Date: Wed, 11 Oct 2000 13:30:35 -0700 (PDT) From: Brew Maxwell Subject: Twin Spin, Part 2, Chapter 7 Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The story contains graphic descriptions of sex between men, and anyone who is forbidden by law to read such material must exit the story now. The characters have unprotected sex, as characters safely can in fiction. Reality, obviously, is another matter entirely. This story is being posted to the Nifty Archive for the enjoyment of its readers. It may not be posted or distributed by any other medium without the written permission of the author. Other works by the author in the Nifty Archive include "Unusual Christmas" and the series Nick's Adventures, both in bisexual/high school; "First Mate" and "Twin Spin" in gay/incest; The Dancer and Call-Boy Journal in gay/encounters; "My First Year with Kevin" in gay/high school; and "From Slave to Houseboy" in gay/authoritarian. This story is a continuation of "Twin Spin," and you might find that some of the references make more sense if you've read the first part. E-mail comments are always welcome. Twin Spin, Part 2 Chapter 7 Brian really liked Kevin's new car, but he decided to keep the one they already had for himself. It was a Mazda sedan, and he felt comfortable with it, he said. To me, that was another example of how the boys were slowly, but surely, accepting the fact that they weren't the same person. In mid-August, the football coach at Asheville High called the house to speak to both boys. One of his team members had had to move away unexpectedly because of a business transfer of his father, and he wondered if either Brian or Kevin was interested in trying out for the team. "I'm not," Brian said. "Why don't you talk to my brother, though. He might be." They were on a speaker phone, and I was in the room. "Coach, this is Kevin. I'm very interested in trying out." "What position did you play last year, Kevin," the coach asked. "Quarterback and wide receiver," Kevin said. "Both?" "Yes, sir. It was a small school and there weren't many choices for the team." "I see. Well, can you be at school tomorrow morning at seven? That's when practice starts." "Oh, yes, sir. I'll be there." "You sound excited, Finch, and I like that in a boy." "Oh, yes, sir. I'm very excited, sir. I really want to play for you, Coach." "Well, you be there tomorrow morning, and we'll see what develops." Well, what developed was Kevin was chosen as first-string quarterback. Some of the underclassmen groused a bit at a "new boy" getting that position, but the coach was convinced Kevin was the best man for the job. Kevin went by himself, of course, but I went, too. I stood with the guys along the fence to watch the first practice of the new school year. They were mostly dads of the boys. They were as impressed as I was at Kevin's skill. "That sum bitch's got him an arm," one guy said. "Yeah, and he's accurate, too." "Did you see him run the ball a couple of plays ago," a third one said. "He's fucking talented. It wouldn't surprise me if the university didn't come sniffing around his ass." I thought of the irony of that last statement, given what we had been through that summer. "Who is that fucker, anyway," a man asked. "Damned if I know," another man said. "I know him," I said. "He's my little brother, and his name is Kevin Finch." "He might be a Finch, but he ain't no bird," an old man said. I figured he was somebody's grandfather. "Are y'all kin to Tom Finch," a man asked. "Yes, sir. Kevin's his son. I said he was my brother because that's the way I think of him, but he's not really. My name is John Prescott, but Kevin is Tom Finch's son. I work for Mr. Finch, and my job is to look after his two boys, Kevin and his twin, Brian." "I work for Tom Finch, too," a man said. "I'm a systems analyst for his company." "John Prescott," I said, shaking the man's hand. "Lyman Rigby," the other man said. "Nice to meet you." "Who the fuck is Tom Finch," the old man asked. "You know that new building downtown? That twenty-story building? That's who Tom Finch is. He's Finch, Incorporated. He owns it, and that boy out there is worth a billion dollars or more." That came from yet another man. "A billion dollars? What the hell is he doing playing high school football," the old guy said. "He ain't old enough for the pros, Daddy," a man of about forty-five said. Everybody got a good chuckle out of that line. "You know who Tom Finch is, Bubba," the old man asked. "Yes, sir, Daddy. I actually work for him." "Well, he must be a smart man, son. Look at that sum bitch run the ball," the old man said. He was referring to Kevin, of course. "Yeah, Daddy. Them Finches can run the ball," the son said. He looked at me and grinned. The old man looked at me. "So what do you do for Tom Finch," he asked. "Basically, my job is to keep them wild-ass boys' asses out of jail. So far I've been successful." The other men laughed. By that point, I had let my New Jersey cultivated accent go completely. I was talking western Carolina with every syllable. In the few remaining days of that summer, Kevin put in quite a bit of time doing what he loved. He would get up at 4:30 and swim fifty laps in the pool, which only took him a little over thirty minutes. Then, naked, he would ride Misty for an hour or so. Chuck had started coming in at six to get Kevin his breakfast, which he and Chuck would eat together on the patio. Kevin never showered before his morning practice. What was the use, after all? He'd leave the house at 6:30 for school and practice, which lasted until eleven. The North Carolina high school athletic association only allowed four hours a day of pre-season practice. Most days Kevin would shower and shave at school and go directly to town to see Lou for lunch. One day I asked him, "Kevin, does Lou get an hour for lunch?" I was curious about what might go on and equally curious to see how he would answer me. "Yeah, but some days it takes us a little longer to eat." "What do you eat on those days, Kevin?" I was learning the art of devilment from him, and I wanted to practice on the master. "Fish." I laughed hard when he said that. God, he was clever. Most days he stayed in town the rest of the afternoon. He was still seeing Dr. Spaulding twice a week, and the other days he was working out in the Finch gym. The football team was expected to put in a required number of hours in weight training every week, and the coach gave Kevin permission to do it at Finch, rather than at school. One day at lunch Brian said, "I haven't seen Kevin in forever. Does he still live here?" "Barely," Chuck said. "I'm worried about what he eats. I know he gets a good breakfast most mornings, but what does he eat the rest of the day?" "Fish," I said. Chuck and Rudy, who was eating with us, as he often did, burst out laughing. Brian looked confused. "What the fuck's so funny," Brian demanded. "Baby, you're a little bit on the naive side," Chuck said. "I am not. Why is it funny Kevin eats fish?" "That's the term gay men often use for pussy, Brian," Chuck said. Brian grinned. Late that afternoon, Brian and I were outside by the pool. I sensed he wanted to talk because the omnipresent Rudy wasn't around. "Where's Rudy," I asked. "Oh, he's with his parents. Evidently they wanted him to go out to dinner with them, or something." "You lonesome," I asked. He thought for a minute. "Yeah, but not for Rudy. I'm lonesome for Kevin," he said. "He hasn't really been around much, has he," I asked. "No, he hasn't. It's been days since I've seen him, much less talked to him. This is starting to piss me off a little bit, you know?" "No, I don't know, Brian. Why?" "'Cause he's my Kevin, that's why. Why the fuck do you think, J?" "He's *your* Kevin, Brian? I thought Kevin was his own man. You have Rudy to hang out with." "Yeah, and I really like Rudy a lot. I might even be falling in love with him, but he's not Kevin." "Do you think you might be just a little bit jealous of Kevin," I asked. There was a long pause. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Maybe. I don't know, J." "He's building a life, Brian. Separate from you. That's what we all wanted for him, isn't it?" His response was barely audible. "Yeah, I guess." "You know that's what you wanted for Kevin. You're building a life, too. You have Rudy, and you've gotten to know some of his friends. You guys hang out. You and Rudy ride the horses." "I know. Midnight's great, but Misty won't even let me touch her without getting upset. She lets Rudy because he raised her, but she backs up and makes noise when I try to do anything with her. She knows I'm not Kevin, and, J, this is going to sound strange as hell, but I think she loves him." "He spends time with her, Brian. I'm sure she does love him." "When," Brian asked. "Do you know he gets up at 4:30 every morning, swims, and then rides her for an hour or so?" "Shit! He gets up at 4:30?" "Yeah, most days. Not always on weekends, but every weekday. He usually comes into the house by ten or 10:30, but he always goes to see her to put her to bed. He really loves that horse." "Damn. No wonder I don't ever see him. A lot of nights I'm just going to bed when he's waking up," Brian said. "He's getting by on only six hours of sleep?" "Well, I think he takes a nap every afternoon. In fact, I know he does. He told me so. He gets eight full hours of sleep, just not all at one time." Brian didn't ask the obvious question, which was where Kevin took his nap. "J, I miss him so much." "I know you do, Huck. And I'm sure he misses you. But you've opted out of Kevin's world, you know? His world is sports and physical fitness and training and horses. Yours isn't, anymore." Brian heaved a thick sigh. "I know, but I had to be true to myself." "Yes, you did. My brother and I were very close, but, as we got older, we saw less and less of one another. These last few years we've gone for months without seeing one another. That's just the way it is, man." "You're right, and I know it. But I still miss my Kevin." Chuck saved the day right about then. He brought out a tray with glasses, scotch, ice, and some munchies. "Y'all want a drink? I do," Chuck said. We both did, and Brian poured. "Y'all have been talking about Kevin, haven't you," Chuck asked. "Yes, sir," Brian said. "How did you know that?" "'Cause you've got a face on you as long as an Interstate. That's how I knew." "Do you think Kevin is happy, Chunk?" "Oh, I think he is, Brian. I think he is. What about you, baby? Are you happy?" "Yeah, I guess. Rudy is a great guy, and I think I may be falling in love with him. But I miss my Kevin so much." Right at that moment Kevin drove up. He walked over to us. He was wearing very short cutoffs, a tank top, and sneakers. He looked like the very picture of health. "Hey, where's my glass," Kevin said, when he walked up. "Well, good evening to you, too, Mister Kevin," Chuck said. Kevin turned on his heels, walked back to his car, and got in. "Now where the fuck is he going," I asked. "He's not going anywhere. He's doing it all over," Brian said. Twin spin. Kevin backed his car up about a hundred feet into the driveway. He pulled into his parking space a second time, got out, and walked over. "Hi, everybody. Hi, Huck," he said to Brian and kissed him. "Hi, Chuck," and he kissed him, too. "Hi, J," he said. He kissed me, too. "It's great to see all of you together at one time. I wish Dad and Calvin were here. Then the whole family would be together." We all said hi. Kevin sat down at the table with us. "So, did you guys have a good day," he asked. "Mine was good, slaving away, as usual," Chuck said. "Good. Massah is pleased," Kevin said. "What Massah do wif hissef today," Chuck asked in play-slave dialect. "Massah had a good day. He threw his balls right into his deep receiver. He ran up the middle of some big, strong boys a few times, and he ate a steaming hot fish for lunch. He also breast stroked many times, and he lifted his heavy bar up and down, up and down many times." Brian and I were laughing so hard we barely heard everything Kevin said. "Would Massah care for a drink," Chuck asked. "Yes, Massah would," Kevin said. "Well, unless Massah wants to drink directly out of the bottle, Massah better haul his sorry Massah ass into the kitchen and get himself a glass." "Massah thinks his slave boy done got him last." We howled, and Kevin laughed harder than anybody. He got up, trotted to the house, and came back with a glass and a thick, black-pepper-encrusted gourmet sausage. I had bought it a couple of days before because I'd never seen anything like it, but I had forgotten about it. Kevin dropped it on the table. "Chuck, you shouldn't have," he said, with a perfectly straight face. The thing was about six inches long and about two-and-a-half inches in diameter. The three of us at the table stared at it a moment, and then we all broke up. "You little shitass. Yeah, you got me last. I'll admit it. Damn, I should never have taught you that game." Chuck laughed again. Kevin pulled out his pocket knife, which looked absolutely razor sharp. "Okay, boys, now for the circumcision." He cut away the plastic wrapping and started carving the sausage. In no time, it was the exact shape of a penis. He popped the shavings into his mouth and said "umm-umm, good" with every bite. When he was done, he presented it to Chuck. Brian and I were screaming with laughter, but Chuck and Kevin kept straight faces. They were deep into their game, and they couldn't acknowledge that the other one had scored any points. "You know, Kevin, I have known you all your life, and I have often wondered how your parents were able to find a baby to adopt who looked exactly like their natural son, Brian. You are truly the spawn of Satan." "Oh, please. What a come-back. Subtract ten points from Chunk for being, well, chunky." Kevin put the sausage into his mouth and pretended he was giving it a blowjob. It was pretty sexy looking, too. Then he bit off the head, chewed it up, and swallowed. "Pretty tasty. It'll burn my ass when I shit tomorrow morning, but it was worth it." Chuck was laughing so hard by then I thought he would need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to stay alive. When Chuck finally calmed down, he said, "Kevin, you are too fucking much for my sorry ass. You win, baby. I've never, in a lifetime of playing the Dozens with guys very much smarter than you, seen anything quite like that. But it was mighty good, wasn't it?" "STOP!" Brian screamed. He had been laughing so hard he was close to hyperventilating. Chuck and Kevin did a "high-five," and they settled down. Chuck made Kevin a drink. "Here. Drink this. It might render you unconscious." "You're starting," Kevin said. "I know, but I didn't mean to. You just bring that out in me. Let's have a nice drink before dinner, shall we?" "You guys really ought to try that sausage. That's some good shit. I realize I had the whole thing in my mouth, but that shouldn't be a problem for most of you. It's really good." Kevin had laid the sausage down with the other snacks, and I wanted a piece of it. I said as much, and Kevin took out his pocket knife again and sliced it into quarter-inch rounds for us. After a moment of quiet, Kevin asked, "Why are you still here, Chuck?" "Because Calvin is picking your dad up at the airport, and we're all going to eat together tonight." "Oh, man! That's fucking great," Kevin said. "No, you didn't tell me, either, Chunk," Brian said. Both boys were very excited, both at the prospect of seeing their dad and at seeing Calvin. It would be the whole family home for the first time ever, since I had become part of the family. "My daddy's the real Massah, you know, Chunk," Kevin said. "He'll lash your black ass good, too, for being mean to me." Chuck just looked at him and laughed. Kevin laughed, too. We polished off everything to eat that was on the table, and Chuck went inside to get more snacks. He also brought out a bottle of very fine gin and another bottle of scotch. "Are we fixing to get drunk," Kevin asked. "I am," Chuck said. "Let's all get drunk and naked. We can oil each other down and just have like an orgy pit," Kevin said. "Fat chance," Chuck said. Just then, Calvin's Lexus drove up. Tom came running over, and the boys were on top of him in an instant. It was really a greeting worthy of Norman Rockwell. They were so obviously glad to see him it was inspiring, and he was just as glad to see them. When they finished their greeting, Tom turned his attention to Chuck. They hugged, and you could almost see the love they had for one another pass between them. "Welcome home, Tom," Chuck said. There were tears in his eyes. "God, it's good to be back with my family," Tom said, and he had tears of his own. "You, Kevin, go get your daddy and Calvin glasses," Chuck said. "Yes, sir," Kevin said, and he ran off. "And don't bring out anything else," Chuck called to him. Kevin barked out a laugh. We had drinks on the patio for another hour or so, and Chuck went inside to get the homecoming meal ready. The boys bubbled over about Misty and Midnight, Louise and Rudy, football and Brian's new-found interest in computer programming. It was almost non-stop talk, and I don't know if anyone ever really took a good breath. I could tell Tom was overwhelmed by it all, but he listened eagerly to all they had to say. As Chuck was coming out of the house to join us for a last drink before dinner, Tom asked, "Has Chuck treated you boys right?" "He has me, Dad, but he's been a pure bitch to Kevin," Brian said. Oh, oh, I thought. This was going to be major Dozens. "Brian, Kevin now realizes he's straight," Tom said. "Chuck has always taken care of your needs. Kevin now needs a bitch, so Chuck took care of those needs, too." Chuck heard it all. He stuck out his tongue at Brian and made a loud farting sound with his tongue. "Well, that's true, but he farts in public. Just like right now." "Brian, that's about the lamest come-back I've ever heard from you. Tell Chuck he got you last, son. There's no shame in that." "You got me last, Chunk. Jim, honey." "Oh, no, that Huckleberry didn't say that to me. Ole Jim got a mind to leave your ass on the raft, Huck. I *know* where the fucking Ohio joins the Mississippi, and I'm out of here with your sorry-ass Tom Sawyer self." "Oh, come back to the raft, Jim, honey," Brian said. "That's Jim's line, asshole," Calvin said to Brian. "I know, but it was my turn to talk. He called me Tom Sawyer." Brian sounded indignant. I had read Mark Twain as a kid in high school, so I knew something about what they were talking about, but the Dozens had entered a whole new level of sophistication for me. "I'm not Tom Sawyer, Jim. It's me. Huckleberry Finn. I love you," Brian said, "and I'll damn sure go to hell before I betray you." "That's not what he told me last night, Jim," Kevin said. "When we get to the Phelps's place, he wants to lock you up and cover you with spiders and worms and shit," Kevin said. "Huck, you promised you wouldn't tell," Brian said. "I know, Tom, but I lied. You a low-down, mean motherfucker, and I'm heading out for the territory, as soon as I get me a smoke." By that point, Tom, Calvin, and Chuck were convulsing in laughter. "I see my boys haven't changed a bit in all the time I was gone," Tom said. Everybody got quiet. "We've changed, Dad. Or I have, at least. And I think Brian has, too. How long are you here for," Kevin asked. "The duration. I'll have the odd business trip, but I'm home for good now, boys." "We'll tell you all about it in time, Dad," Brian said, "although I think Chuck has probably kept you well informed. And John, too." "They have, Brian, and I wish I could tell you two how proud I am of you," Tom said. "Well, this is all really sweet and sentimental and all, but I've cooked my ass off, and it's ready. Y'all want to eat, or what?" Chuck's tone was dry humor, as usual. "Let's eat," Tom said. "I haven't had a decent home-cooked meal in months." "Yeah, but I ain't eating his ass, cooked or uncooked, ready or not," Kevin said. "Oh, I cooked you some fish, Kevin," Chuck said. "Goddamn it, Chuck. Go ahead and say it," Kevin said. "With pleasure. Gotcha last." After a wonderful dinner, the boys cleaned up the kitchen while the four "grown-ups" sipped after-dinner drinks. Once they were finished, though, nothing would do for Kevin but all of us going down to the barn to see the horses. When we got to the barn, Brian said, "Okay, y'all stay here and watch what happens." We all agreed to do what he said. Brian walked in and went first to Misty's stall. She started making a minor commotion and lots of noise. Then he went to Midnight's stall, and she nuzzled him with her snout. When Brian came out, he said, "Kevin, you do the same thing I just did." Kevin did as Brian asked, and the reaction of the horses was the reverse. "Damn, it's like they can tell you apart or something," Tom said. "They can, Dad," Kevin said. "They're twins, too. They know who belongs to who." "That's amazing," Tom said. "Yours is Misty, Kevin?" "Yes, sir," he replied. "Were you thinking about a puppy you once had when you named her, son," Tom Finch asked his boy-man. "Yes, sir, I was." Tom put an arm around each boy's shoulders and hugged them tight. "Damn, Kevin, I think you're bigger than your brother." Tom couldn't see it, but Kevin grinned broadly. "The horses are beautiful, boys, and I know y'all will have many happy hours with them and with each other. Now lets go back to the house and catch up on what's been going on." We sat on the patio in the cool mountain air for another three hours or more, catching everyone up on what had been going on. At one point, Tom wanted details about the beating Brian had taken in New Jersey and about Kevin's rescue. Kevin excused himself, saying he was cold and needed to put on long jeans and a regular shirt. He went into the house. "Excuse me," I said, and I followed him. I just went into his room through the open door without knocking. He had taken off his cutoffs and tanktop and was standing there nude. "What," he asked me when he saw me. "Why did you leave when you did," I asked. "Because I was cold." "I'm sure it's true that your were cold, Kevin, but that's not why you chose to leave at that precise moment, is it?" "No. I didn't want to hear that 'Kevin saved my life' shit again." "Why are you so sensitive about that? Okay, maybe you didn't save his life; maybe you only saved him from being a quadriplegic the rest of his life. What you did was heroic, man. Everybody who saw it knew that was true." "What happened is fucking embarrassing to me, J." "What? Kevin, I genuinely don't understand why what you did embarrasses you. Please help me understand," I said. "Well, first of all, I lost control. I hit and kicked that fucker way more than I had to. Second, I pissed on him, and, third, I got hard as a rock when I did it. If Brian hadn't stopped me, I would have raped him and then killed him. Do you think I'm proud of that? Would you be?" I was stunned at his analysis of the event. I hadn't thought of any of the points he had just made. I sat down on his bed. "Come here, please, and sit down." He did as I asked. He was still stark naked. "Honestly, Huck, I had never thought of it the way you just said it." I hugged him. "There's real depth to you, isn't there?" "I don't know what you mean by that," he replied. "There's a sensitivity and an ability to think a whole lot deeper than most people are prone to give you credit for, including me until just now. Does Brian know how you feel about this?" "Probably, but we haven't talked about it. He's wanted to, but I haven't let him." "Have you talked to Dr. Spaulding about this," I asked. "Yes, sir," he said. I almost commented on that reply, but I decided it was just a conditioned response. "Twice." "Does he agree with you," I asked. "He never agrees or disagrees with anything I tell him. He just listens. In talking to him, though, I figured out why I was embarrassed about what happened. Now I can put a name on why I feel the way I do about that incident." "Do you feel better about it, now that you've analyzed it," I asked. "No, I don't feel better about it. I understand my feelings better, but I'm still embarrassed and feel like shit about it." "Did Dr. Spaulding have any suggestions," I asked. "He told me I need to get how I feel out into the open. He said I needed to tell Brian and you and anybody else who knows about it." "Everybody you need to tell that to is talking about it right now downstairs. Why don't you get dressed and tell them, Kevin?" "I know you're right, J. And I know I'm going to start crying. I haven't cried in over two weeks, but this is going to make me cry." "Real men cry, Kevin." "I know. But you're right, I have to do it." He put on jeans and a light sweatshirt, and we went back downstairs. "Well, here's the hero now," Calvin said. He was the first to spot Kevin coming back outside. They all started clapping. "Why the long face, son," Tom asked. "Dad, Brian, everybody. I've got something to tell you guys about what happened. It really embarrasses me when y'all say I saved Brian's life. Not because I don't love Brian and wouldn't do anything to save his life. But I lost control of myself that night. I hit and kicked that man a whole lot more than I had to to make him stop. Then I pissed on him. I got an erection while I was pissing, and I was going to rape him and then kill him. Brian stopped me. He's the hero, not me. I'd be in jail right now if it hadn't been for him." "No jury in the country would have convicted you, Kevin," Tom said. "Are you sure of that, Dad? I was his brother and his lover. Do you think the good people of this country would sympathize with that?" There was dead silence around the table. After a few moments, Kevin continued. "I would give my own life to save Brian's without even a moment's thought, and I know he'd do the same for me. But what I did was way beyond what I had to do to save my brother. I was an animal that night. So, please, let's never talk about this again. You guys are my family. I know you love me, and I know you're proud of me, but please don't anybody ever mention it again." There was more dead silence. Kevin reached for a pack of cigarettes that was on the table and lit one. Everybody else looked down or away. Chuck broke the silence. "Kevin, I'm so proud of you right now, I could burst. This man is right. We are his family, and nobody in this family better ever talk about it again. And I mean it." There was more silence. Mama had spoken.