This
story concerns teenage gay males who are involved in sexual
situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do
not like to read such stories, please leave now.
This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
entirely coincidental.
This is my second submission to Nifty. This is a continuation of
“Kiel’s Story” which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not necessary to
read “Kiel’s Story” before reading this, but it may help you understand
where the character relationships started. Any comments or questions
are welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net
A warm thank you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all,
including flames, but time is precious in my life, so if I didn’t
answer yours, please accept my apology.
Tim and the Corsair
by Carl Holiday
Chapter 17 – Happy Birthday Ricky!
“Do you know what
this is?”
Ricky asked as we stood beside the car that Uncle Walter said I was to
drive.
The garage was lit with fluorescent bulbs and the white floor and walls
reflected that light into a uniform, unshadowed glow throughout the
garage.
There weren’t any tools to be seen, just four automobiles occupying
garage’s four
bays. At the far end, stairs led up to the former apartment of a
chauffeur, I
suspected. Who else would have lived above the garage?
“Yeah,
Uncle Walter said it’s the Roadster,” I said. I’d spent a week in the
custody
of Reginald, the owner of a repair shop that specialized in odd luxury
cars
owned by odd, rich owners. I knew just about everything I could learn
about a
Mercedes-Benz, mostly so that when something went wrong I could tell
the
repairman where to start looking versus simply letting him charge me
$100.00
for problem diagnosis because it was a Mercedes-Benz and foreign and
expensive.
I knew mechanics, not styling. I knew nuts and bolts, not what animal
died so
that I could sit in comfort waiting for the light to change at Santa
Monica and Fairfax. “That big black thing over there is the
Benz, the
little red thing is the Ferrari, and this silver thing is the Roadster.
This
thing under the tarp is something old that only Bert gets to drive and
then
only down to the service station.”
“This
is a 1958 Mercedes-Benz 300SL,” Ricky said. He walked around the front
and bent
down looking through the windshield. “Don’t you know anything about
cars?
You’re going to have every student in Auto Shop kissing your feet just
for a
ride in this.”
“Well,
if that’s the case, maybe I’ll give them a ride if they kiss my dick.”
“You’re
insatiable!”
“Ooh,
such a big word for such a little boy.”
“I’m
bigger than you,” Ricky said. He stood up and walked over to the hidden
auto. “Say,
what is this thing?”
“A
duzen something.”
“A
Dussenburg?”
“Yeah,
that’s it.”
“This
a Dussenburg?”
“Yeah,
is that something special?”
“Let
me put it this way. If you showed up at school in a Dussenburg, half
the
students in Auto Shop would cream their pants and the other half would
shit.”
“Well,
you certainly know which half would get a ride.”
“Geoff,
I know guys who’d suck you until next Christmas if you gave them a ride
in a
Dussenburg. And, those guys are all straight.”
“How
about the Roadster?”
“Well,
they’d be excited, but nothing like the Dussenburg. Say, when are you
going to
suck me?”
“I’m
practicing Bert and Uncle Walter’s technique of loving you without
sucking or
fucking you.”
“Well,
it’s not going to work,” he said walking up close to me, “because one
of these
days I’m going to sneak up behind you and give you all of mine right
where it
belongs.”
His
hand went right in and cupped my right cheek with his fingers doing a
very good
job of searching for something they were always seeking on me.
“Stop
that!” I exclaimed, turning away from him. He was as hard as I was.
“Make
me.”
I
stepped up to him and pressed my body into his as our lips locked
together.
“Hey
you two! You’re supposed to be washing that car, not making out in the
garage.”
“Spoil
sport!” I yelled back at Bert who was discussing something with Mr. San
Diego,
our Filipino gardener. Frankly, I liked Mr. San Diego. He was always
pleasant
and didn’t seem to care when I hung around him as he went about the
garden. Of
course, having a basic knowledge of Tagalog helped; or, more than
likely, he
was paid so well by Uncle Walter, that I was simply tolerated as he
might
tolerate the family dog, if we had one. I wasn’t use to being rich and
having
people treat me differently than just a regular nobody, like I used to
be.
“Inside
or outside?” I asked.
“You
know where I want it,” Ricky said returning his hand to my ass.
“Not
your dick,” I said turning away from him, again. “Do you want to clean
the
inside or the outside?”
“With
my tongue?”
“No,
you idiot! Come on, we have to get this done or we’ll never get to use
the
pool.”
“Bert
said we had to clean that, too,” Ricky said coming in close, but not
kissing or
touching me.
“What
about the pool guy?”
“Sick,
I guess.”
“What
are we, domestics?”
“You’re
getting spoiled,” Ricky said, picking up the bucket and sponge. “You
know what
your uncle said. You aren’t getting a free ride out of this. You may be
smart,
but you ain’t rich, either. I’m doing the outside. Get in there and
roll up the
windows.”
Uncle
Walter had laid down the law. He’d worked his way up the ladder and if
I wanted
to live like he did, I was going to have to work, too. No free ride,
for Geoff.
That was okay because I had Ricky with me almost everyday after my
lesson down
at the repair shop and my driving lesson. The instructor always
arranged the route
so that I could stop by the Ortega house to see if Ricky wanted to come
up for the
afternoon, which he always wanted and what he wanted Mama nearly always
granted.
Talk about being spoiled.
We
were becoming very close, but I was holding back on turning our
deepening
friendship into something sexual. I wanted to love Ricky for who he
was, not
the length of his dick. I wanted to change. I didn’t want a roll in the
hay
just because the sun was shining. If I was going to lose him, as I
fully
expected to happen as soon as we consummated our relationship, I wanted
to know
I loved Ricky Ortega because he was the best friend a boy could have.
Ricky,
though, kept bugging me to move the sex we were having to the insertion
stage.
We were having sex, there is no denying that. Beautiful orgasms were
occurring,
but the little baby makers were dying out in the air while Ricky was
anxious to
have his dying inside me. So far, I’d been able to breach his
resistance to
bring him to climax before an attempt was made upon my body, but his
devious
nature kept the end of his sensitive tool probing ever closer at my own
points
of resistance.
We
were going to make love. That was inevitable. I just wanted to delay
the day
when I was going to grieve his passing. I hated losing boyfriends and I
was
certain I was going to lose Ricky.
“Well,
is it clean?” Ricky asked. Bert squatted down and looked behind the
left rear
tire.
“Yeah,
you did a great job on the outside,” he said. He opened the door and
took a
mirror out of his pocket. He ran it along the bottom of the door. “No,
dirt,
yet.”
“You
won’t find any dirt on the outside,” Ricky said. He was smiling at me
as his
hand kept reaching for my ass. He’d started that only in the last
couple days,
feeling my ass that is. Even during those frequent times when our naked
bodies
came together in my suite, his hands, fingers, lips, and tongue were
becoming
enamored with my ass. He hadn’t taken that ultimate step, but his
tongue was
getting ever closer to rimming me; and, I knew, if he did it to me, he
was
going to expect me to do the same. Our friendship had not, yet, reached
those
places where one of us might not want to go.
“Yes,
but what about the inside?” Bert looked at me and I smiled, but not too
convincingly. I hadn’t expected this degree of inspection. “You know,
Geoff,
Walter wasn’t kidding when he said this was going to be your car, but
you have
to earn it and earning it means keeping it spotless. This is an
investment to
Walter and he’ll take it away from you quicker than you might expect.
And, you
know what happens then?”
“No,”
I whispered, looking like a puppy who’d been caught peeing behind the
sofa.
“You
get a clunker and it won’t be parked inside the garage, but it, also,
won’t be
dripping oil all over the driveway, either. The things you’re learning
from
Reginald will be put to the test. Do you want to be an auto mechanic
the rest
of your life?”
“Well,
since you asked, yeah, I do.”
“What
are you saying?” Ricky gasped. Suddenly, he saw himself not riding down
Sunset
Boulevard in a 1958 300SL, but in a beat up 1949 Chevrolet Coupe.
“I’m
not interested in driving something I can’t get dirty and have to wash
every
time I take it out of the garage. I’ll be nervous as hell driving this
thing.
Uncle Walter will ream me a new asshole if some old lady dents it in
the
parking lot at Ralphs.”
“I’ll
rim your old asshole,” Ricky said, grabbing me.
“Will
you stop it!” Oh, god, I’d yelled at Ricky and his face showed it. I’d
never
seen him look so hurt. Worse, I wasn’t certain this was real or put on.
We
hadn’t known each other long enough for me to know when he was kidding
or
really meant it. When he walked away from Bert and I knew it was real.
“Can
you tell Uncle Walter I don’t want to drive the Roadster?” I asked.
“What
do you want?”
I
watched Ricky slowly disappear through the backyard gate and wanted to
go to
him, but I couldn’t leave Bert. That wasn’t done.
“Anything
at least ten years old. Domestic would be nice. It can look nice and
I’ll take
care of it like you want, but I don’t want something that’s worth more
than any
house I’ll ever buy. I don’t want the kids at my new high school to
think,
what?”
“That
you’re Walter Johnson’s spoiled nephew?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,
okay, but you may not like his answer. Now, you’d better go to Ricky.
Don’t
look at me like that. I’m not blind, you know.”
“Thank
you, and I’ll come back and clean the interior like you expect, okay?”
He
took me into his strong arms and hugged me. I’d found out Bert liked to
give
hugs. He also liked to kiss. They were the chaste kisses of family, but
they
were kisses all the same. Bert and I were becoming close, too.
“Just
to let you know, Walter doesn’t like being contradicted. He made a
decision,
but I’ll let him know how you feel. Maybe he’ll relent this once, but
don’t
push him. If he decides something about your life, you have to live
with his
decision or suffer the consequences, whatever they may be. And, trust
me, you
don’t want to suffer the consequences Walter comes up with. Now, go on,
shower
your boyfriend with kisses.”
He
held me tight against him one more time then kissed my cheek. He patted
my ass
when he released me.
“You
know, Geoff, you do have a nice ass.”
Ricky
wasn’t in the back. He wasn’t down by the pool. He wasn’t in my
bedroom. I
found him curled up on one of the black leather sofas in the lounge.
The TV was
on, but the sound was turned down to where I could hardly hear anything
except
Ricky’s soft breathing. I sat down by his feet and watched a tear
slowly
dribble out of his left eye and trickle down his nose.
“I’m
sorry I yelled at you,” I whispered. “I love you, you know. I guess it
was
bound to happen, eventually. I always fall in love with boys. It’s a
failing I
guess. For a long time I was a pushover for practically any boy who
came
walking down the street and had dick bigger than mine, which meant
practically
every boy in the world. I wanted to get to know you before we had real
sex. I
know you want to be doing more, but I want it to be special for you. I
never
got that chance. I’d been doing things long before I realized doing it
the
first time could be something special.”
I
didn’t expect an answer to my ramblings. I didn’t expect Ricky to pay
the least
amount of attention to me. I didn’t expect anything, anymore. I didn’t
expect
him to like me, anymore.
“But,
I want to let you now, right now. I do not like kissing or licking
another
guy’s ass.”
“Another
guy’s? You mean you can lick your own ass?”
He
was smiling when he sat up and wrapped his arms around me and held me
tight against
him. I shut my eyes and wrapped my own arms around him. I listened to
his soft
breathing and the occasional snort as he sucked snot back up into is
nose. He
was nibbling at my ear lobe. He knew that drove me wild.
“I
like your ass,” he whispered. “I might never get to go inside you, but
that
doesn’t mean I have to stop showing you how much I love your body,
every inch,
every patch of skin, every crevice, your whole body, Geoff. I will lick
and
kiss you from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet because
I’m
falling in love with you, too.”
His
mouth left my ear and his lips moved down my neck until his head was
resting on
my shoulder. “I don’t want you holding back, anymore. I want you,
Geoff. I
can’t help it.”
I
pulled myself out of his embrace and ran to my room where I flopped
down onto
my bed. (Yeah, for a moment, I congratulated myself for not tripping
over some
loose thread on the carpet.) I didn’t want to start crying, too, but I
couldn’t
stop the tears from coming into my eyes.
I
felt him get on the bed and lie down behind me. Ricky put an arm down
across my
chest and pulled us together. I didn’t know what was going to happen to
him,
but I knew he was going to go away from me. I’d lost too many
boyfriends to
some tragic end to believe Ricky Ortega was going to be any different.
“I
love you,” he whispered just before I fell asleep.
We
were in the library, another of those rooms the house seemed to offer
only on
closer examination. There were lots of books, of course, but also there
were
lots screenplays, stage plays, and manuscripts of one form or another.
This was
where Uncle Walter did his work when at home. You might say it was his
office,
except it was primarily a library and I was welcome to peruse its
shelves at my
leisure.
I was
here because I had been summoned. It was Saturday morning and I
should’ve been
out on a driving lesson, but Uncle Walter summoned me to the library.
He was
sitting behind his desk going over some paperwork of some sort. I could
see
right off they weren’t scripts. Quite possibly they weren’t my concern,
either,
but I was still getting used to Uncle Walter and I just didn’t know. He
was
wearing his at-home attire, blue jeans, a t-shirt, and bedroom
slippers. I was
standing on the other side of the desk.
I
fully expected to get chewed out for something. Being ignored after you
came in
was Uncle Walter’s way of telling you the shit was going to hit your
fan and
you’d damn well better have it pointed away from him.
“Do
you know what trust is?” Uncle Walter asked. He wasn’t looking at me.
If I
hadn’t seen his lips move or recognized his voice, it could’ve been
anyone in
the world asking that question.
“Having
confidence in someone,” I said. “I guess it’s like Doctor Randall
trusting me
not to do crazy shit anymore.”
“I
trusted you to become a good, safe driver who would take an interest in
the
vehicle I was giving you,” Uncle Walter said, still not looking at me.
This
was a good time to be insignificant, except I was standing directly in
front of
his desk. Worse yet, he wasn’t yelling. He was using a calm, quiet
voice, but I
knew he was pissed.
“I
built my business based on trust. I trust certain people to do certain
things
and I trust other people not to do certain things. I trust you to be a
good
person, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I trust you not to get involved
with
drugs or alcohol. You haven’t given me any reason, yet, to feel that
trust
isn’t warranted. What irks me right now is having Bertrand telling me
you do
not want to drive the Roadster because you’re afraid someone will
accidentally
dent it and I’ll blame you. That tells me you do not trust me.”
Aw,
shit! That’s what I would’ve said if I could, but I couldn’t. I had to
stand
there and take it, like the man I wasn’t. Only, I didn’t trust him. I
didn’t
know him, so how could I place any trust in him.
“Well?”
Aw,
shit! This was for real. I looked for a place to sit down, but
there
weren’t any other chairs in the room. There had been some earlier. I’d
seen
some in there, but they were all gone. He’d done that to make me feel
uncomfortable. I wanted to tell him it was working just as he planned,
but he
probably knew how I felt. He’d probably done this very thing before.
“Uncle
Walter, I, uh, don’t know you. You’re not the same person I remember
meeting
last year after Dad’s funeral. You seemed friendlier then. Now, down
here,
you’re all business.”
He
didn’t look up, but kept reading the papers he was holding.
“But,
I don’t think I deserve such a fine car. Who am I to drive such a
fancy, expensive
car? I’m a nobody.”
I’d
never heard papers fall with a thud, but I’d swear the papers Uncle
Walter had
been holding were thrown down onto the desk and made a horrendous
noise; or,
maybe it was my defense systems kicking in when Uncle Walter suddenly
got to
his feet and came over the desk toward me. Or, maybe it was the
sound of
his fist grabbing the collar of my t-shirt; or, the sound of my back
crashing
into a shelf full of books. Whatever noise it was, it had my full
attention on
top of what was directed toward Uncle Walter’s face directly in front
of mine.
Aw,
shit! This wasn’t getting any better and I couldn’t remember ever being
this
scared.
“Listen
to me boy, you’re not a nobody,” he said, breathing the words into my
face.
Then, just as suddenly, he let go and went over and sat on the edge of
his
desk. He looked down at the floor.
I
must have looked like a scared little boy, I certainly felt like one. I
wanted
to drop to the floor and wad myself up into a little, insignificant
ball, but
that was the old Geoff. I was grown up now.
“Uncle
Walter, I feel so out of place here. This house is so luxuriously huge,
half
the time I don’t know where I’m supposed to sit. Up until a few weeks
ago, I
was the only known queer in a high school full of straight kids. I
lived in a
psychiatric experiment; and, well, I’m fluent in so many foreign
languages
sometimes I can’t even keep them straight, but the point I’m trying to
make is
compared to you, I’m, god, I can’t say it. Can I?”
He
was still staring at the floor and he was breathing hard. Papers were
strewn
all over from him climbing over his desk, but he kept staring at the
floor.
“We’re
not talking about comparing me to you,” he said after what seemed to be
a long
while. “We’re talking about trust. I don’t naturally trust people.
Being queer,
you don’t trust most people. You just never know when someone will lash
out at
you or stab you in the back simply because they hate faggots. But, I
want to
trust you. I want you to drive the Roadster because, quite frankly,
you’re not
going to drive the Benz, Ferrari, or the Dussenburg. And, I’m not going
to buy
one of those cars nobodies drive. You’re living with me, now, and I
fully
expect you to start acting like you live in the lap of luxury. Come on,
let’s
go for a ride.”
He
walked out of the library and I followed. Passing through the laundry
room, he
took a set of keys from the key rack by the door. They were for the
Roadster. I
wasn’t feeling all that comfortable, but I knew it could only get
worse. He
opened the door to the third bay in the garage. He tossed me the keys.
Of
course, I didn’t catch them. Even if he’d handed them to me, I’d
probably have
dropped them. I bent down to pick them up and knew he was watching me.
Everyone
looked at uncoordinated Geoff when he didn’t make a catch. I stood up
and he
wasn’t there, he was sitting in the Roadster.
I
went over to the driver’s side and he said, “You drive.”
“But,
I …”
“Damn
it, Geoff, I said drive,” Uncle Walter said. He wasn’t looking at me.
I
got in and started it up. After waiting for a moment to collect my
thoughts, I
backed out of the garage. I hadn’t done much backing in my driving
lessons, so
I went real slow and overcorrected too much too many times. It’s a
wonder I got
the silly thing out of its hole.
Uncle
Walter looked over at me and slowly shook his head. He got out of the
Roadster
and walked over to my side.
“You
practice putting it into the garage and backing it out,” he said. “When
you can
do it without all that extra steering wheel action come and see me.”
He
walked away.
I
spent the rest of the morning backing out of the garage, then reversing
course
back inside. It took me awhile to figure out how the Roadster needed to
be
parked in its bay. Then I moved on to figuring out how the Roadster
needed to
be positioned once it was outside. Backing out wasn’t enough, I had to
be ready
to head down the driveway. Then I started backing further out so I
could get it
set up to pull into the garage.
By
lunchtime, I was ready as I was ever going to be to take Uncle Walter
for his
ride. I didn’t want to, though. I was still working on the trust stuff
he’d
brought up. I guess he was right to feel offended because I didn’t
trust him,
but I still didn’t feel I knew him well enough to know what to expect.
Trust is
a two-way street. If I didn’t trust him, how could I expect to do the
right
things to earn his trust in me?
Lunch
at the house was whatever you found and fixed yourself. Bertrand fixed
lunch
when Ruben, Julie and Ricky came over that first day, but after that he
let us
fend for ourselves. I guess he trusted us to clean up whatever mess we
made.
There
was a note on the refrigerator that Ricky had called and wanted me to
call him.
What a choice for a teenager, boyfriend or food. I made myself a ham
and
cheddar on rye, with lettuce, a couple slices of tomato, and a huge
dollop of
guacamole. Bert made the best guacamole in the world. I think it was
the diced
habeñeros.
I
sat down at the little desk in the kitchen and dialed Ricky’s number.
I’d never
been in a house with so many telephones. There was Uncle Walter’s work
phone in
the library, Bert’s in his office, mine in my bedroom, the kitchen
phone, and
another one in the foyer. What surprised me the most was they all had
different
numbers, but could call each other like an intercom. The one phone at
Ricky’s
house answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
It was Ruben. Time for a little fun.
In
my best female impersonation, which wasn’t all that good, I said,
“Hello, lover
boy, want me to come over and suck your cock?”
“Hey,
man, you fucking … Oh, shit! … Yes, Mama … No, Mama … I’m sorry, Mama …
(whispering) I’m gonna get you! You want Ricky?”
“Yeah,
that would be nice. Hey, Ruben, how’re you doing with Julie? Haven’t
seen you
guys in awhile.”
“Man,
like she’s so fuh, fuh, dang virginal, you know. She hardly lets me
kiss her.
Look, I got to go, okay? You coming to the party tonight?”
“What
party?”
“Ricky
will tell you all about it.”
It
wasn’t more than a moment when a friendlier voice came online, “Geoff?”
“Hey,
sweetie, how’s my favorite teen boy?”
“Hi.”
“Hi?
Is that all I get?”
“Mama
is right here … Yes, Mama, it’s Geoff … No, Mama … I know, Mama … Jeez!
You’d
think I didn’t know other people lived here. What are you doing?”
“I
was practicing backing out of the garage.”
“In
the Roadster? You could’ve called. I could’ve rode with you.”
“I
didn’t go anywhere, but back and forth.”
“But
you were in the Roadster. Hey? Why were you doing that?”
“I
did a shitty job of it with Uncle Walter in the car.”
“He
was going to take you out for a driving lesson in Roadster?”
“Yeah,
something like that.”
“Guess
who’s sixteen today?”
“You?”
“Yeah.”
“But,
I thought you just turned fifteen.”
“No,
I was fifteen for a year and now I get to be sixteen. Aren’t you going
to wish
me a happy birthday?”
“Happy
birthday.”
“You
don’t sound too happy about saying that. What’s wrong?”
“I
thought you were a year behind me in school.”
“No,
man, I’m going to be a junior, too. Are you coming to my birthday
party?”
“When?”
“Tonight
at my house. It’s just going to be Mama and Papa and Ruben and Julie.
You’ll
get to meet Papa.”
“I’ll
have to go get you a gift.”
“No
gifts. We don’t do gifts on birthdays, but you can give me something,
later.”
“You
know, now that we’re the same age, maybe I could find something you
might
like.”
“Great,
I’ll look forward to it. I’ll have Ruben come over and get you. It’ll
be about
four or so. Okay?”
“Yeah,
I’ll shower and wear something sexy.”
“Not
with my father here. He’s worse than Ruben. Are you in your bedroom?”
“No,
in the kitchen. Why?”
“I
was going to suggest we have phone sex.”
“I
thought Mama was there.”
“She’s
stepped out … No, Mama, I didn’t say that … WHACK! … Ow! I gotta go …
I’m
sorry, Mama.”
And,
the phone went dead.
“I’d
like to apologize for the way I’ve been acting,” I said. Uncle Walter
was back
in the library working and, not too surprising, all the extra chairs
were back
in their places. I sat down in my favorite, the red leather wingback.
“I want
this to work, but I guess I’m going about it all wrong.”
“You’re
a teenager,” Uncle Walter said, looking up from a script. “All
teenagers go
about it all wrong. That’s what makes growing up so interesting. The
ones that
learn from their mistakes go on to greater things. The ones that don’t
usually
die or end up getting some girl pregnant, furthering their incompetence
onto
the next generation. The trick is to get them to flameout before they
have a
chance to breed.”
“Well,
you’ll never catch me breeding,” I said. He smiled. “I wanted to let
you know
I’m going to a birthday party tonight, so I won’t be home for supper.”
“Anyone
I know?”
“Yeah,
Ricky is sixteen today.”
“I
thought he was a year younger than you.”
“So
did I.”
“Do
you need some money to get him a gift?”
“He
told me they don’t do birthday gifts in his family.”
“Fuck
that! You have Bertrand run you down to get him a birthday card and
I’ll put in
a little something.”
Well,
I hoped it was going to be little, but suspected Uncle Walter’s idea of
a
“little something” would be a check for sixteen hundred dollars.
“Do
you think you could do me a favor?” Uncle Walter asked. He looked
pensive.
“This new movie I’m putting together needs an older teenager and, well,
Brian
DeBree isn’t quite what a lot of us had in mind. I’d like to get a look
at
Ruben Ortega, again. Will you ask him to call my office?”
“Sure,
I’d be glad to.”
“Good.
Thank you.”
Dismissed,
again.
I
went to find Bertrand.
I
wanted to look good for Ricky, but not too good. I put on a pair of
khakis, my
best madras shirt, and my black penny loafers. I stood in front of the
mirror
in my bedroom. Snazzy, I said to myself! The front doorbell gave off
its
distinctive bing bong ding dong, twiddle dee dee. Making sure I had the
envelope with the birthday card and Uncle Walter’s gift, I hurried to
see if it
was Ruben.
After
not tripping down the Busby Berkeley staircase, I opened the door to
see Ruben
in a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black high-tops.
“Oh,
honey! You’ve come for your blowjob!”
“Cut
the crap, faggot!” He wasn’t smiling. Not a good sign. “I don’t know
why I have
to be your chauffeur. You’ve got plenty of faggots in this house to
ferry you
around town.”
“If
it’s too much for you, I can call a cab,” I said. I stopped, while he
continued
down the walk to his car. Julie was sitting shotgun, not her usual
place,
closer to Ruben’s thigh.
“Come
on, faggot,” Ruben said. “We ain’t got all day.”
“Is
there something wrong?” I asked. I hadn’t moved. I definitely wasn’t
interested
in getting in his car and listening to his crap.
“Are
you coming with me? Or, are you going to have a faggot attack and start
crying?”
“I’ll
call a cab,” I said. I turned around and walked back toward the house.
I got
maybe ten steps before I felt his hand grab my shoulder. I tried to
shake it
off and continue on, but he grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. When I
turned
around, Ruben looked like a little boy who’d lost his favorite toy.
“Look,
Geoff, I’m sorry, but everyone’s been on my case today. Too bad you’re
not
serious about that blowjob, I could use a little attention right now.”
“What
makes you think I’m not serious?” I stared into his eyes. It didn’t
take him
long to look away.
“But,
you’re Ricky’s friend.”
“Yes
I am, but you’re his brother. I have no intention of telling him, but
if you
want to step inside, I might be able to relieve some of that tension.”
He
stared at me for a moment, then turned and yelled at Julie, “Geoff
forgot
something, we’ll be back in a minute.”
She
waved.
“You
know, man, this isn’t right,” Ruben said as I led the way up the Busby
Berkeley
staircase. “I mean, you’re Ricky’s buddy and all, you know?”
“Yeah,
that I am, but you’re his brother and I have to be nice to you, too,” I
said.
What I wanted to know, most of all, was this the new Geoff? Was this
what I’d
become after psychiatric treatment? He was Ricky’s brother, but wasn’t
I
cheating on Ricky somehow? On the other hand, he was a boy with a dick
besides
being Ricky’s brother. I had hopes of similar equipment. “Come on, in
here.”
He
followed me into my bedroom and I promptly locked the door. Ruben
looked at me
like he couldn’t believe this was happening. I wondered if I looked the
same
way to him, but we didn’t have a lot of time so I dropped to my knees
and was
undoing his jeans. I wanted access to everything so I pulled down the
jeans and
briefs; except, the briefs were what I expected, nor what was
underneath.
“Ruben,
you’ve been holding out on us,” I said. What I expected to be white
briefs
turned out to be pink panties with frilly white lace trim. Underneath
was
cleanly shaved skin. The average, unremarkable dick swelled before I
could
touch it. Cupping the hairless balls with one hand, I put the other
behind and
grabbed a cheek as smooth as a baby. Almost as soon as my mouth sank
over the
head he was shooting.
“You’ve
got a bit of explaining, young man,” I said as Ruben put himself back
together.
“I
made it to Letterman’s Club at school,” Ruben said. “All this is a
bunch of
initiation shit. I have to be like this until we win our first game.”
“You
came kind of quick, too.”
“Coach
says we need to stop jacking off so much and channel that energy into
being
better players.”
“And,
you believed him?”
“Yeah,
he’s our coach. We have to believe him.”
“Well,
the next time you feel a little overwhelmed, come see me.”
“I
don’t know, man, this is just too weird. What’s Ricky going to say?”
“Are
you going to tell him?”
“No,
but he’s my brother. He’ll know something is up if he asks me.”
“I’ll
tell him tonight, okay?”
“You
will?”
“Yeah,
I guess I kind of have to,” I said as we finally made out the front
door. Down
in Ruben’s car, Julie looked a little pissed from having to wait, but
then we
weren’t gone all that long. “Oh, yeah, one other thing, my uncle wants
you to
call his office. He wants you on his next movie.”
“I
ain’t having none of that queer shit, man,” Ruben said, stopping about
twenty
feet from his car. He turned to face me. “The last time those faggots
were all
over me and I was only fifteen, you know. I’ll call, but he’s got to
keep them
faggots away from me or I ain’t doing no more of his movies.”
“How
about if I talk to him about that,” I said. Somehow it didn’t surprise
me Uncle
Walter had queers working for him, but to hit on a fifteen year old
boy, that was
too weird; on the other hand, maybe I didn’t know who was doing the
hitting
or who didn’t know he was so damned cute. I had to admit it, Ruben was
a good
looking young man. Adolescence hadn’t done him wrong at all, not like
Brian
DeBree; and, if the last few minutes were any indication to Ruben’s
willingness
to stick his dick in any mouth that came along, maybe someone was just
a little
too forceful. I’d definitely have to talk to Uncle Walter.
“Hi,
Julie,” I said when we got to the car.
“Oh,
hi, Geoff, you guys certainly took your time,” Julie said, scooting
over so I
could get in the backseat.
“Ruben
wanted a blowjob, but I’m surprised it didn’t take as long as it did,”
I
whispered, then winked. She looked at me like she believed me. I smiled
and nodded.
She smiled like she knew I knew she was using Ruben for cover. “It’s
okay, I
understand.”
“Thanks,”
she said. “I should be dating you. I’d certainly be a lot safer.”
“What
are you two talking about?” Ruben asked as he put the key in the
ignition.
“You,
who else would we be talking about?” Julie said, scooting over to him
and
kissing him on the cheek.
I
was definitely overdressed for the occasion. Even Ricky was in blue
jeans, but
I was the guest, the guy from up in the hills where everyone wore fancy
clothes, not that I was wearing anything fancy. Ricky’s dad, Papa, was
big,
warehouseman big with lots of upper body muscles from throwing around a
lot of
shit. The guy was definitely working out for some reason.
“Papa,
this is Geoff, my friend,” Ricky said. Papa was sitting in his chair.
Husbands
always have a chair that is theirs. Usually it’s pointed directly at
the tube
and Papa’s was not exception. He had the requisite beer, cigarettes,
and an
attitude.
“Hi,
Geoff, so you’re the fucking faggot who is dating my fucking faggot
son,” Papa
said standing up and taking my hand in his. His grip was firm and I
hoped my
firm grip was acceptable. He certainly didn’t try to squish my hand
like a lot
of guys with too much muscle fiber in their brains often tried to do.
“Nice
to meet you, sir,” I said. I did consider a snappy, wiseass reply to
his faggot
remark, but figured why should I ruin Ricky’s day anymore than his
father was
obviously trying.
“So
tell me, Geoffy, are you letting Ricky stuff you or is it the other way
around?” In the corner of my eye, I saw Ricky shake his head. He’d said
that
his dad was worse than Ruben and now I knew what he was talking about.
“Sir,
if you don’t mind, I’d stopped answering to Geoffy a number of years
ago.” I
looked him straight in the eyes. I wasn’t in the mood to have this
bastard,
even though he was Ricky’s dad, fuck with my mind.
“Strange,
you certainly look like a Geoffy, a fucking faggot Geoffy who lets my
son shove
his little faggot weenie up your loose faggot ass. I bet you moan like
hell,
too. ‘Oh, oh, Ricky let me have your little faggot weenie.’” He was
staring
straight at me.
“No,
sir, we haven’t had sex, yet.” I wanted to punch him in the nose, which
was a
strange thought considering I wasn’t the kind of person to punch a guy
in the
nose. Grabs his nuts maybe, but no punching.
“Come
on, Geoff, let’s go to my room,” Ricky said grabbing my forearm and
pulling me
away from Papa.
We
hadn’t gone three feet when Papa dad said, “I’d cut your fucking nuts
off if
you weren’t my son, and that goes for your fucking faggot boyfriend,
too.”
“Come
on, Geoff, hurry up,” Ricky said. He practically pulled me toward the
hallway,
but we weren’t quick enough.
“Who
the fuck are you?” Ricky’s Mama yelled as she came out of the kitchen.
Ricky
kept pulling at my arm, but I turned to see her clobber her husband
upside the
head with a wooden meat tenderizer.
By
the time Ricky shut his bedroom door the yelling and screaming filled
the
house. Ricky was visibly shaking and I helped him to sit down on his
bed where
I put my arms around him and held him against me. I felt him start to
cry, but
continued to hold him.
“When
he’s finished with her he’ll come in here and start beating on me,”
Ricky
sobbed.
“Surely
he won’t do anything with me here,” I said, wincing at the sound of a
dull thud
that shook the house. I imagined Mama being thrown against a wall, but
maybe it
was just a piece of furniture. I hoped it was a piece of furniture
because the
yelling and screaming continued unabated.
“He’s
crazy. He doesn’t care if you’re here. You’ll be lucky to come out of
this
alive.”
After
living in a house full of crazies, I still wasn’t too certain I wanted
to be
around this crazy when he came for Ricky and found me, too. The thought
of being
on the receiving end of fists turned my stomach into a bowl full of
slithering
slimy eels. I had no intention of staying and taking a beating if there
was a
chance I could escape.
“Ricky,
I want you to pack some clothes,” I said, getting to my feet. Things
were being
thrown in the living room. I hoped one of them was not Mama. “We’re
getting out
of here. You can stay at my house until things cool down here.”
Ricky
looked at me as if I was some kind of fool. I think he really wanted to
stay
and get beaten up by his father. I began to wonder how many times he’d
been on
the receiving end of that crazy man’s fists.
“Come
on, hurry up, he’ll be in here any minute,” I said. I went to his
dresser and opened
drawers looking clothes.
“Hey,
you guys, I’m sneaking Julie out of here,” Ruben said as he came into
the room.
“You want to come with me.”
“I’m
trying to get him to pack a few things so he can stay with me,” I said
as I
pulled out underwear, socks, t-shirts, jeans, and sweatshirt. “But he
just sits
there. Look at him. Is there a bag or suitcase I can put these in?”
“Yeah,
he has a duffel bag in his closet. Come on, Ricky, we got to go. Papa
is going
to be real pissed once he gets done with Mama. You don’t want to be
here this
time.”
This
time? Ricky was in a daze, shock more likely. He was more than willing
to sit
right where he was and take his beating even though he hadn’t done
anything to
cause it, except preferring boys to girls. Well, I was going and I was
taking
him with me.
I
found the duffel bag and started filling it with the clothes I’d
already found
plus some button down shirts hanging in the closet, a pair of dress
slacks, and
the snazziest pair of black wingtips I’d ever seen. Ruben had Ricky
standing,
but there still wasn’t anyone in the control room. The duffel bag was
heavy,
but since I stuffed it, I figured it was my job to carry it since Ricky
wasn’t
in any condition to help. Ruben just sort of aimed him toward the
window. After
he opened it I tossed out the duffel bag and climbed through so I could
help
Ricky. He went through the motions, but his expression showed no sign
of any
sort of understanding. His eyes were as blank as a cartoon character’s,
black
dots on a empty face.
We
all made it out to Ruben’s car without the crazy man noticing, but as
we were
backing out of the driveway, I could see him through the living room
window
pounding his fist into Mama’s face. There was blood splattered
everywhere. I
could imagine what he’d do to me and didn’t want to think about it. I
don’t
know if anyone else saw what I did, and I didn’t let on I’d seen
anything.
Ruben
took Julie home first then headed up into the hills to Uncle Walter’s
house.
All of us got out and went in through the back gate. Uncle Walter was
out on
the patio with Bertrand and he got up when he saw Ruben. I don’t know
if it was
a good time, but I nudged Ruben over towards the patio.
“Go
on, you might as well get it over,” I said in a low voice. “And try to
remember
not to call either of them faggots. We don’t like that, you know. But,
you need
to tell him about your concerns on the set. Okay?”
“Yeah,
I guess I should,” Ruben said. He looked worried and I suppose that was
understandable considering what was happening at his house. “What about
Ricky?”
“We’ll
wait for you in the kitchen. Okay?”
Ricky
simply stood beside us not saying a word, not looking at anything in
particular. He followed me into the house as if he was on one of the
psycho
drugs Doctor Randall sometimes gave us. I had a feeling he was going to
lose it
at any moment and hoped we’d be up in my room when that happened. I
still
hadn’t figured out how I was going to tell Ricky about giving Ruben a
blowjob,
but I knew I had to tell him. I hoped it wasn’t going to make matters
worse.
When
I saw Bert coming toward the house, I parked Ricky on a barstool. “I’ll
be back
in a moment, okay? Will you be alright for a minute?”
He
nodded his head.
“What’s
going on?” Bert asked when I intercepted him at the door.
“Ricky’s
parents are fighting and I thought it best if he stays with us for a
couple
days. Is that okay?”
“Sure,
you pretty much know the routine around here. Is he okay?”
“No,
not really. It was pretty bad back there. I guess this isn’t the first
time and
from what Ricky was saying, his father is a real asshole sometimes.”
“If
you need anything, you let me know.”
I
could see he wanted to kiss me, but I turned away. I felt his hand on
my bare
forearm, but I shook it off. Now was not the time for Ricky to see me
kissing
Bert, even if it didn’t have anything to do with sex, mostly.
Even
though he needed to get back to their house, Ruben helped me get Ricky
upstairs. He wasn’t talking much, but I guess he laid the law down on
Uncle
Walter. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Uncle Walter agreed to all his
demands. He
said they won’t start shooting until after the first of the year so
he’d still
be able to play football and hopefully be noticed by the scouts from
UCLA.
Ruben had his heart set on playing football at UCLA.
Ricky
stayed in his stupor until Ruben finally left, but even then his
demeanor was
very subdued. He simply sat on the side of my bed and stared at his
knees,
while I put his things in two empty drawers in one of my dressers and
put the
hang-ups in the closet. I felt sorry for him. What a birthday present
from his
parents, “Congratulations on reaching the good ol’ one-six, but by the
way
we’re going to beat the crap out of each other.”
I
wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t know what to do, or what would
work. With
all of my recent experience with depression, being committed to the
county
psych ward and living in a psychiatric group home, I should have been
able to
sit right down beside my best friend and work a magic spell over him
making him
smile again, but I couldn’t do anything except sit down beside him and
try to
make him feel I cared. I knew I couldn’t say, “I understand what you’re
going
through,” because I didn’t know what he was feeling. He was obviously
hurting
deep inside, but I couldn’t begin to guess what was going through his
mind.
And,
then my phone rang.
“Hello?”
“This
is Ruben. Tell Ricky Mama is in the hospital. Tell him she’s okay.
She’s not,
but don’t tell him that.”
“And,
your father?”
“He’s
in jail. The neighbors called the police when Papa threw Mama out the
living room
window.”
“Shit!”
“No
kidding. Anyway, I think Papa’s going to be in there quite a while this
time.”
“This
time?”
“Yeah,
this has happened before, but he’s always gotten out on probation real
quick. Tell
Ricky I’ll let him know how things are. I guess he’s going to need
somewhere to
stay until Mama gets out of the hospital.”
“What
about you?”
“I’ll
stay here and get things cleaned up. It isn’t the first time I’ve had
to do
this. Tell Ricky I love him.”
“Why
don’t you?”
“No,
man, we’d both end up crying.”
And,
he hung-up.
“Ruben?”
Ricky asked. He hadn’t moved through the entire conversation.
“Yeah.”
“Mama’s
in the hospital and Papa’s in jail. The only difference this time is
that I’m
not there with her. I guess this is what I get for being a faggot.
Happy
birthday faggot, I’m not going to beat the crap out of you.”
“Don’t
say that! This has nothing to do with you.” I sat down beside him and
tried to
put my arms around him, but he pushed me away. He was weeping now.
Tears were
dribbling down his face. Suddenly, I knew what had to be done.
“Come
on, let’s get those clothes off,” I said. He looked at me, his lower
lip
trembling like a little kid who was going to fall apart and start
crying
because we weren’t going to Disneyland like we promised for the past
month. “I
think you
need a good cry. Come on, I’ll do your shoes and socks. You take care
of the
shirt. Come on, Ricky, you need to lie down for awhile.”
I
knelt down on the floor and removed his shoes and socks. Then undid his
belt,
unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled the zipper down. I thought of what
happened
early in this room when I’d done the same to Ruben; only this time
there wasn’t
going to be a blowjob. He stood up and I pulled his pants down and
helped him
step out of them. He looked so cute standing there in his tight, white
briefs
almost blubbering from what occurred less than an hour ago.
“Do
you want my teddy bear?” I asked. It arrived a few days earlier along
with the
Corsair, which I had displayed on top of my chest of drawers. I slapped
the
bear a couple times to make sure there wasn’t any dust on it and handed
it to
Ricky. He kind of held it by one arm. “He likes to be hugged. Go on,
it’s only
a teddy bear. Okay, get into bed.”
I
pulled back the covers and helped him get comfortable on his side with
my teddy
bear up close to his chest. He was very close to losing it. I had only
moments
to get it right.
“I’ll
come back in a little while,” I said bending down to kiss his tear
stained
cheek. “Come on, Ricky, hold the teddy bear close. He can’t help you if
you
don’t hold him tight against you. Yeah, just like that. Now, shut your
eyes and
remember this will pass. Things will get better. And, Ricky, please
don’t stop
the tears, let them carry your sadness away.”
I
pulled the sheet over him and walked away, toward the door. He was
loudly
bawling by the time I held the door open long enough to step into the
hall. I
closed it quietly and went down to the kitchen to see if there was
anything to
eat.