Passing the Torch

Author’s Note: In my last story, The Boys of Summer, I dealt with teenage peer relationships. This story, while still book length, is a third as long as Ricky’s epic summer saga. It is in the “Man and Boy” genre, or, if you will “Intergenerational.” The age difference drives the whole dynamic of this book, though the “boy,” as you will see, is no child at all, and the “man” is not the type who usually falls for young guys. So it has its twists, and you will be surprised. All is not as it seems, even from the beginning.

Passing the Torch starts off slowly. It had to. It had to because these guys need to get to know each other. Personally, I find the initial stages of an affair great fun – the flirting, the testing, the probing, the challenging – I call it “the dance.” These guys “dance” for a while, and I am keeping it real throughout this whole book; thus, I could not neglect detailed and lingering preliminaries. The sexy parts will come, and they come, indeed, many times, hot and heavy… But! We need to travel with these bro’s at their own pace to get there, so take your time, and sip this liquor as they unfold before each other.

The Way North

On impulse, Nathan decided to fill the pickup’s tank in Santa Clarita. It was a strange whim, for he still had a half tank, and gas was much cheaper in Bakersfield than it was in that northernmost suburb of Los Angeles.

But then, he was not much concerned about money any more.

He had never stopped at that particular crossing on Interstate 5. It looked liked an easy exit and a fast onramp back, so he left the freeway. Santa Clarita was typical suburbia – boring houses, the same, repeated apartment buildings, gas stations, strip malls, generic department stores, fast food joints, and big brand restaurants. He could not imagine why anyone would want to live there.

It was mid-morning on a sunny, summer, early June day. The commuter traffic period had passed. The Chevron was not busy. He pulled his Chevy up to a pump near the doors of the mini mart. Perhaps, he thought, he would grab a snack or a coffee.

Nathan did not see the dashing young man walking his bicycle near the doors until he was swiping his credit card at the terminal by the pump. Oddly enough, he noticed the bike before he looked at the tall, blond, rider on the other side of it, for it was an unusual sight in that area to see touring bike equipped with panniers front and back, and it appeared to be loaded with gear.

When he did look up to study the cyclist, their eyes met. He was a stunning youth. He had strong, angular face with high cheekbones, a nose that looked like it had met a fist or a baseball at least once, and he had piercing, hawklike, blue eyes. He was a fine mix of tough and pretty. He was a bit sunburned and the blond hair that stuck out in casual tufts from his small, classic, blue and white riding cap perched on the back of his head was so bright it was white. Stringy, messy windblown hair, it was charming. He was all boy. Completely natural. He probably did not even own a mirror. His age was hard to determine. He could be a big sixteen year-old. He could be in his early twenties. He was a handsome devil. Seriously ripped, he had big, bicyclist’s thighs, a powerful ass, and a relatively lighter but still buff upper body. He had, Nathan guessed, perhaps seven percent body fat.

This was an athlete.

Nathan did not ogle the boy like a creep, but he did look.

The young man was not wearing riding tights. He had on loose gray shorts of a light, synthetic fabric that more resembled backpacking attire than bicycling wear, but he did wear a tight bicycling jersey that revealed an exquisite torso. On his back was a small and sleek backpack, probably what was called a “camel back” because it carried a water bag. The style was more mountain bike than road bike in the look. In Nathan’s opinion, it was a look, and it had been carefully chosen.

His red lips were lush, and even from that distance he could see that they were wind chapped.

He was a great looking guy, beautiful in every detail.

All this, Nathan took in from one, sharp, discerning glance.

The bicyclist kept the eye contact; in fact, he wheeled his bike right over and asked Nathan in a pleasant young man’s tenor, “Hey man, I’m trying to get a lift over the hill. You going that way?”

“Over the hill” meant what Californians called “the Grapevine.” It was the old name for the highway that crossed the Santa Ynez mountains from the Los Angeles basin to the great central valley of California. Nathan happened to know that there were few bicycle routes through that range, and riding on the freeway was illegal.

Putting the gas nozzle into the receptacle of the big, dark green pickup, he said, “Sure. I’ll give you a lift. How far you headed?”

“I was gonna pick up one of the smaller roads outside of Bakersfield, actually. I was hanging here hoping to find someone with a truck, ya’ know?”

“Yeah. I know. Not many ways over the mountains.” Nathan did not tell him how far he was headed. His experience with picking up hitchhikers suggested that one sometimes needed an excuse to offload them quickly.

Nathan had no plan to hit on this gorgeous youth. What he hoped for was a good conversationalist. He could use the diversion from the weight of things on his mind. If he proved to be dull and untalkative, Nathan would drop him off politely. Bakersfield was only an hour’s drive from Santa Clarita.

“You going camping?” the young man asked, glancing in the back of the truck, where Nathan’s camping gear was strapped down under a cargo net.

“Yep,” Nathan answered. He offered no further explanation, but he was not put off by the boy’s curiosity. It was a good sign.

“Hey,” Nathan said, “while this gas hog fills, how about you hand me up your bike?” To accomplish this, Nathan used a well practiced move of stepping on the back tire, grabbing the inside of the side of the bed, and hopping up and into it.

“It’s kinda heavy,” the kid warned. “I got all my gear, ya’ know?”

“OK, well, heft it up as high as you can and I’ll lift it over. You got anything that will spill? We’ll have to lay it on its side, but we can do it so your pretty bike won’t get fucked up.”

Nathan’s words were meant to reassure this guy that he would not casually toss it in the truck.

It was a pretty bike. Nathan knew enough about bicycles to see that this was no cheap bike. It was chipped and worn in spots, but it was well maintained. Every aspect of the bike showed a certain pride and care. Even the little straps of the panniers had an extra tie put in them so instead of dangling down, they were swept back and tucked in. Probably to streamline them a bit. It was a cool looking setup. The guy had skill and taste. He also knew that anyone so particular about their gear would not want it scratched.

He was delighted to see how this youth hefted the bike. He got into a low squat, grabbed the lower part of the frame, and using his big leg muscles, gave the whole thing a fast toss in the air. Once his hands were at chest level, he did another dip with his knees, and, again, using his leg muscles rather than his arms, tossed the bike up so that his arms were straight up.

Nathan chuckled at the performance. “I see you know how to do a power clean and jerk, brother. You are making this too easy!”

Nathan picked up the bike just above the places where the boy’s bicyclist’s glove encased hands were, touching them lightly as he lifted the bike the rest of the way. It wasn’t that heavy though, hardly fifty pounds.

Nathan, when he had the bike in the bed, stood with it near the back and looked over his camping gear. The boy hopped in lightly, entering from the back of the truck. He noticed that he had not shaved legs, but legs that had been clipped; either that, or the hair had grown out. Only serious bicyclists did that. Nathan smiled at the kid. He told him, “I know what you are thinking. You don’t want your bike fucked up getting jostled around.”

The beautiful young man looked down shyly and back up with a bright smile. He said, “Yeah. You’re right! I need this bike, man!”

“I got you. Well, I don’t want a hole poked in my gear either, and I’ve hauled bikes before. I’m picky about my gear too. Here, we can lay it like this.”

Nathan’s lashed down camping gear occupied no more than half of the bed. Carefully, he found a spot to lay the bike. From one of his caches, he pulled out a couple of bungee cords and used these to secure the frame to the steel rings on the inside of the bed.

“There. It won’t move at all. How about that?”

Still standing in the back, the kid nodded. He was taking off his riding gloves, and he had flipped his backpack off one shoulder to stuff them into the small net bags at the sides. He was about an inch shorter than Nathan, who was a tall man. Quite the young god. He held out his hand to shake. “Name’s Adrian.”

“Nathan,” he said, shaking Adrian’s big, strong hand. Adrian had a nice handshake. Firm and friendly. His smiling eyes were so blue, they were sapphire!

Wow!

He saw that Adrian had only a touch of fine, blond hair on his cheeks and chin. Nathan himself had not really needed to shave every day until he was well into his twenties. Adrian did not need to shave at all.

He hopped out over the side of the truck, saying, “I was going to get a coffee and a snack. You want anything? My treat.”

Adrian said, “I’m good, Nathan. I got water and food in my pack. How about I watch the gear while you go in?”

“Sure.” Nathan carefully removed the gas nozzle so as to not get a single drop on the paint. He went inside. He got a coffee, and then, thinking that Adrian just might change his mind, also grabbed a couple of Gatorades, and once at the cash register, what looked to be some high quality, locally made beef jerky. Even in suburbia, individuality tried to grow in the cracks of conformity. Normally, Nathan was a health food nut, but that day he didn’t want to bother searching for a place that actually sold real food. He had plenty of that in the truck anyway, but he did not want to dig into that for the trip.

Returning, he found Adrian standing with his back to him, at the front of the truck, a hand on one hip, and his big, strong butt cocked in the hottest way as he stood one-legged with one foot hooked behind an ankle. It was a cute pose. Nathan felt a twinge looking at the boy’s spectacular ass. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, and a big, high, powerful set of buns. He looked splendid. Truly a magnificent beauty of a youth.

Adrian was looking up at the sky to the north. It was a bit gray there. Odd, for a summer day, but Tejon Pass was known for weird weather.

Nathan was pleased to see that Adrian was not leaning on the truck. He hated it when people did that.

All of Adrian’s clothes looked expensive, but they were also clearly worn. His gray shorts, he noticed, had a few stains, and there was a spot that had been sewn and patched. To Nathan, these were all excellent signs. Adrian appeared to like quality, but he did not care whether his gear looked brand new. Instead, he tried to make it last. His shoes were another giveaway. Nathan knew the kind of light Timberland he wore. They were two hundred dollar shoes. This was a particular guy, but he had none of that self-consciousness that was the giveaway for for middle-class wannabes.

Nathan was going to enjoy drawing him out.

Adrian commented as Nathan rejoined him, “Is this a custom paint job on your truck?”

“Yep. I went over the base color of forest green with some candy and gold metal flake, followed by clear coat.”

“It’s a fucking beautiful truck. I like the black rims, too!”

“Thanks man. I’m kind of a gear head. Wait’ll you hear the engine!”

“Can I see it?”

“Sure!”

The kid was really scoring points!

Nathan opened the driver’s side door, put the cold drinks and jerky in the small ice chest behind the passenger seat, and his coffee in the cup holder. He popped the hood release. “Shit. May as well check the fluids.”

He reached behind the seat to grab the rag in the case above his tools, tools that he always kept in the extended cab.

Adrian gave him an appreciative whistle as Nathan exposed the gleaming innards of his truck’s engine. It was not a stock engine, and every aspect had been detailed and improved. Adrian asked, “What year is it?”

“It’s a 2006. An SS with a custom six liter. Fast as fuck, dude!”

Nathan knew perfectly well that hot rods were great “boy bait.” But he really did not want to brag about his truck. He was simply glad that Adrian had noticed.

“Don’t you have a problem with California smog laws?”

“Nah. It’s all legal, but there are things you can do; that’s why I just stuffed the big engine in. It does seventy almost idling. It’s all re-geared with a hot rear end and progressive suspension. I am still thinking of going with a narrowed rear axle and putting on some wide tires, but, you know, for car nuts, your ride is always a work in progress.”

“Shit. You went all out! I’m the same way with bikes – always improving ’em!”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, wanting to change the subject as he checked the dipstick. “You need your bike; I need my truck. I spend a lot of time in it, you know? Fucking LA means driving a LOT.”

Adrian nodded, still looking over the engine compartment. There was no way the kid would not figure out that he either had good credit or lots of money.

Sure enough, he asked, as Nathan checked the power steering fluid, “So what kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a carpenter.”

“Well, you must be a pretty good carpenter to afford a truck like this!”

Nathan did not want to go there. He only said, “I don’t have a family to support. That makes a difference.”

Adrian only smiled and nodded agreeably. As always, his well-maintained truck did not need a drop of any fluid, but Nathan always checked anyway. He closed the hood, not letting it bang, and told him, “Hop in, dude. We got some miles to make!”

They got in. Nathan fired up his hot rodded truck. Adrian was properly impressed by the deep growl of the big motor. “I see what you mean. That engine sounds like a big, purring cat!”

“Yeah. Check this out!”

As they hit the onramp, Nathan nudged the throttle. The big truck rocketed up to the typically fast speed of Southern California freeway traffic in about a second and a half, making Adrian’s head snap back against the head rest of the custom leather seats.

“Fuuuuck!” he exclaimed, grinning happily, exposing a great set of pearly whites.

“Yeah!” Nathan agreed, entering the traffic and smoothly getting right into the fast lane. He was not speeding much then. He reserved his truly high speed driving for special occasions. “But hey man, us gear heads can go on and on about our rigs. What about you? What’s your story? How did you come to be in Tackytown on a touring bike? Where did you come from? Where are you going?”

“That’s funny,” Adrian chuckled. “You call Santa Clarita, ‘Tackytown!’ Like that song… Uh…”

He sang it in the sweetest, cutest, boyish way:

Little boxes on the hillside

And they all look ticky-tacky

And they ALL look just the same!

And while Nathan chuckled over his rendition of Malvina Reynolds’ song, he carried on, happily announcing, “But, anyway, check it, dude! I just finished riding across the whole damn country!”

“Wow! You did an east to west route?”

“Yeah, but, hey, you mind if I charge my phone and backup battery?”

“No problem. You see the charging port? You have an adapter? I have a couple in the glove box if you don’t.”

“I have an adapter and the cords.” Adrian still had his pack in his lap. He dug into it and pulled out a port, two cords, a phone, and what looked like a small solar charger. Nathan had used those. Charging them with sunlight was a slow process, so an outlet was handy.

Nathan told him he could stash his backpack behind the seat, liking that Adrian had waited to be invited.

In a few minutes, they would be passing “Magic Mountain.” It was a famous amusement park. Each time it was sold or bought by another corporate entity, they would try and change the name, but all the locals refused to cooperate, so “Magic Mountain” it remained. Nathan chuckled at the eternal stupidity of corporate drones who thought they could leverage unearned fame to a new brand. That was not how the world worked.

Adrian, answering Nathan’s earlier question about his bicycle trip, told him. “Yeah, so we started in Manhatten, rode down the coast to Chesapeake Bay ’cause I wanted to see that… Hey! Is that Magic Mountain?”

Nathan chuckled. It’s fun to be right!

“Yep. You were saying?”

They would be hitting the grade up over the mountains soon. Nathan’s powerful truck smoothly surged pass most of the traffic. At this passage of his life, he could not give a damn about a speeding ticket, but he tried to keep it under fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit. He generally had an instinct that told him where the cops were, and he would slow down then. But at that time, he sensed none. He pushed it up to ninety.

Adrian continued, “So, anyway, we went through Virginia and cut across the Appalachians… We basically followed the ‘Transamerica Trail.’ You ever heard of that?”

“Yeah, actually, I have. But doesn’t that go to Portland?”

“Astoria, actually, all the way to the coast, downriver from Portland, but in Colorado, I had a big fight with my riding partner, and we split up, and I went south through New Mexico and Arizona, making up my own route. I finished in Santa Monica. I stood barefoot in the ocean! It took, like, almost nine months! Then I spent a while in Van Nuys with this girl I know. I did some work with her dad, cleaning carpets all over the San Fernando Valley. You guys just call it, ’The Valley,’ right? But I didn’t want to ride again until further north. I got all the way here with one ride. It’s tricky, ya’ know. I always need to find rides who can take my bike, but basically, after, like, four-thousand miles? I figure I paid my dues, so I don’t think it’s a big deal to hitch through boring places; also, I didn’t want to box my bike to take the bus or the train. There’re a lot of trains where you can just wheel your bike on and there’re racks, but all the trains out of LA don’t have that feature! Can you believe it? You have to disassemble them and put them in a box! Like no one rides a bike into or out of LA north to south? Fucking weird! But the train from Bakersfield to Sacramento lets you wheel your bike on. I was thinking of riding again after Sacramento.”

Nathan noticed this was a slightly different story than the one Adrian had first told him. Originally, he had said he was going to ride from Bakersfield. It didn’t matter, but it was a hint that suggested Adrian might be amenable to a ride further north. Nathan stored that fact away without making any commitment. He was, in fact, driving almost all the way to Oregon.

“Yeah. I get it about hitchhiking. I used to hitch a lot, once upon a time. Mainly, though, I hiked. But, anyway, I happen live in Santa Monica, and I grew up in Sac. That’s ‘Sacramento.’”

“Yeah? Santa Monica’s a great place. It was fun being where I had seen all these scenes from movies.”

Nathan did not think it was great place at all. In fact, he had grown to despise Santa Monica; indeed, the entirety of Southern California. But he was not thinking of that. Mainly he was musing on the things Adrian had told him. He had answered a lot of Nathan’s questions already. First, he had been saying “we,” but he was alone. Second, he had been visiting a girl. That answered that! Nathan had not really had a ping on his “gaydar” with Adrian. He seemed as straight as they come, yet he was already proving to be an entirely pleasant road companion, chatty, intelligent, curious, and full of adventure.

They were just hitting the first grade then. Nathan had to slow down because he had caught up to a pack of cars. This pack was probably being slowed by a truck or a motor home trying to get around a truck while the fast lane also had a slowpoke. It was always that way on this part of the freeway.

He was glad to have a cheerful passenger with whom to talk. It kept him from getting angry at inept drivers.

It was a little surprising to hear what Adrian said next. “Hey Nathan?”

“Yeah?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you kinda look look like Daniel Craig? You know, the British actor who plays James Bond? Even your haircut is like his. But I’d say, more like, ‘Daniel Craig meets, uh… like, Brad Pitt!’ You look like a movie star!”

Nathan looked at him sideways. That was not a little twitch on the needle of his “gaydometer.” That was a full slam!

Adrian was looking back at him with a blank-faced expression. Nathan grinned. “I suppose I should say, ‘Thank you?’ Misters Craig and Pitt are dashingly handsome fellows, huh?”

Adrian nodded and grinned his big grin back at him. “You are really buff too, and you know what a ‘power clean’ is; plus, I saw how you handled my bike like it was a feather. You obviously work out.”

There was nothing cutesy or coy in the way he said these things – the way a “swish” would give a compliment. Nathan only complimented him back. “You are pretty buff yourself. But then, you just rode your bike four-thousand miles! And if I have not expressed it, well done and congratulations!

He moved the topic away. “Hey, why don’t you grab us some Gatorades from the chest behind your seat?”

“Sure!”

Nathan was glad to change the subject. He was glad, also, that Adrian was willing to accept some hospitality. The boy undid his seatbelt and lithely twisted around, lifted his backpack where he had placed it on the small ice chest behind his seat and pulled out the big bottles of Gatorade. He opened one and handed it to Nathan and opened the other for himself. Adrian’s voice was bright and curious when commented, “Cucumber lime? I’ve never had this flavor!”

“It’s popular with the Latinos. I work with some. They turned me on to it. Good, huh?”

“Delicious! You know, riding a bike, like ten hours a day, the biggest problem I had was getting enough calories!”

“I know what you mean…”

Nathan’s car phone dinged. Looking at the the caller ID on the onboard screen told him it was his office calling. He held up a finger to Adrian and said, “I gotta take this.”

Adrian remained quiet during the exchange. Nathan pulled over behind a truck and putted along, letting all the cranky drivers have as many hissy fits as they wanted. He would have a chance to blow them all off the road soon enough.

Nathan tapped the screen, accepting the call. “Yeah, Jim. What’s up?”

The truck’s sound system, as good as it was, only made the crackling worse, but he could still hear the stress in his site supervisor’s voice. “You know the fucking Strauss job?”

“Yes. What’s up?”

“Well somehow we had a fire inspector show up. He said the arbor was on a fucking easement! And now Mrs. Strauss is having a fucking fit! She’s threatening to sue us!”

“Hmm. Weird,” Nathan said, not really bothered. “The thing is, we had those plans approved, so how can that fire inspector be right? And why did he show up anyway? We did have the plans approved, right?”

“Yes, damn it! But the next-door neighbor? He called someone and complained. His gardener told me that he was all mad because it blocked his view. What I’m thinking is the plot plan Strauss gave us was not accurate, and the city office just assumed it was without cross-checking. They do that, you know?”

“Yeah. I know. Welcome to The People’s Republic of Santa Monica!”

It was an old joke. Jim laughed. “So what do you think?”

“Well… OK. First, that was great you got the four-one-one by chatting with the gardener. I like the way you did that. A little Spanish goes a long way in this world, man. Cool. Second, have Arturo get the city’s plan. I don’t care if it takes him all day. We’d rather spend twenty an hour on him than one-twenty an hour on a lawyer who’d only spend twenty an hour to get the same info. Dig?”

“Yeah”

“Third, if it turns out the fire inspector is right, and he probably is, well, we’ll tear the arbor down! We’ll have to. That’s the law. Mrs. Strauss can sue us all she wants. Tell her that, but be nice Jim. Be nice! Shit! Buy her flowers! Take her to lunch. Apologize profusely. And tell we will rebuild the arbor in a legal spot in a way that she will like, even if we have to eat shit on this whole job. And don’t worry. She won’t sue. It’ll cost her twenty grand before it even gets before a judge. She’s just upset. OK? And remember, Greene & Company? What do we DO?”

“‘We Make It Right.’ That’s what we do. OK. But that’s not all. Mel showed up drunk about an hour after you left. I sent him home. I told him I was going to talk to you.”

“Again?”

“Yeah.”

Nathan sighed. “Let me ask you this, Jim. What would I do?”

“You’d suspend him long enough to make him hungry and hire him back because he really does do beautiful work. You’re a softie. You like him.”

“Wrong Jim. What I would do – being that I am on vacation and truly need a break – is find someone I trust, and trust him to do the right thing, and then, I’d back his play no matter what he did, and that guy I trust? That’s you! You decide!”

“Well, I want to fire his ass.”

“Like I said, brother. I’ll back your play. Think about it. Talk to him. Do what you think is right.”

“OK, Nathan. You got it, and thanks.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Nathan touched the screen, disconnecting the call.

Adrian smiled at him. “I thought you said you were a carpenter! But it sounds like you own a construction company!”

“I am a carpenter, Adrian. And right now, I’m on vacation, and, anyway, I was going to tell you that when I was about your age, well, a little older, I walked the PCT. You know what that is?”

“Yeah. The Pacific Crest Trail. It goes from Canada to Mexico.”

“Yep. So I know about burning seven thousand calories a day. That’s where I was going with your comment. In fact, the place I’m headed to camp? It’s only a few miles from one of the trailheads in the Trinity Alps, not far from Mount Shasta. I can give you ride the whole way up, if you want.”

The traffic finally cleared up. Adrian did not immediately answer him for he was hanging on and gritting his teeth as Nathan surged the truck forward and artfully weaved through all the cars until he had a clear stretch of highway in front and back. He then matched the average velocity of the general traffic. He liked having a lot of road room around him. He looked over at Adrian and raised his eyebrows.

Adrian grinned his sunny grin. “You are a fast driver, man! Fuck! You just blew through all those cars like nothin’!”

Nodding at the comment distractedly, Nathan asked, “So? You want to be let off in Bakersfield or would you like to get a ride to the far north?” He said it casually so as not to make a big deal out of it, but he felt his heart beat a little faster.

Adrian answered back with equal nonchalance. “I’d like that, Nathan. I only told you I was headed to Bakersfield so you’d have an ‘out’ in case you didn’t want a hitchhiker.”

Nathan laughed, “And I was kinda cagey about how far I was headed myself, but you are an excellent conversationalist, and I am enjoying your company. There is one little problem, however, that might give to a reason to get out at the next good stop.”

“What’s that?” Adrian asked, his voice taking on a touch of worry.

“I’m gay.”

It was always best to say it sooner rather than later; that is, if one cared at all about the person one addressed.

Nathan saw the look. It was only a fleeting instant, but it was a flash of a sneer. They may try to hide it, but so very many straights really did not like queers.

Adrian’s words, however, belied the expression Nathan had seen. “Why should that be a problem?”

“Because the close physical proximity of such a beautiful young man such as yourself is putting this old guy in a lot of sexual tension.”

There was that flash of sneer again, the hint of a curl to his pretty lips, but more like a squint in his dark blue eyes. Adrian said, “Well, it’s not like you’re gonna reach over and grab my balls, is it?”

“No man. That’s not how I roll.”

“It’s cool, dude, anyhow, actually, I understand about that kind of tension. That was the problem I had with my riding partner. He couldn’t handle it. I was cool with him, but he wasn’t cool with me!”

“So he waited until you were in Colorado before telling you he was gay?”

Adrian laughed lightly. “No! I waited until we were in Colorado before telling him I was gay!”

Nathan shook his head and snorted through his nose. He was not expecting this development! “You’re kidding me,” he said.

Adrian smiled brightly. “No man, that’s not how I roll.”