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.
"No! Fucking! Way!" my nostrils flared. "Chris will not run for Governor!"
"Why can't I run for Governor?" Chris asked as he waltzed into the kitchen to join us. "It might be fun! We could move into the Governor's mansion. You could be the First Lady of the State of Illinois! Just think of the possibilities."
"I don't want to be First Lady of the State of Illinois, Chris," I looked directly into Chris's eyes. "We just adopted two very sweet boys who need us to be in their lives. I have a business to run, and you have a music program at the high school to run. You will NOT even think about running for Governor!!"
"You have a point, Sam," Chris looked at my father. "Then, who's the lucky person?"
"Who is the most respected woman in this area?" My father had a grin plastered over his face.
"Janet Lopez?" I took a wild guess.
"She's not the one. You're close, Sam, but she's not the one. Your mother and I have been friends with her for eons."
"Deloris Santiago? The Illinois State Senate President?"
"Perfect, Sam!" my father looked quite pleased with himself. "She's already agreed to run."
"My mother knew her from college," I explained to Chris.
"You mean I wasn't your first choice?" Chris asked my father.
"Of course, you were, Chris!" my father knew enough not to tell my husband no. "I knew Sam would not be pleased if you did decide to run... Once Deloris becomes Governor, she'll cut the power play in the office of the EPA just as quickly as it began. In the meantime, we've garnered support from foes of the current Governor to begin an investigation of the EPA's activities."
"The heat will be on the EPA officials to do things by the book," I finished my father's thought before I continued. "And I don't suppose you might feed some interesting dirt to the Santiago campaign."
"Great idea, Sam! I wish I had thought of giving the campaign some choice bits of information."
"I doubt you didn't think of leaking information before I said something, Dad."
"And there is the information your mother and I dug up about the current Governor's father. He fleeced the S..."
"Stop! I do not want to know what you and Mom have dug up about the Governor's father. I want to find out about whatever scandal you've uncovered like everyone else... at his trial!"
"So, Sammie," Sawyer began as he took a seat in the chair in front of my desk. Chris and I had spent most of yesterday with the principal of the middle school "How did the meeting with the school go yesterday?"
I pushed the file I had in front of me to the side, pushed my laptop toward the other side, and gave my full attention to Sawyer. "Chris and I talked with the principal of the school. Mateo and Diego tested exceptionally high on their placement tests. The guidance department want to place the boys in AP classes. I didn't even know they had AP classes for kids in middle school. However, the principal suggested they might not have enough stimulation in the sixth grade AP classes."
"You sound like this isn't the best news in the world," Sawyer added.
"Their learning wish list includes, but not limited to, the study of dark matter, dark energy, black holes, time travel, the civil rights movement in the 1960s, Spanish, French, and music theory. We have some decisions to make. We can hire a tutor. We can send them to boarding school. We can have them home schooled. Or we can just sit back and hope for the best. We're thinking about the latter because we don't want to put pressure on them. We're concerned they might feel they're not part of the family if we treat them differently."
"Good point," Sawyer replied as he plopped a folder on my desk. "Getting back to business. I have had a recent string of our gang of thieves here come to me with recommendations about people they know who would be eager to work here. They all have excellent capabilities for some of the vacant spots we need to fill. Each recommendation has a short note describing why one of our staff members recommended him or her as well as a recent resume. Forty-three people. I've put a notation as to what positions these potential candidates would be qualified to fill."
"Have you scheduled any interviews?"
"Sammie, I just finished this compilation last night at eleven pm. I can turn this over for Clarise to work on setting up interviews, but I thought you might want to give her some advice on selection."
"Our employees recommended someone. So, it would mean they're all qualified. They should all get a chance to attend an interview. Have Clarise give all the team leaders a copy of all the resumes. I want each team leader who's interested in a particular candidate to have some time with the candidate during the interview process. Hell, we might even have a bidding war!"
"You're evil, boss!" Sawyer smiled at my words. "You certainly keep the workplace interesting!"
"Anything else?" I asked Sawyer.
"Nope," Sawyer replied. "I'll be leaving a little early today because I promised my husband some extra face time to make up for working all night last night."
"I've heard the new French café on Main Street sports a nice quiet ambiance conducive for conversation," I added before Sawyer headed toward the door. "They take American Express, too."
"Let me get this straight, boss," Sawyer stood with a folder in one hand and his other on his waist. "You're telling me to put this on the company American Express card?"
"Yes," I replied. "You do remember the rules on charging liquor on the company card?"
"Of course, boss, I wrote the rule," Sawyer replied. "One beer at lunch or one bottle of wine at dinner."
"You can double the bottles of wine because two of you are sharing dinner."
"Thanks for the offer, Sammie, but, if Glen and I were to drink two bottles of wine with dinner, we wouldn't leave the restaurant until the next morning."
"You won't be saying that once you have a few kids living with you."
"Speaking of kids," Sawyer stopped on his journey to the door and added another bit of news. "It seems we might have a love triangle forming among our employees. Jake, Greg, and Enrique seem to be getting along quite swimmingly since Enrique began working here. It's only been a week, and they're almost inseparable outside of work."
"But it's still too soon to plan an engagement party, right?" I asked.
"Yes, but the situation might escalate. And I've heard the Gardner family members aren't friendly to alternative relationships."
"That my friend is an understatement. However, Greg's brother, Lieutenant Kenneth Gardner has plans to rock the family's traditional family unit image into a new century. It seems his Muslim girlfriend will be introduced to the Gardner family in a matter of weeks."
"Holy shit!" Sawyer exclaimed. "Greg should be selling tickets to the town's hottest show of the year!"
My phone began ringing. "It's my dad. I should take this call just in case he needs to be bailed out of jail or something."
Sawyer smiled and prepared to leave as I answered the phone. "Hey! What's up, Dad?"
"Hello, Sam! Is now a good time to talk?"
"Sure, Dad."
"Your mother and I have something we'd like to run by you and Chris. We're wondering if we could join you for dinner tonight at your house. We can talk about our idea during dinner."
"You and Mom are inviting yourselves to our house for dinner tonight?"
"Yes. We'd like to get your feedback on our idea, and we're leaving for LA tomorrow."
"Dinner, as you know, is eight pm. If you arrive before, you'll have time to see the kids before they're off to bed."
"How's seven-thirty?"
"Great, Dad. Why are you and Mom going to LA?"
"We're talking to a producer about making a movie out of our book."
"You haven't even written the book! How did this producer learn about it?"
"Our publisher has worked with this producer before. She's very excited about hearing more about the book."
"Who's the producer?"
"I can't tell you specifically until we have a contract signed. Our attorney suggested we not speak publicly until we work out the details."
"Who's your attorney?"
"Frank."
"Our Frank as in Daniel and Frank?"
"Yes. We'll see you at seven thirty."
"Great, Dad. Have a good afternoon!"
"You, too, Sam."
We ended the call. I sat back in my seat and tried to sort out what happened during my conversation with my Dad. Clarise walked through my door before I had time to think about whether my parents needed mental health help.
"Do you have a moment, Sam?"
I snapped out of my anxiety attack to speak with Clarise. "Sure."
"I just e-mailed you a summary of the candidates our employees recommended. I've reviewed the list of job candidates Sawyer gave me and encapsulated them into a summary of all the candidates. Who should get a copy?"
"The entire office. This evolved from a group effort. So, everyone is involved
"Got it, boss. Also, Stephanie Thomson from the Hayworth Summer Theater Project would like to see you sometime next week. They're having a fundraiser and need sponsors."
"I've been warned I'd be on the hit list for sponsorship." I looked at my calendar and added, "Mid-morning on Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday would be perfect. Could you coordinate the visit with Sawyer? He'll handle the finances."
"Got it, boss." Clarise turned and quietly left my office.
~~~~~
My parents arrived promptly at seven thirty. Donny, Mathew, and Joshua occupied my father's time with conversation while Mateo and Diego had some sort of discussion with my mother in French. Chris and I talked about our day until it turned bedtime.
"Too bad we couldn't give the five little ones a pill so they'd suddenly be in bed."
"Dream on, sweetie. At least the water portion of the competition has already been accomplished."
I followed Chris into the living room. He announced bedtime. I grabbed Mathew, and Chris grabbed Joshua. Then, in a flurry of dogs and feet we managed to get them upstairs and into bed.
We herded my parents into the dining room and sat for dinner. Chris delivered plated servings for tonight's feast.
"So, tell us about your idea," I suggested after we'd all began eating.
"Well, you remember our conversation several months back about discovering a huge collection of your grandparents' art at the Art Institute of Chicago?" My dad began his explanation. With every word, he seemed to be getting more and more excited.
"Of course," I replied. "Have you learned anymore about the collection?"
"Yes," my father continued. "It's huge both in the number of pieces and value. I won't get into the numbers now, but the collection contains a few thousand pieces. The Art Institute collects storage fees from the endowment for the collection. A large wealth management firm manages the endowment."
"How did you find out about this secret art collection and the endowment?" Chris asked.
"Great question, Chris!" my father exclaimed. "We've studied several journals and legal papers of your, great-great-great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, great-grandparents, and grandparents. Did you even know you had great-great-great-grandparents, great-great-grandparents, Sam?"
"I knew I had great-great-great-grandparents. It's a biological necessity. But I didn't know who they were."
"We can return to the subject of your great-great-great-grandparents during a later conversation. Now, back to the art collection. I've been assured this collection would be a substantial collection for, say, a new contemporary art museum." My father paused to gauge my reaction.
"How big would this new contemporary art museum need to be to house the collection, Dad?" I asked.
"Half the size of the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago. About 100,000 square feet."
"Where would this museum be built, Dad?" I cautiously asked.
"Somewhere in town."
"Dad. You look and sound as though you have more ideas you're not telling us about. Am I right, Dad?"
"I do have a few ideas, but I'm not the one to lead this project."
"What do you mean, `lead this project'? I didn't know you've already formed a project."
"It's not really a project until we find someone to lead the project."
I leaned forward so my elbows rested on the table, my hands clasped together, and my father firmly fixed by my squinty eyes. "I already expect the worst is yet to come. And, even before you begin, I need to explain something to you and Mom. Chris and I just adopted two more kids. We're building a new house. I have a business to grow. Chris teaches music at the high school. We do not have time to run a project of bringing an art museum to town. Do I make myself clear?"
"You've made yourself perfectly clear, Sam," my Mother added. "We understand completely your need to focus on your family and your business. You put a lot of energy into both. It's probably too much to ask you to get involved with the museum project."
When my mother stopped talking the room became silent. Chris nudged my shoulder. "Sam, I think there is a `but' coming."
"Chris. I know there is a `but' coming, but it's not going to be my butt." I fixed my gaze on my parents. "So, Mom, Dad, what's the `but' you're holding back?"
"Sam! I'm surprised at you thinking we would try to force you into doing something you don't have an interest in. It would be such a waste of your talent. We can always turn the project over to a paid executive director. An outside director, though, wouldn't have the knowledge, passion, or stake in the project like a member of the family would."
"Sam, do you remember what you've always told me when dealing with your parents on issues?"
"What do you mean, Chris?"
"You've always told me not to fight with your Mom and Dad. You've said over and over to me, `Accept it, Chris. You won't win.'"
"So, Chris. You're telling me I'm fucked."
"Yes."
"Okay! I'll do it on the following conditions. You won't give me shit over the decisions I make. You need to start looking for an executive director. I want someone experienced in starting a new museum. Someone who knows the ropes of constructing and managing a project of this size and scope. And I want someone who has a passion for contemporary art. Agreed?"
I focused my gaze on my parents.
"Absolutely!" my parents said in unison.
~~~~~
My phone rang. Clarise announced the arrival of a visitor. "Ms. Thomson and Ms. Hayworth from the Hayworth Summer Theater Project are here to see you, Sam. Would you like me to escort them to your office, Sam?"
"Yes, please, Clarise." I moved a few files from the center of my desk. When I heard the click of heals on the hardwood floor, I stood to greet them.
"Sam Williamson!" Zaza burst through the door with her usual enthusiasm. "You were a high school kid when I last saw you! Welcome home."
"Thank you, Zaza," as she pulled me in for a smothering hug. "It's good to be home, Zaza. And you must be Ms. Thomson."
"Stephanie, please. I've been looking forward to meeting you all week. Zaza has told me a lot about you and your family."
Sawyer walked through the door. "Sawyer! I'd like you to meet Zaza Hayworth and Stephanie Thomson. Sawyer's our business manager here at BuzzZone."
We finished our introductions and settled on facing sofas at the center of my office. Stephanie still scoped out my office. "This's a beautiful building Mr. Williamson."
"Thank you. Please call me Sam. We're rather informal here. This used to be a bank, and it's serving as our temporary offices. Tell me about your theater project. It's still going strong I hear."
"It is. We have over fifty kids involved during the summer. We received several thousand applications, but we can only take fifty. Sam participated for two years, too." The last bit of information, Zaza directed at Sawyer and Stephanie.
"You were an actor, Sam?" Sawyer exclaimed.
"Not a very good one, but, yes, I was an actor."
"Explains a lot!" Sawyer smirked.
I turned our attention back to business. "Tell us, please, what you hope to accomplish today."
"Perhaps I should explain to Sawyer how all this started," Zaza said to me.
"By all means, Zaza."
"About forty years ago, I had a booming career on Broadway. But, as much as I loved Broadway, I realized I missed some important experiences in life. So, I sold my apartment on Park Avenue, loaded all my worldly possessions onto a moving van, and began my trek to an oasis I'd found peaceful and relaxing. I wound up here living with a friend of mine, also a former actress, and established a new life and lifestyle here. But I still had acting in my blood. The Hayworth Summer Theater project was born. In the ensuing thirty-five years almost 2,000 people have participated in this program. Some have had successful careers in New York and Hollywood."
"The community embraced this program from the very beginning. The actors perform in front of sold out crowds of residents."
"How do you see BuzzZone's involvement?" Sawyer put on his business face.
Stephanie took the stage upon hearing Sawyer's question. "We have several sponsorship opportunities we want to offer local businesses and institutions." Stephanie handed Sawyer and me a list of potential sponsorships. "You can pick any of the sponsorship programs that suit your budget."
"Zaza, you remember my mother and father, right?"
"Of course! I've worked with both of your parents on a variety of community projects. Both delightful people."
"I must have inherited the gene for community involvement. Who's your major corporate sponsor this year?"
"It's been Conti Lumber Yard for the past several years. We've been trying together to firm up the details, but this year Donovan has been somewhat elusive, why?"
"I'm wondering if it's a financial issue with them. I've heard a very, very big project decided to seek their building supplies from a supplier in a neighboring community. So, to help them get their operation back in the black, BuzzZone would like to be the corporate sponsor."
Zaza smile brightened. She sat straighter. "We'd be delighted to have BuzzZone become the next corporate sponsor! I'd heard Donovan had some layoffs. They'll be grateful for your help, Sam. Thank you!"
"You'll generates some excitement throughout the community, too, Sam. The community's latest technology company joining forces with the theater group! People will take note. Don't you think, Zaza?"
"Absolutely, Stephanie," Zaza turned toward Sawyer. We both noticed the look of shock in his face. "Is something wrong, Sawyer?"
"Sam, may I speak with you outside for a moment?"
"Sure, Sawyer," I stood from where I sat. "We'll be right back. So, please excuse us."
Once we were out of earshot of our guests, Sawyer began, "Are you fucking nuts, Sam! How much money do you think is required from the corporate sponsor?"
"I probably am nuts, Sawyer, and, yes, I do know how much money is required to be the corporate sponsor. Five hundred thousand dollars."
"Which tree, Sam, should I pick the five hundred thousand dollars?"
I smiled at Sawyer. "I'll personally transfer the money into the BuzzZone Family Foundation, and the foundation will be the corporate sponsor. I'll meet with the foundation board this evening and explain my decision. In the meantime, sign the papers."
"I'll sign the papers, Sam, but I have more questions for you. Questions I will ask in a private meeting with you before the board meeting."
"We can discuss anything you want at lunch today. Now, back to our guests."
Sawyer and I returned to our guests from the Hayworth Summer Theater Program.
"I'm sorry for the delay. I just needed to clarify something with Sam, here. I need to send the agreement you already gave us to our corporate council to review before I return it to you. I'll have the council's response later this afternoon, and I'll messenger the signed agreement to your office."
"I look forward to receiving the documents, Sawyer," Stephanie turned from Sawyer to me. "And, Sam, Zaza and I can't thank you enough for your generous support. What name would you like us to include as the sponsor?"
"The BuzzZone Family Foundation."
Sawyer stayed behind after Zaza and Stephanie had left. Sawyer didn't make any move to leave my office.
"Is something else on your mind, Sawyer?" I sat back in my chair and waited for Sawyer's response.
Sawyer, still standing, placed his hands, palms up, on the top of my desk and leaned towards me. "We've known each other now for six years. I knew your family had money, but I never thought of you as the rich kid college roommate. Before I embarrass myself in front of someone else, could you please give me an estimate of your net worth so I don't look surprised at your generosity?"
"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Sawyer. I'm sorry I did. I can tell you I'm probably worth one- or two-hundred-million dollars. Some of it came from trusts given to me by my grandparents and parents. Some of it given to me by my parents. Some of it came from the sale of the family farm. So, yes, I'm the rich kid college roommate from Orleans. I hope this knowledge helps with future discussions."
"Thank you for sharing, Sam. Your secret's safe with me."
"Of course, the family assets seem to have multiplied over time, especially the art collection neatly stored away at the Art Institute of Chicago. The collection started with my great grand parents' collection. My grandparents added more to the collection and began collecting contemporary art from various American artists."
"This art collections sounds valuable, right?"
"Yes. We won't know the specific value until the appraisers have finished. It'll probably take them another two to three years. But its value has been estimated between one- to two-billion dollars."
"You're fucking shitting me!"
"Nope. I'm not shitting you, Sawyer. I'm just now learning more about the collection. This revelation leads me to my next topic of consideration, one I'm hoping you can help my family take steps necessary to retrieve the collection from storage and put it on public display."
"I'm with you up to, but not including, the part about me helping your family. It seems unlikely I'd have any talent to assist you with a billion plus dollar art collection."
"Ah, but you do my good man! The family needs to get the collection out of storage and onto public display. Translated: We want to build a museum to house the collection. And we need to find an executive director to build the museum and oversee the initial few years of operation. I thought you'd be the perfect one to find us an executive director. The family foundation will cover the portion of your salary while you find us an executive director. I'll even give you a raise. Interested?"
"How much of a raise?"
"Twenty percent."
"Sold," Sawyer finally relaxed and sat down. "Let me know when you want me to start with this job search."
"Now."
"One last question I'd like you to answer. If you have all this money, why aren't you a stuffy, arrogant asshole like way too many other millionaires?"
"Becoming a stuffy, arrogant asshole takes a lot of effort. I'll buzz you about lunch in a few minutes."
~~~~~
I slipped through the door from the garage to the kitchen. I immediately noticed something very odd, very different, and very disturbing. The house was quiet. A house where five kids live cannot be quiet—ever!
"We're in the television room, Sam," I heard the voice of my husband bellow.
I dropped my backpack on the kitchen island and tossed my suit jacket over one of the stools and made my way into the television room.
"What have they done this time?" I asked Chris as I saw five boys arranged on chairs from the breakfast table. The boys were sorted by age. One dog apiece sat in front of each chair. I turned my attention to Chris.
"We have had an insurrection! Who'd like to explain to Daddy Sam what happened?"
No one spoke.
"Someone had better speak before you are all grounded until you turn sixteen. Speak!"
Donny finally decided to spill the beans. He spoke directly to me. "We didn't mean to be bad, Daddy! It just happened. A can of paint you used on the patio accidentally spilled on Jill. She got mad and made us sit in the television room without talking and without television. Then, Daddy got home. Jill told Daddy she's quitting and stormed out of the house."
I turned towards Chris and waited for further details. "I think if you or I had a can of paint spill over our heads, we'd be angry, too. She didn't give me much information other than she would need a miracle if the hair stylist could get the paint out of her hair. I can understand her concern. She's getting married next month, and the paint had started to dry."
I turned my attention back to the boys. "First off, how did a can of paint accidentally spill on Jill?"
"It fell off the windowsill of our room," Mateo admitted.
"Why was the can of paint on the windowsill?"
"We wondered the same thing until Daddy got home and explained it to us." Diego replied.
I turned towards Chris.
"I've tried to piece this mystery together. My first break of the investigation came early when I looked out the window of Donny's room and found odd splashes of color on the pavers of the patio. First, a red color. Second, a yellow color. Third, a blue color. If it'd been on a canvas it would quality as modern art, but it wasn't on a canvas. It was on the newly installed pavers for the patio. Near the house. The can of paint that miraculously jumped off the window sill and hit Jill was black. An oil based black. The one used on the black wrought iron fence around the pool."
My eyebrows arched.
"We're in deep shit trouble now," Donny added. "When Daddy arches his eyebrows, we're in deep trouble."
"Watch your language, Donny!" Chris exclaimed as he tried to suppress a laugh.
"How much will it cost, do you think, to repair Jill's hair and replace any clothing she might have been wearing?"
"Not much," Chris continued. "No more than... maybe... a thousand dollars for her hair. I didn't get to look at the labels of her damaged clothing, but I suspect some of it might be expensive."
"What do we do with them?" I asked still looking at Chris but pointing towards the kids.
"They all begged for leniency."
"I didn't think they'd know the word leniency!"
"I used a synonym."
I turned my attention to the five hoodlums sitting on the chairs. "Why don't you all go upstairs to your rooms and wait for us there? Now!"
The five scurried out of the room and clambered up the stairs. Chris and I started laughing after the five were out of earshot.
To be continued.
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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