Date: 16 Jul 00 16:42:00
From: rimshot@planetaccess.com
Subject: Paper Tiger 1

This is a long chapter.  It didn't start out that way, but it is.  It
something different, and if you guys don't like it, I won't continue it.
Let me know what you think.  Oh, yeah.  Try to remember it's fiction, okay?
If I had a dollar for every email I got reminding me that something
wouldn't have happened in the real world, I'd be rich.  This isn't the real
world, it's a story.

Thanks,
Dan
Rimshot@planetaccess.com


Paper Tiger 1: You mean me?


	Kelly "Rocky" Rockport laughed at a joke made by one of the other
players at the table and folded on a broken straight.  Thanking the other
players for a good game, he collected his winnings, over five thousand
dollars, and stood up to leave.  He tossed a twenty-dollar chip to the
dealer and winked at her, then picked up the remaining chips and headed for
the cashier's cage.

	Payday was always an entertaining day, and the dealers were paid to
slip him certain cards.  Working as a so-called security consultant for the
Rivera family had definite rewards, one of which was Kelly's vast record of
winnings.  He had a real job with the casino as well, to appear legitimate,
but the check was rarely enough to cover gas money.

	He collected his cash and wandered out through the neon forest to
the main entrance, hearing but ignoring the noises made by various slot
machines and video gaming machines.  The surreal environment of the casino
was a haven for Kelly, ever since he got here.  Vegas suited his style.

	It was still hot and muggy as he walked out into the night air, his
blue collarless silk shirt and lightweight pleated slacks billowing in the
slight breeze.  Kelly ran his hand through his honey brown short hair, and
his glacial gray-blue eyes took in the crowds of people on Freemont Street.
Extremely athletic and absolutely neurotic about physical fitness, his six
foot two inch frame was a study in perfection as he headed for the garage
to get his car.

   	He had come here with his family right after graduating from high
school and had fallen in love with the other worldly atmosphere of the
strip and old down town.  His mind was made up quickly, and with little
fanfare, he told them he was staying.  He had never had much of a
relationship with his family, especially his dad, and as expected, they
didn't put up much fight.  Two weeks after going home after the trip, he
was back to stay.

	Kelly's tiny saving had gone fast, and he had nearly starved to
death, which he would've done rather than go home.  Then one night in a
small alley near down town he'd been sleeping in his car.  A fight broke
out near by, and he watched, fascinated, as several guys tried to kill one
who was defending himself pretty goddamn well for being one guy.  One of
the attackers nailed the loner over the head with something heavy, knocking
him out or maybe killing him, and they took off.

	Kelly had jumped out of his car and gone to the other's side to
help.  The injured man mumbled something and held out a cell phone, and
Kelly took it and dialed the number on the screen.  He told them that the
owner of the phone was hurt badly, and told them where he was.  He stayed
with the guy and used his own shirt to keep pressure on the back of the
man's head.  It was exhilarating.

	That night, Kelly Rockport had saved Manny Rivera's son, Carlos.
Manny was the very model of appreciation, and Kelly, now called Rocky, had
a job and a new life style, if he wanted it.  It was like a drug.  He
advanced through the company with lightening speed, leaving the couriers
for the delivery guys, then the errand boys, and all the while being
trained by the family to become one of the inner circle.

	Kelly learned something else he didn't know.  While dropping off a
package to what the Rivera's so called clients, there was a shoot out and
his partner, Carlos Rivera, was shot in the stomach.  Without a thought,
Kelly "Rocky" Rockport grabbed Carlos' gun, a huge semiautomatic pistol,
and calmly put a slug into the forehead of each of the assailants.  It
never bothered him in the slightest, he was just helping Carlos.

	That had been four years ago.  Now, Rocky was the highest paid and
the most sought after bodyguard in the family.  Even Manny Rivera had found
himself amazed at the calmness in Rocky's face and the ice in his eyes when
he fired his weapon.  It was supernatural to them, and they all respected
the demon that lived in their beloved Rocky, because the demon would always
save them.

	Kelly pulled out the keys to his new mustang, a gift from Manny,
and pushed the disarm button on the tiny remote.  The headlights flashed,
and he could hear scuffling near his car.  From the small of his back he
produced a little pistol and crouched near the trunk.  He wasn't without
enemies, and he cautiously waited to see what would happen.

	Tyler Simpson cradled his ribs and waited for the kid in front of
him to make a move.  His own blood made his fingers sticky, and he breathed
hard as he sized up the other.  Three guys had jumped him just outside the
garage and had tried to take his drop money, which would have resulted in a
lot worse beating than this.  The underlings he worked for were not real
forgiving.

	One of his assailants was on the ground behind him, out cold and
out of the fight.  A lucky high speed contact between Tyler's palm and the
guy's nose had produced pretty decent results, but had made the other two
cautious.  Now one of them had a knife out, and Tyler had a gash on his
shoulder blade and one on his ribs.

	The shorter of the remaining two, a pimple faced Hispanic with
horrible teeth and black eyes rushed at him, and Tyler immediately kicked
out in a high arc with his right foot, connecting solidly with the other's
left temple.  He went down in a heap, but Tyler was off balance for
precious seconds, and he saw out of the corner of his eye that the last one
had come at him with the knife.

	He tried to spin all the way around for another kick, but felt the
blade arc down across his ass.  He fell against the wall and cried out, and
had just enough time to look up at the last attacker, expecting the final
blow.  The knife was raised, and Tyler set his eyes, not wanting to be a
coward.  He met the other's eyes.

	A quiet groan came from the front of the car, and Rocky inched his
way up along side the car, his senses on full alert.  He could see a boy
leaning against the cement wall.  His cargo shorts were torn down one side,
and his medium length blond hair was matted in blood.  He looked familiar
to Rocky, like one of Carlos' runners or something, and he was seconds from
getting aced.  He rushed forward quickly and rapped the kid with the knife
in the back of the head with his pistol, knocking him cold.  Rocky slipped
his gun back into his pants and knelt down.  "Hey, kid, are you okay?  What
are you doing here?"

	"I got rolled."  The kid groaned as Rocky helped him sit up and
lean on the concrete wall.

	Rocky picked up a book of matches that had fallen out of the kid's
pocket.  Western Palace was clearly printed on it.  "Who do you work for,
kid?"  He held the matches up.

	"Who are you?"  The boy asked, taking the matches back.  He knew
better than to reveal anything without a fight, even if he was only a minor
messenger.  He was pretty sure he recognized the guy that had just saved
him, but he wasn't sure.

	"I'm Kelly Rockport."  Rocky's eyes narrowed.  "Now who are you
kid, before I get tired of this."

	"The Rock.  Oh shit."  The kid's eyes nearly bugged out.  "I work
for Carlos!  I'm a delivery boy for Carlos!"

	"Quiet, kid!  Jesus!"  Rocky looked around quickly to make sure
they were still alone.  "Where was your drop?"

	"A guy in a pawn shop downtown, two thousand dollars.  Are you here
to kill me?"  The boy was clearly terrified, but still met Rocky's eyes.
Impressive.  There was an intense fire in those eyes, and Rocky was
thrilled by it for a second.

	"No, actually I'm gonna take you to finish your drop, then get you
looked at.  Can you stand up?"  Rocky pulled him up and looked his wounds
over more closely.  Do to the nature of the business; he carried a decent
first aid kit in the car.  He taped up the boy's ribs and arm and the cut
on his forehead.  "What's your name kid?"  There was a knife wound on the
kid's shoulder which he also taped shut, and put some gauze over the kid's
hip, which was bleeding.

	"Tyler.  Tyler Simpson."  Tyler winced as Rocky wrapped his arm up
and made him a sort of sling out of gauze.

	"Well, Tyler Simpson, I'd put money on the idea of getting stitches
if I were you.  I'll get the doc to fix you up."  He helped Tyler get in to
the Mustang after putting a beach towel over the leather seat and closed
the door.  During the short drive to the pawn shop, Tyler provided a good
description of man he was going to see, Nicky Hammersmith, a low life
bookie.  Rocky had been there years ago when he'd been a delivery boy.

	" I'm gonna pay a visit to Nicky.  I want you to stay here, got
it?"  Rocky got out and used the key chain to lock the car and set the
alarm.  He opened the trunk and pulled out a light jacket and pulled it on.
Inside the lining a holster was sewn in, concealing an enormous pistol, a
.44 magnum.

	Nicky Hammersmith looked up from the boy in front of him as the
bell over the door tinkled.  A tall handsome young man strode in and
smiled, not very kindly, and leaned his hip on the counter.  "Hello, Nicky.
How's tricks?"  Piercing gray eyes stared down at him, and Nicky recognized
his visitor.

	"Hey, Rocky?  How are you?"  The greasy haired old man was
obviously shaken and straightened up from the counter.  "Haven't seen you
for a long time.  What're you doing these days?"

	"Oh, odd jobs mostly.  I work for Manny now."  Rocky watched the
little old man's eyes flash at the name, and a thin bead of sweat broke out
on his lip.  Inwardly, Rocky found this funny as hell, but he kept his
front up for their benefit.  "In fact, there was slight altercation
involving one of my associates tonight, an associate that was headed to see
you."

	"That's terrible, Rocky?  What happened?"  Nicky tried to keep his
hands from shaking.

	In one motion, Rocky stepped forward, grabbed the front of the
kid's shirt, lifted him over his head, and slammed him through the glass
counter top in front of Nicky.  "One of this little fucker's buddy's took
money from me, Nicky.  Money that was coming to you.  To get that money,
three of your little fuckers damn near killed one of my kids.  You can
understand how that will look to Manny when I tell him that a worthless two
bit fuck like you interfered in my affairs, can't you?"

	Tyler watched Rocky walk out of the pawnshop and smile winningly;
lighting up a face that rarely saw a genuine emotion.  He opened the door
and handed Tyler a packet filled with money.  "They said they were sorry,
and wanted you to have this as an apology."  He started the car and headed
for the palace.

	"What do I do with this?"  Tyler asked, stupefied.  There was two
grand in the envelope.

	"Call it hazard pay, kid."  Rocky smiled like a pleased alligator
and turned onto a side road.  "It's the least they could do."

	"But this is Carlos' money.  He'll be pissed when it doesn't get
where it's going."

	"I'm real sure that Nicky will tell Carlos that he got his usual
payment.  That is Nicky's gift to you for saving his life."  They drove in
silence, and Tyler watched nervously as they approached the Western Palace
Hotel and Casino, and then pulled into the garage.  They got out of the car
and headed towards the elevators.  Rocky had to help Tyler out of the car,
and kept his arm around him to help steady him.  He put key in a slot by
the doors and called the private elevator to the family levels.

	"How did I save his life?"  Tyler looked sideways at his rescuer
and wished that he'd just answer a question once without being glib.

	"You lived."  Rocky ushered him into the elevator and pressed the
button for the third floor from the top.  When it started moving, he opened
a panel and pulled out a phone set.  "Hey, Judy!  How's my honey tonight?"
He chuckled at the response before continuing.  "I need which ever doc is
on duty to come to Forty two-Forty four.  No, I'm fine, but I got someone
that needs minor body work with me."  He winked at Tyler and grinned.
"Maybe stitches.  Can do?  I love ya, Babe!"  He hung up the phone and
closed the panel.

	The doors opened on an elegantly decorated hallway lined with heavy
oak doors and deep green carpeting.  Tyler looked around as he followed
Rocky to one of the doors, amazed at the wealth it represented.  Rocky's
suite was all white, with a small kitchen near the door, and a bedroom on
each side of the living room, both with private baths.  The far living room
wall was all glass with a sliding door that lead to a balcony over looking
the entire Vegas strip.

	"You live here?"  Tyler asked incredulously.  Rocky pointed at a
chair by the dining table, and Tyler sat down, looking the room over.

	"It's not much, but it's home."  Rocky put his jacket over the back
of a chair.  "Where do you live kid?"

	"I crash at a friend's house."  Tyler looked down and felt his
cheeks flame up in shame.  The truth was, that he slept there when he
could, but he didn't have a home really.  Not like normal people have
anyway.

	"Oh."  Rocky caught on quickly and changed the subject.  For some
reason, he liked this kid, and didn't want to embarrass him.  "Your gonna
need some threads, buddy.  I'll get you something to put on after the doc
gets here."  He rummaged through his closet and pulled out some sweat pants
and a t-shirt.

	There was a knock on the door as he came back out, and he let in a
tall man in glasses.  "Hey, Brian!"  He shook the doctor's hand.  "Found
one of our mailmen in a garage.  He needs a patch up."

	The doctor was surprised to be working on one of the street kids,
but kept it off his face.  "Really.  What was he doing in a garage?"  He
asked sarcastically, but smiled at Tyler.  "What happened young man?"

	"I got jumped."  Tyler answered, wincing when the doctor moved his
arm.  The doctor looked at the bandages and lifted up his shirt and tisked
at what he saw.

	"Looks like someone had a knife, too.  Can you feel this over
here?"  The doctor tapped on his back and Tyler shook his head.  "You're
lucky.  There's nothing deep here, but this and this get stitched, okay?"
He opened a black case and filled a syringe with medication.  "This is
going to deaden the areas I need to fix, so bite down and it'll be quick."

	Tyler hissed through his teeth as the doctor repeatedly stuck the
needle in and injected him.  On the fifth time, it stopped hurting, and his
arm went numb.  The process was repeated on his ribs.  With Rocky's help he
pulled off his ruined shirt, then stood up and let the doctor take off his
shorts.  The doctor wrapped a towel around his waist and removed his boxers
as well to get to the hip injury.  He ended up with twelve stitches on his
ribs, eight on his arm, and ten on the left side of his ass.

	Rocky left them alone and went into his room.  In the corner was a
desk and computer, and he fired it up and emailed Carlos that he had a kid
named Tyler with him, and that he would be here a couple of days, and
recounted the things that had happened with Nicky.

	He logged off and undressed, searched for a pair of shorts and a
t-shirt and put them on, and set his gun on the dresser.  At this level of
the inner sanctum, it wasn't needed.  He entered the living room in time to
see the doctor helping a now naked Tyler put on the sweats.  Tyler had
gotten a shot for pain, and was more than a bit wobbly.  Rocky grabbed his
good arm and held him up while the doctor slid the pants up.

	"He's going to be out until late in the morning, Rock.  I had to
give him something to keep him from moving."  The doctor helped Rocky move
Tyler into the guest room and pull back the covers of the bed.  Tyler was
out before he hit, and they covered him up and left the room.

	"What's up with him?  Are you running deliveries now?"

	"Nah.  I literally found him carved up in front of my car down at
Frankie's place.  Three little fuckers tried to take his drop, and he
fought them.  Reminds me of me not to long ago."  Rocky walked the doctor
to the door and shook his hand.  "Thanks, Brian.  I owe you one."

	"You owe me several, but who's counting?"  Brian smiled and clapped
Rocky's shoulder as he left.  "I left you some pills for the kid.  He's
going to hurt when he wakes up."

	Rocky waved and closed the door, then made his way to the couch.
It was only one am, early for him, and he turned on the TV.  His mind
wandered over the last few hours, and he had to ask himself why he had
rescued Tyler.  Vegas was teaming with street kids, and they employed a lot
of them, few who ever saw any of the real family players.  So why did he
bring that kid to the heart of the empire, to his own apartment?

	Tyler's face entered his mind, and he rolled and rotated the image
in his head.  Rocky was not an intimate person, and rarely had
relationships.  They cut into his personal space, which he cherished
highly.  He had no strong sexual preference, and had frankly bedded both,
but had never been drawn to anyone, just to the moment.

	Tyler appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen, but had the hard
lines on his face that said volumes about those short years.  There was
fire in his eyes, the same fire that burned in Rocky's eyes, and he settled
on that as the reason that Tyler was here.  He was a kindred spirit.  It
was almost tangible.  He had to admit, though, that the kid was beautiful
to look at.  He may have lived in the gutter, but his body was sculpted by
God.

	At three am, he yawned and turned off the set.  He turned off the
lights and quietly pushed Tyler's door open.  He slept soundly, hardly
having moved, and Rocky pulled up the covers before leaving.  Definitely a
kindred spirit, he decided, stopping and looking Tyler over.  He turned on
his heals and went to bed.

	Tyler woke up slowly, pushing his soggy brain out of the darkness
against its will.  He blinked into the strange room and tried to clear his
throat.  His mouth was a gooey mess.  A dull ache came from his shoulder
and left hip, and the events of last night started reforming themselves.
He touched the stitches on his ribs, and Rocky's face came to his mind.  He
was in the private apartment of the most feared bodyguard that he'd ever
heard of.

	Although he had never allowed himself to admit it, even to himself,
Tyler was gay.  That secret had driven him away from his mom, away from his
friends, and had turned him into one of the fiercest scrappers around.  In
some ways, fighting helped the pain in his head and the feelings that he
was less of a person.

	Tyler's pulse quickened in fear, and slowed back down when he
remembered how well Rocky had treated him, and that he'd called a doctor
for Tyler.  Puzzled, he crawled out of the very comfortable bed and found a
pile of new clothes on the end of the mattress, still in the wrapping.  He
picked up a note off the clothes.

Hey Kid,

Went to work out.  Back at 9:30.  Had to guess the size on clothes.  Yours
were Trashed.  Breakfast at 9:30.

Rocky

	It was the first of many such notes he would receive, though he
didn't know it.  Tyler looked at the alarm clock.  It was 9:10.  He had to
hurry.  In the pile of clothes there was a pair of new silk boxers, and
grabbed them and headed for the bathroom.  He winced, being reminded of his
wounds with a sharp pain, and more carefully went into the bathroom.

	A new toothbrush and a little tube of toothpaste sat on the marble
counter.  Tyler brushed his teeth thoroughly, enjoying every second.  He
didn't always get that option, and it felt great.  The shower was huge, and
had three heads.  He stripped of the sweats and stepped in, jumping when
the water hit a particular set of stitches.  When he finished, he carefully
did his hair and shaved.  The well-groomed kid that stared back at him from
the mirror only faintly resembled the street rat that had come here last
night.  It would be nice to be clean all the time.

	The clothes fit perfectly, as did the pair of leather sandals on
the floor near them.  Tyler carefully pulled on the shirt, a short sleeved
high necked form fitting shirt that was incredibly stretchy and soft, but
shimmered like liquid metal.  God, it was cool.  The shorts, black cargos,
fit his waist and were not baggy, but rather accented his ass.  He liked
them.  Under the pile was a small box.  In side was a necklace made of some
dark blue stones ground into tiny barrels with a little silver pendant on
it that looked like a sharks tooth.  Tyler loved it and put it on over the
shimmery shirt.

	He opened the door to his room and walked into the living room.
Rocky's door was open, and he could hear the shower running.  There was a
knock at the front door, and Tyler hesitated, and then went to open it.  A
guy in a waiter's uniform wheeled in a cart of covered dishes, and Tyler's
stomach knotted.  The smells were so good, and he realized he hadn't eaten
since yesterday.  The waiter put the cart near the dining room table and
left with a smile and a nod.  Tyler thanked him.

	He was about to close the door when another man in a black suit
walked up and asked him to give something to Rocky.  He handed Tyler a
small plastic case, thanked him, and left.  Tyler examined the case,
recognizing the seal melted into the top of it.  Israeli Arms.  It was a
gun.

	"Was that breakfast?"  Rocky called from the other room, startling
Tyler.

	"Yeah."  He called back and moved to stand by the bedroom door.
"Another guy dropped of a box, too."

	"Bring it here."  Rocky dried his hair as Tyler came into his room.
Rocky had never been a very modest person, and walked out of the bathroom
naked, drying himself off.  Tyler looked at him, then looked away
embarrassed.  Rocky was incredible, absolutely cut.  Not like a muscle
bound weightlifter, but like the model of the perfect male form.  Tyler's
cheeks burned.

	"Can you shoot?"  Rocky asked, pulling on a pair of close fitting
silk briefs and giving Tyler another view of the perfect build.

	"Yeah, why?"  Tyler tried unsuccessfully to keep his attention on
the gun box, but had to look up and watch Rocky dress.

	"I'm gonna run some errands over the next few days.  Thought you
might like to make a little bank."  Rocky pulled on a polo shirt and some
tan pleated shorts, then slipped on a pair of sandals.  "That is unless you
have other things to do."

	"No!"  Tyler answered to quickly, cursing himself for acting like a
baby.  "I'll help if you need me to."

	Rocky smiled, almost affectionately.  "I think you'll work out.
Besides, Slugger, you probably need some time to heal up."  He pointed at
the gun case.  "That's for you."

	Tyler looked up at Rocky incredulously, then flipped open the locks
and opened it.  A "Baby Eagle" .357 magnum stared back at him, and his
palms got sweaty.  "What do I need a gun for?"

	"Because, Tyler Simpson, if you don't want to be a delivery boy all
your life, and don't want to be living in the gutter, you need to learn to
use your talents.  If you want to learn, I'll train you."

	"My talents?"  Tyler whispered, unable to believe the conversation
he was having.

	"I can see it in your eyes, buddy.  You're just like me.  If you
also believe that, I can make you a star.  If you don't, I can drop you off
at the garage on the way to work.  Your choice, buddy."  Rocky walked out
to the table and poured himself some coffee.

	Tyler followed and sat down at the table.  More than anything he
wanted to believe that this was really happening.  He had always been a
sort of a loner that wanted to fit in, to make it big, whatever it was.
Now, right in front of him was an opportunity to make that dream happen and
to have power like he'd only dreamed of.  He slipped the pistol out of the
case and worked the action.  He ejected the clip and found it loaded.

	"Unloaded guns are useless."  Rocky had been watching as Tyler
handled the weapon and was pleased.  "Stand up and I'll show you something.
Put the clip in it."  Tyler loaded the gun and stood up.  Rocky tugged at
the right side cargo pocket of Tyler's shorts and opened the flap.  "I had
these fixed for you.  Look at the way the padding sits in the pocket.  Slip
your pistol down and in like this."  Rocky slipped the pistol into a
stretchy holster that was sewn into the pocket and closed the flap.  "See,
it's nearly impossible to detect."

	Tyler chuckled and looked down at the pocket.  It was very cool.
Impossible to tell the gun was in there.  "You have some of these?"  He
asked, lifting the flap to see how easy it would be to get the pistol out.

	"Yeah, and others I'll show you."  Rocky tilted his head to the
side and smiled slightly.  "How does it feel to be armed again?"

	"Good."  Tyler chuckled, then looked up at Rocky.  "What do you
mean again?"

	"I watched you handle it, Tyler.  You're pretty comfortable with
it.  I'm right, aren't I?"  Rocky sat down and uncovered the breakfast
dishes.  They ate breakfast in silence, and he used the time to study the
thoughts going over Tyler's face.  Rocky would've bet a month's pay that
the kid had been in some shit before, serious shit, and had walked away.
Definite potential.  "I also watched you handle those assholes last night.
Not very many people I know can get in a fight with three guys and walk
out."

	"You kinda helped me out.  Thanks by the way."  Tyler used good
table manners but ate ravenously.  The food was excellent, and he had been
starved.

	After eating they road the elevator down to the lowest levels of
the building.  Long concrete corridors lined with exposed light bulbs led
in each direction and were lined with electrical conduits.  Rocky led the
way to a heavy steel door, insulated with concrete on the inside.  He
pulled the door open and turned on the lights to reveal a shooting gallery.

	"This room is under six feet of concrete.  It's sound proof."
Rocky handed earmuffs to Tyler and picked up a human silhouette target to
attach to the line.  "I shoot at least every other day.  Starting today, I
want you to shoot everyday, got it?"  Tyler nodded, and Rocky ran the
target out to thirty-five feet.  "Okay kid, show me what you've got."

	Tyler pulled his pistol out of his side pocket and stepped up to
the line.  He worked the action, satisfied that he wouldn't embarrass
himself, and took aim.  He fired on round to see where it would hit,
adjusted a bit left, and emptied the magazine.

	Rocky was irritated that the kid was showing off and was getting
ready to chew his ass off as the target rolled back.  He looked at the
target, and then looked again.  All of the holes were center-mass except
one.  He raised his eyebrows and smiled at Tyler.  "Okay, I guess every
other day will do.  Where'd you learn to shoot?"

	"The Troks."  Tyler said simply.  The Troks were a local gang that
was run out of Los Angeles.  Rocky had dealt with them before, but was very
wary of them.  "You have to be good to join 'em.  I had to be better to
stay out."

	Rocky clapped his shoulder and led him towards the door.  "Tyler, I
think you and I may have been twins in another life."

	The next few days were a blaze in Tyler's memory as he was
introduced to people and shown who did what.  Every day followed a pattern
with he and Rocky working out every morning and then shooting after
breakfast.  Ten days after Tyler was 'brought into the family', he got his
stitches out, and was able to begin learning self defense every other
morning.

	Every night ended with a marathon bullshit session, usually just
Rocky and Tyler, but occasionally with Carlos and some of the others Tyler
had met.  Carlos was shorter than Rocky, but similar in build with long
black hair always in a ponytail.  He and Rocky were both in their mid
twenties and liked to laugh a lot.  They told all kinds of stories about
close calls they'd had, keeping Tyler entranced for hours.

	The wine flowed freely during these gatherings, and Tyler, who
hadn't ever really drank very much, had a hard time keeping up.  One night
while they told jokes, he laughed so hard he got light headed and fell
sideways on the couch, his head landing in Rocky's lap.  He tried to sit
up, but his head spun, and Rocky put his hand on Tyler's shoulder and
patted it.  "You're fine, Ty.  Rest a minute."

	Tyler was only too happy to oblige, since he was rapidly getting
very attached to Rocky.  He stayed that way, thoroughly enjoying it as
Rocky gently stroked the side of his head and face.  It ranked as one of
the happiest times in his life.  He had ended up being carried to bed,
although he didn't remember it.  The fact was he was frequently put in bed
by Rocky after these little parties.

	Two weeks after he had arrived, Tyler used his key in the private
elevator and went to the forty- second floor.  As he entered the apartment,
he tossed the three computer cd's he'd just picked up for Rocky on the
counter and checked the messages on the phone.  Nothing interesting.  He
made his way to his room and turned on the computer that Rocky had given
him.

	There was a network message for him that Rocky and Carlos were in
Arizona, and that he'd be home for dinner.  Tyler was to call the main desk
and ask for Kent and do as he asked.  Tyler dialed the number, waited while
the operator found this Kent person, and identified himself.

	"Oh, yeah, Rocky's kid.  Come down to basement level three, Tyler.
We're gonna get your ID set up."  Kent told him.  Rocky's kid.  Tyler liked
the sound of that

	"My ID?"  Tyler was confused.  "What do you mean?"

	"I guess Rocky is taking you with him to California.  You need ID
and stuff to go."  Kent yawned hugely on the line.  "I gotta take you
picture and put you in the computer."

	Tyler arrived at the third basement floor and found a very
efficient looking office complex with several people answering phones and
typing on computers.  Everyday he learned something new, and he strongly
suspected that he'd just entered the heart of the Rivera financial empire.

	"Hey, kid!"  A stocky man in his thirties with thinning hair walked
up and offered his hand with a smile.  "I'm Kent Reese.  This way, buddy."
He led Tyler to a dark room surrounded on all sides with monitors and
computers.  "Sit here and I'll get the picture out of the way."  Kent took
the cover off of a box shaped camera and pointed it at Tyler.  "Do you have
a driver's license, kid?"

	"I did, but my wallet got stolen."  A flash went off in Tyler's
eyes, and he blinked.  "Damn, I didn't even smile yet."

	"Driver's licenses are supposed to look like shit, Tyler, it's
their nature."  Kent sat down heavily at a computer and waved Tyler to a
chair near his.  "When's your birthday?"  He typed furiously on the
keyboard in front of him.

	"The twenty third of this month."  Tyler watched as his picture,
not to bad, came up on the screen on a form that looked like a license.

	"I'm gonna make it so you turn twenty one on the twenty third,
cool?"  Kent arranged the information on the screen.  "Rocky is going to
need you legal for some of the jobs, so might as well do it now."

	"I'm only going to be nineteen, though."  Tyler chuckled.

	"Bad news, Tyler.  Tyler Simpson died last night in a car accident.
Very tragic.  What do you want your last name to be?"  Kent moved the
picture into its place and started a search for a new social security
number.  He glanced at Tyler and found him looking totally confused.  Kent
laughed.  "Sorry, I forget you have no clue.  In order to give you a new
identity, you need a different name.  If you could choose, what would you
like for a new last name?"

	"Oh."  Tyler thought for a second and then grinned.  "Rockport."

	Kent shook his head and smiled.  "I don't know how he'll react, but
I guess that's your problem."  Several minutes later, a specialized printer
spit out a perfect driver's license, which Kent handed to Tyler.  It was
amazing, perfect in every detail.  The exception being that Tyler would now
be twenty-one in four days, not nineteen.

	Kent moved to a new machine and resumed typing, flipping through
screens at a dizzying pace.  For two hours Tyler moved around the room with
Kent, collecting a new birth certificate, social security card, and a Visa
and MasterCard.  He had to sign several forms, and Kent put them all in a
file.  They talked about cars and action movies, and Tyler decided he
definitely liked the pudgy little guy.

	"Well, Mr. Rockport, it's been a pleasure."  Kent smiled warmly and
held out his hand to shake.  "If you get tired of being you, come and see
me."

	"You're the bomb, Kent.  Thanks for everything."  Tyler waved and
headed for the elevator.  He looked through the cards and his license
again, shaking his head and smiling.  This was about the coolest birthday
present he'd ever gotten.  It made him want to hug Rocky, except that would
be a disaster.  He slammed the lid on his feelings for his benefactor,
silently wishing that he could do things differently.

	As he opened the door to the apartment he was hit in the face with
a swimming suit.  He almost caught it as it flew at him, and he dropped to
a crouch outside the door and reached for his gun.  Rocky laughed and
nodded his head.  "Not bad, Ty.  You got out of the way and dropped.  Not
bad."

	"One of these days you're going to make the test to real, Rocky,
and I'll shoot you."  Tyler scooped up the swimsuit and closed the door.
"I know it's important to react fast, but shit, dude."

	"You never know when it's coming, buddy, you never know."  Rocky
was dress in trunks already and pointed at Tyler's room.  "Go change.  I
told Carlos we'd meet him on the roof in ten minutes."  He watched the kid
go and loaded a fanny pack with a cell phone, pistol, and wallet.  There
were two beach towels folded on the table already.

	Tyler stripped in record time and pulled on the suit, once again
pleased with Rocky's taste in clothes.  The suit looked like nylon hiking
shorts with multiple pockets and had a slim black belt.  He tied the
strings and threw on his sandals and raced back into the living room.

	"How did it go with Kent?"  Rocky asked, throwing Tyler a towel.

	"He's cool.  I got along great with him."

	"Did you get all your ID's done?"  Rocky asked.  Tyler nodded.
"What did you change your name too?"

	Tyler felt his cheeks burning, but looked into Rocky's eyes.  At
times, those ice gray eyes could melt steel, just like his own, and he
hoped Rocky wouldn't be angry.  "Rockport."  He said simply and waited for
the reaction.

	Rocky was flattered and gave Tyler a dopey grin.  "That one was
taken, you knew that, right?"

	"Imitation is the purist form of flattery.  That's what Kent said
anyway."  Tyler smiled back and got all embarrassed when Rocky put his arm
around Tyler's shoulders and led him towards the door.

	"You're all right, kid.  I don't care what anyone says."  Rocky
took them up to the roof where a private pool and garden was kept, well
away from the public.  Several potted trees ringed the pool, and canvas
gazebos were set up in various places.  There was a changing room and
showers, and a well stocked bar.  Lounge chairs ringed the poolside.

	Carlos rose out of his seat and walked over to them as they came
out into the sun, Rocky's arm still around Tyler's shoulders.  "I
understand you found your long lost brother about an hour ago, Rock.
Pretty cool considering that we hadn't landed yet."  They had traveled by
helicopter back from Kingman, Arizona.

	"Yeah, imagine my surprise."  Rocky was pleased with the way Tyler
and Carlos got along, watching them shake hands.  "We were just discussing
the younger Rockport's opportunities."

	"Don't let him bully you, Tyler.  When he does that to me, I drop
him on his ass."  Carlos feinted a punch and Rocky blocked it.  "He ain't
so tough.  He just talks a lot."

	"I noticed."  Tyler laughed and followed them to some loungers.
"Is it okay to ask what you guys were doing in Arizona?"  He put his towel
over a lounger and stretched out, relaxing in the rays of the sun.  Tyler
was a serious sun worshipper, and rarely had worn a shirt until he met
Rocky.  His tan lasted just about all year, especially in the Las Vegas
climate.

	Rocky glanced at Carlos who nodded, then looked back at Tyler.  "We
were setting times for some meetings in San Diego, Ty.  It's almost time
for you to start earning your keep."  Rocky accepted a glass of iced tea
from a waiter and handed one to Tyler.  The family is trying to acquire a
resort in Mexico.  I won't go into details, but we need it to go through."

	"I think you can trust him, Rock."  Carlos smiled at Tyler and
winked.  "What we need is a place to funnel cash through.  Someplace that
won't be watched real carefully."

	"You mean like laundering money?"  Tyler was fascinated and sat up
to face Carlos.

	"Something like that."  Carlos chuckled.  "He's good, Rock."

	"You hired him."  Rocky yawned and adjusted his sunglasses.  "I
just found him pulling a Hail Mary."

	In between swimming and lying in the sun, Carlos told Tyler stories
about the family and how it had started.  Tyler soaked it up like a sponge,
every once in a while glancing at Rocky with an inward groan.  God, he was
so beautiful, and it was hard sometimes to concentrate on what Carlos was
saying.  Fortunately, they looked out across the pool most of the time, not
at Tyler.

	At seven thirty, everyone was hungry and water logged, and picked
up their things to go below.  Tyler regretted that he had to leave.  It was
so cool up at the pool.  His skin was tingling with a mild sunburn, but it
had felt great.

	"Grab a snack, and I'll meet you two for dinner at nine thirty."
Carlos waved and Rocky nodded, waving back.

	Rocky opened the door and followed Tyler inside.  Where are we
going to dinner?"  Tyler asked, untying the strings to his suit.  Rocky
tossed his towel into his room and scratched his chest.

	"I think he got tickets to one of the dinner shows.  I don't know
which one."  Rocky looked up at Tyler and caught him looking his body over
very closely.  He smiled slightly and cocked his head to the side.  "Can I
look back?" he asked impishly.

	"Huh?"  Tyler snapped back into the now and felt his face heat up.
He'd been caught flat-footed, and had been so engrossed, he had lost track
of what he was doing.

	"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you.  I've noticed you scooping
me out all afternoon.  It's okay."  Rocky sat on the couch and motioned for
Tyler to do the same.  Tyler hesitated, and then sat down, unable to meet
Rocky's eyes.  Rocky reached over and put his fingers under the kid's chin
and turned his head.  "I said it was okay, Tyler.  You don't need to freak
out on me."

	"I'm sorry I let you down.  I'll leave if you want me to."  Tyler's
voice was thick with emotion and he swallowed hard.  "I understand if you
hate me."

	"You're not listening to me."  Rocky said forcefully.  "I said it
was okay.  You're not bad looking yourself."  Tyler's eyes widened, and
rocky brushed the side of his face.  "Tyler, when I found you, I knew that
you belonged here.  I didn't have a good reason, I just acted on impulse.
You proved me right, but What's messed up is if we were, you know, closer,
what would happen to us if someone found out.  I wouldn't just get fired,
I'd be dead.  So would you.  There can't be any hostages, know what I
mean?"

	"Can we keep it a secret?"  Tyler asked quietly.  IT felt so good
to be touched, and he almost dared hope that it would happen.  "Please,
Rocky.  I've hidden all my life.  I know I won't let you down."

	Rocky felt his heartstrings tighten in his chest.  "I don't think
you could, Ty."  He leaned over and gently kissed the kid on the lips.  It
was like an electric spark going off between them, and Tyler leaned into
it.  Their tongues met and began to explore, and Rocky pulled him onto his
chest and stretched out on the couch.  He ran his hands lightly over
Tyler's muscular back and felt him shiver.

	Tyler moved his fingers over Rocky's chest, feeling every cord of
every muscle.  His pecs were incredible to explore, and he ran his tongue
over each nipple, feeling Rocky inhale.  He slowly worked his way down
across those beautiful rock hard abs that he had admired, and used his free
hand to touch Rocky's thigh.

	Rocky moaned and twisted, shocked by Tyler's straight forward
approach, but not surprised since his entire personality was the type that
went after what it wanted.  He gasped as Tyler's probing fingers went up
the leg of his swim trunks, and he tried to sit up, but was pushed gently
back.  Tyler grinned at him, and tugged at the string with his teeth.  It
was very arousing.

	After he succeeded in untying the suit, Tyler silently urged Rocky
to raise his hips, and he slid the suit down, exposing the most beautiful
thing he'd every seen.  He grasped Rocky's cock gently and buried it in his
mouth, having to hold on as Rocky bucked up and groaned loudly.

	He stroked up and down, and felt rocky grab his ankle and pull him
around.  They rolled onto the floor and Tyler landed on top, immediately
taking Rocky back into his mouth.  Nimble fingers worked on the slim belt
of his own suit, and Rocky slid it off and ran his powerful hands over
Tyler's ass.  Soon Rocky had his mouth on Tyler, and it became a race.

	Tyler moaned and realized he was close to cumming.  He took his
mouth off Rocky and tried to warn him, but a spasm went through his spine
and legs, and he felt his entire body quake as he let loose.  His stomach
cramped again and again as he blew his load, and Rocky never missed a drop.

	As he regained his senses, he shakily leaned his elbows on the
couch and turned to look over his shoulder, giving Rocky the sultriest look
he could.  He spread his knees apart, and Rocky smiled, moving to get
between them.  Using saliva and his fingers, he slowly loosened Tyler up,
enjoying how he writhed under him, and finally was able to get the head of
his member in.

	Tyler grimaced at the size, and gritted his teeth.  Rocky moved so
slowly, and frequently rewet it.  Finally he popped forward, and Tyler
sagged back against him.  Rocky wrapped his arms around Tyler's chest and
started a slow steady in and out motion.  Shortly Tyler began to respond,
pushing back against him in rhythm.  He reached down and took a hold of
Tyler and began to pump, feeling the kid harden back up in his hand.

	"Oh, god.  I'm cumming again!"  Tyler whispered harshly.  Rocky
felt his rectal muscles contract hard, causing him to loose control and
start thrusting faster, going over the brink.  They arrived with in seconds
of each other, Rocky shooting powerful shots into Tyler's ass, and Tyler
shooting in an arc over the back of the couch.  They collapsed in a pile,
breathing hard and sweaty.

	After a minute or two, Rocky kissed Tyler on the lips and smoothed
his sweaty blond hair out of his face.  "How about if we stay in tonight
and order pizza?"

	Tyler laughed and wrapped his arms and legs around Rocky's torso.
"Whatever you want, big guy.  I just need a nap, 'kay?"

	"Shit.  I don't want Carlos pissed off.  Sorry, buddy."  Rocky
kissed him again and disentangled himself.  "Go shower.  We stink bad."  He
pulled Tyler to his feet and slapped his ass towards his room.  "Wear the
blue shiny shirt with the collar.  I like that one."  Tyler turned at the
door and gave him a wicked look, then disappeared.  Rocky sighed and looked
at the mess they'd made.  He could always tell housekeeping it was a
hooker.  As he headed for the shower he made a mental note to get the story
straight with Tyler.  Life just got interesting again.