Date: Sun, 24 Aug 1997 22:43:57 -0600 (MDT) From: Boy-writer Subject: John Allen (M/b) - part 5/8 JOHN ALLEN (M/b) - part 5 The story continues. John Allen is a child and adolescent counselor in a wealthy suburb of a large Eastern city. He has long had an attraction to boys, as his three Costa Rican servants, Jorge, Maria, and Carlita know very well. John is independently wealthy and lives in one wing of an enormous mansion. He is a little over six feet tall with auburn hair and solidly built, though not grotesquely muscular. John had considered his attraction to boys to be under control until he met Jeremy, 13. The boy has brown hair, green eyes, and a devilish nature (impish would be an understatement). Jeremy has caused no end of trouble for his parents who, until meeting John, were considering giving him up to the State. Chapter 15 ---------- It was Thursday evening, and John's last patient of the night, a mildly autistic boy of 7, had just left. John didn't normally take patients with such severe illnesses, but he had been prevailed upon by the boy's parents, who were prominent in social circles and major benefactors of the local Arts Council. There are certain men that one does not say "no" to, and the boy's father was one - one bad word from a man like that, and John's practice would have been cut in half, if not finished entirely. And John had begun to realize that he needed his practice as a counselor; it filled the empty hours and gave him purpose. Still, he felt out of his depth. It seemed impossible to reach the boy, impossible to converse with him as he did with his other patients. Even John's youngest patient, a girl of 4 who was haunted with a morbid fear of just about everything, seemed more, well, connected. John would be talking to the boy calmly about sports, in which he took an interest, then, suddenly, the color of the carpet would become all-important. John knew that autism got much worse; the boy could at least talk, though he often made little sense. Dr. Allen decided he had a lot of reading to do. John realized that tomorrow was Friday, and that meant Jeremy. He felt his heart leap. Seeing Jeremy again would make all the dreary hours worthwhile. John was angry at himself for not feeling that way about all his patients, though of course he did his best for them, but he knew Jeremy was different. Like Tommy at the boarding school. No, John thought, shaking his head, not like Tommy. Like no other kid John had known. More than Tommy? Maybe; maybe just different. Tommy hadn't needed John the way Jeremy seemed to. John felt a sense of responsibility to Jeremy that he hadn't felt before, not that he had ever, in his owm mind, disregarded a boy's welfare. As if Jeremy were the heir to some ancient throne, and it was John's purpose in life as a knight to defend him with his sword from all enemies. But Jeremy was his own worst enemy. Solemn thoughts to have, and pacing the forgotten corridors of the unused wings of a useless mansion, John was having them in a solemn place. But thinking of Jeremy brought a lightness to his heart that seemed to bring a secret smile to any thought, as if every bit of destruction in the world were accompanied by the smile of the boy who destroyed the bookcase, as if every bit of cruelty in the world were committed by a boy who cheated at soccer, as if all pain were inflicted by someone who would put their little arms around your neck and cry on your shoulder after you hurt them. The empty halls seemed filled with the screams of a little laughing maniac destroying priceless antiques. What about tomorrow's session? John thought brightly. The outdoor session, he decided, had been a good idea; this kid would never sit still in an office. But today had been overcast, and rain was forecast for tomorrow. John thought of going outside anyway - rugby might be more Jeremy's game than tame soccer - but decided that the kid might catch cold. He paced the hallways looking for an idea. John turned a corner into a part of the mansion he hadn't visited before and saw a stairway leading down. He was on the first floor, so this was a cellar of some sort. He knew there were wine cellars beneath other wings, with some rare vintages and much wine, too old, turned to vinegar. There had also been a cellar with jars of fruits and vegetables discovered by Maria after several jars had burst and the smell of decay began to spread through the house. This didn't look like a cellar door, though. The steps were worn from frequent use, and the door was scratched and marked as if opened by countless people. John went down and opened the door. He turned on the light. Flourescent lights, hanging from the ceiling, crackled to life; this had to be the only room in the house with fluorescent lights. A fan embedded near the ceiling in a far wall hummed and started to turn; gray light from the courtyard seeped in through it. It was a gym, or, more specifically, a boxing gym. A large boxing ring standing four feet off the floor dominated the capacious room. There were punching bags along one wall and what seemed to be a trampoline behind the ring. The floor was not hardwood or parquet as in the rest of the house, nor plain cement as in the cellars, but linoleum tile, though in reasonably good shape. There was a ping-pong table to John's left as he entered. Off to the right and extending toward the middle of the room, there were wrestling mats on the floor, and a balance beam was along the right wall. On the far side of the boxing ring, there appeared to be a set of parallel bars. The walls were panelled with cherry, it appeared - but then John noticed several scratches. It was pine, not cherry, only stained; this had to be the only room in the house without "real" wood in it as well. Nails were driven into the panelling, and jumpropes, boxing gloves, and other things hung from the nails. Posters of long-ago prize fights hung from the walls, placed there with tape and now falling off. The room was a complete and total affront to everything the house represented; it was shamelessly, joyously tacky. Several of the fluorescent bulbs were burned out, and the remainder were fighting a losing battle with the gloom against the phony cherry panelling. John went back and ordered Jorge to get some new bulbs and Maria and Carlita to clean up the place. In a few hours they were done, and John went back. They had taken down the posters, which John regretted, but he saw why the fluorescents had been used. The room was brilliant; it shone like daylight. Those _were_ parallel bars along the right wall. There was a pegboard as well, obviously new; John knew that only old lady Johnson could have installed it and wondered why she had. More mats were piled along the right wall. There was fencing equipment in a far corner. A doorway to the right led to a tiled locker room, with showers and whirlpool baths. A small office off the locker room was locked. An infirmary with two beds and a variety of patent medicines was in the back of the locker room. There was a closet with towels and an assortment of athletic apparel. There was some in John's size. Looking further, he found some in Jeremy's size as well. Problem solved - this was even better than the courtyard. Chapter 16 ---------- Friday finally arrived, rainy as predicted, and so did Jeremy, brought by his mother, Allison. Jeremy was in well-fitting jeans, without a belt, a red striped polyester shirt, sneakers, and a yellow raincoat. Allison was in pumps, an evening dress, and a black raincoat. Obviously planning a dinner out, which must be a luxury for these people, John thought. She spoke quickly, saying that Jeremy's father was waiting in the car. Allison took John aside (Jorge watching the kid like a hawk) and said that they were having an evening out and might be late. She hoped John would understand. Jorge was not out of earshot and turned his head slightly, still keeping his eye on the boy. John said, "Fine, we'll be here." The woman smiled slyly, feeling she had put one over on the gullible therapist. She left with a confident step. >From Allison's point of view, John was a pushover, the first man or beast she had been able to find who didn't actually seem to mind having Jeremy around. When she heard about his deal with Jeremy's father, especially the part about him offering "pro bono" counselling, she figured she had him pegged. The man felt an obligation to do good, and, like most people, when Allison encountered such fools, she took them for all they were worth. This fool was worth at least a night on the town without the kid from hell, and maybe more. In reality, it hadn't been a bad deal for John at all. Jeremy's father, Lawrence, was an excellent accountant and a competent investment advisor. John was finally caught up with the IRS, had his substantial fortune invested in some very solid companies (the old lady hadn't sold a stock in decades and still held stock of long-dead railroads), and Jorge was genuinely relieved to get away from bookkeeping, which he hated, as he told John after Lawrence took it over (it was impossible to know what Jorge hated from his behavior alone). John wasn't paying fees on his checking account any more, and the creditors were all paid off. John's musings were interrupted, though, when Jeremy flew out the door of the outer office, evading Jorge's grasping fist. Jorge ran after him, followed by John. Jorge saw Maria misting some plants outside and motioned to her, and soon she brought up the rear. Jeremy tore down the hallway. His sneakers squeaked on the parquet as he made a sharp left into another corridor. John called out Carlita's name. Jeremy ran past a small table in the hallway, reached out his hand, and knocked over a priceless Ming vase. He laughed hysterically, then his sneakers squeaked again as he made a right. Jeremy spied a staircase to his right and ran up it. The adults rounded the corner, slipping on the floor, Jorge bouncing off the wall, Maria nearly falling, John catching her. They set off again in hot pursuit. On the third floor, the hallways were carpeted. Carlita was in the hallway looking around, when Jeremy appeared at the opposite end. She held out her arms and put her head down, like a hockey goalie. Jeremy laughed and knocked over another vase, a less valuable one this time, and continued to run towards her. Jorge and John reached the top of the stairs and started to run after Jeremy. They watched in horror as the boy ran straight into Carlita with his arms out front, bowling her over, fell down on the other side of her, then got up and started running again. Jorge made a quick motion to Maria, who stopped to help Carlita while the men continued their pursuit. Jeremy made another right, but the carpet was no longer giving him an advantage since the men's shoes did not slide on it. Furthermore, he was entering a part of the house that Jorge and John were well familiar with. Jeremy made a left, and both men smiled to themselves. The hallway the boy had turned into was a circular one, coming back to the main hallway about 50 feet back. John nodded to Jorge, who went back to cover the other opening while John continued to pursue Jeremy. Jeremy was laughing like a demon and started to sing some tuneless song. John followed, now closing, breathing hard but determined. The hallway turned left. Jeremy held out his hands, but there were no tables in this hallway, only dark rooms on either side. He finally settled on a tune: "Grantchester Cathedral, I'm angry at you ..." John shook his head. Obviously his mother listed to the oldies station. The sound echoed through the house as if it actually were a cathedral. The hallway turned left again, and Jeremy kept running and singing. Then he saw Jorge waiting for him at the end. He knew Jorge couldn't be bowled over like Carlita - this was the man who had him in a headlock in the courtyard, the man with an iron grip. He stopped short and tried to open a door, but it was locked. He ran back toward John, who had been bowled over before. John and Jeremy were going full speed toward each other when they hit with an audible thump. They fell to the side with John's head hitting the wall, but the man had a strong hold on the boy. John turned Jeremy over on his back and crouched over him with his hands holding the boy's wrists down. John stifled a snicker, then started laughing uncontrollably. Jeremy kneed him twice in the back for appearance's sake, then started laughing too. Jorge walked up, leaned an outstretched arm against the wall, and smiled. Eventually John got up and put Jeremy over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Jorge walked behind, making sure the boy wouldn't kick, but he didn't. Part 6 should be right on the heels of this one ...