Date: Wed, 06 Nov 2002 18:01:47 +0000
From: Ganymede
Subject: Sixty-Nine Chapter 12

Sixty-Nine, by Ganymede


WARNING:


This story contains graphic descriptions of sexual
acts between a man and a MINOR boy. If you are under the age
of 18, if this material is illegal in your place of residence,
or if man-boy relationships aren't your thing, then
exit now and save yourself from a life of sin!



As a friend recently said: "Everyone has the right to
fantasy. No one has the right to censor an imagination, or
dreams." With that in mind, know that this story is not true!
Further, it is not intended to promote illegal acts against
minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can love each
other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It
is my goal to help readers appreciate that love. If the sub-
ject of man/boy love offends you, if this material is illegal
in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age
for such material, do not read further!

By downloading this story:

"... you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties
of perjury that you are not a minor or in the company of a
minor and are entitled to have access to material intended
for mature, responsible members of society capable of making
decisions about the content of documents they wish to
read...."

Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is
entirely accidental. The sexual acts described in the story
are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these
acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with
minors.

The story is copyrighted under the pseudonym, Ganymede.
A copy has been placed in the Nifty archives for your enjoy-
ment. The story cannot be used to derive monetary gain. The
story cannot be placed in archives that require payment for
access, or printed and distributed in any form that requires
payment either directly or indirectly. My sincere thanks to
two friends whose comments have been very helpful.



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Chapter 12.

In the end, it all came down to smiles. That was how I knew
that something had changed between us. We sat in our crummy rental
car for ten minutes exchanging nervous smiles like a couple of
southern boys who had too many relatives in common. They were
almost unconscious smiles, smiles that were all about secrets,
about something finally being shared! Somewhere along the way it
had become more than just two guys getting hard-ons and needing to
get off. Ty and I weren't just friends any more. Perhaps we had
never been `just friends'. Sure, I wanted to fuck him, but
already, I wanted our relationship to be more than just about sex.
It was a man-boy thing, no doubt about it, not after what had hap-
pened earlier, in Florida, on the beach, and later in the motel
room, but so far it was mostly innocent. And when things got out
of hand, when it was anything but innocent, it wasn't about me
seducing Ty, or Ty seducing me; it was mutual. It was easy to
believe that those times were the secrets we shared, but that was
too easy.

There had been lots of quick glimpses at each other since
we'd met, but the looks we shared in the car were different. I was
certain of that. Whenever Ty looked at me I could always tell
something was going through his mind, but now the corners of his
mouth twitched an instant before he smiled, and he blinked just
before his eyes broke contact. Each time I wanted to say some-
thing, but the words weren't there, so I kept glancing at him. It
was the same kind of momentary glance that I made in the rear
vision mirror when I was checking out traffic or watching for
cops. We were both spontaneously seeking acknowledgement, our
eyes meeting then suddenly darting away, pausing just long enough
to see each other's impulsive smiles. Not smirks, although God
only knows we both had more than our fair share to smirk about
with colorful tatoos and bald-crotches, but the sort of vague,
uncertain smile that left one wondering what the other person was
thinking. There was no getting past it, those smiles had a lot to
do with sex, but sex wasn't funny. Sometimes amusing, yes; funny,
no; at least not in my experience. The smiles I saw were not
smiles brought on because of something that was amusing. They were
smiles that hinted at our true feelings. Perhaps another secret
had been shared at last.

I knew why I was smiling. I was far beyond the `I have to
fuck you in order to stay alive' stage. I was in love. I felt it
inside, overwhelming my heart, filling my mind, and yes, if I have
to be honest, in the desperate longing between my legs. Being
around Ty meant being perpetually aroused. I had become a walking,
talking erection. I wasn't the only one to have an oversized bulge
in my pants, but that didn't help to explain why Ty smiling. Well,
it did and it didn't. It was nice knowing that I had that effect
on him, but I wanted it to be caused by something more than lust.
I wanted his constant sideways glances, those quirky all-too-
quick smiles, to be because something had changed between us.

The problem was that even if I could have found the courage
to ask Ty what he was feeling he probably could not have said. He
was still a kid. Ten-year-old boys simply can't know what real
love is about. He seemed nervous, as if afraid to speak. Indeed,
most of the way from the motel to the restaurant, he sat quietly
just sneaking his hurried peeks at me. Instead of trying to make
conversation, I tried to think back on what had happened in the
room. It kept me aroused, as hard as Detroit steel, but it didn't
help much otherwise. Perhaps it was less what we had done together
or something that had been said, than how it had been said. A tone
of voice, the way we looked at each other, seeing the person
within for the first time. Whatever it was, things were different
between us. It was confusing as hell. So we went on exchanging
sideways glances, sharing smiles, wondering what the other person
was thinking.

However, it was amusing, in its own way, watching from the
corner of my eye, sometimes waiting for Ty's head to move just a
fraction on an inch before I turned to look at him, more often
than not, turning myself even at the precise moment that his head
began to move. Yet, it was ever so much more than a game we could
play while listening to the only radio station in a hundred miles
that dared to play country and western. More than a few times our
glances lingered, delaying until it was dangerous to keep my eyes
off the road for so long. And there were other times when smiles
abruptly broadened into grins and we burst out laughing. If only
he would tell me what was going through his mind, but I wasn't
about to ask. Other than what was known only to the two of us, I
could think of nothing that was so amusing that he would keep
smiling at me all the way in the car. However, he did smile, non-
stop, from the time we left the motel to the time we arrived at
Cafe Jack.

After what had transpired in almost total silence during
the ten-minute drive, when we first saw that neon sign it seemed
entirely appropriate that Ty suddenly erupt in a fit of giggles. I
soon realized he was letting off steam, not having a fit. It took
a moment or two until the joke sank in. The name of restaurant,
much less the gaudy neon sign which was vaguely phallic, seemed at
least to have be chosen particularly for what it said. It was not
Cafe Jack's which would not have been funny in the slightest, but
in the singular non-possessive form, it could only mean what we
both wanted it to mean. I laughed too, if only because I thought
Heekin had been saying Cafe Jack's all along. Instead, it was Cafe
Jack. Jack! Jerk-off! Pull-the-meat! Plain old masturbation.
Something every male did on a regular basis if he had a grain of
sense. Ty instantly grabbed his compact crotch, and using his two
hands, made a few up and down motions on a make believe and very
much over-sized penis while he continued to smirk.

"We're really gonna eat at Cafe Jack?" he asked with mock
seriousness.

"Yeah, it sure looks that way."

"Man, Cafe Jack! Talk about stretchin' yer weenie," he gig-
gled.

"Something like that," I responded as seriously as I could.
There were times I needed to be a role model for him. This was
probably one of those times.

"How about pullin' yer prick or whacking the wonka?"

"Wonka?"

He grinned. "There's a kid from Australia I met at tha
speedway a while back. He called in wonkin', or somethin' like that."

"I think he was sayin' wank," I laughed.

"Man, I cain't believe we're eatin at Cafe Jack."

It was the third time in a minute he had said that name, yet
he still sounded incredulous, emphasizing `Jack' so loudly that
its hidden meaning was known to anyone within a hundred feet of
us. It was said so boldly that I had to answer with something
lewd.

"Yeah. I hear they got a sausage dish that's out of this
world."

"It probably comes with cream on it. Get it, Terry? It comes
with cream?"

He laughed so hard that he snorted, then had to gasp
between coughs until he cleared his windpipe and got his breath
back.

I tried to ignore him, but I couldn't help smiling.

"Cafe Jack," Ty finally managed to get out without bursting
into laughter. "Fuckin' hell, it's almost as bad as yer Team
Sixty-Nine."

"Ain't nuthin' wrong with tha team name, 'ceptin yer dirty
little mind."

"Sixty-nine,...." He went back to laughing. "Sure, it ain't
that bad, Terry. Sixty-nine. Man oh man! Ya oughta hear what some
people call it."

"Huh?"

"Team Blow-job, 'cause yer always gettin' blowed off by tha
other cars. Until tha last race that is."

"So who goes 'round callin' it that?" I demanded.

Ty shrugged, tapping his hands on the dashboard to the sound
of Alabama while we continued to wait at the world's slowest traf-
fic light.

"When I was waitin' fer ya at tha track, I heard a coupla
'em pit-babes sayin' it." He smirked, shamelessly grabbing his
crotch again, rubbing himself with narcissistic pleasure. "Man, I
couldn't believe what they was sayin'. They was talkin' 'bout
fuckin' and shit like that non-stop, but mostly 'bout gettin' it off
with ya."

"Yeah, right." I was cynical, but it was probably true.

"Ya could'a had either of 'em, Terry. 'specially after get-
tin' yer record lap time 'n all," Ty boasted. "Both of 'em was
blond, tha way ya like, but I reckon it was dyed like my mamaw's."

"Yeah, now just how do ya know that?"

"Easy, 'cause ya could see the roots was darker `n tha rest.
Geez! They was 'n dumber 'n shit too. Just yer type," he guffawed,
rolling around in his seat.

"Yeah, 'ssumin' I like babes," I remarked evenly. "I'm partial ta
blonds, but tha problem is even some dumb-ass dyed blond
might not do it fer me now."

Ty glanced out the window. He kept his face turned away like
he was bashful.

"But ya like me the way I am, don't ya? It ain't just tha hair right?
Anyway, it ain't like I dye my hair or somethin'." He hesitated.
"Ya know,  I thought about doin' it fer a while, 'cause Paul
done his, but there weren't no point in makin' it darker."

As he said it, quietly, his voice uncertain, I felt my heart
rate triple. Then without warning Ty turned and looked directly at
me. He raised his eyebrows. He wanted me to answer the question
with a `yes'. It was only for a second, perhaps two, then his eyes
lowered demurely. The bold boy was temporarily gone.

"Ain't that tha truth."

He laughed awkwardly.

"What's so funny?" I asked as we waited.

The traffic light had changed to green. Now we had to wait
for the four cars in front of us to decide to move forward. It was
obvious there weren't going to be any jack-rabbit starts. Like me,
the drivers were all hoping that a car would pull out in front of
them and provide the ideal parking spot. It was fast turning out
to be restaurant row.

Ty shrugged his answer. I let the matter drop and concen-
trated on finding somewhere to park.



Cafe Jack was not at all like what I expected, especially
given that Heekin had said it was casual. I had dressed accord-
ingly. Big mistake! It was on a par with going to the Nascar
Annual Manufacturers Awards Dinner without wearing a tuxedo.
Heekin's 'casual' definitely was not my 'casual'. However, if the
restaurant was a surprise to me, it must have been a shock to Ty,
for whom eating at Wendy's was a big step up from the local
McDonalds, or his all-too-frequent meals at the Waffle House
where his grandmother worked. First off, there was an abundance of
expensive cars parked in the street and lined up outside the res-
taurant. I bypassed the valet service, and not only because I did
not have the money to tip and the line was so long. I had worked
my way through the first year of college slaving as a valet at
Chez Paulette's in Atlanta so I knew first hand what happened to
the cars once their owners were out of sight. I remember putting
ten miles on a Ferrari odometer one night while its owner was in
the restaurant. He was probably thinking that his expensive red
sports car was sitting safely in a parking lot. I got it up to 120
m.p.h. in a 55 zone. It was probably the fastest it had ever gone.

I found a parking spot in the far corner of the parking lot
across the street. Priority was obviously given to valet parking
since large largely empty areas were cordoned off. There was a
street light nearby that offered some additional security. It was
worth taking advantage of even though our rental car was an early
model Ford Taurus from Rent-a-Dent, as Ty called it. It was defi-
nitely in need of cosmetic body work and a new coat of paint would
not have been wasted. That, even more than how I was dressed, left
me feeling out of place among the abundant highly polished Jags,
Beemers and Porsches. A Lexus would have looked tawdry among that
expensive line up of luxury vehicles.

By the time we reached the front door, it was apparent to
me, if not to Ty, that the restaurant was one of those socially
popular places where a reservation was essential, even during the
week. Through the front windows I saw that the atmosphere inside
was intimate, as was to be expected in a converted house. It
looked inviting, a big step up from the hole-in-the-wall diner
where we had eaten dinner the previous night. The service was
casually attentive, being almost amusing when the door was sud-
denly thrown open to welcome us even as we climbed the steps.
Pierce and Brandon arrived only a minute after us, leaving behind
a gun-metal grey Porsche Carrera 4 Cabriolet with a young Hispanic
valet who I would not have trusted to park my rental car. He
looked like he'd suck your dick for a dollar.

It was immediately obvious that Pierce Heekin was a fre-
quent customer at Cafe Jack because he was promptly greeted by a
man who he called Hector. Hector seemed to be in charge of every-
one else. They talked about nothing in particular and I exchanged
a wane smile with Ty. With luck, we could eat a quick dinner and
make a hasty escape back to our motel room to finish some unfin-
ished business. I could tell that he was slightly uncomfortable,
probably because he was the youngest person in the place, but he
looked sexy, almost too sexy if that was possible, standing there
next to me. Increasingly, it seemed, I was aware of an aura about
him. He radiated desirability with a hint of a smile, a flick of
his eyebrows, even a sideways glance. Ty Kincaid was all about sex
as far as I was concerned. I had reason to smile back at him. It
was amusing to remember what was underneath his clothes, in par-
ticular those temporary tattoos that decorated certain parts of
his body. That I had placed them there was a secret to be rel-
ished. I was looking forward to getting him back to the privacy of
our room and beginning the delightful process of rediscovery when
I undressed him.

Boys of Ty's age can often get away with things that if they
were just a few years older would be considered problematic. How-
ever, in that fancy restaurant any boy dressed in Ty's clothes
would have been considered under-dressed for the occasion. Com-
pared to Brandon who was attired in a white very-new-looking polo
shirt and knife-edge pressed khaki trousers, Ty was dressed with
casual flamboyance. He wore his rumpled Hawaiian print shirt that
gave a whole new meaning to colorful, and baggy board shorts that
came down to just below his knobby knees. No socks, but at least
he had sneakers on. From the way Hector glanced at both of us I
could see that he was visibly distressed that he would have one
customer whose attire was well south of inappropriate and another
customer who was only slightly better off. Distressed that is
until Ty gave him his 'shy boy' smile. It was a smile that was
very familiar to me, one that could melt the most resolute of
hearts. I was beginning to learn that a handsome boy who smiled in
just the right way could get away with murder.

"Terry?"

I dragged my eyes away from Ty and the lascivious thoughts
that pervaded my mind and turned to Heekin.

"I was just saying to Hector that we'd like to be seated
close to the windows. There's a very nice view of the beach from
the Pacific Room. It's in the back. However, apparently they're
very busy tonight. They do have a table coming available in a few
minutes, but if we wanted somewhere quieter we could always sit
outside. It's a bit on the warm side for most people, but he
assures me there's a nice breeze off the ocean."

"Fine by me," I answered. "I don't mind at all. The heat's
never bothered me."

A few minutes later we were seated on the side verandah and
being introduced to the menu by a young swarthy waiter. He was
another one of the `suck your dick for a dollar' variety, but he
was very knowledgeable, assuming one enjoyed being highly
informed about the food on the menu. My personal goal in dining is
to eat heartily, not to know the chef's philosophy on blending
sauces from obscure herbs. I made a half-hearted effort to listen
and then pretended to study the menu. It was California-style with
the usual seafood and pasta dishes, but there was a page of spe-
cials that were anything but ordinary. Since Heekin was paying the
bill, I selected the roast wild boar shank at a nickel under eigh-
teen dollars. Cheap, but I figured that was because it was on the
special's page. Other things were more expensive, some a lot more
expensive, but it sounded like fun. It came out quickly after the
soup and tasted somewhat like pork, which was only to be expected
I suppose because boar and pork are still pig, but it was deli-
cious. I even managed to convince Ty to try some in exchange for
two spoonfuls of his pasta. His kid's menu dinner was much better
than I expected, certainly better than the greasy hamburgers of
the night before. It amused me to think that he could eat as much
as he wanted for one quarter of the cost of my dinner.

About half way through the main course and an ongoing dis-
cussion about how to modify a kart's braking system and stay
within the rules, Pierce put his knife and fork down. He waited
until he had my undivided attention. I wondered what he had to say
that was so important. With Ty and Brandon engaged in an inspired
debate about which were the best brakes in the world, it was dif-
ficult to pay attention. I had to smile to myself whenever Ty
argued that `hands down, Brembo is the best'. I was certain that
he believed that I was responsible for the company's entire brak-
ing system, not just a few pressure-compensating valves as had
been the subject of my misappropriated patent.

"I called Charley Keane earlier, and believe it or not, I
have to tell you it's good news all around," Pierce suddenly
announced. Whenever he spoke it was usually with a pontiff's
authority. This time was no different. Pierce gave a new meaning
to `pontificate'.

"Who's he?" I asked, my mouth still working on some sauteed
vegetables, my ears still tuned to the more interesting, ongoing
conversation next to me. Ty was making some good points. Brandon
too. Both boys certainly knew their cars. I could talk with Ty for
hours and still be surprised at how much he knew.

"Charley's the president of American Foods," Pierce
explained in a haughty voice that suggested that anyone and every-
one should know who Charles Keane was.

"Okay?"

Ty nudged me under the grey-teak table, although I had no
idea why he did so. He was still chattering about how Brembo
brakes were installed on most of the world's fastest cars.

"I told him about my idea for Cereals."

"What idea?" I asked without a lot of interest.

I hoped he was not going to say that he had found the ideal
boy for the All-American role. It would be enough to spoil dinner.
I was getting tired of hearing it. Not that I wanted to stand in
Ty's way, because I didn't, or that I thought he was not the ideal
All-American boy, because he was. Simply, I did not want to raise
his hopes. His future after the summer was something I preferred
not to dwell on. The idea of him living with his grandmother in
that dismal trailer was bleak enough as it was.

"My idea, well,... to be honest it was Ty's idea actu-
ally,... about us sponsoring '69'. Of course, I could hardly tell
Charley it was a ten-year-old boy's idea," he explained. "Anyway,
I called him because it's a radical change for AFC and I wanted to
get Charley's input before it went too far. He likes to be kept in
the loop. The thing is, Terry, he went for it. He loved all of
it."

He sat back and interlocked his fingers, shaking both hands
several times. It was as if he was making a deal with himself, or
worse, congratulating himself.

"Terry, you can believe me when I say, that was a shock!"
Heekin grinned broadly, released his hands and slapped the table
abruptly to drive the point home. The entire process looked ridic-
ulous.

"Anyway, Charley's keen, so keen he wants me to sign you up
right away. The fact is, the whole thing took me rather by sur-
prise, you understand Terry. Here I was thinking it would be a
hard sell, and Charley jumps at the idea almost before the words
are out of my mouth. See, what I didn't realize is he's a Nascar
fan. Can you believe that? Charley Keane watching Nascar every
Sunday afternoon?" He laughed that belly-laugh of his. The
glasses on the table actually rattled.

"I'm sorry, but I don't get it Pierce," I answered when the
vibration ended.

"See, he knew all about you, Terry. He'd even watched the
race last weekend. By the way, I need to get a tape of that to
show the Board when we go for the presentation next week. You
wouldn't have one, would you?"

I shook my head. It was difficult to concentrate. I could
hear Brandon bragging to Ty about how great the brakes were on
Pierce's Porsche, Ty replying that they were `probably Brembo',
that Brembo brakes were `definitely, absolutely, positively the
best brakes in the whole world'.

"The thing is, and this is important, Charley's very
excited, Terry. He even made something of a joke about how it will
change the way the company does business in the future. Charley
almost never makes jokes. He's probably the most serious person I
know. He's very clear about what he wants and he always gets what
he wants," Pierce continued as if he had not heard me.

"Huh?"

I wanted to tell Ty and Brandon to be quiet so I could hear
what Pierce was saying. So far, the conversation about venting
brake rotors by cross-drilling or using slots was far more inter-
esting. The best approach was a combination of the two. I wondered
if Ty knew about Brembo's Gran Turismo system. It was based on
two-piece aluminium hats that were brought together to create a
so-called `floating disk'? It could stop a car in a heart beat.

"He wants you on the team immediately, Terry,... and Ty too
by the way. Incidentally, I told him about Ty as being the possi-
ble all-American boy. He loved my idea of bringing the two pro-
grams together. Comprehensive marketing is the way to go
nowadays. The Nascar dad and the kart kid, he called it. The point
it, you're both on the team!"

"Huh? What team?"

"American Foods, of course,..."

"Pierce, I'm sorry, but...."

Pierce suddenly stopped speaking and put his arm around
Brandon. "Listen guys, I know you're having fun talking cars, but
could you give us a few minutes of peace and quiet. I can't hear a
word of what Terry's saying."

Ty and Brandon exchanged a glance, effectively chastened
for the moment. Brandon leaned closer to Ty and whispered some-
thing that only the other boy could hear. Ty nodded. His hand
crept onto mine and stayed there.

Heekin smiled. "Thanks guys. Now, where was I? Okay. Now, I
know I'm jumping to conclusions, but,... Okay. Here's the deal
we're offering, Terry. I warned Charley that you're probably
doing better already, but he said to go ahead and see if you were
interested. How does three years for five million a year sound?
Guaranteed, by the way. The contracts keeps going even if the mar-
keting program is wound done before then. You can pretty much call
the shots as to how you spend the money. However, there is one
thing Charley insisted on. We want sole rights, that's to both of
you by the way. No other sponsorship. None, not even a decal for
the oil you use. That means you'll have to get rid of any sponsors
you already have. I realize it's unusual but that's the way AFC
works. It's all or nothing for us. We don't want other companies
taking advantage of the money we spend."

"Um,..."

It was too good to be true so I didn't believe him. It did
not make a grain of sense. I sounded like a joke that was being
made at my expense.Sponsors didn't just fall out of the sky. They
took months, sometimes years of wooing before they signed one-
year contracts. Still, I wondered whether I should tell him that
other sponsors were not going to be a problem. The truth was that
I got free oil and a few engine parts from the decals already on
the car. Net value, maybe a few thousand dollars. It was impossi-
ble for this to be happening, not without going to a dozen meet-
ings with corporate executives. Yet, the way Heekin sounded, so
authoritatively matter-of-fact, made me wonder whether it was
really happening. He was offering me sponsorship, the kind of
relationship that came along once in a driver's life. Instead of
agreeing on the spot, I stalled for time.

"I'll have to think about it," I said awkwardly.

"Terry,..." Ty murmured.

I glanced at Ty. He nodded, urgently signaling with his
eyes. His hand was clasping mine, squeezing.

"Three years at five million?" I repeated. I had to say
something.

I tried to keep calm. It was as good a contract as any team
could expect, better than most of the front runners given that
three years were involved. The top teams were making more money
but they usually had one year contracts with performance expecta-
tions. It was do or die, and some of them did. Nascar officials
did not like to admit the intense pressure that was being placed
on drivers.

"Like I said, Terry my man, there are no strings," Pierce
went on selling. "We'll pay each year up front as a lump sum to
use however you wish. All that's required is you work with us for
marketing purposes, and of course we'll try to work around your
schedule, particularly during the racing season or when Ty's in
school. How do you handle that, by the way? Does he stay with his
mom when you're travelling?"

He did not wait for me to answer. He had a quick drink of
wine, a good Californian red from Sonoma. It was the second bottle
and already it was near to the bottom. I would rather have had
beer but he ordered it for both of us, or at least with the expec-
tation that I join him. He wiped his lips and went back to his
speech.

"This is a great opportunity for us and you, Terry. We're
going to change the way that AFC does business. This is going to
be one hell of a campaign once things get into full swing. I want
to have both of you to meet up with Charley as soon as possible.
He wants me to get your contracts sighed by the end of the week.
It's going to be rush, rush, rush for a while at least." He
stopped to breath. "With luck we can probably arrange a photo-
shoot for Ty while you're here in California."

"Huh?" Ty queried when he heard his name mentioned again.

Pierce swilled the wine around the bottom of his glass as if
contemplating the fate of the human race. He placed it back on the
table.

"Okay. The thing is we're going to launch 'Crunchy Go'
first, Ty. It'll feature you, of course, because it's set up for
the All-American program."

The look on Ty's face was priceless. Sheer absolute confu-
sion.

"I don't see how I come into it?" he asked quietly.

"Well, for one thing we'll put your face on the front of the
Crunchy Go box with a slogan. Um, how about,... 'America's kart-
kid, calorific, terrific, extra-ific!'. How about that Ty? And on
the surfing ones we could use,... hm,... Okay, I know. We'll use
'Pacific surf-kid' instead of 'America's kart-kid'. This is going
to be one hell of a campaign."

"Ah, yeah, that'd be cool," Ty replied uncertainly. "What's
calorific mean?"

"Of course, we're going to want some photos of Ty by himself
right away so that we can start putting the packaging together
while you're back in Asheville," he explained to me.

"What's Crunchy Go?" Ty asked.

"It's our new cereal. You'll love it. It's being targeted to
active kids, although we expect boys aged between six and twelve
to be 85 percent of the market. It's not only fiber-rich but it
provides one hundred percent of their USDA vitamin needs and 50
percent of the protein, and that's without including milk. Our
research shows that active kids eat cereal throughout the day, not
just at breakfast. It's a basic snack food for active kids. That's
especially true for boys. Hence, the All-American boy approach."

Ty's expression changed slightly, less confused, more
strained. He was having difficulty with the concept.

"Will it be sugary? I hate cereal that tastes too sweet."

"Well, there is some sugar in it," Pierce admitted. "The
research with our focus groups shows that 85 percent of the target
market will like it a lot."

"Do I have to eat it?"

Pierce laughed so loudly that I was glad we were seated on
the verandah. Other than another table at the far end, we were
alone.

"No, you won't have to eat it, except when we shoot the com-
mercials that is. This is very special cereal, Ty. It's been
developed especially for boys in your age cohort. We've spent mil-
lions of dollars on its development. It's even got a unique color,
we call it `zap'. It's almost the same color as an orange because
it's associated with energy and good health."

"Does it have like a special shape or something?" Ty asked
seriously.

"Shape?"

"Yeah, you know like little `x's and `o's?" Ty grinned.

"Well, it's going to be a snack food as much as a breakfast
cereal, so we had to use a shape that was easy to hold in the fin-
gers. It's mostly round, just slightly squashed so it's easier to
pick up."

"It better not be too squashed otherwise kids are going to
think it looks like dog food," Ty said seriously. "You oughta use
something like little sixes and nines,... you know, for sixty-
nine."

Brandon nodded eagerly even though he was grinning from ear
to ear. "He's right. I told you the stuff looks like rabbit poop."

Ty burst out laughing. When he finally managed to stop he
said, "I don't want my face on boxes of rabbit poop."

That set both boys to laughing again. Me too.

"It's nothing like rabbit poop," Pierce said seriously.
"When have you ever seen orange rabbit poop? Anyway, you said you
liked how it tasted, Brando," he countered.

"I did It does taste great. I was just agreeing with Ty.
Kids that age want a fun shape."

"Yeah, see you gotta get us interested," Ty said, adding his
two-cents' worth. "Maybe even put something in the box besides
cereal." He stopped, smirking at me. "How about like some of
them,... I mean those transfer tatoos. Kids my age love them."

It was all I could do not to laugh out loud at the idea of
boys across the country plastering their bodies with temporary
tatoos. Boys being boys, would soon put them in places where they
would seldom be seen.

"So you want us just for this Crunchy Go stuff?" I finally
asked, trying to divert Ty from doing more damage to Pierce's mar-
keting program.

"No, Terry, not at all. But it started out like that. See,
Charley liked the idea so much we're going to expand the new
approach to most of our cereal line. That's where you fit in
Terry."

"How? Am I doing the geriatric market?"

Pierce laughed again. It was almost embarrassing sitting at
the same table. Brandon sank an inch lower in his seat. Ty's thigh
pressed against mine. His fingers had worked their way into the
gaps between my fingers, squirming back and forth, rubbing
against my knuckles. It was hot, slightly sweaty, a bit like two
hands having sex.

"No, but it's a great idea. I ought to write it down before
I forget. Hm,... You know,... maybe,... it isn't a bad idea at
all. In fact, it's a damn good idea. I think I've got it!" he
almost shouted.

"Yes?" I prompted uncertainly.

"We can use you just like we're using Ty for the Crunchy-Go
line. We have this new product being developed for the active-
adult market only we don't have a name for it yet. It's targeted
to the same market as that Product 19 stuff. Don't get me wrong,
19's a good concept, but just don't put it near a magnet. It's got
more iron in it than a,...."

"A Detroit V-8," I suggested.

Pierce laughed until the windows rattled. "That's what
makes you ideal! See, I'm thinking we call our new cereal '69'."

Both Ty and Brandon looked up at hearing the magic number.
Ty giggled first. Then, Brandon. Then, they both started to laugh.
Pierce looked from one boy to the other, then at me. The joke sank
in slowly.

"Maybe 69 isn't the right name," he said as seriously as he
could manage under the circumstances. He cleared his throat.
"Anyway, my point is that we're using you and Ty as today's image
of healthy living, two people constantly on the go, leading excit-
ing lives. Let's face it, you can't get anything more exciting
than driving at Nascar."

"Probably not," I agreed.

"We're going to keep the two of you very busy. Once this
gets underway, you might need to think about getting a private
tutor for him, Terry."

I nodded, wondering why Ty would need a tutor during the
summer when he was out of school. There was only one reason I
could come up with and that did not make a lot of sense. Before I
had a chance to think it all the way through, my thoughts were
interrupted.

"Um, there is one small thing, Terry," Heekin said with
deliberate vagueness.

"What's that?"

"It isn't a big deal."

"Okay?" I prompted.

"He, um,... well,..."

"Get to the point, Pierce."

Pierce smiled, but I could tell that he did not like to be
rushed. "Okay,... It's the hair. Ty's hair to be precise. It might
have to be, er,...um, re-styled for the photo shoot."

"Meaning what, exactly?" I asked on Ty's behalf.

"The tail thing. It might have to go," Pierce explained
blandly. "The image we're after,... well it's All-American you
see."

"And a rat tail is not All-American?" I asked sarcasti-
cally.

"Duh! It's called a rat's tail, Terry," Ty interjected.
"It's not some kind of metal file."

"It isn't that, Terry," Pierce countered defensively. "It's
all about fashion, Terry. Boys nowadays,... well, style is impor-
tant to them. They have to be able to relate to the model."

"It's who I am," Ty interjected. "You can take,... or leave
it."

"Sounds good to me," I added supportively.

"Listen guys," Pierce began. He smiled. "Somehow, I knew it
would be a problem. What's it going to take?"

"Nothing yer've got," Ty answered abruptly. He took a quick
breath, gulping air. "I ain't fuckin' cuttin' it off. Fuck! I
started growin' it `cause,..." He glanced at me. His tone soft-
ened, his words mollified. "Okay, don't say it Terry. I'm sorry.
Just so you know, I'm not going to cut it off any time soon, Mr.
Heekin," he said with forced patience.

"It's not that big a deal, Ty," Brandon said supportively.
"I think you'll look really cool with your hair styled."

"Lighten up, Ace," I said calmly.

"Terry, if ya,... if you tell me I have to, I will, okay?
But please, don't ask me to."

"I'm not telling you to do anything, Ace," I interrupted. I
glared at the man across the table. "It's important to him,
Pierce. You said you wanted a rough and tumble All-American boy,
not some dopey kid who has nothing going for him except looking
pretty. Ty's what my mother used to call a diamond in the rough.
He's a bit ragged on the edges, but he's 100 percent proof b-o-y."

Pierce nodded thoughtfully. "You're making this very diffi-
cult," he said. "I agree it does say something about him that's
important. I can probably work with it. Hm,... '100 percent proof
boy'. That is what you said, isn't it? We can't use 'proof', of
course. Hm,... but 100 percent pure boy? That works for me. If it
gets to be a problem with the focus groups we can always take the
extra hair out using a computer I suppose."

"What are you talking about?"

"A slogan, of course. We spend most of the day thinking up
slogans. There was so few good ones in the cereal business. Well?
Do we have a deal, Terry?" Pierce asked abruptly.

"Terry,..." Ty prompted. He nodded again, urging me to
agree now that it seemed his rat's tail could stay.

"It's not bad, Pierce," I said, stalling, trying to think it
through. I had not expected an offer like that even when I was
meeting with other companies. The best I had ever hoped for was a
million dollars a year, and the chance of that happening was
miniscule at best given my prior experiences.

"Terry,...." Ty's voice sounded stressed.

"Not bad at all," I repeated quietly. A long time ago I had
learned never to take the first deal that was offered. I held my
breath and waited.

"I told Charley it wouldn't be enough to get you on the
team," Pierce complained. He sighed. "Damn! Okay, the bottom line
is this. I'll have to find the money from some other budget I sup-
pose." He took a deep breath. There were beads of sweat on his
forehead. "This is the best we can do. Six million for the first
year, eight the next, and ten in the third year. How does that
sound, Terry?" He sounded nervous, like his job was on the line.

"It sounds a lot better than five million every year," I
quipped.

Ty groaned beside me. "Jesus, Terry, say 'yes' you fuckin'
idiot."

"Yes, you fuckin' idiot."

Luckily, Pierce laughed. So did Brandon. Ty rolled his eyes
and shook his head in exasperation. So much for our exchange of
promises to be careful of how we spoke. Ty was entirely correct in
that what we said was important to how we were perceived, but sud-
denly I was beyond caring. I had what I wanted and it was sitting
in the seat next to me. Getting a sponsor was merely icing on the
cake.

"Sorry," I began apologetically. "It was just too good to
miss. See, the reason why he's tagging along is that he's my good
luck charm, Pierce," I said, smiling fondly at Ty. I was head-
over-heels in love with him and he had no idea. "So I have to do
whatever he says."

"But you said 'yes', right? So we have a deal, Terry? I can
tell our lawyers to start drafting the contracts?" His nervous-
ness had changed to excitement.

"Yes, we have a deal, Pierce," I confirmed, suddenly embo-
ldened. My heart was pounding like it did during the final lap of
a race. It had all but burst during my last race. "Assuming the
contract your lawyers put together uses the standard terms for
Nascar sponsorship," I added hastily.

"Of course. And you'll sign for Ty?"

"Huh? Sign what?"

"I'm talking about Ty's contract?"

"What about Ty's contract? Why does he need a contract?"

"We'll need a separate contract for Ty, Terry. It's stan-
dard practice in the industry. He's a minor so you'll have to sign
that too, of course. However, with the terms we've agreed on it'll
have to be included in the same price."

"Um, well,... see, I don't know about that," I muttered. I
was not the worrying kind by nature, but suddenly I was worried.
"Can't he sign for himself?" I blurted out.

"Kids can't sign, not and have a binding contract," Pierce
said abruptly. "In this state it takes a parent or legal guardian
to do that, at least until he's eighteen. We have a fairly stan-
dard contract we use that covers all the legal issues."

"Um,..." I felt Ty squirming beside me. His hand had
departed, leaving my fingers feeling lonely.

"I don't see why it would be a problem," Pierce said.
"You're his father, Terry. It probably won't be a problem, but
even if his mother was to get involved, she would have a difficult
time showing the court that it would not be in his best interest,
especially if you opened a trust fund for him. I don't what his
share would be, but a couple of hundred thousand a year would be a
good start I imagine."

"Huh?"

"I assume you're divorced. You are, aren't you?"

"I've never been married," I replied hastily.

"But he's got your last name," Pierce pointed out.

"Um, well,... er,.... It's not quite like that."

"Is there a problem?" Pierce asked suddenly.

His eyes were suspicious, like Bobbie's were when I told him
about how I had first met Ty a few miles outside Daytona. He
didn't believe me. I still found it hard to believe myself, flirt-
ing with a kid who thought I was weird, or worse. Boys had always
gotten my attention, but that ragged bratty kid at the gas station
was the first boy I'd seen who I wanted to jump on top of and fuck
until I was too exhausted to move. He still has that effect,
although I was well past the `lust-stage'. I smiled, suddenly
realizing what that meant. Damn, but I loved Tyler Kincaid.

Heekin glanced around, even looking behind him. No one was
within hearing distance, not unless we raised our voices. The
waiter was back inside the restaurant and the people at the other
table were busily engaged in eating dessert.

"I was wondering why he called you Terry. You do hear kids
calling their parents by their first names, but it isn't very
often."

"Um, see,... My last name isn't Atkins," Ty admitted
softly. He looked guilty with his eyes downcast. No one said any-
thing for a few moments. "It's Kincaid, Mr. Heekin."

"So, you took your mom's name. It doesn't matter. Your dad
can still sign a contract for you, Ty."

"It does matter, Pierce. It matters a whole lot," I breathed
out. "See, it's like this,... Ty,... well, the thing is, he's not
my son."

"He's not? You're his uncle?"

"No, we're not related," I said simply and hoped it would
end there.

"Then, I don't understand, Terry. I was right next to you
when you told Shaw that he's your son."

"Only to get him on the track," I interjected hastily, "and
actually I didn't even say that. Shaw did. I just didn't correct
him."

"Then, I really don't understand what in the hell is going
on? Why is he travelling with you?"

"See, Mr. Heekin, it's like this.... Um,... Terry kind of
adopted me for the summer," Ty explained nervously.

"He what? What does kind of adopted mean?"

"He,... um. It's like this see. Terry and me met outside
Daytona, see, and so then I went to the speedway,... well,... see
we liked each other,... and so I watched him race. That's when he
did great,... and well,... see we became friends afterwards....
More than friends I guess,... sort of like well, it's hard to
explain,... and well, my mamaw said it was okay if I spent the
summer with him,... 'cause she don't want me around,..." he added
awkwardly.

Ty glanced at me for support. I shrugged. The deal was about
to collapse. There was nothing for it. Pierce wanted both of us
for the sponsorship to work.

"Pierce?" I said hesitantly.

It was a huge risk, but one that I had to take. I had
watched them together. Sure they were uncle and nephew, but per-
haps their relationship was more than that. I could only hope. I
licked my parched lips.

"Yes?" He turned to me, glowering.

"Ty and me,... um,... It's like this, Pierce. I like havin'
him around, okay? Anyway we told his granny that he brought the
team good luck, which he does, but,..." I took a deep breath.

"And?" Heekin prompted. He was relentless, like my mother
had been when she thought I had stolen money from her purse. I
hadn't, but I was still guilty.

"Okay, so it's more than him bringing us good luck, but it's
partly that."

"What does that mean."

"Fact is,... well,... This is hard to explain."

"So try."

"Okay. The thing is we got,... we got feelings fer each
other, Pierce," I explained.

"Feelings?" Pierce repeated, nodding slowly. "Would you
care to elaborate on what those feelings might be?"

Brandon looked at Ty for a few seconds and seemed to smile
slightly. Perhaps it was just my imagination. Pierce was not smil-
ing. His expression was downright sour.

"Well, they're special feelings, I guess ya could say."

"That's helpful."

I winced. His tone was sarcastic. Brandon settled back in
his seat, both hands on the table. He had long thin very-clean
fingers like a musician. Ty's hands were ingrained with grease and
oil, and had the scars to prove they had seen hard work.

"Okay, the thing is,... I'm ah,... I guess you could say
we're more than friends. I'm getting to be pretty darn fond of
him."

It was more than I had intended to say, but there was no
choice. Pierce stared at me, waiting for me to elaborate. I could
feel Ty becoming tense. I was tense. Other than the sound of the
ocean breaking on the distant beach, it was quiet enough to hear a
pin drop. The people at the other table had gone.

Heekin closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "God damn!
I don't believe I'm hearing this," he hissed. "What you're telling
me is that you're a pedophile, Atkins."

"No!"

"I know your type, forcing poor kids to have sex with you or
taking advantage of them because they don't know better. I should
have guessed when you went off behind the sand hills today. You're
one sick bastard. I convinced myself you went for a walk, but you
were screwing around with him, aren't you?"

"It ain't like that," I retorted. I almost said that Ty was
as eager as I was when we had sex.

"You're going to try to tell me it's purely platonic, I sup-
pose?" Sarcasm was increasingly evident in his tone. His eyes had
narrowed. He glared at me.

"Platonic?" I asked innocently.

Heekin snorted. "You're a pervert, Atkins. I suppose you're
going to tell me you haven't had sex with him?"

"No."

"No? Meaning what exactly? That you haven't had sex with him
or you aren't going to tell me?"

"Jesus! It's none of your damned business." I shifted in my
seat uncomfortably. I could not believe this was happening.

"You're so wrong, Atkins! Child abuse is everyone's busi-
ness."

"Child abuse?" I asked nervously.

"That's what it's called! There are signs, you know. Once a
doctor takes a look at him they'll find out whether you've been
abusing the poor kid. Those doctors know what to look for."

"I,.... God!"

I glanced at Ty. His head hung down, realizing that part of
what was happening was as much his fault as mine. We had both been
wrong about Pierce Heekin and his nephew. Watching them on the
beach had convinced me that their relationship was something more
than it was supposed to be. We had seen them being affectionate,
but that was all. We had assumed more than that, but there was no
basis for our assumption.

"I'm going to report you to the police, Atkins. You're a
depraved monster! I don't know what the laws are like where you're
from, but here in California child abuse is about as bad as it
gets. You'll be lucky if all you get is a life sentence."

"Jesus!" I groaned.

I tried to shake my head. I did not realize that all along
Heekin's voice was barely more than a whisper. Ty was deathly
pale. Brandon was sitting back, his hands still on the table in
front of him.

"You know what we've got sitting here, sitting at this
table, Brandon?" Heekin continued unabated. His voice was filled
with disgust.

"No, what?"

Heekin looked from me to Ty, then he turned and looked
quickly over his shoulder before he answered. His eyes were dark,
threatening. I could see the hatred, the loathing that he had for
me.

"A sick, sick man. He takes advantage of innocent little
boys by pretending to be their friend and then he hurts them."

I shook my head in denial. It was undeniable and true. I had
taken advantage of Ty Kincaid. I had almost managed to convince
myself that it was mutual.

"How?" Brandon asked curiously.

"Why don't you tell Brandon the disgusting things that you
do to Ty, Terry?" Heekin asked cruelly.

I shrugged and swallowed. I wondered whether I should get
and leave.

"How about you, Ty?" Heekin asked slyly. "You want to tell
Brandon about you and Terry."

"There ain't nuthin' ta tell, ass-hole," Ty said angrily,
spitting the words out.

"Terry likes to have sex with you, doesn't he?" Heekin
jeered. Suddenly, he shook his head and stopped.

The door to the restaurant opened and two busboys came out
to clear the other table. We waited in silence. My heart was
pounding. I wondered if I should caution Ty not to answer, but to
do so would have drawn even more attention. Uppermost in my mind
was the thought that Heekin had no proof. There were no signs of
sex for the doctors to find. We hadn't done anything that left
signs. So far it was his word against mine. I had not admitted to
having sex with Ty, merely that I was fond of him. There was no
law against a man liking a boy, even spending the summer with him.
And then I remembered the tattoos. The fucking evidence was all
over him. Normal men didn't put obscene tattoos on a boy's body.
The busboys disappeared back inside the restaurant, leaving us
alone again.

"Fuck you! It ain't like that!" Ty said vehemently.

"Of course, you're going to say that, Ty. But the doctors
will find the bruises on your butt, boy. They'll know what you've
been doing with him," Heekin said with distaste

"There ain't nuthin' on my butt. He never done it `n I ain't
like that!"

Ty's face was red. His hands by his sides were clenched
tightly. I had never seen him so upset. In fact, I had never seen
him upset, period.

"Really? You know they can even swab your mouth to find out
if there's semen in it. I bet you didn't know that did you, Terry?
Every time you get off in his mouth, you're leaving evidence!"

"Fuck you!" I cursed. "Come on, Ty we're gettin' outta this
dump."

"You haven't had dessert yet. Or maybe you have? I'm still
wondering what you got up to when you and Ty went off behind the
dunes. Maybe a little afternoon snack of boy-dick?"

"Yeah,..." Brandon smirked knowingly at Ty, whose face was
red enough for both of us. I wanted to hit him.

Then, Pierce gave that famous belly laugh. He leaned across
the table, touching his fingertip to his lips several times.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I gave you guys hell, but I had to. I
hope you got the point. Both of you!"

"What point?" I muttered. My heart was still bouncing
around in my chest. It was impossible to think straight.

"See, it's like this. I already figured you guys were close
to each other. The thing is,... so are we, so there!" He grinned,
strangely reassuringly under the circumstances.

"Okay?"

"You and Mr. Heekin?" Ty murmured to Brandon, who smiled.
"But he's your uncle?"

"So? What difference does that make?"

"None I guess," Ty said uncertainly.

He toyed with the empty glass before him. It had been some
time since the waiter had visited the table. Service on the veran-
dah apparently left a lot to be desired.

"You have to be more careful," Heekin said sternly. "I hope
you realize that man-boy stuff is as risky as hell. People know
what to look for nowadays." He shook his head and sighed. "I don't
mean to lecture, but what just happened was god-damn stupid. You
could have ruined your life, Terry. Ty's too, for that matter.
Maybe the risk is worth it, but you don't have to make it worse!
The point is, you have to be careful. Very careful. Both of you!
Ty, you can't go around telling people that Terry kind of adopted
you. It raises too many questions. And you, Terry. Jesus! You of
all people should have more sense!"

"But we thought,..." Ty began nervously. "I mean, well, you
and Brandon were,..."

"You assumed we were gay! That's dumb, Ty. You saw nothing
that proved we were."

He glanced around again, continually checking that we were
alone. He shook his head again, this time directed at me.

"For God's sake, Terry, don't ever tell some one that you
have special feelings for Ty. He's a friend's son or a relative,
but that's all. Get a story that works for you and keep it!"

My mouth dropped open. I stared at Pierce. I could feel Ty's
continuing nervousness beside me. He had moved from his glass to
playing with his fork. He picked it up, balancing it on one fin-
ger, then dropped it onto the table with a loud clatter.

Pierce casually placed his arm around Brandon and smiled at
me. It was an unmistakable look, a look that conveyed ownership,
belonging, a lot of affection, and the sense that there was far
more to their relationship than uncle and nephew. It was all about
love. I felt envious of the way that Brandon looked back at him.
Then, Pierce's arm quickly withdrew.

"The thing is that I knew you were suspicious about us,"
Heekin admitted with an air of superiority. "I'm not surprised.
We're always giving out signals, although we try not to. I think
it goes with the territory, but it still takes one to know one, if
you know what I mean. For me it's a lot about how we look at
boys."

"Yeah?"

There was guilt in my voice. I had gone through a lifetime
of looking at boys. I had boy-eyes. It had been like that ever
since I first laid eyes on Gordon Jeffries. I could seek out the
good-looking boys in any crowd. Sometimes, I could even spot them
in the grandstands.

"I noticed how you kept touching him in public. trust me,
Terry, that's a sure giveaway. You want to go to jail, just keep
on doing it."

"But,..." I fell silent.

He was 100 percent right. I touched Ty a lot, in a couple of
days a lot more than my father had ever touched me during the
years I was growing up.

"Actually, Brando spotted you first. When you were looking
at him in the change room this morning, Terry." Pierce smiled
knowingly. "He said you were trying to play eye games with him. It
was a clear sign that you were at least interested in boys. So I
kept an eye on you."

"Oh?"

Ty smirked gleefully. "See, I told you, Terry," he said
emphatically. "I said you were perving on him."

Heekin nodded. "Of course, I was pretty sure you two were
close when I saw you with him at the track today. For a while I
started having second thoughts, particularly when you were reluc-
tant to talk about boys at the beach, I almost gave up hope."

"Then you guys went off by yourselves for a whole," Brandon
interjected.

His wide blue eyes looked as innocent as Ty's. What was it
about blue eyes that made a boy appear like butter wouldn't melt
in his mouth? Only his knowing smirk said otherwise.

"Well, we won't go there," Pierce chided. "We even thought
about following the two of you into the dunes, just to make
sure... "

He smiled wryly, not finishing the sentence. Suddenly, I
found myself wondering whether we had been followed. It would not
have been difficult. There were tracks in the sand to show the
way.

"By then it was starting to look like Brandon was right all
along," Heekin acknowledged.

Brandon grinned at us. "I bet him a new kart-skirt that you
guys were into the man-boy thing as well."

I nodded. It was difficult to appreciate that what I had
been so careful to conceal was so obvious to them. They had all
but told us they had spied on us from behind the sand hills. Ty
standing there, me kneeling down in front of him, taking his boy-
sex deep into my mouth. Strangely, I thought I could still taste
him, that incredible sweet taste of a young boy's dick. I smiled
at the memory. Maybe they had watched, maybe they had not. There
was no way of knowing except to come right out and ask them. I was
not about to do that, at least not yet.

"Yeah, well it looks like you gotta pay up, Pierce. Just
make sure it's one of them carbon fiber ones, Brandon," I added
with a humble chuckle.

"Okay, now that's out in the open we can get down to having
some fun," Pierce grinned. "However, there's one thing that I
still don't understand."

What's that?"

"What he's doing with you now if you met him at Daytona? And
don't give me some tale about his grandmother letting him go with
you for the summer because he's good luck for the team. That only
happens in fantasies. Did he run away from home or something?
That's serious stuff, Terry. You could even be charged with kid-
napping, let alone if the cops pick him up,... And if you've been
messing around with him, well, let's not get into that."

"No! Nothing like that. Actually, it's true, Pierce. His
grandmother gave me a paper saying I was his guardian for the sum-
mer. One of the neighbors even witnessed it. I've got it back in
our motel room."

"Fat lot of good that will do you. It might help to keep the
cops off your back, but that's all."

"Couldn't I use it to sign the contract for him?" I asked
hopefully.

"Even if it was legal there's no way you could sign a three-
year contract for him." Pierce smirked conversantly. "So the big
question that I'm dying to know the answer to is, does his granny
have any idea what you're up to with him?"

I shrugged. I had given some thought to that question
already. I had no way of being certain why she had agreed to let-
ting her grandson travel with me for the summer. It was clear that
she suspected something else was going on between us. Equally
clear, she really didn't give a damn what happened to him. Ty said
she was a bitch and she wanted to be rid of him for the summer.

"I think so. Some of the things she said,... well there were
some comments she made about him being with me. I'm fairly sure
she knows he's sexually active."

"Ha! So you and Ty are having sex?"

"Um,... well,..." I was not going to answer that, not after
the nightmare that we'd just been through.

"I can't believe this. We come down here for a couple of
days of karting, but mostly to get away from Brandon's mom and
have some fun, and we run into you guys within a few minutes of
arriving. Not only are you perfect for AFC, but it turns out you
two are fucking each other," Pierce smirked.

Ty scowled. "We ain't fuckin'. I done told ya that already"

"Okay, so you aren't doing it yet. That's cool," Brandon
answered coolly.

He scraped his fork through what was left of a thin yet
expansive piece of swordfish. Unlike Ty, he had elected to eat
from the adult menu.

"I ain't doin' that,... ever," Ty said hotly.

"Some do and some don't, but you're probably going to try it
sooner or later," the other boy quipped. "It's not nearly as bad
as you think it's going to be."

"No way!"

Brandon shrugged. "Maybe. It isn't all that important. Hav-
ing a tight ass doesn't change the fact you're still a fag," Bran-
don replied.

"Terry maybe is, but I sure ain't," Ty rebuked. He smirked
at me.

"Gee, thanks a lot, Ace," I growled.

I didn't think of myself as gay. Perhaps I was, but if I was
it was a different type of gay compared to Bobbie. I liked young
boys, not grown men.

"Look, Pierce, I'm sorry if I misled you about Ty," I said
moodily.

"It's okay, Terry. I didn't mean to scare you, and I apolo-
gize for doing what I did as well, but you need to learn to keep
your mouth shut. Actually, it's nice to meet someone with the same
interest, if you know what I mean."

He smirked at Brandon who in turn looked at Ty and me. I
felt a little uncomfortable being examined by a boy who wasn't
much older than twelve. As I watched Brandon, he casually leaned
closer to Pierce. It was done so nonchalantly that it seemed inno-
cent. Pierce's arm came up from behind Brandon's back. He smiled
at me and raised his eyebrows. Only then did I realize where his
hand had been for the last five minutes. He had been playing with
Brandon's butt, doing it so that no one except the two of them
knew what was happening.

"The question is what do we do about Ty's contract. Charley
expects me to sign both of you. The way he put it to me was sim-
ple. 'Get both of them, or forget it'," Pierce explained.

His hand moved slightly so that his fingers brushed through
the boy's hair, then began tickling behind Brandon's ear until he
giggled and pushed the hand away.

"So? We get Ty's grandmother to sign," I suggested light-
heartedly.

"There ain't no way!" Ty rejected the suggestion swiftly.

"Why not, Ace? She signed before."

"Because this is way different. Ya don't know her, Terry.
Not like I do. She's a mean fuckin' bitch. I ain't nuthin' to her,
that's why!" Ty explained heartlessly. He took a deep breath. "She
only wanted me outta the way fer the summer so she gets the wel-
fare checks fer herself."

Pierce nodded thoughtfully. "What about his mom then? Or
his dad?"

"Who knows where his mother is? She's supposed to be some-
where in Louisiana living with Ty's father. At least that's what
his grandmother told me," I answered. "Apparently she dumped Ty
years ago. I don't think she wants him back."

"Do you know if his grandmother has guardianship?"

"Yeah, she does," Ty answered. "She had to go to court a
year or two ago to adopt me. She only did that to keep getting the
welfare checks without the Social services people always hanging
around."

It was easy to imagine the woman adopting Ty to prevent peo-
ple prying into how she lived.

"She sounds like a nice piece of work," Pierce said cyni-
cally.

"It don't really matter," I said flatly.

Ty elbowed me in the ribs. "Doesn't," he whispered.

"I'm sure I can get his grandmother to sign fer, for him
because she wants him gone," I said hopefully.

"That's probably true for the summer, Terry, and maybe
longer. I don't know her. At least given what you've told me it's
likely, but only until she sees his face on the front of a cereal
box."

"I don't follow?"

"We'll be spending millions on the Crunchy-Go launch alone.
Ty will be doing commercials that will show on the national net-
works. When she figures out that he's worth a lot more than the
welfare checks she collects for him, she'll want him back," Pierce
observed cynically. "People have a habit of claiming what they
think is theirs when a lot of money is involved."

"So what do we do?" I asked impatiently.

"You do nothing, Terry. This is a legal problem. AFC has
access to the best lawyers in the country. I'll put it to them
that you've been granted temporary custody by Ty's grandmother. "

"Which I have," I interrupted.

"Which you may or may not have, Terry. It's in AFC's best
interest if it becomes permanent. It remains to be seen whether
your paper will stand up in a court of law. What we have to do is
to get you full custody of Ty before the commercials start airing.
We have a few months at most so we had better get moving."

I sighed loudly. Ty's hand crept back onto my thigh and
squeezed. He was worried and this time I placed my hand over his,
comfortably folding his fingers around mine. After a few seconds
his hand eased away and cautiously moved higher up my thigh, inch-
ing inexorably closer to my groin. I was too drunk to care whether
Pierce or Brandon could see, but I still placed my hand back on
the table. A thousand thoughts were going through my mind but
nothing else mattered except Ty Kincaid's happiness. I did not
feel in the mood for games, not even that kind of game, but nei-
ther did I want him to feel rejected. He had been rejected by the
people who were supposed to love him much too often. I waited for
him to touch me there, in the place where his fingers were headed.

"It all sounds good, assuming Ty wants me to have custody of
him," I interjected. I swilled the wine around my glass. Cabernet
had a nice smell, even if the taste was not as good as beer.

Ty's response was entirely predictable. "Duh!"

His fingers were very close. All he needed to do was move
another inch and his fingertips would poke me in the balls. It was
all I could do not to smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," Pierce said with a perceptive
smile. "Okay, here's how we'll proceed. I'll get our lawyers to
look into the situation with the understanding that they'll do
whatever is needed to get you to become Ty's legal guardian. It'll
probably mean paying his granny off. That's where you'll need to
become involved. We can't have AFC do that. The auditors would
have a field day if they found out."

"Whatever it takes," I said hastily. "I don't care what it
costs."

"Maybe it won't be necessary," Pierce said slowly. "I have
an idea coming so bear with me guys. You said she doesn't want him
around? His grandmother, I mean."

"She gave me that impression," I replied sarcastically.

"I told yer she's a bitch," Ty added angrily. "She fuckin'
hates me."

"That's good, but we can do without the cussing, Ty!" Pierce
laughed.

Ty's hand pulled back slightly, then cautiously pushed for-
ward again. This time his hand stopped even closer. Was I imagin-
ing that I could actually feel his fingertips grazing the surface
of my jeans? I dared not look down even though Pierce and Brandon
had to know that something was going on given the position of Ty's
arm.

"Here's what I have in mind. We go to her and convince her
that she's better off without him even if she loses the welfare
checks."

"I wish I had thought of that." I could be a sardonic bas-
tard at times.

Pierce smiled. "Bear with me, Terry. Now, how do we do that?
Hm,... she has to think she's better off with him out of the way
for good,... Maybe some sort of problem that will cost her a lot
of money to deal with..... More than the welfare checks would
bring in for a year or two. I wonder..... Maybe an accident. No,
the first thing she'll think of will be how much she can make from
suing."

"Why don't Terry just go ta her and give her some money?"
Ty suggested. "That's all she's fuckin',... sorry,... interested
in. She uses tha checks to get her booze. She don't care what hap-
pens ta me. She don't care if I'm sick. Hell, when I got sick last
year, it was my teacher from school who took me to tha doctor."

"You were sick? What was wrong with you?" Pierce asked. He
rubbed his fingers together, his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"I don't remember 'xactly," Ty replied hesitantly.

I placed my hand on top of his, pressing down gently. His
fingers were close enough that they pushed against the bulge in my
jeans. He stared at the table until he was ready to talk. It took
a long time.

"I kept gettin' sick, that's all."

"Okay."

"At first, tha doc thought I was into sniffin' stuff, but I
ain't. I ain't doin' nuthin' like that," Ty said awkwardly. He
glanced at me for support. I nodded encouragingly.

"Hm,... do you remember anything the doctor said?" I asked.

Ty's vagueness was unlike him. It sounded serious although
at the time I had no reason to think it was. He was a healthy
active boy. There were no scars on him other than the result of
living a normal boyhood, nothing to suggest that he was not in the
best of health.

Ty shrugged absently, or what was supposed to look undeter-
mined. He was not the same boy who had been with me for the last
few days.

"Out with it," I said gruffly, trying to be funny and fail-
ing miserably.

"There's nuthin' to tell, really there ain't. I was sick fer
a while. That's all, Terry."

"Sick how?" I sounded like Pierce. I really did not want to
interrogate him.

"I kept throwin' up, that's all. Okay?"

"What happened?" I asked gently.

"You know, you feel sick so you open your mouth and heave
your guts out," he said enunciating each word so there could be no
mistake.

"Very funny," I replied humorlessly. "You're not still
doing it, are you?"

In return for my dumb question, I received one of Ty's
`dumber than you look' looks. It was almost funny. It would have
been funny if it had not been so sad. He did not trust me.

"No! Like you would have seen me do it, wouldn't you? It
just sorta went away, okay?"

"It hasn't happened since?"

"If you must know it came back a few times afterwards, but
not as bad," he admitted coldly. His hand was gone from my crotch.

"And yer okay now, right?" I asked nervously.

I remembered that Ty had mentioned that he had been ill
before, but he was so obviously in the peak of health at the time
that I had not been worried. Now, I was not at all sure I trusted
what he said.

Ty shook his head awkwardly. He avoided looking at me.

"Okay, out with it, Ace. What's tha problem?"

"I been better tha last few days, Terry."

"What's been better?"

"Nothing. I'm fine, okay?" He hesitated. "The headaches, if
you must know," he ended weakly.

Pierce pursed his lips. "I know a good doctor, Terry," he
offered. "I'm sure he'll be able to find what's causing him to be
sick."

"I ain't sick," Ty argued. He blinked, then shook his head.

"What's the matter?" I asked gently.

"There ain't nuthin' tha fuckin' matter! Except ya keep
askin' dumb-ass questions."

I hated to hear that. I glanced across the table to Pierce.
His arm was still around Brandon's shoulder. I felt increasingly
envious. I wanted to put my arm around Ty, but the timing was ter-
rible. I could sense the gap between us, yawning wider and wider
with everything I said. It would keep on getting larger until we
were apart, until it was no longer Ty and Terry against the world.
It was Brandon who helped me reach across the chasm.

"Maybe you guys should go for a walk or something?" he sug-
gested. "That's what we do when we have a fight."

"We ain't fighting," Ty rebuked.

"But it's a good idea," I said. "Come on, babe."

"Don't call me babe!"

"Okay. Ace then?"

Ty grimaced and shoved his chair back so that the legs
scraped loudly on the floor. He bolted ahead of me, leading the
way down the stairs at the far end of the verandah. There was a
distance of a hundred yards before we were out of the thick clumps
wire-like grass. Then, we walked on sand. Ty was ahead, but by the
time we reached the water, he had slowed down and I had caught up
to him.

The ocean glistened under the moonlight, white foam froth-
ing like a latte machine. I reached out for his hand. His fingers
clenched mine, binding us together.

"You wanna talk `bout it?" I asked quietly.

"No."

"That's okay. I like being alone with you."

He sighed and shook his head. "Terry,..."

"Yeah?"

"I hate her so much. I don't want to ever go back there."

"I know, Ace."

"I miss Paul and all, but,..."

He sniffed loudly, trying hard not to burst into tears. Cry-
ing was not something that Ty Kincaid did.

"You know I love you," I said awkwardly.

"Yeah, I know." His head drooped. He sighed again. "I'm not
blind ya know."

"Neither am I."

He looked up slowly. His eyes flickered with recognition.
He started to say something. A wave crashed. I didn't hear what he
said.

"Would you mind repeating that?"

He smiled shyly. "I said I love you." It was little more
than a whisper.

"Not loud enough."

"I love you," he repeated. "Ya want me ta shout it out?"

"I don't think that's a very good idea. Pierce would proba-
bly give us another lecture."

"Yeah, probably," Ty agreed.

"Now we got that I love you stuff out of the way, you want
to tell me what the problem is?"

Ty shook his head. I gave him a `you had better tell me
because I am serious' look. He shook his head again. His feet
scuffed in the sand. Another wave broke with a roar.

"It's 'cause of what she gives me, that's all," he muttered.

"What does she give you?" I asked with a sense of trepida-
tion that bordered on irrational.

"Nuthin! Okay."

Ty shivered. It wasn't that cold. There was a little spray
in the air. He was frightened. I rested my hand on his shoulder.

"Ty? Please?" I could hear myself begging.

"It's nuthin' Terry!"

"Ty, did you ever tell anyone else?" I asked gently.

Ty shook his head.

"Do you trust me?"

"Duh! Yeah, of course I trust you," Ty said adamantly. He
swallowed, then gnawed on his lower lip. "I cain't tell you,
Terry."

"Why not? Why can't you tell me?"

"'cause. 'cause,... I'm,... I just cain't, that's all."

"Please Ty?" I pleaded.

Ty shook his head. He waited until the sound of the breaking
wave died away. It gave him time to think. He played another card,
one that I had been expecting.

"It's okay now I'm with you. It don't matter now."

"Ty, for God's sake,... Please don't be like this. Let me
help you."

Even in the darkness, his face had a pallor to it that was
as unsettling as what he said, or what he did not say. Then, his
eyes closed. I was locked out. That there was nothing that I could
say or do made me feel that our relationship, having barely begun,
was ending. Almost a minute passed. I wanted to take him in my
arms, ravish him right there at the water's edge, cover his naked
body with foam, use it as lubricant. I needed to make love to him,
to prove how much I loved him. But love was more than that.

"I love you," I reminded him.

"Sometimes I puked so bad, Terry," Ty said quietly. "It was
like my guts was comin' out my mouth."

"Why were you throwing up?" I asked curiously.

"'cause a tha medicine she gave me," Ty whispered. He shiv-
ered again. "I had ta take it by lickin' it off a teaspoon. I
always got sick afterwards."

The bold audacious boy was gone. He needed me as much, more
than I needed him. It was a very different side to him, a side
that I liked. I felt like a friend, a father, someone who would
always be by his side to help him through life.

"What medicine did she give you, Ty? Do you remember what it
was for?" I asked in a gentle almost unfamiliar voice. It did not
sound like my voice at all.

"She got it from one of her friends,... from where she
worked."

"Ya mean drugs?" I asked awkwardly.

"It weren't that, Terry. It was some kinda herb only it
didn't come from no health food store. Her friend made it up from
stuff she found, I guess. I know some it came from some kinda poi-
sonous plant 'cause she used to say that takin' too much of it
could kill ya."

"Do you remember what else was in it?"

Ty shook his head briefly. "She didn't even know, Terry. She
ain't all that smart. Mostly, if someone fuckin' told her some-
thin', she'd believe it, no matter what." He let out a deep sigh.
"She made me take it every fuckin' night 'fore dinner."

It made no sense at all. "This stuff made you throw up?" I
queried.

"Not always. It hurt awful when I had ta go."

"Huh? Where did you go?"

Ty smiled weakly. "Sometimes I think yer dumber than me. Go,
like as it crap."

"Oh."

"It was awful, Terry. Lotsa times there was blood in it."

"God no."

"I didn't want ta swallow it, but sometimes I got so hun-
gry,... She wouldn't give me dinner unless I took tha medicine
first. It smelled so bad, and it looked gross. There was this muck
floatin' in it."

"Oh God!" I clenched his hand in mine, holding tightly.

Part of me, the human part, argued that it could not be
true, but deep down inside I knew otherwise. I had seen the
trailer, the garbage strewn around. I could that something wasn't
right as soon as I saw the trailer. The smell from the waste
treatment plant was only part of the problem. My intuition was
reliable. Whatever it was, a feeling had told me that something
was very wrong in the place that Ty called home.

"Sometimes,..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "Some-
times I puked before I crapped it out. Then,..."

"Then what, Ty?"

"She,... then,... then she said I was constipated,
Terry,..."

He stopped, his slender shoulders rising and falling errat-
ically as he took one quick breath after another. The ocean and
the graceful arc of beach in the moonlight were as beautiful as
anything I had ever seen. And the boy I loved was close to tears.

He tried again. "So,... so that's when,..." He swallowed,
clamping his lips to hold back.

"Ty, please?"

"Terry,...don't! Okay? I'll tell you. Just,... just don't
force me."

"I'm not forcing you," I countered. "I just want to be able
to help you."

"I don't need yer help! I don't need no one's help."

His voice was plaintive, like a cry in the darkness that no
one heard. There on the beach there was only me to hear him. In
his entire life, only one person had ever loved him. I wanted him
to know how much I loved him.

"Listen Ty," I said gently. "It's okay. I'm the same. I
don't like people trying to push into my life. My life is none of
anyone else's business. But now I have you, I want you to always
be part of my life."

"Terry,... You don't know what it was like, livin' with
her."

"You're right, I don't, but from what I saw, I can imagine
it was terrible."

"Terry, ya don't know tha worst of it. Whenever I puked she
said it was because I couldn't go,... so I had to have an enema.
God! I hated it so much," he said, shaking his head fearfully.

"Jesus, you poor kid."

It was all I could say. There were no words that could even
begin to express the feelings that welled up inside me. Ty choked,
coughed, pressed against me until his voice was muffled in my
shirt.

"She always done that to me in tha kitchen, Terry, `cause
she kept the stuff under tha sink. I had to bend over tha back of
her stinkin' chair so she could push tha fuckin' tube into me.
God, I hate her."

He slumped against me, crying, bawling like a baby, like a
little boy who was alone in a terrifying world. I hated his grand-
mother. She was everything that Ty said she was, and worse. Until
I came along, Paul and her was all he had. He had never known any-
thing else.



It was a long while later that Ty and I walked back up the
stairs. We had talked some more, but it was about nothing in par-
ticular. Most of the time we held hands. Something had changed
between us. Now, we both knew what it was. I sent Ty off to sit at
one of the other tables with Brandon. What I needed to say to
heekin, neither boy needed to hear. Almost as soon as I sat down
again, Pierce smiled suddenly. I glared at him angrily. It was
hardly amusing. How could he smile at a time like this? Perhaps I
was wrong in revising my opinion of him.

"You were gone for nearly half an hour so I assume you guys
were busy having fun in the sand," Pierce remarked with a smirk
that said `fun' really meant `hot and heavy sex'.

I smiled weakly. "I wish." I breathed out. "Jesus. You
wouldn't believe how lousy the poor little guy's life has been."

"Try me."

I sighed. "At least' now I understand why he hates his
grandmother so much."

I told him what Ty had said to me on the beach. He listened
silently, shaking his head every few seconds in disbelief.

"I knew there are people like that out there like her
because you hear about them every so often, but I've never met
one, or anyone who's suffered," he finally said.

"Me too. My father could be pretty mean sometimes too, but
he never hurt me other the occasion whack when I stepped out of
line."

"You realize that what Ty has told you gives us the opening
we need, Terry."

"Meaning what?" I demanded.

"Meaning we can play this to our advantage, Terry. By the
time our people have finished with her, she'll be glad to hand him
over to you. I don't think she'll stand in the way of you adopting
him."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"First thing, we're going to need proof that would stand up
in court."

I had a mental image of dragging Ty through the courts. I
shuddered at the thought. Even worse would be hearings with child
welfare officials. Judging by the stories on CNN, Florida's child
welfare system had to be amongst the worst in the country. I was
not going to do that to him.

"No! I won't do that to him."

"I don't think it'll come to that. What I have in mind is
this. Once you finish here at Ventura that is, you take Ty to a
doctor in L.A. He's Brandon's doctor, actually. He's discreet and
he's also very good at what he does. I'll phone him so he'll know
what to expect."

"I don't see how him having a doctor is gonna help me adopt
Ty?"

"It will, trust me," Pierce said boldly. "He owes me one. I
set him up with one of Brandon's friends from school. If we handle
this right, the doctor's going to say that Ty's health has been
adversely affected by his grandmother's mistreatment."

"So? Maybe it has been, but he told me that the headaches
have stopped, and he isn't throwing up any more. What's the
point?"

"The point is this, Terry. It'll prove that the bitch failed
as Ty's legal guardian."

"That's obvious."

"I told you I'm still thinking this through, Terry," Pierce
admitted with a smile. "It would help if I was sober. Hm,...
Now,... What if we got the doctor to say that Ty's health has been
permanently affected. Maybe some kind of serious long term dam-
age. Not life threatening, but very expensive to treat,... like,
hm,... kidney failure. Perhaps he'll need a transplant. Maybe
even brain damage from the headaches?" he added winking at me.

"So it would be her fault because she made Ty take tha med-
icine?" I asked uncertainly.

"And, if she still won't give up custody, then you could
threaten to sue her on Ty's behalf," Pierce suggested with a
smirk. "Not that you'd get anything from her. She's probably
judgement-proof. But she might be willing to agree to him living
with you permanently. Especially, if you pick up his very expen-
sive medical bills."

"I want to adopt him," I blurted out.

Pierce nodded slowly. "She might agree to that under the
right circumstances. It might mean even going to his real parents
to get him adopted. It's a risk but if that's what you want, I'll
make that the goal for the lawyers," Pierce said. "What's Ty think
about you adopting him."

"Um,... I've never asked him," I admitted.

"Then maybe you should," Pierce said. "Call him over?"

"Ty?" I said nervously. I beckoned to him. The idea had been
in the back of my mind ever since I had first met him, but I had
not thought it through. It seemed like the logical next step to
me, but for Ty? He came over to me.

"Ty, what would you think if I wanted to adopt you?" I asked
in a rush.

It wasn't what I wanted to say. It wasn't the right time or
the place. I should have asked him in private, given him the
opportunity to think about it. It should have been more like a
marriage proposal. I waited for his response anxiously.

"Ya don't have to do nuthin' like that, Terry. It's okay,"
he muttered. He swallowed and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Ty,..." I began hesitantly.

I wanted to tell him how much I loved him. I could hardly
say that in front of Pierce. brandon was watching us from the
other side of the verandah. He knew something was going on.

"It's really up to you." I smiled, hoping it was not an
empty dream.

He started to say something, but then he swallowed, pulling
back the words before they had left his mouth. There was a long
awkward silence.

"She's always tellin' me it was the worst thang she ever
done, takin' me in. I'm always gettin' in tha fuckin' way," Ty
said morosely. "I don't wanna be no bother to ya, Terry."

"Yer nuthin' but a bother, Ace," I laughed.

Laughing sounded strange, out of place. What I said really
wasn't funny. It was the most serious moment of my life. I should
have told him that I was head-over-heels in love with him.

"I'll probably regret it, but I want you livin' with me,
Ace. That is if Pierce's lawyers can arrange it." I turned to
Pierce, my decision final. "The day that you arrange for me to
adopt Ty is the day I can sign the contract for him. Make it hap-
pen or else your All-American boy is gone for good at the end of
summer."

"Okay! I can't promise but I'll do my best. Which is as good
as saying you can count on it being done, Terry. " Pierce rumbled
with laughter. "I think it's time we celebrated."

He turned, waiting for a moment before he gestured to our
waiter. He came out from inside the restaurant and hurried over to
the table.

"We'll take a bottle of your 1994 La Reve," Pierce
instructed.

"The Blanc de blanc?"

"Is there any other?" Pierce asked. The waiter departed and
he turned to me. "For forty bucks it's actually a very good wine,
Terry."

I nodded absently. Ty had not said either way whether he
wanted me to adopt him. In fact, he was staring out at the dark
ocean. I was barely aware of what Pierce was saying as I worried
about him. What was he thinking? So much was bottled up inside
him. On the surface he was bold and brash and self-confident, but
I had glimpsed a very different boy inside.

"Brando and I were at the vineyard a few weeks ago, Terry,"
Pierce went on, and on. "It drinks beautifully on release, as good
as something costing several times the price. That's because
there are five or six different Chardonnays used. It makes for
some complex base flavors."

"That's nice," I replied, wondering about what was going
through Ty's mind.

Pierce reached over and patted Ty's arm. "I wish you and
Brandon could celebrate as well, but you'll have to wait until
you're a few years older."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just a kid," Ty said abruptly.

He sounded just a little angry, but his smile said other-
wise. No doubt he had been drinking his grandmother's beer for a
few years with or without her permission. He probably had been
having hangovers since he was eight, but that did not stop him
from pretending to be disdainful of the adult world that denied
him his glass of champagne. He wandered off to join his newly made
friend at the other table. I would have preferred that he sat
beside me.

The waiter arrived with the bottle, popped the cork in an
elaborate display, and filled two long-stemmed glasses.

"To,..." Pierce lifted his glass to touch mine and paused,
uncertain of the rest of the toast. "To a mutually fulfilling
relationship between AFC and Team Sixty-Nine...Oh, I almost for-
got. We can't leave out the All-American boy, can we? I'm glad
you're on the team, guys. Unless I'm very mistaken, it's going to
be quite a team."

"Cheers," I said.

I drew my glass back ready to drink, and then I stopped. I
smiled, thinking of all the things what I wanted to say, mostly to
Ty when I finally got him alone. Did he realize why I wanted to
adopt him? It was more than being in love with him. I wanted him
to be my son. My mind reeled, thinking of the future we might have
together if all went well. Each of us looked forward to a very
different future to the one when we arrived at the restaurant.
Yet, I was lost for words. I stared at the glass, watching a myr-
iad tiny bubbles rising.

Perhaps it was liquor that stopped my words from pouring
forth? I had been drinking steadily since 3.00 p.m., first beer,
then wine, and now champagne. All I could think of was how much I
loved Ty Kincaid, how much I wanted to tell him that again and
again, that more than anything else I wanted to hear him say it
back to me. And then there was the question that was foremost on
my mind. Did he want me to adopt him? If the adoption actually
came to happen, would he want to change his name and become Ty
Atkins, my legal son and heir?

"To boys," I toasted suddenly.

Luckily, the waiter had disappeared into the restaurant
again. I glanced sideways, to the other side of the verandah, see-
ing his small blond head, the straggling rat's tail curling from
behind the back of his neck.

"And to one boy in particular," I added softly.

Pierce smiled and glanced from me to Brandon and Ty, and
then back to me. "I'm glad you feel that way, Terry. It gets a bit
lonely sometimes. There aren't a lot of men like us around, and
the smart ones learn to keep a low profile."

"I'll try to keep that in mind," I said seriously.

"You'd better. I hope it all works out for you and Ty. I
know the people at AFC will give it their best shot. I'm willing
to try anything, even if it means going to his real parents." For
some reason he looked pointedly at me. "Ty's a lucky boy, Terry."

"Huh?" I muttered.

Pierce smiled again. There was something about him that I
did not like. Perhaps the look on his face, the way his eyes had
stayed too long on Ty, the tone of his voice. Perhaps it was
merely a matter of too much beer and wine. I wondered whether I
would be sober enough to drive home even as Pierce refilled my
glass.