Date: Sat, 26 Jul 2008 10:40:54 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: "Nature Takes Its Course" 05 The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. % "Nature Takes Its Course" 05 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "I'm headed out if you won't be needing anything else?" Ron Glass questioned Dr. Singh as he poked his head in the door. "No thanks," the psych doctor replied. "Sure?" Ron questioned for the last time. "No, but thanks for the offer." "Sure," Ron replied, seemingly disappointed. Not every night, but every other, Ron would help Dr. Singh out if he happened to have a stressful day. Leaving every Wednesday at four, he always checked in with the doc an hour before departure, in order to make it to his class at WRCC. Filing away papers, making sure everything was set for tomorrow's business, Ron thought for a minute, pondering over the number Tony had scribbled on a piece of paper. Reading over the seven numerical digits he licked his lips. It only drove on his desire to become more horny with curiosity. "Rats!" he said after dialing, getting Tony's message service. He left his name and cell number anyway. When he hung up, he noticed the extension light on, verifying Dr. Singh was on the line. Waiting for pickup, Dr. Singh looked about his room, at all the framed diplomas and distinguished honors achieved in his career thus far. A bit nervous, he wondered if this was the right thing to do. Up until now the occasional blow job from his office receptionist was enough to tie him over til he was comfy at home in his bed to do any followup. Always putting his profession first he rarely even thought about establishing any kind of sound relationship. It dawned on him he was getting older by the minute. If he didn't react some cute guy would get away and he will have aged from twenty-nine to fifty in no time at all, the years slipping by fast enough as it is. Finally the pickup came, the voice on the other end saying, "Hold on a second." `Rude' he thought. Then again Dr. Singh always thought call-waiting was one of man's worst invention, only discovered so people could become more crude in their manners. When the voice came back, apologizing, Singh said, "I'm looking for," he read the name on the card Tony left, "Jack Collier?" "That's me," Jack replied on the other end. The conversation went thus, Dr. Singh introducing himself, "I'm Dr. Singh. We have a mutual friend, Tony Gagliardi?" "Oh yeah. Tony," Jack replied. Then with the `doctor' intro, he asks, "Tony isn't sick or anything is he?" "Not to my knowledge. But getting down to business, Tony left your name and number and strongly suggested I give you a call." Sketchy on the details, Jack wondered what else Tony said. "Um, did Tony tell you anything about me?" "Not really. He was kind of in a hurry to leave," Singh told him even though Tony didn't seem in a rush. "I see. So, tell me about yourself Dr. Singh?" Jack learned a few things about Dinesh and drew one strong conclusion, the doctor wasn't only sex-starved. One thing though, Jack wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, getting involved with a guy then springing on him his kinky side. Upfront he said, "Dinesh, I've got to level with you about something...." After telling him he was into some kinky stuff, Dinesh inquiring about just what, Jack hesitated but replied, "Um watersports for instance?" "Watersports?" Dinesh questioned Jack, but knew what he meant. "Not the kind where you put on skis and get dragged around by a motor boat or water polo." He cut Jack off stating, "You don't have to go to lengths to explain. I `know' which `kind' of watersports you mean, Jack." Realizing they were on the same wavelength, Jack replied excitedly, "Cool! Then maybe you'll want to come over and try some stuff?" "I might enjoy some entertainment," Dinesh replied. Sitting there in his swivel chair, Singh was swiveling his hips as his hand caressed his cock, slowly stroking it in the pocket of his unzippered pants. "Cool!" Jack said, asking, "You have any toys?" Dinesh's face lit up, thinking about the duffle bag he's had stashed away in his closet at home, put there when he moved into his apartment fresh out of college. "I have some interesting things to play with if you're game?" "I've got the playground if you've got the toys!" Both were riding high on their emotions of what this evening could entail. % "Looks like the `missus' is going to be keeping you busy!" "Shuddup!" Riley told Sal Barberio as the `bear' made fun of Juan picking out everything except the kitchen sink from his hardware store. "By the way," he made conversation when he caught up with scanning in stuff Juan dropped on the counter, "when was the last time you remodeled that farmhouse of yours?" "Remodeled? You're kidding. It takes money to do all that stuff. I have enough trouble keeping up with feeding the horses. The place has been that way since I moved in. Nothing wrong with it." "Okay, that just about does it for this trip," Juan said, placing a baseball and bat on the counter. "What's this for?" Sal asked, smiling at Riley. "Not for what `you' think it's for, Sal," Riley replied. Taking it he tossed it and the baseball in with his other stuff. "Hey! I didn't scan that!" "Least you can throw in after all you're ripping me off for!" Juan wasn't sure if he should mention it, but people would be wondering anyhow so he figured Riley should get used to hearing it too, "We're going to have a kid around the house." "Oh really?" Sal replied, ready to have a field day with this one. "Now I didn't want to mention it, but it seems to me you `are' putting on a little weight, Riley?" Picking up the bat, Riley replies, "Maybe I should practice up for the kid and use your head for a baseball?" It was all fun and games, neither being mean to each other, just a little sassy. Sal wasn't done when Juan said to Riley, "Pay the man. I'll start loading this stuff in the truck." "Ohhh, wait til I get home and tell Bernardo about you getting hitched and having a kid," Sal teased. Giving him more ammunition for assault, Riley told him, "Ask him how he's going to like sleeping with a smooth bear!" Tossing his credit card on the counter, Riley didn't want to know how much. Looking over the receipt, he asks, "What's this?" questioning the last item on the bill. "I kind of felt sorry for ya. So gave you the contractor's discount. Twenty percent. If you object I can add it back in?" As a way of thanking Sal, Riley says, "No that's okay. I'll just forget about picking up the dozen cans of shaving cream and pack of razors!" % "Hey, do you know if they're hiring?" Matt asks. During the lull before the storm, early afternoon at Birdy's restaurant, Thomas and Matt sat with a table between them, sipping on some hot coffee, enjoying some buttered rolls. "Of that I'm not sure. I'll have to ask Michael," Thomas replied. "Could you do that for me?" Matt says softly, his hand touching the fingertips of Thomas' hand not holding the cup. Withdrawing his hand, sitting back, pulling his arms together across his chest, Thomas quizzes Matt, "And what are you going to do for me?" Assuming a likewise pose, Matt tells him, "Wait til tonight. If you think I was doing my best last night at keeping your cock... oops!" He looked around remembering where they were. "It's okay. Nobody's around. The evening crew hasn't arrived yet. So. As you were saying?" Cutting his response short, which was meant to get Thomas psyched up, he did the same thing by tantalizing him, "Just you wait and see what I'm going to do for you tonight!" Checking about before he said it, Thomas even lowered his voice to see if Matt was game, "Let me tie you to the bed?" Last night he was hesitant, but anyway kink wasn't part of their lover's rendezvous at Thomas' pad. A bit more into the relationship, Matt replies, "Only tie me to the bed?" "I'm sure I can figure out some other nice stuff to `do' to you!" "Cool!" Matt responded, then questioned him, "so when do I start?" "Start?" Getting it, Thomas replies, "I still have to ask Michael." Smiling, Matt assured him, "Well even if he's not hiring I'll still allow you to tie me to the bed tonight!" % It was a busy Wednesday at Dean's Bakery, right next door to Birdy's Restaurant. In Nicholas' absence, Dean had to take up the slack until Scott arrived from his classes at WRCC. "Only one more day," Scott told Dean upon arrival, shucking his backpack, trading it in for a white apron. "That's a relief!" Dean exclaimed, wiping his brow because he knew Scott's last day of classes was tomorrow. With too much business for small talk, Scott went right to work taking over for Dean saying, "I've got it," slicing up a loaf of bread and bagging it for a customer. Taking a second to guzzle down some ice tea, Dean was back to business, swabbing down tables in the front of the cafe, removing leftovers from customers and then hopping back behind the counter when the line swelled once more. In passing, squeezing sideways past Scott, Dean asked, "Got any buddies who are looking for a summer job?" "I might," Scott replied, but was too busy to think. As the two raced from one end of the counter to the other, Scott kept looking up. For the past forty minutes he's seen this guy sitting at one of the tables, continually raiding seconds, then thirds and forths from the coffee carafes. One glance he almost sideswiped Dean. "That was close," Dean responded when a pie almost wound up on his chest! Scott warned himself to pay attention but he couldn't help but tear himself away from the business to keep an eye on this guy. Light brown-skinned he mistook him for Italian until he asked Dean, "That guy over there?" "What guy?" "He look Italian to you?" Now Dean knew why Scott suddenly became clumsy. "He's not Italian. More like... Arabian?" "You think?" they conversed as they pulled items from the clear-cased display, sliced, bagged and rang up customers. "Look," Dean said, nudging Scott. "Oh geez," Scott replied. "You almost made me drop this!" Then knowing it meant he was drawing attention to the same guy, asked, "What?" Scott stopped momentarily to watch as the guy, looking no older than himself, fashioned his napkin into a `collar' of sorts, corraled some crumbs and then slid them from the table into his palm. At first he cringed when he thought the guy was going to toss them into his mouth but felt relieved when he dumped them into the trash. He tried watching his language while at the bakery, but couldn't help himself, saying, "Oh shit!" Instead of reprimanding him, which wasn't such a bad offense being Scott said it softly, Dean asks, "Get snagged?" "What do you think?" Scott replied with a smirk. Finally, fifteen mintues later business dropped off as the time rounded out to 3pm. "School's out," Dean said as the crowd dissapated. "All the mommies are going to pick up their kids at school!" Scott set the record straight, "And daddies too?" Dean smiled, saying, "I'll be in the back if you get busy again." Then before he got away from the counter. "Why don't you offer your new friend a lemonade?" "My new friend?" Scott questioned him. "On the house." Scott put the finishing touches on the last order then the place was empty. That is, except for the same guy loitering for over an hour. After tidying up behind the counter, he grabbed two glasses of lemonade and went to sit down and take a breather. "Hey, want some lemonade?" Adding a smile, setting the other glass down in front of the guy, he didn't really have a choice. "Thank you," he replied meekly. "So, what's your story?" Scott asked, taking a long sip. "My story?" Shrugging his shoulders, he replies, "I don't have one." "Nonsense," Scott says. "Everybody's got a story. Want to know mine?" "Okay," the guy replied. It was the perfect lead-in, Scott telling him, "I came to live here after living eighteen years of my life in the big city. I came here to go to college. I'm finishing up my first year. I'm a science major and on the swim team. It's really cool living in a small city because you get to know everybody. If you want to we can get to know each other. What do you say?" Rather stunning the guy, he at first didn't know what to say, but then loosened up. "We could be friends I suppose." "Cool," Scott replied. Stretching his hand across the table he offered, "I'm Scott Cutler." "I'm Zaki," the guy said, reaching for Scott's hand, delivering rather a weak greeting, quickly withdrawing his palm and putting it back around his sweating glass of lemonade. "So, you go to college here too?" "I would like to," Zaki tells him. Scott figures he's either an early bloomer, his age or even older, with the dark hair showing at the top of his shirt. "So what's stopping you?" My brothers. They are owners of Zakim's?" When Scott doesn't recognize the name, Zaki tells him, "The restaurant down on van Dusen?" "Oh yeah. Mideastern cuisine. Next to Balducci's, right?" It was the first smile he got out of Zaki. "You have been there?" "Not yet. Maybe someday you and I could go there and eat," Scott replied upbeat. "Would be a good way for us to get to know each other." Getting up abruptly Zaki replies, "I need to be going. Thank you for the lemonade." He reacted quicker than Scott could formulate an opinion in his mind. All he could think of is, "What did I say?" "You talking to me?" Dean asks, coming out of the back, wiping flour off his hands with his apron. "No. I mean." "Making new friends?" He asks Scott. "His name is Zaki. His brothers own Zakim's, the restaurant down the street next to Balducci's." "Well, what do you think of him?" Dean asks, watching Zaki's figure slowly shrink as he gets farther away down the street. "Seems like a nice guy. A little weird," Scott tells. "Weird of `different'?" Dean puts it. "Different," Scott chooses. "After you clean up, do you mind sweeping? I've got tons of things to do in the back." "No problem," Scott replied, even though it wasn't part of his normal duties. It seemed Nicholas was always sweeping up the shop. Strange thing, after sweeping the floor for five minutes Scott happened to glance out the window and swore he saw Zaki walking up the other side of the street. Leaning on the broom handle, he thought about it. % "There's nothing you boys can do here so you might us well `stop' cutting school?" "Okay, dad," Eric, Tom and Mark replied, Penny joking as she added, "Okay dad!" Jose said the same in Spanish. He knew it tabu to use a cellphone in the hospital but when a tune came from his pocket, he whipped it out. Readily he recognized the name of his office secretary and in some ways the bulwark who kept the school office in good running order. First on the agenda, she asked how Steve was doing. After finding out not much, she cut to school business, filling Barry in on cancelled meetings, rescheduling, a new substitute teacher who showed up this morning to take Steve's place, her raving about him passing for the double of Ryan Phillipe. "Really Agnes," Barry mused, "isn't he a little too young for you?" Receiver held to his ear, he got a tongue-lashing about her not being nearly as old as he thought she was. He apologised. After telling her he may or may not be in tomorrow, she `gave him the day off'! She also gave him the last bit of news for the day, today the students decided it was `Senior Cut Day'. Later Barry would catch up with his sons and thank them for the delusion! "Hey," the voice came from behind him. "Callan? I did't think you worked here anymore... or I mean on the corp?" Before Callan O'Meara could answer, the blond was hugging him, extending his sympathies, "I'm so sorry about Steve." "As Doc Scalia puts it, Steve's not doing all that bad. In fact as soon as he's out of `recovery', I'll be able to see him." Callan smiled, informing him, "Why wait?" Barry smiled, following his cute blond neighbor down the hallway. As Callan did, he responded in the same manner, looking about as if they were doing something sneaky. Just as they approached the glass separating the non-germy area from Barry and Callan's side, somebody else spotted them first. Lifting a hand, it showed Steve was still under the influence of the anesthetia, his wavering hand dropping to his side, a tube attached. "Where are they taking him?" "C'mon," Callan replied, slapping Barry's arm with the back of his hand. On their way, they pass the nurse's station, Callan addressing the nurse, "Hey Jack, where are they taking Steve Clark?" After checking his computer, Jack replies, "Room 221." After boarding the elevator Callan tells Barry, "No offense but I think Jack was checking you out." "Really? I don't know what on earth for. I'm like twice his age. Besides, he's good looking. Guys are probably chasing after him." "Yeah. Right," Callan agreed, but knew Jack was into a certain `type' of guy. Approaching room 221, Callan said, "Hold on." Going in first, he returned saying, "It'll be only a minute till they get him situated." It was the longest minute of Barry's life, asking after about thirty seconds, "It's gotta be at least a minute," to Callan. "Sure," Callan agreed, knowing Barry was being anxious. Given the go ahead, everyone looked towards the entrance to the room when Barry made his way in, rather in a barging manner. Having an audience of onlookers, he stopped in his tracks. "Oh, is it okay to come in?" "Certainly Mr. Barr. Come right in," a young doctor met him halfway between Steve and the door. Barry did acknowledge his kindness, too thinking how the doctor knew in, but more important on his mind was his partner. "Steve? How you feelin'?" "It'll still be a few hours before he returns to his normal self." "Yeah," Barry replied, now paying more attention to the doctor than Steve, who sort of recognized him then drifted off to sleep. Turning from the bed, the doctor was waiting with a handshake. "I'm Dr. Stahl." "Barry Barr," Barry returns the greeting. "I know." Given a strange look, Dr. Stahl clues him in, "I believe Philip and Aidan are your children?" "Yes," he applied in the affirmative but still was in the dark. "Our son has had the pleasure of making their aquaintance." And it seemed like a positive meeting up, the way Dr. Stahl mentioned it. "I haven't seen you in these parts before. Have you and your wife moved here recently?" He smiled, informing Barry, "My `partner' and I, yes." "Oh, sorry `bout that," Barry replied, smiling. Shooing it away, Dr. Stahl side-swiped the error and talked more about the kids. "It was tough pulling Griffin out of school the last two months of the year, but Aldo, that's my partner and I had to make the timely move so I could start my employment here at the hospital." "Things like this happen, Dr. Stahl." "Please, call me Richard." For the next few minutes, Barry and Richard chatted about Griffin making the transition quite well. He praised Barry for raising friendly children who took Griffin under their wing to show him `the ropes'. "I also hear you are quite a remarkable high school principal, what with allowing students to establish a gay alliance among other innovative programs." "It was a program waiting to happen," Barry replied, telling him of the turn of events, a few gay bashings often resulting in serious mental and physical injuries. "One day some students came into my office, we talked about it, a faculty member volunteered to head it up and `voila!', it was added to our afterschool programming." Barry had heard enough of himself being praised, so turned to talk about Dr. Stahl. So tell me Richard, what does your partner do?" "Aldo is an architecture. Right now he is putting on some finishing touches to a project in Milan. He's also trying to make amends with his family." "Oh?" Barry inquired. He also had feeling Dr. Stahl needed a kind ear for listening. Glancing to Steve, he asked, "Say Richard, since Steve will be out for awhile, are you able to grab a cup of coffee?" Instead of the hospital cafeteria, Dr. Stahl said he's had enough of the food and offered to drive them into town, a couple of miles down the road. He pulled into a parking place right in front of Dean's Bakery. "This alright for you?" "Fine, as long as you keep me from ordering anything but fat-free!" "I know what you mean. I could lose a few pounds myself," Dr. Stahl replied. "For future reference, Richard, it's not really necessary to lock up while parked in town." "Force of habit I suppose. I have a lot of getting used to in the transition from city to country living I suppose." Holding the door, Barry ushered Richard inside. % Being the second to the last day of school for the kids, different activities played out according to each grade level. "Come on Davide, I'll help ya," Jeremy jumped to it when Ms. Duffy assign him the task of placing some plants in a box so she could take them home for the summer. "Can I help too?" Jeremy first turned to Ms. Duffy and asked, "Can Griffin help us?" Of course she didn't have any objections. There were a lot of plants on the window sill and a couple near the science area of the room. "My `Italian' dad likes plants," Griffin said as Jeremy carefully handed a plant to Davide, Griffin helping him to put them in a box on the floor. "Your Italian dad?" Jeremy questioned. Griffin stopped in his tracks, not sure he wanted anyone to know he had two dads. "Oh I get it," Jeremy replies, thinking he has it right, "You're mom is divorced and you have two dads now?" It sounded good, so the nine year old, almost ten, agreed. This country town has come a long way in two years and it's not unusual for some kids to have two mommies or daddies, so Davide comes out with, "Jeremy has two dads too!" "You do?" Griffin asks. "Yup," Jeremy replies, adding, "My dads are gay and live together." "Oh," is all Griffin says, apparently still thinking about his own situation and how he just fibbed. "It's okay though," Jeremy continues. "Because Philip and Aidan have two dads." "And Caleb has two dads," Davide jumps in with. "And our neighbors, Diego and Seth have two dads, too," Aidan finishes out. Davide says, "And my brother is gay so someday he's going to have a boyfriend and some lucky kid will have them for fathers. And guess what?" More words were spoken than plants being put into boxes, Davide mentioning he was going to live on a horse ranch because his brother couldn't take care of him right now and two guys were going to be his temporary dad. He also mentioned his brother, Alac was an artist and wanted to open a gallery in town. "Aldo, that's my other dad, builds buildings. Right now he is in Italy and soon he'll be coming to live with us. My real dad is a doctor at the hospital." "Your real dad?" Jeremy asks. "My dad was married once," Griffin reveals. "Where's your mom?" Davide inquires. "Dead," Griffin simply put it. "Oh," Jeremy replied, "Sorry." "Yeah," Davide said. "Me too." "I'm not," Griffin exclaimed which made Davide and Jeremy look at one another. "How come?" Davide gets nosy. "My mom wasn't a good person. She never was home. My dad called her a `bimbo' and I heard once when they were fighting that all she was interested in was using drugs and going out. One time when they were fighting she told my dad she wished I was never born." It left the three in silence, Griffin with his head hanging low and the other with no words to say. "Having a problem with the plants?" Ms. Duffy questioned them, knowing it wasn't the plants which kept the three from doing their assignment. It was Jeremy who broke the ice and asked, "Ms. Duffy, when your mother says she wishes you were never born, do you think she means it?" "Ah," she started out, more surprised at Jeremy's question, but lost for an explanation, especially trying to guess which of the three the statement reflected upon. She decided to quiz the inquisitor first. "Did your mother say that to you, Jeremy?" Quick to respond, Jeremy told Ms. Duffy Griffin's mother said it when his parents were fighting. Caressing the nine year old's shoulder, she tried to comfort him, "Sometimes people say things they don't mean when they get in an argument. It happens when they are so upset and become quick to blame. I'm sure she didn't mean it, Griffin." Davide enlightens her, "It doesn't matter anyway because she's dead and Griffin hates her anyway." Ms. Duffy didn't leave things hanging. Instead she instructed Griffin to leave the two boys to collecting and boxing the plants, Griffin following her up to the front of the room. "What do you think she's telling him?" Davide asks Jeremy as they boxed up the plants. "I dunno. Probably she wants to find out why he hates his mother. I bet he's telling her the same thing he told us." "Could be," Davide replies, almost tipping over forwards when placing a heavy plant in a box in front of him. "Whooa, that was a close one," Jeremy says, catching Davide under the pits. "Thanks. You saved my life!" The two exchanged smiles and left it at that. % As the two pulled into the ranch driveway, Juan driving, gave Riley the opportunity to scruntinize the property. After his conversation with Sal Barberio, the store owner's words hit home, Riley seeing several areas of broken fence, temporarily patched with barbed wire. After hauling all the new goods indoors, he gave a chuckle. "What?" Juan asked. "All this new stuff we bought, even not out of their boxes, makes this place look like a real dump!" "Nothing which a coat of paint can't cure," Juan have fibbed. "Yeah right. Ten coats of paint wouldn't make this place look immaculate." He stubbed a floor tile with his foot, the same place which has grown from a quarter-size to almost the size of a saucer. "I suppose that's what living alone does to a guy. I just got used to things being the same old same old." "Happens," Juan said, placing a hand on Riley's shoulder. "Well right now I'm kind of strapped for cash being I just had a new roof put on the barn, so the paint will have to make do," he settled for. Hanging on Riley's shoulder, Juan offers, "I have some money left over from tuition... money I got when I turned eighteen which I'm not using right now, if you want to do some remodeling?" "Nah. Wouldn't be right and all this being my place." "I beg your pardon?" "What?" Riley tried guessing between the lines. "First, if you think I'm going to up and leave you're dead wrong. Second, I'm just as excited as you are about having Davide coming to live with us. You think I'm going to become a father and then up and leave the kid?" "The kid. Oh yeah. Forgot about him," Riley chortled. "So what's your point?" He cut to the chase. "How much do you think it would cost to get this place in shape?" "In shape? Like?" Walking over to the stove, Juan asks, "When was this last replaced? 1908?" "For your information I put it in brand new in 1994!" "Oh man what a slob your are. The grease has got to be a foot deep!" "So. All it needs is a little cleaning." "And what happened here?" Juan makes mention of the cracked glass in the oven door. "Oh that," he giggles, "brought a young one in from the barn to keep warm. He done gone and kicked it." "So," Juan was out to make a point, "You ruined the oven because of your kind heart?" Standing there with a smile aglow on his face, Juan approaches, puts his hands on Riley's torso and begins kissing him. "Looks like I'm getting with a good man." "Likewise," he's left with a smile, answering Juan in one word to relay the same feelings back. "So, what do you think of my idea?" "I dunno. It's going to take a good chunk of money to make this dump look like something." Off the top of his head, Juan offers, "Well, do you think we can make the kitchen look halfway decent with a hundred or two hundred thousand?" Riley blinked, saying, "You mean a thousand or two?" "No. I meant one hundred thousand or two?" "Where in the hell are you going to get that kind of money?" "I told you. When I turned eighteen I had some money do me and...." Juan had already explained he was from Bedminster, New Jersey. Another Jerseyite could relate to the upscale living, but out here in the sticks it didn't mean much to a country police officer. After explaining about the first part of an endowment willed to him by his late father, Riley had to take a seat. "So how much do you have left from the first million?" Sitting down, spreading his legs, facing Riley, crotches facing each other, Juan leaned his elbow on Riley's shoulders as he said, "I wasted about fifteen grand on my first year old college. I was thinking about buying a cool set of wheels, but can settle for something more practical. So," he turns his head and looks the kitchen over, "how much do you think it will take to fix this joint up?" He almost slid down Riley's legs when he got up, instead Riley hauling him up and into his arms. "If you're serious about this then we've got to go do something." Leaving everything as is, everything piled up on the sofa and floor, Riley dragged Juan out of the house. "Where are we going?" He asked. Riley just said, "Get in. I'll tell you when we get there." Moments later Riley pulled his 4x4 into a parking space lining van Dusen Blvd. "Chic Hair Salon? You're getting a haircut?" "No, idiot. Up there?" Riley pointed at the lettering on the wide, glass window of the second story. Standing out on the sidewalk, Juan read, "Eric Danziger, attorney?" Before reading anything else, including the face of a guy he saw waiting his turn at `Chic', Riley had grabbed Juan's arm and they were on their way up to the second floor office. % Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.