Date: Wed, 19 Aug 2009 19:38:04 +0000
From: jonathon megerian <jonnymanmeg@hotmail.com>
Subject: the president's son/chapter 2

Alright, so a few things: First, thank you to everyone that wrote me
emails. They were really nice and encouraging, and I really appreciate
them. That said, don't hold your breath for a response, because I'm
notoriously bad at getting back to people. Also, I'm extremely busy right
now, because I'm about to move back to school for the semester. So, not to
sound like a dick, if you write to say you like the story, I probably won't
write you back as of right now, but please don't stop! I read them all and
really, really like getting them, so don't take it personally :) Also, if
you ask when the next chapter comes out, I really can't answer because I
honestly don't know. Like I said, this is a crazy time for me, and it will
only get crazier these next few weeks as I get back into the flow of
college life and classes and whatnot. So, just assume the answer is,
whenever I can. Finally, please do not email me to chastise me for things
involving marijuana or tobacco. I smoke cigarettes, and I smoke pot, and
I'm far from being ashamed of it. So if you don't like it, you don't have
to read. Although this story is obviously fictional, 99% of what I say
about myself and my family is true. So expect pot to come up again in the
story! It seems like most of you guys that have emailed me have been pretty
chill about it, which is awesome. In fact, if you want to email me in
support of marijuana, by all means go for it...it's bound to put a smile on
my face. Thanks!!!



The next day, I woke up at 11:00 a.m. and walked groggily into the kitchen.
As I was walking, I heard a familiar song playing, but I couldn't quite put
my finger on it due to my lack of lucidity in the mornings. As soon as I
saw my stepfather's shit-eating grin and he sat by his computer (clearly
the source of the music), I caught on. He was playing Hail to the Chief
(that song they play when the president enters a room).

"Oh well done dick-face. Have a good laugh about this," I sniped
sarcastically. My stepdad just sat there laughing his ass off, as did my
mom and sister. My brother was around but he didn't know what was going
on. He laughed anyway though, so as not to feel left out.

"Okay, first of all, shut up Eric, you don't even know what you're laughing
about. Second of all, I seriously don't want you guys to make a big deal
about this, because it's really not. Like I said, I'm sure nothing will
come of it," I said, trying to calm them down so they'd stop embarrassing
me.

"Honey, next time you see him, could you get a picture of him with you? I
want something to show to my friends when I tell them that my son...Oh my
God, I'm kvelling (Yiddish word that means something like "bursting with
pride")...my son...Laker's son...this is amazing!" my mother gushed.

"Oh for Christ's sake. I knew this would happen. I was coming home last
night, and I thought to myself, should I tell them or not? Then I said to
myself, Jon, you know that if you tell them, they are just going to give
you tons of shit about it. You'd be stupid to tell them. And so what do I
do? I come home and, against my better judgment, tell you jackasses, and I
wake up to Hail to the Chief. I never listen to myself. Ugh."

"This is your own fault. You obviously should not have told them. How did
you not know they'd do something exactly like this?" Danielle asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm stupid. I got it, thanks," I retorted, starting to become
a little irritated by the conversation. I'm a complete bitch in the
mornings, and I legitimately need a good twenty minutes of absolute silence
to get out of the terrible mood I wake up in.

About ten or fifteen minutes later, I heard my phone beep from my room,
and, knowing I had a text, I moseyed on over to go look at it. I picked the
phone up and brought it back out to the kitchen and sat by my cereal and
picked up a spoonful as I read it. It was from Brent!

Had a great time last night...when do you wanna meet up again?

The spoon fell out of my hand and splashed into the cereal as the
realization that I was going on a date with the boy who would undoubtedly
be the next president's son hit me once again. Danielle looked up and gave
me a questioning look. I waved her over subtly, and she came and looked at
the text.

"Jesus Christ, you're not lying...so what are you gunna say back?"

"I don't know. I mean I'll obviously go on another date. Damn, this shit is
intimidating. This kid is totally out of my league. I don't know why he
seems so keen on going out with me."

"First of all, don't say keen—you sound like an arrogant douche when you
say that," Danielle quipped. I rolled my eyes and she continued: "Second of
all, you should stop with this low self-esteem crap. You're a total
catch. You know I'd tell you if I thought you weren't." That was true, she
would definitely tell me if I was ugly.

I decided to text him back and ask him if he wanted to go to the mall later
today. He replied that he was down for that, and so I took a shower and got
ready. I spent about thirty minutes trying to figure out what to wear. I
decided on my favorite outfit" faded, extremely light blue jeans with a few
rips in them and a button-down shirt from Abercrombie. It was thinly
striped with light green, blue, and white stripes and was the one shirt
that even I thought I looked sexy in. I put some cologne on and headed out
the door, ignoring the snide remarks coming from my various asshole family
members.

I got to the mall and went into the Starbucks where we agreed to meet up. I
saw him sitting at the table in another hooded sweatshirt with his head
practically in his coffee. He looked like a man who has been totally
defeated by life. I sat down next to him and he looked up and smiled that
killer smile, his eyes boring into my soul (it seemed).

"Hey," I said awkwardly. He, on the other hand, seemed much more
comfortable around me.

"Hey yourself. I'm really glad you wanted to come."

"Um, of course I wanted to come! It wasn't just you who had a good time
last night," I said, immediately blushing when I realized what I said. He
blushed a little too and smiled.

"You want a coffee?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. I'm gunna get a café mocha. I'll be right back."

"Wait, let me get it for you, my treat...think of it as a thank you for
coming out here," he offered.

"Oh no you don't. You pulled that line on me last night, remember? I'm a
big boy, I can pay for myself. Besides, I don't feel right making you keep
paying for my shit. In fact, I'm going to buy you something today. And
don't even try to stop me!" We both laughed as he sat back and waited for
me to come back with my drink. When I came back, we started up with the
usual first/second date basic conversation that I usually hated. But with
him, it was like I was doing it for the first time, and all of the sudden
the part of dates that I hated the most—that dreadful, boring
introductory conversation that you have to have but never really want
to—became extremely enjoyable and almost, in a weird way, romantic.

"So, Jonathan, where do you go to school and what's your major?"

"Well, I'm a freshman at Brandeis. I'm actually double-majoring in history
and English."

"Oh wow. So, do you like have an idea about what you want to do?" he asked.

"Well, I love European history, and, ideally, I'll go to grad school to get
my PhD and then hopefully teach at a University. But I also play piano and
have been debating whether or not to get into performing for a while
now. My teacher really wants me to, and so do my parents, but I'm not
really sure. So what about you? Your life has got to be pretty overwhelming
about now," I said laughing lightly. He laughed back a little.

"Yeah, ain't that the truth. Don't get me wrong, I love politics, and I'm
excited about maybe living in the White House, but I can't even tell you
how overwhelming it is. There are constantly enormous amounts of people
running around the house. The phone is always ringing, there're meetings
all the time, the press, cameras, news reports, secret service following
you, the list goes on and on. That's why sometimes I just like to get away
and unload for a while."

"Yeah I hear that. Speaking of Secret Service, where is your fan club
today?"

He laughed and said, "Oh they're here...they always follow me. Sometimes
when I'm in a really public place and don't want to be recognized, they
dress up as everyday people. You can see a few of them sitting at tables in
here watching the environment. You can tell because they have those
earpieces in."

I looked around, and sure enough there were men scattered around with
little earpieces, surreptitiously scanning the crowd for signs of danger
and threats.

"Oh damn, you're right I see them. So if they just dressed up regularly do
you think people would know it was you?"

"Oh yeah. It always catches me off-guard, but lots of people recognize me
instantly and start swarming around me, trying to take my picture or talk
to me. Then it gets embarrassing because the agents start getting panicked
that I'll be hurt or some crazy ass terrorist will slip in, and they form
like this ring around me. It's so embarrassing. That's why I hardly go out
anymore. My dad and mom are used to it, but I just really can't stand it."

I felt really bad for him, and could tell from his words and his face that
this life was really taking its toll on him. I put myself in his shoes and
realized that I too would hate all the constant attention and
protection. Deciding to try to take his mind off of the topic, I asked him
if he wanted to go and walk around with me. He looked a little unsure, but
I promised him we'd be careful and that if we stayed close together, no one
would recognize him. He seemed to like that idea and so we headed up and
left. I turned around to see the agents slowly following us and thought
again how weird it was. He, on the other hand, didn't turn around,
obviously already knowing that they were following him.

"So why do you have such a high amount of tails? I didn't realize that the
kids of presidential candidates had such high security."

"Well," he said, "they usually don't, but my mom and I are considered `high
risk' people, due to my sexuality and her open support of the gay
community. There are a lot of people who don't like me being out." He said
that very seriously, and I could tell that he had probably been threatened
before.

We continued strolling along close together. He had his hood on, but as we
continued making small talk and getting to know each other, he'd look up at
me and smile, and I was able to see his beautiful face. As we were walking,
his hand kept bumping into mine. I became increasingly aware of it, and I
became overtaken by the urge to hold it tightly. I let my finger catch on
one of his, playing it off as if it were an accident that happened
naturally due to the swinging of our arms while walking. He looked down and
decided to cut the bullshit: he took my hand fully in his and interlocked
our fingers in an instant. Surprisingly, it was not awkward at all. Maybe
it was because it just felt so right. His thumb rubbed my handed, and I did
the same to his.

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said wearily, "but even though we don't
know each other well, something about being with you feels really...I don't
know...right," he said, almost posed as a question to test my reaction.

"Don't worry about it. I feel exactly the same way. Since I saw you last
night I've just really wanted to touch you. Not like, sexually—well, not
like, not sexually—but like holding hands and stuff." I was stumbling
over my own words like never before. I had always considered myself to be a
relatively articulate person, but that was all going to shit while I was
around him. He smiled in response and we just kept walking. The rest of the
afternoon was like that. We walked and talked, and for about two hours, we
didn't let go of each other's hands once. We decided to head back over to
Starbucks so I could buy him a coffee. We got our drinks and noticed there
was one big armchair open, but not two. He started walking toward it and
sat down on it. I stared at him, thinking that it was pretty rude. However,
he just rolled his eyes playfully and motioned for me to come and sit...on
him! I was so fucking excited I couldn't contain myself. I practically ran
over and gently lowered myself onto his lap. I was instantly hard as a rock
as I leaned my head back against his shoulder. He gently draped his free
arm over my shoulder and onto my chest. I breathed deeply and smiled a
huge, stupid smile and closed my eyes. We sat there like that drinking our
coffees, trying to get as close to each other as possible.

I craned my neck around and looked at him. He smiled at me. "You're so
cute," he said bashfully, blushing right after and looking down. I smiled
widely and said "So are you buddy." I stared into his eyes once he lifted
his head back up, and I lost my ability to hear or see the rest of the
café. I leaned close to him and whispered, "I'm sorry, but I really, really
need to kiss you right now." He smiled and leaned in and our lips touched
lightly, his lower lip place slightly below my lower lip. We held our lips
there for a few second before pulling away. He smiled at me and quickly
leaned in for another quick kiss. Meanwhile, I was so close to shooting in
my pants that I pulled back and breathed deeply, trying to calm myself
down. He smiled, knowing what was going on with me. That's when I realized
that I could distinctly feel his hardon on my leg. I smiled at him and
shook my ass a little to toy with him. He grunted a little and smiled. "Oh
man, do not do that. It's dangerous right now...I don't have a change of
pants on me," he said jokingly. We both burst out laughing at our mutual
predicaments.

"Alright," he said, "let's change the subject." We both laughed. "You said
you play piano? Tell me about that. I've always wanted to play an
instrument."

"Well," I said, "I've played for a while now, and I guess I'm pretty good
at it. My teacher really wants to put me in contact with some guy from the
Boston Symphony Orchestra. She thinks I have a lot of potential to be a
performer, but I really don't think I'm as good as she does. We'll see
though. Either way, I love playing. It relaxes me and I love classical
music, so it's a great hobby for me."

"Have you ever performed before?"

"Um, yeah once or twice at the music school where I used to take lessons."

"Well, how was the crowd's reaction. You can tell from that whether or not
you're as good as she says."

I blushed and mumbled something, not wanting to answer the question to
avoid sounding arrogant. But he forced it out of me: "come on, tell me."

"Well, I always got standing ovations and lots of applause. People would
come up to me after and tell me I was amazing and that I should perform
more and all that shit." I blushed and looked down, embarrassed about
talking about myself.

"Wow, that's awesome. I'd love to hear you play sometime, even though I
don't really know anything about classical music."

"Oh, well we'll just have to change that! If there is one thing I could
talk about for hours on end, it's classical music. I love it so much. It's
like I can literally feel the music for some reason."

"You'll have to show me some good songs to listen to...is that what you
call them, songs?" he asked, genuinely interested. I find it so hot when
people want to talk about classical music. I know I'm strange!

"Um, well they are usually called pieces or compositions, but I knew what
you meant," I grinned. I looked at my cell phone to check the time and
jumped up after seeing what time it was.

"Oh shit, um, I actually have to go to my piano lesson right now. I haven't
seen my teacher in a few months and she'll be sad if I miss my lesson."

"Oh no problem. I'd love to see a lesson some time. I think it'd be really
interesting to see like the learning process involved in music," he said. I
couldn't help but blurt out: "well you can come to this one if you want." I
felt bad after saying that, because I knew it was a bit too presumptuous
this early on in our "relationship." He instantly diffused my shame by
smiling that killer smile of his. "I was hoping you'd say that! I really
want to see you play!" I smiled back and we headed out.

At the parking lot, he walked me to my car and I handed him the address of
my teacher's house. I watched as he got into his limo and headed out of the
parking lot. I got in the car and called my teacher as I pulled out of the
parking lot. I realized that I should have asked her first, as I was now
taking lessons at her house, not the music school. When she answered, I
assured her that I was on my way and asked her if I could bring a friend
who wanted to watch me play. She said of course (I knew she would...she's
the nicest lady).

A few minutes later we pulled up to her house. Brent's limo was already
there, and when I got out of the car, he and the agents got out as well. I
smiled at him and said an awkward hello as we headed to the door. I rang
the doorbell and my teacher came to the door, happy to see me. She looked
over at Brent and said, "so who's your friend?" Brent looked up at her, and
her jaw dropped. "Oh my god! Is that...are you...Brent Laker?" I grinned
widely, almost proud to be walking around with him. He smiled and said that
he was and told her it was a pleasure to meet her. He had the best
manners. The more I got to know him, the nicer I realized he was. After the
few minutes of gasping and shock that I would come to get used to, she
invited us in. I sat down at the piano. She siddled up next to me and
whispered in my ear "you'll need to fill me in on all the details later!" I
smiled at her and assured her I would. Brent took a seat near us as I
opened up my sheet music.

"So, what are you going to show me today," she asked, taking a notebook out
to write down comments in.

"Liebestraum No. 3," I said. Liebestraum, by Franz Liszt, is a piano piece
that I believe could easily be the best work ever written for piano. It's
pretty difficult though, and people often interpret it wrong. I've spent a
good deal of time mulling over its meaning in my head, aspiring to get into
Liszt's mind and play it as he would have wanted it played.

I put my fingers down on the keys and began to play. I kept my eyes closed
the whole time. At this point, I knew where all the keys were, so I always
closed my eyes when I played so that I could focus intently on the sound
and capture the nuances to the music that I visualized in my mind's eye. I
became more and more passionate as the piece progressed. By the time I was
done, I was rather pleased with myself, as I had avoided making a single
error. It's always hard not to slip up once or twice.

I opened my eyes and saw my teacher staring at me, with what seemed to be a
hint of a tear in her eye. She closed her notebook slowly and shook her
head. I immediately panicked that I had done a terrible job and lowered my
head in shame.

"This is a very sad day for me," she said solemnly, smiling sadly.

"Why?" I asked nervously.

"I can't be your teacher anymore. There is nothing left for me to teach
you. You're actually better than me!"

"Bullshit," I blurted out. I apologized for swearing and continued: "You're
the most amazing pianist I know and I'll never be able to stop learning
from you."

"Jonathan, I don't think you understand what an amazing interpretation of
that piece was. I've heard you play Beethoven, I've heard you play Liszt,
and I have been telling you for years to meet my friend from the Orchestra
to start you on a career that will undoubtedly be extremely successful. I
don't know of a single interpretation of Liebestraum more stunning and
accurate than what you just did. This is the way Liszt would have wanted it
to be played."

When she said that, I beamed with pride, forgetting my ever-low self-esteem
that prevented me from accepting any kind of complement. As I said before,
reaching Liszt's level of playing has always been my dream, and to hear her
say that I had done just that made me about the happiest I've ever
been. That's when Brent chimed in.

"I don't know much about classical music, and I really don't know who this
Liszt guy is, but even I can tell you that that was incredible." He smiled
widely and winked at me. I blushed again and realized that I could easily
fall in love with this kid.

"You are speaking to my friend, and I'm not taking no for an answer. I'm
going to call him up now and have him give you a call. Like I said, I have
no other comments or suggestions to make, so we should cut this lesson
short. I want to have a three-way meeting with you, him, and I to talk
seriously about a career in performing. There are a lot of competitions
you'll need to sign up for..." She continued rambling, more to herself than
to me. I'd never seen her this excited.

We said our goodbyes and she assured me once again that I should expect a
call. I thanked her, as did Brent for letting him watch. She was hit again
by exactly who he was and became as flabbergasted as she was when he first
walked into the door.

As we left, I headed over to Brent's limo with him and we said our
goodbyes.

"That was really amazing. I'm really glad I came!" he said.

"I'm really glad you came, too," I said shyly. We smiled at each other,
paused awkwardly, and leaned in for a kiss. It was a little bit longer than
the last one. We didn't use any tongue, as we really hardly knew each
other. However, the kiss was electric and magnificent, and I knew that I
absolutely had to kiss those lips again. We broke the kiss and made plans
to meet again tomorrow night for dinner. He leaned in for a quick peck on
the lips, but as soon as he lifted his head up, I, as if it were a reflex,
put my hand behind his head and pulled him in for another long one. He
wrapped his arms around me and we stood there for a few minutes, hugging on
the driveway, not ever wanting to let go. I smiled to myself and knew that
I was in for an exciting ride.



To be continued...hope you liked it. Email me with questions/comments at
jonnymanmeg@hotmail.com

Thanks,

Jon