Written by Mark The Goodpen
By now I'm sure you know the drill, so I won't bore you with another disclaimer to ignore.
Thank you to everyone who has e-mailed their feedback on this story. You're e-mails let me know I should keep the Sierra Inn in business.
Feedback is always welcome at email@example.com
Brian once again surprises me with his question, he seems to be full of surprises. I look at him for a second, his head resting on the pillow and even in the dark I can make out the outline of that sly grin of his. Without saying a word I walk over to my side of the bed, letting my towel fall to the floor somewhere along the way. I lay down on my side, facing Brian. I gently put my right hand on his chest, as he looks at me. Even in the darkness of the room, the only light coming in through the door way from the hall, I can see Brian's blue eyes looking right at me. Slowly I let my hand walk its way down Brian's torso, from his chest down his stomach, but stopping at his waist.
With his eyes still looking into mine, I lean my face forward and our lips touch, just gently at first. I back away briefly, just long enough to give Brian a little smile before putting my lips on his again. This time our kiss is long and passionate. While our tongues are in a duel I let my hand travel past Brian's waist, ever so slowly walking my fingers down his pelvis. He is obviously eager for me to reach his penis as he keeps bucking his hips up trying to get my hand further south faster than I am making it go. When I let my index finger graze the head of his penis he moans loudly into my mouth. Deciding to tease him a little longer a let my fingers trace their way around his pubic bone, with out touching his hard as steel penis. We break our kiss, Brian still looking at me, non-verbally begging me to stop my little teasing game.
Ignoring the look I move my hand so it is gently rubbing the inside of his right thigh. Slowly I lean my head down to his chest and start licking his nipple while still rubbing his thigh. After a few swipes with my tongue, I put my lips around his nipple and start licking quickly over the rounded stiff flesh of his nipple. Feeling my mouth on him, Brian heaves his chest upwards pushing his nipple into my mouth, at the time spreading his legs wider, trying now to get my hand to move up to his groin. After a minute passes with Brian continually pushing into my mouth I release his nipple and gently start kissing my way down his torso, following the trail my hand had gone down just moments ago. This time, though, when I get to his groin I immediately take his stiff penis into my mouth. I gently start licking the underside of the head with my tongue, I feel Brian again thrust his hips to the ceiling forcing his boner deeper into my mouth until my nose is buried in pelvis.
While Brian's butt is still elevated off the bed I put my hands under him, and roll over. Now with him laying on top of me he quickly gets the idea and begins to frantically fuck my mouth. I keep my lips tight around his penis, while my hands roam up and down his thighs. I can feel the muscles in his legs work as he thrusts himself deep into my mouth until my nose is pressed into his pelvis then back until barely the head of his penis is inside of my lips. As he thrusts in and out I let my tongue run up and down the underside of his penis. Brian starts to groan and mutter something that I can't understand just as I feel his thrusts get even more frantic and with two more hard thrusts his legs tighten up, and his penis starts to jerk in my mouth.
Brian collapses on top of me, my face buried in his pelvis as his penis, which is still in my mouth, stops jerking. I let him lay like that for a couple of minutes, but when the need to take a breathe gets too much I put my hands on the small of his back and gently roll over so he is once again laying on the bed on his back. I slowly take my mouth off of Brian's still hard penis and look up at to his face. His head is lying back on the pillow as he stares at the ceiling. I can tell his eyes are open and he has a small smile on his face.
"You like that don't you?" I ask him, as I crawl up and rest my head next to his.
"Yeah!" Brian answers quickly, as he turns his head to look at me. "That's totally cool!"
"Good," I say. "It was fun for me too."
We lay there silently for a little while, me not even thinking about the fact that I, myself am hard as a rock. That is until Brian, suddenly sits up in bed. With out saying a word, he crawls down towards my crotch and starts stroking my penis. Only this time, while he is stroking he straddles my stomach with his legs while he is facing my feet. He sits gently on my chest and I close my eyes as I feel his warm breath hit the head my penis, his hands stroking me the entire time. When I feel his weight lift off of me, I open my eyes and see that Brian has scooted his way backwards slightly so that his still very stiff penis is hanging right over my mouth. I gently put my hands on his butt and press to bring his penis down to my open mouth. I feel Brian's torso land on mine, his penis going further towards the back of my mouth. As I start to use my tongue on his penis I feel him start to do the same to mine. Only a couple of seconds pass before I feel Brian start thrusting his hips, more gently this time than before. When he starts to thrust his hips his head slips a little and I feel my penis slide deeper into my mouth. I hear him cough a little, I expect him to pull his mouth off of me, but instead he just keeps on thrusting his hips, his head sort of bouncing around my penis.
I press my lips tightly around his penis again, this time though on each downward thrust I push on his butt cheeks so his penis goes as far back in my mouth as it can. He is not big enough yet to reach my throat, but I want him to feel what it is like to have his penis totally surrounded by a warm, wet mouth. Meanwhile his mouth is working magic on my penis as he mimics what I am doing to him and presses his lips tightly around my shaft as he moves his head up and down in time with his hips. Each time his mouth moves up my shaft I feel his tongue run over the head of my penis, which drives me wild. Just as I feel my balls draw up towards my body, Brian's hips begin to thrust more frantically. I try to pull off to tell him I'm cumming also, but can't as my head is trapped between his legs and the pillow. Suddenly Brian's penis begins to jerk in my mouth, at the same time I feel my orgasm hit me hard. I can feel the cum exploding out of my penis, and right into Brian's mouth. Again I expect him to pull off, even be angry with me for not warning him, but he keeps his lips loosely around the head of my cock as it spurts.
By the time I have finished cumming, Brian's penis has already stopped jerking and begun to go back to a flaccid state after two blowjobs in a matter of minutes. He lets my shrinking penis fall out of his mouth before rolling back onto the bed. He turns around and sits on the bed facing me. I look up at him in minor amazement. His lips are even redder than they normally are and puffy, some of my cum has spilled out onto his chin, but he doesn't look angry at all.
"Did I make you happy?" he asks, his puffy lips stretching into a smile.
"Yes," I answer emphatically. "Sorry I couldn't warn about it."
"That's okay," he says. "I was going to keep it in my mouth anyway."
"You were?" I ask, surprised. "Why?"
"Because, I wanted to," he says, the smile now turning into that sly grin he likes to bring out at times like these.
"Well thank you," I say a smile of my own coming to my face. "But hold on a sec..." I say as I roll out of bed. I quickly go into the bathroom and grab a washcloth from the drawer and wet it a little, before going back into the bedroom. Brian is sitting on the end of the bed, waiting for me.
"Here," I say, as I gently use the wet washcloth to clean the reminisce of my enjoyment from his chin.
"Thanks," he says when I'm done.
I go back into the bathroom and dump the washcloth in the sink. When I get back to the bedroom Brian has moved underneath the covers, his face the only part of him that isn't covered. I climb in next to him and he immediately puts his head on my chest. My arm goes around him, and I give him a strong squeeze as I kiss the top his head.
"I love you, angel," I say.
"Love you too," Brian mumbles as he quickly drifts off to sleep.
I have so much going on, I find it difficult to fall asleep. What has just happened in bed temporarily allowed me to forget that Brian had admitted being taken to the Sierra Inn by the men on the streets. For the first time I find myself wishing I had gone to work as a general manager at a chain like most of my friends from college had. I feel like maybe all I have done with the Sierra Inn is open a safe haven for drug dealers and johns. I bet the Ritz doesn't have this problem. In some way I think if the Sierra Inn wasn't there maybe Brian wouldn't have had such a hard time on the streets. Though I quickly realize that's just my guilt talking. If it wasn't for the Sierra Inn, it would have been another motel or some deserted parking lot. I realize if it wasn't for me opening the Sierra Inn, I would have never met Brian, and he more than likely would still be on the streets. I remember back to when I was looking for a place to put the motel. I had been two days away from signing the final papers to purchase land clear on the other side of town when the seller backed out, saying he had decided to keep the land instead. Obviously pissed by the news I went for a drive to calm myself down, and that's how I spotted the vacant lot for sale that is now where the Sierra Inn sits.
Its funny how things like that can work out sometimes. If I had opened the Sierra Inn where I originally planned to, I would have never met Brian. Hell if I hadn't been so nuts as to try to open a motel right out of college I would have never met Brian. I wonder what made Brian stop at the Sierra Inn that night, two weeks ago now. If he was trying to hide there are a lot of better places than the well lit front entrance of my motel. Maybe he wasn't trying to hide, maybe he thought that the kid who pimped him out would be by motel. I don't want to push Brian into talking about his time on the streets. He took a big step tonight by telling me what he did, and for now that is enough. But I start to think that maybe, there was something more than chance playing into us meeting. I have never believed in fate, but as I lay in bed, with Brian sleeping peacefully on my chest I can't help but to start re-visiting the belief.
Finally my day begins to catch up with me, and I feel my eyelids get heavy. I close my eyes, visions of what played out in bed tonight dancing in my head as I drift off into a deep sleep.
The alarm clock is the only thing that could wake me, as I am in a dead sleep the entire night. I give the alarm clock a hard smack, to let it know I don't appreciate it interrupting my slumber. Only after rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I realize Brian's rolled his way away from me during the night and is still sleeping, or at least pretending to, on his other side.
"Come on kiddo," I say. "Time to get up."
"Nooo," he says. "I don't feel good."
"Don't feel good?" I ask, worried that maybe my cooking wasn't good after all.
"My throat hurts," he mumbles, without turning around to look at me.
"Well maybe it's just dry," I say, knowing when I first wake up my throat hurts sometimes too. "Try waking up, see what happens."
"But I don't feel good," Brian mumbles again, as he rolls onto his back.
I put my hand on his forehead, and can instantly tell he has at least a small fever.
"Does anything else hurt?" I ask. "Like your head or stomach?"
"Just my throat," he says, with a little cough. "I get strep throat a lot. I think I have it now."
I sit up in bed and scratch my head. I didn't realize strep throat could literally hit over night, but a doctor I am not.
"Okay, stay in bed," I say. "I'm going to call my doctor."
"But I don't like doctors," Brian says.
"Sorry angel," I say. "But if you have strep throat you need to see a doctor."
"Why?" he asks.
"Well because he'll give you medicine to make you feel better," I say. "And it'll stop your throat from hurting worse."
"K," Brian says, again with a cough.
I get out of bed, and fight to put on a pair of boxers as I make my way into the living room to find my cell phone. One of these days I'll learn to not try to walk and put on pants at the same time, but today isn't that day. After nearly breaking my neck I find my cell phone sitting on the breakfast bar where I had left it sitting last night. Luckily I keep all numbers I might ever need on my contact list, including my doctor's. He's not a pediatrician, obviously, but he is a family doctor. I quickly find his office number on the contact list, and his receptionist picks up.
"Well our first appointment isn't until seven," she says, after I've told her my situation. "Dr. Johnson's just gotten in himself. We can squeeze you in at eight thirty. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, that'll be fine," I say. "Thank you very much."
I go back into the bedroom and find that Brian has fallen back to sleep. Deciding to let him sleep, I go back into the living room to make another phone call.
"Sierra Inn, this is Laura how may I help you?" I hear on the other end of the phone as I sit on my couch.
"Laura this is Kevin," I say.
"Oh hi boss," she says. "What are you doing calling? Shouldn't you be here soon?"
"Not today," I say. "Brian's sick, I'm taking him to the doctor in a couple of hours."
"What's wrong?" Laura asks.
"Eh he has a sore throat," I say. "But he said he gets strep throat a lot so I figured I should take him to see the doctor."
"Good thinking," Laura says. "Don't forget to call the school. You don't need CPS to see a truancy."
"Thank you," I say, having not thought of doing that. "I'll do that right now. Oh and I'm going to call Matt to see if he can work today."
"Must you?" Laura asks.
"Come on, Laura," I say, quickly. "Remember yesterday? You said you would give him a chance."
"I know," she says. "Sorry, I'll try to be more understanding."
"Thank you," I say. "I'll talk to you later."
I quickly call Brian's school to excuse him for the day, before calling Matt.
"What?" Matt answers, obviously I have woken him up.
"Hey Matt it's me," I say.
"Oh," Matt says, sleepily. "Sorry, Kev, I was asleep. What's up?"
"I hate to do this to you," I say. "But do you think you could work today. Brian's sick."
"Yeah, if you need me to I can go in," he says, obviously not happy even though he tries to hide his displeasure.
"Thank you, man I really appreciate it," I say. "You don't have to work a full day, just be there to do the processing from last night."
"Okay," Matt says. "Hope the kid feels better."
"Thanks," I say.
I go back into the bedroom, and Brian is lying on his back still sound asleep. I gently climb into bed next to him, and gently start to stroke his bangs away from his eyebrows. Watching him sleep, I see him shiver slightly from time to time and I can't help but start worrying. What if it's more than strep throat? What if he needs to go to the hospital? Should I take him to the emergency room instead of waiting for the doctors' appointment? I told the receptionist his symptoms and she didn't make any mention of going to the hospital. But what does she know? She answers phones for a living, she's not a nurse. I realize this is part of being a new parent, the worrying. At least I have a leg up on most people who have been parents for two weeks, my kid can talk. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down, with the thought I'm blowing things way out of proportion. It's just a sore throat, it might not even be strep. Dr. Johnson is good at what he does and he will make sure Brian gets better quickly.
Maybe I have received my first test as a parent, with Brian's crying session on Sunday, but today I will get my first test as a care taker and it scares me. I have never been good at taking care of things, and now I have another human being depending on me to take care of him when he is sick. I guess it was stupid of me, but I hadn't really planned on Brian getting sick, as big of an oversight as that might be. Just as my worry starts to come back full force, Brian begins to wake up.
"Hi, angel," I say, when I see his blue eyes looking back at me. Usually the blue is with a backdrop of clear white, but today the white is interrupted by streaks of red. "How are you feeling?"
"Crappy," he says, softly.
"Well we have an appointment with my doctor in a little while," I say. "He'll take good care of you."
"K," Brian says, as he pulls the covers even higher over his shoulders.
"Does your throat still hurt?" I ask him.
"Yeah," he says, with a nod.
"Anything else hurt?" I ask.
"My legs," he says. "They feel heavy."
"Yep, you are definitely sick," I say. "But you know what the good news is?" I say, trying to act calm so Brian doesn't get worried.
"What?" he asks.
"When we get back from the doctor you can just lay on the couch and watch T.V until you feel better," I say.
"Cool," he says, obviously forcing a little smile.
Soon it is time for us to get ready to go the doctor's. Brian moves sluggishly as he gets dressed and we make our way to the car. The car ride is silent except for the radio, as Brian tries to sleep with his head resting against the window. When we get to the doctor's office I have to fill out paperwork for Brian, who sits next to me watching the Today Show on the television that's mounted to the wall. I fill out the paperwork the best I can but I don't know Brian's medical history. I ask him to help with what he can, and just like when we registered him for school he helps me fill in most of the blanks. Finally after an hour long wait, that goes past our appointment time, the nurse, who is around my age calls Brian's name. She escorts us back to an exam room where she quickly puts a thermometer in Brian's ear.
"101," she says, after pulling the thermometer away from Brian's ear. "Looks like we have a sick young man here," she says to me.
"He seemed feverish," I say, trying to sound knowledgeable.
"Well the flu is going around," the nurse says, as she wraps a blood pressure cuff around Brian's arm.
"Am I going to need a shot?" Brian asks, nervously.
"I don't think so," she says, shaking her head. "You'll probably just need to take some medicine."
A slight look of nervousness comes to Brian's face after the nurse leaves, and we sit waiting for the doctor. I try to comfort him by telling him that, Dr. Johnson is really nice and will help him feel better. Finally after a few minutes of silence the door to the room opens and Dr. Johnson comes in. I have been going to Dr. Johnson since I was a teenager, he is in his late fifties, tall and slim with salt and pepper hair, that's more salt than pepper.
"Well hello Kevin," he says with surprise when he sees me sitting on the chair in the corner of the room next to the exam table, where Brian is sitting.
"Hi, Dr. Johnson," I say, with a little smile. "This is my foster son, Brian."
"Well, I'll be," Dr. Johnson says. "Kevin Wasdin, a foster parent. Who would have though?"
"Yeah, well life's full of surprises," I say.
"Guess so," Dr. Johnson says before turning his attention to Brian. "Hi Brian, I'm Dr. Johnson."
"Hi," Brian says, shyly.
"I hear you're not doing well today," Dr. Johnson says, in a sympathetic tone.
"No, I'm not," Brian says.
"Well let's see if we can fix that," Dr. Johnson says, before going over to the sink to wash his hands.
Dr. Johnson does the usual checks, listening to Brian's heart and lungs, feeling his neck, looking in his eyes, ears, and throat. I sit, worrying, in the chair watching as Dr. Johnson silently conducts his exam. Brian, even though nervous and not feeling well, is an ideal patient not complaining once as the doctor pokes and prods at him.
"What is it?" I ask after Dr. Johnson has finished checking Brian's throat.
"I'm thinking strep throat," Dr. Johnson says. "His glands are swollen and that is one nasty looking throat," he says, as he again goes over to the sink to wash his hands. "I'll do a strep test to be sure," he says taking a long q-tip looking thing from a container on the counter. "Okay, Brian this will make you gag a little but it won't hurt at all."
"I know, I've had them before," he says.
"Good, then you know what to expect," Dr. Johnson says, giving him a little smile. "Okay, say ahh."
Brian gags a little as the q-tip hits the back of his throat. Dr. Johnson pulls it out as quickly as he can, and then leaves the room to run the test. Brian leans his back against the wall as we wait silently for Dr. Johnson to come back.
"Well young man, you have strep throat," Dr. Johnson says, when he comes back into the room a few minutes later. "The good news is it's nothing a round of antibiotics won't fix."
"Will I be better by Friday?" Brian asks.
"With the antibiotics, you should start to feel better tomorrow," Dr. Johnson says. "In fact you'll probably be able to go back to school tomorrow."
"Oh," Brian says with some disappointment, and I can't help but chuckle a little.
"I'll give you a prescription for him," Dr. Johnson, tells me. "He'll take it two times a day, once after breakfast and once after dinner. And make sure he takes all of them until they're gone! Even after he starts feeling better. There will be enough for six days," Dr. Johnson instructs me as he is writing out the prescription.
"Okay," I say, as I get out of my chair.
Brian and I leave the doctors office and head for the drug store down the street from our apartment. As we sit on a couple of chairs by the pharmacy waiting for the prescription to be filled I call my Mom to find out, if there is anything I could do to make Brian more comfortable.
"I'm coming down," she says quickly.
"No, Mom you don't need to do that," I say. "I just remember when I was sick when I was a kid you would always make chicken soup and I was wondering if it was easy to make."
"Kevin, you'll never make it right," Mom says. "We'll be down there in about an hour and a half."
Before I can say anything else she hangs up the phone. I am sure she is viewing this as an opportunity to get Brian to like her, and she is not about to pass it up. I figure I shouldn't take that kind of opportunity away from her. Right after I hang up the phone it rings.
"Hello, Kevin this is Larry Quincy."
"Oh, hi Mr. Quincy," I say.
"I was just calling to tell you I have drafted your petition to adopt Brian," he says. "I just need you to sign it, and then I'll send it to CPS."
"And if they approve it's a done deal?" I ask, hopefully.
"Not quite," Mr. Quincy says. "You'll still have to have a hearing, but don't think that the petition going to CPS means we're almost done. They can take forever to process it, and you are going to be hounded by questions, and home visits. No, we're only starting my friend."
"Oh," I say, with the same type of disappointment Brian had when he found out he'll probably be able to go back to school tomorrow.
"So when can you come down to sign the petition?" Mr. Quincy says.
"Well, I'd do it today, except Brian is sick," I say. "I don't want to leave him."
"Oh, sorry to hear that," Mr. Quincy says. "I could have my assistant bring the petition to you. There's really no reason for you to come all the way over here to sign a piece of paper anyway."
"That would be great," I say, happily. "Thank you."
After giving Mr. Quincy my address and setting up that his assistant would be over this afternoon I hang up the phone, just in time for the pharmacist to tell us that our prescription is ready. We head home, the car ride once again silent. When we get to the apartment Brian changes into his sleep pants and a t-shirt, and lies down on the couch to watch television. I bring the comforter and pillow from his bed in and cover him with it, he looks up at me and smiles.
"Hungry?" I ask him.
"A little," he says.
"Good," I say. "You need to eat before you can take your first antibiotic."
"Can I have a pop tart?" he asks.
"Sure," I say tousling his hair a little. "You can even eat it on the couch."
"Thanks," he says with a small smile.
I bring Brian his pop tart, then go back to the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal. I haven't told Brian about the petition because I realize it is a very small step and really doesn't mean we have accomplished anything. I guess I will only feel like celebrating after the adoption is final. I sit at the breakfast bar eating my cereal as Brian watches cartoons and eats his breakfast on the couch. Every once in a while I hear him giggling at the cartoon, the sound is like music to my ears.
After I am done eating, I bring Brian his first antibiotic and a glass of water. He swallows it in one gulp then hands back the glass. Which I put on the breakfast bar for later. I take a seat on the floor, resting my back on the couch, in the middle so I won't obstruct Brian's view of the television. But soon I realize that isn't an issue as at the first commercial I check to see how he is doing and he is already fast asleep. I just stare at him for a while. If you had asked me two weeks ago I would have said watching anybody sleep would be one of the most boring things you could possibly do. But watching Brian sleep is anything but boring. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. His nose twitching ever so slightly every once in a while, his mouth open just a little.
Suddenly there is a knock on the door, that pulls me back to reality but fortunately does not wake Brian up. I open the door and find Mom and Dad standing outside, with shopping bags in hand.
"Hi Kevin," Mom says.
"Hi, come on in," I say in a voice just a little louder than a whisper.
Apparently the multiple footsteps in the apartment wakes Brian up, because after I have shut the door behind my parents I see him looking at us, standing by the door.
"Hey little man," Dad says, as he goes over to Brian. "I hear you're not feeling too good."
"No," Brian says, shaking his head, against his pillow.
"Well Janice's chicken soup will fix you right up," Dad says, tousling Brian's hair, slightly.
"Chicken soup?" Brian asks, raising his head off the pillow.
"Sorry, sweetie, I have to cook it first," Mom says with a smile.
Brian smiles at Mom, when she calls him sweetie and she returns his smile. Brian spends most of the rest of the morning and early afternoon drifting in and out sleep. While Mom is cooking Dad and I sit at the breakfast bar talking about the usual stuff we talk about, nothing important just stuff to kill time. That is until Dad changes the subject on me.
"So is Brain still calling you Dad?" he asks, after checking to see if Brian is sleeping, which he is.
"Yeah," I say. "We had a talk about that the other day actually. I told him that I'm not a replacement for his real Dad, I'm just like Dad number two. And if he wants to he can go back to calling me Kevin. But he said he wants to call me Dad."
"Well I'm glad you talked about that," Dad says. "Kevin, maybe we haven't said it before but your Mom and I are very proud of you. The way you took Brian in, your decision to go about this the smart way and contact CPS. You've really shown us a lot the past couple of weeks."
My parents have never been the type to throw the words "we're proud of you" around, especially my Dad. To say I'm surprised, to hear the words now would be an understatement. It is something I thought would only happen in my dreams, especially regarding the situation with Brian. But now that I have actually heard the words I don't feel like I would have expected. Instead of being happy, guilt once again slaps me right across the face. I know if my parents knew everything they would be ashamed, of coarse I would be in prison so them being ashamed would be the least of my problems. I rationalize what Brian and I do, by telling myself it is out of love, which it is. But still the guilt is there, and now that I have crossed that line it probably will always be there.
"Thank you," I say. "I'm trying my best."
"We know you are," Mom says. "That's part of what impresses us so much. You are trying so hard at something other than that motel. I never thought it would happen."
"Well Brian is very special," I say.
We fall silent for awhile, as we run out of things to say. Brian, wakes up and comes over to the breakfast bar where Dad and I are sitting. The stools aren't very high so Brian is able to sit on my lap safely, which is exactly what he does, without saying a word.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
"A little better, but still not good," Brian says, as he sniffles a little. "You don't use a cookbook?" Brian asks Mom suddenly as he notices her cooking without any cookbook in sight.
"No," Mom says, turning around to look at Brian. "I've been cooking so long, I don't need a book to tell me what to do."
"Dad uses a cookbook," he says.
"You cook?" Mom asks, me in shock.
"Well I'm trying," I say. "I don't think they'll be offering me a show on the Food Network anytime soon though. Uh angel?" I ask, Brian.
"No," he says, with a giggle.
My parents talk with Brian for a while as he sits on my lap, until the soup is ready. Brian mostly answers questions about school, hobbies that type of thing but it is still the most comfortable I have seen around Mom and Dad. After Brian has his bowl of soup he heads back to the couch and goes back to sleep. I help Mom clean up in the kitchen, before they get ready to leave.
"Thank you guys for coming today," I say. "I was worried about how I'd handle him being sick."
"You're very welcome," Mom says. "I think he might like me a little now."
"He never didn't like you," I say. "He's just shy."
"Well either way, I'm glad we were able to help," Mom says.
Before my parents leave they each give Brian a kiss on top of his head, but he doesn't wake up. After shutting the door behind my parents my cell phone rings. I quickly duck into my bedroom so the conversation won't wake up Brian.
"Hello," I say, without looking at the caller ID.
"Mr. Wasdin, long time no speak," I hear Julie Harden say on the other end.
"What do you want?" I ask.
"I'm just calling to check in," she says. "See how my charge is doing."
"You must have a memory problem," I say. "Don't you remember you were fired?" I ask angrily.
"Mr. Wasdin, I'd watch my tone if I were you," Julie says.
"Stop the bull shit," I say. "What are you trying to do? You have no say in where Brian ends up."
"Mr. Wasdin incase I haven't warned you already. You do not want to cross me. There are serious consequences for people who cross me."
"Do you have any idea how nuts you sound right now?" I ask angrily. "You have no pull, and you know it. Empty threats won't work with me."
"Empty threats?" Julie asks. "I assure you Mr. Wasdin my threats are not empty."
"Whatever," I say, not believing a word she is saying. "Look, if I hear you trying to convince anyone that I am not a fit parent, I'll hit you with a lawsuit so big it'll make your head spin. I am going to adopt Brian, and there is nothing, I mean nothing you can do about it."
"That's what you think," Julie says, before hanging up.
To Be Continued....
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Chapter 17 Coming Soon!