those are valve stems, by the way." I sat back and laughed. "They'll need a flat bed truck to haul that thing away," I said. "Expensive. Too bad they'll never know who did it." He beeped and waved at them as we sped off, giving them this big smarmy smirk. Jack stood staring, a cell phone half way to his face. He knew the car. "They'll figure it out. Assumin' they ever get that fuckin' tee shirt out of the exhaust in one piece." ***** We got back to the condo and settled in. Jamie took a nap. I promised not to cook and watched some television. About five he came down and we threw some frozen French bread pizzas in the oven. Or at least Jamie did, I wasn't allowed to touch anything in the kitchen other than the sink tap and the refrigerator. Once they were done we settled in on the couch together and Jamie lay with his head in my lap like we did that first afternoon at my house. His legs still hung over the arms of the sofa. Beautiful Thing was first, and it was. Get Real wasn't all that real but we had fun watching it. I started to make a crack about "cottaging" but when I started Jamie never moved his head just said "Rest stop,"

and I shut my mouth. I loved the scene when the boys are at the dance, wrapped around their dates, and realize they are staring at each other. It flashed through my mind that I really wanted to dance with Jamie one day. A slow one, yeah, but other dances too. Torch Song made me laugh, then cry, and then feel an inner peace. Maybe Stan and Todd were not our destinies after all. It was near midnight when we went to bed. No sex, we just cuddled. Sun and surf is the best sleeping aid there is. I woke before Jamie as usual, and again as usual found myself on the opposite side of the bed from where I started, clinging to the edge. Jamie was sprawled everywhere and was hogging most of the blankets, too. For a minute I debated waking him up in an unusual way, but then decided I would wait until Monday morning. That way he could start the school week real relaxed and comfortable. I put on plenty of coffee for both, but limited breakfast to my normal toast, standing watch over both appliances the whole time. There was a new fire extinguisher standing by just in case. I wasn't about to risk another near-divorce because of a kitchen disaster. When my toast was ready and my coffee lightened, I settled in at the dining room table and picked up my book bag. I was way ahead in my readings, that was not a problem, and I had several papers near completion way ahead of the dead lines, but the work was sitting in my computer at home and backed up on floppies. But I did have some things to work out in calculus (easily my least favorite subject) and went quietly to work on them. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Jamie moving about. He came down and saw me working and said nothing, just got himself a quick cup of coffee. He was in shorts again and a sweatshirt, much like yesterday. I was aware of him moving about. Once I looked up and he was just standing there with his coffee and smiling, then I saw him gathering up the vids and quietly slip out the door. At some point he came back and I saw him gather his own book bag and head up the stairs. I was sure he was in Paul Cayman's smaller front bedroom, where he had his computer set up. Jamie was working on some of his own things and had all his information on floppies. Paul had the necessary software Jamie needed, since Jamie had set up his brother's computer. About the time I finished up my own work, I heard the clatter of the small Epson printer working away upstairs. Paul had an old, cheap Epson 640, same as I did. They were slow and noisy, but they got the job done given enough time. Jamie came down the stairs about the same time I finished up my calculus assignment. "I really can help you with that stuff," he said, sliding an arm around my chest and nuzzling my neck. "'S ok. Only way I'll ever get the hang of it is doing it myself. So, what's up today?" "Nice lunch in Newburyport, I figure. There's this really nice restaurant there; Paul took me a couple times last summer. If we're lucky and the weather holds we might get a chance to sit in the outdoor courtyard." "Showers first, though. And I heard there was a fresh water alert," I said with a small smile. "Guess we better double up in the shower. Can't waste water, you know." "Just what I was thinking," I said, closing up my text and taking him by the arm as we headed for the stairs. ***** Newburyport is everything Hampton and Salisbury wished they could be. A dead fishing town, its brick buildings had lain empty for decades, becoming the haven for derelicts and rats. Offices of defunct shipping and fishing companies had been flophouses. Its center square village became as deserted as that of any tired, worn out city along the banks of the Merrimack River, not much different from my Haverhill or its sisters further north and west like Lawrence or Lowell. Filled with cheap bars, hookers, hustlers and drug sellers, it lay all but

abandoned throughout the sixties and seventies. In the eighties its leaders looked around and started over. The town square today is filled with shops and restaurants living off the bounty of the tourist and day-tripper. Its small harbor, once filled with busy merchant freighters and fishing boats, lends itself to view as a busy private marina where the wealthy north of Boston store the sail boats and motor launches that seldom venture from their moorings, but in the evening serve as floating bars and party barges. It was a cooler day and I had learned my lesson. I dressed in white cargo pants and a long sleeved maroon shirt. Jamie was in what I had begun to think of as his trademark button front jeans (and those buttons strained oh! So nicely) and a long sleeved Rugby shirt in black and green. We both wore white sneakers-- my size 8 1/2 Nike's, Jamie size 13 (triple wide) New Balance. I completed my look with the hit-man sunglasses doing my Michael Imperioli impersonation (and still thinking young Tom Cruise) while Jamie continued his Terminator look. He was reaching over to tap my nose when I said simply "Planning on dating your hand again?" and he thought twice. Parking was easy, even though the town was busy. Newburyport doesn't depend on the sun and sand for its attractions; Newburyport depends on fat wallets and the public's hunger for collecting junk. We began at the flea market, one of the few buildings near the town square that didn't quite fit in with the local building code, but who's presence was suffered since it was a money maker. Part old barn, part cinder block, add in the chaos of a `50's Quonset hut and a yard filled with rusting junk, the market boasts everything from true antiques worth thousands to convenience store junk. You could find treasures or trash sitting side by side. Everything was cash and carry. Jamie loved it, and took his time pouring over books so old the pages were falling out of their leather bindings, statuettes that almost looked like Dresden ware, tacky wall prints in the art deco of the twenties and the Chinese Modern of the fifties. Lava lamps were well represented in a display of seventies junk that was topped off by a poster for some movie called Saturday Night Fever with the picture of this really hot looking guy in an ugly white suit with big lapels. He filled the pants nicely, even if they did look to be spray painted on. It was amazing what some people will do to themselves to look stylish, I thought. Then I hiked up my underwear to just below my navel and pushed my pants down lower around my hips, so the cuffs would drag on the ground just the right way. From there we moved up to the junk shops and galleries, and Jamie again pawed through everything. I drew the line at the candle shop; the second we passed through the door my sinuses closed solid from the perfumes. If I stayed more than a few minutes I'd have a headache for the rest of the day. He wanted a few things to take back to his mother. She loved scented candles. I waited outside, leaning against the window, checking out the boys as they passed behind the safety of my sunglasses. Nice view, too. Sunglasses must have been invented by a gay man to check out the crowds in relative safety. I was eyeing a very hot looking guy with short spiked hair across the road. Cute, definitely; but his face was locked up in this scowl that seemed to look natural on him, and I detected just a touch of attitude when I read his tee shirt: `What part of NO don't you understand?' There was something slightly familiar about him, but I couldn't place it. He was at least a couple years older than me, so maybe he had been ahead of me at school. He was checking me out too I realized, and openly. Just for laughs I smiled and he smiled back, and his eyes went up and down my body and the scowl softened almost into a smile. It never fails, does it? When I was searching everywhere for a guy, I couldn't find anyone who would look twice. Now I had someone and a cutie like this wants to move in and claim the territory He pushed off the wall and looked back into the store behind him, and I think he was going to cross over when another figure came out and called to him, taking

him by the arm. Dave. Dave was with my cruiser. And he was turning my way to see what the hunk was looking at and"CHRIS!" Dave grabbed the guy's arm, and the two of them were wading through the pedestrians and the traffic and headed for me. Dave was all smiles, like always. The hunk didn't like being grabbed or pulled along by the look of the scowl that had returned. But his eyes were back on me and his almost-smile looked to be coming back when he got a closer look at me. He had great sideburns, and the stubble on his face made me wonder for a moment how they would feel on the inside of my thighs... Dave was bubbling over. "Great move yesterday, jerk. Thanks to you I had to work a shift with Prendegast last night." "Oh gimme a break! You knew I was off for the weekend!" "Yeah, but I didn't expect to have to close with the boss and Wynona. One or the other I can deal with, but both? She spent the night with her nose buried up his butt anyway so at least she wasn't on my case. Hey, this is a friend of mine, Jerry." Jerry held out his hand and as we shook he smiled again and his eyes wandered over my body. His grip was almost a caress on my hand. Oh, man, to be free... "This is Chris St. Jacques, we work together at Borders. So you down here with Jay?" "Yup. He's checking out the candles in there," I said jerking my thumb back at The Chandler Shoppe. "You know me with perfumes and stuff." "Tell me about it. I still remember you almost passing out that time at Filenes' when some idiot doused you with cologne. You guys have a good weekend? Hey! Jamie!" I turned and there he was, clutching a bag full of candles. His face brightened when he saw Dave, but it froze when he saw his companion. Jerry's smile slipped away, and while he didn't exactly return to his earlier scowl, he didn't look pleased. "Hello, Jeremy." Jamie didn't sound any more pleased than Jerry-Jeremy-looked. Jamie's lips were pressed thin, and there were small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Jamie only gets that little squint when he's pissed at something. I looked at the `ex' and he looked at me. We saw each other in a whole new light now. Never mind a few minutes before we looked each other over carefully and liked what we saw. I imagine Jeremy was asking himself the same question I was, "Now, what did Jamie see in him?" Dave missed it all of course. "Kewl, you guys know each other! Hey, we were going to Ciro's for lunch. How about you guys joining us?" "Sorry, Dave. Chris and I just ate." Actually we hadn't, and Ciro's was where we were supposed to eat; Jamie had pointed it out earlier when we walked by. To make it worse, my stomach started to rumble and the truth was it was ready to crawl to the restaurant all by itself. "Another time then," Jeremy said in his nasal voice. "Yeah. Another time, Jeremy." The ice in Jamie's voice froze the air between them. Dave's face betrayed what was running through his mind, and he caught on quickly that it was time to leave. "Well, sure. See you guys in school tomorrow." Then to me, "Looks like you and me should have a long talk." We split in different directions, and I was anxious to get out of earshot. "There's another place we can go for lunch. Not as nice, but a healthier atmosphere." "What's going on between you two?" He sighed. "Don't go there, Chris." "That was your old boyfriend, right? The one I saw in the picture in your

bedroom?" There was a short silence, and Jamie was biting down on his lower lip. "Yeah, that's the same Jeremy. I don't know if you could call us boyfriends, but we were seeing each other for awhile." I thought about Dave and Jeremy together. "So you think Dave's... you know. I mean, he and Jeremy might be just friends." His mood hadn't improved much. "One thing about Jeremy--he doesn't have friends. He has future business contacts and fuck buddies." I snorted. Dave wanted to study Marine Biology. That didn't leave much doubt about their relationship. "It's not funny, Chris. Dave's gonna be in for some hurt." Sight seeing got cut short and we picked up the car and found a place for lunch. It was more like one of those old fashioned diners you see in movies rather than the garden I was promised, but by that point all I cared about was shoving some food down my throat that didn't come out of a micro-wave package. It was a good dinner anyway, and Jamie's mood improved by the end of it. I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask him about Jeremy, but it was a killer knowing I would never be able to ask them. I was also worried about David. Jamie didn't hold grudges, but for Jeremy he was making an exception. We were back in the car when Jamie looked at me with a leer. "So, ready for the three-way tonight?" What had I missed here? "You know. Just you, me and Johan..." ***** It was a little after 10pm when Jamie and I left the Emergency Room at Anna Jacques Hospital in Amesbury, the only hospital Jamie knew how to get to down along the coast. He faced ahead, with his eyes riveted to the ground. I also faced forward but looked straight ahead. Jamie's expression could best be described as `sheepish.' Mine could best be described as... miffed. Nice word, miffed. Miffed is a nice way of saying PISSED OFF TO THE MAX. Back in the Emergency Room was an old man who claimed he had heard some mysterious buzzing sound after he sat next to me, two giggling nurses, and a resident who had learned something new in the practice of ER medicine. They had presented Jamie with a small white plastic bag. We got to the lot marked "ER Admissions" and Jamie opened my door and I slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door as hard as I could. I didn't bother to reach over and unlock his side, and he fumbled with the keys and eventually opened the door and slid in next to me. He placed a small white bag on the bench seat between us. "You realize all three of them'll be telling this story at their retirement dinners, of course." Jamie didn't say anything, and I was afraid if I looked I'd see the corners of his lips pulling up in a smile. If I saw that I really would kill him. I looked at him anyway, and sure enough he was trying to hide a smile. "Did you have to tell them everything we did?" Jamie shrugged. "Well, they had to know..." he began. "How did the doctor get it out?" "Shut up." I had a flashback of the cute resident pulling on a pair of latex gloves and trying not to laugh when he said it might hurt a little. There was a short silence. "You could have waited, babe. I mean it could have just, you know, worked its way out." "Waited for what? Two hours on the john wasn't enough? Jesus, how am I gonna explain this when the insurance company sends the forms to my parents. At least they left it as `emergency extraction' on the claim forms. Thank God I'm 18 and they didn't need parental consent." We drove in heavy silence, headed back to the condo in Seabrook. It was a good fifteen minutes before Jamie spoke again. "You know babe, I could put a safety

grip on it for next time. You know, like a flange at the base so it doesn't slide-" I reached down and picked up the white plastic bag, rolled down the window, and tossed `Johan Paulick' into the gutter. "Next time? There is never gonna be a next time."

Chapter 6

"True Lies"

Monday. I was sore, a little irritated emotionally and very irritated physically. Jamie stayed very quiet on Sunday night, and was just as quiet Monday morning on the drive back from Seabrook. Fortunately we weren't in the same homeroom, so we had some time apart. On the other hand, Dave was in my homeroom, and when he saw the way I was walking he started to snicker. I knew what the pervert was thinking, but when I gave him a warning glance all he did was giggle more. I don't know what people who saw us thought but I knew what I was thinking then, and if Dave had known he would have gotten busy doing something else. "So... did you and big Jay have some fun last night?" I glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about." He leaned in confidentially. "C'mon Chris. Jeremy told me about the little game you and him were playing when I was in the store, and he told me about Jamie, too. Plus I've been watching you guys for months now, and I know what's been goin' on. Let's cough up and say it, okay? I'll start. I'm gay, and I know you and Jamie are, too. Plus, you guys are a couple. Okay? We done playin' the games about it?" I looked around the homeroom, and David and I were safely off to the side. It was still early and there were only a few others there, on the far side of the room. I was starting to wonder if someone had sewn an invisible pink triangle on my clothes. Everyone had me pegged these days, starting with Karen and on to the guy who ran Kip's Video and some asshole named Jack on a half-deserted beach. Did I suddenly lisp or have a limp wrist or something? David leaned back in his chair, drilling me with those deep brown eyes of his. His look softened, and he glanced around carefully as more people began to filter into the room. "Look, maybe we ought to talk about this more later. Instead of doing lunch in the caf, why don't we head outside where we can talk free? I'm brown baggin' today, and I've got enough for us both. As for me suddenly figuring it all out, I didn't for sure until Jeremy told me about him and Jamie. I'd suspected maybe you guys had something going on, but that was it. Before that, I just wished you were." I was going to say something about that until a few other bleary eyed seniors silently cursing Monday drifted into the room, and sat a little too close for plain speaking. Dave casually opened up one of his texts and began skimming, but I noticed his eyes drifted off to me now and then. I opened a notebook and made a show of reviewing my calculus homework, but my mind was anywhere but on calculus. Had I heard right? Had David Sciuoto just told me that he wished I was gay? I looked at him from the side. David was one of the few guys I had ever seen you could easily call beautiful. Jamie was a drop-dead hunk, I was about average, but Dave was beautiful. I'm not sure how to describe him exactly without sounding stupid. Do I say he had the face of an Apollo? Well, I don't know what Apollo looked like. Maybe that he had a nose that Michael Jackson would've

dropped cash for if he wasn't determined to look like Diana Ross? The only way I can say it is that he had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, just like everyone else. But it was all the angles and planes that go into making the features work together that was different. These angles and planes, together with the subtle curves and valleys that go to composing flesh into a visual were just right in every way. Cap it off with black hair that actually reflected light, and a pair of deep brown eyes that were almost as dark as his hair, and you had something. These were eyes that could penetrate to the soul in one instant, then put you in utter ease the next. Top the eyes with incredibly long lashes and you get the picture... or maybe the idea of it, I don't know. I'm just not that good at describing things. I tried to think back to our junior high days. Had David ever even had a zit? There was more too - a beauty that didn't show. David never seemed conscious of the effect he had on people, or used his looks to get his way. People maneuvered to get close to him. Male or female, David Sciuoto could have picked his partner from any of the kids at school, and he had just told me he had wished I was gay. Me. The summer before I would have been dancing on a cloud if I had known that; today, it just made me nervous. Jamie was very much a fact of my life, and he was going to stay that way. If Dave told me he wanted us to be more than friends, we were going to have a problem. Homeroom ended, and Dave waved and hustled out the door; he had to make it to the third floor, and we were on the first. I made it half-way to my first real class of the day when Jamie met up with me in the hall. The first thing I did was apologize to him for being such a dick all last night and this morning on the drive back. He clapped me on the back so hard my books went flying, and I just shook my head as the two of us scrambled to pick them up with people parading all around us. We made it into Miss Crowley's English class with only seconds to spare, which was a good thing because the teacher was a flaming bitch about punctuality. We got to our usual seats and I caught sight of Jamie sitting off to my left, just like always. Then we settled in for a nap, because in addition to being a monster about the clock, Miss Crowley was also a screaming bore. Jamie and I split up after that. I had history, followed by chemistry lab and that would take me all the way to lunch and my session with Dave. My lab partner was Maureen, and she liked to take the lead. I was more than happy to just be the recorder, since I was about as at-home in a chemistry lab as I was in a kitchen. She happily mixed and measured and heated while I stood by with a timer and a pen, writing it all down. Maureen would also take the lead in writing the report, all I'd have to do was clean up the language, type it up and send it through the printer with the right graphs and whatever else she came up with to support her "findings". Maureen had pretty much pegged me as dead weight long ago, but as long as I was willing to do the clerical grunt work, she was happy. She'd also mentioned more than once that it was nice to work with a guy who wasn't staring at her tits all the time. Did I mention Maureen had great tits? She did. She knew it, and so did every straight boy in the class. Hell, even I noticed, though I didn't really care. The bell went off, and as usual Maureen and I were already broken down and ready to leave while others raced to complete the assignment or just plain gave up in frustration. I wouldn't really know what the hell we just "proved" until Maureen slipped me her notes and the roughest draft of what we had done. Maureen couldn't write a sentence worth a damn and she knew it, which is why we have been pooling our talents since junior high. Maureen was the science queen, and I was good at shoveling the bullsh - - er, I mean, "writing it up." Jamie was waiting in the hall and crunched my shoulder like always. Maureen just smiled and gave us a wink. She liked Jamie, just like all the other girls, but had thrown in the towel thinking him hopeless years ago. That wink and smile made me wonder if she maybe picked up on something else, too. If she had, she

obviously didn't care to make any comments, and I was good with that. Jamie had a different lunch than me, so we separated at the main stairwell and he went off to his Advanced French. I'd see him again in the afternoon for our last two periods, plus our 'chance' meetings in the hall. I headed down to the parking lot exit rather than the dining room and saw Dave waiting. We'd taken a lunch for private discussions before but that was school stuff. The picnic tables outside were as likely to have too many extra ears around as the dining hall, and today's discussion was going to be a tad sensitive. We'd chow in his car, a little black Jetta. Hell, his car was so new it didn't have any rust on it yet, which put him at the head of the pack in our school. It was also meticulously clean inside, a reason we never ate in my Tercel. I wash the windshield when I just can't see anymore, and regard the passenger seat as the most convenient of trash cans. Dave broke out the food, and there was easily enough to feed four. "My Gran's up from New York," he said when I stared at all the food. "She's typical Italian grandmother. She takes one look at me and goes 'Mangia, EAT! Too skee-ney.' She won't be satisfied until I look like my Uncle Louie - 275 lbs and 5'6'." "What's your dad like?" I asked, as I unwrapped a sandwich. "Tall and thin - 5'7" and 250," he said, taking a bite. "Damn, I do not want their asses, thank you." I tried to picture a blimped-out Dave, but didn't want to go there. Important things were on my mind, and since the gay card had been played, it didn't matter. "You got a great ass," I said. "Even Jamie thinks you got the hottest ass in school." Dave grinned. "Now you tell me that you been checkin' out my ass! I've been sticking it in your face all summer and never got a reaction. For awhile, I was starting to think you really were straight." I fell silent for a moment, and we both sensed that the subject was going to be a little more sensitive. "You said something back in Homeroom, Dave. You said you wished I was gay." We both let it hang there, and he shifted a little uncomfortably. Then he just shrugged and gave me an oh-well look. "Might as well get it out in the open. I always thought you were cute, Chris. Plus I just plain liked you. Maybe it's because of that wise mouth of yours - it's like a razor slicing the air, and I want to duck when you get going. You say all the stuff I think sometimes, and that's what I like. You don't hold back." I was turning a little red, and he gave me that dazzler smile of his. "This is weird," he said, shaking his head and looking away, almost embarrassed. "Dave, are you telling me you have a crush on me?" I asked. "NO!" He said it with such force it was almost a slap in the face. "That didn't come out right," he quickly added. "I'm sorry. Yeah, in a way I do have a crush on you - but not the way you think. I know you and Jamie are a couple, and I'm not about to do anything to screw that up. I mean, if you came on to me last summer, I'd have run with it and never even thought twice. But I can see you guys have got something pretty good together, and I don't want to be a wedge or anything like that." He bit into an apple, and sat there looking thoughtful. Then he fixed directly on me. "Would you say we're friends, Chris?" I shrugged. "Well, yeah. I've known you since middle school, and we've always been pretty good with each other." "And two minutes ago I had to describe my father to you. You've never met him or any of my family. Do you even know where I live?" I started to squirm a little as I thought about it. "No." "I know where you live, though. But only because I used to pass your house on the way to my piano lesson and see you in the yard." "I didn't know you played piano."

"I don't anymore. I stopped when I was about fourteen. I kind of turned away from a lot of things when I was fourteen..." He trailed off, and I saw a sad, worried look pass over his face. Without thinking I reached out and just touched his hand, more to bring him back from the strange, distant place he had gone to, but when I touched him he drew back like I passed him an electric current. I saw a sudden furtive look, and anger. Then it was gone, and Dave had this tired smile. "Sorry about that," he said. "I'm - sometimes when people touch me unexpectedly, I act kinda funny. Nothing personal, Chris... I just wasn't expecting it." "Hey, it's ok," I said. "Really, I understand." I didn't, because it wasn't like I had touched him any place a person wouldn't normally touch another, but I didn't want to put him off any more than I already had. He shook his head. "No, its not ok. It's part of my problem. It's all tied in with why I don't really have any close friends. Dammit, Chris, you're probably the closest friend I got, and you don't know shit about me. I don't... well, I don't let people get close. No one gets inside...ever." He looked at me directly now, and his eyes were almost begging me. "I just want to be friends with you, Chris. Not a lover, or a toy like I am with Jeremy. It's like I said - I always thought of you as a good friend even if we really weren't that close, just because I always liked you so much. I just never let myself get too attached or close to anyone. I'd like to be close to you. Not close like Jamie and you, but just close. Seeing you Sunday told me we had a shot at that, because we didn't have to have any walls between each other because of the gay stuff. In fact, maybe it could bring us closer." I thought of my own self-imposed isolation - the need to keep a lot of people at a distance - and understood. It's not easy thinking of yourself as the different one, and trying to hide that difference. It's damn lonely, and a loneliness born from the fear of discovery. "That's true," I said. "It'd be nice to have someone else besides Jamie to talk about stuff with, especially if I had to talk about Jamie to someone." I paused, looking at him closer, my voice softening. "Is that why you don't have any real friends? You were afraid someone might find out you were gay?" He swallowed, and rubbed his hand over his chin. It was a while before he went on. "That's part of it. Not all of it, but part of it. I guess I don't have to tell you how much tougher it is... thinking you're all alone." I shook my head. "No, you don't have to tell me about that. So... what's the other part? What's the other reason you don't let people get too close?" He reached over and took my hand, the one he had slapped away only a moment before. "Hey - a little bit at a time, ok?" He paused. "I don't really want to cut you out like that, but this is hard for me. I haven't had an open conversation with someone in... well, I don't know how long. The only one I've even talked about being gay with is Karen, and that's only because she brought it up." "Karen?" I said, astonished. "Karen knows about you being gay?" He chuckled. "Yeah, Karen. She spotted me with my eyes following you all over the store and asked me one time why the hell I didn't just ask you out." I shook my head and laughed. He cocked his head with a curious expression on his face. "What? What?" "She told me maybe I should ask you out one time," I said. "I guess she had me pegged, too. 'Cuz I was always checkin' out your ass and stuff." He grinned. "You were checkin' out my ass? Why?" "It's the best ass this side of a Kodak commercial," I said, laughing, and told him about the one I meant. He liked it. "Anyway, she said I should ask you on a date, but I told her if I did and you were straight, the word would be all over school and I'd wind up dead meat." "Pretty much the same answer I gave her. Dammit, why didn't she say anything?" "Prob'ly figured it wasn't her business to push too far - that if any one was

going to say something, it had to be one of us. Then I guess when she saw me pair off with Jamie... well, who knows." We fell silent for a few seconds, and the tension began to relax. I wondered if Karen knew the rest of David's dark secret, the part he wouldn't tell me yet... but again, she would never tell me about it unless David told her it was okay. Karen might sound like a nosy gossip, and in some ways she was, but betraying really confidential stuff was another matter all together. Well, true, there was the part of Mr. Prendegast I didn't know about, but his being gay wasn't much of a secret to anyone. His being in a relationship was, but it also wasn't like she told me who it was. When I pushed it with her, Karen had been very up-front in telling me it was none of my damn business, that I already knew more than I should and to keep my yap shut. "So, what do you think?" he asked, looking at me expectantly. "About what?" He looked a little pissed. "Jesus, you're slow. About us being friends, dumbass! Real friends - not just guys hangin' at school." I smiled. "Dave, that was carved in stone the minute you said it. I can't think of anyone else I'd like to have as a close friend." We both did a quick check of the parking lot. The coast was clear, and we leaned in to give each other a big hug. For a little guy, Dave had a grip on him almost as firm as Jamie. He looked at his watch. "That's it, Chris. Back to the grind. See you in sixth period." "Yeah, and at work tonight."

The two of us were behind the counter, peeking at the magazine and giggling like a pair of naughty kids who'd just found their father's old stash of Hustlers buried under some junk in the garage. David and I were leafing through a copy of Freshman, thinking we were pulling off the greatest thing ever. I was on the register, and Dave was supposed to be straightening up the periodicals section. It was after 9:30 and the store was closing at 10:00pm, so there was no one in the store to speak of and Dave had finished up. The other two part-timers were going through the store and straightening up the book racks and the idea was we were all out of there by 10:02 - even Karen, who was the manager on duty tonight. "What are you two up to?" Dave shoved the magazine under the counter and we both turned around real fast. Karen eyed us suspiciously. I'm sure we both looked as guilty as a thief caught red-handed with diamonds bulging in his pockets as he tumbled into the waiting arms of the cops. "Ummm... nuthin', Karen," Dave tried. She stood there, arms crossed, peering up over the frames of her glasses, slowly tapping her foot. Karen will make a good mother. "Right. Now, why don't I believe that?" "Ah, because you're not that dumb...?" I mumbled. "That's right, I'm not. And I'm not deaf, either. Step out, guys." We slid out from behind the counter and Karen stepped in, fishing underneath. She pulled out the glossy magazine and slowly began leafing though it. Both David and I were turning red. She shook her head. "Guys... all of you. Guys and their magazines. Between your two hard drives, you probably have enough pictures and vids to launch a thousand wet dreams, but you still have to look for more. What is it about guys and porn?" "A complete lack of a sense of morality or good taste," I threw in, hoping it was what she wanted to hear.

Karen rolled her eyes. "Wise-ass as always. Some day, that mouth of yours is gonna get your tail bounced out of here." She glared at both of us. "Okay, I can see the dynamic between you two has changed. You both have been as thick as thieves all night. And now I find you both checking out porn mags - and gay porn mags to boot. So, when did you two find out about each other?" I felt my face flush slightly. "This weekend," I said, sheepishly. "How?" "Well, I was on a date with Jeremy, who happened to be an ex of Jamie's, and then we ran into Jamie an' Chris." "Right. And of course we both talked to our boy - I mean our friends, so we got that out in the open and..." She held up a hand. "Okay, I get the picture. So now you two are like a couple of twelve year-olds who just found you can do more than pee with it. Well, that's fine. But get your gutter jollies without breaking out the store stock. These things are supposed to be in sealed plastic bags to keep anyone under twenty-one from doing what you two are doing, and unless my records are way out of date, neither one of you qualifies. So from now on, get your giggles on the net like all the other high school kids." She took the magazine and threw it into her drawer, and locked it. "And if I see any more scratch marks on the lock of that thing, I know who to talk to. Got it, boys? You," she said, pointing to me. "Where's Jamie tonight?" "He only had to work 'til nine, so I guess he's at home by now. He had a bunch of stuff to do so he said he wouldn't be stopping by." She nodded. Then she pulled something out of the paper section and flopped it on the counter. It was Bay Windows, the Boston area gay newspaper. Karen began leafing through it. "I saw this at a friend's house the other day. It's something I think the both of you will like." She got to a half page ad and tapped a red talon on it.It was for a club called "The Front Runner" in Manchester, New Hampshire, about thirty miles north. I'd flagged through the paper before, even stopped and visited their web site to see what was going on in the gay scene in Boston. Not that it mattered, but I just liked to see what was going on. "Okay," I said. "So Hicktown has a gay bar. Even New Hampshire has to have something going for it." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "The two of you work in a bookstore, for chrissakes, and neither of you can read. Look at it!" There was a calendar of events for the month, announcing everything from a motorcycle afternoon tea-dance on Sunday to a NH Bears meeting on alternating Tuesdays. About half way down was - "Kewl," said David. It announced an Eighteen-Plus Night for Wednesday, the seventeenth of October. A week from now. You needed an ID of course, and you would be shut out from the bar, but there would be dancing and a buffet. "Unless I'm mistaken, I read that Haverhill High faculty would be at a teacher's conference and the school would be shut down on Thursday that week. Seems to me that a couple of cute gay boys who aren't going to be scheduled for Wednesday night that week could have a pretty good time for themselves. Plus I could be sure that the stock would be safe from raging hormones." I pouted. "Jamie's still seventeen. His birthday isn't until next month." "Too damn bad. That doesn't mean you two can't go. Your birthday's this weekend, right David?" He nodded. "Sunday." "And besides, Jamie works every Wednesday no matter what. I know how Sammy schedules over there. And since its mid-week and both your parents are bound to be in the way, it's not like the two of you could get together or anything. So, what do you boys think?" I could see the gleam in David's eyes.

"I think two Haverhill Kweer Kids are gonna hit Manchester and light up the under-twenty-one scene. Talk about your hot birthday bashes!"

I argued that I shouldn't go, but Karen grabbed Jamie when he dropped by on his break a few nights later and told him what the deal was. Jamie thought it was great that I had Dave to kick back and talk with, and thought it would also be great for us to go out and have some fun together. I insisted that I should stay home Wednesday and that he should come by after work for a little visit, but he just blew me off. "Your parents'll be right upstairs, so all we could do would be to watch TV and maybe cuddle a little. Besides, we got all day Thursday we can... well, get together on... you know? Go ahead, babe - go have some fun." "You really don't mind if I go with Dave?" "Why the hell should I mind? Dave's a good guy. And you're better for him to be around than that asshole," he said. I didn't have to ask who he meant when he said "that asshole". "That asshole" was his term of endearment for Jeremy. One day I would really have to dig the dirt out on what happened between them. Maybe I could get Dave to do a little snooping for me on the Jeremy end. I even asked him if maybe he would want to go with Jeremy instead. "I'll save my breath," he told me. "Jeremy doesn't do dates." I shook my head. "What is it with Jeremy? He doesn't do friends, he doesn't do boyfriends, and he doesn't do dates. What the hell does Jeremy do?" Dave shrugged. "Stands around and looks pretty. And he is pretty, when he doesn't have that scowl on his puss." I looked at him hard. "How'd you meet Jeremy, anyway?" He shuffled uncomfortably. "Same way Jamie met him. In a chat room." "Dave, that's crazy. Meeting some guy in a chat room - Jesus, he coulda been a serial killer." Dave just dead-panned me. "And I suppose pulling into a rest area and offering myself to a total stranger is a good plan? At least I had a chance to talk to him for awhile and sound him out, and I arranged for us to meet in a very public place just in case he wasn't who he claimed to be. Beats the hell out of planting my ass on the hood of a car waiting for Mr. Right to pick me up." I turned red, and wanted to kick myself for telling Jeremy how I met Jamie. Well, actually I hadn't. I was feeding him this beautifully romantic bullshit story when Jamie just broke in and put it in plain, basic English. Dave thought the whole thing a great laugh. He really got off on the trash can thing and me leaving rubber with my Tercel. Jamie tells the truth too much. At least he knew better than to bring up the Sunday night we spent at the hospital. "So...what happened if Jeremy doesn't do dates and stuff?" Dave shrugged. "Well the first night we met, we had a little dinner and then went back to his place - so that we could 'talk' a little more free in private, you know? Well, don't ask me how but before I know it my legs are wrapped around his neck and I'm screaming 'MORE! HARDER!' just like a guy in a porno movie. Even better, a half hour later it's Jeremy's turn for the same thing. Man, does that dude like the bottom!" I looked Dave over, and tried to imagine him and Jeremy together. "I just don't see him being into that." "He loves it that way, believe me. Looks are deceiving." I pictured Jamie at Seabrook, ankles tucked up in the iron bars of Paul's bed and me in the leather outfit. "Yeah, I guess they can be..." I trailed off. He caught the expression on my face and knew there was a lot more to hear, but understood that it wasn't going to be any time real soon. "Well anyway, the next time we were supposed to go out it was the same thing - except this time I went to pick him up at his apartment and we just plain never made it out. Ditto the next time. Then that Sunday it looked to be going the same way so I just told

him - either we went out, or I go out. That's why he looked so pissy that Sunday. Bastard didn't even offer to help with the bill at Ciro's, and that place ain't cheap. After that it was back to his bedroom and he came alive again." I wrinkled my nose. "Doesn't sound like much of a relationship to me." Dave sighed. "That's the point, Chris. It isn't a relationship. With Jeremy, it's just sex and that's it. Far as he's concerned, I'm a Playstation - a joystick with two inputs." "So... I guess you won't be seeing him again." David shrugged, and I saw the sadness in his eyes. "Not everybody has someone worshiping him for three years. Maybe I'll meet someone soon, but if I don't well, it beats my right hand, y'know? I'm not deluding myself. I don't have to be in love to get laid, any more than you were looking for love the night you met Jamie." It was pretty clear David didn't want to discuss Jeremy any more, so I let it go. "Now we got to get into the important stuff. How the hell are we supposed to dress for this thing?"

Dave was sitting next to me behind the wheel of his Jetta, and we were both wondering what to do next. Strange place for a bar, I thought. Tucked way down on an obscure side street I could understand, but the club was the anchor of a fairly new but hard to find office park. We'd seen dire warnings all over the parking lot about "Space reserved for..." and towing notices, but it was after nine-thirty and all the offices were dark, so we didn't worry about them too much. Still, we were able to make out the big glass door with a pink triangle on it. It was the only thing lit up down this dark street. The notice on the door called it the "Manchester Social Club," but the triangle was a pretty good indication of what it really was. "Think of it this way," he said, and I could hear the nervous edge on his voice. "It's a gay club, so the only people in there are gay or at least gay-friendly. When you figure in all the shit gay people have to deal with in everyday life, how the hell could they possibly be nasty to one another?" I thought of Stanley and his little band when David said that, but decided it probably wasn't the best time to bring it up. Think positive, I told myself and mentally colored in the voice of Mr. Wood, our senior guidance counselor. Mr. Wood was one of those 'Power of Positive Thinking' types. He always had some clichéd phrase for us, and these little stories about one of his relatives who... and then he'd trail off into one of his pointless parables that basically encouraged brown-nosing and ass-kissing of whatever power there was. You knew it was all bullshit, but you had to sit there and pretend that it was some sort of revelation. I was waiting for graduation day when I could finally look at him and just tell him to plant it up his no-brain ass. Or at least until I had a copy of a college acceptance for a place I wanted to go. I glanced out the window. "You think it'll be alright?" Dave shrugged, sitting next to me in the dark. "What've we got to lose? I mean, I can't be sniffing in the chat rooms and all that, and I'm not about to try your route along the highway. At least at something like this, you can get a chance to see who you're talking to and size 'em up. I mean they can't all be like Jeremy - out for a quick hump, and that's it." I giggled. "I was right. You do want a boyfriend." "I just want to be more than a sex toy. He don't have to love me... just like me. I'll be happy to have that for now." I rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "Hey - I like you." "Uh-huh. And you got two hundred pounds of muscle to play with, who'd kill me if

it ever started to turn into more than just 'like'. I need more than a shoulder rub now and then." He nervously glanced at his watch. "Damn, if this doesn't work, I'll have to call Jeremy again." "The guy's an asshole. I don't know why you bother." He shrugged his shoulders. "That's easy - he's a lot better than a hand-job." We sat staring at the door. Another car drove slowly by, and I saw another guy our age peering at us, probably hoping we weren't from his school or someone that knew him. He parked as far from us as he could in the crowded lot. "Enough," said Dave, and he jerked the door handle and we stepped out, standing in the glow of the Jetta's dome light. He slammed the door and I followed suit and the two of us tried to make a brave show of walking nonchalantly across the parking lot. Then another car caught us in the headlights and we sprinted the rest of the way to the glass doors of The Front Runner. "Think they saw us?" I asked nervously. "Jesus, I hope so. That's what we're here for - remember, dumbass?" He struck a crazy pose. "We are here to see - and to BE seen!" he said grandly and threw the door open with a flourish. "Prepare to enter the Emerald City, Toto!" "Hey, no height jokes!" I whispered. It was an off-white corridor, leading to the left, lined with dull, worn carpet. I was disappointed. Somehow, I had expected something fabulous. Not just special, but fabulous. This looked more like the entryway to an HMO. We turned to the right, and sure enough, there was the reception desk dead ahead. The charge nurse was interesting. We both stopped cold, and I grabbed Dave and pulled him back around the corner. "Dude," I whispered. "That's a drag queen." "Ugly one, too. Jesus, he must put the make-up on with a paint roller and detail with a sash brush. Did you see those tits?" I winced. "You mean the traffic cones? And what do they call that stuff the dress is made of? Lame`?" "And the wig," he giggled. "My gram got a better one at K-Mart when she went to the hospital." We took the corner again, and did our best to close the last ten feet without breaking up. Then his (her?) face split in an enormous smile. "Oh, my brave ones! Welcome, welcome to you both - that is here, and, if I may say, you are lovely... lovely and bold on this fine night. Do not be afraid, for, you are not - as it were - alone anymore! This fine community of brave souls welcomes you to their breasts!" "Yo, Blanche," said a tall, thin guy standing next to her. "Just check the ID's ok? Let the bartenders do the welcome wagon bit. Check the little guy's real close, I don't want any fifteen year olds sneaking in. The cops are tough enough when we do a Romper Room." We gave up our driver's licenses. Dave got a quick pass, but they kept on looking at mine, making sure the holographic imaging was present and that everything was absolutely intact. "Well, my brave darlings," the diva said, extending her left arm theatrically. "You shall pass! Onward - and I believe, upward - in this place of happiness! It has been my distinct pleasure to have met you, my dear, Chris. And should you not know, I , as always, am just Ju - " "Shut up, blowhard," said Mr. Thin, behind her. "Quit cruisin' the tender cuts in the meat rack, ok? This is Twink Patrol tonight, not Crotch Watch. Ten bucks, guys. Each." We paid up and hustled away as the two bickered at one another. "Jesus, can you imagine if everyone talked like that?" I whispered as we walked down the corridor. "Could be worse - they might write like that, too. There's something familiar about that guy though... shit! I swear, it's the guy who painted our house last summer."

We passed the coat room, and got our first look at Oz through glass doors. The room was filled with men, and even outside the doors we could feel the music more than hear it as the bass rattled the walls and floor around us. I could feel every beat rumbling through me, and when I looked at Dave's face, I could see that it had grabbed him, too. I had never seen him more alert or alive. We stood looking at a room filled with men, men of every age and look. When the door opened and the music hit us full force, you could smell them, feel them getting into you. Gay men, aroused and alive, prowling in their private world, looking for love or lust or whatever. Eyes went over you and appraised what they saw, accepting or rejecting in the blink of an eye. It scared me, but it set a fire in David I knew. He was hooked. "We made it, Chris, and I ain't ever going back to Kansas," he yelled over the din. "And right now I want to do the one thing I think is the sexiest thing guys can do with each other." He looked at me with crazy eyes and a quivering smile as he took me by the hand and pulled me out to the dance floor. "Come and dance with me. Fast ones and slow ones, don't matter. Just dance with me."

Dave was a great dancer, and one of the few things I could ever thank my older sister for was teaching me some good moves. The floor wasn't packed, but it was busy, and we went non-stop for almost a half-hour. The DJ was pumping out one solid dance mix after another, working the lights and keeping us all off-base. We felt the heat from the bodies around us, took in the free flesh show as men tore off sweat-drenched shirts and moved wildly on the floor. There was a small stage in front of the DJ booth and a couple of guys were just short of having sex in front of the whole club... and no one cared. Oh, they watched, and some leered, but no one was going to stop them. Then without warning, the thunderous music around us stopped, and the lights were gone. Slowly, the sounds of an old slow dance cautiously crept from the speakers, and all around us arms slipped around a partner, even just a partner for the moment, and the bodies pressed together and heads were leaned on shoulders, and the crowd slowly moved along the floor. Dave and I were no different, and in that moment I knew what it was like to be close, truly close, with a friend. Dave's cheek was close to mine, and I could smell his cologne and his sweat mixed together. I could feel his arms squeezing around my waist, and I locked my arms around his neck. Our crotches rubbed, but it wasn't about sex; it was about a moment between us, one I don't think either of us had ever had before or maybe ever would again. This was a first for both of us and we were sharing it, doing that dumb imitation of a slow waltz all people do, just shuffling around in small circles with our bodies pressed against each other. Finally I just pulled Dave closer into me and he gave me a hug and kissed my cheek as we parted. I slipped an arm around him and we left the floor as the last strains of the slow song trailed off, and the lights came on again and the thundering began again. It would have been nicer if it were Jamie beside me, but things were different between David and me now, and we relaxed more and actually enjoyed the feeling of being touched by a friend in a public place. It really felt good next to him, and we were sipping cokes and checking out the crowd as we leaned against the rail that surrounded the floor. We were both clapping wildly when this guy jumped on top of one of the speakers and tore off his shirt and started a wild set of moves. I thought the security people might come after him but this didn't seem to be an unusual thing here, and the waiters just nodded and took orders. We had to retreat from the music a little, so we leaned against the wall that separated this section from the bar room. Dave's eyes still glittered as he looked 'round the room, and I wasn't much better. We both scanned the

'Competition', and at least Dave was checking the 'Possibilities'. Well, so was I. One drew my attention, for no better reason than he was openly staring our way. He was in a loose fitting rugby shirt that showed off a great upper body, and a pair of pants carefully tailored in the seat and crotch to show off everything else. From a side view, he had an ass that was at least as nice as Dave's, maybe even better. I tried for some direct eye contact, but it was hard to tell with the flash of the lights, but his head was nodding and he was looking my way. I was doing my best to see how interested I could get him. Pretty interested, I thought, and then he pushed off from the rail and was headed our way. "Got a live one," I told David, and he turned to see what I meant. "If Jamie only knew," he called over my shoulder. "I'm Evan, and you are one sexy guy," he said, sliding in between us and promptly turning his back on me. He leaned his arm against the wall and rested his head on his fist, all eyes and smiles for David. "I'm David." "Er, I'm Chris," I said, leaning in. "Wow - David. It means beloved in Hebrew, you know." "Did you meet Chris?" he said, pointing to me. "God, you've got gorgeous eyes." He paused, then eyed me for a moment. "Hi, Chris." Before I could answer, he turned back. "So, David - wow, that is so much better-sounding than just 'Dave'! I haven't seen you here before. Your first time? In for, like, chicken night?" He grinned. "Guess so. Might say I'm one of the chicks. Um, Chris is with me." "Kewl. Nice for a hot hunk to bring a little friend along. So, you in college? I go to UNH. Just a sophomore, but I come here on the weekends with a doctored up ID. Heh, don't tell the Dragon Lady at the door, ok? Hey, like, I might be able to get you one if you want - a fake ID I mean. And hey, my roommate's gone tonight. Nice, huh? Got the room at the dorm all to myself, like. Wanna dance?" "Um....." David looked around Evan at me, helplessly. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Go ahead, don't pay any attention to me. He certainly isn't." David shrugged, and if Evan heard me he didn't bother to acknowledge it. Evan pushed off the wall and took David's hand and lead him off to the floor. David looked back with this half-confused, half-laughing look on his face, and the two spun off into the mix. I dropped against the wall and went into sulk mode. Suddenly, we were plunged into blackness as the strobe-lights began to whirl around on the dance floor, and it was tough to make things out as the laser beams pulsed with every beat. I blinked once or twice to get my bearings, but the room seemed out of kilter. I felt someone standing close behind me. "That was plain mean," he said, in a soft, quiet voice. "Cut you off, like you didn't exist." At first, I wasn't sure I'd heard it. I turned. He was about David's height, with a slender build from what I could see. I shrugged, squinting as I tried to make out his features, but it wasn't any use. "Don't let that arsehole bother you," he said. His voice sounded slightly foreign, but I couldn't quite place it. He smiled at me. "You seem like a nice guy, and he's just too blind to see it. I'm Jade," he said, and offered his hand. "I'm - " I started. "Yeah, Chris - I heard. Wish I could stay, but I can't. Maybe I'll see you again. I hope so." Then he leaned in and gave me just the quickest kiss on the cheek before giving my hand a squeeze and whirled away. The lights went off from the dance floor for a second as he stepped into the hallway that led to the main bar. He turned to wave, but he was so heavily back-lit, all I could make out was his silhouette.

Then he was gone. I tried to go after him, just to thank him for making me feel better about being snubbed. Was I attracted? Yes. I was attracted because he was just a nice guy, and he actually seemed to care that a stranger could have his feelings hurt. I'd come here hoping to make some friends, not to line up a date. Sure, I was flirting with Evan, but that was just for a little fun. I thought maybe we could dance and laugh a little, but I never intended to lead him on. Being edged out by David in the looks department was no big deal - I expected that. What I didn't expect was to be treated like I didn't exist. I made it into the main bar and was about to sprint to the coat room to see if I could find Jade when I slammed into a solid chest that sent a drink flying and me bouncing back to the floor. I sat there, dazed, hearing the laughter pointed at me and I blushed. I felt like an idiot, sitting there covered with something dark that was more than coke. Great, I thought. If my parents were up when I got home, I'd get the third degree for sure and a lecture on teen drinking no matter what I told them, and I wasn't about to tell them that I was doused in a gay bar having an underage night chasing a mystery kisser out the door. Good thing I wasn't driving, either. This was the perfect time for a tail light to burn out and get pulled over by an over-ambitious cop who had nothing but time on his hands. I'm not on real intimate terms with rum, but I know what it smells like, at least. I sat back, looking at a pair of denim-clad knees, and followed up to... well never mind what I followed up to next. But from there, my eyes followed up a snug-fitting red sweatshirt. Then I saw this big happy smile wreathed with dimples and clear gray eyes, topped off with a long cascade of shiny brown hair. He wasn't as big and tight as Jamie, but this guy was a wet dream in the flesh. And unless he had a second pair of sox on him that night, God had been very good to him. "Dude, ya gotta watch where you're goin'!" He was laughing, and held out a hand to help me up. He pulled me up off the floor, then twitched his head to the right so his hair flipped back over his shoulder. I noticed he had one of the green wrist bands on, which meant he was over twenty-one. He nodded, reading my mind. "Yeah, guy. It was a rum and coke, and I just bet you live at home with your folks, right?" "Uh-huh," I said, nodding. "And with luck they'll be sound asleep when I come sneaking in." "I'm real sorry, but you came out of nowhere and my hands just went out in like a reflex. I guess I'm about as responsible as you." He was still smiling, and one eye was half-covered by a wave of hair. I found the look incredibly sexy. I may have thought of Evan as hot-looking, but I never intended to try to do more than get him out on a dance floor. I found myself staring at this guy and fantasizing as if Jamie never existed. "Hey, I'd offer you a drink but the best I could get you is a coke... er..." The big easy smile again. "No sweat. Name's Ken. Tell you what - I'll get us both something, but you gotta promise to go over to that table and sit real quiet while I walk back, okay? I don't think either one of us wants an encore... um, uh..." he wiggled his eyebrows at me like they were big question marks as I stood staring at him, my mouth slightly open. He still waited expectantly, and he opened his eyes wide. "Hey, you got a name?" Oh yeah, St. Jacques. Real smooth. "C-c-chris," I stammered. "Sorry, uh, Ken...heh... guess I'm a little on the shell-shocked side... heh heh." Jesus, I even sounded stupid now. He looked me over with more than casual interest. "Looks like something else is a little shook up, too," he said and went for the bar. I didn't realize what he meant until I was suddenly aware of the fact that I had a thumper and was tenting the front of my pants. I scuttled for the seats Ken had pointed out, then nervously pulled my pants around me to give me a little slack, just to help

camouflage my excitement. Jesus Christ, I thought. Next time, I'm wearing briefs. My hands were sweaty and my throat felt dry. What's the matter with me? I've got my own hunk back in Haverhill who's every bit as hot as this guy. Why am I acting like this? Because, I told myself as my own devil's advocate, you're not the only one who's turned on, and you like the attention... Ken came back with two bottles of flavored sparkling water and handed me one. "AJ says he won't serve me liquor since he knows I'm sitting with you. The Manchester cops are usually pretty cool about this place, but when they have an under-age night, they watch it pretty close. They're afraid I might slip you something." "But..." I protested, "if I were in the other room and you came out for a drink..." "They'd never say a word, even if I bought two and handed you one on the other side. Dumb rules, but I don't make 'em. And not getting served a rum and coke 'cuz I wanna talk to a nice-lookin' guy ain't exactly the worst thing that ever happened to me." His smile made me feel like the temperature in the room just went up 20 degrees. "So, where you from? And you're in high school, right?" "I guess my kid face makes that pretty clear." Ken snorted. "Well, if you got by Godzilla and Martin at the door you gotta be at least eighteen, so I know I won't get hauled up for statutory rape." You couldn't rape me, I thought. You can't rape the willing. Noooooo, play it cool. "Making some assumptions, aren't you?" I said, grinning. He reddened and shook his head, but his smile staid intact. "Oh man, sorry! I didn't mean to sound like that. No man, really - I was just kiddin'. Actually, I have to leave here soon. I got a date with a guy who's gettin' off work, and we're meeting at my place. I got an apartment in Lawrence, that's just across-" "The Mass border. I know, I'm from Haverhill." That got me a happy face. "Wow, Haverhill! You're just down the highway from me. That's where my date's from, too. He's a senior at Whittier Tech. You go there by any chance?" I sighed with relief. Whittier Tech was the vocational school in the regional district. I didn't know if I wanted to find out about any more gay kids at Haverhill High right now... or have them find out about me. He stood up. "Look, Chris - you seem like a nice guy, and I'd like to get to know you better, so here's the deal," he was digging a stub of pencil out of his pocket and began scribbling on a cocktail napkin. "I know you're in high school, so that means living at home... so, here's my number. I know better than to ask for yours." He handed me the paper. "Give me a call sometime, and maybe we can work something out. And I'm talkin' just a date, not, well... yeah." He grinned. "We can get to know each other better." I picked it up and folded it, still looking at his face, and liking what I saw more and more from the deep laugh lines around his mouth to the wave of hair that kept falling in front of his left eye. A lot of guys look like hell with long hair, but Ken wasn't one of them. I leaned back and sipped my fizz water. "What about your boyfriend?" I asked, trying not to think of mine. He grinned. "Well, for starters, he ain't exactly my boyfriend. He's, um, well... We sorta get together now and then, even though I haven't seen much of him since the end of summer. I get the feeling he has a girlfriend or something - I mean, I don't have to tell you what high school is like. But, um... well, we get together now and then... just sorta friendly and all. But to tell ya the truth, I wouldn't mind having him to myself. Big guy, drop-dead gorgeous - all the things you dream about. Damn smart for a voc guy. His name's Rob, and..." "Chris!" David was back - and without Evan, I was happy to see. Instead, he had a new guy in tow, about the same height as Dave, but a much stockier build. Not fat, just a big-chested guy. Light brown hair and blue eyes, and if he wasn't Irish with

that upturned nose of his and rosy cheeks, I don't know who was. He had a shy look to him, like maybe he was a little uncomfortable being here, something I could understand. David had fit himself into the rush real well, but I was still more than a little nervous. Ken was being a nice guy, and while he made it clear he was interested, at least he wasn't being pushy or a pain in the ass about anything. Dave gave Ken the once-over, then grinned at me. "Well, I see you've been busy." "Don't be smart, David. What happened to Evan?" "Evan found out not every guy likes having his balls played with on the dance floor or wants to see the ceiling of his room at UNH. Then I found Mr. Shy here hiding in a corner. This is Eric - Eric, this is my friend Chris, and..." he looked expectantly at Ken. "I know Kenny," Eric said with a big smile, and he extended his hand to me. "Nice meeting you, Chris. Hey Ken, I thought you had a date with that big stud from Haverhill?" "Master of timing, Eric. Just when I had Chris ready to take a walk to my car. Oh, Jesus - don't go all red now, I was just kiddin'! Really, I just told Chris I had to run, and he knows all about Rob, so you can forget the gossip once I'm gone." Kenny stood, and took my hand in his giving me a gentle squeeze. Our eyes locked, and his voice dropped a little. "Seriously dude - you got my number, so give me a call and we can do somethin' sometime." Oh, yeah. I had his number all right. He turned to David. "Good move losing Evan, by the way. He's bad news. And me I gotta make steel fly and get thirty miles in twenty minutes! David, nice almost meeting you. Always good seeing you Eric, and Chris..." he gave my cheek a quick brush with his lips and squeezed my shoulder. A flick of his head to clear the hair again, and a wink. Then he was gone. Eric watched Ken's back as he passed through the doors into the hallway. "If it's worth anything to you, Chris, Ken's a great guy." "Looked a little old for an 18-Plus party," Dave put in. Eric shrugged. "He just turned twenty-one a couple weeks ago. He's been coming to these things since he started at Merrimack College, and he likes seeing the people he used to hang with that can't go clubbing on a regular night. I met him about a year ago and he's great." Dave leaned his chin into his cupped hands, and looked directly into Eric's face with a dreamy smile. "So, tell me about - " "The guy from Whittier is named Rob? He come in here?" "Nah, tell you the truth I think he's under age but you'd never know it. Big guy, over six feet, beautiful blond hair and--- " I felt something grab me in the chest. "Really deep blue eyes?" "You got it. And built! He's so damn big he has to drive this big clunker of a Ford." Whatever grabbed me was squeezing harder. "Like a Crown Vic?" "Yeah, I saw it a couple times and it's a gas guzzling oil slurper." David was staring at me, and I could hear his mental message. "Don't go there. Stop before it's too late. Don't." "I don't suppose he has this really husky kinda dumb-jock voice does he?" Ken thought for a minute. "Yeah, he sounds like Dauber on the old 'Coach' series." I sat back, all hope lost, defeat in every muscle of my body. "Wonder where they met..." I trailed off. Eric leaned forward, mischief in his eyes. I wondered if he knew how much I hated him and his gossip at that moment. "Ken doesn't make any bones about how he stops for a little 'roadside assistance' every now and then. I mean... a guy has needs, you understand." I felt so tired, I wanted to be out of this place so much. "Yeah. I understand.

Do they see each other much?" Eric shrugged. "Way Kenny says it, they were all hot and heavy for a while last summer, nothing serious you understand - not a big deal romance. Just, you know, physical. But then it dropped right off just before school started, that's why Ken figures the guy has a girl friend stashed or something. You're in high school, you know what it's like. I think this is maybe the third or forth time they've been able to get together since September. Always during the week, never on the weekend." He sniggered. "The guy's been pretty lucky so far, though. He's gonna get spotted sooner or later." "Why's that?" "Ken has this little thing of his - he always likes leaving a mark. Nothin' big, just a little hickey where his guy can't see it real easy. Usually just under the shoulder blade or something. If Rob's got a girlfriend, she's gonna spot it one of these days."

Dave had the Jetta cranked up to warp speed as usual. I didn't react, just stared out the window into the darkness, wishing I was home. "You haven't said anything since you doused Eric with your drink. I suppose you're pissed at me too?" "Why would I be pissed at you?" I said, quietly. "Same reason you were pissed off at Eric - no reason at all. You asked questions, he answered 'em. Wasn't his fault you didn't like the answers." "You've got no idea what it's like. I trusted Jamie, and he's screwing someone behind my back. He's prob'ly screwing him right now." "Hey, I know something about being screwed over, Chris," David said flatly. "And you. If I fished in your pockets, would I find Ken's name and phone number folded up neatly in your wallet? I saw you tucking something there when I came around the corner. And I saw that 'come do me baby' look you had on your face." "It's not the same thing!" I snapped. "Dammit, Dave, you make me sound like a friggin' hypocrite!" "That's 'cuz your acting like one."

Chapter 7

"The Big Chill"

"The whole thing is crap," I said, pushing back from the computer and minimizing the screen. "It's just a big joke. I don't know why I'm even bothering to take this thing." Dave was lying on my bed, eyes closed and hands tucked behind his head with a big smile on his face. "You scored that high, huh?" I was indignant. "No, really, Dave. All these questions are just so subjective. I mean, it's almost like any honest answer and they hang you for it." His voice had an infuriating smugness to it. "Spoken like a true six -- or better." I gave him a dirty look. I scored seven the first time, edited things a bit but still came out a six. Screw you, straightacting.com. Whoever heard of a gay web site that gauged your feminine quotient as opposed to your masculine side? The

whole thing was ridiculous. A special page for gay men? I wanted to shoot the mother who came up with it. "So how did you do?" "Now, that would be telling," he said with more than a little sneer in his voice. Then he held up four fingers. I answered him with one and rechecked the chart. "Ok, but you're still under suspicion. Some people got you figured out." He laughed. "It's still better than having everyone take one look and go 'uh-huh - yup there's one.' So what was it? I left my e-mail addy on it so don't lie. The results are already on the way to my Hotmail." "I am not a flamethrower, thank you." "Maybe not a flamethrower, but at least a Bic. Wynona could tag a light off your back for her Marlboro. Now tell me the results so I don't have to call back later and harass ya - and I mean the results to the first test you took, not the one you doctored up." Wasn't much use in dodging the bullet here. "Ok, I made some mistakes the first time, and that's for real. I just corrected the mistakes is all. It says I'm a six." David didn't move except to nod. "I knew you'd come off as the Human Torch." I whipped a stuffed bear Jamie had bought me and it bounced off David's head, landing on my night table and knocking over my incense burner. The bastard wouldn't even give me the satisfaction of acknowledging the hit. "Did I sense something swish by?" For an answer I jumped the smug mother on the bed and started tickling him. He went into spasms and shouted "NNNNNNNnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!" and I knew I'd get my revenge. I kept at it till he rolled off the bed desperate to get away from me, then he tried to scoot under it. I grabbed him again when he got stuck halfway. "I give! I give!" "And the test is rigged, right?" "Yeah - please - stop! Yeah, the test is all BS, I swear! It don't mean anything! Just don't tickle me!" A confession extracted by torture wouldn't hold up in a court, but it was good enough for me. I pulled David out from under the bed, and we sat on the floor. David was trying hard to catch his breath, and still occasionally broke out in a fit of giggles, which got worse if I made a quick move and he'd curl up in a ball. "Jesus, Chris! Please! Stop!" "Ok, you're off the hook. I'll be good." The two of us sat on the floor of my bedroom, waiting for David to finally calm, and then we fell into a silence and listened to the mp3s on my computer. David slung an arm over my shoulder and I leaned into his. So far, everything had been just a friendly visit with some screwing around, but we both knew we were heading for some heavy stuff. David had questions, and I knew I would answer them. Not because I had to, but just because it would feel good to have someone to talk things over with. Last night had been the wrong time to talk things over - I had been furious with Jamie, and David wasn't exactly thrilled about my dumping a drink over the head of his new 'friend', Eric. Especially since he hadn't gotten the chance to get the guy's phone number. "Sorry about Eric," I offered. "Pfffttt Eric. I know you were hurting." He rubbed my shoulder with his long fingers, kneading the muscles. "I wasn't exactly sympathetic in the car, either. I can't say I know how you feel, but I have an idea of it, Chris. It's one thing to think about another guy and maybe even flirt and take his number. It's another to be meeting him on the side. Now, ummmmm... well." He looked over at me. "Have you seen Jamie yet?" I grimaced. "Yup. He was over here at 9AM, lookin' all tired out and bleary but ready to go. Said he went right home last night, did some homework, then stayed

up late watching some old movie on the tube." David nodded. "That's reasonable." I sighed. "It would be, except for one thing. I drove by there after you dropped me off. His car wasn't there." David pursed his lips and shook his head. "Why the hell did you have to do that?" "Because I did. I had to know." I didn't want to know, though. David had dumped me off and driven into the night. We hadn't spoken a word to each other since he had called me a hypocrite - which I have to admit was the truth, even if I didn't like it. We had gotten tossed out of The Front Runner by the Dragon Lady and a waiter almost before my bottle had drained over Eric's head and told not to come back before it was even 11:45. We'd made it back to Haverhill in a little over forty minutes. I had gone up to my room and changed out of my damp clothes, thrown on sweats and clicked on the tube. I played surfer until a little after 1 AM and then told myself I had find out. I'd slipped on a pair of trainers and eased down the stairs and out the door. It didn't take long to get across town to Jamie's, no traffic and most of the lights were just blinking at that hour. I parked on Water Street for a time, looking at the house sitting on the top of its hill. Jamie's room faced Water, overlooking the river. I saw the light on but that didn't mean much. I'm not sure how long I sat idling before I drove up the side street and around back to the other side of the house. I killed the lights almost as soon as I cleared the corner, and crept up to the Cayman's drive. Two cars parked, presumably Phil's and Jeanette's. No beat up rusting hulk of a Crown Victoria, though. I reasoned to myself that it was possible Jamie had a breakdown at work, but even I wasn't about to believe that. Jamie had driven that pig long enough to be able to nursemaid it through anything short of an all-out death rattle in the engine. Still, that was a possibility... "Then I suppose you waited, right?" I shrugged. "Not long. Maybe another ten minutes or so." "Bullshit. You sat there until almost two-thirty." I looked at him. He wasn't fazed. "Yeah, I was there, waitin' for you to show and then to make sure you didn't do anything stupid." I shook my head. "I never even saw your Jetta." "I was at the far end of the block with the engine off. The only thing you had eyes for was a shit box Ford. You drove right by me staring at the Cayman house." I hung my head, embarrassed. "Thanks," I said in a low voice. I looked into his gentle dark eyes. "Thanks for caring." He hugged me a bit and stroked the side of my head, then leaned in and gave me a small kiss on the cheek. I looked at him startled for a second. No other guy had ever kissed me before besides Jamie, even a friendly kiss like that one. I was nervous for a second but I realized that it was just David trying to offer comfort to a friend who needed it. "There's more, now tell me. Jamie came over at nine... and I assume he was ready for action." Nodding my head I closed my eyes. I had given Jamie a key awhile ago so he could 'slip in' quietly on days when my parents weren't around, and he'd come up to my room and found me laying face down on my mattress, pretending to be asleep. Oh, I had slept all right, a little anyway, but it was a restless sleep and I woke up every few minutes, or at least it seemed that way. I listened to my parents trying to move around quietly, giving me a break. I didn't stay out late often so that wasn't an issue, and I seldom slept in late either so they did their best to cut me slack. I hadn't fallen back to sleep until I heard my mother ease the door shut a few minutes behind my father. Then my eyes opened again when I heard the soft creak of the stairs, and knew it had to be Jamie. I just lay there with my eyes shut, trying to control my breathing.

I heard that sound cloth makes when you jerk it off and over your head. I snuck a look, and sure enough Jamie had his naked back to me as he bent down to pull his jeans down his legs. As usual he had skipped the underwear; he liked to be able to 'clear for action' quickly when he knew we weren't going to be interrupted. Plus, as he put it so nicely, he liked to free ball it whenever he could. I checked out his back. Uh-huh. Two little discolorations just under the right shoulder blade. I sighed just as he let his pants drop and he turned, seeing me with my head propped up on my elbow. "Hey, baby," he said, and leaned in to give me a kiss on the cheek. I pulled my head back. He went to tweak my nose - something I usually allowed - but I slapped his hand away. Hard. He stood there rubbing it, brows furrowed. "Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?" "Rough night," I mumbled. He reached out and rubbed his hand against the side of my chest, easing himself onto the bed in a sitting position. I lay there, feeling the light touch of his hand and looked up into his face. God, those clear blue eyes... you could swim in them. His lips were parted slightly, showing his even teeth. "So how was the bar?" I shrugged, and scooted to the side, giving him room to slide in next to me. How can I describe how I felt just then? I loved him, and I hated him. I wanted to grab him and hold him as close as I could... and another part of me wanted to dig into the closet for that baseball bat my dad bought for my eighth birthday and club him with it. At least it would get used for once. "It was dark and smoky and loud. We saw a lot of guys and spoke to a drag queen." Oh, and I met the guy you're doing on the side. Jamie nodded his head like that all made sense. "So, you didn't have a good time?" "David had a great time. Some guy dumped a drink on me." Would he bite? Did Kenny told him he'd run into some kid from Haverhill named Chris with a beak of a nose and a skinny ass? Would my blond Rock-Head put it all together? "What did you do?" He slipped under the covers and tried to draw me close to him but I held him at arms length. He shrugged, but he still ran a finger along my thigh after he drew the covers over us. "Got off work, studied some. Watched a couple videos way too late, then got up earlier'n I should but it's worth it just to be here with you like this." You lying bastard, I thought. "Miss Vicky give you any problems?" He shrugged. "The car's okay. Just a matter of time 'till I gotta junk it though, I'm just hoping for the winter. Jesus, imagine if you have to shoe-horn me into that little Toyota of yours?" I looked at him, so innocent and easygoing and there was a fire in me. I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head to me and mashed my lips down on his. I forced him onto his back, kicking his legs wide and trying to pin his arms down. He looked up at me, shocked... all the times we made love, Jamie had taken the lead even if it was me on top. It was nothing we ever talked about or argued about, it was just the way it was and I went with it because I liked it like that. This time I was the aggressive one, and I wasn't being too nice about it, either. He tried to move a little to the left and I slapped his thigh and jerked his legs up and slung them over my shoulders. I grabbed a rubber and pushed it on, splattered some lube and that was foreplay. I rammed him, plowed him, banged him, ripped him an extra one, whatever you want to call it. I used sex as a weapon, gripping his legs just behind the knees and holding him up high and helpless, half standing and using my advantage to lunge as hard and deep into him over and over. I wanted him to fight me, to howl, yell for me to stop, beg me for mercy...

...but he didn't. His eyes were clenched shut, occasionally opening to small slits, and sweat covered his face. I could hear this high-pitched strangled sound coming from the back of his throat but that was it. But I could feel his fingers gripping my thighs and the cheeks of my butt as I power lunged into him, my own sweat running heavy down my face, beading at the end of my nose and chin, then dripping onto him. He clenched his sphincter tight around me, and I tried a swizzle-stick method and he made more of those high pitched sounds, mixed sometimes with a gurgle, and I could feel him pulling me into him harder and harder as I quickened my strokes and increased the force behind them as much as I could. You kinky son of a bitch, I thought. You're actually getting into this. Then he did the unthinkable, the thing you read about in every net stroke story, the one thing I always thought was pure bull. I don't know about you, but as much as I like being on the receiving end of things, I always lose my wood. Not my cheating little stud-bunny - no, not at all. He was dumping a load all over his belly, and it was running down and covering his chest. His eyes flew open and locked on mine and he was grinning like a fool, and forcing me to pump him harder. Yeah, I know how to take my revenge... I pulled out, rolled to the side and kicked him off the bed and heard a satisfying thud as he hit the floor. "HEY!" "Shut up," I said in a growl, and rolled off to the side. Jamie had righted himself and was sitting up. Using my foot I pushed him back against the bed. His face was turning red, and I saw a mean look in his eyes. "What are - ?" "I said shut up," I repeated, and stood over him, one foot on either side of his body. I tore off the rubber and tossed it down on him. My cock was still hard and inches from his face. I leaned forward and started slapping his face with it... teasing him with it. His eyes began to follow me hypnotically. Well, his eyes followed part of me, anyway. His mouth was open, and I saw his tongue snake out and try to play tag while I teased. Then I just grabbed him by the hair and forced myself into his mouth and just plain rutted. No dirty talk, no teasing, no taunting, none of that crap. I just rutted. I can't scare you one way, I will another, I told myself. I pounded his face with my pelvis as I held his head firm. I could feel my low riders slapping happily against his chin. Then he did it again. He grabbed my ass cheeks and started pulling me deeper, faster and harder into his face. Jaime loves giving head. Today was no exception. I really do think in another life his name must have been Hoover or Eureka. No matter how hard I tried to make him work for it or at least choke a little for breath, he provided more suction than a central house cleaning unit. And hey, I may not be as big as him down there but I am not small. Couldn't he at least give me the occasional courtesy gag? His nose was buried in my pubic hair and I could feel that final tightening in my balls and I knew there was just one last hope... one more thing I could do to cheat him out of his pleasure. I jerked his head backwards by the hair and stepped back until I felt myself free in the cool air "NO! I WANT IT!" - and splattered it in his face. A lot of it. If there were contests for this, I could have won a gold medal. 'Biggest load in a hissy fit'. Then I just let his hair go and pushed him to the side, stepping over him and crawling back onto the bed. I lay there, listening to his breathing. I heard a slapping sound, and any guy who's hit puberty knows what that sound means, so I won't have to tell you. Another throaty gurgle, followed by a silence. Finally I heard him rise, and the sound of unsteady foot steps across the room. Shower, I thought to myself. Then he'll just clear out. Yup, I heard the water run for a few, then stop. I heard him at the door and his

heavy footsteps. Now he'll dress and just leave. Careful though, he might take a swing. Well, let him. I don't care. I've had some revenge anyway. I felt his weight on the side of the bed. He was sliding in beside me, and I could feel the dampness of his skin, then his lips brushing my neck. The dick head was breathless. "Baby, that was awesome. I dunno what got into you today, but I hope it gets into you again. That was the best, Chris. I can't remember when it's been better." I felt a push on my shoulder. "Earth to Chris! You gonna answer my question?" I felt dazed and I blinked, bringing Dave back into focus. "Huh?" "I asked what you said to Jamie." David made a big show of looking down at my crotch, then back up to my face with a knowing look. "Never mind. The other head might not talk, but he's pretty good at giving signals. You slut. You banged him, didn't you?" Betrayed by my favorite toy, I readjusted my pants. God has a mean sense of humor. He gives you a good-sized one, then gives it a will of its own to betray you. Must be a cruel joke for the whole Garden of Eden thing. I somehow never thought making a dick look a lot like a snake was divine coincidence. Then I wondered what my third grade nun at All Saints Parochial would have said to that. I mean, after the smelling salts. That would have gotten me bounced from school for sure. Maybe even excommunicated. I shrugged. "A guy has needs." "Humph. So what you're saying is, you used Jamie?" I eyed him. "Like you got a problem using Jeremy for a little recreation? And last night when you brought Eric back you were only interested in a little conversation?" David wasn't taking any of my bull. "You're right. When I met Eric, I was only thinking of one thing, and so was he - just like Evan was only thinking of one thing, but at least Eric had some class about it. And if I use Jeremy, it's because he wants to use me, there's no bullshitting about it. No one was making a big case for anything to be any more than it was. You were pissed at Jamie, so you used him. He thinks it's because you love him, but the truth was you were just plain pissed. That's where the lying and using stuff comes in. It wasn't a clear field." I was disgusted and got up and clicked the Music icon on my computer, randomly triggering one of my play lists. Winamp came up on the screen again, and my four Creative Surround speakers filled my bedroom with music. "Unless I'm mistaken, isn't one of your jobs as a friend to offer a little support? I mean, even Buffy has Willow at least." Dave widened his eyes and let his jaw hang slack and put on his Valley Girl accent rocking his head back and forth. "Gee Buffy, it really sucks, Angel is out doin' the Banshees and other Ghoulies in LA while you defend the world from the beasties. Golly-gee-whiz, let's go see Giles - maybe he can cast a spell or something! Who-hoo!" I glared at him. "I suppose a little sympathy is out of the question." He jerked his head at the dictionary on my bookshelf. "You'll find it right there in your Merriam-Webster's. Sympathy. It's somewhere between shit and syphilis." I ignored that. "So, what are you saying, then? I suppose it was all right for him to go behind my back and meet with Kenny last night?" "You don't know that," he said, clenching his jaw. "I saw the marks! Just like Eric told us. Two little blood marks under the shoulder blade. Hickeys, Dave. Kinda hard to twist your head around and give yourself one of those, never mind two. Am I supposed to be blind as well as dumb?" "Then why the hell didn't you just say something? Why make a game out of it? Why

not just tell him to screw? It's not like he's the only guy out there, Chris! You're not alone." I sat there, working my mouth but nothing came out. There was a reason I didn't just say something this morning. There had to be a reason. Then something came up on the mp3 file that was playing in Winamp. Tina Turner's raspy voice choked out her greatest question, the hardest question anyone has ever asked: "What's love got to do with it...what's love but a second hand emotion..." I hung my head, and felt the hot tears well in my eyes and my body began to shake. "I don't want to lose him." David reached over again, and took me gently in his arms as I felt the tears roll down my face. We'd spend a good part of the afternoon like that, just quietly sitting there and holding, long after the mp3 files ran out. No more words were spoken, no more had to be. ~~~~~~~~~~ It's hard to describe the next few weeks, the things I felt, and the things I wanted to feel. Each day I'd head into school, sometimes traveling with Jamie, sometimes on my own depending on our schedules. I'd sit there and smile, nod, say all the things I was expected to say or thought I ought to be saying. I'd sit in a class with Jamie over and to my left, just behind me, just on the edge of my vision. I'd feel him watching me. If I turned, he always managed to be angled just enough so I couldn't really tell if he was watching me or not, and no one ever said anything so I have to assume no one else ever noticed. He'd look up and smile a little when he'd see me peeking, but that was all. He'd shadow me to my next class or meet me in the halls at least for classes we spent away from each other. Part of me loved that; another part of me was haunted, and when I'd see his clear blue eyes and happy smile, in the back of my mind was always the same thing, the same question, over and over. Why can't I be enough? I don't think there's anything harder in life than acting like everything is just perfect than when your soul is being ripped out of you. I was a coward, so I did what a coward does - I ignored reality. I wouldn't think about it or face Jamie with it. David tried to discuss it with me privately, but I refused his help. School just wasn't the place for that kind of talk, so David tried to talk at work since I was avoiding him as much as I was avoiding Jamie. We'd huddle then I'd stalk off. Jamie would come by the store and get caught in the middle. And of course, I was treating him badly. Karen watched us, watched me with David, and watched me with Jamie. She didn't like what she was seeing. She'd try to talk to me but I wouldn't budge. I know she tried grilling Dave, and that was the first time she ran into one of his stone walls. David didn't gossip. David didn't break confidence. On the other hand, Karen wasn't the type to take no for an answer. Frustrated, she tried calling a bluff and pulled us into the break room. She sat us down at a table, and sat opposite, hands neatly folded, very prim. "Something's been going on since I sent you two off to that club in Manchester, and I don't think it's very healthy, either. I am going to ask you one question, and I require and honest answer." She leaned forward, looking me directly in the eyes. "Are you two sleeping together?" I was shocked, tried to mouth a protest as she stood there glaring at us with her hands on her hips. I was ready to spill my guts, but David never blinked. He placed a hand on my arm to quiet me. His eyes became slits and his voice took a cool edge. "You - require an answer?" He nodded his head, then leaned his chin down onto his other propped up hand, never taking his eyes off her. "Well here's an answer, and it's the only one you're entitled to." Karen peered at him. "It's none of your goddamn business," he said quietly. "Bring it up again and

I'll file a complaint with Prendegast for harassment - you're my boss, not my priest. And I don't take that crap from him, either." He turned to me. "C'mon, we have work to do." "I'm not done with you two, yet!" she sputtered. David had me by the hand and was dragging me to the door where he paused before pulling me through it. "Yes, you are. Push it and you'll find out just how much more done you can be," and let the door swing shut. I was completely knocked out, and stood there with my mouth flapping for a few minutes before I could spit something out. "Why are you being like that? Karen's our friend. She means well." David just shook his head, fixing me with those dark eyes of his. "Chris, there's a story about the road to hell and what it's made of. Karen just doesn't need to know about this unless we - no, scratch that - unless you decide to tell her. Not get bullied or shamed into it, but decide to tell her. And bein' honest here, I wouldn't let her know until you make up your mind what you're going to do. Karen's a great boss, and a lot of fun most times, but I gotta wonder about taking advice about my love life from an attractive, smart, thirty year old woman who doesn't even have the occasional date and spends way to much time involving herself in the love lives of three teenage gay boys. This is for you to figure out." I was being stubborn and feeling sorry for myself, determined to play the martyr. "It's not like you're big with the advice," I said sarcastically. "Maybe she could help." David slammed a book down on the counter. His face was flushed but his voice was low and controlled and correct as he looked me in the eye. "You want my advice? Forget what you know, or think you know. Wanna know why? Because Jamie Levesque, for some real dumb reason, seems to think the world begins and ends with you. He fuckin' follows you everywhere, puts up with your bullshit when you got a hair across your ass - which is most of the time lately - and the only thing he ever asks is if you want to spit on him some more. See, he and I have something in common - for some reason, we both give a damn about you. He just gives a damn in a much bigger way. I just wish I had someone give that much of a damn about me. Now, stop your whining and complaining. Your boyfriend slipped it to some other guy. But guess what, Chris? It was you he came back to, and keeps on coming back to." "So that's your big advice? Pretend nothing happened?" "Yes!" "It's not good enough!" "Then don't ask me for advice when you know goddamn well you won't take it unless it's what you want to hear!" Suddenly I was aware of the customers around us who had caught just enough of what we were saying to be interested. David used the silence between us to head out to the sales floor and get busy with as many people as he could. Karen came out of the back room with a black cloud over her head and glowered at the two of us. Great, I thought. No one's talking to anyone anymore. The hostility in the workplace lasted for days. It was the subtle kind of hostility that takes place when people have to function in proximity even when they are furious with one another. Not one extra word was spoken. What words needed to be said were edged with an icy distance. At school, David continued to sit next to me in classes, homeroom and lunch. He chatted with everyone except me, the same old Dave. I caught myself more than once looking daggers at him wondering if anyone else knew what a selfish, unreasonable bastard he was - or just how much of an unfortunate victim I was. On the other hand, I was so mad at David I forgot to treat Jamie like a dog, and even though he was grateful, it didn't keep him from shaking his head when he'd see the two of us. Jamie had no clue. One time he was standing there shaking his head, looking at me. "You know, if I didn't know what was already down there,

I'd check what you got in your shorts." I blinked, not getting it. "Check for what?" "To make sure you're really a guy, 'cuz you sure as hell sound like a woman. Christ, it might be easier sometimes if I just hooked up with one." Why not, I thought. You're hooking up with everything else. The troubles with Dave didn't last too long. He came up to me in the hall at the end of the day the next Friday and handed me a pair of scissors, a big smart ass smirk on his face. I just stared at them. "What're these for?" He never missed a beat. "For that hair you got across your ass. Snip it, and we can go back to normal." I snickered in spite of myself. Jamie came up to us in the hallway just then and I saw the look of relief when he saw us laughing together. I won't say we were buddy-buddy again, but at least we were talking, and that was a start. We were both scheduled to work Friday night and I saw David keeping a careful eye on an angry Karen who still hadn't said much more to us than she absolutely had to for the last few days. David sighed at one point and grumbled about how he'd have to make the first move again. He eyed me when he said, "Sometimes you have to let the girl think you're willing to make the first move." I didn't miss the dig, and chalked up a point for him. "But I am not letting her completely off the hook." At the end of the shift that night, after we'd both punched out, David turned to Karen as we were leaving. "Let us know when you're ready to apologize, and we'll see what we can manage. And by the way, the answer was always 'no'." ~~~~~~~~~~ Saturday. Close Friday night, open Saturday morning. It meant you had Saturday night off. Sure, you had to work on Sunday, but in Massachusetts that's time-and-a-half by law, and it was only 11:00AM to 6:00PM. But this was a special Saturday. Halloween was the following week, and that weekend there was a lot of stuff to do, and it didn't make any difference if you were gay or straight, you could have some fun and deck yourself out at the same time. Weeks ago Jamie and I had decided to hit the festivals going on over in Salem. No, not Salem, N.H. the land of strip malls and discount retail, but THE Salem, the one in Massachusetts. For some perverse reason, Salem celebrated something most cities would probably try to hide from for shame. Doesn't Salem, Massachusetts ring any bells? How about the Salem Witch Trials? Innocent people tried and convicted for sorcery in the heart of a colony founded by religious zealots who fled England in the hope of escaping religious persecution... only to turn around in the New Jerusalem and set about persecuting one another. That's how Connecticut and Rhode Island came about dissenters who couldn't take the pious crap of the Massachusetts Bay founding fathers and set out wandering on their own, leaving it to their deeply religious brethren in the North to steal land by giving trinkets to the native tribesmen, along with the blankets and personal items of small pox victims. And when they got the natives pushed back far enough, they looked for ways to cheat one another out of their land. Thus were born the Salem witch trials. Thanks to some hysterical girls claiming visions from both God and the Devil, great fortunes were broken and made, and the power of the New Jerusalem took a subtle shift. Oh, and did you know that if you were condemned as a witch, your property was confiscated and sold at public auction, usually for a pittance of its worth? And let us not forget torture. To nobly die while being Questioned was more than just nobility; it was the preservation of your estate for your children, who would be driven off your land if you were found guilty. One of the more subtle ways to question a witch was to lay a board across their bodies, and stack stones on it until - well, you either confessed to witchery and were

publicly hanged later or you remained mute until the weight of the stones crushed your chest. That way, so the reasoning went, you either flushed out an evil witch who deserved God's fury, or you helped an innocent find salvation in the arms of the Lord. You have to hand it to the religious right of almost any age; give 'em a Biblical passage and they can justify almost any kind of inhuman outrage, all in the service of God. "Suffer thou not a wizard to live..." or "For one man to lie with another is an abomination..." They've had field days with both of these. True, they don't stone or hang people any more, but when you read a paper about a fundamentalist Christian group who can attend the funeral of an AIDS victim and actually celebrate a painful death and justify that inhumanity as the execution of God's Will says something about us and our institutions. Funny, when they quote that passage from Leviticus, they never mention some of the other Abominations to God... like eating shell-fish or pork. Imagine that. Popping a sausage in my mouth can get me to hell for two different reasons. As I said, you'd think Salem would try to hide this shameful chapter, but they don't. In the spirit of the American Ethic, they embrace the horrors of another age and do what Americans do best; they make money on it. "E Pluribus Unum" or "There's a buck to be made here", it's all the same. Me? I just like Halloween, and always have. Maybe I can't race through the streets anymore hustling candy, but I can dress up and act like a fool and have fun. I love Halloween, and even though I didn't much like the facts behind the Salem festival I loved the party they threw and I'd been looking forward to it for weeks, even with all the crap about Jamie. He and I had planned for this back in September, and when Dave popped up as part of the brotherhood we included him and anyone he might be seeing. Well, unless it was Jeremy. That was understood. Costumes, though, were something else. If you don't dress for it, there's really no point for Halloween and I had been giving it a lot of thought. Jamie was being very closed mouthed about what he was going to do, but Dave and I had been huddled up and plotted together. We hit some of the party shops but didn't see anything new or interesting. David suggested making something but we hit a brick wall; neither of us could sew, and we both knew asking our mothers for help in this area was never going to work. My mother told me early that if anything I bought needed alterations, I better make arrangements where I bought them. Dave's wasn't much better. I hinted at his grandmother but David said that would be cool... as long as we didn't mind driving to New York. New York sounded pretty good but we both knew that wasn't going to work. Finally we found this costume shop that had taken over the old Woolworth's building in the old downtown. The place looked like it would be going belly-up pretty soon, but we figured they might be good for one more season, and we were right. We spent hours there one afternoon about a week before the street fair was scheduled, Jamie begging off because he hated shopping in general no matter what the reason. At least that was what he claimed... but I gotta stop going there, since I was still riding the fence about what to do with him. Of course, every time his shirt came off I looked for evidence, and I was becoming more and more confident when the marks faded and never returned. I'm not sure how long we hunted looking for just the right stuff. Dave found a Marie Antoinette rig complete with the 'do' and said it would be a natural for me. I found a red dress for him and suggested a pair of pumps that we could file the heels down on, and he didn't much like that so we got away from the drag jokes real quick. He did point out one outfit that set us both off. It was the double of the gown the Dragon Lady, "Justine", had worn at The Front Runner. "You think?" I asked. David shrugged. "It had to come from some place, and it didn't look like the kinda thing Kmart would carry." We kept on browsing when a small, thin man with sharp features appeared out of

nowhere. "Hello, my name is Michael. May I help you?" David was quick. "Yeah, Mike. Chris and I - - " He shook his head. "No, it's Michael, thank you." David blinked and reddened. "Sorry, Michael." "No problem, it's just what I prefer." "OK," I stepped in. "Well, David and I were looking for some costumes for a party. Something that sort of matched up." He looked us over carefully, as we did him, and it seemed pretty much we all arrived at the same conclusion. "Going to the bash at Friends Landing? I've got the perfect thing for two young guys like you." I blushed, wondering where my triangle was showing again. "Um, well, we're underage and we were thinking more about the street fair up in Salem." He looked us up and down and sighed. "God, I am getting bad. Anything under thirty and over sixteen all looks the same to me these days," he laughed. "Oh well. We'll have to find something different." Dave was curious. "How come? What did you have in mind?" Michael smiled, reached into a clothes rack and pulled out a red devil costume that consisted of red hose, a red bikini brief and an open mesh shirt. There was also a red half-cape and a cap with a pair of horns. A small, pointed red tail protruded from the rear and stuck up like a cat's. "You'd have looked stunning in this," he said handing it to Dave. That figured. Dave would look stunning. I expected him to pull out a troll costume for me. Instead he pulled out a bright, sky blue outfit nearly the image of the one he handed David, but with little wings on the shoulders of the mesh shirt, and the cap had a halo attached. "And you would be drop dead in this," he said handing it to me, and I decided I really liked Michael. "These things were made for a couple of guys like you. Trouble is you'd freeze your asses off at a street fair. Hey Phil!" Another figure stepped out of the back and I froze. It was Pugsley. Pugsley/Phil just smiled. "Well, nice to see you again, Chris." He turned to Michael. He had the smoothest, most precisely elegant voice you could imagine. "This is the one I told you about, at Todd and Stan's." Great, I thought. Another one of their friends. So much for a good costume. But Michael smiled. "This is Chris?" He held out his hand. "I heard all about you. Congratulations on getting one up on the little leech." He turned to David. "Phil described you rather different, though." David was confused of course. Jamie may have spilled his guts about my little trip to the hospital, but neither of us had ever brought up the other Witches' Party. "David and I are friends. Jamie's doing his own costume." Michael sighed. "God, the competition in this business. Oh well, I hope he knows what he's doing. Phil, I was saying they would look like a perfect couple in these," he said holding up the devil/angel suits. "Trouble is, they're hitting the thing over in Salem. Can we do something where they'd be warmer?" Phil nodded. "The hose is no problem, its thick enough they could wear thermal underwear, and the bikini bottoms would cover the essentials. Plenty of give in spandex after all." He stood staring at us. "I have an idea. You boys step in back and pull on the bottoms. You wearing boxers? If you are, just chuck 'em." He herded us into a small changing room. David shucked his clothes without hesitation, and I of course had to sneak a look. Great ass. Gifted other places, too. He slid the outfit on, then looked at me. "Ok, you got your free show. My turn." I was indignant. "I was not watching." David snorted. "Bullshit. I've been catching you doing that since the first time we had gym together." No sense in arguing a losing cause, so I chucked pants and shorts and pulled on the bottoms, letting David get his free look's worth before I pulled on the hose and the brief, which barely covered 'the essentials'. David nodded approval.

"Guess I know what keeps Jamie coming back." I turned the color of David's outfit and we stepped out. Michael took a look and nodded. "Perfect. Oh, and wear jock straps, with the cup. Without 'em people could count your pubes; and if, say, something very attractive walked by, everyone would know, and even with the cup I can tell you boys could broadcasting your interest. Great at the Landing, might not be such a good idea in Salem. Phil, you ready?" Phil stepped out of the rear and handed David a black and red loose-fitting shirt, handed a shiny silver one to me. Both had a pull cord that gathered at the waist. "I'll sew the wings on the shoulders later. If you guys wear thermals under these you should be fine. For the feet, just keep it simple; wear a nice looking black shoe and you should be fine. Please, I mean shoes, not athletic gear. We have matching slippers but your feet would be frost-bit in a half hour." He leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Thanks for not calling me Pugsley, hon. I always hated it." Michael smiled. "Well, that's it then. What do you guys say?" I looked at Dave. He pulled on the shirt and the cape, put on the cap cocking it to one side. It was perfect. I slipped on the rest of my gear. Michael nodded approvingly. "I want pictures," he said. "And David, you have the most perfect ass I have ever seen in a pair of briefs. And take my word, I have seen a LOT of asses in briefs." I hesitated. "Um, about money. How much." Michael sighed. "Yeah, I know. College kids, no money." "High School," David corrected. He shook his head, mumbled about poverty row and high school kids, then named a price that wasn't too bad, and added "BUT, I get to use the pictures in my brochure and on my web site. And don't worry, the web site is business. No suggestive pics or anything, just hot models like you two in good costumes." Philip snickered. "Yeah, but I guarantee you guys'll have a blow up in his bedroom." I nodded to Dave and the deal was done. "Okay boys, come back tomorrow and the wings will be done and we'll pose you guys, and it'll be both ways - the full shirts and the mesh things, too. And I'm gonna want you to wear these two little nipple rings - no don't freak out, they're like a clip on thing, just for effect." I liked the idea, but Michael shook his head. "No offense, you're a little bony and you look too young. It'll come off like kiddy porn. Just David." Damn. All in all, a great deal and good costumes, cheap. I put my troubles in the back of my mind looking forward to Saturday night. ~~~~~~~~~~~ We changed up at my house after work, but when David showed up he had a little surprise. Well, little in the fact that he was shorter and younger than me. "This is Alan Curran, he'll be coming with us. Any problem?" I looked at the kid. Shorter than me and just as skinny, but with this real nervous look about him, almost like he was scared I would refuse to have him along. When I held out my hand he seemed almost afraid to touch it, and when he did I could feel a quiver in his touch. "No problems, why should there be? Hi, Alan." His voice shook almost as much as he did but he managed a quick "Hi." His eyes weren't shifty, but they had a hooded look to them, almost like he was afraid of direct contact. He seemed terrified of me. David nudged him. "Stop shaking. Chris doesn't bite unless it's somewhere you like being bitten." Both of us got red at that, but at least Alan smiled which is what David wanted after all. "Okay, just so we are all on target here and no one has to wonder. Alan knows we're both gay and that Jamie is your boyfriend. I called Jamie and told him all about Alan first, so don't worry, Chris."

I sniffed, pulling the blue hose over my snug thermals. "Gee, nice of you to give Jamie the option," I said sarcastically. David stood there adjusting his tail, his horned cap pushed to one side of his head. "Hey, he's not blind. One look and he could spot a seven - I mean a six just like everyone else." I narrowed my eyes looking at him. "Bring up that damn test one more time and I'll get my revenge, just like last time." "No chance, I got Mr. Rugged here to protect me," he said, gesturing with his chin to Alan, who seemed to be relaxing, and was very interested in us changing clothes. "Anyway, Alan says he's at least bi, although he has only had sex with a guy a couple times and liked it. He just isn't sure 'cuz he hasn't tried the Other Side yet." I looked at the kid, and I could see him flinch, but he seemed satisfied that David wasn't gonna go into any more details. A look from Dave told me I shouldn't ask questions, at least for now. There was a lot more there, I could tell. I snorted. "Like you would know anything about that." David never even bothered to look up as he adjusted his shirt tail. "Hey, I caught a ride on the tuna boat once. I just jumped ship after the race. Not all of us popped out eyeing baskets." I tossed a trainer at him. Alan was grinning ear to ear as he watched us, and for once he didn't seem to be shaking. "Got any costume Alan? Or you just gonna go with us as the token straight guy?" He held up a shopping bag. "Didn't have time to get much, David called like an hour and a half ago and said he was coming to get me. We stopped on the way and this was about all anyone had." He pulled out a plastic bag and I could see a Scream mask. Scream 3 was hitting it big on cable just then so it had a revival in the store costume sections. I looked at David. An hour and a half ago meant he called from work. David never said a word about a date or a friend tagging along. The looks he had given me told me there was a lot more story to this. I wondered if he was dating this kid or something... "Jesus, next to you guys I'm gonna look like a joke," he said as we stood there in full costume. "Man, do you guys ever look hot!" I just smiled, thinking there was probably a lot less bi about him than he thought. His eyes were practically bulging out of his sockets as he looked us over. David set his devil cap over to the left again, gathered up his cape so his tail could show. I set my halo on dead square in the mirror. I tried to hide the wings but David would have none of that and settled my blue cape neatly between the feathers. "We're Ying and Yang, C. Don't hide it tonight." The parent thing was next, and both of them roared at the sight of us. My father looked at me and started up on "Wow, check out the little -" and I could see his lips forming the letter 'f' when I heard my mother's low growl "Rolly," and she elbowed him in the gut. This is mom's subtle way of telling dad he's about to say something he'll regret later. We made good time crossing town to Jamie's, and when we got there it was Lauren who threw the door open and cracked up when she saw my wings. Then David stepped into the light, and she took him in. I watched her eyes widen and bulge. She turned to me with this lost look on her face. "Chris? Are any of the cute ones at Haverhill High straight?" Jamie made his entrance. Alan saw him first and his jaw fell open. The main part of his costume was a black wet suit, which would keep him from freezing in the October night and would play off his body just right. Jamie may have quit sports, but he never stopped working out and it showed. Broad chest, narrow waist, hugged by that black material, etching out every muscle and curve on his body. Something silvery had been attached to the front to conceal the zipper. His feet were clad in what had once been cowboy boots, the toes

narrowing and pointed, and through time and lack of use had curved upwards. These were spray painted in a metallic silver, small metal rings attached to the toes for God knew what reason, but at least they weren't bells. Covering the crotch was a bathing suit made from a shimmery silver gray material, cut higher than a Speedo or the bikini briefs Dave and I were wearing but every bit as revealing. A closer check also told me Jamie had decided against a jock strap, or at least a cup. Alan seemed very interested when he looked there, and so was Dave, the perverts. Cinched around his waist was a scabbard complete with sword, which I knew to be from a Knights of Columbus outfit. The handle was ornate, false jewels set in, but silver tassels had been tied to it in place of the usual red and purple. On his chest were layers of 'silver' chains, one I recognized as the one he usually wore, but the others were so large and heavy I wondered what hardware store they had come from. In the center of his chest was a large pentacle - not a pentagram, mind you - something I had seen him eyeing back at the flea market in Newburyport two months ago, but never knew he bought. Like much of the metal hanging off him, it looked silver but probably wasn't. The hands were great. Covered with a heavy black makeup, then sprinkled with multi-color glitter, and long talon-like fingernails painted in a silver gloss. His face wasn't much different - the black make-up again, more glitter to lend it effect, and his features etched out in white so they would show better, traces of extra lines at the eyes to give them a slanted look. A white lip-gloss had been applied. His eyebrows were painted out in the same silver hair spray that had been used on his hair, the kind you see on old ladies. Great Spockian pointed ears had been attached to him and covered with the make-up. Crowning it all was a green ivy wreath pinned to his hair to keep it from shifting, small red berries fitted in here and there. I squinted and saw that the crown was the plastic holly looted from some Christmas decorations. "Don't forget this," Lauren added and draped a Bella Lugosi style cape over his shoulders, complete with high collar and red lining. She used two metal clips with a small stretch of chain to hold it all together and stepped back in triumph. "I did the make-up and most of the other decorative stuff. What do you guys think?" she asked, fishing for compliments. "Too cool," said Alan. "But who's he supposed to be?" Jamie struck an exaggerated model's pose, taloned hand outstretched and the other draped over the hilt of his sword." "Behold," he said grandly. "I am Oberon, Lord of the Dark Mists, and King of the Fairies." The only sound was Lauren, snickering in the background. Then Jeanette Cayman stuck her head out of the living room, taking in all of us, and especially Jamie. "Lauren did a good job on my make-up, huh?" "Yes, she did," Jeanette said, almost shaking with the held back laughter. "God, she went all out with that black makeup. I hope she laid in a good cold-cream base for you, or you'll be scraping your skin off to get rid of that stuff." Jamie looked confused when Lauren jumped in. "Hey, you guys better get going. Salem's still a haul." "Not till I get pictures," Jeanette said and went looking for the camera. She got us all in groups and in pairs and singles, in every pose she could think of. Outside we worked out that we had to go in Jamie's car because he wouldn't fit in Dave's Jetta, but Dave or I would have to drive because Jamie was afraid of breaking a nail. "Isn't that Chris' line?" he asked innocently, as any demon would. Jamie and I sat in the back since Dave would have to pull up the seat. I slid in close, but I had to be careful not to rub his skin or I'd get the black make-up on me. We were a few miles out of Haverhill and onto 114 headed for Salem when David started coaxing Alan to sit next to him. Alan turned and looked at us

sitting together and smiled. The poor kid had been scared out of his mind earlier, and had almost jumped out of his skin when Lauren made her remark about straight guys but he was starting to unwind. No one would ever call Alan's bony face pretty, but he had a nice smile when he let it come up, and his soft brown eyes had that cuddly puppy look. Not that he was bad looking really, but somehow you didn't think of him in terms of being in David's league. But when he slid in closer to David and Dave slung an arm over his shoulder he turned his face to Dave and he radiated something. Alan was in love, and I hoped for his sake that David wasn't going to treat him like another Jeremy. I don't think this kid could have taken being treated like a toy. There was something... almost fragile about him. I didn't even know the guy, but I felt protective about him. We made good time to Peabody before the lights and traffic caught up with us, and then the road narrows abruptly after you pass the North Shore Shopping Center so that slowed us down. A car was in the lane next to us and they braked to get a better look. David waved and tilted his devil cap, Jamie made faces and flashed his claws at them, and the guys were having a good laugh for themselves looking at us, or at least David and Jamie. Then Alan leaned around David to see them, and the other guys saw it was a boy cuddled up with Dave and their expressions changed. The window went down and I saw something headed our way when David's side window spidered and shattered. David swerved wildly for a second but regained control quickly. The car, an old Celebrity that might have been gold once roared through a light and disappeared into the night. "Don't worry about it," Jamie said. David was fuming, and Alan had skittered to the other side of the seat. "We have to report it." "Right, and spend all night at the police station. My insurance covers glass 100%. I'll tell 'em it happened over-night in Haverhill, and that'll be all." "I want to get those guys," David muttered. "All we know is they drive a beat up Chevy Celebrity, no tags or nothing unless you caught 'em. No point, so forget it." David looked over to Alan on the far side. "'Sup baby? Why you way over there?" Alan had that hangdog look on his face. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't leaned over, they'd have just passed by." "Bullshit. They're just assholes, and you got nothin' to be ashamed about. You were sitting next to me like that because we both wanted to. You can't help it if they're jerks. So, if you want, I'd like to have you next to me." Alan smiled again and slid over. David ruffled his hair and the kid leaned against his shoulder. They stayed like that till we parked the car in the lot near Salem Centre. We hit the bricks - literally, 'cuz that's what the sidewalks are made of - and got our first real look at what happens when Halloween goes mad. The streets were lit with Jack-o-Lanterns and black and orange crepe was everywhere. Witches were hidden in trees, suspended on broomsticks between buildings, and lurking in dark alleys. Scarecrows hung in doorways, and headless horsemen were propped in storefronts. Good Christians handed out pamphlets condemning the Devil's Festival, peaceful Wiccans walked about in full regalia wishing folk "Blessed be", and dismissed the Christians and their corrupted ideas of the Eve of the Feast of Samhain. Devil worshippers tried to call themselves Wiccans, but in their garish version of punk/Goth they just looked foolish and out of place, even for Halloween. Everyone else ran around being eight year olds in garish costumes, no matter what their real age. The Wiccans took to Jamie when they saw the crown and the pentacle. They knew he was just a guy having some fun, but they called him Lord anyway, and laughed with him. David and I got plenty of laughs and looks too, and the three of us were a hit with kids who begged their parents to take pictures with us. We mugged and hogged as much camera time as we could. Alan was along for the ride

in his Scream costume, but he knew it anyway and still had fun. At least he didn't stand out, there were dozens of Scream phantoms everywhere you looked. Vendors all tried to keep Jamie hanging around their booths since he attracted customers; and Jamie was happily indulging his passion, collecting junk at special bargain prices. A tall, willowy blond girl in a white gown hailed him as Master, and called herself Galadrial. She made a play for Jamie, and I know for a fact she copped a feel. Alan did, too. "Damn," he said quietly to me. "I thought for sure that was a pair of socks just for effect." "Nope, that's my Jamie," I said happily. "Too true, dude. Socks don't get hardons." He looked me over. "Do you, like, ache after?" I turned the color of David's hose and was thankful for the attentions of two eight year olds who wanted to play with the angel. David walked up and then they couldn't get enough of the handsome devil. Their mother's snapped away and thanked us after. David looked around. "Where did Big Jay go?" "I dunno. Lost in the mob somewhere," I answered. "Kinda hard to loose a six foot two pixie." "Fairy," Alan corrected. "Don't be judgmental; he can't help being a big fairy when he goes out with a poof." I gave him a swift kick in the shins. David muttered something in Italian and rubbed his leg. Alan looked up. "Cool, they got a fried dough stand over there and I'm starvin'. You guys want anything?" David affected a sneer. "You're gonna get fat." Alan was backing away with a happy smile on his small face. "I gotta gain ten pounds to look anorexic." Then he pulled his mask down and dog trotted across the crowded plaza. I looked over at David, who was still watching Alan's retreat. "Someone's got it bad," I said to him. I expected David to blow me off but he didn't. "He's really kinda cute, and wicked nice. Not much to look at but I don't care." I got a little braver. "So are you and him... You know what I mean." David raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Not yet. I've known him about a year and a half now, but we never got together until maybe a week ago. He just lives over in Methuen, close to the Loop." I shook my head. "Jesus, you and your net-meets. One day you're gonna get your head handed to you." David shrugged. "Like you should throw stones... Okay, yeah, I know you're right and I'm sorry. He's only the second one, and like I said I've been chatting with him way over a year now. He's had it rough." He looked me in the eyes and dropped his voice. "Don't say anything, but he got outed at school and it's been tough on him." I nodded. "What happened?" David leaned into me. "He had a thing going with some kid for a couple months when he was a freshman, then one day the guy says hey, no more of that stuff. I mean, that's cool, the guy wasn't into it anymore, and Alan says okay. Then the guy suddenly doesn't want Alan around at all anymore, and Alan lets him go even as a friend. Then all of a sudden he's blabbing around about how Alan's always working on him and wants to get the kid off all the time. Bang. Alan's quiet and mousy to begin with, so everyone takes this jerk's word and Alan's the class queer. He gets pounded on all the time. Christ, you should see his back." "What about his family?" David shook his head. "He won't tell anyone, he's scared they'll find out about him. And the guys at school are smart enough not to hit him where it'll show.

Even when a teacher steps in he won't say anything because he's so scared." "Why's he so scared of his parents? I mean, I'm not out and it'll probably be messy, but it won't be that bad." "I don't... oh, shit." I saw the change in David's face as he looked past me, and I followed his gaze. Crowds have a movement and a flow, and suddenly it had shifted and the street was clear. I saw Jamie. He had his hand out, holding the arm of some guy close to his own height if I could judge his build. It was difficult to tell, the guy was in a long blue robe, the same cheap shimmery material they used to make Alan's costume. Then Jamie's hands came up and gripped the guy's shoulders, just like he did to me at school. The other boy pulled him into an embrace, a long one. Then they separated, and I saw him slip a piece of paper to Jamie, who tucked it into the waist of his briefs. The crowd shifted again, and we lost sight of them. Then a Scream ghoul slipped out of the mass and raced away. His mask was down, but I saw him clutching a fried doe, and he was the right height. He spotted us, saw where we were looking, and hesitated. "ALAN!" He pushed up the mask again and slowly walked over, trying to smile. I put an arm on his shoulder. "You saw something over there, and I think you heard something. Please tell me." Alan looked uncomfortable, and his eyes wouldn't fix on me. He didn't want to lie but I knew he didn't want to tell, either. "It's important, Alan. Tell him. Please." David rubbed the younger guy's back. "Okay," Alan began reluctantly. "I only caught a little bit, I guess Jamie didn't realize it was me. I mean, there are a lot of us out tonight in this suit. But, well... I only heard a little before they hugged. He said something about how he never thought he'd see him again and he couldn't wait to get together. They're gonna meet next Saturday. The slip of paper... it's the guy's phone number and address. I yanked my mask down and cleared out after that." I nodded. My eyes narrowed into slits, and my lips weren't much wider. I looked around for Jamie, but I couldn't spot him in the crowd. Bitterly I wondered if he and his old boyfriend were in an alley somewhere, getting re-acquainted. "Did you hear a name or anything?" David asked. Alan shook his head. "No, I didn't catch it. Jamie's voice is so low it was hard to hear much with the crowd." He looked over at me, then down to the ground. "I'm sorry, Chris." One thing I like when you meet someone who's littler than you, even if it isn't by much. You don't feel funny when you pull them close and slip an arm over their shoulders. I felt a little like I had a younger brother I was taking care of. "You got nothing to be sorry for, Alan. You just answered a big question for me, one I've been avoiding for weeks now. You just helped me find my way." David was shaking his head. "Chris, don't jump in yet. There's still a chance... and you owe it to yourself to dig a little for the truth." I snorted. "Dig? I can't dig, Davey," I said hotly. "I just got a boulder dropped on my head. I'm just a splat on the mat now." We must have looked a sight there, a triangle of devil, angel and ghoul facing off at one another. Part of me wanted to cry, but another part of me was deadly calm. It was like that morning in my bedroom, when I used sex as a weapon on Jamie. I'd use a weapon on him this time, but it wouldn't be what was between my legs or anything as gentle as a club. This time I was going to use the truth, and I'd beat him with it till he couldn't take it any more and crawled away from me in shame. I was going to make his life hell. David's voice was a gentle breeze in my ear. "Come down, Chris. Don't jump in yet. It could be something else, and this time we'll prove it before you break something you'll never be able to fix." I glared at him for being reasonable, and I hated him for it. "How the fuck'll we do that?"

"We follow him, and get the full story, and then you - not we - face him with it and take it from there. Just make sure you know everything before you act." "Hey guys! I hear they got some great bands out by the Willows! Let's hike up and hear the music!" Jamie stood there with his bag of junk, teeth shining and bright blue eyes flashing. He looked so happy, so damn decent... for a snake. My Lord Oberon, King of Faerie and Serpents, the Master of Deception so at home on All-Hallows Eve. That small, gentle voice in my ear said, "Make sure you know the truth first." I forced a smile, tried to look relaxed, and fixed my halo full and square, drawing up my cape over my arm, and walked quietly beside my dark knight. David and Alan walked just ahead of us, and even in the mood I was in I had to laugh at the little pointed tail that seemed to grow out of David's back side. I noticed for the first time that he actually, well, sashayed when he walked. And I was the seven? "You okay, baby?" Jamie whispered into my ear. I had to swallow hard to keep my voice sweet. "Yeah, hon, just the cold is getting to me some. We'll have to be leaving soon, all right?" "Yup," he said happily. "It's been a real sweet night. I love this stuff." We listened to the bands for a while, and I could tell David and Alan were getting cold, too. I knew they wanted to hold hands or something. We agreed to leave and again David and Alan led the way, so they could talk privately. Jamie chattered happily, and I made all the right sounds. When we got to the parking lot, we were trailing the new couple by a good distance, giving them some privacy. Then two figures stepped out of the darkness. It didn't take much to see they were more than a little drunk. "I told ya. It's the fags from the highway - I knew it was the car. You two cuties have a nice date? Hey, how's about doin' yourself a favor and takin' care of two real guys?" I watched Jamie bound across the lot. They don't do justice in the Batman comics to the way a cape furls out in the breeze; it's quite a sight. A better sight was the faces of the two guys when they saw a pissed off Demon Lord suddenly falling on them and slamming them into the windows of their car. They slid to the ground, their eyes bugging out. I've seen Jamie when he twists his face up in anger. It isn't a pretty sight when you're sitting on the ground; I remembered that from Seabrook. One eye squinted, and the other widened with an upward eyebrow. His bright white teeth against the black make-up must have seemed deadly. It must have looked even worse when he pulled his Knights of Columbus sword slowly out of its scabbard. Those two had no idea it was blunted and hollow. If he hit them with it, it would bend. The handle was another matter, and had some weight to it, which Jamie demonstrated when he put it through the rear window of their Celebrity. "I guess that settles the glass bill. Remember me? I'm the queer from the back seat." I watched one, so scared you could see the dark stain forming in the front of his pants. "Gotta watch out for us fags, guys," Jamie said with a menacing leer, peering down at them. "Never know when one of us wussy homos might decide to ram something up your ass," he said brandishing the sword. "Now, get into that piece of crap and get out of here." They scrambled into their car, and the engine caught right away. The one with the wet jeans drove and he slammed into reverse at full rev, and I guess he didn't see the low-hung stone wall behind the car. He slammed into it with a pleasant crunch, and we were rewarded by the sound of a broken exhaust system, and the sight of the sparks from the muffler dragging on the ground. He turned as the sound of their exhaust trailed off into the night, and flashed us all a big smile.

The drive home was quiet. Jamie unzipped the front of his wet suit, settled into a corner and dozed. In spite of what I felt earlier, I leaned in against him. Alan was tight next to David, whose arm was around the smaller boy's shoulders again. Help me, David, I thought. Help me prove it's something else. And thanks for keeping me from doing something I might regret. The witch town disappeared behind us.

Chapter 8

"After the Fox"

I stood there in the driveway, just looking. Bright yellow - not taxi bright yellow, nothing that garish, but yellow nonetheless. White roof. And a convertible. I looked at Dave with my lips mushed up, squinting at him. "Are you outta your fuckin' mind?" David stood there with his hands jammed in his pockets, rocking on his heels, his tongue jammed up in the corner of his right cheek. He shrugged. "We both said followin' Jamie was the best bet. He'd spot either of our cars or even our parents' cars in a second. This is the best I could do." I shook my head. "It's even got vanity plates - 'LUIGI-S'. Who the hell is Luigi?" "My Uncle Lou. It's really Louis, but that was taken at the Registry, so he settled for Luigi. It's just Italian for the same name. And the S is for..." "Yeah, yeah. Sciuoto. I get it." I stood back again and took in the car. I mean, it was nice looking and all, but hardly what you would think of to shadow someone though the streets. A fully restored 1972 Cadillac Seville: eight hungry cylinders. It was the last of the Detroit dinosaurs, at least until people started going nuts for the SUVs. Nice looking car; I could see the leather seats and (for its day) the incredible innovations of the beast, like front-wheel drive and an AM/FM radio with a funny slot in it. Way too big for a cassette. It looked like it would take the six-pack cartridge for my dad's old Pioneer CD player, but when this thing was made no one had ever heard of a CD. Hell, stereo FM was still an innovation. "What's that thing for?" I asked, pointing at the dashboard. "The big slot in the radio?" "Uncle Lou said it was an 8-track player. They stopped makin' 'em years ago, but he left it in 'cuz it was original equipment. He does have this adapter thingy that lets you play cassettes, though." He pointed out a long, flat thing about an inch thick with a flip top lying on the car seat. I stood there, scratching myself again. I'd developed some sort of rash the last few days and it was starting to really bug me. "So, like, what does your uncle do for a living? Pimp?" Dave's voice was sort of vague. "Umm - well, lets just say it's... a family business." I looked at him, forming a question. Dave was tapping the side of his nose and then pushed it off to one side like it was broken. My eyes widened. My voice got very high. "Family?" Dave crossed his arms and gave me a nasty look. "Look, don't give me any of that 'Luca Brazzi sleeps wit' da fishes' crap. It's a family business, one my grandfather started. He runs a salvage yard in Everett, for chrissake! And he

likes to restore old cars. That's it. Mingya - use a word like 'family' and you guys are all over an Italian." I rolled my eyes and tapped my foot. "Don't get all pissy on me. You're the one that said 'family' and flattened your nose." David eyed me. "I didn't flatten my nose, I rubbed it 'cuz it itched. Speaking of itches, what's with you? You been pawing your crotch since you got here. You watchin' Eminem videos again?" I shrugged. "Some kinda rash, I guess. Doesn't matter. So... you're serious, then. You want to follow Jamie in this thing?" Dave shrugged. "It's called beggars and choosers, dude. No way the old man'll let me touch his BMW or mom's Lexus. So I called Uncle Lou, asked if I could borrow one of his junks. I figured he'd let me use one of his little pick-ups, but he hands me the keys to the Caddy and says 'don't hit nothin'. He said I can keep it till Monday, but I figure it's best to get it back as soon as we're done. Not likely Jamie'll swing by my place, but it wouldn't do to have it sittin' around too long. It kinda stands out." I smirked. "Yeah... kinda stands out. So, we drive back to Everett after?" Everett was one of the cities that made up the Metro Boston area. Small city, densely populated, and kinda... well, not the best place to live. David snorted. "Hell, no. Lou lives in Andover. We can pick up my Jetta there." Dad's BMW, mom's Lexus. And the junkyard guy lives in Andover... where their idea of low-income housing starts around the half-million buck mark. Once again I wondered what the hell David was doing in a public school, and working a part-time job at Border's. "Okay, so how do we work this? Just park at the end of Jamie's block and tail him?" David shook his head. "Nope - too easy to spot us. Jamie already begged off comin' over tomorrow morning, right?" I nodded glumly. "Yeah, says he's got to help his brother with something, which I know is bullshit 'cuz I called the Salisbury PD and they say Officer Cayman is workin' the day shift tomorrow. I gotta believe he's making his move with that guy then, 'cuz he also knows my mom and dad are goin' off for the day and we haven't been able to do anything since Sunday." Dave gave me a withering look. "You're pissed at the guy, but you're still doing it with him. Unbelievable." He shook his head in disbelief and gave me a look of contempt. The blood rushed to my face and I felt myself getting flushed. I wasn't proud of it, but I did convince myself that what I was doing was giving Jamie a reason to think twice about having to play around on the side. I sighed. "Look, it's either Jamie or my hand. Besides, I can't tip him off, right? He's got to think everything is okay between us. And I have never said 'no'," I added emphatically. "He's still my boyfriend, even if he's on probation." Dave and I had planned to trail Jamie then, but on the Monday after the street fair he told me he was going out to U-Mass Amherst the following weekend to check out the campus. He'd be staying with his cousin Michelle, so I figured he'd be safe. He'd shown up at my door Sunday afternoon, and one thing lead to another, and... David grimaced. "More like personal recognizance 'til the case goes to court. Okay, okay - I'm not gonna badger you about it." I was thankful he didn't bring up calling Ken again. I'd thought about it thought about it a lot. I even closed my eyes with Jamie and pictured Ken's long hair hanging down in my face, me nibbling the ends while he... Uh, oh. That thinking was going to get me in trouble. I could feel something stirring. Think of chemistry. No, better: think of having dinner with my sister and her husband... yeah, that did it - things quieted right down. "So, how are we gonna manage this thing? I asked. "Just park at the end of the

block and wait for him to come out?" "Not exactly, but close. I'm gonna have Alan in his mom's Escort at the end of his block - less chance of him bein' spotted than either of us. Jamie hardly knows him and never saw the car. Alan's gonna call us on a cell I'll lend him. We'll tag-team Jamie and see where he goes. Less chance of being spotted that way, especially in this boat." Talk about your shocks! "Alan? Alan has a license?" Dave shrugged. "Sure, why not? He's seventeen." Now my jaw dropped. "Alan's seventeen? Damn, I thought he was, like, fifteen or something. He gave me an evil grin. "Do I look like a child molester? He turned seventeen the end of summer, right after Labor Day and took his test. He's good behind a wheel, and quick," he added pointedly, giving me a side-wise look. "Not like some people I know who spend all their time huggin' the Granny Lane on the highway." "Hey, I'm careful, that's all," I protested. "And not everyone has a new car. My Tercel's got 150 grand on it and I can't push it. Besides, you're one of the reasons people from out of state call us 'Massholes' on the road." That was the truth. David would race you the hundred yards to the next stoplight, just to cut you off. He was a natural for Boston traffic. "Dammit, this itch is killing me," I grimaced, shoving my hand deeper into my groin. "Don't scratch it so much, then. It'll only make the rash worse. When did that start, anyway?" I thought about it. "Monday or Tuesday, I guess. Wasn't bad at first, but now it's getting to me. So, what time do we meet tomorrow?" David gave me a thoughtful look, and I think I saw the beginnings of a smile, but he killed it and looked away when he answered. "I know it sounds like cruel and unusual punishment, but I figure around six we should meet and get it all set up. I'll pick you up at your place." "Six? On a Saturday? You're OUT of your MIND!" "Look, we can't risk missing Jamie on the move; he has to work Saturday afternoon, just like us, and he's working tonight, right? Whatever he intends to do, it'll be Saturday, just because he's had no time to do anything else all week. Plus, he lied to you about being busy with Paul in the morning. That's a dead giveaway. And you always tell me Jamie likes to take his time when he plays, right?" I blushed my answer. "Okay. So we start early and get ourselves into position. I doubt he'll make a move until like seven or something, but we have to be ready. The two cars'll trade off tailing him so he doesn't get wise, especially with this thing, and we find out just where he goes." "Then what?" Dave wrinkled up his face and shot me a glance. His voice had gone from the little boy planning an adventure to a tired, soft tone. "That's up to you, C. That's totally your call." I looked away, and I sensed that Dave had dropped his eyes to the ground. I knew what I should do if I caught him cheating, but I wasn't at all sure that I would do it. Part of me still wanted to believe that it was all just a misunderstanding. I shivered for a moment. I suddenly felt very cold. "Jesus, stop scratching!" he warned. "We better go inside." "Yeah," I answered. "Don't know why, but the itch gets worse in the cold. Jesus, I hate November." I followed Dave up the walk and into his house. Not exactly an estate house, but it wasn't your typical development colonial saltbox or ranch, either. This place was big, spacious, and had 'custom job' all over it. It was very contemporary, inside and out; the only thing that seemed out of place was the pink marble

floor in the foyer and the Oriental rug. David saw me eyeing it and shrugged. "We're Italian, remember? Mom's pretty good, but dad pitched a bitch and wanted it. She caved and just covered it with rugs. I remember he wanted a lot of red and gold, but she just talked to the decorator, so the place is livable." "It really is nice, but, you know..." David sighed. "Yeah, I know, typical Italian building his old-country palazzo. But I bet your family's got a Bathtub Mary over in Three River, Frenchy, so I wouldn't talk." I snickered. 'Three River' was the old French Canadian neighborhood, and pronounced 'Tree riv-ER' the way the older Quebecois would say it. Neat rows of triple-decker tenement houses, with large, neatly landscaped yards. French Canadians in Haverhill pioneered lawn ornaments, I think. Drive through what's left of it and you'll see all sorts of decorative windmills and fat ladies bending over a garden plot. The worst of them had a plaster donkey pulling a cart. But they also had a lot of religious shrines, too. The most popular was the Virgin Mary standing in what was supposed to be a grotto, but always looked like an oyster shell. I didn't know what that particular shrine was really called (I don't think anybody did), but most of us called it Mary on the Half Shell. We French Canadians are noted for our thrift, too, and when my father was a kid, a lot of their parents were modernizing their bathrooms. A glut of claw-footed cast iron bath tubs that no one wanted found themselves buried halfway in the ground, and a cheap statue of Mary was slipped inside. Bath Tub Mary had found her place in the history of Haverhill, and many a family thought they'd found a bargain way of scoring points with God. Plastic flower arrangements were put out year round. My grandmother still had my father over at Christmas to string lights on hers. He shuddered every time he saw it. At least he won the round about the Lawn Jockey at the end of the driveway. "How come you built in Haverhill?" I asked, running my hand over the smooth, ornate marble border on the wall. "Why not over the New Hampshire border, land of the no-income-tax election pledge?" Dave shrugged. "I asked that once. Dad said you had to be crazy to do that. His law practice is still in Massachusetts, so he still pays the income tax. Plus, the property taxes up there are out-fucking-rageous, and no services whatever. It's the only way they can pay for the school system, since the state never has any money. It all works out worse than anything in Mass. It's the same reason he wouldn't build in Andover or North Andover - big taxes, over-priced land, and nothing but a fancier address to show for it." "At least their school's ain't ready to lose their accreditation, like Haverhill." "Haverhill's smarter than Lawrence. They'll fix everything before the state steps in like they had to there. Besides, Haverhill High isn't that bad if you do the work, and I don't really mind the work." I looked around. I'm no expert, and my parents buy nice stuff, but we couldn't touch the furnishings I saw around us. "Why not Central Catholic, or St. John's, or even Austin Prep? Your dad's a lawyer - you guys could swing it. Hell, mine could." We were headed up to Dave's room on the second floor. I liked his room, but I always felt nervous there. Everything was so neat, so ordered. Hell, even Dave's books were categorized and alphabetized in the cases. Same with the CDs. It looked like a picture in a magazine. You didn't have to look under the bed to know his clothes wouldn't be there. And if you looked in his closet, everything was laid out in a color code, starting with shirts and ending with a tie and belt rack. Yeah - ties. I tried to remember the last time I'd worn one since I got out of All Saints Parochial, and came up with my grandfather's funeral and my sister's wedding - and both of those were only after an argument. Dave flopped on the bed with his legs hanging over the side and I dropped beside

him. "Screw the snob schools." "Central and Austin are hardly snob schools." "No, but I just didn't want to go the private school route. They weren't happy about it, but I think my dad understood. Mom still gripes. 'I don't want you hangin' out with trash!' Hell, it was good enough for her. Why can't it be good enough for me?" I wondered if I qualified as trash to Mrs. Sciuoto but didn't ask. She'd been nice enough to me when I met her, so I couldn't complain. Actually, she seemed happy. From what I got, David never brought anyone home with him before. She treated me like a prince. Mr. Sciuoto was pretty cool, too. "Damn, that itch." David sat up on the edge of the bed. He had a funny look on his face and pointed at my pants, "That does it. Drop 'em." I sat bolt upright. "Hey!" He shook his head. "It's not anything like that. Now, drop 'em. Skivvies, too. If you don't, I'll just tear 'em off you." I fumbled nervously with my belt, eased down the zipper and undid the clasp and let them drop. I tucked my thumbs into my Hilfigers and "You're not up to anything... you know - funny... are you?" I asked suspiciously. Dave shook his head. "No. I am dead serious about my sex. Now, get 'em down. It's not like I never seen it before." I blushed when I slid them down and my boxers joined my pants around my ankles. I really blushed when he dropped to his knees in front of me. Oh Jesus, and the door was open. Thank Christ no one was home. I felt his fingers probing in my pubes, and of course... David 'tsked' me. "Don't take much, huh?" "Wise ass. Feel a hand in your short fuzzies and what would you do?" "The same thing." He lifted and moved things to one side, then rocked back on his heels looking up at me with a leer. "Damn, this would have been sooo nice last summer. I had a couple sessions that started off just like this." "Sessions?" He closed his hand into a fist, jerking it up and down. Then he got up and walked to his bathroom and I heard the water running. He came back into the room drying his hands and pulled a trash bag out of his desk drawer. He rummaged in the back of a dresser drawer and pulled out a bottle. "Pull em up, but don't bother hitchin' anything. Go into the bathroom, take everything off, drop 'em in this bag, and get into the shower. Read the directions on the back of the bottle and shampoo your crotch. Pits, too. No chest hair or any trail to speak of, so you'll be all right on that score." I stumbled, David pushing me forward into the bathroom. "What is this?" I protested "What are you gonna do with my clothes?" David was actually giggling now. "Wash 'em in disinfectant, buddy. Just like you're gonna do to all your bedding and all your clothes when you get home tonight. You do your own laundry?" I nodded as I pulled my shirt off and tossed it by the sink. David picked it up with two fingers and held it at arms length, and dropped it onto the bag. "Good. So've I since my stones dropped and saw the smirk on mom's face when she checked my stuff. Your parents got a master bath, right? They don't use the same shower? Good, scrub everything down when you get home. And wash everything." He shoved me into the shower and dropped the bottle into my hand. My clothes were safe in the bag. "I'll call Karen and tell her you had some kind of emergency and won't be in tonight. She'll piss and moan, but the hell with her." I stood in the shower stall, looking down at the bottle in my hand. Something called Rid. "What's this for?" "Crotch Crickets, baby. You done got yourself a case of the crabs."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was a hell of a Friday night. After I left Dave's, I slunk into the house, hoping my parents would do what they usually did on a Friday when I was working, or was supposed to be working meet after work some place, have dinner, and then go out to some friends' of theirs to play cards. My luck held as I tore through my room, stripping my bed and gathering up everything I had worn for the last week. I wished the washer had a "Boil" selection, but settled for hot, at least for the whites and lights. I dumped in disinfectant. Each full load got done twice. In between, I scrubbed down the bathroom like it had never been scrubbed before. When my parents remodeled the house after my sister moved - creating a full suite for themselves by combining their old room and my sister's and constructing their own private 'dream bath' - basically they never used the original bath again. The half-bath and laundry room combo on the first floor took care of most casual needs until bedtime. It didn't open onto my room, but for all practical purposes it was mine. I scrubbed it down from the tops of the walls to the old tile floor. Overkill? Maybe. But the last thing I wanted to explain to my parents was the presence of "critters" hopping around the place. After that, I broke out a can of special spray to kill my 'friends' and their eggs by spraying my mattress and my rugs and anything else I couldn't jam into the washer. I debated about the living room couch and rug; I hadn't been down there much during the week, and when I was, I was fully dressed. Still, I gave the room the once over. Afterwards I sprayed everything with a can of air freshener to kill the smell of the de-louser. After that I opened the front door to tone down the stench of the air freshener. I didn't sleep in my bed that night, although I made it up. I slept sitting up in a chair I hadn't seen in months, since it's typically where most of my clothes wind up. And all the while, I cursed Jamie. I cursed him for being a slut and a liar. I cursed him just for existing. I cursed him for being part of my life. How the hell could he not know that he had brought home some 'friends' a week later? He never said a word, and I couldn't remember him scratching, even. He'd visited the U-Mass Amherst campus the previous weekend in the far western part of the state, claiming he was going to stay with his cousin Michelle, checking the place out since it was on his choice of colleges. That was the reason Dave and I couldn't check-up on him the week before. He'd made the arrangements to take the weekend off from work a month ago, so I didn't really worry. I remembered vaguely having met a Michelle at Haverhill High, and hearing that she was supposed to be Jamie Levesque's cousin. I had a blurry vision of light-brown hair and faded blue eyes, but that was it. Maybe I was a little suspicious, but I had written it off once I'd had Dave call the Clayman house Friday evening after I knew that Jamie had left, and Phil told him Jamie was visiting his cousin Michelle in Amherst. Guess he just didn't visit that much. I wanted Jamie Levesque tied to four horses pointing in different directions, then a whip cracked across their hindquarters. No, wait; make that five horses. One for each arm and leg. And another for his dick! Once everything was washed and put away, I tossed the clothes I'd worn into the washer by themselves and took my second Rid shower of the day. After that I put on a set of warm-ups fresh from the dryer, and settled into my chair. I didn't think I'd sleep much that night, but I was out as soon as I leaned back. The alarm went off at 5:45 and I was ready when Dave pulled into the driveway at six. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The three of us met up at the Dunkin' Donuts, to go over our plan again, which really wasn't much of a plan. Alan was far from the nervous guy I had seen the

weekend before Halloween. Literally, he was bouncing off the walls. He loved detective shows on TV, and today was straight out of a re-run of The Rockford Files on TV-Land as far as he was concerned. At 6:45 he jumped into his green Escort and headed down for Jamie's place. David had shown him the way a few days before. We stayed in the lot, ready to roll when the cell would ring and Alan would tell us what was up. "That kid is just so different from the guy I met a couple weeks ago." David smiled. "Yeah, I know. Poor guy's been alone so long. We've been together a lot since then." I saw a thin smile on his face, and a far-away look in his eyes. It was different from other times when I knew he was on a different plane. This was definitely a good far away. "So, are you guys, you know...," I let it linger. David grinned and shook his head. "You got a one track mind, St. Jacques, and that track leads right to the crotch." He looked down, and then up to me again. "I want to. I really do. That kid does something for me. Dunno why." "Not much to look at," I commented. He was exasperated. "That so doesn't matter. It's him I like, not his body or his... well. It's like - he needs a friend right now, not someone using his body, and if I told him I wanted sex he'd jump right at me, because he'd do anything to keep me happy. Soon, maybe. I just... I just want to make sure of things... you know, make sure that it's the right thing for both of us. I wouldn't wanna lose him just 'cuz I wanted to get off one day, just to find out that we're not right for each other. I want Alan to know it's him I want, for him. And he wants me 'cuz he feels more than just gratitude for bein' nice to him. Or he thinks it's the only way to keep me for his friend." He paused, then turned to me with a wistful expression on his face. "I'll tell you right now, that Saturday night ridin' in the car with him snuggled up left me feeling better than all the stuff I ever did with Jeremy or anyone else combined." Dave looked me in the eyes, and I caught that furtive, haunted look again. "I want him to tell me he loves me, and know that he means it - not that he thinks I've got a nice face or a good body. I need him to like me for who I am, not what I look like. That's important. I can wait. And if it doesn't happen, then I can still have him for my friend and he can be a part of my life that way. It isn't gonna happen over night. I don't want to be his Jeremy, or like that other kid at his school. The one that used him, then turned on him." I thought of my own situation. I'd jumped into bed with Jamie for no better reason than I was horny and he said all the things I wanted to hear. Had I been played? Was I just being used? What would it have been like if I had just gotten to know Jamie a lot better before we started having sex. Would we still be where we were now? Or would I have just seen a bad deal and walked away... but then if I had held back, would I have Dave as my friend? I wasn't a leper at school the way Alan was, but I'd distanced myself from a lot of people over the last few years. I really didn't have many close friends left. Correction: besides David, I DIDN'T have any close friends. A lot of casual contacts, but my nights and weekends when I wasn't at work were spent alone before. And all last summer when I trolled around hoping to get laid, a lot of it was because no one else had called to see if I wanted to go out. But then, who had I called? I watched David staring out the window of the car, studying something off in the distance. He was an important part of my life right now. And if it hadn't been for a Sunday afternoon in Newburyport with my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, we'd still be polite strangers who knew each other's name, worked in the same place, and had lunch together at school. Even when I saw him before, I saw him as someone I might want to have sex with because of his looks - not as someone who might be a friend. And where would I be today without him? Sitting at home, wondering what to do next. Even though I knew the facts Friday night, when I washed everything I'd come in

contact with for a week, I resigned myself to what I had to do. Today was just going through the motions, collecting the rest of the evidence so I might present my case. I didn't even want to go through with the whole thing. David talked me into finishing the deal, so I'd know everything there was to know, and then there wouldn't be any doubt left and I could put it all behind me. He stressed that there could be no doubt remaining. "You have to be able to tell yourself you gave it every chance." The phone rang and David snatched it up, but quickly pulled the phone back from his ear. I could hear Alan's excited voice but couldn't make out what he was saying. David turned the engine over and we were off. "Jamie just pulled out of his drive and headed for Water. Alan's right behind him now - I'm betting he's headed for 495." "You don't think the guy's local?" David shook his head. "Prob'ly not - one of us would've recognized him, or something about him. He's our age, about. Even if he went to another school, we'd have seen him at some point. It ain't Central, or Alan would've known him. And I don't think he's that far away, either. Jamie starts at 1:00, right?" I nodded just as we pulled into the exit lane of Dunkin'. There was no guarantee that Jamie would come all the way up to this entry, but I was pretty sure he would. Jamie hated the lights all the way up 125 and the Monument traffic circle, even if it was the more direct way to the highway from his house. He'd head for Main Street, I was sure of it, and even if he went the other way Alan would let us know and we'd be able to catch up quickly in the Caddy. Jamie was like me, and never pushed his old Ford too hard. He couldn't afford to lose the car. "Okay, so if the guy was, like, from down in Salem or something, it'd be at least an hour down, and more like an hour and a half back with Saturday shopping traffic and all the lights in Peabody and Danvers. I'm bettin' it's no more north than Lowell maybe, and then maybe west to Middleton. Otherwise there wouldn't be enough time, and they'd have set it up for Monday, it being Veteran's Day and all." "We're supposed to be going into Boston Monday," I put in quietly. David shrugged. "He'd find a way out of it." I was going to say something when the phone chirped again. "He's stopped at Tosco's Drugs." I folded my arms and scrunched up my face. "He's buying rubbers. Lube too, probably." David stared at me with questioning eyes. "He's that predictable?" I shrugged. "They're the only ones around that sell Ultra-Magnums." David gave a long, slow whistle. "Wow. I always figured he was... well. You know." "Oh, yeah, do I know!" I laughed. "Anyway, Jamie likes going there. There's this clerk he likes to tease. Guy gets kinda big-eyed whenever Jamie flips a box of the Ultras on the counter with the KY. Calls himself Raven. We're like 90% sure he's gay." "Raven? Like in Raven McCauliffe?" I shrugged. "Could be. How many Raven's are there? No idea what his last name is. Big guy, little shorter than Jamie. Not fat big, just big. Got blond hair but he streaks blue in it, parted down the middle. Brown eyes, I think. Oh yeah, little goatee and pierced ears." David snickered. "Sure sounds like McCauliffe - the blue hair's new, though. I'm gonna have to check it out. He used to be one of those Junior Instructors at the Y, taught wrestling. Shit - wish I knew he was gay when he had me pinned to the mat. Would've made things a LOT more interesting." I gave him what I hoped was a withering glance. "And you tell me MY mind is in the gutter?"

"Here they come!" David shouted, nodding towards the traffic. We slouched down and sure enough, it was Jamie in Miss Vicky. We needn't have worried; by the look on his face he was a thousand miles away. A few cars back came Alan. He blew the horn and started pointing ahead. Cool move, Alan, I thought. Why don't you just drive up to Jamie at the light and say 'Hey, we're following you.' David gunned the engine and cut off a Jeep Cherokee who missed us by inches. David didn't notice, or didn't care. The driver leaned on the horn and flipped us off. "Serves him right for damaging the ecology in that gas-guzzling pig," David remarked. "Like this Detroit Dinosaur doesn't measure yards to the gallon," I said sarcastically. David shrugged. "It's a piece of Americana," he said matter of factly. "I'm driving the classic reminder of another age." In the movies and on television, following someone is always a dramatic event. The suspect spots the tail, and a mad chase through the crowded city streets inevitably takes place, maybe ending in a gunfight. In reality, it's hanging back a couple car lengths and watching someone's tail lights. All you have to do is keep them in sight and that's it. Jamie paused at the red light, and we sat three cars behind. He went and we followed. He got in the lane getting onto 495 South and we followed on the long, graceful loop onto the Interstate. Jamie ignored the 'Yield' sign like every Mass driver and so did we. Of course, the idiot who designed this stretch of Interstate had an exit ramp join the entry lane within a few hundred yards of each other, so we almost smacked into the exiting traffic, which almost always seemed to be out-of-staters who didn't know the unwritten rules of Massachusetts motoring and didn't slow down, since they clearly had the legal - if not the practical - right-of-way. David cut off a Dodge minivan that almost got rear-ended by a Chevy pick-up and both drivers leaned on their horns as they locked up their brakes. As always, David ignored these minor inconveniences, and chattered happily on the phone with Alan, who actually pulled up beside us using the center lane. Dave was pissed that Jamie was hugging the inside "Granny Lane", and even observing the speed limit. This is something that is just never done. All Mass drivers are genetically programmed to drive at least ten miles over the posted speed limits, with a safe distance between bumpers of about eighteen inches. That includes the Staties, who'll climb up on your bumper and wave you out of the way if you're going too slowly. We didn't have far to go, just a few exits up the highway, and Jamie got off on Route 110 to Methuen. David told Alan to get directly behind him and we fell back two more car lengths. Jamie may not have been watching for a tail, but a vintage yellow Caddy sort of sticks out if you see it too much. Since he was calling every twelve seconds, David told Alan just to keep the line open and tell us where he turned off, and he was to drive to the next block and then try to double back. Alan howled about going right on East Oak and David veered onto a cut off. "I've been out this way. It joins up with Oak further up." It was a snake of a little spur and we passed this small garage that had its door caved in. Someone had missed the snake curve, and more than once, judging by the look of the garage. David raced on, the wheels of the Caddy screeching, and got to a fork in the road and yelled for me to duck. I caught sight of Jamie's Crown Vic passing as David more or less rolled forward through the Stop sign and closed in behind him, falling just far enough back so he couldn't make out who was driving. I stayed low, just peeking up over the dash to see his taillights, and after a few curves Jamie's left signal went on. I heard David curse in Italian and he stopped short. My head smacked the dashboard. Hard. "How come you're not following?" I snapped, rubbing my forehead.

"Damn street's a circle. He sees us, we got no place to turn off." We had pulled off onto the side of the road just beyond the turn off. Cars passed us, then a small green Escort pulled up behind and Alan sounded the horn. "Cool it!" David snapped into the mouthpiece. I looked behind us and saw Alan's face, looking a little hurt. "Sorry, baby, but I don't wanna draw any attention to us. Stand by, 'kay hon?" David said into the phone. Then he turned and looked at me. I had pulled myself back up into the seat from my crouch on the floor, still rubbing my head. Crabs and a concussion in two days, I was doing great. "This is it," Dave said quietly. "If he was coming out of that circle, we'd've seen him by now. This is where he was going. Do you still wanna go in there?" No, I don't. I want to go home and pretend none of this ever happened. I want to forget about Kenny's love bites and Jamie wrapping himself around some guy at a Halloween street fair. I want to ignore the fact he's supposed to be in Seabrook helping out his brother. I want to be lazing around the house wishing I didn't have to work tonight and thinking of the hot sex I was gonna have with my boyfriend later. And I want to never have gotten the crabs. "I just want to make sure there's no more doubt," I said in a soft voice. David turned and waved Alan into the car. Alan piled into the back seat. He still had that excited, little-kid look on his face. It was still just a big adventure to him. Dave carefully turned the car around, no small feat on that narrow road and in that incredibly long land yacht, and turned into the Circle. He paused at a sharp turn that lead down a steep hill. "I saw Jamie turn off onto this, but I don't see the car in any of the driveways. I think it might be better if we go down the other way slowly, try to keep some distance from wherever he pulled into." We rolled slowly down the hill, scanning the drives along the way. The circle was typical for small housing developments that went up in the late sixties and early seventies. Ranch, Cape, Split, Gambrel. One after the other, in that order, each stretch a mirror image of the group before. Colors varied, some had added shutters, but there wasn't any difference to speak of between them. Some attempts at landscaping gave a few a slightly different look from the others, but that was all. The center of the circle featured slightly larger ranch style homes. We crept down to the bottom of the hill and came to a stop. Three houses away was a gray Gambrel. Jamie's car was on the far side of the driveway, parked behind a green Mitsubishi Eclipse with a UML parking sticker in the rear window. "There's no name on the house or anything," David stated. "I don't see a mail box." Alan jumped in with his squeaky voice. "This part of Methuen is rural delivery. There's a big row of mailboxes at the top of the Circle. Just get the house number." David squinted at the door. "It's 48. Now, the two of you duck down while I drive by." I heard a different tone in his voice. He drove slowly by the house as I hunkered down, maybe trying to get a look in a window. He sped up for a bit, and when I figured we were far enough down the road I sat up. Alan popped up from the rear and leaned over the front seat shoving a hand in my face. "THERE!" he yelled in my ear, pointing to a neat stack of mailboxes at the top of the hill. We pulled up. Number 48 was 'Rurak'. "Well, that gives me a name, anyway," I said with a sigh. "So, is that it? We all done? I could check the mailbox; see what the first names are. The flag's up." David smiled and shook his head. "Don't bother, Alan. Besides, we don't want anyone to see us screwing with someone else's mailbox and calling the cops. We got all we needed. Look, why don't you cross over here and meet me back at my

place, okay? Chris and I are gonna drop this pig off in Andover and get my car. We'll be about forty minutes. Just use the key I gave you and let yourself in. I left the alarm system off." Alan smiled, and David rubbed his hand gently over the kid's arm. He jumped out of the car and happily trotted the few feet to the end of the road, opposite where his car was parked. He stopped, and hurried back to the Caddy. David rolled down the window. "What's the matter?" Alan leaned in, mischief in his eyes. Were these the dull stones I'd seen just a week ago? They glittered now. "Forgot something." Then he leaned forward and gave David a quick kiss on the lips before he shot off again for the Escort. David watched him get into the car and drive off. He had a little smile playing on the corners of his mouth. Then he looked at me and his face flushed. "Sorry." "'S okay. Just 'cuz my love life's in the dumpster doesn't mean you can't have one," I said with a smile, a real one that wasn't forced. "He's got it for ya, Davey," I said teasing. "And, um - he's got a key? Already?" David flushed. "He's gonna be spending the day 'till I have to get to work. Figured lending him a key would make it easier. Then I'll be picking him up tonight. He's staying over. The 'rents are gone again." I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" David began to stammer. "Um - well... you know." I nodded archly. "Yeah. I know." I held my closed hand up to my mouth and made a pumping motion, poking the inside of my cheek out with my tongue. David muttered about us goddam Frog perverts and aimed the car back to 495 and we sped off to the Andover exit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Bledsoe, you stupid son of a bitch!" My mother looked vaguely up over her glasses, and shook her head. "I'll never know why he watches the Patriots. It always upsets him when Drew Bledsoe blows a play. Which is about every one, from what I hear." I was leaning against the doorjamb of the kitchen, definitely not watching football on a cold, drizzly Sunday afternoon in November. Jamie and my father were on the couch together, bouncing up and down like a couple of five year olds. Sunday afternoon games had become a ritual with those two. Whenever he wasn't working the Sunday shift, Jamie came by for some action with my father. NFL action, that is. It didn't matter whether or not I was working. Jamie started dropping by in September to watch with my father, and the two of them would argue strategies and plays or whatever the hell they argue about in football. I wouldn't know. They were good for each other, since from what I gathered Phil Cayman wasn't much on the sport either, which is why Jamie suddenly got into hanging out with my old man on Sundays. "That boy's a man's man," my father would boast. "Wonder why he hangs out with you," he'd say to me. Gee, Pop, I dunno, either. But you should really see your man's man with his heels behind his ears hollerin' 'YEEEHAH! RIDE ME!' Oh, have I ever mentioned that I loathe the game? Okay, consider it done. About all I did know was that the New England Patriots sucked, and according to my dad and Jamie, Drew Bledsoe sucked more than any quarterback in the league. That's about all I knew, or cared to. But for form's sake, I would hang out nearby, at least for the first quarter. After that I could drift upstairs and screw around with my computer or call David or whatever, as long as I had something to keep me busy. Mostly I just didn't want to think, because when I stopped to think I always came back to the same thing. Jamie and Ken. And, oh, yeah, the other one - the Rurak guy. Plus David filled me in on a little detail at work that Saturday night. He recognized the green

Eclipse with the U-Mass Lowell parking permit. That was Jeremy's car. I'd been confused. "I thought Jeremy lived in Lowell? Is his family from Methuen?" I never did learn Jeremy's last name. David wasn't thrilled about having to tell me anything, but I understood why - I really did have to know all the truth. I could never look back on all this and give Jamie wiggle room, wonder if I had blown it by not looking into every angle. But even David had stopped defending Jamie. "His family lives in Sudbury," David explained. "On the South Shore. They've got money, and they throw a lot of it at him so he'll stay away." "You mean, 'cuz he's gay?" "Nah. Just 'cuz he's Jeremy." I almost asked what the hell he was doing there then, but I just looked at David's pained look and I knew why. Three-way off the highway! Whoever this Rurak guy was, he knew Jeremy. Maybe Jeremy introduced him to Jamie at some point. Or maybe it was the other way around. It didn't matter. Whatever the history, it was enough for Jamie to set aside his dislike for Jeremy enough to jump into bed with him. Guess Rurak must have been that good. Or the whole idea of a sex fest was exciting enough that Jamie didn't care who was in on it. Something good happened on the tube. Dad and Jamie jumped to their feet and roared their approval. I stuck my hands in my pockets and pushed off the doorjamb and sauntered over to the kitchen table, smiling in spite of the way I felt. "Jesus, Ma. They're in there doing that toe dance and finger thing together." My mother didn't even look up over her glasses, just worked at the stack in front of her and went down her list. "Your Dad loves his football. Jamie's good for him - he hasn't had anyone to play in the sand box with since Doug Murphy took that Intel job and moved." I frowned, watching her, and slid into a chair. "Kind of early for Christmas cards, isn't it?" She shrugged. "It's almost the middle of November and I'm a realtor. I have a ton of these to do." "Can't you, like, get a computer list with name stamps? Order the cards with a signature and all?" Mom smiled. "Honey, I'm one of the best agents in the office for repeaters. I keep the names on file and send 'em personalized cards every year for five years - which is about how long it takes for a client to decide his latest promotion entitles them to a fancier house. No simulated signatures, no name stamps. Whether they realize it or not, they like that personal touch. Or enough of 'em do to want to keep coming back to me." That made sense, I suppose. My mother was one of the more successful agents for her agency. Jamie strode into the kitchen and flashed a big grin at us. He opened the refrigerator door and took out two beers. Mom's smile disappeared and her eyes came up over the half-frames of her reading glasses. She looked pointedly at the two beers in Jamie's hands, then at Jamie's face. Her face was blank. Mom would make a good poker player. Jamie caught the look and his eyebrows shot up as he looked at the two cans of LaBatts. He turned back to the fridge, put back a can and turned to her with one beer, one orange soda. Mom smiled and nodded. Jamie's eyes were opened wide as he made a very showy slow-sneak out of the kitchen, back rigid. The corners of her lips tugged up and she winked at me. I heard my father and Jamie trading words in the living room. Dad came into the room with a snarl on his face and the orange soda in his hand and went right for the fridge. Before he opened it he gave my mother a defiant look. "Would Jamie rather have a Coke, Rollie?" she asked in an innocent if cold voice. She narrowed her eyes over the glasses again and looked directly into my

father's eyes. No trace of a smile on her lips this time. I could see my dad folding, the defiance draining. He'd seen that face before, and knew better than to challenge it. "Umm, yeah," he said and swapped the cans. Jamie loathed Coke and my Dad knew it. So did my mother. His fingers fleetingly touched the previously rejected can of beer but I guess he already knew that battle was lost. He closed the door and left the room. Mom smiled again. "If I go in there, I'll see your father sipping Coke and Jamie sipping beer. Guess I better stay in here for a while." She'd allow my father a small private victory, just not a big public one. I wondered if he knew that she knew. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Ma. Jamie doesn't really drink much. Or often." She knew better than to acknowledge how I would know this, just as she declined on occasion to notice the odd missing can of beer - just replaced it for my Dad, who never noticed at all as long as he had his cold one most every night watching television. Two, on Sundays. "Glad to hear that. His father loved beer. Drank like a fish." I knew Scotty Levesque was a drinker from what Jamie told me, and also that my mother knew both his parents. I'd never followed it up before. Maybe I shouldn't have done it then, either. "Did you know them well? Jamie's parents, I mean." My mother cocked her head, slipped her glasses off. "I don't know Phil, but I knew both Scotty and Jeanette. Jeanette used to be a friend of mine. A very close friend. We went all the way though grammar and high school together. Scotty was a year older than us. Beautiful as Jamie - those eyes, the face, the body... seeing Jamie's like turning the clock back and looking at Scotty all over again. Except the voice. Scotty sounded like a radio announcer. It wasn't like he gave orders, but his voice just had that quality that demanded your complete attention. People just naturally followed Scotty Levesque." She sighed and shook her head. "Too bad he was such a complete asshole." I had to chuckle. I'm not one of those guys who would deny my mother knows all the words. She knew 'em, and used a few of 'em if she was pissed. I just never heard her use the word that casually before. I know real well where my sharp tongue comes from. Mom had other ways of calling you an asshole without ever using the word or any other cuss word for that matter. So did I, but I used the words every chance I got, stringing them together in creative ways that I found funny. She's heard me a few times with my sister and even though she chewed me out I could see her fighting with herself not to laugh. I'd heard my Dad chuckle a few times, making the comment that the money he'd paid out for my Catholic school elementary education hadn't been wasted, after all. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked. "Ma, you don't usually talk like that. I mean..." She sat back in the chair, a calm look on her face. "I know what you mean," she sniggered. "But for Scotty Levesque, I'll make an exception. He was an asshole. He made Jeanette's life miserable. He's even the reason she and I stopped being friends." I leaned forward, wanting to hear more. She read me of course, always could. She set aside the cards and took the glasses off that had slid down to the end of her long, thin nose. Yeah, my nose. But it just looked better on her. She sighed. "Scotty was a drunk, a liar, and a womanizer. He blew every penny he ever laid his hands on partying or gambling. He wanted to nail anything that wore a skirt. But he was beautiful to look at, and Jeanette couldn't see anything but that when he started asking her out. Actually, he tried dating both of us, but Jeanette wanted him so badly that I took a back seat. I didn't realize what he really was back then, but I found out. A month after they were engaged he started hitting on me again. Said she didn't have to know. Every time he saw me, he was all over me. Hands... and sometimes his body up against mine,

the way it shouldn't have been. I never told your father; he'd have gone after him and Scotty would've broken him in half. You may have gotten my height but you got your Dad's metabolism, and he was like a bone back then." She paused and smiled. "Except for his butt. He had buns tighter and higher than John Travolta back then. He had some great moves on the dance floor, too." I tried to picture that. I'd seen John Travolta in a movie on cable that week, Michael. Overweight, needed a shave and covered with tufts of black hair all over his back and front. He burped and farted through the whole thing. I shuddered, thinking about him and my dad being similar. My dad is tall and thin, and like me, didn't have much hair on him except on his head, which I thought was good news. I thought of Dave's father and his Uncle Lou. They polished their heads with 'Armor All' and Chamois cloths, I think. I gave Dave a hard time about looking at the future reflected off his old man's head but David pointed out that the female line dictated the gene for baldness, and that until he died his grandfather had a full head and it was just as dark as the day he was twenty, and without a hair dye, though no one believed it. He'd asked about my mother's father and I changed the subject, wondering if I should maybe look into Minoxydol at eighteen. "So... what happened? Did she find out?" My mother made a wry face, and her eyes drifted off. "No. I told her. I thought she deserved to know. Dumbest or the smartest thing I ever did, I'm not sure yet. But it was years until she spoke to me again, after they were divorced." I shook my head at first, and I understood how Alan felt when he ran back to us at the Salem Festival. He hadn't wanted to tell what he saw and heard, we had to make him. And David hadn't been happy about telling me that Jeremy's car was parked in the Rurak driveway, IN FRONT of Jamie's car, so Jamie had to know he was there. "Why'd you tell her that?" She laid her hands on the table, and pressed her lips together. She looked down at the table at first and then back to me. "Because silence is complicity. If I kept my mouth shut, that would make me Scotty's accomplice - and I couldn't live with that. I had to tell Jeanette if only to maybe save her some heartache, give her some defenses, because when I watched him after that I noticed I wasn't the only one he was making moves on. She accused me of trying to steal Scotty for myself. Which was crazy, because I was already engaged to your father at that point." I could understand that. I remember the anger I'd felt for poor, gossipy Eric whose only crime was answering the questions I asked. Eric was trying to be funny, since he was nervous trying to make time with David and suddenly being dropped down with his friend who could have been his date for all Eric had known. He'd just found something to talk about that someone seemed interested in. It must have been worse for Jeanette Cayman hearing from someone she'd known most of her life that the object of her affection was trying to mount anything in a skirt. I certainly wasn't crazy about learning that Jamie was a Chip off the ol' Block. "Anyway, that's enough of the history. I only bring it up because it's pretty clear that things aren't going real well with you and Jamie right now. Want to talk about it?" I froze in the chair. Nothing was being implied; I'd just heard a statement. My mother knew Jamie and I were more than 'just friends.' I felt her eyes on me, the same yellowy-brown eyes that I had. I saw the same narrow nose, the same lips. What was different was the set of those lips. Mine were pressed thin, and the lower one would quiver if I relaxed it. Hers were curving upward. "Don't try to bull me, Chris," she said. "I knew you'd met someone when your father and I came back from Winnpesaukee last summer. I just didn't know who until Jamie suddenly started turning up all the time. I wasn't crazy about it, but I've known for years that it was just a matter of time."

To say I was uncomfortable was an understatement. My heart actually stopped for a moment, and I had to keep my hands on the table or she'd see me shaking. I needed to brace myself, I was that shocked. And scared. I knew this moment would come one day. I just hadn't expected it to be anytime soon. Not with my father and my boyfriend sitting on a couch in the living room, watching a football game together, and sitting with my mother at the kitchen table while she addressed Christmas cards to clients. She gave me a break and turned her attention back to that very thing. It was easier with her doing something else besides staring at me with my own eyes so to speak. "How did you know?" I asked quietly. She simply continued writing. "Honey, I could give you this long spiel about how a mother always knows these things, and to a point, that's true. When you were thirteen and fourteen, I waited for certain things to happen, the same things I saw happen when my brothers got to be that age. Well, sure enough, I noticed you were doing your own laundry," she said wryly, and there was no missing the smile. "That was right on schedule. But a lot of things weren't. No cheerleader posters in your room. Not even female singers. Backstreet Boys and Hanson, yeah. And the Moffets. I think the O Boys are cuter though, but that's just me. Oh, and Savage Garden. Definitely Savage Garden." She put down one card, slipped it into an envelope and grabbed another. "And I had a handsome, smart kid on my hands who never went on a date even though girls would call the house. Then you started to withdraw from most of your friends, like you had something to hide. Big shift for someone who liked to be the center of the action when he was little. You were always home alone, or just doing things on your own, and I thought that was sad. I wanted to bring this up before, but I wasn't sure how you'd act. I know you think I'm dumb about this stuff, Chris, but I do know what gay means. Just like I know it's nothing you can control or change. It just is." I'd regained some control again by now, but I was still shocked, if not exactly scared. She knew about me, and if there was to be a showdown, it would have come months before. But still... "You don't mind? Me being gay, that is?" She stopped writing, took her glasses off and cocked her head at a funny angle. "I don't mind? Whether or not I 'mind' something has nothing to do with this, but no, I don't mind. Does it bother me? Yes, it does. A lot. It bothers me because your life'll be a lot harder than it could have been. Certain doors will be slammed in your face for a career, and very unofficially, too. People will laugh and point at you behind your back, and some of them to your face, which means at least they have guts if not much for brains. You're more likely to be jumped and beaten, and less likely to get police protection. You're more at risk for diseases. You can be singled out for derision by people in pulpits and government and too many will applaud the ignorance, and all because you won't be able to live a lie and act the way the majority says you should act." She sighed. "And on a more personal level, there's the grandchildren. Your sister's married, and you're all but on your own right now, or soon will be. Once you've done with college in four and a half years, I'll loose the baby. I looked forward to your children, because they'd be the normal ones. They'd be the fun ones." I snickered. "Hey, Donna's straight. She'll have kids." My mother nodded ruefully. "I figure she'll have three, each with a different father. That poor husband of hers is already starting to wear out. Her kids'll live in therapy and be shuttled around from one house to the next on alternate weekends. And then they'll have your sister for a mother," she shuddered, and so did I. "In case you haven't noticed, your sister is a raving bitch." I noticed. Everyone had noticed. Except poor Andy, the guy she married. Or, excuse me, Drew as she insisted he be called, even to his own family who pointedly ignored her, figuring she wouldn't be around for long. I remembered

Andy's brother Dennis from the wedding. We'd made a bet with his father for five bucks that said they'd be split in two years. All three of us laughed. Then Andy's mother spoke up and said she'd up the ante to a hundred if we could speed it up by a year. My sister didn't hear us but she knew somehow that whatever we were laughing at was at her expense and had given us all deadly looks, to which I was immune after years of repeated exposure. I even gave Dennis tips on little things that would set her off, knowing that she couldn't go after him like she would me, but have to sit there and stew. I liked Dennis almost as much as I felt sorry for Andy. "I'm sorry, Ma." She shook her head. "Nothing for you to be sorry about," she said with a shrug. "And don't sit there with that sad puppy look on your face. The only thing I do mind is that you're having sex - pretty risky sex, too - and that you're on the receiving end of the risky stuff." I felt the color draining from me. I could deal with her springing on me that she knew I was gay. She pretty clearly understood that I had something going with Jamie. I really didn't need to have her pin down exactly what we were doing in bed, or who was doing what to whom. "At least I know you boys are doing it safe," she said, with a touch of relief in her voice. It was worth a shot. "So... um... what makes you so sure we're doing anything?" She gave me a look that from a lifetime of exposure I knew meant 'don't even try to bullshit me' and I knew I'd lost the round. "I remember sneaking my boyfriends in, Chris. And why." Ouch. Your parents having sex. Red light! But I did have to laugh. "I just can't see Dad climbing in the windows." She wrote out another card. "I didn't mean your...oh - right. But don't change the subject. Jamie left a little evidence in the bathroom, right on top of the trash. I found it that Monday morning when I made sure everything went out for trash collection. You always forget that one." She paused. "Well, maybe not so little..." she trailed. I thought back to that night... Jamie had gone to the bathroom right after. I always figured he'd flushed away the evidence. After he'd seen me use the trash bag that always hung on my closet door, he followed suit. I'd never thought to look in the bathroom trash, any more than I ever remembered to empty it. Still... "How do you know it wasn't mine?" I knew the tone of voice, and for the first time I knew the sly look that would spread on my own face when I was about to get a good one in. "The size, dear. I changed your diapers, remember? It always seemed to me you had a lot of potential and a big future ahead of you, but not that much potential, and not that big a future." "Ma!" I cried, my face burning. She continued writing out her cards. I did catch a slight giggle. "So... how are things between you two, then?" I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "'S okay, I guess." She hesitated, but I could feel her looking through me, looking inside me. I always could when I was a kid. I think I always will. "You're lying, but that's your business. You never were very good at it. Whatever's going on, I want you to remember something, something important: what we call 'love' doesn't last that long. I'm sure at the beginning, both you boys thought it was going to be perfect forever, that it was all going to be perfect in every way. At the start, it is. We look past the flaws, try not to see the problems. "Well, that doesn't last. One night you crawl into bed and roll over and just go to sleep. Or you're... doing it - and you look at the clock and think you have to be up in a few hours and just WHEN is he going to get finished. You forget

that kiss in the morning that was so important. He farts in bed and doesn't even bother to say sorry." She shook her head. "None of those things matter. What does matter is that when all the gushing and everything is over, that you like and respect each other. Your father and I haven't been 'in love' for years, not the way people think of it. But he likes me, and I like him. We have fun together. We respect each other. And - this is the important part - neither one of us takes anything less than we deserve from one another. Your father's never snuck around on me, and I've never done it to him. You can ignore faults and bad habits, the two of you will screw things up over and over again... but when one of you deliberately does something that they know will hurt the other, then it's time to rethink everything and make decisions. When you make a decision that's important, don't just look at what you might lose if the other one is gone. Think about what's inside you that might be lost. It's not being selfish to do that. Never take less than you deserve." I nodded, of course. I always nod when my mother talks and I'm expected to listen. But this was different. She was advising me, not telling me what to do. The whole conversation was different from anything we'd ever had between us. Let's face it, your mother tells you stuff and you pretend to listen. You 'yes' her to death to keep the peace, then you head out the door with no idea of what she just said, 'cuz it's just Ma sounding off again. "This is different. The whole thing." She reached across the table, and her fingers just touched the tips of mine. "You're the baby of the family Chris, but you're not a baby anymore. I can't tell you what to do. I can talk to you. I always knew one day we'd just be able to sit and talk - just Chris and Dotty. I was never able to sit and talk with my mother like that 'till after Grampy died. My Aunt Madeleine came up from the south for the funereal. Remember her? Well, she's not my aunt, she's my mother's cousin; but they grew up together over in T'ree River, and were raised like sisters in Pepe's house. They were sitting there talking, laughing about their childhood. I sat there and they brought me into the place they grew up in, two girls born in the Depression and when things started to look good found themselves in the Second World War, wondering if their brothers and boyfriends would ever come back. They made me part of their childhood, talking about things I had no clue about. "It was strange to me. It was the first time I realized I wasn't just Dotty, Irene's girl. I was Dorothy, and I was having coffee with Irene and Madeleine and talking about our lives. I was thirty-nine years old, and it's the first time I ever felt like my mother's equal. I always wanted you and Donna to feel like that. I haven't had the chance to talk to her like this, and I doubt I ever will. Donna's always going to need her mother. You're different. You don't need me anymore, so I have to make you my friend and treat you like one if I want to keep you, and that means speaking frankly with you." You'd have to know my mother to understand her, I think. It was totally not her style to reach out and sweep you up in a big hug and drip tears. But I felt the touch of her fingertips against mine as she leaned forward across the table, and then gently sliding across the back of my hand. I took her hand into mine then, and just squeezed it. I looked into my own eyes and saw fear and joy, the fear of losing me and the joy of finding me at the same time. I felt the same way. We understood each other. I felt her relax, and I relaxed, too. She smiled, and released my hands, and went back to her cards. I leaned back in the chair, and stretched. "Bledsoe you dumb fuckin' c---!" I froze. My mother's eyes bugged out. Dad used the 'C' word, the big one. The one guaranteed to send any woman up the walls. I'd only heard him use it once when my mother was in earshot, and he'd paid dearly for that once. She'd taken his blood with one razor sharp swipe of the tongue at a time, over the space of months, gently torturing him in front of his children at the dinner table. My

sister never got what was going on, but then, she never got most anything, so that didn't surprise me. I heard his muffled voice, and Jamie saying, "Yeah, you did." "Shit." My father was leaning against the doorjamb now, his face white. "Dorothy? Did you call me, hon?" My mother gave him her sweetest smile. "No, Rollie, why would I?" "Um, no reason. I, uh, just thought I heard you call my name. Hey, uh... after the game, how about we get dressed up and have some dinner at Bishop's? We haven't done that for awhile." She gave him a dazzling smile. "That'd be fun. Place is expensive, but yeah, that would be nice." I watched him relax, and casually saunter back to the living room. He was sweating. My father hates getting all dressed up after a lazy Sunday. "How do you think he'll deal with it? I mean... about me." "Don't worry about it, Chris. Your father is a lot of things, but he isn't dumb and he isn't mean. He may say the wrong things, and he might not have much tact, but your father is not an ignorant man. One of these days, take a look at the bottom of his file cabinet, the one where he hides all his Hustlers. I know you've got the combination. So did he. Go right to the bottom and check out some of the fliers he has on gay youth and support. They started showing up when you were sixteen. He's never said anything to me, but he thinks I'm just a silly woman and I won't be able to handle it. And I remember when we were kids and his cousin Bobby got arrested with another boy for what they called 'gross public lewdness'. Rollie was the only one to stand by Bobby, and he got a lot of crap for it. From his family and his friends." "Shit." "Language..." she warned. "Did I fool anyone? I mean, am I that obvious?" It amused her, I could see. "No, honey. You're not. You don't swish, or prance, or talk funny, or any of that cliché stuff. He just saw the same things I did, and unlike a lot of men, your father didn't stick his head in the dirt and pretend it wasn't so. Roland's a lot more sensitive to things than you think. He doesn't run a thirty-five-man crew at the distribution center without knowing something about people. Just remember: if they tried stoning you in the streets, your father would cover you with his own body, if that's what it took." I took it in. She was right about my father. He said things wrong a lot, because he was a plainspoken guy and didn't play with words. But he did know how to deal with people most of the time, and even though he said some things to me others might think were mean, they just didn't know him that well. I walked to the doorway again, and looked at the backs of their heads from a distance. My father and my boyfriend. If my father knew about me, he had to know about Jamie. It just didn't seem to make any difference to him. I thought about what a good thing that was, and how lucky I was. There's a lot of horror stories you read or hear about. It was lucky that I wasn't going to be in one of them, which I'd always thought would be the case. I smiled and turned back to my chair, and eased myself down. "You don't like Jamie, do you?" I asked. "No." "Why?" She was squirming. I never thought I'd see the day that I'd be able to make my mother squirm. "You'll say it's silly, but Grampy used to tell me the same thing, over and over. 'It don't fall far.' You know what that means?" I nodded. "It means you think Jamie is the same as Scotty. That he's a bastard." "I know it sounds like superstitious nonsense to you - it does to me. Sins of the father and all that. It's just... I see Jamie, and I see Scotty, head to

toe, and I remember the hell he put Jeanette through. I know Jamie's different I remember how he spoke up for you when your dad put you down in front of him. Scotty would have just made another cheap joke at your expense. That's what makes me hope I'm wrong, and why I'm being careful of what I say. But just remember what I said. Never take anything less than you deserve, from Jamie or anyone else." Jamie stood in the door, all smiles. "Game's over, C., beat your old man outta ten bucks. Ready for the movie?" I checked the clock. We still had almost an hour. "What're you guys going to see?" "Up to Chris," he said with a shrug. "I been hoping to catch Unbreakable before it goes out. I think it's something like Sixth Sense." My mother shuddered. "Ugh. Bruce Willis. Well, don't be too late anyway. I know there's no school tomorrow, but try to get back at a decent time, okay Chris?" "Um, we might be going over to my place after," Jamie put in. Not only were Phil and Jeanette away for the long weekend, but they'd taken Lauren with them. "I mean, it's no problem if Chris wants to stay over, right?" My mother looked at me, then at Jamie, then back to me. "Okay," she said quietly. "But just be careful." "Always am, Dotty!" he said cheerfully. "I'll go get my coat. Just be a second." I went up to my room and pulled out my new leather coat. I reached into the pocket, and took out the little black box I'd stuffed in there, and opened it. It was a gold Claddagh ring, Jamie's size, with the heart set in white gold. Two birthstones had been set in either lobe of the heart. My August peridot, Jamie's November citrine. I'd made the first payment just before my birthday in August, when Jamie and I had first gotten together and he told me his birthday. I'd just finished paying for it this week. I'd been politely informed by the jeweler that since the stones had already been set, and the inscription - just our initials and the date we met - had already been done, I couldn't just cancel and get my money back. "Hey! Haul it! We gotta move," Jamie shouted from the bottom of the stairs. I slipped the ring case into the top drawer of my dresser and then I pulled on the jacket and trotted down the stairs. Before or after, I asked myself, looking at Jamie's handsome face, all smiles. I knew the answer. After. I didn't have the nerve to say what I had to say yet. I hoped the movie would be good; to take my mind off what had to be done for a few hours.

Chapter 9

"The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly"

I suppose there have been worse nights and worse dates, but I couldn't think of any others off-hand, so this one was going to be my reference point for a long time. I was standing there in the cold, and the numbness that set in on the long drive home enveloped me. I'd gotten out of Jamie's car slamming the door and walked over to his side, watching him roll down the window, and I took a final shot. "If you get lonely tonight, maybe you can call up Jeremy and you an' him can set up something with that Rurak guy over in Methuen." I kicked the car, hard. And kicked it again. I saw the muscles on Jamie's jaw tighten, and he glared at me with an expression

halfway between sorrow and anger. Then I stepped back with my hands stuffed in my jacket pockets, and watched as he backed out of the driveway. He shifted into drive, gunned the engine and took off. In the movies, they always have that little scene where the character that's going away stops and looks back, just for a moment. He raises a hand in a halting goodbye, with a sad smile on his lips -- just enough to tell you that it's okay, and maybe there'll be another chance. There's hope, or at least enough hope to let you get through the night. But Jamie... he just drove off and never looked back. I know: I watched him until the car disappeared into a right turn at the end of my block, and I heard the echo of Vicky's engine fade away. I wasn't sure what to do. I couldn't go in the house; my mother would take one look at me and freak. And my dad... well, I've told you about him. He acts first and thinks later. One look at me and... I had no place to go. Except... It was freezing out here, so I couldn't just stand around and think it over. Finally I decided to head for my car, at least I could sit there - or would have, if the damn thing weren't covered in a shell of ice. I kicked it as hard as I could and swore, both because it didn't do any good and because of the instant stab of pain that ran up to my thigh. I was ready to break down then and there. "Chris?" It did surprise me though, the way he appeared at the door: my dad. He just stood there, not even turning on the porch light. I couldn't see his face really, since he was so heavily backlit. I just recognized his shape and voice. Besides, who else would be at my house besides him? It just wasn't like him to check up on me. "Is everything all right, Chris?" he asked, leaning out the door. I made sure I was still in the shadows, on the edge of the driveway. I continued trying to look casual, breaking up the ice on my car again, keeping my back to him. I fought to keep my voice steady, to keep myself steady. "Yeah, Dad. Just stopping off to pick up the car. It...it'll just make things easier in the morning." "You'll be at Jamie's, then? That's what your mother said. I thought I heard you shouting." His voice had a strange tone to it, but I didn't really read into it. Had he heard Jamie and me? Just how much did he hear? Was it concern I heard, or something else? I sighed. I didn't want to get into it just now. I didn't want another drama to play out. I'd had enough for one Sunday. Suddenly out to my mom, and then - all the crap. Lying seemed the easiest way out. "Yeah, I'll be staying over there tonight, Dad," I said, as another big chunk of ice cracked and splintered under my fist. "We'll be heading into Boston in the morning. Prob'ly won't get home 'til evening. We'll see, okay?" Part of me was desperate. I didn't want him to turn on the porch light and get a look at me. Fortunately my car was parked at the edge of the driveway, a little bit onto the far side of the lawn and away from the house, so my parents could get their cars in and out without having to bother with moving mine. No on-street parking this time of year. Tonight would be a bad night, anyway. The sleet had turned into more of an ice storm the closer we got to Haverhill, and it clung to the ground. The roads were slick, and the sanders weren't out yet, or at least not in our neighborhood. A lot of people who've spent their entire lives in New England seem to forget every winter that you can't stop fast on iced-up roads, and I'd already seen a few crack-ups on the drive back from Salem. Most of 'em involved parked cars, piled into by idiots who slammed on their brakes. I think the four-wheel drive SUV morons were the worst. They didn't seem to distinguish between snowy roads and iced up roads, and that it didn't make any difference how many wheels drove when you skidded on ice. Just a

bigger crunch into the side of whoever found themselves the victims of these idiots who poured out big-bucks for the prestige of driving an over-weight vehicle designed for off-road use whose idea of a rough ride was a pothole on the Interstate. I kept my back to him, and started pounding on the glass with my left hand to break up the ice. It would have made more sense to get in and start the car, but if I did that I'd have turn towards him, and the dome light in my Tercel would light me up enough so that he'd see my ripped coat and... well, the rest of me. "Okay, kid. Just take it easy on the road. Lot of assholes out there who don't know how to maneuver in this stuff. And call when you get there, ok? So your mother doesn't worry," he added, and I smiled. Yeah, my mother won't worry. Or you, for that matter. His voice told me that, even if his words didn't. Thanks, dad. Thanks for caring, even if you can't say it. I heard the aluminum storm door wheezing shut, and I was almost free, when I heard it snap open again. "You got your phone with you? Just in case, you know. Still got some minutes left?" Lucky for me I did. I'd learned after the first month just how expensive a cell phone could be when you went over your contract limit at the wrong time, and hadn't made that mistake since. He'd given me the phone and bought a few hours for me up front, but if I went over I had to make up the difference, and if I didn't pay he'd just shut me down. He'd given it to me for emergencies, since I drove a ten-year-old car and covered a fair distance back and forth to work, a lot of it at night. "Yeah - no sweat, Dad," I said, and continued pounding. Now go back into the house so I can get in this thing and start the heater so I can get the ice off, I thought. Oh, yeah, and before I freeze to death, too. I listened to the pump slowly edging the door closed, and then the final THUNK as it just slammed the last four inches, followed by the sound of the front door closing. I stole a glance back at the house. He was standing in the doorway, watching me through the window. The outer glass was crusted with ice, so he couldn't see me that well, or I hoped not. I fished out my keys, cursed the lock when it wouldn't budge, and pounded the side panel with my good hand. It finally gave and the ice coating splintered as the door creaked open, and I slid inside, careful to reach up and kill the dome light. Unlike Jamie's Ford, my Toyota turns over and catches in any kind of weather, no sweat. The heater sucked, but the car always started. I sat for a few minutes, letting the engine idle, and eventually I saw my father leave his spot in the window. I fished out the scraper, and flicked away the rest of the ice from the windshield as fast as I could, hoping he still couldn't get a good look at me. I shivered, holding my arms around me, waiting for the car to warm up a little. I glanced into the rearview, and caught sight of myself: just enough light to see the split lip, and the swelling eye. I shook my head, then edged back into the street, slowly. I was starting to shake again, but not just from the cold. I was scared; more scared than I'd ever been. Stay alert, Chris. Focus on the road. Forget the rest, at least for right now. Now, where? Yeah, like I had a choice. There was only one place for me to go: I had to get to David's. He was the only one left; the only one safe. I carefully flipped open the center console, and pulled out my phone, intending to call David. I knew he'd be home. Dammit, dead battery. Just have to hope. I needed a place. Usually I'd take the less-used roads to get to the edge of town where David lived, but tonight I kept to the main streets as much as I could. The sanders would hit these first, and the roads would be easier to manage. I maneuvered carefully, focusing my eyes on the road, and the road only. Don't think, I told myself. There's just the road and where you're going. That's all there is right now. Concentrate on the road. I didn't switch on the radio - never do, when driving conditions are bad. Don't

ask me why, but there's a part of me that's convinced I can actually see better when there's total silence, and tonight I needed to see very well. Finally I heard the reassuring sound of slush from the melted ice flashing up from the wheel wells, and the slight sway from the back of the car diminished. The mix of sand and salt was doing its best to keep the ice melted, and even if it was also eating the body of my car at the same time, it was worth it for the reassurance that gritty sound brought. I could relax a little now. After ten minutes, I felt I could handle the radio. I reached forward with my right arm and - damn! That hurt. I glanced down. My arm was a mess, and the sleeve of my new leather jacket was ripped down the side. I leaned forward, my arm half extended. The pain in my side was still bad, but at least I wasn't forcing myself to stand like there was nothing wrong. I gingerly reached again for the radio, leaning my body forward and more slowly this time, and flicked the switch that would bring me one of the "oldies" rock stations in the area. I wasn't in the mood for top forty, or alternative rock, or any of the damn hip-hop/rap crud. I wanted something easy, peaceful. Sunday nights, the oldies stations played a lot of that stuff from the seventies - not the loud disco or anything like that, but some of the soothing, mellow stuff. I was in the mood for that right now, that was for sure. I needed to distract myself. I flicked the station over to The River and hit the 'on' switch. I rubbed my chest, which still ached, and my fingertips felt the stiffness of my shirt. Jesus, I thought. Did the blood dry or freeze? Naw, it had to have dried. Even with my lousy heater it wouldn't stay frozen. Not with my body heat behind it. I must look a mess, I thought. If my father had seen me at the house, it would have been all over. One look at the ripped-open jacket, the blood and bruises on my face, not to mention the blood all over my shirt, and he'd have gone off the walls. Then there would have been the other bruises under the shirt when they made me strip that off. Size thirteen Sketchers pack an awful wallop when their owner starts to kick. I was lucky: they'd only connected in my stomach and on my side and thigh. A little higher and I was certain I'd have had a few broken ribs. Oh, yeah. No question about it, this had been one hell of a night. Then I had to pull over. I was gonna lose it. The commercial on the radio faded, the DJ spoke in that low-key, half-muffled voice all those guys working night shift at adult radio stations have, and the next song came on. I only heard a couple of chords and I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I knew this song. My father played it a lot; the singer was high on his list and this was one of his favorite cuts. It was a lot better without the scratching and hissing of old vinyl, but I wasn't really appreciating the quality of the recording just then. I was trying to get to the side of the road that I couldn't see because of the tears in my eyes. Been away, haven't seen you in awhile How've you been? Have you changed your style? And do you think that we've grown up differently? Don't seem the same, seems you've lost your feel for me. So let's leave it alone... 'Cause we can't see eye-to-eye... There ain't no good guys, There ain't no bad guys There's only you and me And we just disagree. I reached down to kill the radio. That was us. That was Jamie and me. There ain't a good guy. There ain't a bad guy. Just him and me, and we just disagree. Still didn't make it hurt any less. ~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not sure how long I sat there by the side of the road, staring at my wipers. For sure, no one else was dumb enough to be out. I think even the cops were sitting in the Dunkin' Donuts parking lot, but that's nothing new. Cops. Just now, I didn't have any use for cops. Or newspapers. Or... Or any use for a lot of things and people, and even myself. I set the car back into gear, and made my way slowly to David's. It wasn't bad until the end, when I had to turn off into the narrow, semi-rural road that would take me to the Sciuoto house. The sanders hadn't been by here yet; probably wouldn't get here for hours. It was a small street with only a few houses on it, and even if the houses belonged to well-connected and monied people, they'd have to wait their turn. Haverhill only had so much money in the budget, and it wasn't a real rich town. The sanders would be there by morning, but no time soon. Jesus, why was I so concerned about the sanders? 'Cuz its dumb, and it fills the mind, and sends the heavy stuff away for just a little while. The drive... and turning in, the sound of my wheels crunching over the uneven ice. There's a light on in the living room, I can see it. Then a body in the window, followed by another. I know it's not David's parents, they're gone for the long Veteran's Day weekend. Must be David, and Alan. Had to be Alan. Jesus, I was breaking up their night now. Maybe it was the night David was looking forward to, when he'd have that special talk with Alan and... Maybe I should back out and just drive away, but where? I didn't have anywhere else. The door opened and David was standing there in sweat pants and shirt, waving me forward. Alan was just behind him, but he looked like he was only in shorts and a tee shirt. Looked to be settled in for the night, the two of them. David wrapped his arms around himself and sprinted out to the car. He nearly lost his footing and slid clumsily. I watched his breath, and then I noticed he only had thin slippers on his feet. The damn fool must be freezing. He stopped, maybe ten feet from the car, when I stepped out and Alan threw on the spotlights in the drive before he flew out of the house. David saw my face, the bloody shirt, and the ripped-up jacket. He froze. His body language went from a mix of concern and pleasure to see me, to a dead, cold anger. His voice had an edge colder than the night. "He did this? Jamie?" he spat the name. "I'll contract him, I swear! I'll call my uncle and - " I shook my head. "No, Dave... don't. Can... can I just come in?" I was confused, scared, and tired. I didn't want any more trouble; I didn't need any more. Not tonight. Alan drew up closer. He hadn't been able to see me that well from the door, but as he drew closer I saw his face flicker from a smile to a dead, clinical look. He spoke to Dave. "Davey, get him in the house. He's in shock, and he's hurt more than what you can see. I don't know how the fuck he even drove here." Alan slipped his shoulder under my good arm. I guess he knew I was hurt in the side, maybe by the way I stood. I remembered Dave telling me... poor Alan got stomped on a regular basis at school. He was probably an expert on the body English of pain. David kicked my car door shut, and I leaned on Alan and he helped me limp into the house. It sunk in that he was only in shorts, and I tried to tell him to get inside and I'd make it on my own. "Shut-up," was the only reply, so I let him lead me. David tailed us, maybe waiting to catch me if I fell back and poor, skinny little Alan went over with me. I stopped before we reached the porch and spat, realized it was red when it hit the white, crusty ice. Jesus, what else was bleeding? Then I noticed something about Alan, and I began to giggle stupidly. I'd never seen him in shorts or a tee shirt before, just fully dressed. Hairy little twerp, I thought. Christ, his arms and legs are almost like a pelt! Wonder if David has to brush him out like a cat once a week?

We got into the house, and David slammed the door beside us. I could feel Alan shivering, and David was stamping his feet to get the circulation going. Me, I didn't feel anything. Just numb. "My parents. Gotta call 'em." David nodded, "I'll do it for ya." I nodded, he's thinking of a reason why he was calling them, not me. "I'm at Jamie's, got that?" David nodded. "Yeah, I got it, C. I just came by, and with the storm and all, I'll be staying over 'cuz the roads suck. And I'm calling on my cell 'cuz the lines are out at the Cayman's. So much for caller ID." Alan said something to David, but I wasn't paying any attention. I was looking over to the television, one of those big projection screen jobs. They had a movie on. Casablanca, I thought. Good choice tonight. David ran up the stairs, and Alan began peeling my coat off. I tried to help, but a stab of pain went up my arm, and he had to just sort of ease it off my shoulders and let it drop. I looked down at it - brand new, a hundred fifty bucks. Trash, now. The right sleeve was ripped-out at the seam, and the leather shredded down the lower arm. The front had rips and tears, too. Useless. Didn't even get a full night out of it. He helped me to the stairs, and at the top David showed up again, and he helped Alan get me down the hall. Damn, I hurt. I didn't realize how much I hurt on the drive over here, or standing in the driveway - first with Jamie, then my father. Alan and Dave got me into the bathroom. Not David's, I realized after awhile; much larger, more lavishly appointed. Must be his parents' bath, I thought. Oh cool, Dave was filling the tub, a large Jacuzzi. Maybe the three of us could have a party, I thought, and began to giggle. Meanwhile, they were easing off my shirt, and David got a look at the massive bruise on my side, where I'd been kicked. It was several shades of green and deep purple. "Just tell me this wasn't Jamie, Chris," he said calmly. "Nothing else. No other questions." I shook my head. "No. Jamie would never hurt me." My voice sounded weak, distant. It was like hearing someone else speaking from the far side of a room. David was loosening my pants, telling me to kick them off. In seconds, I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, completely naked, but not caring. Alan came back with a face cloth, and began to swab gently at my face. He brought some other things with him, too. Peroxide. Antiseptic and a tube of something or other. Alan looked closely at my left eye, which was badly bruised, and nodded. "Just surface scrapes," he said to David. "It's all the dried blood that makes it look bad. Little bacitricin will help it heal and keep it flexible, so you don't scratch at it. Gonna have a little shiner, but not too bad. Be gone in a couple days." "You a doctor now, Alan?" I asked, half-heartedly attempting to grin. The pain instantly made it a grimace. He smiled, poured some antiseptic onto a cotton wad. "This is gonna sting a little," he gently warned. "Shit!" "Told ya so," he said. "No, not a doctor. But I've sorta had to be a nurse now and then." Then to David, "Get the jets going on that thing and help ease him in. Careful he doesn't slip; he's still not too steady on his feet. Make him ease back." David helped me in, and I let out a sigh as I sat in the bubbling water, which was about as hot as I could stand. The jets whirred around me, and the pain in my side flared for a few seconds, but then it began to feel good, and I relaxed. David continued cleaning my face with the washcloth, and I noticed how red it got. Christ, who'd've thought I had so much blood in me? My nose - yeah, I saw the mess on my shirt long ago, but I thought I'd wiped my face clean. By the

looks of things, all I'd managed to do was smear it around. "Is it broken?" I asked, fearing the worse. "Is what broken?" "My nose!" I said, exasperated. He smiled. "Jesus, I hope not. Size of that thing, you'd need a squad of plastic surgeons, not just a team." "Asshole." "No swelling," Alan said, touching the tip gingerly. "I don't think it's broken. You'd be moaning a shit-load more if it was." David sniggered. "He doesn't moan. He whines. And bitches - let's not forget the bitching." "You're still an asshole. Just a bigger one." I did smile, though. David smirked. "He must be coming out of it. That gutter he calls a mouth is workin' again." Alan noticed his shirt was getting soaked from a combination of the water spray and my blood, and stripped it off, turning to get another towel. I was about to make a joke about how they should pile in for an orgy, but I froze when I saw his back, forgetting my own problems. Alan didn't have a pelt. No hair at all, even on his chest, which I thought was strange considering his arms and legs. But I saw something else on his back, and that made my head spin. It was covered with marks, hundreds of little scars. I'd seen marks like that once, back in junior high. A state social worker came in and gave a lecture on child abuse. She'd shown slides of a child. His back had been covered with marks exactly like this. They were the kind of wounds an appliance cord made on human flesh when it was used as a whip. The lesions were shown bloody and fresh. Photos from a year later showed a series of long, regular white scars that furrowed the skin. That was how they healed over and looked - a year later. The marks were identical to what I saw on Alan's back. I jerked forward, almost spoke - then David put his hand on my chest, and he shook his head. I saw the answer in his eyes, though. I began to understand Alan a little more just then; why he was so reluctant to report a beating at school. I understood why he knew how a bruise could be harmless or painful, how a cut would or would not need stitches. Alan had learned to doctor himself, and learned to hide the evidence. He didn't want anyone else to see the evidence, certainly not a school official. I wondered how the hell he made it through Phys Ed without being discovered. Someone must have seen in the showers... someone had to have seen... and even if he went to a private school, someone would have to question... On the other hand, Alan was resourceful. He was also the school queer, so he kept away from those places, and if he didn't, he was shunned anyway. Alan finished giving my face a sponge bath, and sat back from the spray. I noticed something about his right hand, too. The pinkie was always at an angle to all the others, and seemed to be... twisted? "Why don't you get him something to change into, Dave? And could you maybe lend me a sweatshirt?" "Sure," said David as he hurried into the next room. Alan sat on the side of the tub. "You gonna be ok? You didn't lose consciousness, did you?" I shook my head. His face was devoid of any emotion as he took in how I had cleaned up. He inspected my eye again, and nodded. He took my arm and slowly worked it up and down. I winced, but the hot bath had helped. Then he ran his hand over my thigh, where I had taken a hard kick. I flinched a bit, more of a reflex by now, but it didn't ache as much anymore. "I think you're going to be okay," he said. "Nothing's broken - he connected too low to get your ribs. There'll be some swelling on your right eye, but that'll go down by tomorrow, and the discoloration won't last more than a couple days.

Oh, and the nose ain't broken. But you might consider getting' it bobbed some day, ok?" He grinned, and I gave him a playful swat. "I already told David to shut up. When you're ready to talk, we'll be ready to listen, 'kay?" Alan's hand was on my shoulder, and I looked into those hazel eyes of his. I saw... compassion? I guess that's the word. I could only guess at what this kid went through every day. How many times did you have to look in a mirror at something before you began to know how long a bruise would be livid, or to know when a swelling would go down? How did you become an expert at cleaning out cuts? He could test for rib breaks and fractures. He knew my arm was just twisted and sprained, not dislocated. As he dried me with a large, fluffy towel, I sat there in stunned silence. What kind of life do you lead, Alan? Is pain so much a part of your life you don't fight back just because you're so used to it? Is that why you prefer to be ignored, because being ignored doesn't hurt, at least? I wondered how I'd react to being ignored day after day, except when I served a purpose... like being a punching bag... at home and at school. With that kind of life, how can you possibly stay sweet inside, Alan? The answer came back into the room, holding a change of clothes for me and a dry sweatshirt for Alan. The kid's eyes never left David as he stepped back from us. He watched every move David made with the calculated deliberateness of a mother cat watching her kitten. It wasn't lust, or anything like that. It wasn't obsession. I'm not sure what it was, but it was just something so intense you could feel it. Alan would do anything for David. I began to understand why David was so careful about how his relationship with Alan progressed. It was clear that David could ask Alan for anything, and Alan wouldn't think twice about giving it to him. I tried to stand and step out of the tub, but began to sway unsteadily as a spasm of pain hit my thigh and side. The two of them helped me step over the edge of the Jacuzzi, and seated me on the rim. Alan helped me into the sweat pants while David supported me. It felt good, having their hands on me. Not sexual good, but just... good. I managed to get the shirt over my head, and David gently tucked my arm into the right sleeve. I managed the other myself, and smoothed down the waistband. I got up slowly. David had brought a pair of thick cotton socks with him, but there was too much water on the floor, so I figured it'd be best to slip them on in the hall. I couldn't of course, so Alan helped support me while David pushed them over my feet. Christian St. Jacques, invalid. I felt stupid, and started to apologize for being such a wuss. "Shut up," said David. We began our slow progress down the hall and then the stairs. My legs still worked okay, but it was hard to stand erect with the throbbing pain in my side. "You guys go in and settle in front of the tube," David told us at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm gonna get us some stuff to munch." Alan walked me to the couch, even though I felt a lot better. I could tell by the way the pillows were arranged they'd been curled up there together. Even though I should have moved off to one of the chairs so as not to crowd them, I didn't want to be too far away, either. I needed people around me right now. I carefully slid to the floor after Alan plopped onto the couch. "Why down there?" he asked, his face a big question mark. I hung my head. "Bad enough I'm screwin' up your night. You guys curl together up there, ok? I'm fine down here." "Bullshit." Alan plopped down next to me. "Dave knew you were coming here, and so did I. We called your house and your parents said you'd gone out with Jamie, so we figured it was time for... well, it was time. He expected you'd be a mess - just not a bloody mess." He yanked down the quilt that was tossed on the couch, and spread it over the both of us and snuggled up to me. David came back with bags of cheddar-curls and chips, and three bottles of root beer. He didn't say anything, just dropped down

on the other side of me and pulled the blanket over his legs, too. "Movie just started when you pulled up. I'll set the DVD to start over again, ok?" "This Casablanca?" I asked. "Uh-huh. Twerp's never seen it before. Told him he'd have to turn in his gay card if he didn't watch it." He made a face at Alan, who stuck out his tongue. "Promises, promises," David said with a leer. Alan blushed. "Maybe you and Alan should sit together..." I started. David gave me his devil smile. "Eat me, St. Jacques. We didn't get you naked and clean just so I could hog ya to myself." He raised an eyebrow and ran his tongue over his lips. "We both want a piece of ya tonight." David hit a button on the remote and the lights dimmed. Then we sat back to watch the movie, the three of us sitting tight and warm together. I leaned my head back. The movie started but I wasn't really watching. Another feature was playing in my head. Slowly, the night played back in my mind... I'd tell them about it all tomorrow... But right now, I wanted to relax... Of course, what I wanted and what I could have were two different things. The night started to play in my mind again, and the house lights were coming up in the theatre. Jamie had a glum statement on his face, because I'd pushed his hand away... again. He was just trying to hold hands, and had piled the jackets on the armrest as camouflage, even if there was no one who could see. The theater was nearly empty, and Jamie had picked seats over to the side near the rear. That way he wouldn't be blocking anyone's view. He was good about stuff like that. His size could be a problem for others, and he was always conscious of it. Finally the last credits rolled, the house lights came up, and we could leave. We stepped out into the lobby, which was nothing more than a glassed-in walkway in front of the theater doors with a ticket booth, a substantial snack bar, and just enough room to cue up if there was a line. I can't ever remember seeing a line in this theatre. Well, maybe when you drove past on a Saturday afternoon and they were running a kids' movie. We stopped and looked out. "Shit. It's sleeting." Mixed rain and snow, and I was in a new leather coat. "Don't worry, C. I'll bring the car around." Jamie flashed me his big smile, but I just looked at him in his thin letter jacket, not the tight-woven shiny stuff that repels water but nice, absorbent, almost wool. "I can walk," I said defiantly. "Stop treating me like I'm helpless." "Nah, that's a new coat, and you know what leather's like. I'm guessing you didn't spray it with silicone?" "... um ..." "Thought so. You wait here, and I'll bring Vicky around." "Ok, but I'm gonna duck in for a leak." I thought, Don't call me babe. Not tonight. "No sweat, ba - Chris," he corrected himself. He rushed out into the freezing rain. His beat-up Crown Victoria was at the far end of the lot. It was nice enough when we pulled in, but then, New England's like that. Far cry from the scorching heat of August when we started, when we needed the air conditioner to make sleeping together possible. Now, on the few occasions we managed that, we were cuddled up for the warmth. Heh, I even took to turning down the thermostat an hour before we went to bed just to make sure we did. I wondered if Jamie knew that. It made me smile. It made me forget this was November. I hate November. It's dark by four and you never know what kind of day it'll turn into. It was cold without really being winter, or at least no snow to brighten things up. In October, at least you had the changing leaves to give things color. But by November everything's gone; it's all just browned grass and the naked trees. November's never a good time for me. It's all dead and not much happens, except the nights get longer and colder. A lot of people like Thanksgiving, but that's never been more than a blip on the radar for me - just

a big dinner and a four-day weekend. Not that long weekends are a bad thing. Well, one good thing anyway: it was the marker for Christmas, and that helped. In December, you knew Christmas was coming. And New Year's - yeah, I was starting to have more respect for New Year's, even if it was just for the party mood. It meant a lot of fun, and this year it would be more than just sitting at home watching the highlights of celebrations around the world, and that old guy with a face-lift hosting some bands. It was a good bet my parents would be away. Dad had been mumbling something about Florida after Christmas. And why not? I was old enough, and so far when they went away, there were no disasters for them to return to. February was good, too, even though most people don't think about it much. Even if the ground was still cold and frozen, that's when you really saw the changes in the amount of day, and at five in the evening you could still see around you without turning on the lights. In February you began to notice even the quality of light was different: stronger - brighter somehow - and nothing to do with clouds. It was a nice skate from there to March, and spring. Meanwhile, this was cold November and I still had a long way to go. And I had something to do that part of me didn't want to do. I also had to pee pretty badly, and I did want to do that, so I ducked inside the men's room. I quickly found the porcelain unit of choice, and focused directly on that spot on the wall in front of me that all men find, conscious of a faint smile of relief as I rid myself of the after-effects of a Double Jumbo King Size Coke. I was standing peacefully when I heard the door swing open behind me and slam against the wall. This was followed by a long, loud, from-the-gut burp that was so funny back in junior high, and the loud release of another type of gas from the rear. Then two other things: the smell of stale beer, and the aroma of weed. And of course, with five other units available, the guy had to stand next to me. He must have been a foot and a half away from the urinal and a bad shot to boot, and I looked over. I knew the guy: Richard Ward. My age, but officially two years behind me at Haverhill High. We'd started the same year at All Saints, but Dicky disappeared after the second year, not that it mattered. I didn't like Dicky. Not many did. When he resurfaced in Junior High, he was a year behind me and styling himself Richy or Rich, but it never took. See, if your name is Richard, and you act like a dick... well guess what? It sticks. And if your last name is Ward, and you factor in the New England accent (catch Senator Kennedy between drinks in a news sound-bite), you never pronounce an 'r' when it shows up in the middle of a word. Ward sounds an awful lot like "wahd" the way we talk. So, think it over. Dick. Wahd. As in "Yo, Dickwad!" It took, and it followed him through junior high. When he surfaced again I was starting my junior year, and Dicky was a freshman. But 'Dickwad' still dogged him. And... it kinda suited him, really. Dick was high, I could see that, and he was missing the porcelain pretty badly, and I didn't really care to get piss-splashed, so I forced myself to hurry up a bit and I must have made some sound of disgust. "Fuck're you looking at?" he slurred, glaring at me with his beady eyes. You, you fat, stupid ignorant slob, I thought. You pissing on the floor. "Nothin', Dick. Nothin' at all." Dicky stood there, splashing off the side of the urinal, squinting his beady eyes lost in the pudged-out, pock-riddled face that crowned his two-hundred twenty-five pounds of non-muscular weight that was belted in a vain attempt to hide his gut. Eighteen years old and still a sophomore, not that it mattered. Good ol' Dickwad never bothered with school much, and not even the Dean of Boys seemed to care. I glanced downward, satisfied to see my right foot was still dry.

He swayed, and glared at me. "St. Jacques, you're a Goddamn fag. You're checkin' me out!" I zipped up, and backed away. I probably should've kept my mouth shut, but it was too easy. "Nothing to check out from what I can see, Dickwad," I muttered, and began to walk away. "Fuckin' homo!" he called out behind me. I ignored him and walked back into the lobby and scanned the window, hoping to see Jamie pulled up front. I saw him, but not where I'd wanted him. He was in the far end of the lot with the hood up, bent over, back to me. Vicky was doing what Fords do best: not starting when it's damp and raw out. Jamie never drove anywhere without a can of Wire Dry, which I judged he was emptying out on the engine. I didn't like the idea, but I hated to just leave him there while I stayed dry and warm, because he had to be soaked from the freezing rain and sleet. At least if I walked out there, I could help him by trying to kick over the engine. It might save him a couple of minutes in the cold and wet. I nodded at the girl taking tickets and smiled, and headed out the door. The wind hit me, and a blast of cold, freezing rain, and I ducked my head, trying to blink away the feeling that my eyes were gonna freeze up. I dimly heard the theater door opening behind me but I didn't pay any attention to it, and I was stuffing my hands into my pockets and was about to head across the parking lot when something slammed me... HARD... in the base of my spine, and my face suddenly slammed into a glass wall on my right. I tasted blood, and I could feel the warmth of something flooding over my lower lip. As I found myself sliding down the glass, I saw the girl at the ticket booth standing there, curious at the sound at first, then changing to stunned, open-mouthed horror as she watched my face slide down, leaving a swath of blood. She shouted something, and I saw an older man in the distance turn when I heard Dicky's voice close behind me. His black-shoed foot connected with my stomach just as I was trying to pull myself off the concrete, and I doubled-up in agony. "I'll fix your ass, ya fuckin' little queer!" he bellowed. "Think I'm not good enough for a pussy-boy like you?" His foot came up again and smashed into my right side, and this time my face struck the cinder blocks under the windows. My right eye registered a searing pain... then another blow, this time into my stomach, and I began to retch from the impact. My arm slammed against the wall, producing a blaze of pain that spread like fire from my shoulder to my elbow. I think I just flattened on the ground then, and was trying to push up and cradle my arm at the same time, blinking an eye that was beginning to flood with blood. I couldn't see Dicky well, but I saw his Sketcher-clad foot rearing up again, this time close to my head. His face was dim, but his voice was clear and sharp in my ears. "I'm gonna kick that smart-ass mouth of yours down your fuckin' throat, St. Jacques," he growled. "I don't take no shit from no homo cocksuckers!" He was winding up for another kick, and I knew this one was going to connect with my head. There was nothing I could do. I had no wind left in me, and I couldn't see much more than his foot. Then I heard an animal sound and Dickey was on top of me, and my injured arm folded up at the wrist. Suddenly, the weight of two men was on top of me, but not for long: they rolled off me and then off the sidewalk, onto the ice-covered parking lot. Jamie. Jamie had heard something, and must have turned back to the theater and seen what was happening. I could hear him cursing. Still dazed, I watched as his big, open hand smashed Dicky's face twice, three times. Finally, he got up, and foot-stomped Dicky again, then turned back to me, bending over me. "Baby?" His voice was breathless, and his hands were shaking as he tried to help me to my feet. "Chris, please - say some..." He didn't finish. Dicky was on top of him, his fists balled together, smashing down on the back of Jamie's neck. He flattened out, sliding off me to the

sidewalk, and Dicky started to pound Jamie, sitting on his back and slamming him over and over. I managed to pull myself up, and spotted an ashtray stand by the door. Not much as a weapon - just aluminum, but something. The pain was screaming in my arm and my injured eye was clenched shut. I was still gasping for breath but I managed to pick it up and stagger over to the two figures rolling around on the ice-slick asphalt. I brought it down on Dicky's head as hard as I could - then again, sideways, and he fell off with a thud. I panted for a moment, then decided to go after the bastard again, my mouth drawn back in a snarl. I wanted to kill Dicky. Kill him for what he said, for what he did to me, and for what he was trying to do to Jamie. I never truly hated anyone before this, but I hated Dicky. I wanted to smash his skull open. I wanted to see what he thought of as his brain splattered across the sidewalk. I can't ever imagine feeling like that about anyone before. I'd tasted my own blood, and now I wouldn't be satisfied until I tasted Dicky's. I took a step forward, but a hand stopped me, grabbing my injured shoulder and I dropped the ashtray to the ground with a clatter. "You'll kill him," a voice said matter of factly. "That's what I want," I snarled, jerking away from him. It was the manger of the Cinema, a pudgy guy in his fifties, wearing a stupid blue vest with a badge that read 'Gordon.' Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of flashing blue lights, and turned my head. Salem's finest were pulling into the lot. "Those guys'll take care of him," the man said in a low, soothing voice. "They see you slammin' the bastard, they can get the wrong ideas. Now calm down, kid. Calm down." The cops slammed the brakes, skidding sideways on the ice. Both hopped out of the cruiser, hands covering their guns. They looked at Dicky and Jamie on the ground, and the manager half-supporting me. The manager gestured to Dicky. "He started it. He slammed this kid into the window out front and started kicking him. Paula saw it, too - you can ask her, and this one never had a chance. The blond kid pulled him off, and when he tried to help the little guy up, the fat-ass suckered him. Then this one laid into him." One cop was already covering Dick, but wasn't doing much to help him after the manager spoke. The other cop, an older guy wearing sergeants' stripes, helped Jamie get up and got him out of the freezing rain. The younger cop jerked Dick's collar and half-dragged him to his feet, then he grinned in recognition. "Oh, great. Dicky Ward. 'Sup, Dickwad? Give up shopliftin' at K-Mart for assault?" Dickey looked dazed, but I guess that was normal for him, anyway. I doubted a blow to the head did much: not much to rattle up there. He glared at me, and his voice was a sneer. "The little one's a fag. He tried grabbin' me in the men's room. I hadda hit 'em. You know what homos are like." The cop made a show of sniffing Dickey. "Hmmm. Lemme see... I can smell the beer, and I know you aren't even eighteen yet, never mind twenty-one. And unless my nose is lying, I smell something else, enough to justify a body search." He patted Dick's jacket front, and smiled. Ward didn't, especially when the cop reached into the breast pocket and pulled out a plastic baggie with papers and weed stuffed in. "My, my," he said, taunting. "Possession. Funny, I'm pretty sure you're still on probation for being stupid enough to steal a car with Lojack warnings all over it last summer. Possession is good, but assault's even better." He leaned his face close to the teen, and smiled. Dick tried unsuccessfully to squirm out of his grasp. "Do I know what homos are like, Dickey? No, but you'll find out real soon, I'm thinking. You ain't pretty, but you're young, and some guy on the block is gonna think you look pretty good, once you lose a couple pounds, 'cuz jail food don't taste too good." He leaned Dicky against the wall as he snapped on the cuffs, droning his Miranda

speech. Dicky slipped once on the way to the cruiser, and the cop didn't do much to break his fall. Or to help him up. "You gonna do something about that fag?" Dick shouted as he was being stuffed into the rear seat. "He grabbed me, I'm telling ya!" The cop turned to the manager. "You got surveillance cameras in the men's room?" The manager was still supporting me, and I caught the look he gave the cop. "Didn't think so. You," he said to me, and looked at my ID. "You grab Dick Ward in the men's room, Chris?" I repeated the manager's look. The cop shrugged. "Hey, I gotta ask. So, no one saw you grab that jerk - his word against yours. Meanwhile, at least two people saw him kick the crap out of you, and your buddy comes up and grabs him, then you knock fat ass off when he pounds on..." "...Jamie," I said stubbornly. "He's my boyfriend." The cop clammed up, looked at me, looked at Jamie, and then at the manager. He read the man's nametag. "You didn't hear that last part, did you, Gordon?" Gordon paused, and I could feel his grip relaxing on me. I could feel him distancing from me. The cop looked him in the eye. His face was stone. I looked up at the manger. His face was filled with disgust, and he let me loose. "I didn't hear anything. Just him giving the other kid's name." The cop still kept his hard stare on Gordon. "That's just fine. All I heard was the name, too. Don't forget that. And don't forget what you said you saw, either, because I won't. Now, why don't you go inside, and help that other kid while I talk to Mr. St. Jacques here." Gordon walked away, and I could hear him spit behind me. Jamie was being helped by the girl - 'Paula', I suppose - who'd seen me hit the window, and another of the ushers. Gordon just followed behind. The sergeant reached into his pocket and handed me a handkerchief. His voice was softer, soothing. "Wipe the blood off your face, Chris. And I think it'd be a good idea if you and your buddy checked in at the hospital. I can call an ambulance." I leaned back against the building, tired and sore. "No. I just want to go home." I looked up at him. His face was more relaxed, and the hard, flinty look he'd taken on when I called Jamie my boyfriend was gone. "I'm Sgt. Panatakis," he said, and fished out a card, which I slipped into my pocket without looking at it. "With no one else around, what we say is just your word against mine, so I'm not saying anything but covering the usual routine. Gordy in there," he jerked his head at the theater, "Is already on notice to keep his mouth shut. My partner didn't hear what you said, and neither did I." I gave him a sullen, angry look. "Me being queer means Dickwad's story is true? That what you're saying?" The cop shook his head. "No, it doesn't. Right now, we got a well-known asshole from out-of-state in custody for assault and possession. He goes before the presiding judge up here, and he's gone. Period. That guy's a hard-ass. The one that gave Dicky parole last fall was a visiting justice while the local was on vacation in Martinique. But - let that same judge hear from that piece of crap that you tried to put the make on him, together with a statement in the record that you guys are gay, and then factor in even the dumbest public defender, and all of a sudden it's a panic defense. That asshole on the bench will let it happen. Plus - all of a sudden the Manchester and the Lawrence papers get a hold of the story. One will cries about the fall of society. The other play's up the gay part of the assault, and how terrible that is. But of course, neither one of them wants the idea of Hate Crimes Laws blah blah balh. I got no problem with the Tribune doing that, but you and your... friend... get names plastered over two papers. Or at least yours will, since you're over eighteen." He paused, and gave me a fatherly look. "Kid, I got out of high school thirty

years ago, but from the talk I hear it still isn't too friendly about the 'G' word. Before you set something in motion that can royally screw you, I want you to think. Incidentally, the prosecutor won't allow any questions about your sexuality based just on what that idiot said. But if it becomes part of your statement, he'll have a tough time keeping it out of the case. The presiding judge of this part of Rockingham County isn't exactly the most liberal guy in the world, which is kinda what you might expect in the most conservative state in the Northeast. Hell, we even have a US Senator who thinks the Republican party is too liberal." He leaned down to me, looking me in the eyes. "Dickwad goin' to jail right now is a sure thing. It might not be if you say one small word. Think about that. My report stands, no matter what. If Gordon in there tries to screw with his statement, or add to what he saw or heard before you called that big kid your boyfriend, I'll see him crucified." I knew he was sincere, but I remembered something from my mother earlier that evening. You're less likely to receive police protection. Well, I'd get police protection; I just might not get justice. All because of one thing. One little thing that contributes to making me who I am, not just what I am. That one little thing could get Richard Ward off free. "Come into the station sometime tomorrow and press the charges. We got enough to hold Dick-Boy until he can be arraigned on Tuesday, anyway. Think about what I said before you commit yourself. It's your business what you do." I looked back inside the theater. Jamie had bruises on his cheek, and his clothes were messed up and wet, but that was it. I looked back at Sgt. Panatakis. I liked him, I really did. He cared about what happened to me - what might happen to me if I said the wrong thing. "Think they might let me clean up in there?" I asked. For an answer, Jamie stepped out onto the sidewalk, just as the theater lights blinked off. Gordon was shutting down the Salem Tri-Cinema for the night, and was locking the doors. Sgt. Panatakis squinted his eyes at Gordon, who paused at the door before spinning the lock shut. He didn't look pleased. "I can make him open up." I shook my head. "Forget it. Bastard's prob'ly afraid he'll have to start checking crotches. I just want to go home... " I trailed off. Jamie was beside me now, and he put a hand on my shoulder. I looked into his eyes, and saw the pain he felt there. Not for himself. For me. "C? You okay? I think we better get you to the emergency room." "Good idea," added the cop. I just stood there, trying to shrink into myself. "No. I just want to get out of here. Just take me home, please Jamie? And sergeant," I looked into that hard face with just the slightest hint of a smile. "Thanks, okay? I'll think over what you said. I'll be up to the station in the morning and sign the papers." He nodded, and went to pat me on the shoulder - the wrong shoulder, of course and my knees went week at the sudden flash of pain, but I didn't say anything or make a sound. I didn't want this hospital thing to go on forever. All I wanted was clean clothes and a warm place and some peace. Sgt. Panatakis got back into his car, and the cruiser slowly rolled through the icy parking lot, its blue lights flashing slowly, but without a siren blaring. They carefully eased into the thin traffic on Route 28, and I watched Dicky's scowling face through the back window until the car disappeared. Jamie came around to my good side, and put an arm around my waist to steady me. My thigh was killing me, and I was so cold I was shivering. My jacket was still wide open, since I'd never finished zipping it up. I held the handkerchief to my nose, but the blood wasn't oozing anywhere near as heavily now. Good thing, too. The white linen was saturated with my blood. I suppose I should have thrown it

away, but I stuffed it into my pocket. Jamie opened the door of the Ford and helped me inside, slamming the door. I watched him lean under the hood and I guess spray the engine with Wire Dry again, then he slammed the hood down, walked around and slid in beside me. He turned the ignition. The Ford argued about it; the battery was getting weaker from the attempts to start earlier, you could hear that. Goddamn Ford. Then it caught just as we started to hear this tired wheeze from the starter, and Vicky came to life. Jamie floored it. We waited a few minutes to build the battery back up and then he switched the heater on. At least that always works, I thought gratefully. I looked at Jamie. His eyes were locked on me, and I saw pain in his face. His voice quivered. "Chris, I am so sorry. I let you down. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" I didn't understand him. "You went to get the car," I said, shaking my head. "There's no big deal." He shook his head. "I let you down..." he trailed. "Jamie ..." I started, I was in no mood for this. Not now. "Tomorrow, Chris. We gotta talk tomorrow, ok?" He shifted into Drive, and we carefully crept forward, Jamie easing back on the gas when we heard the tires spinning and the back of the car sway. Fortunately the road had been sanded, and with so little traffic, there was no problem turning left across the four lanes. Even so, he took it easy. We headed south over the Massachusetts border, which was less than a mile away. Jamie slowly turned onto the entry ramp of 213, which would bring us back to the Interstate, and then home. ~~~~~~~~~~ I heard this sound that was like "SNARK!" and jerked my head up, blinking. I had to smile. It was Alan. He'd fallen asleep next to me, and his head was leaned back and to one side and his mouth was open. Oh, great. He snored, too. And drooled. I chuckled, and even that made my side hurt. "Welcome back," I heard Dave say, and looked over to him. I blinked my eyes. I could tell by the music that Casablanca was over, that Humphrey and Claude had committed themselves to the Underground and their beautiful friendship, once the Usual Suspects had been rounded up. "I must have fallen asleep." David twisted his mouth and raised an eyebrow. "No one sleeps that rigid and tense, but then you're weird anyway. Are you gonna be okay, now? Can you handle being alone now?" I had to smile. Couldn't keep much from David. "Yeah, I'm ok. Thanks, Davey." "Okay - sleeping arrangements. Is the couch gonna be alright? It's comfortable, even if you insisted on doing the floor. You got the quilt and extra pillows. I'd offer my bed, but I've made, um... other commitments. Heh." Did I actually see David blushing for once? Yes, I did. I didn't use the advantage though, and I eased away from Alan. David leaned down and shook him gently. Alan was funny to watch. His eyes popped open at David's touch, then he twisted up his face like a gremlin. "Bright light. Grak." The kid stumbled to his feet, blinking. Dave slipped an arm around his waist and they headed for the stairs. It didn't escape my notice that David's hand slipped inside the back of Alan's shorts as they walked off, Alan still leaning against David. I looked at those hairy little legs for a second and it passed through my head that even if his chest and back were bare, he might suddenly fuzz up like a satyr below the belt. One of these days, I'd have to ask David. I was pretty sure he was gonna find out for sure tonight. Without thinking I raised my right arm to switch off the light, and once my silent howl finished and the pain went away, I reached out with my left instead, and settled in for the night, pulling the covers to my head. The last thing I remembered was hoping that I'd be able to get some rest tonight before my lights

switched off, too.

Chapter 10

"The Last Detail"

Warm coffee between my hands. Cold tile under my feet. Turning to look out the window: the dazzle of an ice-storm. Ever look at the trees after one? They reflect every bit of light, brighter than a summer day. You can see the prisms of trapped rainbows in the winter ice. It was only a little past eight, and I still had the house to myself. David and Alan were still... "Cool. Coffee. Urp." I grunted. So much for waxing poetic on a cold winter's morn. Alan shuffled in, this time in David's sweat pants and the same sweat shirt from the night before, but inside out. A pair of white socks were yanked onto his feet, one with the heel side up. His hair stuck up any-old-way, and I could still see the imprint of the pillow on his face. For being only seventeen, the guy had a pretty good morning beard on him. He looked like an extra from an old Miami Vice re-run. I tried to remember what Jamie looked like in the morning. Pretty damn good, I thought. He'd run a hand over his hair and look perfect. I was more like Alan in the morning, except for needing a shave. Alan stumbled over to the counter and poured himself a coffee, ignoring the sugar, not bothering with the fridge for the Half-and-Half. He switched on the radio, but turned the volume down so that it was no more than a whisper. He was careful to clean up the heat rings on the counter plus the trail of crumbs I'd left behind. As he walked towards me, I realized he always seemed to walk on the balls of his feet, not making a sound. He settled in opposite me at the table, barely glancing at me, his eyes no more than slits. "Regular morning person, aren't you?" I said, grinning. He tried for a smile. "I bet you even bust nuts in your sleep. Gimme a break." I sniggered, and pushed over my plate with a half-bagel covered with cream cheese. Alan opened one eye a little wider, and smiled more. I watched him nibble at it. I take good size mouthfuls. Jamie just crams stuff in. David, naturally, dines. Alan was funny about food. He never seemed to do more than nibble at things. No wonder he was the size of a toothpick. Even given the tiny bights he took, that seemed to be enough, and he was looking me over as he came alive. "You need more bacitricin for the scrapes," he said after a quick inspection. "That'll keep 'em from drying up and getting itchy. How's your wrist?" Another cat-nip at the bagel. I turned my hand slightly back and forth and waved my fingers, and he nodded his approval. "Didn't think that was gonna be too bad. Can you raise your arm okay?" "Just to about even with my shoulder before it starts to hurt," I answered, sipping at my coffee. "It's awkward, though." He nodded. "Just go easy, but try to keep it moving just a bit so it doesn't stiffen up, and it should be okay. How's your side?" He came around and gently lifted my shirt as I pulled my sweats down a bit. Ugly, still sore, but nowhere near as tender as the night before. He prodded it gently and I flinched, then he let my shirt drop and sat down again, this time beside me, and pulled his coffee and half-bagel over for more sips and nibbles. "You'll be okay, Chris," he said, with a knowing nod. "The swelling on your face is way down over last night, and that's good. People are gonna know you had some

big-time trouble, but you're nowhere near what you were last night." I looked him over, and a thought crossed my mind. "I gotta know. What does David look like in the morning?" Alan twisted his face up in a rueful look. "Like he's waiting for the close-up for his Big Hollywood Kiss." I loathed David for that. "Lousy bastard. I knew it.". Alan was coming a little more awake now, and he looked me over. There was some hesitation in his voice, and his eyes seemed to want to avoid mine. "So..." he began, "Then you've never seen him in the morning before?" I was confused by the question for a second, then I understood. "Why would I?" I protested. "David and I are friends, Alan. That's it. Sure, we seen each other naked before, but that's just from gym class and stuff like that." I took a long swallow of my coffee, and watched Alan from the corner of my eye. His eyes were focused on the table, and a small smile played over his lips. I continued on. "If you're wonderin' that just 'cuz I'm available again I might be lookin' David's way, don't. It's an idea, and I like it, but he's taken." I paused, and Alan looked up at me with a questioning look. I smiled. "Big time taken, Alan. I don't stand a chance against that guy." Alan stopped and smiled, looked over at me before looking away again, and turned redder. "Hey, what does your mother think of him, anyway?" I asked. He tilted his head to the left, looking quizzical. "No idea, man. She's been dead since I was, like, seven." Now I was confused. "Saturday... David said you borrowed your mom's car." Alan shook his head. "He just didn't know, is all. I live with my sister, Eileen - Lee. But Lee's like eighteen years older. David just assumed when he saw her. They didn't really meet or nuthin'." I was impressed. "Wow. Talk about your second family." Alan didn't see the joke, and when he spoke I understood why. "Unofficially, I'm called the Mistake. The Big Mistake, if you ask my Dad." He almost spat the last word. Even in my morning fog, I could see the mind-field in front of me, and backed off. Alan relaxed suddenly, and that quiet little smile came back. "It's okay, Chris. I been living with Lee now for almost two years, since... well, for two years, anyway. Pop's just pays my way... or else. At least 'till I'm done school, anyway. College too, if I could get into one. He made it clear that was pretty doubtful." It was an awkward pause for both of us, and if it wasn't for David entering the room we might have still been sitting there quietly for some time looking for something else to say. David came in wearing a white terry robe with a high collar. White. What kind of eighteen year-old wears a white robe around the house? Mine's a sort of dingy medium blue, once you got past the stains and stuff. David's was perfect, and as bright as the white ice hanging off the trees outside. With his olive skin, dark hair and eyes, it was perfect on him. And sure enough, he looked like he was ready for a photo op. He came up to Alan and wrapped his arms around the guy's neck then gave him a kiss on the top of his head. "Hey, Toto. Missed you this morning." We watched Alan redden, which seemed to please David to no end. "Hey," I broke in with a laugh, "I thought I was Toto!" David grinned. "Nah. You're too tall to be Toto, now Alan's around. You've been elevated to Munchkin. Besides, Alan's got the fur for it." He plucked a stray hair from Alan's wrist. Alan jumped and swatted him playfully and David wandered over to the fridge and poured himself an orange juice before pulling up a chair close to Alan and claiming a mouthful of bagel.

I was afraid they were gonna start playing kissy-face in front of me, and that really would have been the limit, but they settled for just sitting close to one another, David with an arm slipped around Alan's middle. If he hadn't just been named for a dog, I think Alan would have purred. Alan claimed his bagel back and David made a forlorn face. "You gonna let me starve?" "Ah, Jesus," I muttered in disgust, watching this act. I struggled up and re-opened the bag of bagels, limped across to the counter and popped three into the microwave. "You guys are just so lame. You even let an invalid make your breakfast." In a symbolic gesture of sympathy, Alan held up his empty coffee cup to me. "You have to learn to do things on your own," David offered in a mock sincerity. I dumped the bagels on a plate and grabbed two napkins for them. They watched me shuffle around a little bent over, using only my left arm. I dumped the plate in front of them trying to look annoyed, then took Alan's cup and carefully filled it and my own. I tried using both hands to carry them back, but my right sent out warning signals and I made two trips. David watched me with a malicious glint in his eye. "Just so you know, even though I support the 'hire the handicapped' thing and all, the tip is already down to 10%. You forgot to offer me more juice." My left hand was occupied with coffee, and while I couldn't do much with my right hand, I could gesture, and I made one at David as I sat down. He didn't chuckle, he cackled. We ate and sipped, and I felt two sets of eyes on me. I was content to just let the morning slip by until David banged the table and finally spoke up in exasperation. "Will you for Chrissake quit dickin' around and tell us what happened?" I took a deep breath and sighed. I began, starting with the kitchen and my mother. Both Alan and David got all round-eyed with that, and relieved when they heard the outcome. David seemed especially nervous when I brought up the evidence in the bathroom that caught my mother's attention, and he gave Alan a quick look. Alan just shook his head. "I flushed it. Don't worry." David seemed relieved, and satisfied that one of my questions for later was answered, I filled them in on the after-movie confrontation, right down to the cop's warnings. Dave leaned towards me, and looked me in the eye. "You are gonna press the charges, right? You're not gonna let his big mouth scare you off?" I looked back into his eyes, and my voice was dead cold. "I am going to nail that bastard's ass to the wall. Maybe I smart-mouthed him, but that's no reason to do what he did to me... or to Jamie." From Alan, "And if the gay stuff comes up?" I tried to shrug, and let me tell you, if you've ever injured your shoulder, it's not a good idea. I settled for a grimace. "Then it comes up, and I answer it without perjuring myself and take the chances. Somehow, I think even the most conservative jury could take a look at me and Jamie, then at Dicky, and reasonably figure out that he was in no danger whatever from my wandering hands. But he's not gonna just walk away from this. I really don't see something like this making the papers outside of the 'Police Notes' log, in spite of what Sgt. Panatakis said." "Aha - don't ask, don't tell," David said with a hint of sarcasm. "Very Clintonian. Very correct." That caught me in the gut, almost as hard as Dick's foot did, and I glared at him. "Look, Dave. I'm not real eager to be the new poster boy for hate crimes laws, but I will if I have to. Besides, New Hampshire doesn't have anything like that. If it was here in Massachusetts, I might think about it because we do, and the penalties are harsher. Dick went after me because he's stupid and mean, and

that's it. The rest of his crap is exactly that - it's just crap. I never did a damn thing to make Dickwad think I was cruisin' him. That's something he invented in his mind, and threw at us later when he was lookin' for some kind of excuse when the cops got there. "And you know what?" I went on, happy to be on a roll. "They paid absolutely no attention to his bullshit, just cuffed him and took him away. The only reason Sgt. Panatakis even said anything is because of something I said. I know the guy meant well, he thinks he was doing a decent thing, and he is, really. But - I am not gonna be scared off this. Once we're done, I want us to get cleaned up and for you to give me a ride over to Salem. I'm going to make the formal charges and sign the complaint, or whatever I have to do." "What about your family?" David began. "Shouldn't you -" "No," I said, shaking my head firmly. "This has nothin' to do with them. Maybe I can't buy a beer, or even a porn mag, but I got some rights as a citizen and I'm going to make use of 'em. I don't need their permission for this, and there's no reason they should be involved in this part. Maybe we're off school for Veteran's Day, but it's just another work day for both of them and I'm not about to have them leavin' their jobs for something this easy to deal with. Tonight, yeah - I gotta tell 'em then, 'cuz one look at me and they'll kind of figure out something happened. And after that... well, I'll have a long, private talk with my dad." I felt a lump in my throat. "I don't look forward to that... and I hope my mother is right about him. There're better circumstances I can think for him and me to talk about this, but I'm not gonna walk a tightrope and play any more games." David had a real meek look on his face, and backed off. Alan had been watching and listening to us both, eyes shifting between us. "There's still school," he added quietly. I wasn't going to be cowed. "Screw 'em. People can believe me or not. Someone wants to try waling on me, let 'em try. I am not helpless, even if I'm not much of a fighter. That's one of the things Jamie and I had it out on, coming home last night. I'm not gonna be one of those guys who lay down and let themselves be used for a doormat." Alan looked up suddenly and stared off to the left, at the window. Feline, he rose quickly from his chair, walking on the balls of his feet again, and peered out the window. David and I both watched him. I was amazed at his speed and grace, but Dave seemed used to it. It didn't stop David's mouth, however. "You haven't told us what he said in the car, yet." "Don't think he's gonna get the chance to, either," Alan broke in, still staring through the blinds. "Take a look at who just slid into your driveway." I started to get up, but David placed a hand on my shoulder and joined Alan at the window. "Oh, shit. It's Jamie." Then he snickered. "And that's Jamie slipping on the ice and fallin' on his ass!" I'd managed to get up and followed them to the window and looked out, but Jamie was on his feet by now and was scowling. Then he spotted us in the window, and his statement changed. He smiled at me, but it was a weak smile. His eyes had a sad look to them. He's scared, I thought. He doesn't know what to expect from me. David and Alan both ducked down, leaving me standing there alone. "Should I let him in?" David asked. I almost shrugged again but thought better of it. "Yeah, why not?" I said. No reason to put this off any more. Just... just give us some time alone, okay? I don't think either one of us wants any company for this." David nodded and went around to the front door. I turned to Alan who was standing next to me, peering out from around the corner. "Look," I said quietly. "I'm sorry about that shot about just layin' down and lettin' people use me for a doormat. That... that wasn't directed at you."

He bit his lip and looked down, but rolled his eyes up to me in a sideways glance, then gave me a gentle smile. "I know. Don't worry." His head jerked up again, and I could almost see his ears prick up. Jamie was in the house. I could just make out his voice, just the sound of it but not his words, and his feet stamping on the marble floor, shaking off the ice and snow. Then they were in the kitchen door. Dave sidled over and put a hand on Alan's shoulder and the two of them started edging for the door. Jamie stepped fully into the room, looking nervous. "Umm, where are you guys gonna be?" I asked, nervously. "We'll be in the living room, practicin' a new game Alan and I were playing before you got here last night," David said, trying on a look of moronic innocence and nodding his head like a plastic dog in a rear window of a car. "He's damn good at it." "Game?" I asked. "Yeah. It's called Tongue Hockey. Well, call if you need us!" He practically dragged Alan out of the room by the hand. And so we were alone. We stood there, wondering what to do next. There was what I guess they call a pregnant pause. I tried looking him in the eye, but neither one of us really wanted that. "I guess we should sit. There's - there's coffee on the counter. Mugs in the cabinet just above," I said quietly, and settled back into my chair. "I'd get it for you, but I'm a little slow this morning." Jamie seemed grateful to have something to do and smiled. He unzipped his coat not the letter jacket from the night before, but a deep blue down-filled coat. He slipped it over the back of the chair, then tossed his red Head gloves onto the table. He kept his cap on but pushed it to the back of his head. It was an old wool Patriots ball cap, and Jamie's new 'favorite thing'. He'd picked it up at a flea market a few weeks before. It featured the old Patriots logo, the wild-eyed Minute Man who looked more like a drunken sailor than anything else. I'd made fun of him for wasting twenty bucks until he showed me a catalogue. Jamie would make quite a profit on that cap if he ever decided to sell it. He poured himself a large mug of coffee and sat down opposite me. I just slid the plate of cooled bagels in front of him, figuring to save us both time. He smiled and began munching happily while I waited. "How did you know I was here?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice even. Jamie smiled, and washed down a half-bagel with a mouthful of coffee, then he shrugged. "I swung by your house first thing this morning, and when I didn't see your car, I figured you had to be here," he said simply. "I knew you didn't go into your house last night." I hoped he hadn't called the house, and said so. He shook his head. "No. If you went in, the last thing anyone would've wanted was me on the phone for another round. You had enough to explain, but I didn't go right home after. I drove by your house later and didn't see the car. When I still didn't see it this morning... well, how many places did you have to go? I knew Dave's folks were out of town." He smiled. "I didn't know about Alan, though. Cute." "Yeah, he is, and they go good together." I swallowed, because I was about to bring it all home. "Kinda like I thought we did." It did hit home, and fast. Jamie dropped his eyes for a moment, then looked up to my face. I could see a lot of things in those eyes. I saw pain and sorrow. And on the edge, I think I saw tears. I wondered if he could see all of that in mine... but with anger added in. Jamie shook his head. "I know you're mad, babe. I let you down last night when that asshole got a hold of you. I never should've left you there like that." I slammed my good hand down on the table. "Jesus Christ, Jamie, will you give that a rest? What happened with Dick and me had nothing to do with you - got that? You went to get the car, and I went to take a leak. I really can do that

without you being there to hold it for me. He said something, and I wised-off at him, and he was drunk enough and high enough to come after me. He came up behind me and you had your back to us tryin' to get that old junk of yours going. That is not your fault!" I stood up, my heart starting to race. "You drove me nuts all the way home last night saying that stuff. See, contrary to what you think, this isn't some fairy tale romance, and I'm not some helpless chick-with-a-dick livin' in some enchanted kingdom waiting for my Prince to come to my rescue. I'm a friggin' eighteen year old guy who's been hit before and who'll likely get hit again some day. I'm not ungrateful for the help, believe me, because I don't know if you realized it but his next kick was gonna be aimed at my head when you came down on him. Man, am I ever grateful for that! I really would be in the hospital now if that one connected. And I owe you for that - owe you really big, and I'll never forget that." "You helped me out, too," he added. "That's right, I did," I said, "And maybe it wasn't much but it was the best I could do and as fast as I could do it, just like you did for me. You don't hold it against me that I couldn't stop him sooner, right?" Jamie shook his head. "So why the hell is it so hard for you to believe that I don't hold it against you for 'not being there' for me like you keep saying? Or... " I paused, and here I prepared for what my mother had taught me to do, and what my own nature inclined me towards. I was about to move in for the kill, just a little flick of the tongue to draw blood. "Or maybe you're feeling guilty about something else? You can't be forgetting what I said to you when I slammed the door, can you?" He shrunk into himself with that. I don't know how he thought we wouldn't be getting back to those parting words of mine, but I had the idea that he really thought we would. Jamie had kept hammering at me to stay with him that night, and I kept on telling him to take me home, but he kept at it, even when we were pulling into my driveway. I couldn't take it anymore, and I just blew up and named the names, leaving no doubt about what I knew. "How did you find out?" he asked, in a muffled voice. I locked my eyes on his, and didn't shift off when he did. "David and I followed you Saturday. And Alan, too. We tag-teamed you to that house in Methuen. Oh yeah, and David recognized Jeremy's car." Jamie leaned down, hunching his chin onto his folded arms. "I didn't know he was gonna be there," he said lamely, looking at the floor again. "That was Steve's doing." I paused. "Who's Steve?" "Steve? Steve Rurak. You met him. He works at Old Navy with me." I had a fuzzy notion of a tall, lean guy with spiked black hair and gray eyes. Until then I never knew his last name. Didn't know he was gay, either. Not the guy I remembered from Halloween, not the same body, anyway. That guy was built like Jamie. Steve was thin and reedy. Where did the other guy fit in? I swallowed hard, glaring at him. "Okay, you didn't know he was going to be there," I spat out. "But you parked right in back of the guy, and don't bother trying to tell me you didn't recognize that car. That model is two years old, and I got a feeling that in Jeremy's family, they don't 'do' second hand cars, any more than Jeremy 'does' boyfriends. Unless, of course, it's someone else's boyfriend." Jamie lifted his head, but slumped back in the chair. His voice was low, filled with pain. "Baby, I - I'm so sorry. I mean... yeah, I should have left as soon as I saw it, and -" "Wrong answer, Jamie!" I was shouting now. What the hell, might as well make it that much easier for Dave and Alan. With Alan's hearing, he couldn't have missed much anyway. "You never shoulda been there in the first place!" He slammed his fist down on the table. The plates jumped and the coffee sloshed

out of its cup. "We never talked about us being exclusive to each other! I never promised anything like that!" "And I thought it was part of the deal!" I snapped. He leaned across the table, glaring at me. "Guess the fuck you were wrong!" And I leaned in right back. "Guess the fuck you're right!" Jamie's fists were clenching and unclenching. Let him strike out, I didn't care. I was fully conscious of the fact that Jamie could have broken me in half with very little effort, but I wasn't about to back off. I was entitled to my pound of flesh, and I intended to have it - all of it, and the blood that went with it, too. I wasn't Shylock. I wasn't about to be cheated out of what was mine. I heard the clearing of a throat. David was standing in the doorway, still dressed in his white robe. "Jamie," he said quietly. "I think maybe you better leave." "David, please," I interrupted in a controlled voice. "Nothing's gonna happen. Just... let him and me finish this out, okay?" David leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, looking from one face to the other. Finally he focused on me. "We'll be in the living room. I hear any more shouting, Jamie's out on his ass." "You taking sides now?" Jamie snarled. "Yes," he answered calmly, and turned an expressionless face to Jamie. "Chris is my friend; you're along for the ride. Usually you're a nice guy, Jay, and I really do like you. But if you wanna make me pick, I'll see you next Tuesday." He narrowed his eyes at him, but spoke to me. "He touches you, and I'm callin' the cops. I don't give a damn what you say. It's my house." He left. I got back in my chair, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. Jamie twisted his face around, twisted his whole body around in that small chair. "I'm sorry I started yellin'," he offered. "I lost it, 'cuz I knew I was trapped." "I shouldn't have yelled either." He looked at the ground again, then back up to me. His eyes were all innocence. "I'll never go behind your back again, C. I promise. It was just that one time, and..." I sighed, and leaned down, rubbing my forehead. I could feel the tension just building and building behind my eyes. "Jesus, Jamie - David was right," I said, disgusted. "Get the fuck out." He sat there, blinking. "I don't get it." "Yeah, you got it," I said sarcastically. "And so did I. I got a dose of the crabs from you a week ago! Haven't you noticed you got them? Hope not. Be nice for Jeremy and what's-his-name if they had a little reminder of your 'fun' on Saturday." Jamie winced. "Oh, yeah, and I met Kenny," I continued. "Remember him? Nice-lookin' guy from Lawrence, beautiful long hair. He goes to Merrimack. You got together with him after work the night David and I went to the Runner in Manchester. He was a little late because he and I ran into each other and had a little talk. But you probably didn't say much about that, since the two of you only got together like three or four times since the end of summer, so I'm willing to bet conversation was minimal. Hey," I said snapping my fingers, like it was a great revelation. "Isn't that when we got together? Wow, and you only got together three or four times? Talk about restraint!" He sat there, lips open, but mouth puckered into a small 'o'. His jaw was slack, and I could see the color draining from his face. Nothing like the rat when he finds himself caught in the trap and knows there's no escape. Jamie's hands dropped to his lap, neither opened nor closed, just hanging limply. He lowered his head and stared at the table, like there was some secret door there that would let him escape. There wasn't though, and he knew it.

He looked up with a tragic statement on his face, his eyes all innocence and sincerity. "Babe, please! You gotta believe me!" I cocked my head and scowled at him. "Believe what? You haven't told me anything." His head bobbed back and forth, like he was C3PO in overload mode. "I never meant..." "Never meant what? To get caught?" "Honest to God, Chris. I broke it off with Kenny! That night! That's why I met him, to break it off!" I sneered. "Yeah, but not 'till after you got a piece!" "We didn't do anything but talk it out! I swear!" "Bullshit, Jamie! He left two hickeys on your back. Kenny likes to leave his mark, just like Eric said!" He stopped cold. "Eric? How the hell did you meet him? Eric's a slime bucket." "David was trying to pick him up, not that it matters. And you are the LAST guy who should be calling someone a slime bucket!" He glared at me. "Who the hell are you to call me names?" "I'm the guy you been fuckin' more ways than one after you get done fuckin' every one else! And I'm the one that isn't fuckin' around." Jamie stood up, and I think he wanted to kick the chair across the room, except he knew it would bring David back. His jaw was clamped up solid, and I swore I could hear the sound of his teeth grinding. Both fists were clenched, and he turned away from me and punched at the air, making harsh grunting sounds. Then suddenly I heard his breath rush out and he folded over, and stood there with his hands dangling at his sides. He turned back to me, with a tired, pained face. "C... You gotta understand, babe. It's just sex! It don't really mean anything. It's... it's..." "Yeah," I filled in with a soft, matter-of-fact tone, and nodded my head. "You're just like that guy on Queer as Folk. It's just fucking. And I'm just another fuck." He closed his eyes, shaking his head while he lowered it. "No, Chris. I love you, man. I really do. All those other guys, they don't mean anything, it's just... sex. That's all." He looked up at me, and his eyes locked on mine. "I love you man. I really do..." his voice trailed off in a whisper, and he started to move towards me as if to take me in his arms. I pulled back, too fast, and I felt the stab in my side almost as sharp as the one in my heart. Tell me what I need to hear, I thought to myself. Even if it's a lie, tell me what I need to hear... Never take less than you deserve. His voice cracked, and it lost it's throaty rumble, and was as high-pitched as a baby's. "I love you," he said simply. "I really do love you." I wanted to reach out and grab him in my arms, and lock my lips on his. I was shaking, terrified of losing him, and of being alone again like I was last summer... When I thought all I needed was sex and I'd be fine, that sex was the magic answer to everything, that being gay just meant everything was just sex. I wanted things to be like everything was before the night David and I thought it might be fun to go dancing in a club, surrounded by other gay people. I wanted so badly to put this behind us, to have Jamie make me a promise even if he didn't mean to keep it for long. When one person deliberately does something they know will hurt the other, then it's not love... never take less than you deserve. My heart hardened, and so did my voice. "Yeah, Jamie. You love me so much you jump in the sack with everyone you meet. And sometimes you bring friends home with you when you leave, and give 'em to me." Jamie's jaw clenched and unclenched. "That was Kevin, and that was an accident, Chris. He... he said he was with someone the night before..."

I blinked, not quite getting it. "Who the hell is Kevin?" I asked. "Uh... well... he's someone I met last summer." He actually managed to look embarrassed. "I... met him in the South End in Boston." "Great," I said mocking. "Nice to know you keep contact with your casuals." "No, I haven't seen him since! Well..." He was desperately looking for words, but not finding them. I enjoyed his loss. "Well, I ran into him again at the Salem Festival - Halloween." Okay, now I had a name for the athletic body I saw through the crowd. "So... I guess Kevin goes to U-Mass Amherst, now?" Jamie swallowed. Hard. "Um, no, actually he works at a store in the South End... in Boston. The Marquis DeSade." He smiled. "That's where I picked up your... birthday present." I kept a blank face. "Right. Then it's a jewelry shop? You got my silver bracelet there?" He sniggered. "Um, no. They sell magazines and... toys." His eyes brightened. "I got the Johan there. You remember - " I held up a hand. I remembered all to well. "So, let me get all this. You lied about going up to Amherst so you could spend the weekend humping this guy named Kevin who works in a dildo shop." I nodded appreciatively, but added an edge to my voice. "You know, Jamie, that just makes things so much easier to deal with. See, I figured you went all the way out to the Berkshires to hang out with your cousin and maybe you guys got to partying and you sorta met something hot... well, you know how it is. Couple beers, maybe some weed, things go too far... nothing nasty, like it was something planned, and you had to lie to everyone to go through with it. Oh and get others to help you lie, like your cousin. But then, you're used to that. Hell, you used to have your brother lie for you, so what's a cousin?" Jamie sat there, shaking his head. "Man, you make it all sound so... dirty." "That's 'cuz it IS dirty, Jamie!" I said, exasperated. "So, let's get down to it. When did you find out Kevin was serving up side orders of crab-to-go?" "Man, you are making this out like I'm some kinda criminal!" His brows were knitted, and his forehead furrowed. "Okay, okay. Kevin and me got together, and in the morning we realized there was some... uh, wild life, and we washed our clothes and showered down with some stuff. I really thought we got everything... and... well, I did another shampoo when I got home..." his voice trailed as he saw my face filling with anger. My face was stone. "But before that you decided you needed to drop another load, so you swung by to see me. Before scrubbing down a second time." He hung his head. "I mean... yeah, they're gross... but it's not like they're anything serious, Chris... I - I got careless, is all. It was an accident." I stood there nodding my head, like I was mulling it over. I fought to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, because I didn't want us to get side-tracked, and Jamie would do anything to find a switch on the rails, I was pretty sure. I began to pace back and forth. "Yeah, just a few bugs, Jamie. And next time you get careless and something happens, we can go down to the Doctor's Center on Main and get his-and-his shots of penicillin. But what about the time after that, Jamie? Do we get together and compare recipes for HIV cocktails? Pick out a nice, friendly hospice aimed for the younger crowd?" He shook his head and affected a big smile. "C'mon, C. All that's just crap, and you know it! I always play safe." "That's great, Jamie, just great. But here's a hint: rubbers break, and you aren't always on top. And yeah, I know oral is relatively safe, or so they say. But they still just say 'relatively', because they aren't totally sure. And I know what an expert you are at head, and there's only one way you get that good." He cocked his head to one side. "I only... you know..." he made a gulping sound, and jerked one shoulder up. "I only do that for you."

I was so tired of all this. Last night, now today... and oh yeah, a month of having my heart ripped out while the evidence mounted and I was desperate not to see it. "Look, Jamie, if you wanna go out and play Russian Roulette with your cock, that's fine. But I don't wanna find myself catchin' a ricochet just so you can have your fun. I'm sick of this... stuff... and we're done. Now just get out. Tomorrow at school, don't talk to me. And if you come into Border's, it better be to just buy the new issue of XY. And don't come by my house anymore, ok? And that includes Sundays with my old man." He glared at me. "No shit, Chris. Even I could figure that one out." I drew my lips back over my teeth and spat out the words. "I just wanna make sure the big, dumb, football jock understands me." I told you once about Jamie. He's eighty pounds of muscle heavier than me, stands eight inches taller. I've watched him bench-press 220 in ten fast reps. He can struggle his way through a slower set of ten at 275 lbs. His hands are just... enormous. I watched his left hand and arm draw up high to his right shoulder. I could see the cuts and bruises in the flesh left the night before when he'd slapped Dicky Ward. I remember thinking that it was lucky he'd taken off his class ring, that his ring could have really done some serious damage. I watched his left arm and the back of his hand spring away from his right shoulder, felt the hard hand connecting with my cheek, was conscious of the twisting of my head as my neck snapped to the left. I felt my teeth jarring in their sockets, and I am sure my feet left the ground. My head struck the wall, and there is a dent in the sheet rock to this day. Like I said, Jamie had eighty pounds more of muscle behind him than I did, and it felt like he'd put everything he had behind that back-hand slap. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a PE instructor who taught us a bit about boxing and self defense. He had an interesting philosophy. The way he explained it, if you punched your opponent with a closed fist, that was something manly about that - a fist was a sign of respect. But if you slapped him, it was to show contempt. Strange thing to be running through my head, I thought as I slid to the floor, while the blood ran out of my nose again and over my lips and on down onto David's sweatshirt. I sat slumped on the ceramic tile floor. My eyes flew open and I saw Jamie standing there. I remember every detail of the animal snarl on his face dissolving to a questioning look, then the slow horror registered in his eyes and then his face of the full realization of what he had just done. I heard voices, but all I saw was Jamie's scared look, and the tears suddenly running down his cheeks, and he was shaking his head. Then there was a blur of bodies between us, and all I saw was white terry to my right and soft, red cotton to my left. David and Alan put themselves between the two of us. Alan snapped up a chair and swung it high to his shoulders like a weapon. "Try something, asshole," he growled. "Took me fourteen years before I'd fight back, but I finally did - so just try something." "Get your stuff on and get outta my house, Levesque. Now." I could hear the confusion in Jamie's voice, and a strange sort of fear. "Guys... please, you don't - Chris, tell 'em - " David's voice was almost a whisper, but whispers can still be steel knives flying through the air. "He's not your toy any more, Jay. And I'll see you in hell before you use him for a punching bag again." I couldn't see him, of course. I wasn't really looking up. I was watching the blood running down the front of my shirt again, and somewhere in the back of my mind I was thinking how I'd have to get David a new one. It was a light blue one, and the stain would never come out. "Babe?" I looked up, and David and Alan had stepped back a little, and I could see him.

Jamie's face was white, and his lower lip quivered. His eyes locked onto the blood flowing from my nose. "Oh, Jesus..." There's not one doubt in my mind that he truly regretted what he had done. Or that if I hadn't needled him so much, maybe I wouldn't have pushed him over the edge. I blamed myself. But I blamed him, too. I pushed him with words, but he'd cornered me with his actions. No good guy. No bad guy. "Jamie, just go," I said quietly. "Honey-" I felt it inside me. Something just ripped to pieces and died, deep inside me. It hurt, more than the pain in my face, or in the back of my head. Then I remembered flying back and hitting against the wall. I looked up at him, and I wonder to this day if my eyes showed either the pain or the coldness that I felt. "Just go home, Jamie," I said wearily. "But don't ever call me 'honey', or 'babe', or anything like that again, okay? I'll see you at school." "Will - can we talk this out there?" I took in the big, beautiful man that had dazzled me. He'd stood up for me, he'd made love to me, he'd told me he loved me. But he'd lied, and he'd snuck around, and he'd cheated and he'd lied again even when he knew I had the truth. Jamie just wanted what he wanted, that was all. Maybe he even did feel something more for me than just someone handy to drop a quick load with. But it just didn't matter any more. Everyone wants to be loved, or think they're loved, but how long do you trade off the truth just for an illusion? I'd spent a month avoiding the truth. Not ten minutes ago - no, more like five minutes ago - I was willing to settle for another lie just to desperately hang onto that illusion. David was at my side, holding out some paper towels and I wiped at my face again, bunching one up under my nose. Alan had put the chair down but he hadn't released his hold on it. His alert eyes never left Jamie for a second, with the intensity of a lion-tamer in a cage. His face was hard and fierce, and his lips were drawn back over his teeth. He'd break that chair across Jamie's head if he had to. "There's nothin' left to say, Jamie. I don't need any more lies, any more fights, any more screaming. We got classes together, so maybe we'll see each other there. We might have to say something to each other, but that's all. Keep away from me in the halls. Don't come near my house again. Okay?" "Chris..." he choked. I was looking down at the blood-drenched rag. My voice was weary, dead. "Enough. I've had enough. Just get out." Jamie was motionless, head hanging, and staring at the floor. Then he pulled on his blue jacket, grabbed the red-felt gloves with the black suede hand grips, and walked quietly to the door. I heard the front door swing open, and I half expected to hear a thunderous slam, but all we heard was the quiet 'thunk' as the heavy oak door was pulled back into its jamb, and the 'snick' of the latch set catching. My two friends did their best to help me up again and get me seated back in a chair. The same chair that Alan was ready to use on Jamie. For a long time I stared down at the table, and the silent tears ran down my cheeks. I didn't whine or shake. The tears weren't from the physical pain, though there was enough of that: the back of my head still throbbed, and my nose didn't really need a second mauling in twenty-four hours. It was the part that was ripped out of me that hurt. For three months, Jamie had been the center of my life. For three months, I was no longer alone. For three months, I had someone I thought I could share with, and I don't mean just our bodies. I tried to think what it was going to be like, just living inside my head again, and keeping everything saved up there. I'd been alone for so long...

and now I had to learn to live like that again. Part of me wished I'd never been so horny on a night in August that I was willing to offer myself to almost anyone that wanted to use me, because that's what I thought it was all about. Maybe I would have been better off settling for an anonymous blow job in the bushes. I felt a firm hand on my shoulder - the good shoulder, at least - and jerked my head up. It was David, smiling, or trying to, and speaking to me. "Chris?" he said quietly. "We're here for you. You gonna be okay?" I turned a little to my right, and there was Alan, hovering behind Dave. His eyes were big with terror and pain, set in that thin face. His mouth was a small red 'o'. Alan knew all to well what it was like to be hurt by someone you thought was supposed to love you. I smiled then, and just leaned my head against David, and gestured to Alan to come closer. He did and I wrapped my arms around both of them. I realized that maybe I had lost a boyfriend, but I really wasn't alone. Thanks to the relationship with Jamie, I did have someone, or two someones really, who cared. And if it weren't for Jamie, they wouldn't be here now when I needed them. David and I would have been strangers who worked and went to school together, exchanging a couple of clever words now and then. Maybe David would never have met Alan, either; just gone on bouncing in the bedroom with Jeremy or someone like him when he needed a release. And little Alan, more lost than all of us... where would you be? I felt the liquid on my chest and remembered again. "Jesus. I ruined another shirt." David smiled. "Hey, don't worry. It's old." I looked down at the logo. "Damn - A & F, no less. You got nice old rags." "So you'll pardon me if the next one I lend you is a Champion. Fifteen bucks for a nose-wipe is better than fifty, ok?" He helped me to my feet, and up the stairs again for a shower. I had a lot of other things to do that day, like filing a criminal complaint and then letting my boss know I wouldn't be around for a few days. Oh yeah, and then there was going to be that long talk with my parents... especially my father.

Epilogue And that was it. David and I drove back to my house, with Alan driving my car. It was one thing to drive to David's even on ice-slick roads slowly, with no traffic; another thing to make it through the busy streets of Haverhill on a regular day that really wasn't much of a holiday except for schools and some government offices. David was my chauffeur for that day. We had to take 213 to connect with Salem, so we stopped at The Loop and Borders. Daniel Prendegast took one look at me, heard the short version of what happened, and told me to take the rest of the week off. I'd miss the money, yeah, but I was glad he offered. Hell, I was going to take the time off anyway. I needed some time to heal, physically and mentally. The Salem Police Department on Cluff Road was next, and everything was easy. I read over Sgt. Panatakis' report, and signed it. They took another statement from me. I stated the facts, from the time Dicky walked into the Men's Room and our conversation there until the police cruiser arrived at the Salem Tri Cinema. I just gave them the facts, and they asked no questions. I was curious about Dicky though, and they told me he was still in custody. He'd made his call, but curiously, no one from his family had bothered asking about bail arrangements. When the case came to court, we were told there was a plea bargain. Dick admitted to the facts of the case in open court, and confessed that his attack

was unprovoked. There was no mention of the possession and use charge; maybe that was what the Rockingham County Attorney used for a bargaining chip. The judge listened to the sentencing recommendations and added to it. There was no reference to me having tried to 'molest' him. It wasn't the heaviest of sentencing, but it was enough to give good ol' Dickwad a taste of the New Hampshire Penal System. They found him culpable as an adult since he was close enough to his eighteenth birthday. It didn't help that he was already on probation. He spent about six months in the Men's State Prison in Concord. I hoped Sgt. Panatakis' partner was right about Dickwad being considered prime meat once he lost a couple of pounds, and he got a taste of the penis system, too. David and Alan just hung out with me for the rest of the day. I said they should go do something together, but Dave wised at me, saying they had to hang in for a suicide watch 'till my parents got home. Both those weasels beat their feet out the door when my Dad pulled up, though - the cowards. Frankly, I wished I could join them. His first question was, "Did Jamie hit you?" "No," I lied, or maybe not, since that was a separate situation. Then he asked me the things he did the only other time I got beat up good in a fight: what happened, who was it, was I okay, and did I fight back? He was satisfied with the honest answers I gave him and he listened to the whole story, just nodding. He said he would be in court with me that day. After that, we had another long discussion which continued after my mother got home. I told him about me, and about Jamie. I told them what Dicky claimed happened and that it might come up in court. He wasn't upset, but I knew he was confused and really didn't know what to say, so he did what he always did when he should have just shut up; he said the wrong thing. "You're not gonna start wearing dresses and stuff, are you?" My mother sat there and shut her eyes, shaking her head. "Jesus, Roland. Do you ever think before you open your mouth?" He made some dumb faces and wobbled his head while shrugging, and muttered a "Sorry". He never asked about Jamie; it would have surprised me if he had. He never asked about any of my friends after that, either. I mean, no personal questions beyond the occasional "You seeing him?" and letting it go at that. A couple of times when I smiled and said 'no' he just nodded his head and said, "Thank Christ." Well, that's the old man. He liked David, and God knows why, but he always seemed to roll out the red carpet when Alan came by. He pretty much understood they were a couple. Which brings us to now: February, 2002. For five months I've sat in front of my monitor at odd times, recording three important months of my life. See, I took this course in psychology last semester when I started at U-Mass Lowell, and the instructor mentioned in a discussion that sometimes when a situation from the past haunts you, it helps if you can organize and record the events, to put them in some sort of perspective, and that's what I've done here. He felt that this allowed you to look at things with a little less passion, and think things through, rather than just act on an emotional response. The whole thing is still with me, you see. Jamie was the first man to ever say he loved me, and I bought that blindly, even if I did fight the truth in front of me for a third of our relationship. Alternately, I told myself I'd expected too much, then that I'd put off the inevitable too long. I hated and loved Jamie for a long time after that. To make things worse, when I returned to school at the end of that week, I had to deal with him sitting one row to the left, just a few seats behind and just out of my peripheral vision. But I never felt his eyes on me again. After Christmas break and the start of the new semester, I looked over my classes and realized for the first time in three and a half years, Jamie

Levesque wasn't in a single one of my classes. I was relieved, but sad, too. We'd pass in the halls, but neither of us would make any eye contact. We'd speak if we had to, and make the pleasant sounds that are expected when others were around, but neither of us ever sought out the other again. Sometimes, I missed that ham-hock of a hand squeezing my shoulder. Then a phantom pain would flash again in my mind, and I'd be on the floor looking up at the sorrow hidden behind blue eyes. Maybe I didn't find the love of my life, but at least I had a warm memory of an early fall day at the shore and feeling the warmth of being with someone. There was more than a few nights of just two horny teenagers having sex; it really was an act of love - the only way Jamie really knew how to love, for whatever reason. And me, I came out of a self-imposed shell I had built around myself, and found that I could have a lot of the things I told myself would always be held back from me while I lead a shadow life. I could have friends, I could have intimacy, I could even have love in time, even if not at that moment. But you have to look for love, not just imagine it's there just because you're lonely. And love doesn't always mean a lover. Sometimes, it's just the guys you think of as your best friends - and I've got a couple of them, thank God. After graduation I never really saw Jamie again. I heard he'd gone to some college in New York, but whether it was in the City or upstate I never knew. I'm betting the City. Jamie likes to explore, after all. Today was an interesting day, too. See, a few weeks ago, just after New Year's when we were getting ready for the second term, I found an envelope in the mail. No stamp, no address, just my name. I knew the handwriting, of course - Jamie's. Inside was a photo of the two of us from Halloween - me in my angel costume, Jamie as the Demon Lord. His arms are around me and his nose is against my cheek. He's smiling. Me, I look startled but happy as I look into the camera, my mouth open as usual. It's a well-worn photo, like it was handled a lot. There wasn't much of a note in the envelope, just a single word. "Sorry." But today another envelope arrived, with all the postal markings. Jamie had transferred to College of the Holy Cross, just in Worcester. Claimed he couldn't take the big city. He wants us to meet over Spring Break. I'm thinking about it, and maybe we will. It's something I'm going to talk to David about. Yeah, and Alan, too. Things will never be the same again of course, but... it's still unfinished business, so maybe it was a good idea to set this down and get a little perspective on the matter. I even dug out the ring I bought him for his birthday but never given to him, and looked at the inscription on the reverse of the heart: JL & CStJ Aug, 00 I have to snicker at the date, "00". The big double nothing; that was us. Snake eyes. I'm thinking maybe we can meet. It'll be in a public place though - very public. Maybe we can salvage a friendship out of this. I don't see much more than that, though. Even a friendship would be tough at first, never mind anything else. I guess it's time to wrap this up and tuck it away in my special file again. I'm meeting David tonight, and we're going to yet another Under-21 Night, but at a Boston club this time. Hey, it's Tuesday night, and no one else goes out, so why not the young kweer kids? There's a lot of mark-up in coke and juice, just the same as in alcohol as far as the bars are concerned. The music will be good, and maybe... well, it's been awhile. I haven't been a monk after all, but I just don't go out and do it wholesale. I did eventually get a chance to play with Kenny's long hair hanging down in my face, but the three years between us might have been decades just then. He wanted the club life at least for awhile, and his options were limited with an eighteen year-old in tow. I've seen a few guys since I started at Lowell. I even met Jade again in Manchester. Believe me, that

was a precious stone that was not cold to the touch, but he was in an exchange program at St. Anselm's, and had to return to his home. I can still see those almond eyes of his some nights. College ain't high school, thank God, and the atmosphere is a little easier for those who ain't on the straight and narrow. For once, Alan's coming with us to scope out the club scene. He's been nervous about that, and usually tells David to just go with me. He'll pay for it in the morning, since he still has the regular high school 8-to-3 schedule, and David and I have afternoon classes. David surprised everyone and decided to stay at home and do a local college. He likes Merrimack College. Hey, next year for Alan. He'll be doing the community college in Haverhill, since his grades are so bad, but David and I are doing our best to coach him into catching up. Alan isn't dumb, but he spent his life being told he was, so he believed it, and just never did enough to convince anyone that he was anything else. Northern Essex is just the kind of place for him to catch up. Hmm. E-mail from Dave: "Instructions for tonight: Dress nice! Drop attitude. Do something with that damn hair. You're meeting Colin from my Ethics class. He's pre-law, and you make one crack about what a lawyer needs with ethics, I'll leave you in Boston. ;-) David"

Jesus, Dave. Cut me a break, okay? I am so not a bitch.

__The End__