Date: Fri, 3 Aug 2018 08:05:35 -0700 From: Paul Landerman Subject: thge old fag chapter 13 Thank you for reading my stories. Please be aware these stories are copyrighted and may not be copied in any format without the express written permission of the author. Further please be aware these stories are fiction, and any resemblance between persons, places, or events described herein are purely coincidental. Please take some time and make a donation to Nifty: this is a great resource and deserves your support. You may donate at: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Thanks very much! In addition, if you wish to communicate with me, please use my email address at: Pjwltx9@gmail.com Chapter THIRTEEN The governor called; Mason was amazed, as he thought that such people were way out of his league. Here was a man who was not simply a former elected official, he was a world-wide household name. "Governor, how kind of you to call; how may I help you?" "Mason, you know that I get all kinds of offers of `help' from all kinds of people. Most of them want to give me advice and then want me to pay them exorbitant fees for their advice. Most of their advice is really bad." "Governor, I can imagine that you are constantly faced with people who have their hands out." "Mason are you talking about my family?" The governor laughed at his own joke. Mason quietly replied "Governor I am sorry I did not mean anything personal by that." "Not a problem, I was joking. Here is the story: I need someone whom I can trust implicitly with a few small economic issues. Do you want to meet me for lunch one day soon? We can do it at my house to avoid the crowds if you would like." "I would love to, that is very generous of you. And I am delighted to have the opportunity to work with you on the panel, it has been a real challenge." "Me too, so about lunch, how is the day after tomorrow? Noon?" "Fine, Governor, and I am sure I can still find my way to your home. May I call for directions if I get lost?" "Anytime, Mason, please feel free." At dinner, Mason and Mario had a quiet evening planned; after opening the wine, Mario said "You seem to have something on your mind." "The governor asked me to lunch at his house in a couple of days." "Wow. Nice. Why?" "Well, that remains to be seen, he said he needed some advice." "Mason, I love you totally and have complete faith in your competence, but a man like that must have all kinds of advice-givers surrounding him?" "Yes, I thought so as well, and he said that is exactly the reason he needs to talk to me." "Well, Darling, I am sure you will be candid with him and give it your best. I love you, good luck." They drank a toast to their marriage and enjoyed a peaceful evening on the patio. The house remodeling project was progressing, and Mason prayed it would be over soon. The project now almost seemed not worth the pain to him, but he knew he would enjoy it as soon as it was finished. Two days later, Mason called Mario as he was driving home from Beverly Hills and asked his husband to meet him at the new Loew's hotel in Santa Monica near Mario's office. "How was lunch?" "Fabulous! Crab fritters, champagne, spinach salad, and chocolate macaroons." "Mason, darling, you are a very droll man. How was the conversation?" "Oh, that? Top secret; national security stuff." "Liar." "Right. Well, he has a number of projects he is involved in, and he wants to try to get to a simpler place in his life financially. He wants me to recommend a financial manager to take care of everything, banking, investments, projects, etc. Also, and this is pretty confidential, he wants to get out of politics without making a national scene about it." "So, what did you tell him?" "I have two or three people in mind that can accommodate his needs, and I also told him I think that just quietly withdrawing from the political scene may be more difficult than it sounds." "Why is that?" "Well darling look at people like Bill Clinton, who has never gotten out of politics after being in the White House. Or Jimmy Carter who is still involved internationally in political stuff. I don't think you can just drop off the game board if you have been as high up as those men." "So what will be your advice?" "Write a book, a memoir, travel, participate in a few international forums or panels a year, but keep out of the party politics and the national debates. Stay away from microphones and newspaper and tabloid reporters, and just enjoy a very busy private life with your kids." "Sounds simple, I hope you are right." "So far it has worked for me, right?" Mason deadpanned. Mario laughed, and almost spilled his wine. "Yes sir, it sure has; I don't think you have been photographed in the LA Times for at least a week." Mason glared at him. "I never volunteered for any of that stuff. Now I know why the celebrities hate the paparazzi." "OK, let's change the subject. How do you like the house so far?" "I am loving it, actually, although I hate the waiting game while the work is getting done." Mario said "I hope you love it after all of the pain of the project. You have been a good sport, though. I know it has been hard for you." "True. I apologize for putting you through my temper tantrums." "It wasn't that bad. I drank a lot to compensate." "Now who is lying?" They laughed at each other, and soon settled into the chaise lounge on the patio, drifting into a mellow mood and a comforting embrace. "Will it always be like this?" Mario asked. "With the house torn up and the paparazzi hounding us and the Mayor and the Governor asking us to do work for them and the house filled with horny surfers?" "Well, no not really, I meant will it always be this easy to love you? Will it always be this peaceful for us? Will we always have these beautiful evenings to just hold each other and let the world fuck off?" "I wish I could promise that, love. I truly do. But I suspect that life is cyclical, and there may be bumps in the road ahead of us that we do not anticipate." Mario settled into Mason's embrace and shivered slightly. He did not know why, but a wave of anxiety gripped him briefly. At just past midnight, Mason's cell phone rang. He did not awaken at first, and after a minute or two he finally dragged himself out of a seriously restful slumber and reacted to the phone. When they reached the Santa Monica hospital, Carlos was heavily sedated and getting prepped for surgery. Mason was frantic; why in the fuck was Carlos in a place where he could catch a couple of bullets in the stomach? Hours later, when the early light of dawn was creeping into the surgical waiting room, Mason was staring out the big windows to the grey Pacific. Mario was sleeping fitfully on a hard plastic chair, and Jeremy's parents and Vince's parents were on opposite sides of the room, staring into space. The lead trauma surgeon had just walked in the room to brief them all on the events of the night. "Jeremy is very lucky, he had superficial wounds to his shoulder and arm, and no bullets lodged in his flesh. He will need two or three weeks to recover, but there is no serious damage to his muscle tissue. He can go home the day after tomorrow." "Vince will be here about a week, and then we will need to see him back a week after that to change his bandages and his cast. His arm was broken cleanly by the first bullet, but the second one broke a rib as it went through his side." He then looked at Mario and Mason and drew a deep breath. "I am afraid we are going to have some serious issues with Carlos. He is still in critical condition, and at the moment all I can tell you is the surgery was successful but he is still what I call at a 50-50 stage. Three shots to his stomach do not quite tell the entire story. His internal organs were pretty torn up and there was significant internal bleeding." "When can we see him?" Mason asked in a very gruff voice. "You can see him now, but he is heavily sedated and sleeping. He may not awaken or even recognize you. Please do not try to engage him in conversation, and only stay a minute or two." Jeremy's father asked "Can we see our sons also?" "Of course, same instructions." Vince's father growled "What in the hell happened here? Why were these three kids in the wrong part of town anyway?" "Depends on what you call the wrong part of town" the sheriff's deputy responded. The man with the giant dick at Mason's party last year suddenly strode into the waiting room. Phil Downey quickly smiled to Mason and Mario and shook their hands, then turned to face the neighbor parents. "Kids are pretty mobile these days, especially college kids, and these boys are 20 or 21 years old, so they are hardly kids anymore" he began. Jeremy's mother began sobbing. "What we do know for certain is, the shooter was identified and caught, and it seems that these boys were just in the way of a bad transaction that was going on around them as they were walking back to their car." He went on to explain that a drug deal had gone badly, just at the moment the three boys were walking from a gay nightclub in West Hollywood to where they had left the BMW. Neither Jeremy's parents nor Vince's parents were happy to hear any of this. "You have to admit these boys were pretty lucky. There was a cop on the scene in under two minutes, and an ambulance in less than ten minutes, so it could have been a lot worse." "But why in West Hollywood?" Jeremy's father asked. "Well, sir, I can't answer that, but I am sure that when all three of them are able to get together and meet with all of us we can get the answers you need." Jeremy's father was not accustomed to being put off; he wanted answers now and was deeply frustrated. Mason and Mario just held each other and stifled a sob; their embrace was not comforting to the other parents. After the neighbor parents left to visit their son's rooms, the deputy turned to Mason and Mario and hugged them. "Sure glad to see you" Mason breathed. "Hey, I am sure glad I got assigned to this; right time right place I guess, huh?" Mario said "We are deeply grateful you are here and can help us with this. It could have been very messy." "I think the messy part is still ahead with those families" Phil replied. Mason and Mario spent just under five minutes standing in the doorway of Carlos' room; the boy they now considered their son was breathing deeply, assisted by the hospital apparatus. The frightening tubes and needles coming out of him were no comfort to the two men watching him. Stuart showed up just as they were turning to leave; he was in complete panic. "Uncle, my god, what happened?" He was practically shouting. They took him down the hall to the waiting room and began to explain the circumstances. "We have to get to the bottom of this" Stuart was shouting again. "Son, look, please, be calm, we have had a terrible night, and right now we need you to be as calm as possible. First, if the paparazzi get hold of this we are in for a terrible ride. Second, Carlos needs all our support and love right now, and we need to pull together and be united. The police already have the shooter in custody. We just met with the deputy in charge of the investigation." Stuart slumped into a chair. "What can I do?" he asked. "Just as Mason said, be calm, be united, be loving, help us with all that we need to do together as a family to help Carlos." Mario appeared much calmer than he felt. By the end of the week, Carlos was awake most of each day, and very upset to be trapped in a hospital bed. He wanted to go home, and he wanted revenge on the cholo bastard that had put him in this place. He complained every day to Mason and Mario and anyone who might listen, and by the following Sunday morning the hospital staff was begging the doctor to release him. With his condition, Carlos could not travel up and down the stairs to his room over the garage, so they switched him to the guest room on the main floor. Stuart helped with all of the heavy lifting, bringing Carlos' clothing and books downstairs for him. Sitting on the sofa in the great room staring out to the intense blue Pacific, Carlos breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in weeks. "I am so glad to be home" he almost cried. "We are glad to have you back" Mason said, and soon was joined by Mario and Stuart in a big hug for their adopted Venezuelan son. "It's too bad a tragedy like this has to happen to make us remember what is so very important" Mario said. A day later, the doorbell rang and Mason was faced with two agitated families from the neighborhood: Vince and Jeremy were with their parents and asked if they could speak with Mason and Mario and Carlos. When Jeremy's father began in a loud and angry voice asking Mason what he thought he was doing by allowing his son to drag innocent boys around in the dregs of horrible homosexual neighborhoods in Hollywood and entering a gay bar, Mario stood up and started to challenge him. "First, you need to be calm and set an example for your son; second, you need to realize these young men are not babies anymore, they are adults and they make their own decisions and they may not have to ask you for permission whenever they are making those decisions." Mario sounded a lot calmer than his boiling inner feelings. Stuart interjected. "I think it may be useful to ask your sons why they were in that neighborhood and what they were doing that night" he offered. Vince looked at Jeremy and blanched; Jeremy looked at the floor. Jeremy's mother stared at Stuart. "Do you know what the answer is?" she asked. "I may have an educated guess, but I think it may be wiser for these young men to speak for themselves" he answered. Carlos said "Jeremy and Vince and I are buddies at Santa Monica College, we study together, we carpool together, we hang out together, and that night we decided to party together." It was a half-hearted explanation, and finally after a heavy silence, Jeremy said "Mom, Dad, I asked Carlos to take us to that bar." "A gay bar?" Jeremy's Dad was shouting. "Yes sir." "Why?" "Well, see..." and he was interrupted by Vince. "I am gay" Vince volunteered. Then he said "And..." "So am I" whispered Jeremy. "So now you know why we three were together in a gay bar in West Hollywood and got accidentally shot that night" Carlos finished. "You are gay too?" Jeremy's mother asked. "Yes ma'am. And I am not willing to hide it anymore. Getting shot kind of changed my attitude." Mason was on edge. He could feel the tension in the room, and Mario was watching intently to monitor the reactions of the parents. Stuart stepped up again and said "Well let me try to help you all with this. I never had a chance to explain to my mother that I am gay, and why, and so forth, and now she is gone, and I regret that. I lived a wonderful life as a child, I loved my parents, and had a great example in my Uncle here, Mason Taylor, whom you might recognize as a nationally-known journalist. But my point is, you folks now have a chance to make this a great learning experience for all of you, rather than a tragedy. You have great boys, and yes they may be gay, but they love you and want to still be a part of your great families. That takes some courage." Stuart waited for a full minute before continuing. Breaking the silence, he said "So I guess what I am asking you to consider is this: these boys are great friends, they take care of each other, they don't do drugs, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and they are still here with us, we did not lose anyone, and they still love you and want to be a part of your lives. Can we all just get along?" And he smiled at the cliché. Jeremy's mother stood and hugged him; his father joined them a moment later. Vince's parents had been totally silent all this time, but they soon fell into a hug with Vince. Soon, the room was filled with hugs, between Carlos, Jeremy, Vince, the parents, and Mario and Stuart and Mason. "Would you have supper with us this Friday?" Mason asked. "Not to twist your arms, but we will have a special guest; an unemployed politician will be here with us." Mario laughed; only he knew that the Governor was coming to dinner. The Governor had been out of the country when the shooting occurred, and he wanted to visit Carlos and check up on his favorite immigrant. Friday's event was great; Mario and Mason had an opportunity to get to know their neighbors better, the Governor was a superb guest and very funny and entertained everyone with hilarious stories about both Hollywood and politics, and the three boys, newly out of the closet, seemed to be able to relax for the first time around their parents. In the middle of after-dinner drinks, Vince's father asked Stuart if he and Carlos were boyfriends; Carlos answered and said "No sir, we are best friends. Stuart is way too hard to please and I am not sure he is my type." The Governor was the first to respond, with a burst of laughter. "So, the immigrant is the one who is biased?" he laughed. Stuart was blushing, Mason was hardly breathing, Mario was doubled over laughing, and Jeremy's mother was blushing along with Stuart. "So what is your type?" Stuart demanded. "Still breathing" Vince said. That stopped the entire room, until Jeremy fell down on the sofa from laughing. Everyone soon joined him in the joke. The party was over well before midnight; the Governor thanked Mason and Mario profusely for their hospitality, and he urged Carlos to stay away from bad neighborhoods. He shook hands with the neighbors and kissed each of the mothers on the cheek. He hugged Mason and was soon gone. The neighbors chatted briefly for a minute after the Governor's departure, and then left for home. The boys all stayed in the great room for another hour, mulling over all that had happened, while Mason and Mario found their way to bed. Mason was the first awake on Saturday morning, and as he went to make coffee noticed the guest room door ajar, and three sleeping boys in the one king-size bed. He smiled; perhaps something good might come out of this after all. It was nearly dark that night when the Phil Downey dropped by to ask Carlos some questions concerning the investigation, and asked Mason when the next party might be; Carlos smiled curiously, not knowing that the deputy was `an old friend'.