Disclaimer: This story is a continuation of the story of Kevin Foley, Rick Mashburn, and their "sons," Tim Murphy, Kyle Goodson, Justin Davis, and Brian Mathews that started in "Tim," continued in "Justin" and "Kyle," "Kyle, Part 2," and "Kyle, Part 3." It now continues in "Summer Fun." It is about gay men and gay boys living and loving together as a family, and it contains descriptions of sex. The sex is never intergenerational, though. If you are offended by descriptions of gay sex, or if the law in your area forbids you to read them, please exit the story. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy it. I appreciate feedback, and you can send it to me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Tyler came over on Friday night, and we shot pool. He and I had been seeing each other and talking on the phone for well over a month, and I was really starting to like him a lot. He had only been around the home crowd a few times, but he loved them. Of course, that was an easy group to like. They accepted anybody you wanted them to accept, and they treated Tyler like he was a dear friend from the first minute they met him. Even Trixie seemed to like him.
Tyler was kind of an archetypal "nice guy," a "boy next door," even. He was handsome and well built, and he had a great smile that he flashed with little provocation. His personality was easy going and agreeable, and he was always willing to do anything anybody wanted to do. I found myself thinking about him more and more at odd times, and I was rapidly developing a case of serious "like." I talked to Clay about him, and Clay approved. I know that sounds crazy, but it was real to me.
Up until that weekend after the guys' first week of work, Ty and I hadn't done anything physical. We had kissed a few times, but those had been minor expressions of affection, not serious kisses. I couldn't help noticing that he was aroused much of the time that we spent together, and I was often aroused as well. I knew it would be up to me to make the first move, so to speak, and I figured that weekend was the time to do it.
My only sexual experience had been with Clay. He and I had become best friends and inseparable comrades over a period of a couple of months. We had come out to each other early in our friendship, and, as we got closer and closer emotionally, we both knew the next logical step was the physical expression of our feelings. Still, we didn't rush into it. Clay had had some very minor experience with a couple of guys in Emerald Beach before we met, but he was basically as virginal as I was. Kissing had been the first step. When it got to be so intense that we needed release, we had brought each other off fully clothed. That had been rather messy, so we took the next step of getting naked together in bed. For eight months our passion grew, and we made the usual progress physically, as well. Finally, we were ready to take the plunge into anal sex. I knew Tyler was older, even if he was less experienced than Clay had been, and I knew he was ready for more than a chaste peck on the lips. It was, as they say, time.
That Saturday night we were alone in his apartment. His roommate's birthday had been the day before, and the roomie had gone home that day to spend the weekend with his family. Clay had rented a couple of movies from Blockbuster, and we were sitting next to one another on the couch in his living room. After the first movie had ended, I made my move. We hadn't yet kissed deeply, but we did it then.
Ty might have been a virgin, but he certainly knew how to kiss. We kissed for a long time, and both of us were thoroughly aroused. Finally, I put my hand on his penis through his jeans.
"Don't tease me, Jeff," he said.
"I'm not teasing," I said. "Are you ready for this?"
"I'm very ready," he said. He smiled at me in a way that let me know he wasn't kidding.
We were both a little nervous, but we both wanted one another. I unbuttoned the fly of his jeans. His penis was very hard, and there was a sizeable wet spot on his briefs. He raised his butt slightly to allow me to pull his jeans and underwear down, and I saw his erection for the first time. Next, he got my shorts and underwear down, and we used our hands on one another to achieve what we both needed and wanted.
"I feel so different," he said after we were through.
"What do you mean," I asked.
"I feel a bond with you that I've never felt before with anyone else," he said. "It's like you and I have a secret that nobody else can ever share."
"I know what you mean. I feel the same way. It's something special between us, isn't it?"
"Does this mean we're a couple," he asked. God, he was cute!
"It does as far as I'm concerned," I said.
"Me, too," he said. "Definitely, me, too."
We went out for coffee after that, and then he took me home. My car was still in the parking lot of his apartment complex, but I'd get somebody to help me retrieve it the next day. I went to sleep that night with a sense of completeness, as though I had come full circle in my life. I had a boyfriend again.
Tim and I spent Sunday night with my parents. That's when I first heard that the resort deal was off. Instead, my dad was buying another hotel over there, and they were talking about maybe moving. I got kind of scared.
"I want to finish high school at Beachside," I said.
"Kyle, that's not an issue, son. Of course you will," Dad said.
"Even if we move?"
"If Daddy and I move, that doesn't mean you have to, Kyle," my mom said. "You'll be eighteen in November, and absolutely nothing is going to happen before then. We'll buy you a condo, and you can stay right here."
That sounded pretty good. But my own place? That'll never happen.
"What's going to happen to the business here," I asked.
"I've got the two best men in the world running it now," Dad said. "I haven't done squat in that business since last September. That's the main reason I feel so good about this."
"Won't you miss being in charge," I asked.
"That's my point, Kyle. I haven't been in charge for almost nine months, and things are going great. I go to the office every day and more or less just fart around. I get bored to death. I want the challenge of taking this old lady of a hotel and making her profitable again. What I'm talking about doing is exactly what my father did when I took over. He went back to managing a hotel, and he had a great time doing it."
"Won't you miss living here," I asked.
"We'll still be part of this community. It takes exactly forty minutes to get from our driveway to the GM's parking spot at that hotel, and that's with traffic. We'll be back and forth all the time," he said. "In fact, we'll probably pick up a small condo here, too."
"I feel like I haven't been a very good son," I said.
"Are you out of your mind," my mother asked. "Kyle, we could not have asked for a better son than you are, baby."
"Kyle, don't think that, please. Don't ever think that," Dad said. "Losing Clay got you mama and I thinking. Life is too short to spend it doing anything less than what makes you the happiest. I want to run a hotel. I haven't done that in years, but I know that's what I do best."
"I see what you mean," I said. "I'm going to be happy no matter what. I want you all to be happy, too, though, and if it takes moving to do it, then I'm all for it."
"Don't say anything about this yet, boys," Dad said. "It's probably going to happen, but it's not 100 % yet."
Tim and I said we'd keep our mouths shut about it, and we did.
"Why do you think your parents talked about that stuff tonight with me around," Tim asked.
I hadn't thought about that until then.
"You know what I think it means," I asked.
"I think it means they see us as a couple, a real couple. My future is your future, and yours is mine, too. That's what I think they were saying, sort of," I said.
"I know that's the way you and I think, but for them to think that way, too, is pretty awesome, don't you think?"
"Yeah, that is so cool. They don't think we're just kids playing at being in love. They know the truth and accept it, don't they?"
"Yeah, they do."
"Oh, Tim. That makes me feel so good," I said. "They know the truth. They think we're grown-ups. It's not just Kyle anymore, is it? It's Kyle and Tim, forever."
Tim started crying a little bit, and I knew exactly what he was feeling. I cried with him, but they were the happiest tears of my life.
I was out in the breezeway one afternoon during Kyle's second week on the job unloading some people's car. Jason was talking to the man, and Wayne was playing with their dog, so that left just me to do all the work. Wayne was up next to take them to their room, too. All of a sudden I notice a car that looks just like Tim's Wrangler drive into the parking lot. I wanted to look to see who it was, but one of the damn kids was asking me a million questions about the swimming pool.
I was just about to tell the kid that he wouldn't be allowed to use the pool at all if he didn't shut up when Tim walked into the breezeway.
"Hi, Jus," he said, smiling nice.
"Hey, Bubba. What's up, man?" He had a paper sack in his hand.
"A lady left her purse in the shop. She's staying here and called to see if somebody could run it over to her. I volunteered."
"Cool. Just a second. Let me finish with this," I said. I finished piling their shit on the cart. "Okay, Wayne. You're all set."
"That's the famous Wayne," Tim asked.
"Yeah. Wayne the asshole," I said sort of low so only Tim could hear me.
He laughed a little.
"Is Kyle around," he asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Just any old Kyle will do," he said.
He and I both laughed, and we walked back inside.
"He's around here somewhere," I said. "He's probably getting ready for break. Why don't you stay and visit him during his break?"
"I will. I've got to get rid of this thing, though," he said, meaning the paper sack, which is where I guess he had the purse.
"Go over to the desk and ask what room the lady's in, then take it up to her. She'll probably give you a tip."
"Okay. Where would Kyle be when I come down?"
"I'll be here. I'll show you where the break room is," I said.
"Why don't you take break with us," he asked.
"I'll stick my head it, but I'm not scheduled for break for another half hour."
He went to the desk and got the room number. I checked the bell stand to see if there was anything for me, but there wasn't. I just stayed put waiting for Tim, and Wayne came back from his delivery.
"Who was that fag that just drove up," he asked.
"Kyle's boyfriend," I said.
"Yeah, right, asshole," he said.
"Why'd you ask, then, if you're not going to believe me," I said.
"I've got to keep my eyes on you faggots, that's why."
"He's a friend of ours," I said.
Jesus Christ, Wayne, I thought. You're all the time calling us fags and shit, and then when I tell you the truth about Kyle, you don't believe me.
"That's a nice little fag car he's driving. I hope nothing bad happens to it while he's here," he said. Then he giggled like a little girl.
"Nothing bad better happen to it," I said.
Wayne said shit like that all the time, and I knew even he wasn't crazy enough to mess with Tim's car in broad daylight with people all around.
I waited for Tim, and he came down in about five minutes. I walked him over to the break room.
"Did you get a tip," I asked.
He grinned, so I figured he had. Then he flashed a twenty.
"Damn, boy. You lucked out," I said.
Kyle was surprised as hell to see Tim when we showed up in the break room. He was sitting at a table with one of the valet guys showing him a card trick.
"Hey, Tim," he said, a mile-wide grin on his face. "What are you doing here," he asked.
Tim told him about the lady's purse.
"Sit down. You want a coke," he asked.
"Yeah," Tim said, and Kyle got him one from the machine.
"I'll see y'all later," I said and went back to the bell desk.
I was just standing there waiting for some business when I heard some yelling out in the parking lot. I stepped outside to see what was going on, and I saw Wayne by Tim's car. Brendan, one of the valets, was trying to take something away from him. When I looked closer, I saw that Wayne had a can of spray paint.
I ran across the lobby to the break room.
"Kyle and Tim, y'all come with me. Wayne's messing with Tim's car," I said.
We all hauled ass outside. When we got to Tim's car, we saw that Brendan had gotten the can of paint away from Wayne but not before he had sprayed "FAGGOT" on the driver's door. When Kyle saw what had happened, he jumped on Wayne and slammed his ass against the car. Wayne's uniform smeared the paint, and he got paint all over himself. That was a suit for the rag bag. Kyle reared back to punch Wayne's lights out, but I grabbed his arm before he could deliver. Tim grabbed Kyle around the waist and pulled him back. I knew that boy was strong, but I didn't know until then just how strong he was. The whole time, Wayne was laughing his ass off like what was going on was the funniest thing in the world.
"Calm down, Kyle," I said.
"What's so funny," Kyle screamed at Wayne. "What the fuck are you laughing at?"
"Calm down, Babe," Tim said.
"Why is that asshole laughing," Kyle demanded.
"He's laughing 'cause he's nuts," I said. "He's having some kind of breakdown or something."
Just then, Wayne pissed his pants, and that made him laugh even harder.
"Call Kevin," Tim said.
I was afraid to turn Kyle's arm loose for fear he would go for Wayne. Brendan was there, so I gave Kyle to him. I had my phone out quicker than a hard dick at a porno show, and I pushed the speed dial button for Kevin's cell. He answered right away.
"Kevin, get over here right now," I said. "Wayne's been messing with Tim's car."
"What is Tim doing there," he asked.
"He came to return a lady's purse that she left in the shop."
"He's right here, and I think we've got him calmed down. Nobody got hurt."
Jeff had just walked up, and he was helping Tim with Kyle, who really wasn't fighting them.
"He's right here. He and Tim have Kyle under control. A bunch of people are out here already, and Mr. Rooney just walked out the front door," I said.
"I'll be there in a few minutes," Kevin said, and then we hung up.
Kevin got there quick, and Rick was with him. The only one missing is my little Brian, I thought.
Kevin saw the damage to Tim's car, and he told Mr. Rooney that he would take care of it personally. Rooney was embarrassed to death that the whole thing had happened, but when Kyle told him Tim was his boyfriend, he just about shit a brick. He already knew all three of us were gay, but it didn't matter to him. The fact that Kyle cared so much mattered a lot, though.
"Justin, call 9-1-1 and ask them to send an ambulance," Kevin said in a real calm voice.
"I'm on it," I said. I was Telephone Central that day.
"Why did you call for an ambulance," Tim asked.
"This man's out of control," Kevin said. "Somebody needs to calm him down, and we can't do it."
Wayne was on the ground by that time, still laughing. He added screaming to his gig just about then, too.
While we were waiting for the ambulance, Kyle asked me for a smoke.
"Kevin, I'm sorry, man," Kyle said between drags.
"You didn't do anything wrong that I can tell, Kyle," Kev said.
Then he wanted a smoke, too. It was a good thing somebody carried 'em.
"I know I didn't hit him, but I was fixing to," Kyle said.
"But your brothers saved you, didn't they," Rick said.
"Yes, sir, they sure did."
"Jack, do you think you could scare up some turpentine or mineral spirits to see if we can get this paint off the car before it dries," Kevin asked Mr. Rooney.
Mr. Rooney looked at me as if to say, What are you waiting for.
"I'm on it," I said.
Where the hell am I going to find turpentine or mineral spirits, I thought. I knew what turpentine was, but I had never even heard of mineral spirits. Then I thought maybe Jason might know, and he did. He and I got some rags, and we went at it. In just a little while, we got that car cleaned up good as new. Of course, both of us were wringing wet from sweating, but it was almost time to clock out, anyway. Jason didn't smell too good, and I was sure I didn't, either.
"Thank you, Justin and Jason," Mr. Rooney said, once we were back in the lobby. The ambulance had just gotten there, so Mr. Rooney went outside again.
"I've got to go see what's going on," I said.
"Rick, I'm going to follow the ambulance to the hospital," Kevin said. "I'll call you to let you and the boys know what's going on."
"Okay," Rick said.
"I'll take you back to your office, Rick," Tim said. "We got off a half hour ago, and Brian's probably wondering where I am."
"I'll call Brian to let him know you're on your way," I said. "What's the number?"
"I don't know," Tim said.
"You don't know your work number," I asked.
"Lay off him, Justin," Kyle said. There was a real edge to his voice, like he was spoiling for a fight.
"Kyle, I'm on his side, remember? Your side, too. Calm down, and don't give me any shit," I said.
I must have sounded mad, because Kyle grabbed me in a big, sweaty hug, and he started crying.
"I'm sorry, Bubba. I didn't mean to sound like that," he said.
"Let's take a walk, you and me," I said.
"I'll call Brian," Jeff said. "I know how to look up phone numbers."
"Very funny," Rick said.
Jeff stuck his tongue out at Rick, and they both laughed.
Kyle and I walked down to the end of the building.
"I was proud of you back there, Kyle. We all were," I said.
"I'm not proud of myself, though," he said.
"Why? You didn't do anything, and, if you had, he would have deserved it."
"But he's crazy. He probably couldn't help himself," Kyle said.
"Crazy, or a damn good actor," I said. "But you didn't know that. We figured that out when he started laughing. By the way, I told him Tim was your boyfriend, and he didn't believe me."
That got him laughing, and that was good.
"Come on, Bubba," I said. "You know you're a fine man, and we know it, too. You lost your temper when the boy you love most in the world was getting his beautiful new car trashed by a psycho. Nobody's going to fault you on that, son, and I hope you know it."
He didn't say anything for a few seconds.
"You know how to make a guy feel better," he said.
"Yeah? I wonder where I learned that."
That made him grin.
"See? Now you know what it's like to feel like shit and to have your brother pull you up. You've done it to me a million times, Kyle. I'm just glad I could do it to you this once."
"I'm ready to go home, are you?"
"Hell, yes. Let's get out of here. It's quitting time, anyway," I said.
Mr. Rooney was waiting for us, and he wanted us in his office.
"Oh, shit," Kyle said, but not loud enough for Rooney to hear him.
"Sit down, boys. Er, Kyle, I hope you're not too upset about what happened," Rooney said.
"No, sir. I was, and I'm sorry for that," Kyle said. "It won't happen again."
Rooney looked at him real strange.
"Are you apologizing to me," Rooney asked.
"Yes, sir, and I mean it sincerely," Kyle said.
"Well, I asked you to come in here to apologize to you. To both of you and to your friend. Kevin told me Wayne had been riding you hard since you started here. You should have come to me about that," Mr. Rooney said.
"Sir, we told Kevin about that as our brother, not as the boss."
"That's why we called him today, too," I said. "Because he's our brother, not because he's a boss."
"Well, I can understand that, and I'm not offended or upset about it," Rooney said.
"Kevin told me he would fire me if I tried to pull rank because I'm a Goodson. I did it last summer, and I promised them I wouldn't do it again."
"You mean with Herman," Rooney asked.
"You know about that," Kyle asked. He was embarrassed, but I doubt Rooney could tell.
"I've heard him tell that story on himself two or three times, Kyle. He thinks its funny, and it is. He also never fails to tell that you saved a boy from slavery and that you apologized profusely to him the next day."
"That boy was me," I said.
"Oh, really! I had no idea, Justin," he said.
"That's the day this boy and me became brothers," I said.
"Complicated relationships," he said. "Kyle, what I wanted to say about pulling rank is this: just because your last name is Goodson doesn't mean you have fewer rights than anybody else who works here. I admire your character, son, but reporting Wayne's harassment might have kept some other boy from getting hurt. It appears that Wayne is deeply troubled. I hope he can get the help he needs."
"Yes, sir," we both said.
"There was a third boy that Kevin asked me to seriously consider. Jeff Martin. How does he fit in this mix?"
"He's our brother, too," Kyle said. "There are five of us."
"And Kevin is the foster father of all of you," he asked.
"Kevin and Rick," we said at the same time.
"He's honorary for me and Tim, the boy whose car got messed up," Kyle said. "It's pretty complicated."
"Really, just honorary for Jeff, too, isn't it," I asked.
"Well, yeah, since Jeff is over eighteen," Kyle said.
Suddenly it dawned on me.
"I'm almost eighteen," I said.
Then it dawned on Kyle, too.
"Well, you fellows need to get going, I know. Kyle, I just hope you won't hold this against us," Mr. Rooney said.
"Oh, no, sir. What sense would that make?"
"Well said. Goodbye, guys. See you tomorrow."
Kyle and I didn't say a word the whole way home. Finally Jeff said,
"Did Rooney read you guys the riot act or something? You're so quiet. What's going on?"
"No, he didn't read us the riot act. I think we just both have a lot on our minds right now," Kyle said.
We didn't see Tim or Brian when we got home. Trixie wasn't around, either, so I figured they must be off somewhere with her. I went into our bedroom, and I flopped down on the bed. All of a sudden, the thought of turning eighteen in less than a month, and of no longer being Kevin and Rick's son, was too much for me, and I started bawling.
"Jus, can I come in?" It was Kyle.
"No. Go away," I said.
Kyle came right on in, just like I knew he would. He sat down next to me on the bed, and he picked up my hand. He wrapped my hand around two of his fingers, and he moved it back and forth like I was jerking him off. Even though I was worried and sad, I started laughing. Then he started laughing, and pretty soon we were both howling like Wayne had been.
"Kyle, you are something else, man," I said around my laughter.
"What's the worse that could happen," he asked.
"They could kick my ass out of here, that's what could happen," I said.
"You mean like they did Jeff?"
"Yeah, but he's family," I said.
"No more than you are," Kyle said.
"Yeah, well, maybe," I said.
"Do you honestly think they don't love you," he asked.
"No, I know they love me."
"Do you think Kevin Foley and Rick Mashburn are capable of putting someone they love, someone who has been their son for over a year, out on the street just because he turned eighteen?"
"When you put it that way, no, but . . ."
"There's no 'but' to it, Jus. I think we both panicked a little bit because of that shit with Wayne. You ain't going anywhere, dude, so you can forget that shit," Kyle said.
"I don't know what's going on today," I said. "I feel like I've been on a roller coaster, only it was dragging me behind it."
"You need to get a shower, dude," he said. He was right.
"Okay, and thanks, Kyle," I said.
"Oh, no. Thank you," he said.
"Oh, no. Thank you," I said.
"Oh, no, Justin. Thank you," he said.
"Shut up and get the fuck out of my room," I said.
I heard him laughing all the way down the hall.
I followed the ambulance to the emergency clinic the county medical center had on the beach. I had no idea what was going on with that guy, and I certainly didn't know how to handle it. He was still laughing and screaming hysterically when we got to the station, and two orderlies had to help the two men on the ambulance get him inside.
"Are you the responsible party," a lady at the desk asked me.
"I guess so, for now, anyway," I said.
"What's his name," she asked.
"Wayne something. I don't know his last name," I said.
"Do you happen to know if he has insurance?"
"Yeah, I do know that, and, yes, he does. He works for Goodson Enterprises, so he has employee insurance," I said.
"Oh, I'm very familiar with that," she said.
Well, that's a break, I thought. Then I wondered if a lot of our people came here when they got sick.
An orderly brought Wayne's wallet out to the desk and handed it to the lady. She in turn handed it to me, and I put it in my pocket.
"Would you mind going through it to see if there's any information about an emergency contact," she asked.
"Oh. Oh, sure," I said.
When I took it out, I noticed two circles embossed in the leather of the outside of the wallet, and I knew those could only be condoms. I decided not to embarrass the lady, myself, and Wayne by going through it right there for fear of what it might contain.
"Is there someplace I can do this in private," I asked.
"Yes. You can use this office back here," she said, directing me to a small office that looked unused.
I pulled out his driver's license, and I learned that his name was Wayne Smith.
Great, I thought. It should be easy to locate a next of kin with that name. The license was three years old, and I was sure the address had changed by then.
The wallet was actually quite thick, almost a cube, so I started going through the other things that were in it. I opened a couple of sheets of paper that had photographs of nude men that had been printed from a Web site. There was a newspaper clipping of an obituary that had the word "Yes," followed by three exclamation points, scrawled at the top. I scanned it, but there was no mention of a Wayne Smith. There were a couple of gasoline credit cards and a Visa card, membership cards for three different movie rental places, a parking ticket, his company insurance card, and fifteen dollars. There was nothing that remotely resembled a name to contact in case of an emergency.
I thought for a moment, and then it dawned on me that we routinely got information of that type on all new employees, in case someone had to be taken to the hospital from work. Duh, I thought. Way to go, genius.
I got my secretary on the phone, and she had the information I needed in about fifteen seconds. In case of emergency, we were to call his sister, Darlene Smith, and we had a work number as well as a home number for her. I tried the work number first, and it was a dental office. Darlene Smith was a dental hygienist.
"Miss Smith, this is Kevin Foley, with Goodson Enterprises," I said.
"I'm sorry, I'm really not interested," she said. "Besides, I'm at work."
"Don't hang up," I shouted into the phone. "It's about your brother, Wayne."
"What about Wayne," she asked. "And what is Goodson Enterprises?"
"I'm sorry. Goodson Enterprises is the company that owns the Laguna Hotel, where Wayne works," I said. "I'm in the central administration of the company."
"Yeah, there was an incident at work today involving Wayne. He's not hurt or anything, but we couldn't get him under control. He had some sort of episode, and he started laughing and screaming hysterically. I didn't know what to do, so I called an ambulance. I'm with him now at the Emerald Beach Emergency Clinic on the Parkway," I said.
"He's not hurt," she asked.
"No, ma'am, there's not a scratch on him."
"Thank you for calling. I'll be there in a few minutes," she said with a resigned tone of voice. I wondered if this was a repeat performance for Wayne. "What did you say your name was?"
"Foley. Kevin Foley."
"I'll be there in a minute, Mr. Foley. Goodbye."
I went back to the desk and filled the lady in on what had transpired.
"Did you happen to see an insurance card in the wallet," she asked.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I did."
I took it out and presented it to her. She turned to a copy machine behind her and ran a copy.
I could no longer hear Wayne's voice, and I wondered if he had calmed down or if they had sedated him. I took a seat and waited for Darlene. I didn't wait long, though. She got there in about ten minutes, still wearing her dental hygienist uniform, of course.
Darlene Smith was an attractive woman, maybe a year or two older than I was. She was about five feet four, medium-length brown hair, quite a nice ass from my angle, and she was wearing a sweater. How strange, I thought, and then I remembered that several of the women in my office wore sweaters in the summer because they said the air conditioning made it cold.
She followed the lady into the back where the treatment areas were, but she was back in just a couple of minutes. She walked over to me.
I stood up.
"Yes. Miss Smith?"
"Please call me Darlene," she said.
"And please call me Kevin," I said.
We both sat down next to one another.
"How's he doing," I asked.
"He's sedated right now, but the P.A. said he should wake up in about an hour," she said.
"Physician's assistant," she said. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"I wasn't there when the commotion went on, but apparently your brother spray painted the word 'faggot' on a boy's car. The boy had just pulled up, and Wayne didn't know him."
"My God," she said, more like a prayer than an expletive.
"One of the valet parking staff tried to take the can of paint away from him, and they struggled. The other boy must have gotten the paint, though, but only after Wayne had sprayed the car."
"Will the whole car have to be repainted," she asked.
"No, as a matter of fact, they were able to get the spray paint off. I don't know how they did it, but they did," I said.
"Well, that's a small mercy, anyway," she said.
"We had had some unofficial complaints from some of the other bellhops that Wayne constantly harassed them about being gay," I said.
"That sounds familiar," she said.
"I take it this has happened before?"
"Twice," she said. "Never before at work, though. Had Wayne been drinking, do you know?"
"I doubt it. I think we would have noticed," I said.
"The other two times alcohol had been involved. I had assumed that alcohol somehow triggered those episodes," she said. "His doctor has been skeptical that it had, but I was hoping that they were alcohol-related."
"I don't understand," I said.
"Well, I can usually keep him from drinking," she said.
"I see. Any reason why he would be so down on gays?"
"Mr. Foley, Wayne is gay, but except for a few nameless encounters on the beach with tourists, he's never been sexually active," she said.
"Darlene, you don't have to tell me all of this," I said. "That's his private life, and it's none of the company's business."
"I'm glad you feel that way, but it's all very relevant," she said. "Wayne was sexually abused by our uncle from the age of nine until he turned seventeen. Nobody knew anything about it. The man was married and had two daughters of his own. He's dead now."
I wondered if his was the obituary in Wayne's wallet.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said.
"Well, it's part of his history that imposes itself from time to time on his present. Wayne is in total denial about his sexuality, or at least he had been, until recently. He had been dating a boy, a really nice young man, for several months, but the other boy broke it off," she said.
"I thought you said he has never been sexually active," I said.
"He hasn't been. It seems that Wayne was ready to ratchet the relationship up to the level of physical intimacy, but the other boy wasn't. He's a really nice guy, but he comes from an extremely strict fundamentalist Christian family. He told Wayne that even knowing him was an occasion of serious sin for him. Ken is his name," she said.
"So you think breaking up with the boy caused what happened today," I asked.
"No. What it caused was a pretty serious bout of depression. Wayne has bipolar disorder. Do you know what that is," she asked.
"I have just a very vague idea," I said.
"His form of it is pretty rare and pretty extreme, unfortunately. He takes medicine for it every day, and the medicine keeps him right on the cusp of depression, but not quite depressed. More like subdued, really. The break-up with his boyfriend put him way over the edge into depression. His doctor increased his medication to accommodate that, but he was never able to find the right dosage. Any change in meds with Wayne is risky. The upshot was, he simply refused to take anything. The manic phase of the illness kicked in, and that was what caused today's episode."
Oh, shit, I thought. What am I going to do with him?
"Darlene, Goodson is going to work with you and with Wayne any way we can, but, frankly, I don't see him going back to the Laguna as a bellhop," I said.
"I can't say that I blame you," she said. "He was very happy there, though, until the break-up. He hasn't been happy anywhere since that happened."
"We want to do the right thing. The trouble is, I don't know what the right thing is, at this point. I'll put Wayne on extended sick leave until I figure something out. He'll get his hourly wage, but he won't be making any tips, of course," I said.
"That's actually more than I expected. I thought you'd fire him outright. Thank you for being so understanding," she said.
Suddenly I wished I had paid better attention in college to the information we got on the Americans with Disabilities Act. I did want to fire him right on the spot, but I had to think it through. I sure didn't want a damn EEOC complaint. The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission could be a real bear.
"Do you think you'll be able to get him back on his medicine," I asked.
"Yeah. I suspect this will be enough of a wake-up call that he'll voluntarily take it. That's really the only way he can function," she said.
"What's he like when the medication is working," I asked.
"Rather quiet, shy, pleasant enough, really. He's the type that you probably wouldn't notice."
An orderly wheeled Wayne out at that moment. He was ready to go home, and he had obviously calmed down enormously. In fact, he appeared almost groggy.
"Hi," Darlene said. "Ready to go home?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm sorry, Dee," he said.
"We'll get you fixed up," she said. "Do you know this gentleman? I think he's actually your boss."
"No," he said.
"I'm Kevin Foley, and I'm really your boss's boss, not yours directly," I said. I offered my hand, but he didn't accept it. He seemed to be more than a little out of it.
"His boss's boss? Was it that serious," she asked.
"No. Actually, the reason I'm involved at all is that it was my son's car," I said.
"Oh, my God! Your son!?"
"Foster son," I said. "I'm not old enough to have a sixteen-year-old of my own," I said.
"I didn't think so, but still . . ."
"Well, here's my card. Please call me if I can help in any way, and be sure to call me once the medicine is working properly," I said.
"Thank you Kevin for being so nice about all of this," she said. "And thank you, too, for taking care of him until I could get here."
"Well, getting him well again is our first priority," I said. "It was nice to meet you. I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."
"Nice meeting you, too. Thanks, again."
It was after eight by the time I got home. I had called Rick to tell him what was going on, so he wasn't worried about me. In fact, he made me a drink without my asking him to, and he brought it to me. That was a rare treat, and it did a lot to help me relax.
"Where are the kids," I asked.
"Probably off engaging in deviant sexual behavior," he said.
"Good for them," I said. "I knew there was some reason to be proud of those boys."
That made him laugh.
"Do you want to talk about it," he asked.
"Of course, but right now I want to sip this wonderful drink, look at you, and think horny thoughts about deviant sexual behavior with you," I said.
He smiled. He turned off the TV set and put on some soft music on the stereo. He came around behind me and started taking my shirt off me.
"What are you doing," I asked.
"Taking care of my guy," he said.
When my shirt was fully off, he started one of those wonderful neck and shoulder massages that can only be called Platonic, they're so good.