** As with all celebrity stories, this one is no different.  I do not know the members of Dreamstreet, I've never met them, so this story is meant to imply nothing about their sexual orientation.  This is FICTION, which means not real, so all you legal types can mellow out and read.  That is why you're really here anyway, right? :)

** And if you're in the mood, drop by my website, The Chamber
http://www.geocities.com/the_hellein/chamber.html

As always questions and comments are very welcome.  Please send them to: twisted_dreemz@yahoo.com
 

    On that first day back in the seventh grade during second period when I realized I liked the way a male classmate of mine looked, I thought it was just because I wished I could have his awesome good looks.  When we took showers after 30 or more minutes of sweating during P.E. I figured I took glimpses at his exposed body because of natural curiosity, wanting to know how I measured up against the competition.  Later, after we'd become pretty good friends, I thought I liked being around him for the plain fact that he was company and we shared similar interests and had a lot in common.  But at the end of our seventh grade year when we messed around with each other just to see what it felt like I started to get worried.  I started having dreams about that day, and waking up all wet because of them.  I started thinking about him in ways that I knew I shouldn't be.  Wanting him in ways I should want a girl instead.  Then one day it dawned on me, the answer to what was up.  I was in love with him.

    In case you didn't know this is not great news to find out about yourself when you're just thirteen years old.  True, a lot of people say that that's too young to be putting yourself into categories.  So I went with that concept for a few more years.  But by the time I hit sweet sixteen I knew I had been right about myself three years earlier.

    It wasn't my mother I was worried about.  I knew she could handle the truth and wouldn't even consider turning her back on me, or make an attempt to "make me straight again."  It was my father I was sure I'd crush.  He'd be the one trying to convince me that I was just confused and that I was really straight.  And once he figured out he wasn't going to win that argument...I didn't even want to think about what might happen.  So for his sake, I kept that part of me deep inside.  I had girl friends, played sports, joined in when my male friends started talking about or putting down other guys who they thought were homosexual.  I pretty much made it so that nobody in their wildest dreams would ever suspect the truth about me.

     Here's the kicker though.  And those of you out there who've done anything close to the same thing as me you know exactly what I'm talking about.  You can't deny your sexuality no matter how hard you try.  Whether it's as subtle as staring at a good-looking guy who just walked past you, or as loud as staring at that same guy, letting your mind run away with you, and popping a mean-ass hard on right in front of your friends.  It'll find a way out regardless of if you want it to or not.

     I make that reference because it has serious relevance to the story I'm about to tell you.  The story is about me and how after years of hiding them my feelings and attractions found their way past my defenses and got loose.  And the person responsible for it all...well, let's just say I wouldn't trade him for the world.

     Everything started on a regular Friday afternoon that was going along like any other.  I'd done all my homework in study hall at school, instead of talking and messing around like I sometimes did.  Friday was one of those days where I didn't want to be bothered with anything from the time I got home, until the time I went to work at 7:00 that night.  So when I got home at 3:45, there was no homework to be worried about.

    After making sure there were no messages for me on the answering machine, I made my usual Friday rounds.  I went to the kitchen, grabbed a soda out of the refrigerator, snagged a bag of chip, and went straight upstairs to my room.  I tossed my backpack into its usual gap between my bed and desk and cut on the radio.

    As usual it was playing a song that I'd already heard at least seven times earlier that day.  That was one of the reasons why I didn't even listen to the radio anymore.  It was like they got a hold of one or two particular songs and played them until requests to never hear the song again in life started coming in from listeners who were tired of it.  I was about to switch the knob over to the CD player option when the D.J. cut in suddenly.
"Hey y'all!  This is your wild girl Delayna breaking you off with a little bit of J-LO and Ja Rule right there.  It's called "Ain't it Funny" the remix edition, for those of you who didn't know.  We've been getting a lot of requests lately for this one, so I hope that satisfied some of you out there.  In just a few minutes our Street Crew will be checking in with us here at the station.  They are on site at the FYE in Antioch were a little group called Dreamstreet will be doing a meet and greet signing at 5:00 p.m. today."

     My finger froze on the knob.  The radio now had my full attention.  I was pretty sure it was just me misinterpreting what she'd said, but I could've sworn she said Dreamstreet.
"I have to admit that I didn't think much of it when we first got word of this, because I thought these guys were just another 2-bit boy band wannabe.  But these guys actually have some talent and a serious fan base!  The station was flooded with calls right after we announced it and our Street Crew told me that the line was going all the way around the building and back towards the mall.  That was at about 12:00 when they first got out there.  So I guess a lot of those who were in line were ditching school.  But now, there's actually security out there helping to keep things organized because the line is just HUGE!  All right.  Here's our Street Crew checking in right now.  What's up guys?"

     I didn't even listen to what was said after that.  I really didn't care.  All that was mattering to me was that at 5:00 p.m. Dreamstreet would be less than fifteen miles away from where I lived!

    Honestly, I didn't consider myself a boy band lover.  As the matter of fact I hated most.  They were nothing but manufactured pop, something created by record companies in order to cash in on the teen and pre-teen market.  Maybe if they'd formed together instead of being brought together, like the group Hanson, I might show respect.  And unlike a lot of girls, and guys like me, I didn't find any of the boy band members the least bit attractive.  I mean they looked okay and everything, but nothing to get all orgasmic over.

    Then there was my Dreamstreet exception.  I'd seen them perform on one of those talk shows one day while I was home sick and was about to turn the channel when one of the members caught my attention.  Or more like demanded it.  My poison was the one I found out later was named Christopher Trousdale.  He was the same age as me, older by fifteen days, and he was absolutely perfect.  His hair, his eyes, his smile, the way his body looked.  I knew that if I ever got brave enough to go down the road of getting a boyfriend that I'd want him to look and sound exactly like Chris.  Because I was pretty sure I'd never get to have Chris himself, on account that he was into girls.  And even if there was the slimmest chance that he wasn't, it wasn't like he was going to hook up with a regular joe like me.

    I don't know how long I stood there lost on the fact that Chris and his Dreamstreet crew would actually be nearby, before I started thinking about what I was going to do.  I couldn't pass this up.  I had to go.  This was my chance to see Chris for real and not just on the net, the television, or in my dreams.  Even if there was no way in heaven or hell that I could have him, at least I could look at him, maybe even get to talk to him, and get his autograph...
"What the hell am I talking about?" I said aloud, as reality knocked at my brain and let itself in.

     What would I look like a sixteen year old guy in line for a Dreamstreet meet and greet without and girl there with me?  Exactly!  And please don't let someone from school, or a friend of a friend of a cousin of someone at school who knows me see me there.
"Shit!" I swore aloud, taking my frustration out by slamming my finger against the button to shut the radio off.

    I threw myself down onto my bed, forgetting the chips and soda were there until I landed on them.  I didn't bust the bag, or the can, but I'm sure I wouldn't have cared if I did.  I threw the chips off the bed and onto the ground somewhere and moved the soda up on the bed further away from me.

    This was so un-fuckin'-fair!  The guy of my dreams was coming to town, giving me a chance that might not ever come around again to possibly meet him, and I wasn't going to able to take advantage of it!

    Give up I did not, though.  Oh no.  There had to be a way for me to at least catch a glimpse of him.  Then an idea so simple came into my head that I was ready to call myself every word that meant stupid for not thinking about it before going into my little hissy fit.  I could go to FYE as a regular customer!  That would get me inside the store and give me at least a look at Chris.  It wasn't getting to say something to him face to face, but it was better than nothing.  Who knows, I might even be lucky enough to score one of his pictures in a way that wouldn't let everyone see me get it, like maybe if some were thrown away or just lying around or something.
"Hell yeah!" I agreed with my logic, happy that I'd found a way around the situation.

    `Cause if it hadn't been for that simple solution, I was pretty confident I might've gotten desperate and done something I would've been made to regret a whole lot later.

     I chose to get to FYE at 5:30 because I figured it would give the store time to get everything situated and start letting people in for the meet and greet.  Plus it would look a lot less suspicious (at least in my mind) if I didn't show up right at 5:00.
     I listened to the radio all the way there as the Street Crew broadcast live from their FYE location.  They were doing the basic thing: talking to fans, asking them how excited they were, asking them what member was their favorite one.  Stuff like that.  Then they started giving away prize packages that came with a CD, pictures that would be autographed right there on the spot by the five members, and two tickets to the group's performance at Paramount's Great America the next day.  They gave away ten of those prize packages to any of the fans who could best answer certain questions about their favorite Dreamstreet member.  Then, they gave away two ultimate prize packages, which were exactly like the regular ones only these included backstage passes. These packages went to the fans who could best answer certain questions about all the members of the group.  Of course all the winners were females and all of them turned into giggly, screaming messes when they won.  One of the girls who won one of the ultimate prize package got so excited that she started hyperventilating, but they got her calmed down enough to where she was okay and didn't need medical attention.
"Man.  Sometimes I wish I would've been born minus a dick, plus two tits."  I said to myself after the last two girls won the ultimate package.

     I thought that sometimes, pretty much whenever I started checking out a hot guy.  At least that way I wouldn't have to hide my feeling, which would make my life a lot easier.  But with my luck, if I'd been born female I probably would've turned out lesbian.

     The Street Crew was not lying about the fans being out in force.  I couldn't even park in the same parking lot where FYE was located, and the parking lot was big enough to support a mall-sized crowd.  I had to go across the street and then take a good five minutes before I managed to catch someone pulling out of a space.  It was cool, though, and I wasn't even stressing out.  Because in minutes I was going to get my first look at my never-to-be-had boyfriend.
My body didn't know how it wanted to feel.  It was like I was sick to my stomach, only it was a good sick feeling instead of a bad one.  The closer to the store I got, the stronger the feeling got.  God dammit I was excited!  This was gonna be so cool!

    I'd been moving toward the store as part of a larger mass of people whom I was pretty sure was going to the same place as me.  There were mothers, daughters, sisters, younger brothers who didn't care that Dreamstreet was a boy group and liked them, annoyed older brothers, and bitching boyfriends who really didn't see why their girlfriends needed to drag them along.  Security greeted us as we all approached.
"Those of you who are here to come inside and shop, step over to the left.  Those who are here for the Dreamstreet meet and greet, step over to the right." the guard on the left side told us.

     Me, along with about seven other people stepped over the left, while well over seven people stepped off to the right.
"You all will follow me.  Those of you to the left will follow him." the guard on the right side said once the two groups had been separated.

     Our guard led us through the configuration of people in line for the meet and greet and into the store.  You could still hear the music from the radio station that was blasting outside, but just barely over the buzzing of the crowd of fans that was inside.
"When you are all ready to go, just let one of the cashiers know and we'll escort you out." our guard gave us those parting words before heading back outside.

     I had never been inside FYE and I'd only known it was there because I drove by it on the way to school.  The place was pretty big and looked like it carried everything plus the kitchen sink.  The meet and greet had been set up in front of the store and was arranged so that shoppers wouldn't even know it was there unless they hadn't seen the crowd or heard what was going on the radio.

    The group of people I'd been escorted in with separated to go get what they'd come for.  I went ahead and went on down one of the aisles myself and started searching through the CDs in the Rock and Pop section.  I'd heard the new Korn single that a friend of mine had recorded and was glad to hear they had new material out that I liked.  But because my friend wanted to be a complete ass he wouldn't record it for me.

    While giving about ten percent of my attention to searching for the single, the other ninety percent went toward the front of the store where the meet and greet was going on.  Instantly I was pissed.  The way they had arranged the line kept a person who wasn't in it, or was on the opposite side of it, from being able to see what was going on.  All I could see was the backs of heads and the fronts of faces of people I could care less about seeing.  So if I wanted to see any part of Chris, or of Dreamstreet in general, I was going to have to be in that line.
"Damn it!" I swore under my breath, realized I'd said it and not thought it, and looked around to see if anyone had heard me.  Nobody was looking my way, so I figured they either hadn't heard or had and just didn't care.

     Now what was I going to do?  I looked down at my watch and saw it was 5:50.  That let me know I was pretty much fuckered right there.  Because even if I did manage to psych myself out enough to get into the line, there was no way I was going to make it inside to meet them before 6:20.  And 6:20 was the maximum amount of time I could give myself before I needed to get back home to get ready for work.  So unless over half the people suddenly decided they didn't want to be there, the game was over.

    My heart sank.  Any kind of happy or excited feelings I had all just drained out of me like air out of my mouth when I exhaled.  I sighed deeply in defeat and shook my head a few times.
"Dude.  He's like right in front of me and I can't even get to him." I thought to myself.

     I was so frustrated that it felt like I was about to cry.  This sucked major ass.

     There was no reason to torture myself any more than I had to.  I gave searching for Korn's single 100% of my attention and found it a few minutes later.  There were only three left.  Korn hadn't lost its popularity after all.  I took my purchase on up to the cashier, who was talking to the other cashier about something stupid her boyfriend had done the night before.  She kept talking while she rang me up, and never even looked at me.  Obviously acknowledging the customer was not high on her priority list.  Once she had given me my change and receipt in the bag, she reached under the cabinet that the registers sat on and took out a rolled up poster.
"Comes with the CD." she stopped her conversation with her friend long enough to say to me before continuing it.

     I started to say something rude to her, just to see if she was even paying attention, but I decided she wasn't a worthy target for my frustration and headed for the door.  About half way there I stopped and looked over toward where Dreamstreet was located.  I strained for a second trying to see if I could first pick Chris's voice, and then any of their voices, out of the buzz.  I couldn't.  There was just too much noise going on.

    Not able to get at least that, I continued walking toward the door where security was waiting to escort me out no doubt.
 The buzzing sound of the crowd rose up suddenly to a medium roar.  I assumed something was going on but didn't turn to see what was up.
"Hey." I heard someone say as a hand tapped me on the shoulder.

     I glanced over my shoulder with a somewhat annoyed look on my face to see who was trying to get my attention...and almost had a heart attack at sixteen years of age.  The person standing behind me looked exactly like the person I'd driven to the store to see.  >From the brown hair done up in that multiple spiked fashion that I was guilty of wearing two year ago myself, down to the shoes. But it couldn't be. I had to be dreaming.  Why would he be tapping me on the shoulder in real life?
"Uh...uh...yeah?" I croaked.
"You dropped this." he answered, holding up the free Korn poster that had been given to me.

     I looked down at the hand the poster was supposed to had been in and saw it was missing.  I didn't even remember dropping the thing.
"Oh...uh...thank you." I just continued screwing up every word that came out of my mouth.

     He nodded and smiled at me.
"Yeah.  You're welcome."

     His coming over to me must've been a spur of the moment thing, because three security guards came over to us.  Two escorted him back to the signing table and the third kept his eye on me, like he was just itching for me to do something so he could kick my ass all over the store.

    Some of the crowd watched as security escorted Chris back to the table to the rest of his group mates, while the rest of them were looking at me with what I can only call jealousy.  And me?  I was just standing there utterly stunned by the entire event and probably looking like I was mental or something.

     All I could think about on the drive home from FYE, while I got dressed to go to work, and while I drove to work was what had happened with Chris.  It was just unbelievable!  I mean out of all the people that were in that store that could've given me back my poster, he had been the one to do it.  What were the chances of some shit like that happening, like 1 to 100 million?

    Now I could see why those fans had been giving me the jealous stare.  My encounter was a lot more personal than theirs would be.  Chris and the other members would just be going through the required meet and greet motions for them.  What was done for one fan was what was done for the seventeen fans before her and the seventeen fans after her.  Not much personalization going on there.  It was enough to make my head swell a little bit, and I walked into work all happy and thinking I was all that and a Whopper with cheese from Burger King.

    I worked at the Hilton Hotel in Guest Relations.  It wasn't a bad job.  I got paid $9.00 an hour and got to have hours I'm sure a lot of the staff would kill for.  But I guess that's what happens when your father owns the hotel.

    Sometimes it sucked, though, because of the restrictions.  Both my mother and father wanted me to focus strictly on my studies, so I was only allowed to work from 5:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. Monday through Thursday, and 7:00 p.m. to 12:00 a.m. on Friday.  No work on Saturday and Sunday unless it was completely necessary.  It put about 400 bucks in my pocket per pay period, which was enough to let me do what I wanted to do, and handle what financial responsibilities I had.  So really, I couldn't and didn't complain.

    Once I'd gotten in and clocked in to start my shift, I already knew what I needed to do.  Me and six of the other employees were going to do what was called "Room Check".  That was where each of us six employees took a floor and used a checklist to make sure all the rooms were up to par.  It was a long and tedious process, but it had become necessary when a huge amount of complaints came in from guests who were finding their rooms at unsatisfactory levels.  Turned out it was true and the reason behind it was because the hospitality staff had been doing their job half assed because they believed they deserved a raise after hearing that a couple of other hotels had given their hospitality staff raises.  What they got instead was fired and replaced.  Ever since then, my father and the managers would send us up just to make sure everything was in tip top shape.

    The hotel had twelve floors, so each of us had to check two floors.  Once that was done we'd go over each other's floors to make sure there was nothing the other person missed.  We'd all gotten pretty good at it and were able to get the task done in just a little over two hours.  So it was close to nine when the six of us headed back down to the first floor and I was told my father wanted to see me.  I headed to his office and knocked on the door instead of just walking in.
"Come in." he told me.

     I opened the door and stepped inside.  His office wasn't all that big.  Just enough space for some filing cabinets, a desk, some wall space for a picture or two, and window so he didn't forget there was a world outside of the hotel.
"I didn't expect you to be here." I said as I sat down in the chair before his desk.
"Neither did I.  But Richard's son fell off the monkey bars and hurt himself at school today, so he had to take off and handle that."

     I winced a little.  Remembering how it felt all six times I'd fallen off the monkey bars when I was in elementary school and had to go to the hospital.
"Ooooh."

     My dad smiled and looked up from his paperwork at me.
"Yeah.  I know you can vouch for that." he obviously remembered too.

     His attention went back to the paperwork as he continued talking.
"Plus, we got some pretty important guests tonight and I wanted to make sure that at least one manager type was here."

     Famous people that came to stay at the hotel were normally people who were big in the computer industry or business industry, so it didn't really spark my interest.  Still I went ahead and asked,
"Really?  Who?"
"Nobody you'd care about."
"Yeah, probably.  But I still wanna know who."

     He stopped working and thought for a moment.
"One of those little boy groups.  Um...Greenstreet...Backstreet..."
"Dreamstreet?" the name just jumped out of my mouth.

     He nodded a couple of times.
"Yeah.  Yeah that's them."

     No way.  No!  Fucking!  Way!  Dreamstreet was actually in the hotel at that very second?
"You're kidding, right?" I tried to sound like I really didn't care.
"Nope.  Came in while you guys were up doing Room Checks.  I'm surprised you didn't hear all the screaming and cheering."

     I hadn't heard a thing.  Or maybe I had and just didn't pay it any attention.  All I knew at that moment was that I needed to go someplace quiet and have that heart attack that had almost happened at FYE.  This was beyond unreal.

     A knock came at the door to the office, getting both mine and my father's attention.
"Come in." my dad said.

    The door opened and Sadie stuck her head in.  She was one the assistant managers in Guest Relations, and I swear that if I was straight I would've tried to get with her at the drop of a dime.  Her looks and stuff were average, but she just had the coolest personality.  She could probably walk up to a complete stranger and walk away with a new friend.
"Nolan, the cops said they can't legally send the fans home for about another couple of hours since it's Friday.  But they can spare a few units to make sure everything stays in order." she said.

     My dad nodded and went back to his work.
"Tell them that's fine."
"Hey, dad.  Did you want to see me about something?" I asked, realizing he hadn't brought up whatever it was.
"Oh!  Um, actually I haven't heard back about it yet."

     He looked over at the clock on the wall.
"Hang out in the break room for me for about fifteen minutes and I'll call you and let you know what's up."

     I shrugged my shoulders and stood up to leave.
"Sure, okay."

     Sadie opened the door wider and both of us left the office.
"I thought you hadn't come in tonight.  Where were you?" she asked me.
"Doing the all important Room Check." I answered.
"I know you guys are probably so tired of doing those."
"Actually, it's not that bad.  It's easier than having to deal with the guests."
"Speaking of which, I guess you all didn't see the scene when those Dreamstreet guys showed up here."

     I shook my head.
"No, I just found out they were here right before you walked in.  What happened?"
"It was like all quiet at first when they got here.  Then, somehow, the fans found out they were staying here and just came at the place like a horde of locust.  We had to call in the cops just to help us keep things under control."
"Damn."
"Girls keep trying to sneak into the hotel just to get up to their room.  Dean and Adam told us that this group of girls said they'd suck their dicks if they let `em up!"

     I looked at Sadie, surprised.
"Shit, how old were they?"
"Sixteen?  Seventeen?"

     I laughed and shook my head.
"Knowing Dean and Adam, they probably let the girls do it and then said they couldn't help them get to the room."

     Sadie busted out laughing.
"They would do something messed up like that, huh?"

     We talked all the way to the break room, where I went ahead and took a seat.  My attention was split again with 50% being on Sadie and the other 50% being on the obvious.  But that 50% that wasn't on Sadie transferred to her the second she revealed,
"I don't understand how all those fans think they're gonna be able to just waltz up there to their room when we can't even do it and we work here."

     Wait a second.
"What do you mean?" I asked her.
"Well you know the group has their own security and junk, and they won't let anybody except for your dad into the room.  Adam told me that room service doesn't even get to go into the room.  Two or more of the guards meet them half way and take the food from them for the rest of the way.  Talk about paranoid."

     For the second time that day my heart sank.  All joy and happiness went bye-bye as reality knocked on the door again.  I should've known that's how it was going to be.  People who were stars always had their security with them and security almost never let anybody get close to the person(s) they were securing.  I don't know why that small fact didn't dawn on me.
"Yeah, well, I guess it's their job." I tried to keep from sounding as defeated as I felt.
"Yeah, but the least they could do is show some common courtesy and let the hotel staff meet them if they want to.  I mean they did get a whole floor reserved to themselves.  The cooks and stuff are staying overnight just because of them.  And extra staff was called in because of them.  Extra staff like me who was supposed to go out with her friends and shake her ass at the club tonight, but has to be here instead."

     Both of us laughed again at her remark.
"Hmmmm.  I can't argue with you on that one."
"Well, anyway, I better go on ahead and get back out front."
"Okay, see you later."

     Sadie went on her way and I sat down at one of the tables to wait for my dad to call.  I didn't torture myself by trying to think of a way to get to Chris.  I knew it would only lead to more trouble than I could get myself out of.  Instead, I thought about what my dad could want with me.  Sometimes I got to go run errands for him when he couldn't leave the hotel.  It was simple things like visiting one of the other two Hilton hotels that were run by friends of his and picking up or dropping off papers or packages that had come to the wrong hotel.  That was more than likely what I would wind up doing, and he was just waiting to hear back to make sure that there was a reason to send me.

    Our break room had a television in it, which got a lot of use.  Since I wasn't sure how long I'd be waiting I picked the remote up and turned the set on.
"...here were fans of pop quintet Dreamstreet are out in as much support as they were earlier today at the FYE in Antioch, where the group did a meet and greet from 5 to 8 o'clock this evening.  I've been told that fans from as far as Sacramento and San Jose were in attendance, with the majority attending the concert that'll take place tomorrow at Paramount's Great America."

     I had to admit it was kind of cool seeing the hotel on the news.  What wasn't cool was the insane amount of people that I could see in front of it.  A person seriously would've thought Backstreet Boys or N'sync was in the building.  I guess Dreamstreet had more of a following than I'd originally thought.

    The news reporter was just about to talk to a group of fans when the phone rang.  I put the television on mute, just in case it wasn't my dad, and went over to answer it.
"Break Room." I greeted.
"Brenden?" my father asked.  There were a few other guys in the hotel who had voices that sounded close to mine, so he always liked to check.
"Yeah, it's me."
"Did you have anything planned for tonight?"
"Uh, no.  Not that I can think of."
"Good.  I need you to do something very important for me, if you don't mind."
"Sure, what's up?"
"You remember my friend Drake Robertson?"

     I have no idea why he was asking that.  Both of us had just spoken to him about a month ago. Drake was a friend of my father's who worked in the entertainment industry.  He always scored my mother and father good tickets to concerts they wanted to see and had even managed to score tickets for me and some friends a couple of times.
"Of course I do." I said. "What about him?"
"Well he sometimes travels with the different music acts he assigned to and this time he happens to be with our guests upstairs.  They always like to try and give the guys some time away from the hotel room and away from the fans, so he ran the idea by his colleagues and asked me to ask you if it would be all right if maybe they came to the house and hung out with you for a little bit."

     I almost choked on thin air.  My heart started racing so fast that I was sure that heart attack I'd planned to have later was about to happen at that very moment.  I barely kept myself composed as I said in as casual a tone as I could,
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Are you sure?  If its something you don't want to do..."
"No, dad, it's fine.  Really."

     He was quiet for a second, which told me that he figured I really didn't want to do it but that I would because Drake had done things for me and I was being courteous.  That's exactly what I wanted him to think.
"All right.  You go ahead and grab your car.  Drake will bring them down to where the service entrance is and meet you there.  Try to be as discrete as possible, and if the people outside figure out what you're up to, honk the horn three times."
"Okay, got you."
"I really appreciate this, Bren."

     Once again I put the right amount of casualness in my tone of voice.
"Its no thing dad, really."
"All right you get going.  I'll call Drake and let him know you're going.  Call me on your cell once you guys get a couple of blocks away."
"Okay.  Talk to you soon."
"Bye, son."

    I was shaking as I hung the phone up.  I was breathing funny and I was probably as red as a ripe strawberry.  That good sick feeling I'd had earlier at FYE was back and stronger than ever.
"Come on, Brenden.  Get a grip." I had to will myself to calm down.

     I went over to the sink and turned on the cold water and splashed some on my face.  I felt it cooling my flushed skin down immediately, but there wasn't a mirror around for me to look in and see how less the redness was.  I just assumed skip it and dried my face off with a paper towel and left the break room, making sure to turn of the television and clock out before I left.