We're in This Together
This story may occasionally include explicit depictions of sexual acts between consenting adult males. If you are underage or it is illegal to view this for any reason, consider yourself warned. If you find this material offensive, please leave.
This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to people, living or dead, is entire a coincidence. As the author, I keep all rights to this story, and it cannot be reproduced or published without explicit consent from me. This work is copyright © 2017 by Steven Wells.
I love to hear any feedback you have, be it positive or negative. Send me an email with any comments or questions at steve@stevenwellswriter.com.
This is a sequel to my original story on Nifty.org, Sam and Chris. I have tried to make this a standalone story. I look forward to hearing from you.-
"We have our sights on a two-hundred-acre farm," Frank explained. "The house is shit, but livable. We want to build a house. Our dream house."
"The home site sits on a hill," Daniel continued. "It's about five miles south of town."
"The Ritter farm?" I asked.
"How did you know?" Frank asked.
"Frank," I said. "This is the Midwest... flat, windswept farms. The Ritter farm is the only one with a house on a hill. It's bigger than two-hundred acres though."
"The owners offered the farm as two plots," Frank explained. "The one we want to buy with the house, and a three-hundred-acre plot adjacent to it. If we knew what we were doing, we would start an organic farm. But, sadly, what we know about farming would fit in a shot glass."
"You could buy the whole farm and have someone run it," Chris suggested.
"My dad probably knows someone who might be interested," I added. "Or, talk to Philip Harris-LeBlanc. He runs the organic farm my family used to own."
"Besides, we can't afford three-hundred additional acres," Daniel continued.
"I know someone who owns a bank," I replied as I stole a glance at Chris.
The adult conversation ended when three boys and five dogs descended from the second floor. Mayhem ensued.
"So, tell me what you've found out, Sawyer," I said as Sawyer settled into the chair in front of my desk. Frank had picked his seat already.
"I'll start from the beginning," Sawyer said as he handed Frank and me a summary sheet. "It's an interesting organization. Five staff members. Housed in a not-so-terrific facility in the heart of Lafayette Park. The organization places roughly fifty kids a year in homes. It has a waiting list of about three hundred. Needless to say, some of these kids may never find an actual family and spend the rest of their childhood in foster care or group home environment. The kids range in age from three months to sixteen years."
"Why is it in St. Louis as opposed to Chicago?" I asked.
"Two gay men, Gus, a pastor, and Harry, a social worker, founded the organization after discovering most of the adoption agencies in the area won't place HIV positive kids with families," Sawyer continued. "Gus and Harry live in St. Louis and adopted a set of HIV positive twin boys. When they realized the enormity of the problem, they founded this group. They would like to move the organization's office to a more serene environment. I immediately thought of you, Sammie."
"How did you find out all this information?" I asked.
"I called them," Sawyer continued. "I picked up the phone, punched in their number, someone answered, and, voila, information. You look pale, Frank. Is something wrong?"
"Uhm," Frank stammered. "How can there be a waiting list of three hundred kids? They're kids for Christ sake!"
"Medical issues can scare people away, Frank," I explained. "The adopting family needs to have a really good health insurance plan and access to a good infectious disease doctor. Donny came to us when he was only three. We've had one medical scare, and we rushed Donny to the ER in Champaign. And the care doesn't stop when he's a certain age. It's a lifetime commitment. We'll be trekking to Chicago at least once a year to see Donny's infectious disease doctor. So, adopting an HIV positive kid isn't without some hardships."
"Do you and Chris ever regret adopting Donny?" Frank asked.
"Never," I replied. "We also knew Mathew and Joshua might be HIV positive when they were born. We were lucky."
"So, what do you want to do with all this information?" Sawyer asked.
"I need to think about this for a few days," I replied. "I also need to speak with Dr. Brandon Martin."
"The pediatrician?" Sawyer asked
"Yes," I replied.
"I see wheels turning, Sam," Sawyer added as he prepared to leave the office. "Let me know if you need any more dirt dug."
"Got it," I replied as Sawyer left my office. I turned my attention to Frank. "Frank, would you please investigate the ramifications of moving the agency from St. Louis to this town. And, if anyone asks, you don't know anything about a move of any sort."
"Got it, boss," Frank replied. "I have a question for you, Sam. How do you think Daniel and I would be at raising an HIV positive kid?"
I moved to a chair beside Frank and sat down.
"Frank," I said. "I think the two of you would be excellent parents for any kid. You certainly have knowledge about what it's like living with HIV. If you have doubts, talk with Dr. Martin. He could give you medical advice about what to expect with an HIV positive child. This really hit you hard, didn't it?"
"Yea," Frank replied. "I just can't imagine all those kids who are HIV positive, without parents, and stored at a foster family or group home. It sucks!"
"It does suck," I added. "Chris and I never thought we'd have a kid the day we went out to walk the dogs. But we do. He happens to have a problem which we keep under control. I wouldn't change anything, though."
"I'll talk with Daniel about us and the kids," Frank said. "In the meantime, I'll investigate the relocation."
~~~~~
"Enrique Santander to see you, Sam," Clarise said as she stepped inside my office with Enrique beside her.
"Thank you Clarise," I said before turning my attention to Enrique. "Welcome to BuzzZone. How was your trip?"
"Everything went smoothly," Enrique replied. "I didn't realize how much I missed Chicago and the Midwest until the plane landed. The people here seem more relaxed and polite. New Yorkers are not relaxed nor are they polite."
"This town is even a little quieter than Chicago," I explained. "I always thought when I graduated from UIUC I'd find a job in Chicago and live happily ever after. It didn't happen. Did Greg show you around town yesterday evening?"
"Yes," Enrique replied. "It's a nice area. We also had a nice chat over dinner."
AJ, Max, and Glen appeared in the doorway to my office.
"Enrique," I began. "I'd like you to meet our welcome team, AJ, Max, and Glen. This is Enrique. Please show Enrique around the office, take a few moments to chat in the conference room, and we'll go to lunch together when you're finished talking."
"Will do, boss," AJ said to me as he and the others left my office for the tour.
I settled in with a stack of interior design ideas for the new office. My concentration on designs didn't last long. My phone rang.
"This is Sam," I said as I picked up the call.
"Sam," a deep voice said. "This is Zach. Do you have a moment to talk?"
"Sure," I replied. "What can I do for you today, Zach?"
"We might have an issue with the house," Zach said slowly.
"What kind of issue?" I asked.
"We've discovered an environmental issue brought to our attention by the state Environmental Protection Agency," Zach explained.
"We have a state Environmental Protection Agency?" I asked.
"Yes," Zach explained. "The geothermal wells we need for the heating and cooling system need a special permit for us to start the drilling. Here's where this gets a little tricky. There are only two contractors in the state because the EPA didn't start licensing the contractors until about three months ago. One has projects booked through the next year."
"The other one?" I asked.
"It's owned by Silas Ritter," Zach explained. He paused to gauge my reaction.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said at the top of my voice. "Silas Ritter is the son of the Jonas Ritter who's on the planning board, and the grandson of John Ritter, who is my father's racist ex-friend. How coincidental. Next you'll tell me a Ritter relative runs the EPA!"
Zach sat and said nothing.
"Well?" I asked, not liking the way this discussion continued.
"It's not a blood relative," Zach said. "It's run by the brother-in-law of Jonas Ritter who's on the planning board."
"Who made him head of the EPA?" I asked. My voice became slow and deliberate so I wouldn't explode.
"The governor appointed him," Zach added. "The Governor also created the EPA last year without fanfare." He waited for my response.
"The same governor who ran on a platform of eliminating unnecessary regulations and bureaucratic departments," I said. Still slow and deliberate. "I didn't like him before he ran, and I don't like him any better now. Why can't this state elect a governor from Chicago? Someone I don't know. Someone who doesn't have a beef with me... What do you want me to do, Zach?"
"Have the guy who runs the EPA fired," Zach said in a whispered voice.
"How?" I asked.
"I understand, and don't ask me how I know this, he's had some issues with gambling in the past," Zach explained. "And it's rumored he's getting his most recent gambling debt settled in some unsavory fashion."
"How do you know this?" I asked.
"Ah... I talked to your father a few days ago while he visited the site," Zach explained. "He knows this because he's doing some research on a book."
"Oh, God!" I exclaimed. "I'll be toast when this book comes out. I just know it."
"Your father also suggested you hire Tina and Bradley to dig up some dirt," Zach continued. "They've already worked on some research for your father and mother's book."
"My father and mother hired private investigators to dig up dirt for their upcoming book?" I asked. "Isn't it considered cheating if you don't dig up you own dirt for a tell all book?"
"I doubt there is a rule book covering this particular technique," Zach said. I detected a smile.
"No," I said. "I suppose not. How will this little wave of bad luck affect the time in which we have an actual house in which we can actually live?"
"We can continue with the house without the wells," Zach explained. "We'll run all the necessary plumbing no matter what happens with this. The geothermal heating and air conditioning system has an auxiliary backup heat pump which is powered by electricity."
"So, we can still proceed with building the house?" I asked.
"Yes," Zach replied. "I'll leave you alone so you can get back to work. Sam, let me know how you and Chris want me to proceed."
"Thank you for speaking with me this morning, Zach," I said. "I appreciate your help with this latest mess. I thought we were done with the Ritter bullshit when the feds threw John Ritter in jail. Sadly, we're not."
~~~~~
AJ, Max, and Glen appeared in my office doorway with Enrique.
"You have our comments, correct?" AJ asked.
"Yes, thank you," I replied. "Have a seat Enrique. We can discuss a few items."
AJ, Max, and Glen left, and Enrique took a seat in front of my desk.
"Do you have any questions for me, Enrique?" I asked.
"No," Enrique replied. "I understand your business and the job you would expect me to do now. Your team made me feel like I'm already part of this organization. Thank you."
"You're welcome," I replied. "I want to make you a job offer, Enrique. I am offering you a position as Digital Media Producer for the company. You and Greg will be our Digital Media department for the moment. You'll create animation, special effects, visual images and other media for games, Web sites, movies, videos, commercials or music on the computer."
"Just like the snap of your fingers, you're offering me a job?" Enrique responded. He looked more than a little surprised. "Don't you want to speak with the others?"
"I already have," I replied. "They unanimously want me to offer you a job.
"Oh," Enrique said in a whisper.
"I'd like to offer you seventy-thousand a year with ninety-day performance reviews for the first year," I began to explain. "Clarise will explain the details of our benefit package, including four weeks of vacation each year, usual sick days, profit sharing, medical insurance, and, potentially, a seat on our Partner Team. Questions?"
"I accept," Enrique said. "When do you want me to start?"
"As soon as you can," I replied. "I'm certain you have things to take care of at home before you resettle here."
"Pack my bags and put things in my backpack," Enrique said. "I travel lightly."
"I used to say I travelled lightly, too," I continued. "But we had a huge moving van to move our things from Champaign down here. No more traveling lightly. We also have three kids. You'll meet my husband Chris once you've settled in. Oh! Do you have a car?"
"A beater," Enrique replied. "I don't believe it will make it out here."
"Talk to Clarise about travel arrangements before you leave," I suggested. "We'll pay for a hotel room while you find a place to live. Well also find a car for you to use until you buy one. BuzzZone has arranged for the local bank to provide extremely low interest rates to our employees for cars or a house."
"I don't know what to say," Enrique said. "This is all so sudden. But, I'm really grateful for the chance to work with everyone here."
"We're grateful you decided you'd like to work at BuzzZone," I further explained. "Welcome to our team! I'll walk you to Clarise's workstation so she can explain everything. Do you and Greg have plans for tonight?"
"Yes," Enrique responded.
"Good," I replied as I led Enrique to Clarise.
"Are you ready to speak with Enrique, Clarise?" I asked as we stopped beside Clarise's desk.
"Absolutely," Clarise said. "Have a seat, Enrique. We have a mound of forms for you to sign, and we need to talk about your travel arrangements for your return trip."
I left Enrique in Clarise's capable hands. I went to find Greg.
"Greg," I said as I sat beside Greg's workstation. "We've made an offer to Enrique, and he's accepted. Please take him out to dinner somewhere nice—the steakhouse comes to mind. Use the company American Express card to pay for any expenses."
"But I don't have a company American Express card," Greg responded.
"Oh! I forgot," as I put the envelope in front of Greg. "This is yours. Use it anytime you have business expenses. You can break it in tonight."
"Thanks," Greg said as he slowly opened the envelop as though he didn't believe the card would be inside.
~~~~~
"Let me get this straight," Chris began. I could tell he was pissed. "Some idiot at some state agency decided the only person who would get geothermal well drilling business would be the son of Jonas Ritter who is the asshole on the planning board on a mission to drive us crazy."
"Don't forget the brother-in-law of Jonas Ritter runs the EPA for the State of Illinois and dreamed up this idea in the first place," I added. "And, yes, I'm sorry to say, you've gotten the facts down fairly well."
"This pisses me off!" Chris exclaimed. "I see a legal battle ensuing here. Shall I call my grandfather?"
"Probably, but I want Frank to be the face of this case," I said to Chris. "We don't need a `high powered attorney from Chicago' running things in this town! It could turn even uglier."
"You're probably right, Sam," Chris said to me. "You always are you know, right I mean."
"Thank you," I said just as soon as my phone began ringing. "It's Frank."
"Hello, Frank," I said. "Thanks for calling."
"My pleasure," Frank said. "We were at the bank this afternoon. We qualify for a mortgage on the entire five-hundred-acre farm. Now we need to figure out how we could pay for it."
"Rent it out to a local farmer," I suggested.
"The mortgage guy at the bank said the same thing," Frank explained. "Enough about banks, loans, and farms. You called. What can I help you with?"
I explained the whole mess.
"You have quit a conundrum there," Frank responded after I had finished. "You could take them to court in two ways. One, you'd frame the issue as the regulation, not even a law, brings harm to your building plan, especially if the agency has never used the regulation to stop anyone other than you from completing their project with an unlicensed contractor. >From what I believe you said, the senior Mr. Ritter is a racist. Am I correct, Sam?"
"Yes," I replied.
"We could frame this as a discrimination issue," Frank explained. "The other option would be to let your investigators dig up dirt, but keep in mind, this is bordering on back mail."
"What if we didn't bring it to the head of the EPA, but brought it to the state ethics committee?" I asked. "The information somehow could appear out of thin air on the ethics committee agenda without being tied to our house."
"Can you pull this off without getting arrested?" Frank asked. "I don't want to post bail for you some time in the dark of night."
"I have the perfect person in mind," I said as a lightbulb went off in my head. "Thank you, Frank, for your help. Pretend this conversation never happened."
"What conversation?" Frank asked.
"Go pull Daniel off the ceiling," I suggested. "I would think the idea of buying a five-hundred-acre farm has him dancing on the ceiling."
"Yup," Frank replied. "Talk to you soon."
We ended the call, and I turned to Chris, "What do you think about my idea, Chris?"
"Who do you have in mind to do this?" Chris asked.
"My father, who else?" I said.
~~~~~
Tina, Bradley, and my father sat in my office the day after the telephone call from Zach. I had just explained our dilemma.
"Wouldn't it be simpler if you just figured out another way to heat and cool your house?" Bradley asked.
"Yes," I replied. "But it's the principle. I don't like getting screwed. I take after my father in that respect. Right, Dad?"
"Yup," my father replied with no additional words.
"You know this won't be cheap?" Tina asked.
"Did I ask how much it would cost?" I said. "Revenge will be worth it. Is it doable?"
"Of course, Sam," Tina said. "Do you doubt my ability?"
"No, Tina," I replied. "I watched you stand up for a lot of people who were being trampled on in high school including me. You are more than capable in my mind."
"Good," Tina continued. "Do you have a budget?"
"Tell me what you think it will cost plus or minus a few hundred thousand," I replied. "I'll make my decision based on the numbers."
"Less than one-hundred-thousand," Tina replied. "If this dude is in as big as we think he is and he's trying to finance his gambling debt using non-traditional approaches, then, we should be able to nail down the details fairly quickly. Building the case against the guy will take most of the time. Unless you call in the feds - it's pretty certain, if his debt is as big as we think it is, he's using a mob connection to finance this."
"Oh shit!" I responded. "I do get a little nervous when I hear the words the `Feds' and the `mob' both describing the same situation. What do you think, Dad?"
"I wouldn't be too nervous, Sam," my father began. "When we called the Feds in to take care of John Ritter and the county, it went fairly smoothly."
"I had forgotten, Dad, you've had experience calling in the Feds," I added. "Makes me so much less nervous to have someone as experienced as you involved in this."
"We aren't doing anything illegal, Sam," Bradley said. "We're just conducting private research on the ties state employees have with the mob. We might even sell this information to the state. They'd probably be very interested in drying up illegal action by their employees."
"Send the bills to me," my Dad said to Tina and Bradley. "We don't want BuzzZone to get wrapped up in this. Besides, this makes me fucking mad! I don't want my son-in-law and my grandkids to face this racial hatred bullshit, which we all know it is. I thought we had gotten rid of this baggage when we sent John Ritter off to jail."
"Maybe it's genetic, Dad," I added. "Racism must run rampant in the Ritter clan's gene pool."
"Do you need a contract for this work, Tina?" I asked.
"No," Tina replied. "We don't want a paper trail. Besides, Sam, I trust you. I also wouldn't tell anyone about our little operation. We need to keep this as quiet as possible; otherwise, we'll have the mob and the Feds after us."
"I thought you said this wasn't illegal," I exclaimed as Tina and Bradley stood to leave.
"It's not, Sam," Bradley responded. "Trust us on this one."
My father and I sat in my office for a few moments before we said a word.
"I'm proud of you, Sam," my father said to me. "You have principles. This isn't about using geothermal wells to heat and cool your home. It's about making this place safe for your husband and your kids. It's about getting rid of hate."
"Thanks, Dad," I said in a whisper. "Will you tell Mom about his project?"
"If I don't, I'll wind up with no balls," my father said. At least he was smiling.
~~~~~
I started thinking of the day and the events around Zach's announcement as I parked the car in our garage.
`Why can't I have a normal life like most people in this town?' I said to myself. Then, I walked into the kitchen from the garage. I encountered mayhem.
Donny, followed by five dogs, followed by Joshua and Mathew ran from one end of the kitchen to the other end. Then, back. After three rounds, I called a halt to the madness.
"Stop!" I exclaimed. Donny, the dogs, and Joshua and Mathew slid to a stop in front of me.
"What's wrong, Dad?" Donny asked.
"Nothing is wrong, Donny," I explained. "Why all the running back and forth?"
"It's my fault," Chris said sheepishly. He stood in the middle of the kitchen. "I turned my back on them for two seconds, and they devoured a plate of cookies. I think it's a sugar high. Nothing to worry about though. It's not permanent. How was your day?"
"Chris," I said with the best calm voice I could muster. "I walk into the house and find three boys and five dogs running laps in the kitchen, and I feel more relaxed than I have all day."
"That bad, huh?" Chris asked.
"I have a lot to discuss with you, Chris," I replied. "We'll need a drink or two to manage the conversation we need to have. So, why don't we work on feeding the boys. Then we can go on to other items on our agenda."
"The day must be worse than I thought," Chris said as he pulled me towards him and into a hug. Then a kiss.
"Daddy?" Donny asked. "Are you going into your bedroom and lock the door?"
Chris and I looked at one another.
"We've been busted, Sam," Chris said as he released me from the hug. "Not now, Donny."
"Okay," Donny replied. "Can we have another cookie?"
"No!" both Chris and I exclaimed in unison.
Chris and I decided we needed to go into father mode and try to settle the boys into a calmer state.
"I'll start dinner," Chris suggested.
"I'll do the bath routine," I said as I grabbed the twins and motioned for Donny to follow. The dogs must have known I wasn't in the best of moods because they elected to stay with Chris in the kitchen.
I managed to get through the water-soaked adventure called bath time without being entirely saturated.
"Okay, guys," I finally said to the now-clothed-in-sleep-wear boys. "It's time to have dinner. Follow me, please."
We arrived in the kitchen to see Chris lobbing the remnants of the boys' dinner to the dogs. One by one.
"Hello, sweetie," I said to Chris as I put the boys in their proper chairs. "Having fun?"
"I am," Chris replied as he gathered the boys' dinner to bring to the table. "It's amazing how much fun you can have with just you and five mutts."
The dogs paused, sat, and looked sternly at Chris.
"I believe they're sensitive to name calling," I said to Chris.
"I'm sorry," Chris said to the dogs and gave each one a pat on the head.
They moved off to their corner and settled in for their nap.
"You're forgiven," I said to Chris. "I never asked before, but did you have a good day?"
"Apparently better than yours," Chris said as he sat on the barstool next to mine. "The only odd incident happened in first period band practice. Sheila Carrington hit Bobby Boyd with her trumpet. He wasn't injured, but the trumpet suffered. It may never be the same."
"Why did she hit him?" I asked.
"He started playing the first trumpet's music," Chris explained. "Sheila has become extremely protective of her position as first trumpet."
We heard the dogs stir and run straight to the front door. Then, the doorbell rang.
"Were you expecting someone?" I asked Chris.
"Nope," he replied as we both moved to the door. The front door camera showed my father and mother outside.
"Hello, Mom, Dad!" I effused as I opened the door. "Come in and watch the kids involve themselves in a food fight."
"We won't stay long," my mother said as we headed toward the kitchen to survey the eating process. "You father needs to tell you something."
We all looked at Dad waiting for him to speak.
"I discovered more to this mess with the EPA," my father began. "It seems there are several players. All of them are at risk."
"Who?" I asked. "And what risk?"
"It's best you don't know the names at this point," my father continued. "Just understand the chain of command goes up from the EPA chief."
"Oh!" I replied. "They all appear to be complicit in ties to unsavory people?"
"Yes," my father responded.
"What do we do now?" Chris asked.
"Hire security," my father replied. "These people definitely have ties to the mob. This will not be a walk in the park."
"Do any of these people know who is involved in this project?" I asked.
"No," my father replied. "They don't even know someone is investigating them. Tina and Bradley continue to be the public faces of this inquiry. I don't believe any of us are in danger right now, but we might be if this goes to the top."
"Swell," Chris said. "We're in a pickle, aren't we?"
"It's just like you, Chris," I added. "We're fearing for our lives, and you suggest `We're in a pickle.'"
"I didn't want to frighten you, Sam," Chris argued.
"Thank you for your help," I said to Chris before I turned my attention back to my father. "I'll speak to Tina and Bradley tomorrow. In the meantime, we'll turn on the alarm."
"Good idea," my father said before my mother and father left.
~~~~~
I arrived at the house we bought for Tom and Harrison's friends Sheila and Ronny. We were turning the keys over to them today. The contractor had refinished the hardwood floors and painted every room. A local appliance store donated a new fridge, range, and dishwasher. The furniture BuzzZone Family Foundation purchased for the whole house had been delivered yesterday. The place looked amazing.
I heard Harrison and Tom's car pull into the driveway, and I went outside to welcome the new owners.
"Welcome to your new home, Sheila," I said as she led Ronny to the front porch followed by Tom and Harrison.
"Thank you for all you've done, Mr. Williamson," Sheila said to me. "I still can't believe this is happening. Finally, for the first time since Ronny was born, we'll have a place to live."
"We're delighted we could help," I replied before I handed Sheila the keys. "Now, let's go see your new home."
Sheila tentatively stepped through the front door.
"Oh my!" she exclaimed as she looked around the house from the front door.
I had the contractors open the main living area so it looked more spacious. You could see the dining area and the sliders to the deck straight from the entry. You looked into the seating area immediately to the right of the entry. The kitchen sat to the left of the living area and was tucked into the rear corner of the house.
"This is so beautiful," Sheila replied. "Everything looks so new."
"It is," Harrison explained. "We managed to put all the furniture together for the entire house with the help of the Buzzer's Family Foundation and some very generous terms from the owner of a furniture store here in town."
"The appliance store in town generously donated the appliances in the kitchen," Tom added. "This is a real community effort, Sheila. It makes you want to hug everyone in town."
"Mommy," Ronny said as he tugged on his mother's slacks. "Can we see where I'll be sleeping?"
"Of course," Sheila replied. Harrison led the way down the hall.
"A bunny!" Ronny shrieked as he entered to room and saw the bunny portrait Tom and Harrison painted on the wall.
"Do you know about the Velveteen Rabbit story?" Harrison asked after he knelt down on Ronny's level.
"No," Ronny said.
"It's about a stuffed rabbit and a little boy," Harrison explained. "Maybe your mom could read it to you tonight so you know all about the Velveteen Rabbit."
"We just happen to have a copy we can loan you, Ronny," Tom added. "The story is about a Velveteen Rabbit, and his journey to become real. You'll understand better after your mother reads you the story. Real is not about the you people see. Real is about what's here."
He pointed towards Ronny's heart.
"Are you the same two computer geeks who work for me?" I asked.
"We have a life outside the box, so to speak," Harrison replied. "So, Ronny, how do you like your bed and dresser?"
Ronny didn't speak but slowly moved towards the bed. The stuffed animals near the pillows caught his attention. He examined each one.
"We have another room to look for," I suggested. "Lead the way to the Master bedroom, Harrison."
"Yes, boss," Harrison replied as he stepped out of Ronny's room and into the room on the opposite side of the hallway.
"This is amazing!" Sheila exclaimed as she stepped into the room. "All this room for just one person!"
"You have your own bathroom and walk-in closet," Tom explained.
"My walk-in closet in the past has been the back seat of my car," Sheila said with a glimmer of a tear in her otherwise happy eyes.
"Which just died, by the way, Sam," Harrison added.
I smiled at Harrison. He smiled back.
"How am I ever going to afford the maintenance and the utilities?" Sheila asked herself in a whisper.
"Where did you grow up, Sheila?" I asked.
"Here," she replied. "I was a few years ahead of you in high school, Mr. Williamson. My maiden name was Ryan. My father is Jeff Ryan, and my former husband, Ken Sanchez, was killed in Iraq one year after we were married. Ronny never met him."
"You have a brother named Jason?" I asked.
"Had a brother named Jason," Sheila replied. "He slipped into a PSTD-induced drug addiction after a tour of duty in Afghanistan. I haven't heard from him for almost two years."
"Where are your parents?" Tom asked.
Sheila looked at me.
"Her father owns the lumber yard in town," I explained. "Now it all makes sense."
"What makes sense, Sam?" Harrison asked.
"My parents owe allegiance to the most conservative evangelical church in the area," Sheila replied. "They didn't approve of my marriage to Ken. Sanchez wasn't in their vocabulary. Mr. Williamson's father, Charles, and my father have been at odds for several years. Their squabble made the newspapers several times."
"Your father must have had kittens when he heard my husband and I moved back here," I added.
"I can only imagine," Sheila replied. "I hope you won't hold this against me, Mr. Williamson."
"The name is Sam, Sheila," I replied. "Secondly, I'll never hold anything against you. You can bank on it... Speaking of banks, I need to make a phone call when I get back to the office."
"I see fire in your eyes, Sam," Tom said with a smile.
"More like a blaze," I replied. "What did you do for work before you were married, Sheila?"
"Legal secretary," Sheila replied. "I'd still be a legal secretary if my father hadn't pulled strings and had me fired. He disowned me after I married Ken. I'm certain every attorney in the county still has me black listed."
"Except one," I replied aloud even though I was thinking to myself.
~~~~~
I decided to drop by Frank's new office before returning to BuzzZone.
"Frank," Daniel yelled toward Frank's open office door. "Your only client is here to see you. How're you doing, Sammie?"
Daniel grabbed me into a big bear hug.
"Good to see you, Daniel," I said with a smile just as Frank sauntered out of his office. "Is he behaving, Frank?"
"Daniel?" Frank asked. "Never has and never will. What can I do for you today, Sam? And I need to clarify. You are not my only client. I just signed a retainer contract with Philip Harris-LeBlanc for some work as his corporate attorney."
"Congratulations, Frank," I said as I noticed the artwork hung in the reception area. "Are these yours, Daniel?"
"Yes," Daniel replied. "Frank is my only client at the moment."
"They're really good," I said as I looked at the two paintings nearest me. "Remarkable, really."
"Thank you, Sam," Daniel replied. "I need all the encouragement I can get. I have more to hang if I can convince Frank to part with some serious money. I'm deciding if I want to be a traditional painter or contemporary."
I thumbed through the contemporary paintings still on the floor. One hit me.
"How much?" I asked.
"You're putting me on the spot, Sam," Daniel said. "Two fifty?"
"Would five hundred work?" I asked.
"You're shitting me?" Daniel asked.
"Nope," I replied. "Don't underprice your work, Daniel. This will be Chris's Valentine's Day present if I can take it home with me."
"I'll wrap it up," Daniel replied. "I hope you don't mind, Frank?"
"I'll be heartbroken, but I'll live," Frank replied. "Did you just drop in to buy Chris's present or do you have something else you want to discuss, Sam?"
"I have two related items to discuss," I said to Frank. "One I need legal advice before I do something illegal. The other is more of a favor."
"The one which might be illegal we need to talk about in private," Frank said with a smile. "Right his way, Mr. Williamson."
We sat both in front of Frank's desk.
"You remember the woman and son we've helped find a home?" I asked.
"Yes, of course," Frank replied.
"Her father and mother disowned her because she married an Hispanic man," I began. "Her father, Jeff Ryan, owns the lumber yard here in town. He's not on my `friends' list. I'd like to arrange something unique to put him on record as being an asshole. I thought about asking the bank Chris bought to cut off his line of credit, but I suspect it would be illegal. Any suggestions."
"I'd stay away from the line of credit approach or any other plan including the bank," Frank replied. "Bank fraud would not look good on your public service record. Who will supply the building materials for your house and office?"
"The only local source is Ryan's lumber yard," I explained. "I'd pay extra to buy it somewhere else if I could."
"Have your contractor find an alternative source," Frank suggested. "I'm certain any other source would be eager to have your business. You wouldn't be involved at all. Make certain Mr. Ryan bids on the job so he understands the magnitude of the project."
"Then we give it to someone else!" I exclaimed. "Good idea. However, I'm disappointed we can't cut off his line of credit. It would be so much fun. The other item I hoped you could help with is much simpler and definitely legal... Sheila Sanchez needs a job. Her background includes serving as a legal secretary for a local attorney."
"I need someone to help with the additional work developing from Philip Harris-LeBlanc's company," Frank added. "Not full time yet, but I will at some point. She can do the work from home. How does thirty dollars an hour sound?"
"Ask her," I suggested. "Here's her phone number.
~~~~~
"What you mean by `tape the progress of building the house?'" I asked Zach.
"HGTV wants to put the building process of the house on one of its shows," Zach explained as he shuffled papers in his lap.
"Why?" I asked. "It's just a house."
"Sam," Zach began with an exasperated tone of voice. "The choice to use sustainable building blocks, a technology rich control system, and geothermal heating and cooling makes this house more than `just a house.' The positioning of the house reduced the impact of building on a pristine parcel of land. And this house marks the start of an enormously powerful and creative design theory of contemporary homes. Besides, Sam, you're paying a lot of money to be environmentally friendly and still build the house you want."
"What about liability and security?" I asked. "I don't want the production company to disclose the location, nor do I want the filming to delay the construction in any way."
"The network assured me they have their own liability insurance," Zach explained. "They don't give a physical address on air, and I don't foresee any reason the filming would delay the contraction."
"The show would give you, the architect, instant, nationwide name recognition," I said with a smile.
"Ah..., yes," Zach replied.
"Good," I added. "Let me speak with Chris before I give you an answer. I'll try to meet him for lunch."
"Thank you for considering this, Sam," Zach added as he prepared to leave. "The recognition this brings to me is important, but I want you to be totally on board with this."
"I'll let you know after lunch," I said as I stood as Zach left my office.
I grabbed my phone to call Chris.
I would enjoy hearing your comments about this story. You can write to me at steve@stevenwellswriter.com.
Visit my website: www.stevenwellswriter.com
My Author Page at Amazon.com is https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01NBUIQA6
If I have time, I will get back into the twitter game. Twitter: @stevenwellsma1
The following lists links to all my stories on Nifty.org:
Please also see:
John's Journey Forward found in the Beginnings section
Together Forever found in the Beginnings Section (Sequel to John's Journey Forward)
Sam and Chris in the College section.
We're in This Together found in the Relationships section. (Sequel to Sam and Chris)
Jeffery Comes Home in the Beginnings section.
Taking a Stand in the College section. (Sequel to Jeffery Comes Home)
Other Stories by the Author
CAUTION!
Please note, the following stories are not for everyone because there are several scenes depicting Master/slave and BDSM relationships. So, if you are not interested in this type of literature, please, please do not read this story.
Life With Tim in the Authoritarian section
Steven's Evolution in the Authoritarian section. (Sequel to Life with Tim)
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