Tripod Chapter 17

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"Tripod"

Chapter -- 17

I was startled awake at 6:00 the following morning by my phone's ring. I rolled over to see who could possibly be calling at that hour, then swiped toward "Accept" and tried to jump-start my brain and look somewhat awake as the video chat began. "Hola, Ma. ¿Cómo estás?" I managed to mumble. "You're up awfully early."

"Hola, mi amor. I'm actually up late. We were filming all night. I wanted to chat with you before I went to bed," Mom said.

"How's your production going?" I asked.

"Really well. It's going to be tough editing this one down to a reasonable length. We've got so much good footage, but we can talk more about it when I get home over the weekend, OK?

"What I really wanted to do was see how you were doing and to talk to you about what happened on Sunday. You have no idea how upset your dad was about your coming home so late," Mom said.

"I know, Mom. I've never seen him so pissed off. He's always the calm one in the family. I felt really bad. I understand why he was so upset. Trust me, it won't happen again. OK? Can we change the subject?" I asked.

Mom twisted up her mouth. She clearly had more to say on the subject, "No, we can't. The world is not a friendly, welcoming place, especially if you're a minority kid. You need to watch out for yourself and your friends. And you need to be considerate of the feelings of your family. We know what Tyler, Eddie, and you were up to after you left the movies. The sex isn't the issue. Eddie drove you guys to the park and you did it in the car, right?"

"Wait, how did you know?" I stammered.

"I didn't. You just admitted it, but your dad and I weren't born yesterday," Mom continued. "What would have happened if a policeman had caught you guys? I'm sure if it had just been you with a girl, they wouldn't have done much, just told you to zip up and move along. But with three guys, and two of you not being white, you have no idea what might have happened. You want to believe that the police treat everyone equally, but we both know that that's not the case. Your father made it pretty clear that our house is a safe place for you and whoever you want to be with. We won't judge you. We just want you to be in a safe space and with people you can trust. Got it?"

Mom's words stung. I wanted to crawl back under the covers and hide. "Yup. I get it. I'm sorry. Can we talk about something else?"

"OK. I guess I've had my say. What's up?" Mom asked.

"Dad got home really late last night and I didn't get a chance to tell him, but remember Brandon the guy who put the nooses on our locker and Tyler's car?" I asked.

"God, how could I forget? What an awful kid with an even worse father. Didn't they expel him from school?" Mom asked.

"No. Just suspended. Anyhow, he's back and apologized to me yesterday. Turns out it was his asshole father who pushed him to do all those shitty things. I invited him over for dinner last night. Then I had Tyler and Eddie come over, too, without telling them Brandon was coming over."

"That was pretty ballsy of you. How did they react?" Mom asked

"At first, they got pissed off and turned to walk out, but I begged them to stay. They said I could have five minutes for Brandon to have his say. But once they heard Brandon's story, they not only forgave him, but we all played video games together before dinner. Then, we sat down and all ate dinner together. Abuela's meatloaf recipe was a huge hit, by the way. Anyhow, by the end of the night, Tyler had invited Brandon to sit at our lunch table tomorrow. Mom, Brandon and his family have really been through hell. Reverend Grimes is a total psycho. Treated all of them like shit, but literally tortured poor Brandon. I'm guessing they could all use a good shrink, but nearly all of their bank accounts got frozen when Brandon's dad got arrested, and money's really tight. His mom doesn't have a job because she was never allowed to have one. Jeez, I thought that kind of 'I'm the man of the house' shit went out with the 1950's. Anyhow, do you have any idea how we can help them out?"

"Talk to my mom. She's a social worker, remember? Even though she doesn't work in the same jurisdiction, she must know someone here who could help out. There's got to be government agencies and NGO's that aid victims of abuse. Your abuela would love to talk to you anyway. You should go for a visit soon. Maybe you two can cook up some mole with extra plátano macho," mom laughed.

"Very funny, Mom." I rolled my eyes. "I'll give Abue a call. Hey, I'm gonna jump in the shower and grab some breakfast. I miss you, you know."

"I know. I miss you, too. Now don't go doing anything stupid again, OK?" She implored.

"I got you. Have a good rest of your shoot. Te quiero mucho," I said.

"Te quiero más," Mom said. Then she ended the video chat and I headed for the shower. I checked the clock and it was only 6:20. Plenty of time for a long, hot shower, accompanied by some of that nice, slick bath gel.

I had been too tired, both physically and emotionally the night before to jack off. Hearing Brandon's story and trying to keep Tyler and Eddie calm had really taken everything out of me. But I had a little extra time today.

I slipped into the shower and let the warm water run over my head. It soaked into my auburn curls and soon my hair hung down to my shoulders. I took a glob of shampoo and slowly massaged it into my scalp, loving the feeling of my wet hair slipping through my fingers. As I slowly massaged my scalp, my other head started to wake up. It's weird how different parts of your body can trigger feelings down in your crotch. I rinsed my hair under the strong shower stream and let the suds flow down my chest and abs. Once was enough, none of this 'lather, rinse, repeat' shit.

Next, I grabbed the bath gel. I squirted some onto a wash cloth and let the cloth wander all over my body, starting at my face and hitting that sensitive area right at the base of my neck. My right hand slipped down to grab my quickly stiffening cock as the left one guided the soapy cloth over my now-hard nipples and into my armpits. A quick run over my back, then more squirts of the gel, first into the washcloth, then into my right hand. I moved the washcloth down to my feet and then up my legs, slowly rubbing up and down my inner thighs, the tingling feeling making my meat harder.

Time to ditch the cloth. I squirted a big glob of gel into my left hand and let it wander down to my taint, caressing my big, hairless ball sack, before finding my twitching hole. My fingers did a little dance around my hole, slicking it up with the shower gel, before I slipped a couple of fingers inside. Now, that's a nice wake-up call. My huge cock, now at full mast, was loving the attention from my slicked up right hand. I paid special attention to my throbbing plum of a cockhead, sending waves of pleasure down my shaft and into my nuts. Between the loving I was giving my hole and the stroking I was giving my cock, my balls were starting to tighten up and that tingly rush of orgasm was building.

My breath was coming in short gasps as I pulled my fingers from my hole and grabbed my rod with both hands, stroking my rock-hard shaft for all it was worth. Within seconds, the cum rocketed out of my dick and onto the wall of the shower with a loud splat. Nine shots in all. The wall was a mess. But I felt great!

I splashed water onto the wall to wash off the jizz, turned off the shower and dried off. With some anti-perspirant in my pits and a little bit of product in my hair to keep the curls looking shiny, it was back to my bedroom to put on my usual school uniform: ripped jeans and a t-shirt. I may be queer as hell, but a fussy priss I'm not. I can be showered, dressed and ready in fifteen minutes.

Time check, 6:45. I wanted to have some time with Dad before I had to head off to school. I ran down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, and a couple of breakfast sandwiches: sunny-side up egg, a slice of sharp cheddar, some imported ham, all toasted in butter in the skillet. Ready to go. I poured the coffee, threw the sandwiches onto two plates and ran upstairs to catch Dad in bed. After a quick knock, just to make sure I wasn't intruding on anything that I couldn't unsee later, I waited for Dad to say, "Come on in. I'm awake," then I cracked the door open.

"I brought you breakfast. It's kind of a payback for making me breakfast yesterday," I said.

"Well, this is nice. What did you do that needs forgiving?" Dad smirked.

"Nothing and don't get used to it," I shot back.

I relayed the events of the previous evening and that I'd just spoken to Mom.

"Yeah, she kinda ripped me a new asshole about Sunday night. I deserved it, I guess." I said to Dad. "She says I should talk to Abuela about how to help Brandon and his family."

"Good suggestion. And I'm really proud of you. You always said that you kind of felt sorry for Brandon. Your intuition was right. It sounds like he's been in a living hell his whole life. You also managed to get your friends on board, even though Brandon had hurt them, too. Then you figured out a great way to help Brandon yourself with that video. Honestly, Jaime, you really should think about majoring in public relations. It's only October. There's still plenty of time to look into schools with great PR and advertising programs. Maybe you could minor in video production or do a double major? Just something to think about."

"I'll give it a thought. It's 7:40. I gotta get going. I'll throw the dishes in the dishwasher when I get home this afternoon. What do you feel like for dinner?" I asked.

"Don't worry about the dishes. I got it. I think we could both use the night off tonight. You wanna go out for dinner? Maybe Chinese?" Dad asked.

"Sounds great. Remember that Miguel's coming over for dinner tomorrow, so I'll go to the supermarket before you get home. I can buy food for tomorrow and for the rest of the week, OK? Wanna give me the debit card?"

Dad handed me the debit card and gave me a hug, "I'm looking forward to meeting Miguel tomorrow. Love you. Have a good one."

"Love you, too. You know, you're my favorite dad." I smiled.

"You'd be perfect for public relations. I don't know anyone who can lay on the bullshit any thicker and make it smell so sweet," Dad laughed.

***

Brandon was waiting on the steps of the school as I approached. He smiled when he saw me coming. With a decent haircut and some cooler clothes, he really wouldn't be a bad looking guy. His skin wasn't that bad. Just a couple of zits here and there, but nothing that most kids our age weren't already putting up with. As I walked up the steps, he walked down them and leaned in to give me a hug. The site of two guys hugging wouldn't normally stir up even a sideways glance at my school. This time, kids literally stopped in their tracks, mouths hanging open, as they watched Brandon Grimes, homophobe, racist, anti-Semite, give a gay, multi-racial, part-Jewish kid a hug. For a split second, the world came to a screeching halt.

"What's up, Jaime? How ya doin' today?" Brandon asked, beaming.

The world resumed its movement and students continued on their way, but looking at one another in shocked disbelief.

"I'm doing great, Brandon. How's it going with you?"

"My mom grabbed me when I walked in the door last night," Brandon said. "She saw me smiling and she started getting weepy. She said that she'd lost hope of ever seeing me smile. I told her about dinner and about you and Tyler and Eddie. And how you accepted my apology and want to be my friends. She said that she wants to meet you guys. I'm not ready to tell her about, you know, but I will. I think we're just going to need some time to get over all the shit we've been through with my dad first. But I'll tell her when I'm ready. She's not like my dad, you know. As soon as he was hauled away, my mom said that we're never going to church again. And that we should forget everything my dad ever said because it was all lies to control us. I say, 'Amen' to that, my brother!"

"That's amazing, Brandon. I'm really happy for you."

Brandon continued, "But it took me a while to fall asleep. I just couldn't stop smiling. It's a weird feeling for me. I just wanted to thank you again. I'm gonna remember last night for the rest of my life. I feel like I was born again."

"Well, that's an interesting choice of words," I laughed.

It took a second for Brandon to get the joke. Then he started laughing, too.

"See you at lunch?" I asked.

"Absolutely. Me and my peanut butter and jelly masterpiece will be there," Brandon beamed.

The warm and fuzzy feeling stuck with me only for a few minutes. As I sat in home room, the voiceover wannabe came on the loudspeaker to begin his usual morning drone. After his usual, dull information du jour, he said, "Students are encouraged to watch the latest video on the school's website, produced by senior Jay-me Fine-Cruz on the power of forgiveness. Man, that girl has produced some really fine work, hasn't she?"

"Motherfucker!!! Not only can't you get my name right, but this 'girl' has got an 11" anaconda hanging between her legs," I screamed in my head, while forcing a lame smile to my lips.

Our homeroom teacher just shook her head and looked at me sympathetically.

Then the voiceover wannabe added, "The Gay-Straight Alliance is hosting a coffee house on Thursday in the school cafeteria. Everyone is welcome, especially people bringing baked goods."

***

Tyler, Eddie and I had a couple of minutes to chat before Mr. Choi's second period chemistry class began.

"You know," Eddie began, "I really had fun last night. Sorry about all the drama. I'm cool hanging out with Brandon."

Then Tyler said, "After I got your invite for dinner, I gotta admit, I was pretty horned up, but believe it or not, some things are more important than sex."

I clutched my chest and faked a heart attack, "What did Tyler Jacobs just say?"

"I know, not easy to believe, but after listening to Brandon's story, I really just wanted to hang out with the kid. He and his family could really use some help," Tyler said.

"I'm gonna talk to my grandma who's a social worker," I said. "She'll have some ideas of how to help them. But ya gotta admit, the kid is in serious need of a makeover. Let's think about how we can...

Tyler interrupted me, "Ashley Swenson. The girl with the money and the designer everything. I bet she'd love to take him on as a project."

"That, you hot stud, is an excellent idea," said Eddie.

Chemistry class began right on time. The boring material seemed to drone on forever. Right before class ended, Mr. Choi announced a quiz for next Monday on the textbook's current chapter. Then he turned to Tyler, Eddie and me and said, "And just another reminder, class, that the Gay-Straight alliance is having a coffee house Thursday night at 7:30. This is a good opportunity to put into practice the lesson I taught you on social emulsifiers."

Then the bell rang. "Hey, Tyler, Eddie and Jaime," Mr. Choi said. "Got a second?" We all nodded.

"Are you going to make it on Thursday night? I'd really love it if you could come. Believe it or not, there are kids here who look up to you three and would like to talk to you."

"Yeah, I think we'll all be there, Mr. Choi," I said. "I'm planning to bake something."

"That's fantastic! Please don't bake rainbow cupcakes or red velvet anything. They're so last season," Mr. Choi laughed.

I just smiled. I'd planned to do rainbow cupcakes. I'd figure something else out.

***

Tyler, Eddie and I met up at lunch, as usual. Seán was there at the table already as the three of us sat down. He looked distraught. Before we could ask him what was going on, Brandon walked over.

"Is it OK if I sit with you guys?" he asked.

Seán had a puzzled look on his face, but Eddie, Tyler and I just nodded. Then Eddie said, "Sure, Brandon. Have a seat. Do you know Seán?"

"I've only seen him around. We've never really talked to each other," Brandon said. He turned to Seán, "Hi, I'm Brandon and I'm not really the asshole you think I am."

Seán smiled meekly and gave Brandon a fist bump. Brandon took a seat and pulled out his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

"Hey, Seán, did you get a chance to look at the video that Brandon made with Tyler, Eddie and me? The one that's posted on our social media accounts and the school's website?" I asked.

"Honestly, no," said Seán, "I've been too worried about a problem that I wanted to talk to you guys about. It's kinda private."

"You can talk in front of Brandon. Trust me. He can keep a secret," Eddie said.

Seán began, "Remember when I talked to you guys about going out with Connor Kim and we agreed that I probably should wait a bit to send him a dick pic? So, he and I have been sending each other chats and we've gone out and it's been great. Well, I figured it was time to show him the goods. So, I got myself all hot and bothered and took a picture of my junk. Then I sent him the pic. Only I messed up and sent it to my Irish dance instructor instead."

Four sets of eyes went very wide. "Oh, shit!" I said, "what happened next?"

"I was expecting a lesson on how awful that was and how I should be ashamed of myself, etcetera, etcetera, but instead, he sent me a shot of his dick, too, and said that he thought I was hot and had been waiting until I was old enough," Seán stammered.

"Let's see the picture!!" Tyler screamed, grabbing the phone out of Seán hands. Seán turned bright red. Tyler quickly scrolled though Seán's photos. "Holy shit! This dude is hung huge. And Seán, this one must be you, judging from the flaming red pubes. Pretty impressive yourself. Man, talk about the 'luck of the Irish.'"

"I don't know what to do. I can't take the photo back," Seán lamented.

"Go out with the guy," Eddie said. "Is he cute?"

"Well, yes, he's very handsome and really fit, too. But I'm not really interested," said Seán.

"Why the hell not?" I asked.

"First of all, I really like Connor and want to get to know him better. And second, this guy is really old," said Seán.

"He looked pretty good in the pictures," said Eddie. "Just how old is he?"

"Old. I think he's like...23," Seán moaned.

We all laughed.

"You're hopeless, Seán," Tyler said. "Just tell the guy that you've already got a boyfriend and you sent him the photo by mistake. Then tell him that you've got three hot friends--two gymnasts and a runner--who would love to get a few private dance lessons."

"You guys want to learn Irish dancing?" Seán asked.

"I'm talking about the 'horizontal mambo,' dude. That kind of dance. The one that goes on between the sheets," Tyler just rolled his eyes.

"How are you doing, Brandon?" Eddie asked, changing the subject.

"I'm doing great," Brandon said. "I really had fun with you guys last night. I was thinking about it while I was lying in bed afterwards."

Seán's eyes shot open in surprise.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Seán!" I said. "It was just dinner and video games. Eddie, Tyler and I aren't sluts." Eddie and Tyler burst out laughing. "Well, maybe we are, but Brandon just came over to say he was sorry for some of the stuff he did to us before. We've all decided that he's a pretty good guy after all, so you'll probably be seeing a lot more of him."

"That's cool," Seán said. "Brandon, after all the stuff you said, are you really OK hanging out with gay and bi guys?"

"Totally OK with it," Brandon said, the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly.

"Hey, Tyler, can you shoot me Ashley's phone number? I want to talk to her about that project I mentioned in chemistry," I said.

***

In sixth period AP History class, during a particularly boring lecture about the Visigoths, I texted Ashley:

Me: Hey Ashley. It's Jaime. Tyler Jacob's friend. Got a second?

Ashley Swenson: Sure. Anything's better than this lecture on James Joyce. That guy must have been huffing when he wrote this shit. Makes no sense.

Me: You know Brandon Grimes?

Ashley: The douchebag who says he sorry now? Yeah. What about him?

Me: He's actually a good guy. He's been through a lot. He needs a makeover--new haircut and some decent clothes

Ashley: Even after what he did to you guys, you think he's OK and want to help him?

Me: It's a long story, but yeah. His family's really having a tough time. I can chip in $20, but I was wondering if you would take him on as a project to show off your incredibly good fashion sense and deep pockets? Charity begins at home, U know?

Ashley: LOL. FWIW he really could use a makeover. He's got good bones, but a shit stylist. LOL. And if you guys say he could really use the help who am I to say no? Hey RU guys going to the coffee house thing on Thursday?

Me: Yup. I want Brandon to go, too, so maybe you could get him fixed up by Thursday night?

Ashley: I'll call in some favors.

Me: BTW, he doesn't need to walk a runway, just look like he belongs in this decade. UR the best. XXOO

Ashley: I'll TXT U tomorrow so you can tell Brandon where to meet me.

Me: K

After gymnastics practice ended at 5:00PM, I figured I could be efficient and give my abuela a call as I walked home.

"Hola, Abue ¿Cómo estás?" I said.

"¡Hola, mi amor! I'm good. I talked to your mom today and she said you'd be calling me. How can I help?" Abuela Nyanya said.

I explained the situation with Brandon. After all the drama and press coverage, she knew who he and his father were, but hadn't heard the rest of the story. Once I explained how much of a victim Brandon was, she became much more sympathetic.

"It's sad, but in a situation like this, where his father was accused of crimes outside the home, there's not enough attention paid to the victims inside the home. It sounds like his mother needs some job training or at the very least, some help in looking for work and it sounds as if the whole family could use counselling. I'm sure they're all suffering from trauma. And given that they don't seem to have much money, it's going to be a bit tough. Let me call some contacts in Evanston to see how I can help. I'll email you what I come up with.

So, how are you doing, mi nieto querido?"

"I'm doing great, Abuela," I said. "Things have gotten sooo much better in the past few weeks. I've gotten much closer with my old friends, met some nice new friends and really had a great time hanging out with my Uncle Noah and Jermaine last weekend. The things that you said to me really helped me see things in a different way.

"By the way, the restaurant that Noah took me too is called Azotea. It's Mexican and the food is amazing. And you wanna hear something funny? One of the dishes was pork with a traditional mole manchamanteles made with extra plátano macho."

Abuela started to laugh hysterically, "I bet it was delicioso, just like you."

Once I got home, I took a look at what we needed in the kitchen, got in the car and headed over to the supermarket to stock up for the week. I hadn't been doing enough planning and these daily trips were a waste of energy, both mine and the car's.

I grabbed some proteins and veggies, and made sure we had the usual stuff for the fridge and pantry. I'd been so busy I really hadn't thought much about what I was going to make for Miguel tomorrow, but I wasn't going to have much time. He was coming over at 7:00 and I wouldn't get home until almost 5:30.

I walked up and down the aisles, grabbing what I needed and checking out any hot guys I saw. There's a gym in the same complex as the supermarket, so sometimes there's lots of eye candy in the supermarket and sometimes, nothing. Given that it was a Tuesday, I was surprised to see lots of hot faces, asses and chests. It's usually Monday that's busy with guys feeling guilty about what they ate over the weekend, but last night, when I was here with Brandon, the place had been empty of prime beef.

As I walked down the "Ethnic Foods" aisle...God, I hate that term. It makes it sound like only the food that originated with people who can trace their families back to the Mayflower is "normal." Everything else is "ethnic." Anyhow, walking down that aisle, I see this super cute guy standing in front of the Korean food section. He's about 5'8" (1.73m) tall, maybe Latino, maybe Indian, maybe Middle Eastern with a nice chest and great arms hanging out of his tight tank top. He's got dark brown, thick, almost black hair and big, chocolate eyes. I guess he's about 18. He catches me looking at him and instead of looking away, he checks me out and smiles.

"I don't suppose you know anything about Korean food?" he asked, exposing a perfect smile, probably the result of years of very successful orthodontia.

"Actually, I do know a few things about Korean food. What are you looking for?" I asked, trying not to drool on this very delicious-looking boy.

"My mom sent me to the store to buy sesame oil, rice vinegar, and something called cho-chu-chang paste, but I'm lost," the boy admitted.

"You mean gochujang paste. Right there. The sesame oil you'll find about five feet that way in the Chinese food section and the rice wine vinegar is about five feet the other way in the Japanese food section. Do you need some help finding it?" I asked, smiling slyly.

"That would be awesome," said Mr. Perfect Teeth. "I love all sorts of food, but I don't really know how to cook. My mom does most of the cooking, so I never really pay attention to the ingredients. Thanks for helping me out. I'm Darius. Are you from here?"

"I'm Jaime. And Yup. I'm a senior at Evanston West," I responded.

"And I'm a senior at Evanston East," Darius countered.

I helped him to pick out the few items on his list, looked him straight in the eye, gave him a big smile, and said, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, I've got to get going. My mom's waiting for this stuff." Then, Darius blushed and said, "But maybe you'd wanna grab a coffee, or something else, sometime?"

"Absolutely. I love coffee...and something else." I smiled slyly, then gave him my number and had him call me so that it registered in my phone. "D-A-R-I-U-S?" I asked, as I added him as a contact.

"Yup. "J-A-I-M-E?" Darius asked.

"Wow, I'm impressed. Are you Latino?" I asked, since only Latinxs seem to get the spelling right the first time.

"No, I'm Persian. Both of my parents came to the US from Iran as kids. But I did pay attention in Spanish class," he laughed.

"I'd love to get together sometime. This week's gonna be crazy, but maybe next week? Text me?" I said.

"Will do. You know, you're really cute." Darius said. "I'd love to meet up."

***

Dad arrived home just as I finished putting away the groceries. He walked in, greeted me, gave me a hug, then said, "Still up for Chinese?"

"That's all I've been thinking about all day," I said.

Dad burst out laughing, "I was 17 once, too. I guarantee that food wasn't all you were thinking about all day. Anyhow, I'm starving. I had to work through lunch for a change. Are you ready to go?"

"Yup. Lung Fung?" I said, naming the Chinese restaurant that sounds to English speakers like a respiratory disease you wouldn't want to catch, but which actually means "Dragon Phoenix" in Cantonese. They've been a staple in town since my parents were kids.

"Absolutely. You drive," Dad said, handing me the keys.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we ordered our favorites, soup dumplings and turnip cakes for appetizers, and clay pot rice and beef chow fun for main dishes. As the food arrived, I told dad about our plan for Brandon's makeover.

"So, this girl Ashley comes from a family with lots of money, but she's a really nice, generous girl. She also loves her labels and has great taste," I said. "She's the girl that gave Tyler $100 to help fix his car."

"And exactly why do you think Brandon needs a makeover in the first place?" Dad asked.

"Remember who his dad is," I said. "Brandon was only allowed to get a haircut that looked like it was from the 1950's. And his clothes look like they were bought at a thrift shop, but not a cool thrift shop, a really shitty one. I mean, Dad, you gotta admit that having the right image is important if you want people to like you. Brandon's gonna have a tough enough time getting people to like him because of how he acted before. We just want to help make it easier for him. If he looks cool, people will think he's cool. If he looks like he's trapped in some weird time warp, a lot of kids will stay away. I know, it's superficial, but you gotta admit, it's true."

"Was this all your idea?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, it was." I felt a lecture coming on about "it's what's inside that counts."

"Brilliant," Dad said. "And it was your idea to get Ashley to help?"

"No, that was Tyler's idea. But I reached out to her and told her that with her incredible taste and big bank account, this would be the perfect project for her."

Dad burst out laughing, almost choking on his soup dumpling. "Your knack for maneuvering public opinion just amazes me. Here's $50. Give this to Ashley to help out with Brandon."

"Oh, also, about Brandon," I said, "I talked to Abuela today. She's gonna send me some contact info for people that can help him and his family."

"Nice work, Jaime. Brandon's lucky to have you as a friend. I'm sure he and his family could use a ton of psych help."

"Oh, and Dad, I need to tell you something else, but you've got to keep it to yourself," I said.

"Should I worry about what you're going to tell me?" Dad asked, his brow furrowed.

"No, it's not about me. It's about Brandon. He came out as gay to Eddie, Tyler and me last night."

Dad's eyebrows shot up. "Well, talk about irony. This is certainly a textbook case. I'm guessing his mom doesn't know. This could be really awful for Brandon when she finds out, don't you think?" Dad asked.

"Actually, no. Brandon said that his mom is nothing like his dad and that ever since his dad was arrested, his mom's a completely different person. They've stopped going to church and she basically said that everything his father said had been total bullshit. Brandon just wants to wait until things settle down before he tells her. He figures that things are stressful enough with their money problems and he doesn't want her to worry about him."

As we downed the last of the delicious meal, and dad asked for the check, he said, "You've earned dessert. Got room for an ice cream?"

"Hell, yeah! I'm still bottomless," I said.

"It sure didn't sound that way the night that Tyler and Eddie stayed over," Dad smirked.

End -- "Tripod" -- Chapter 17