Boyhood's End (#13)

Chapter 01

(Justin's Perspective)
       "What are you doing?" Kyle asked me.
       We had been on the damn airplane out of Atlanta for over four hours, and I wanted a cigarette so bad I could scream. The thing is, I sometimes go for a whole day, even two, without smoking, so it wasn't that. I think it was the idea that I couldn't smoke if I wanted to that made the craving so bad. The next time I take a long flight like that, I'm buying me some of that nicotine gum.
       "I'm jerking off, Kyle. What does it look like I'm doing?" I said.
       "Back off, Bubba. Don't jump on me. I know you got a pencil dick, but what you're holding is a real pencil," he said.
       "Sorry, Bubba. I'm just a little bit on edge right now," I said. "What I'm doing is trying to design the piece of the AIDS Quilt for Trey, and every fucking thing I draw sucks."
       "You need a little physical release, don't you?" he said.
       "No, I don't need a little physical release, thank you very much. What I need is a cigarette, and I can't have one," I said.
       "Hey, mister," Kyle said to a male flight attendant who happened to be passing. That guy was so "gay," he might as well have had it tattooed on his forehead.
       "Yes?" the guy asked.
       "My brother's having a nicotine fit. Can you hook him up with some gum or something?" Kyle asked.
       The guy smiled this sweet little mocking smile, and I wanted to punch his lights out.
       "As a matter of fact, I can," he said.
       He dug in his pocket and handed me this gray wad of shit wrapped up in a plastic case.
       "I'm a smoker, so I understand," he said. "Do you know how to use it?"
       "What is it?" I asked.
       "It's nicotine gum. It should relieve the craving," he said. "Just bite into it and hold it next to your gum. You'll be fine."
       "Thanks," I said.
       Kyle handed him a ten spot.
       "Buy more for the next trip," Kyle said.
       "Oh, it's free," the guy, whose nametag said "Reggie," said. "I don't buy it. The airline does."
       "Buy yourself a drink, then, on us," Kyle said. "He's trying to draw, and it's making him crazy not to be able to smoke. Maybe he'll get his drawing done now."
       "Oh, what are you drawing, if you don't mind my asking?" the guy said.
       "I'm trying to draw a panel for the AIDS Quilt," I said. "Do you know what that is?"
       "You're kidding, right?" he said.
       "No, I'm not kidding. One of our brothers died of AIDS in January, and they have this gigantic quilt that remembers the ones who died of it. We saw part of the quilt in San Francisco in March. I'm going to learn how to sew and make it for him," I said.
       "Was your brother gay?" Reggie asked.
       "Yeah, he was gay. So what? He was only thirty-two years old, and he died," I said. "Maybe by making this little piece of it, I can keep other boys from getting AIDS. It could have been me just as easy."
       "So are you, um . . . ?"
       "Hell, no," I said. "If I was an artist, I could probably do this better."
       "I think he meant, 'Are you gay,' asshole, and, yes, he is. And so am I, and so are these two," Kyle said, pointing to Tim and Brian. "We're two couples here."
       A look of surprise registered for a second on Reggie's face, but then it was gone.
       "May I look at your sketches?" he asked.
       "Sure. Maybe you got some ideas. I'm fresh out. But you know what? This gum is working, I think. Thanks, man," I said.
       Reggie studied my drawings.
       "I think I would combine these two pieces," he said, pointing to stuff on two different drawings. "Was 'Trey' his real name? Most of the time, that's a nickname for somebody who's 'the third.'"
       "I don't really know," I said.
       "I thought you said he was your brother," Reggie said.
       "He was, but not a blood brother. It's too complicated. His partner works for his daddy and for one of our big brothers. They got evicted, so they came to live with us for Trey to die," I said.
       "You're right. It's too complicated. Do you mind if I show these to one of the other flight attendants? He's an excellent artist, and I know he'll want to see them," Reggie said. "Meanwhile, what are you guys drinking?"
       "I don't know. We had a drink of some kind of whiskey a little while ago," I said. "Do you know, Kyle?"
       "No, I didn't pay attention to what was on the bottle," Kyle said.
       "It was Jack Daniel's," Brian said.
       "Okay. Let me take these. I'll be back in a second," he said.
       "Sure, go ahead," I said.
       Off he went.
       "How'd you know what we were drinking? You craving whiskey, all of a sudden?" I asked Brian, knowing he wasn't. Teasing him.
       "Yes. I'm craving whiskey and cigarettes and weed and women," Brian said.
       That cracked everybody up, including somebody we didn't know who was on our row. I leaned over and gave him a little peck on the lips. I just couldn't resist because he was so cute. Reggie was back just then with two bags, four cups of ice, and four Sprites.
       "Put the extras in your carry-ons," he said. "You won't have a problem with customs."
       Each bag was chocked full of little miniature bottles of Jack Daniel's whiskey.
       "Thanks, man," I said. "But you didn't have to do this, you know."
       "You're welcome, and I felt as though I did," he said. "By the way, I'm Reggie Davis."
       "Really? I'm Justin Davis. I must be your cousin. This is Brian Mathews, my boyfriend, Kyle Goodson, and Tim Murphy, Kyle's boyfriend," I said, and we all shook hands.
       "Where are you guys going?" he asked.
       "All over the damn place," Kyle said.
       "One place I really like, which may or may not appeal to you guys, is Cap D'Agde, in southeastern France. It may be a little extreme for your taste," he said.
       "I never heard of it," Kyle said.
       It was for damn sure I had never heard of it.
       "I'm not surprised," Reggie said. "It's a nudist town. You'll see people nude all over the place there. They have a nice beach, too."
       "What do you mean?" Kyle asked. Hell, I knew he'd be interested in something like that.
       "Well, nudity is the norm there, or at least it's as accepted as wearing clothes is," Reggie said.
       "For real?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah. It's a resort, and it's not very big, but they get a lot of visitors in the summer, and, as I said, nudity is accepted everywhere," Reggie said.
       "Even like in church?" Kyle asked.
       "Well, probably not, but I've never been to church there," Reggie said. "There's a high percentage of gays and lesbians there, too, especially among the tourists. Well, I need to get going. Nice chatting with you guys."
       "Wait a minute," Kyle said. "Would you mind writing down the name of that place? I'll never remember it, if you don't."
       "I'll be happy to. In fact, we might even have a brochure or two around here somewhere," Reggie said. "It's on the Riviera, which is a 'must see,' anyway. But the town really has a rich history, and you can actually go to museums and concerts and things like that, too. And not everybody is nude, by any means. But a lot are."
       "Cool," Kyle said. "Thanks for the heads-up, man."
       "Surely you're not planning for us to go there," Tim said.
       "Well, not on this trip, but we might want to check it out on some other trip. If we all want to, that is," Kyle said. "I'll research it on the Internet when we get home."
       I was feeling so much more relaxed because of that gum.
       "Do you want another drink?" I asked Kyle.
       "Are you having one?" he asked.
       "Well, since it looks like I'm not going to go to sleep anytime soon, I reckon I will have one," I said.
       "If you have one, I will, too," Kyle said.
       It was pitch black midnight outside the plane. We had been in the air a long time, but it was just about eight o'clock at night by our time at home. I had tried to sleep when it got dark outside, but sleep just wouldn't come.
       "We're going to have some major jet lag," Kyle said.
       "What does that mean?" I asked.
       "Well, it's going to be tomorrow morning their time when we get there," he said. "It's going to be rough the first day or so, till we get used to it. It'll be the time we usually go to bed by the time we check into our hotel. We'll probably want to get a good nap for a few hours, at least."
       Our first stop was going to be Rome, Italy, and that is a big Catholic town, as I remembered reading about it. I'm a Catholic now, though, and I was ready for that.
       Reggie came back in about two hours or so, followed by another flight attendant who looked just as queer as Reggie did.
       "Guys, this is Brent. Brent this is Justin, and I'm sorry, but I don't remember the rest of your names," Reggie said.
       We told Brent our names, and we all shook hands with him.
       "Justin, designing a panel for the Quilt is a labor of love for me. I've done eighteen of them so far, nineteen, counting yours. Yes, I'm gay, and I've lost several very close friends to AIDS. Look at these two designs to see if you like either one," Brent said.
       He had two designs, and they were both done up in colored pencil. I mean, he hadn't had time to color them in all the way, but he showed the colors he intended. I thought they were both terrific.
       "Whoa!" I said to Brent. "Both of these are great, man. What do y'all think?" I asked my brothers.
       "This one is of Trey's back with the sandals. He's got sand in his shoes, Justin. This is pure Emerald Beach, Jus. I like this one the best," Kyle said.
       "Yeah, but it's his back. Where's he going?" I asked.
       "He's going home to God, dumbass. Don't you see the light in the distance?" Kyle asked. "Ain't that supposed to represent God?"
       "Yes, that is supposed to represent going home to God. I'm sorry, but I couldn't do his face because I don't know what he looked like," Brett said. "Maybe you can scan a photograph onto white cotton cloth and sew it on at the bottom."
       "I like that idea. Do you know how to do that?" I asked Kyle.
       "No, but I bet Jeff does," Kyle said. "He'll figure it out, if he doesn't."
       "Okay, all of this is embroidery, quilted. Do you know how to do this?" Brent asked.
       "Brent, I don't even know how to thread a needle, but I can learn. I'm going to do this thing," I said.
       "We're all going to learn, Brent, but this is the one and only one I hope we ever have to make," Kyle said.
       "God bless you, and I hope you're right," Brent said. Then he turned and walked away.
       "He's not being rude, guys. His partner of six years is dying of AIDS right now," Reggie said. "His partner was infected with HIV when he was fourteen years old. The medicines worked at first, but they haven't been effective since he developed AIDS. Brent was very moved when I asked him to work on these drawings. His boy isn't going to make it, and he knows that."
       "Shit," I said. "Fourteen. Jesus Christ!"
       "Fourteen is not too young to be infected, Justin," Reggie said. "Young boys think they can have unprotected sex because they're young and it won't happen to them. But it can, and it does."
       I looked at Brian, and he gave me a smile and a thumbs up. We will never have unprotected sex. Ever. I don't care how many fucking HIV tests I pass.
       "I reckon I'm going to have to learn some sewing to make this, but I'm going to do it," I said.
       "We'll take turns. We'll all learn how to do it," Kyle said.
       Suddenly, and I mean absolutely suddenly, it was dawn. We had crossed some magic line or something, but, all of a sudden, there was sunlight in the plane. The flight attendants came around, waking people up and serving breakfast. I still had a big drink of Jack Daniels and Sprite in front of me. I had barely touched it. And there was breakfast. Damn.
       "What do I do with this?" I asked Kyle.
       "I'd say drink it up. I got the same amount as you, and I'm drinking mine," he said.
       * * *
       We finally got to the airport in Rome, and it took us a good half hour to get off that plane. We each had a carryon bag, but they were small compared to the ones that some of those people had carried on. The Rome airport wasn't all that impressive, to me. It's called Leonardo Da Vinci Airport, and he's a famous artist who painted a picture of some girl named Lisa. I know that much from the art history class I took in college. Damn, it's still hard for me to imagine I have a college degree. I mean, it's only an AA, and not a BS, but I already have plenty BS. And so does Goodson.
       One of the things that sort of shocked me was there were soldiers in the airport carrying machine guns. I kind of wanted to go talk to one of them to see if he would let me look at it, but Kyle made us haul ass in that place. First stop, customs.
       "Keep your mouth shut in customs. Don't say nothing. They probably are going to want to look in your bags. It ain't personal, so nobody mouth off, okay?" Kyle said.
       "They might also want to do a body cavity search," Tim said.
       He and Kyle had both been to Europe before, so I figured they knew what the hell they were talking about.
       "What you mean, a body cavity?" I asked.
       "Where are your body cavities? Mouth and butt, right?" Kyle said.
       "Let's get back on the plane. I ain't letting no stranger look up my butt," I said. "I like spaghetti fine, but not that much. We can get it at home, too. Let's go."
       Kyle, Tim, and Brian started laughing.
       "Shit, y'all got me last, didn't you?" I said. "I hate you sons of bitches."
       "What's the matter, Bubba? You don't want nobody fooling with this thing?" Kyle asked, touching my butt.
       "Get your fucking hands off me, Kyle. Jesus Christ! I can't believe you," I said. I wasn't really pissed off, but it was a public place, and all.
       "Buddy, calm down. Nobody saw him do that but us, and, from what I've read, they wouldn't have thought anything of it, even if they had seen," Brian said.
       "I'm so damn stressed right now, I can't breathe," I said.
       "Calm down, Bubba. I'm sorry for teasing you and touching you," Kyle said.
       I knew he didn't mean any harm by all of that, but there I was, a dumb hick from Alabama, in Rome, fucking, Italy. I didn't know what to think.
       We got to the customs checkpoint, and that was about a non-event. I flashed my passport, and the guy stamped it and waved me through. They did that to all of us. There were a couple of ladies in those Islam robes, though, and they pulled them, and their families, off to the side.
       "Did you see that? How's that for racial profiling?" Tim asked.
       "I know," Brian said. "I never thought they really did that until I just saw it. That was outrageous."
       "Let's go get our grips and get the hell out of here. This place makes me nervous," Kyle said.
       The luggage came off the plane faster than the people did, and it was already on the thing by the time we got to it.
       "Is it okay to smoke in here?" I asked a guy who looked like a policeman or something.
       "Scusi?" he said.
       "What?" I asked.
       "Scusi?" he said again.
       "He don't speak English, dumbass. What do these signs around here say about smoking?" Kyle asked.
       "They all say no smoking, but all these people in here are smoking. That's why I asked him. And why didn't he understand me?" I said.
       "Young man, you may smoke if you wish," a lady standing next to me said. She was smoking, and she had an accent, too. "We Romans ignore the stupid signs. And educated people do speak English here. I take it you are from the United States? The South? Alabama, perhaps?"
       "Yes, ma'am, that's exactly where I'm from, but I live in Florida, now," I said. "And thank you."
       I stepped away and lit up a smoke. That would probably do me for a day or so, but, oh, that one was good.
       * * *
       I have always heard that Rome wasn't built in a day, and I could see why. There was a lot of very old shit there, and a lot of it was gigantic. We took a van in from the airport, and we had to ride around some in the city, dropping people off at different hotels. Ours was on the Via Veneto, which is the street where the American embassy is. Just down from our hotel, in fact. The embassy is beautiful, but you damn sure can't get close to it. They have a wall around it, and people had painted graffiti all over the wall. Some of it must have been in Italian, but I read some of it in English, too. It wasn't real pro-American, that's for sure.
       We decided not to take a nap right away. Instead we walked around some, just rubbernecking at the sights. It seemed like there was a church on every corner. We went into the Capuchin church that's on the Via Veneto, and I expected we'd get some cappuccino. But no. That was the creepiest thing I had ever seen in my life. The Capuchins are some kind of monks or something, and the whole basement of the church is decorated with the bones of dead monks. At first you couldn't tell what some of it was because the bones were arranged in fancy patterns on the walls and ceilings of the various rooms. When you got up close, though, there was no mistaking it.
       "This is the most bizarre thing I've ever seen," Kyle said. "Why you reckon they did this?"
       A man standing in the room with us heard him, and he said, "It was done as a way of reminding the friars of death. The Marquis de Sade visited here in the nineteenth century, and he loved it."
       That guy sort of chuckled, like that was supposed to mean something. We all sort of laughed a little bit to be polite because he must have thought he was being cute. I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about, though.
       Our trip was going to be seventeen days altogether, which meant five days in Rome, five in Paris, and five in London. Plus, a day over and a day back. Some people like to go to as many countries as they can on a trip like that, but all the grown-ups we talked to who knew something about Europe said we'd be better off staying put in those three cities.
       Well, there was plenty to do in Rome, that's for sure. We did the bus tour thing, and that took us to all the ancient parts, like from the time of the Roman emperors. The Coliseum, the Forum, some temples, the Circus Maximus, and other things I don't really remember. We each had a guide book that gave us pictures of what it all looked like when it was still in good shape, but all in the world it looked like to me was a pile of rocks, especially the Forum. I didn't think it was all that great.
       "Somebody's got a damn good imagination, I think," Kyle said.
       "What you mean?" I asked.
       "Well, look at this picture. You see anything down there that looks like that? I don't," he said.
       "No. I was thinking the same thing," I said.
       "That's what archeologists do," Brian said. "They know how to figure out how stuff probably looked, emphasis on the probably."
       "Well, I guess," I said.
       They took us all over the place, and a bunch of times we had to get out of the bus and walk to where we were going because the streets are too narrow for the buses to go down. One of those was this gigantic fountain that was the biggest thing like that I had ever seen. They said it was the custom to throw money into it and make a wish. That was just a scam, though, and every time the policeman who was on duty there turned his head, some kid was in the water going after the money. I figured, 'What the hell,' though, and I threw a coin in. It didn't look like real money, anyway.
       "Did you make a wish?" Kyle asked me.
       "Yeah, I made a wish. Ain't that what you're supposed to do?" I said.
       "Yeah. What'd you wish for?" he asked me. I knew he was going to ask me that.
       "None of your business," I said.
       "Asshole," he said, and we laughed.
       "It won't come true, if he tells it," Tim said.
       "What I wished for was finding someplace to take a leak," Kyle said.
       One of the men in our tour group heard him, and he laughed his ass off.
       "Me, too, buddy," the guy said.
       The next place we went was like an outdoor restaurant for a snack, and Kyle and that man got their wishes.

(Brian's Perspective)
       I was so excited about being in Rome that I could barely keep still. Unlike Justin and Kyle, who considered what we were doing a vacation, I think Tim and I looked upon it as "travel," meaning an educational opportunity. I had done a lot of reading about the places we would be going, and I was prepared to get the most out of the experience. Tim had read a lot, too, so, between the two of us, we were able to tell Justin and Kyle what we were seeing and its historical significance.
       One place I had read about was the Spanish Steps. They were huge, really going up quite a high hill, and the Steps were close enough to our hotel that we could easily walk there. We went there at night to mingle with the hundreds of others, mostly young people like us, get something to eat, have a drink in one of the bars, and just feel "international." It was great! We went there two nights, and I think it must have sparked the romantic imaginations of all of us because both couples made love when we got back to the hotel. For Justin and me, it was some of the best, too.
       We went to a few museums. One was about the Etruscans, the people who were there before Rome became an organized empire. It was interesting, but all of the signs were only in Italian. I knew enough Spanish to make out some of it, though. A lot of the "museums" are really churches, and there are some enormous ones. I knew they weren't cathedrals, although that's what Kyle and Justin referred to them as every time. Several of them were basilicas, though, which just means it's an important church, not the church of the bishop, which the cathedral is.
       "It's nice and cool in here, ain't it?" Jus said when we went into the first one. "Where are the stained glass windows? It wouldn't be so damn dark if they had some of those."
       "Buddy, I think you find those in Gothic churches. None of these in Rome are Gothic. They're Romanesque, but it is dark, isn't it?" I said.
       Besides the main part of the church, there were chapels all around that were bigger than any church I had been in except St. Patrick's in New York. A lot of the important art was in those chapels, and they had light machines, for lack of a better term. You had to put coins in the machine, and bright lights would come on so you could see what was there.
       "This fellow Bernini was a busy boy, wasn't he?" Kyle said. "This is the fifth or sixth place we've been in that has had stuff by him."
       "Yeah. He was everything, too. A painter, a sculptor, an architect," Tim said. "See that one right there? That's St. Teresa in Ecstasy, and it says in the book that some people believe the face is modeled on the way his mistress looked when she had an orgasm. That's pretty cool, don't you think?"
       "I'm surprised they let that in a church," Kyle said. "What about his boyfriend? Is he in here somewhere? That's more what I can relate to."
       The thing about those churches is, they didn't have pews. They were just open. Some of them had folding chairs set up for Mass or whatnot, but they were clearly temporary.
       We had the number of Kevin's Uncle Ray, who is a Jesuit priest and a professor at a university in Rome. We had met him at Grandma and Grandpa's house at Christmas a couple of times, and he knows we're couples. He's gay, too, but, like Jerry and Vince, he keeps his vows.
       He spent the whole day with us one day, taking us all over the place. He made us call him Uncle Ray, and he was hilarious. He might be keeping his vows, but he wasn't above noticing and pointing out cute boys to us. We had a lot of fun with him.
       "Have you been to the Vatican yet?" he asked.
       "No, sir, we're going there day after tomorrow," Kyle said.
       "Well, you'll want to start with the Vatican Museum, and my advice is to get there well before it opens at eight o'clock. In fact, I'd get there at seven. The line will be very long, and it'll be hot standing in line at this time of year. There are bakeries and shops across the street from the entrance so you can get breakfast right there," he said.
       "Thanks for the heads-up, Padre," Kyle said.
       I could tell he really, really liked us, and he got tickled whenever one of us showed that kind of affection for him. He was absolutely delightful, and he speaks Italian like a native. That really helped, especially in the shops he took us to.
       "What's on the schedule for tomorrow?" he asked.
       "We're going to Florence," Kyle said. "Come and go with us."
       I could tell he was mulling that idea over.
       "Let me make a call," he said.
       He pulled out his cell phone and made his call. It seemed like half the people on the streets of Rome at any given moment were on the telephone, and their cell phone industry must be enormous.
       "Okay. It's all clear, and, if you'll have me, I can go with you to the Vatican the next day, too," he said. "When are you leaving for your next destination?"
       "We catch a fast train to Paris the night of the Vatican visit," I said. "It's the Eurostar."
       "Excellent choice, boys. It's about a fifteen-hour trip, but they often make better time than that. Did you book berths?" he asked.
       "Yes, sir," Kyle said. "It leaves at six o'clock, and we should be able to sleep most of the way there. That's what it says, anyway."
       "Oh, yeah. They're very comfortable. And it won't really get dark until around nine o'clock, so you'll be able to see some of the countryside through Tuscany and all," he said. "I don't know whose idea that was, but it's a excellent one."
       * * *
       The trip to Florence was pretty cool. It took a couple of hours on a tour bus, and Uncle Ray kept us entertained with stories of his travels. Evidently, he's some kind of international expert on the Bible, and he has attended conferences and seminars all over the place. He actually did Biblical archeology work in Israel for a couple of years, and he can read the scriptures in the original languages.
       "How many languages do you know?" Justin asked him.
       "Well, let's count them up. English, of course, Italian, Spanish, French, German, Hebrew, but ancient Hebrew. I can hold my own in modern Hebrew, too. Biblical Greek. A little bit of Aramaic, too. I guess that's about all. Oh, and Latin, of course."
       "Oh, of course," Tim said, and Uncle Ray laughed. He was so cute.
       "You said you can hold your own in modern Hebrew. You can't hold it in the other languages?" Justin asked in that deadpan way of his.
       Uncle Ray got it immediately, and he burst out laughing.
       "You're a cutie," he said, and Justin beamed.
       Michelangelo was the big art star in Florence, just as Bernini was in Rome. We went to the Michelangelo museum as the first stop on the bus tour, and we saw his work. The most impressive thing, of course, was the David.
       "Look at the hands on that sucker. They're huge, but the dick ain't that big, is it?" Justin said.
       It was an English-speaking tour, so I had to shush him a little. Uncle Ray was so enchanted with Justin and Kyle that he laughed at everything either of them said, and he did nothing to discourage them. I could tell he liked Tim and me, too, but those two are so funny and so -- I don't know, macho, I guess, without being obnoxious -- that people can't help liking them.
       "This sculpture was intended to be outdoors, and people would be able to look at it from windows in buildings above it, but from the back. That's why the hands are so big. They were designed to look like they were in proportion with the rest of the piece from up above," Uncle Ray said. "People would see the penis from the front and from the ground. It would have looked fine from that perspective. By the way, let's find out when and where the bus is going to leave tonight. We can go off on our own, and I can really show you the city. They'll spend a couple of hours or more in gift shops and a leather factory that gives the tour company a percentage of everything they sell to the tourists. You're not interested in that, are you?"
       "Hell, no," Kyle said.
       "I didn't think so. I'm not, either," Uncle Ray said.
       So that's what we did. We saw Florence under the supervision and interpretation of Uncle Ray. He took us to all sorts of out-of-the-way places, and he explained the history of all of it, too. He told us all about the Renaissance, the Medici's, Savonarola and his reign of terror, Leonardo da Vinci, and a whole lot more. Tim and I were soaking it in, and Justin and Kyle were caught in the spell of Uncle Ray, who is obviously a master teacher.
       "Uncle Ray, yesterday and today have been un-fu. . . unbelievable," Kyle said.
       "You were going to say un-fucking-believable, weren't you?" Ray said.
       "Yes, sir," Kyle said, slightly embarrassed.
       "Son, I'm a university professor. Who goes to universities? Young people. I hear that several times a day, every day," he said. "In several languages, in fact."
       "I know, but you're a priest," Kyle said.
       "That don't hold you back around Jerry and Vince," Justin said.
       "Are Jerry and Vince priests?" Ray asked.
       "Yes, sir. They're friends of ours," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, you won't offend me. I appreciate the respect you showed me just now, but if something slips out, don't be embarrassed. I wouldn't scream that out in St. Peter's tomorrow, say, but please don't be embarrassed," Ray said.
       "Okay. The man on the plane gave us about a hundred little bottles of Jack Daniel's. Why don't you come up and have a drink with us?" Kyle said. "You will take a drink, won't you?"
       He checked his watch.
       "Yeah. It's not too late," he said. It was about 8:30.
       "We'll get some room service, too," Kyle said. "Come on. Let's go."

(Tim's Perspective)
       Going to Rome with the love of my life and my two brothers was a dream come true for me. And then having Uncle Ray as a personal tour guide just made it that much better. I had been to Ireland and England once before on a trip with my dad, and to Germany, Switzerland, and Austria on another trip with my scout troop when I lived in California, but I had never been to Italy before. I had had a fantastic time on both those other trips, but I had been younger. From what I remember, though, those places are nothing like Rome.
       We spent our last day in Rome in the Vatican, and it was, to quote my boyfriend, un-fucking-believable. My God! The size of it!
       Ray met us at the Vatican Museum entrance the next morning, and he was right. There was already a substantial crowd when we got there at seven.
       "We were going to walk here," Kyle said. "I'm glad we didn't, though. The concierge at the hotel told us we needed a cab, and he was right."
       "Oh, absolutely," Uncle Ray said. "It's way too far from the Via Veneto. I mean, I walk that far often, but it would have taken you two hours. Are you boys hungry? We can leave a couple in line and the others can go across the street over there and get breakfast. I'm famished."
       "Do we eat over there?" Kyle asked.
       "No. We'll bring it back over here and eat in line," Ray said. And that's what we did.
       The thing that impressed me immediately once we were in the museum was the stairs. There were two gigantic spiral staircases, one up and one down. Each step was about ten feet across, and they were made out of marble. I had never seen anything like that before. The museum itself is enormous, but almost everything in it has a religious theme. One of the nice things, though, was that all the signs were in several languages, including English. We didn't know what a lot of the religious objects were, but Uncle Ray explained them.
       "Uncle Ray's incredible, ain't he?" Kyle said. "He's given me a new motto."
       I laughed.
       "Justin, we've got a new motto coming up," I said.
       "Let me hear it," Jus said. All five of us gathered up to hear the new motto.
       "Here's the motto: If you're a group of gay boys visiting Rome, find you a gay Jesuit priest, who has lived there for years and who is your grandpa's best friend, to be your tour guide."
       "Yeah," Justin said, with a thoughtful look on his face. "That one works, Kyle. That's going to be my motto for the rest of my life." Then, after a pause, "You dumb fuck."
       A lot of what Justin says isn't all that funny, if you were to see it written down, but the way he says it is so hilarious. We all laughed hard, including Kyle and Uncle Ray.
       The museum tour included the Sistine Chapel, and, I have to say, I was pretty under whelmed. It's just a big, bare room with plain wooden benches around the walls. I know that's where the pope is elected, so it's important for that reason, but the big draw, supposedly, is the frescos on the walls and ceiling that Michelangelo created. The thing you usually see in books -- God creating Adam by touching his finger -- is really quite small, and you have to look at a lot of stuff to even find it. I thought it would be on the back wall behind this tiny little altar they have in there. It isn't. It's in the center of the ceiling, and it's not all that big, at all.
       "We studied this place in art history," Jus said. "Frankly, I think it's a little bit gay."
       Uncle Ray howled with laughter, right there in the church. Of course, it was anything but quiet, with the number of people who were in there.
       When we finished in there, we went out into some kind of garden or quadrangle or something. Justin smoked a cigarette, and then we went into a gift shop that was run by nuns. I bought a few things in there and paid the young nun who waited on me. She didn't give me a receipt, but I didn't think anything of it. As I was leaving the shop, a big, older nun jumped me and accused me of stealing the stuff.
       At first she spoke to me in Italian. Then in what I think was German. Then in English.
       "Where is the receipt?" she demanded.
       Shit, the stuff was in a bag from the store. I didn't have a receipt.
       Then the young one, who had sold me the stuff, came up with a receipt in her hand. She spoke to the older one in German, and then the older one smiled at me.
       "Sorry," she said.
       "I thought she was fixing to eat you up, Bubba," Justin said.
       "I know. I did, too. I thought she was going to have me arrested for shoplifting," I said.
       * * *
       "Boys, we're going to do something that very few people know about," Uncle Ray said. "We're going to approach St. Peter's Square the way Bernini intended people to approach it. Follow me."
       He led us through some back streets that are off the Vatican property and into Rome proper. Then he marched us up a street that has the Tiber River on one side. That river is little more than what we would consider a drainage ditch. At the end of the street, all of a sudden, we saw the square and St. Peter's Basilica in all their glory.
       "Bernini wanted the pilgrims who came to Rome to walk down that street and to be startled at the magnificence of what they suddenly beheld," Ray said. "It's pretty effective, isn't it? Most visitors come into the square from the museum exit on the side over there, so they miss out on the experience."
       "I got to tell you, this is un -- you-know-what -- believable," Justin said, again in deadpan. Again, he delighted Uncle Ray.
       The church itself was like nothing I could have even imagined. I had seen video of it on TV and all, but that didn't begin to capture the size or majesty of that place. Whether you're a Catholic or an atheist, a Muslim or a Hindu, seeing that place is going to take your breath away. After we walked around for a long time, we went down to the crypt, where St. Peter's tomb is and where a whole bunch of the other popes are buried. We stopped at the tomb of Pope John XXIII, and Ray explained to us who he was. He's the reason, Ray said, that we now have Mass in English, instead of in Latin, and why a million other things changed in the Church.
       "Boys, the reason Pope John was able to cause all those changes is he called into session the Second Vatican Council. It was in the early Sixties, and Ed Foley and I were in high school. Our religion teachers weren't very astute theologically, except for the one we had our senior year. He made us read about the Council, and we discussed the implications of the Church in the Modern World, changes in the Mass, and a great many other things. It's because of what he taught us that I wanted to become a religious and a priest. Today, this man buried here is a beatified saint, and my high school religion teacher, Brother Antoine, is probably all but forgotten."
       Tears were rolling down his face, but I could tell they were happy tears, not sad ones.

Chapter 02

(Kyle's Perspective)
       All that stuff in Rome was pretty impressive, but I got bored with it after a while. I mean, how many churches can you go into and not have them all look the same? I knew Tim and Brian were getting hard-ons every time we saw a Raphael or a Michelangelo or a Leonardo or a Bernini, but that shit got old to me.
       Uncle Ray was fabulous. He knew everything, and he told us stuff about the secret lives of the popes I never knew. Hell, I didn't even know the name of the pope. That's how educated I was about that stuff. Now I know it's Pope John Paul II, but I didn't know that before. They say the name of the "Holy Father" at Mass, but I didn't realize the Holy Father is the same one as the pope.
       The train ride from Rome to Paris was okay. Good, even. That was the first train I had ever been on except those train-like things in airports, and that was a very good experience.
       Paris is a beautiful city, and we had a good time there. Tim and Brian wanted to go to the Louvre Museum, so we did.
       "What is this bullshit?" Justin asked me in private.
       "Bullshit? It's a museum. One of the most famous ones in the world. What's wrong with you?" I asked.
       "You think this is fun?" he asked.
       "No, of course not," I said. "But I think our boys think it's fun. So you just need to shut the fuck up about it, okay?"
       "Okay," he said, and he did.
       Paris was fabulous, wonderful, unbelievable, etc. But then we went to London. Guess what? Every damn one of them speaks English. Every damn sign is in English. Everything is in the fucking English language. Everything. Every street sign. Every menu. Every graffiti on the stall in the men's room. We could understand every damn bit of it, and that was like coming home.
       We did a lot of the tourist shit in London. I mean, we went to the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace (yawn), Speakers' Corner in Hyde Park (yawn), and Piccadilly Circus (yawn). "Circus" means "circle," and all it is, is a traffic circle. It's a big one, and there's a huge monument to Lord Shaftsbury in the middle of it. The statue is of Eros, though, the Roman god of sex and love, which I think is totally right-on for Shaftsbury. Bury that shaft, Baby. Oh! Yeah! hehe.
       It's a pretty international place because it's pretty much all tourists. Not many locals, if any. But that's one of the places you have to go. We went to Westminster Abbey (another big church), St. Paul's Cathedral (another big church), the Tower of London (a big castle), Windsor Castle (another big castle and big church), and a bunch of other stuff.
       "Of the four big cities we've been to in Europe, this is the one for me," Justin said.
       "Oh, yeah? Why's that?" I asked.
       "It's so cool," he said.
       "Is it 'cause you speak the language?" I asked. I was hung up on that fact.
       "I know they're supposed to be talking English, Kyle, but I can only understand about half of it. I can understand everything in written, but I can't understand everything they say in spoken. I think I could learn this language faster than Italian or French, though," he said.
       "Justin, this is England. Eng-land. Eng-lish. There's a relationship. Get it?" I said.
       "Don't make fun of me, Kyle, 'cause I'll kick your fucking teeth out," he said. "I know it's fucking English, you asshole. But do you understand everything they say?"
       "I didn't understand everything you said when you first came home with us," Kyle said. "And you were just one state apart."
       "Okay, I guess. But I really like this place. More than I did Rome or Florence or Paris. And I really do think you might be right about the language," Justin said.
       I felt at home in London, and it didn't seem all that foreign to me. We went to a couple of plays, and we couldn't have done that in Paris. We didn't even look into it, in fact. But there were a million plays in London, and the tickets didn't cost as much as they do at home.
       We did a lot of stuff in London, but we also took day trips. One day we went to Warwick Castle and Stratford-Upon-Avon, Shakespeare's birthplace. Another day we went to Canterbury and Dover. Seeing the castle in Dover was awesome. Warwick Castle has been modernized, and people lived in it until 1978, or something like that, but the one in Dover is pure medieval. One of the coolest things was all the swords on the walls and ceilings that are arranged in patterns to look like art work. It reminded me of that bone church in Rome.
       * * *
       "So, what did you like the best of everything we did and every place we went?" Tim asked on the plane on the way home.
       "I dunno," I said. "Maybe Warwick Castle. Dover Castle. One of them, anyway. That was pretty damn cool, I thought. They could have left out the wax figures at Warwick, though, and just let you see the place. I was trying to imagine what it must have been like in those places during a siege. I should have lived back in those days."
       "Yeah, but you probably wouldn't have been in no castle," Justin said. "That was just for the dukes and the earls and the princes and such."
       "What makes you think I wouldn't have been a duke or an earl or a prince?" I said.
       "Yeah, with your luck, you probably would have been. I'd have been one of the servants or peasants or something. I can just see you as Lord Kyle. 'Get that big strapping one up here. I want to fuck his ass.' So up I'd go. Would you have fucked me, Kyle?" Justin asked.
       "I don't want to talk about that. That's stupid. What was your favorite thing?" I asked, changing the subject.
       "I don't know. It was all good," Justin said. "Maybe the plays. I don't know. You changed the subject, didn't you? You didn't want to say whether you'd have fucked me or not."
       "Justin, I'm not going to answer that. This whole conversation makes no sense, and you know it," I said.
       He laughed that "got you last" kind of laugh.
       "Shit, you prick. Okay, you got me last. So what?" I said.
       "So nothing," he said. "What was your favorite, Little Buddy?"
       "My favorite thing was St. Peter's in Rome," Brian said. "I would love to be there when the Pope says Mass."
       "It would probably be long as hell," Justin said, "but I guess it would be cool. One of the things I really liked in Rome was those soldiers we saw."
       "The ones in the airport?" Brian asked.
       "Yeah, they were cool with their Uzi's, but I meant the ones in the Vatican. The Swift Guards. I was in the men's room when one of them came in to take a leak. He and I had a smoke together, and he was just as nice as he could be. He spoke pretty good English, too," Justin said.
       "Swiss Guards, not the Swift Guards, dumbass," I said.
       "Swiss? That doesn't make sense," Justin said.
       "They're from Switzerland. They're all Swiss," Brian said.
       "For real? Swiss or Swift, that boy was mighty cute. And like I said, he was totally nice. He said he's been to America. Florida, even, to Disney World. He's married and has a little boy. He said he didn't have his wallet on him, so he couldn't show me a picture of him, but I could tell he was a proud papa," Justin said.
       "Those are the kinds of things I like best about traveling," Kyle said. "Meeting random people like that. You'll never see that guy again in your life, probably, but you'll always remember talking to him."
       "His brother's one, too, and his brother's gay," Jus said.
       "How long did you talk to this guy?" Brian asked.
       "Long enough for him to smoke two of my cigarettes. That's how long. He can't carry 'em in his outfit, so he said he has to bum 'em off tourists. That's how the whole thing got started. He asked me if I was married, and I said, 'No, but I got a life partner.' 'Is she here?' he asked me. 'It's a he, not a she,' I said. That's when he told me about his li'l brother," Jus said. "It was the most natural conversation in the world."
       "I think Americans are more hung up about homosexuality than Europeans are," Tim said. "I saw young gay couples holding hands everywhere we went. Of course, it might just be because we were in big cities."
       "What was your favorite, Babe?" I asked Tim.
       "I guess the Louvre. I had read a lot about it. But you know what? I also read that twenty-five percent of the most famous works of art in Europe are in Rome. That's incredible, don't you think?" Tim said.
       "Yeah, but there's a lot of money there," I said.
       We had already been in the air four hours, but we had a good four more to go to get to Atlanta. We made it a lot faster going than coming because of the tailwind on the way over. They came around offering drinks before dinner, and me and Justin got us one. After we ate, I went to sleep. I asked for two dinners, and they made me pay for the second one. That was all right, though. My little belly was full, I had a stiff drink under my belt, and I was off to la-la land for the rest of the trip to Atlanta.
       "Wake up," Justin was saying, almost shouting, and nudging me in the calf with his foot. "We're in Atlanta."
       "What?" I said.
       "Goddamn it, Kyle. We can't take you anywhere. Look at this thing," Jus said, slapping at my erection.
       "Cut it out. That hurts. I gotta pee," I said.
       "Well, wait till it goes down, for God's sake. It's going to be a while, anyway, before we can get out of here. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" he asked.
       "No, I'm not ashamed of myself. Don't you get hard when you sleep?" I asked.
       "I know. I'm just teasing you, Bubba, but don't think it went unnoticed. A couple of those male flight attendants were up and down this aisle constantly, looking at you," he said.
       "Well, I can't help that. Did you sleep?" I asked.
       "About an hour," he said. "Brian and Tim went sound asleep, too. Just like you."
       "That's why they serve turkey on these flights. Turkey makes you sleep," Brian said. "That's a fact. I'm not making that up."
       "It's also cheap," I said.
       The flight home to Emerald Beach from Atlanta took an hour, as it always does. We got home mid-morning, and they were all at the house when we got there. They seemed really glad to see us, and I was happy to be home. No matter how good a trip is, and that had been a good one for sure, it's good to get home.
       * * *
       We got home on a Thursday, and we pretty much lolled around that whole weekend. People don't realize that a trip like that one takes a lot out of you, never mind the jet lag. We're active boys at home, but we had pretty much been on the go non-stop for seventeen days, and we needed to rest up. And we needed to rest because on Monday every one of us had to report to Goodson Enterprises for our summer jobs.

(Todd's Perspective)
       Going home to Houston was culture shock for me. I mean, it was to the same house, and all, but the atmosphere was so much different than I remembered. My dad wasn't there, so it was peaceful for a change. I didn't care if I ever saw him again, and that made me feel guilty as hell. You're supposed to love your father, and I didn't. I didn't hate him, exactly, like I wanted to do something bad to him. I just didn't want him in my life.
       "You miss Emerald Beach, don't you, Son?" my mom asked a couple of days after I was back in Houston.
       "Yes, ma'am, I do. I miss the place. I miss Kevin and Rick. I miss my brothers," I said, and I burst into tears.
       "It was a good experience, wasn't it?" she asked.
       "Mom, it was the best. I'm a different person than I was when I went there. Letting me go there was the best thing you could have ever done for me," I said. "I now know what it can be like to be a gay boy. And a gay man. I'm always going to be gay, Mom. You know that, don't you?" I said.
       "Yes, Todd. I know that, and I accept that. I hope and pray you're being safe," she said.
       "You mean safe sex?" I asked.
       "Yes. That's exactly what I mean," she said.
       "Mom, I will be when the time comes, but I haven't had sex. I've never even kissed a boy. Or a girl, either, for that matter," I said.
       "I naturally assumed that in that environment . . . "
       "But, see, it isn't like that there, Mom. There were eight boys in the house, and three of us were virgins. There was no pressure on me to have sex. The older guys -- Kevin and Rick, Kyle and Tim, and Justin and Brian -- are all couples who are deeply in love. Denny has a boyfriend, and I think he has sex with him, but Murray, Pete, and I weren't having sex at all," I said. "Murray started dating this really, really nice guy about a month ago, so they'll probably get into sex soon, but I know he hasn't yet," I said.
       She kissed me on the forehead.
       "I'm proud of you, Son," she said.
       "For not having sex?" I asked.
       "No. For being honest with me," she said.
       "I do want to be honest with you, Mom. And here's something else I want to be honest about. I don't want to go back to Spencer Academy. I want to go to public school," I said.
       "Why? We can afford Spencer, and it's much smaller, and probably much better, than the local public high school," she said.
       "Mom, I don't have any friends at Spencer, and you and I both know why. I really don't want to go there," I said. "I want to go to a co-ed school."
       "Your father is going to have to agree, you know?" she said.
       No, I didn't know that. I thought she had custody of us.
       "Why?" I asked.
       "We have joint custody of you and your sisters. This is an important decision, and he has to be involved," she said.
       "Shit, Mom. I can't believe that," I said.
       All of a sudden I realized what I had said, and she hadn't flinched. That's a habit I picked up in the all-boy environment of Emerald Beach, and it's definitely a habit I need to break.
       "Well, believe it. It's true," she said.
       "How can he have the right to run my life, Mom? He hates me and I hate . . . "
       "Don't say that, Todd. Don't tell me you hate your father," she said.
       "Well, I do. He won't accept the fact that I'm gay, and he gave me nothing but grief about that for the last six months I lived here with him. Before that, he never took an interest in me, never talked to me except to get on to me for not being the best. I was an Eagle Scout at fourteen, Mom. Do you know how rare that is? And I had just turned fourteen. I was a star baseball player for Beachside High School in Emerald Beach. I've gotten all A's so far in high school. I don't know what else I can do to please him," I said.
       I dissolved into tears. She put her arm around me, and she wept as well.
       "He wants you to spend this weekend with him," she said.
       "No! Mom, I can't do that. I won't," I said.
       "But he's your father," she said.
       "I know he is, but he's not my dad. There's a difference, don't you think?" I asked.
       She took a heavy sigh.
       "Yes. There is a difference. And I know that. Those men in Emerald Beach are your dads, aren't they?" she asked.
       "Yes, ma'am. I love them. I honestly do," I said.
       "Todd, your father has absolutely no interest in your sisters. He never has, but he is interested in you. Please spend the weekend with him. For me. It'll make things so much easier," she said.
       "I'll do it for you, but not for him," I said.
       "Thank you. You're my man now, Todd. And you just proved that to me," she said.
       * * *
       He picked me up on Friday afternoon. I was definitely not looking forward to that weekend, but I knew I had it to do.
       He came into the house, kissed my mom on the cheek, and my two little sisters, too. He shook hands with me, and then he hugged me. So far, so good, but also so out of character.
       "Have you had dinner yet?" he asked, when I got into the car.
       "No, sir," I said.
       "How about pizza? I could use some pizza," he said.
       "Yeah, that's good," I said.
       We went to the pizza place, and we ordered a large with extra meat. We got salads from the salad bar while we waited, and we both started eating when we sat down.
       "So. Tell me about Florida. Did you see your grandmother at all?" he asked.
       "Yes, sir. I saw her several times, and she's doing well. I don't really think she likes the nursing home, but that's the best place for her," I said. "Her roommate is a really nice lady."
       "I know she is. We've met her," he said. "Her grandson was with you in Emerald Beach, wasn't he?" he said.
       It surprised the hell out of me that he knew that.
       When we got to his place, he showed me around the apartment. It was sort of nice, with three bedrooms and three bathrooms. The furniture was either brand new or stuff we used to have in our house before we got new furniture.
       Once we were in the living room, I picked up the remote for the TV to turn it on.
       "Todd, before you watch TV, there's something I want to talk to you about. And I want to get it over with right away," he said. "I've done a lot of thinking over the last five or six months, Son, and I want to apologize for the way I behaved toward you. You have every right to be angry with me, but I hope you'll put that behind you so we can be friends."
       "Dad, I . . . " but that was as far as I could go.
       "Todd, I never really doubted that you're gay. Fourteen-year-old boys don't say that about themselves unless it's true, and I know that. I desperately wanted it to be a phase because I desperately wanted what I experienced at that age to be a phase in my life. I now know it wasn't, Son," he said.
       I was stunned. I heard what he said, but I wasn't sure what it meant.
       "Uh, Dad? Did you just come out to me?" I asked.
       "Yes, Todd. I did," he said.
       "Does Mom know?" I asked. I was suddenly very nervous, and I felt protective of her.
       "Not officially, but I'm sure she's suspected it for years," he said. "I wanted you to be the first in the family to know officially, but she and I are going out to dinner Sunday night. I'll tell her then. This is an enormous relief to me, Son. An enormous relief."
       "Are you . . . " I said.
       "Am I dating someone? Yes, and if you feel up to it, I'd like you to meet him this weekend," he said. "He's a dermatologist. As I'm sure you know, a lot of my referrals come from dermatologists, especially in cases of skin cancer. I've known him for a few years professionally, and I've known he's gay. He lost his partner in an automobile accident about eight months ago. He was devastated by the loss, and, somehow, we gravitated toward each other. He's about two years younger than I am, and we've been seeing each other since I left home. I never cheated on your mother. I promise you that. Of course I wanted to several times, but I didn't."
       "So, you didn't leave Mom for him? Is that what you're saying?" I asked.
       "That's right. I left your mother because our relationship was totally empty, totally a facade," he said. "I care about your mother a great deal, and she and I will always be close friends, but there's no physical attraction to her for me."
       "Wow!" I said.
       "Are you shocked?" he asked.
       I thought before I answered him.
       "Surprised, I guess. Not that you're gay, or bi, or whatever, but that you wanted to talk to me about it," I said.
       "Don't you think it would have been hypocritical of me not to?" he asked.
       "I guess. I don't know, Dad," I said. "Are you happy?"
       "Very happy, Son. Except for the time right after you were born, I've never been happier," he said.
       "Me, but not the girls?" I asked.
       "I love your sisters, and I'll always take care of them, but they were both accidents. Your mother and I made love so rarely that we were out of practice using contraception. You don't want the details, Son," he said.
       I smiled for the first time since he picked me up.
       "You're right," I said, and he laughed.
       * * *
       The weekend I had dreaded turned out to be amazing. We talked and talked and talked, and it was like two artichokes peeling back the protective outer leaves to expose their hearts. I feel as though I got to know my dad that weekend, and it turned out he's a hell of a good guy. He's extremely proud of my achievements, in scouts, in school, and on the diamond. Several times it crossed my mind to ask him why he hadn't said those things to me before, but I figured he had had his reasons at the time.
       His boyfriend, David, is great, too, and I saw the same warm vibes of love between them that I've seen between Kevin and Rick. I know what two men in love look like, and they definitely are. David took us out to eat Saturday night at the country club he belongs to, and he spent the night at the apartment in my dad's room with him.
       We skipped church Sunday morning, and I thought about all those Sunday mornings in the den in Emerald Beach. I went out into the living room in just my briefs, as I'm used to doing, and, to my surprise, Dad and David came out the same way. Both of them are good-looking guys, and Dad is in much better shape than I remembered. Not that I had ever seen him in just his underwear, of course, but I had seen him in a bathing suit a bunch of times. It was a very relaxed and casual morning.
       At some point in our talking, I brought up the business about going to public school. I laid out my reasons, and, much to my surprise, Dad said he wouldn't oppose it if my mother didn't object. Whoa! That was a relief.
       We went out to eat lunch, and then we walked around a mall for a few hours Sunday afternoon. We went back to the apartment long enough for me to get my clothes, and then Dad took me home. David either stayed at the apartment or went to his own house, I don't know which. I knew Mom was supposed to go out to dinner with Dad, and it was late enough for that.
       "David's a great guy, Dad. You're in love with him, aren't you?" I said, while he was driving me home.
       He smiled shyly.
       "It's a little early for that kind of talk, I think," he said.
       "Dad, I know what love between two guys looks like. I've lived in the middle of it for the last five months," I said.
       "Are we that obvious?" he asked.
       "Not out in public, but at home you are," I said.
       "I guess a gay man can tell when two other gay men are a couple," he said.
       I chuckled.
       "What about yourself? Did you meet anyone in Florida?"
       "No, sir. I met a lot of gay guys, that's for sure, but I didn't have a boyfriend or anything. I'm still a virgin, and I've never even kissed anyone," I said.
       "You have time, Son. Maybe you'll meet a friend, now that you're back," he said.
       "I'm not really in a rush, but I know it will happen, eventually," I said.
       "Todd, I know I told you how proud I am of you, but it's way beyond pride. I'm in awe. You're a real man, aren't you?" he said.
       "Well, probably not," I said. "I probably still have some growing up to do."
       "Don't we all?" he said.

(Pete's Perspective)
       School is out, and that's fine with me. Those boys take that school stuff seriously. I was kind of like a fish out of water, so to speak, because I had been out of school for so long. It wasn't that bad, but I felt a little self-conscious being two years older, or more, than everybody in my classes. I mean, I have to shave every day, and a few of the boys in my swimming class don't even have pubic hair yet. I talked about fitting in with my counselor before the school year was over. Her name is Mrs. Ayers.
       "How's it going, Pete?" she asked me one day. I had an appointment to look at my schedule for next year.
       "I don't know. At home it's going great for the first time in my life, but school isn't really my thing, you know?" I said.
       She studied a folder full of stuff she had in front of her. I figured it was about me.
       "Hmmm," she said. "Were you out of school for a couple of years?"
       "Yes, ma'am. Two and a half years, really. These last few weeks are the first time I've been to high school. I feel really dumb being here, you know?" I said.
       "Well, you mustn't," she said. "We'll help you get through."
       "Yes, ma'am," I said. I figured that was my fate. I couldn't do anything about it.
       Kevin and Rick put me to work as soon as school was over, and I'm glad of that. They give me money every month, but I want to save up to buy a car. I mean, Denny, Murray, and I have a really nice car to use, but it doesn't belong to me. I want my own car.
       I'm a pool boy. What is that? It's kind of a waiter/salesman/maintenance man sort of thing. The pay is $10 an hour, and I didn't know if that's good, bad, or indifferent. I figure Rick and Kevin make a lot more than that, but I really don't know.
       "How you liking being a pool boy?" Kyle asked me one day, just after they got back from Europe.
       "It's okay," I said.
       "You scoping out the boys?" he asked.
       "Yeah, pretty much," I said. "Am I making a good wage, Kyle?"
       "How much are you making? Ten?" he asked.
       "Yeah. Is that good, or can I do better somewhere else?" I asked.
       "I make $4.75 an hour as a bellhop. But, of course, I also get tips. You probably get some tips, too, don't you?" he asked.
       "A few. You only make $4.75? I hope your tips are better than mine," I said.
       "They are," he said. "You know how this thing works, don't you?"
       "Not really," I said.
       "Well, they start you at some low-level job, like pool boy or beach boy. You do that for a summer or two, and then maybe you become a bellhop. Then you work up to desk clerk. Then, when you graduate from college, you move into sales. Those are salary jobs, which means you don't get paid by the hour. Then, if you're good at that, they move you up. You know this is a family thing, right? That you can have a job with this company your whole life, if you want one? And if you don't screw up too bad?" he asked.
       "I figured there was some kind of family connection through Kevin and Rick, but I don't know what it is," I said.
       "Just trust me, Bubba. This company takes care of family, that's for sure," he said.
       "Are you family?" I asked.
       "Yeah, and so are you," he said.
       "What if I never go to college?" I asked.
       "Pete, you can, man. If Justin can do it, anybody can," Kyle said.
       "I don't know, Kyle," I said.
       "Justin, tell this boy he can go to college, please," Kyle said.
       "Yeah. You can go. It's all right with me," Justin said. He hadn't really been listening to what Kyle and I had been talking about.
       "Justin, encourage the man, okay? Don't be a dumb fuck on me now," Kyle said.
       "Encourage him to do what?" Justin asked.
       "Davis, step over here," Kyle said.
       "No. I ain't stepping over nowhere with you. I don't want you touching me, Kyle," Justin said.
       "Bubba, I'm being serious now, okay? Please," Kyle said. Kyle used a very different tone of voice than he usually uses with Justin, and Justin knew he wasn't teasing.
       "Okay," Justin said.
       They stepped over to where I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I knew it was about me.
       They came back.
       "Pete, Kyle and I tease each other a lot, as you know. But what he's telling you is the truth, man. You need to hang in there, get a college degree. I'm doing it, and I'm the last one on God's green earth who should be able to," Justin said.
       "But I never went to high school before," I said.
       "Shit, I never went the first day," Justin said. "I went to adult school and passed my GED test. I just graduated from Emerald Coast. You were there. You saw it. Pretty soon I'm going to be going to the University of New Orleans. Let me tell you something. Your brothers in this house will help you, man. They got me through, and they'll get you through, too."
       * * *
       As nice as they all are to me, I still feel like the odd man out. The older guys are all partnered up, Denny has a real cute little boyfriend, and even Murray is dating. Murray's guy is just pure sweetness, and I envy them all. They never talk about having sex with their boyfriends, but I feel pretty sure they are.
       I know they make out because I've seen them. The car for the three younger guys is the Celica, and, as fine as that car is, it really only seats four people. Denny and Murray are best friends, and they and their boyfriends often go out on double dates. Brian has a nice Mazda that seats five, and a lot of times they borrow Brian's car so I can go with them. Usually what we do is go to a movie or skating or go-carts or Goofy Golf or something like that. We get something to eat at Burger King or Subway or someplace, and then we go down to the beach. Sometimes all five of us stay together to walk around and talk. Other times the two couples go off in different directions to be alone. I figure that's when they make out or have sex or do whatever they do. I'm by myself, and almost every time I jerk off right there on the open beach.
       I want a boyfriend. More than I want a boyfriend, though, I want sex. Isn't that what every sixteen-year-old boy wants? I mean, that's all I think about. I don't consider myself a bad person for wanting it, either. They tell these stories about this guy named Sean, who was gone before I got here. Evidently, he had sex five or six times a day, with a different guy every time. I never hear Kevin or Rick badmouth Sean for doing that, but the boys damn sure do. I sure don't want that kind of reputation, but I want sex. I want to see what it's like. I want to kiss a boy and hold him in my arms. I know what they say about horny teenagers, but I am one.
       I endured it until after the big guys came home from Europe, but then I had to talk to somebody. I chose Kyle and Justin. Tim and Brian are wonderful guys, and I really like them, but I don't think they have nearly the street smarts that Kyle and Justin have. I know I could have talked to Kevin and Rick about it, too, but they're grown-ups. They're my parents. I waited until Kyle and Justin were in the clubhouse by themselves, and then I approached them.
       "Hey, Pete. You want to play?" Kyle asked. They were shooting pool.
       "Naw, but can we talk?" I asked.
       They looked at each other with serious expressions on their faces. They knew I wanted to talk serious.
       "Sure, Bubba," Justin said. "Let's sit down. Kyle, you know what I want more than anything in the world right now?"
       Kyle got kind of an exasperated look on his face.
       "No," he said.
       "A coke float. I been thinking about one of those all day. Is there any ice cream out here?" Justin asked.
       "Oh, that would absolutely hit the spot, Bubba. You want one, Pete?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah, but I really do need to talk to you all," I said.
       "We know, and we want to talk to you, too. But we'll talk a lot better on a contented stomach. Y'all come make 'em," Kyle said.
       We made coke floats in the kitchen in plastic glasses that could have passed for small barrels, and we settled down in the clubhouse.
       "What's on your mind, Bubba?" Kyle asked.
       "Don't make fun of me, okay?" I said.
       "No way," Justin said.
       I wasn't sure if he meant, No way would they make fun of me, or, No way would they NOT make fun of me. I decided to go ahead anyway.
       "What's on my mind is sex," I said.
       I expected a wisecrack or a tease, but they didn't say anything.
       "Go on," Justin said.
       I explained to them about wanting a boyfriend and about wanting to experience what it's like to have sex, and all the rest of the stuff I had been thinking about, especially about Sean.
       "You ain't no Sean, Pete," Justin said. "That boy was disturbed, and you don't seem to be. What you're telling us is, you got the natural urge to have sex. That's all. If you didn't have that urge, we'd be worried to death about you. No shame in that, Bubba."
       That already made me feel better.
       "How do I make it happen?" I asked.
       "Hmmm. It's not really that complicated," Justin said. "If it was school time, I'd say look for a boy at school. But it's not. Who's your partner? Your work partner?"
       "Blake Crawford from next door," I said.
       "Aw, forget about him. He's straight, and, if he ain't, he and Riley are boyfriends," Justin said. "But I really think he's straight."
       "What I would do is find a tourist," Kyle said. "Somebody who's staying at the hotel. He needs to be around your age, maybe a little younger or just a little bit older, but stay away from the old guys. Check 'em out. Find one you like and flirt with him. Talk to him. The thing to watch for is guys who are checking you out. If you see one, go talk to him. Ask him where he's from, where he goes to school, what grade he's in. That kind of stuff. Ask him out. You like to skate, don't you?"
       "Yeah," I said.
       "Ask him to go skating. He'll probably say he has to go out to eat with his family. Tell him y'all can go out after that. If y'all are skating, you can touch him. I don't mean in a sexual way. Just your hands on his shoulders from behind, on his hips, bumping him on the shoulder with your shoulder. That kind of shit," Kyle said. "If he don't object or say anything, take it to the next level. Not there in the skating rink, of course, but later on. Go for a walk on the beach. Sit him down. If it seems like he might want to, kiss him. Gentle and soft a couple of times. If he doesn't punch your lights out, you're probably home free."
       Justin laughed.
       "Pete, by that point, you'll know," Justin said. "If you get that far, that boy's not going to punch your lights out. Do you know about kissing with tongue?"
       "Yeah, sort of. I've never done it, though," I said.
       "I think it must be a natural instinct or something," Justin said. "That's where you want to get to. It might be the third date, instead of the first. More than likely, he's going to be here for a week. That seems to be what most of them do. Take it slow."
       "Yeah. Take it slow. Don't scare the boy off," Kyle said. "Course, you might get one that's done it all before, and he might take over before you even have a chance to. With one like that, y'all might both come on that first date. But here's the thing you got to remember above all else. Be safe. If you just jerk each other off, that's safe. But if anybody sticks a dick into anybody else, mouth or butt, it's got to be covered with a condom. No exception to that rule. You're going to be having random sex, if you're lucky, and that's got to be protected."
       "Or, you might spend a week making out with a guy and neither one of you comes," Justin said. "You'll know, though. Probably."
       "How do I make that happen?" I asked.
       "Well, when y'all are kissing, y'all are both going to get hard. Reach down and start rubbing his dick through his shorts," Justin said. "If he don't want that, he'll tell you. But he'll want it. Guide his hand to your dick, if you have to. Unzip him and take it out. Y'all, talking about this has made me hard as a fucking rock."
       We all laughed.
       "Deal with it, Davis. It ain't the first time. Our li'l brother needs advice, and we're giving it to him. This is our job," Kyle said.
       "I wasn't complaining. I was just stating a fact," Justin said.
       "Pete, have you got some idea of what to do now? How to approach the situation?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah. A lot better than I did," I said. "What if he wants to do more than that?"
       "You only ever do what you feel totally comfortable doing, okay? Promise us that," Kyle said. "And promise us you'll always use protection."
       "I promise," I said.
       "That's why I said find one your age or around your age. No older guys, okay? No babies, either, but you know that," Kyle said. "At least a little pubic hair is a must."
       "Good luck," Justin said. "I want another float. That one was damn good."
       "Me, too. Let's go make 'em," Kyle said. "You want another one?"
       "No, thanks," I said. I was so full from that one that I was about to bust. "Thanks for talking to me, guys. I really appreciate it."
       "No problem, Bubba. Let us know how you do," Kyle said, and they went off to make more coke floats.
       * * *
       That conversation took place in the afternoon of the Saturday after they came back from Europe, and Monday morning I started implementing their ideas. By that afternoon I had a date with a fifteen-year-old boy from just outside Atlanta. Just as they had said, he had to have dinner with his family that night, but I picked him up about ten minutes after he called me on my cell to say they were back at the hotel.
       We went skating and had a great time. We got something to eat, and then we went out onto the beach proper. Within ten minutes I had my tongue in his mouth, and he had his in mine. That boy had done that before. In twenty minutes, he was on top of me, rubbing his naked dick against my naked dick, naked chest to naked chest. We both shot big loads pretty quick, but, in a little while, we did it all again.
       Kyle and Justin button-holed me Tuesday morning.
       "How was the date?" Justin asked.
       "It went good. And we came good," I said, grinning.
       "For real?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah. You were right, Kyle. Last night wasn't the first time for him," I said.
       "All right, Bubba. I reckon there are no more virgins in this house," Kyle said.
       I didn't "get lucky" like that every night, but it happened five or six more times during the first part of the summer. Sometimes Kyle lent us his big-ass Land Cruiser, and Denny, Murray, and I triple dated. Before long, I had even given and received oral sex a few times, and I no longer had to wonder what it was like. I knew. And I was faithful to my promise about using protection.
       Dating different guys every night was fun, but I made up my mind that what I really want is a boyfriend. I want somebody who's my friend, first of all, but who wants to have sex, too. I didn't know if I'd find somebody like that, though.
       Then I met Mario. He's nineteen, and he works as a bellhop at the same hotel I work at. Mario takes a smoke break in the morning and in the afternoon, and he usually walks out to the pool to smoke. His break only lasts about fifteen minutes, but that was long enough for us to strike up conversations.
       Mario's from Mexico, and his skin is a rich, golden brown. He isn't as dark as dark-skinned African Americans are, and he really doesn't have African-American facial features, either. He told me he's a Latino. Even though I'm growing, I'm still pretty short, around five feet, six inches, and Mario is the same size as me. I noticed that Mario liked to look around as we were talking.
       "What are you looking at?" I asked him one day.
       We had been talking twice a day for a couple of weeks by then, so I felt like I knew him well enough to ask a question like that.
       "Just checking out the scenery," he said.
       He really doesn't have a strong Spanish accent, but you can tell he isn't a native, just by the way he talks.
       "I think you're looking at the guys," I said.
       I was all set to make a joke out of that, if he seemed offended. He didn't, though.
       "Well, you know, it takes all kinds," he said. "What about yourself? Do you check out the boys?"
       I shrugged. "Like you said, it takes all kinds," I said.
       "I guess so. Are you dating anybody?" he asked.
       "I've been dating some this summer," I said. "Nobody in particular, though. Tourists, mostly. I meet them out here."
       "Would you ever like to get together for a movie or something?" he asked.
       "Sure," I said. "That would be fun."
       We did get together for movies several times. After a movie, we'd get something to eat and just talk.
       "Pete, we haven't yet said the G word," he said one night.
       "What G word?" I asked. I was getting a little nervous.
       "'Gay.' Pete, I'm gay, and I think you are, too," he said. "And I would like to kiss you and hold you. I want us to be boyfriends."
       I'm sure my smile must have almost blinded him. We were in Wendy's sitting in a booth across from each other. I got bold and took his hands into mine.
       "I'm ready," I said, and he smiled in return.

Chapter 03

(Kevin's Perspective)
       The last few weeks of the second semester were unbelievably hectic on North Lagoon Drive. I mean, we had four guys graduating, two from Emerald Coast Community College and two from Beachside High School; a prom that the four older boys were involved with; two valedictions to compose and rehearse; graduation parties that Kyle and Tim attended; a couple of parties that Justin and Brian went to, as well; and the year-end bar-b-que and keg party for Kyle's fraternity.
       We had a big party for Kyle and Justin when they graduated, and another big party for Tim and Brian. My relatives came from New Orleans for both graduations, and, while we put them up at Kyle's condo, they added to the commotion -- and the merriment.
       As usual, little Rob was the center of attention, and he gets cuter and cuter every time we see him. He's pulling up and taking a few steps before he falls on his ass, and that is so cute. Trixie and Krewe are crazy about that baby. When he falls down trying to walk, they try to nudge him up with their noses. Kyle must have taken five hundred pictures of the baby and the dogs, and it wouldn't surprise me one bit if he gets another book out of the three of them together. And Rob seems to know that those are his dogs, too. The pictures are really going to be unbelievably cute.
       When the boys went to Dune Island for the last camping trip when all of them would be together, the house seemed like a tomb. Ordinarily, my relatives would have stayed for the weekend, but they had commitments at home they had to get back for on the Friday the guys went camping.
       "My God. This is creepy," Rick said when everyone had cleared out.
       "I know. Has it ever been like this?" I asked. "This quiet, I mean?"
       "I'm sure it has been, but I can't remember when," he said. "We ought to go on a trip ourselves."
       "Do you really want to?" I asked.
       I would have gone anywhere he wanted to go, but, frankly, I was looking forward to just being at home with him and enjoying some peace and quiet.
       "Hell, no, I don't want to go anywhere," he said. "The only place I want to go is into that bedroom with you."
       "I was just thinking. We can cuddle nude on the sofa in the den all we want to," I said.
       "Great idea," he said. "Come here."
       He took me into his arms and kissed me passionately. That was another thing we hadn't been able to do out in the open for a long time. He started undressing me, and I started working on his clothes, too. We were in the den, and it was ten o'clock in the morning.
       Our lovemaking was spontaneous and uninhibited. Rick topped me on the floor in front of the fireplace, and twenty minutes later I topped him on the sofa. Feeling him inside me gave me a sense of security and completeness that's difficult to describe, and being in him made me know that he surrendered his whole being to me, to us. Later, that evening, we would luxuriate in each other's flesh, but that morning we communicated passion and depth and commitment in ways that were beyond spoken language.
       We drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, neither of us with a care in the world but each other. We slept for about an hour, and we woke up around noon. The first sound I heard was a deep rumble coming from my lover's stomach.
       "I think I'm hungry," he said.
       I giggled, and he did, too.
       "Do you want to go get some lunch?" I asked.
       "Yeah. And let's go to Gulf World and Zoo World this afternoon. You want to?" he asked.
       "That's a great idea. We've never done that, have we?" I said. "Craig went that time with Kyle and Philip and Ryan, and he loved it. Gulf World, anyway. Let's do that, Babe. Do you want to call somebody to see if they want to go?"
       "Nope. I want you all to myself today," he said.
       We were pretty cummy after our tryst, so we each took a shower and put on fresh shorts and tee shirts. We ate at one of the touristy restaurants that we never go to otherwise, and we lingered over lunch for more than an hour. We both had lobster salad, made with those shovel-nosed lobsters like Kyle and Philip catch.
       Then we went to Gulf World. It's really quite impressive, and Rick and I laughed like little kids at the antics of the trained dolphins in their show. The place is beautifully landscaped, and we strolled around taking in the sights. We saw a young male couple holding hands, so I took Rick's hand in mine. We got a few stares, and I'm sure more than one set of parents took the opportunity to explain to their children that we're going to hell and why we're going there. We didn't keep that up for very long, though, because we both found walking around holding hands to be physically awkward, but we made our statement. Our wrists just don't bend and twist the way they need to for that to be comfortable.
       It took longer to see Gulf World than we had thought it would, so we decided to postpone Zoo World until later in the weekend. As we were leaving, two men in their mid-fifties came up to us.
       "We saw you guys holding hands," one of them said.
       "Yeah? So?" Rick said.
       I could tell he was prepared to be defensive, but it was pretty clear to me those two guys are on our team.
       "So, thank you," the second one said. "Thank you for your courage. You did us proud."
       "Oh. I'm sorry I bowed up just now," Rick said. "I didn't know what was coming."
       "That's perfectly understandable. Where are you all from?" the first one said.
       "Here. We live here," Rick said.
       "Really?"
       "Yeah. We've just been through a hellacious month of graduations and such, and all of our kids are on a camping trip. We just decided to do some tourist things today," Rick said.
       "Kids? How many? What ages?" the first guy asked.
       "Eight kids. Foster kids, not our biological kids," Rick said. "How old are they, Kevin?"
       "Two nineteen, one eighteen, one seventeen, three sixteen, and one fourteen," I said. "All boys, and all gay."
       "Oh, my God! That's incredible. If you don't have plans, why don't you let us buy you dinner? We'd love to hear about your family," the second guy said. "I'm Ryan, by the way, and this is Ricky. What do you say?"
       They seemed so nice and so eager to get to know us.
       "What do you think, Babe?" I asked Rick.
       "I think we're about to make some new friends," Rick said.
       * * *
       We had dinner with Ryan and Ricky. They wanted to go to The Captain's Table, which really is one of the fifty best restaurants in North America, and the wait in line proves that. We had been there a few times with Kyle and the other boys, but Kyle knows a secret password that's reserved for Beach Rats so we had gotten a table in less than ten minutes with him along. We don't know it, though.
       We waited about an hour for a table, but it was far from unpleasant. They have a beautiful patio that overlooks Grand Lagoon, and we watched the fishing boats come in and unload while we had drinks.
       It turned out that Ryan and Ricky -- whose real given name is Ricky, and not Richard -- live in the Durham-Chapel Hill area of North Carolina. Ryan is a professor of sociology at Duke University, and Ricky is a professor of social work at UNC in Chapel Hill. They are both fifty-six years old, and they have been together thirty years. They had each been married in their early twenties. Ryan has a gay son who had problems with drugs and alcohol as a younger man but who is now in a stable relationship of eight years' duration, clean and sober. Ricky has two grown daughters and four grandchildren. He was estranged from the girls for a number of years, but, since the death of his ex-wife, they've been a family.
       "Tell us about your boys," Ryan said.
       That question was all it took for us to launch into the story of the Foley-Mashburn clan. We got about halfway through that when our table was ready, so we continued it in the dining room.
       "Gentlemen, what I've just heard may be unique," Ryan said.
       "You want us to do a study, don't you?" Ricky said.
       "Let's explore this," Ryan said.
       He put it all in the context of the recent Lawrence v. Texas Supreme Court case that struck down sodomy laws. He pointed out that the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals is, even now, considering a lawsuit to strike down the Florida law that forbids adoption by gay people. He said it's the harshest law of its kind in the country, and legal people are cautiously optimistic that the Florida law will be stricken, in light of the Lawrence decision.
       "The body of evidence strongly supports the fitness of gay couples to raise children, and you boys are proving it over and over every day. The American Pediatric Society, the American Medical Association, the American Psychological Association, and every social-work organization that I know of have all come out in favor of gay adoption. I realize you haven't adopted these boys . . . "
       "Yet," Rick said.
       "Yet, but I think there is extremely fertile ground for scientific study here, guys. As far as I know, there has been no study specifically of a gay couple who have served as foster parents to gay adolescent boys," Ryan said. "Adolescent boys are probably the most neglected segment of the foster-care population in scientific research, and gay adolescent boys are, without question, THE most neglected. Most of them never even make it into foster homes. They end up on the street or in jail or dead."
       "What all would be involved?" I asked.
       "Well, interviews, of course. Case histories. Behavioral indices. Psychological profiles. Academic histories. Maybe even some medical history. A lot," Ryan said. "I can see a number of individual studies coming out of this, plus a book summarizing all of it."
       "Iono," Rick said. He and I looked at each other and grinned.
       "What?" Ryan asked.
       "That's the way some of the boys talk, Ryan. We call it the Emerald Beach Grumble, and, for not being a native, Rick does it extremely well," I said. "I'm sorry. It's kind of an inside joke. I assume that in a study like this, confidentiality is preserved and protected."
       "Oh, absolutely. How many boys and young men have lived in your home?" Ryan asked.
       "Gosh. I don't think we've ever counted them up. Probably fifteen. Maybe more," I said.
       "Oh, my God, Kevin," Ryan said. "That's perfect. Two or three, and it wouldn't have much impact. But fifteen! My God! That's a gold mine."
       "It might be more than that. Let's figure it out, Babe. The eight we have now. Seth, Paddy, Alex, Jeff, Chuck. Who else? Ken Balch, although he was an adult. Chris Uhle, although he isn't gay. David Uhle, for a short time. Ron Grisham. Andy Callaway and Trey Hudson. Trey came to our house to die of AIDS, so you can't really include him. And there are a lot of boys who have spent a lot of time in our house without actually living there. Babe, I'm thinking of Philip and Ryan. They came to us the night Philip's dad caught them together, remember?" I said
       "I counted twenty names just now," Ryan said.
       "Of course, there was Sean. He's dead now, too. But he was with us for a good five months or more, and, ironically, he's probably had the biggest impact on us of any of them. Negative impact," I said. "He was beaten to death in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in a gay-related killing."
       "Guys, we have a treasure trove of data here. Let's swap cards right now. I want you all to think about this, and I want you to talk to the boys about it, too. This is a chance to make a real, lasting contribution to social science, and I'd hate for you to pass it up," Ryan said. "And I can get a grant like that [he snapped his fingers] to support it. This is incredibly powerful stuff, Kevin and Rick. Incredibly powerful. And to think it all came about because you guys held hands in front of a stingray pool. God! I'm giddy over this."
       * * *
       That was a nice evening, and it gave me food for thought for several days. Cherie had hinted months -- maybe even a couple of years -- before that our family is unique and probably needs to be studied scientifically, but I hadn't thought of it even once in the time since she had said that. Now, all of a sudden, because Rick and I held hands at Gulf World, two social scientists, from very major universities, are interested in conducting a study of us and the boys. The next morning I got Cherie on the phone.
       "Hey, Bubba. What's up? You can't get enough of me, can you?" she said.
       "No, I can't, but this is a business call," I said.
       "Is somebody in trouble?" she asked, all concerned.
       "No. It's nothing like that," I said.
       "Kevin, I've never told you this before, but when the doctor inserted into me that syringe containing your semen, all I could think of was your penis entering me. Taking me," she said.
       "Have I called at a bad time? Are you on an acid trip or something?" I asked.
       She laughed so loud, I thought she was going to burst my eardrum.
       "You just will not let me get you last, will you?" she said, once she had stopped laughing.
       "Not today, Sis," I said.
       "I'm sorry, Bubba. What's going on?" she asked.
       I told her about meeting Ryan and Ricky the night before and what they proposed.
       "Kevin, here's the thing. You and Rick and your boys are in a unique position to contribute to the scientific knowledge regarding gay parenting. Some people would disagree with me because of the privacy issues and the time that will be involved for you guys, but my position is this. You can help them discover knowledge that nobody else can, and I think you have the moral obligation to make that knowledge known," she said.
       "Whoa! Moral obligation?" I said.
       "Yes, Bubba. Moral obligation. You don't really have a choice, Kevin. I know you guys have just been trying to live out your lives as ordinary people out of the limelight. But see, that's the beauty of it. You're just regular, ordinary people. You're not an experiment. You and Rick have built your family one kid at a time, and it's been unbelievably successful. You've taken them as they've come. It's time to share what you guys have learned, and what the boys have learned, so that, maybe, the world can be a better place for other gay boys like yours. And maybe for other foster families, too, gay and straight," she said.
       "If Rick and I decide to do this, will you come here and stand by us?" I asked.
       "You don't need a lawyer for that, Kevin," she said. "When is it going to happen?"
       "I don't know 'when.' I don't even know 'if,' yet. The kids are all on Dune Island. Even the dogs. We have to talk to them about it to see if they're willing," I said.
       "Kevin, they'll be willing, and you know it. I'll come as your sister-in-law, if you want me to, but you don't need a lawyer for scientific research," she said.
       "Okay," I said, "but Rob has to come with you on every trip."
       "He will. He definitely will," she said. "That's what this is all about, isn't it? Getting Rob there?"
       I just laughed.
       * * *
       The boys came home late Sunday afternoon, too late, in fact, for us to go to Mass that weekend. They all had pretty good tans before they went to the island, but their tans were much darker and deeper when they returned.
       Sunday night was bittersweet, at best. Todd was leaving the next day to go home to Houston, and nobody was in a good mood about that.
       "Perk up, Kyle," Justin said.
       We were in the den, supposedly watching TV, but nobody was saying much of anything, or paying much attention to the TV.
       "Leave me the fuck alone, Justin," Kyle said, somewhat annoyed.
       "Here comes the little man, Kyle," Justin said, "walking" the first two fingers of his right hand down his leg and getting ready to cross over to Kyle's. Justin was getting ready to tickle him.
       "If you touch me, Davis, I'm going to break those fingers. Just know that," Kyle said.
       Justin pulled back his hand.
       "Kyle, he ain't dying. We're going to see him again," Justin said. "I know you love Todd. We all do. But he's going to a good place, man. Don't be so down."
       "I'm going to be as down as I want to be, Justin. You don't know him the way I do," Kyle said.
       "Maybe not, Kyle, but I know he's a good boy. And I know he's an asset to this family," Justin said.
       "Don't fight about me, guys," Todd said.
       "We're not fighting about you. But, Todd, a boy I love very much is leaving here tomorrow, and he might not ever come back. I'm sorry, but I can't be happy about that," Kyle said.
       It was dead quiet in the room, except for the TV. Kyle hit the power button on the TV remote. And then he started to sing in that pure, clear voice of his.

               “Blame it all on my roots
               I showed up in boots
               And ruined your black tie affair
               The last one to know
               The last one to show
               I was the last one
               You thought you'd see there
               And I saw the surprise
               And the fear in his eyes
               When I took his glass of champagne
               And I toasted you
               Said, honey, we may be through
               But you'll never hear me complain”

       That's when most of us joined in.


               “Cause I've got friends in low places
               Where the whiskey drowns
               And the beer chases my blues away
               And I'll be okay
               I'm not big on social graces
               Think I'll slip on down to the oasis
               Oh, I've got friends in low places “

       By the time Kyle got through the first verse and we got through the chorus, Brian had the CD on the player on repeat, and everybody was singing. If our family has an anthem, it is surely that song. And it always makes us smile and perk up. That song is so popular that everybody knows the words, even though it's quite old, and that line, "and I'll be okay," means so much to us.
       We played it several times, and, of course, we were all up dancing. While it was true we were losing our brother, Todd, the next morning, we would always have Todd in our hearts. Compared to Justin and Kyle, he is a young kid, but he's their brother. I know they will never forget him.
       We played lots more Garth Brooks that night, and other bands, too, and we danced and we danced and we danced. We celebrated Todd within our family, without a fancy party or an elaborate meal. We celebrated a boy that we all love and that we will all miss, but we knew things were going to be good for him. And, if they aren't, he can always come back. In a sense, Todd is really what foster care is all about. He needed care for a short time, and he is returning to his family as a whole person, better off for the experience.
       It's impossible for me not to contrast Todd with Sean. I mean, they came from similar, if not identical, backgrounds. They both came from affluence, as I did, and they both had parents who are very career focused, as I have. The difference between them is character, I suppose. Maybe Todd has it but Sean didn't. Maybe Sean had character, too, but his other problems interfered with it. I don't know.
       At any rate, Todd is a great kid, and we were losing him.
       We ate ice cream that night, and Todd got a banana sticking up between the two globes of ice cream covered in coconut. His bowl was rimmed in red Maraschino cherries, too, and he loved it. That was a very emotional moment for all of us.
       Monday morning at the airport was terrible. Thank God his plane was on time. It was bad enough having breakfast with him for the last time in that tiny restaurant in the airport. We pulled tables together, much to the annoyance of other patrons, but I didn't give a shit. None of us did. I think everybody in our household kissed Todd goodbye on the cheek, and we sent him forth.
       * * *
       The next morning, the kissing goodbye took place in our driveway. Kyle has a rule, which actually makes very good sense, that it's stupid to take people to the airport when they can drive themselves. We never have any idea if ASA ("Always Something Airline"--Jeff's coinage) will be anywhere close to "on time," and you never know if the traveler will actually make his connection in Atlanta. The twenty or thirty bucks you have to pay for airport parking is more than worth a two-hour wait in the terminal by the people who would have to pick up the traveler.
       "Have a safe trip," I said.
       "No. We ain't doing that. We're going to have us a plane crash in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, preferably on the way over," Kyle said. "And, if we actually make it there in one piece, we're going to try to bribe the bus driver into running the bus off the side of a mountain."
       "You shit. I hate you, Kyle," I said.
       Everybody was laughing hard.
       "Get in the damn car and go, before I have to kick your ass," I said.
       That was Tuesday morning, June 5th. Denny and Murray were leaving for Debate Camp at Georgetown University on Sunday, June 10th. They would be gone for a week. It wasn't exactly a vacation, but their boyfriends were both going, too, so they would have a good time. The "camp" had scheduled in plenty of time for them to see Washington, D.C.
       "Babe," Rick said to me that night in bed. His tone of voice let me know he wanted something, and I knew it wasn't more sex.
       "What?" I said.
       "We have to take Pete somewhere, don't you think? He's the only one not going on a trip this summer," Rick said.
       "Where are you thinking we can take him?" I asked.
       "I don't know. I wonder if he's ever been to Disney," he said.
       "I doubt it," I said.
       "Don't you think he ought to go? I mean, isn't that part of being a kid in Florida? We haven't paid him much attention at all, you know? I mean, we've had so much going on with the others that we couldn't, but he's a really sweet kid, Babe," Rick said.
       I chuckled at my man.
       "Babe, you know I'll do whatever you want us to do," I said.
       "I know. We could go Wednesday, stay till Saturday, and be back home when they come home from D.C. on Sunday. We can do that," he said.
       "Why don't you call your mom and Arnie to see if they want to meet us there? They might be able to get away now," I said.
       "That's a great idea," he said. "Kevin, I love you so much."
       "I know. Now turn the light off and go to sleep," I said.
       He elbowed me lightly several times, but he did turn off his light. Then he wrapped his arms around me, and we went to sleep.

(Rick's Perspective)
       The next morning, the three boys who were in the house were at the breakfast room table. It had been a while since we had all been able to fit around that table, and it looked so barren I almost couldn't stand it. Those three are working at pools or beaches or someplace. I don't know what the hell Kevin fixed them up with, but they're all working. Kevin wasn't there, and I hadn't seen him since I had come in from running on the treadmill in the clubhouse. I was totally rank, and I knew it.
       "You guys are leaving next Sunday, right?" I said to Denny and Murray.
       "Right," Denny said. "This is supposedly the best debate camp in the country, too."
       "Is that what the brochure said?" I asked.
       Denny and Murray both laughed.
       "That's what I thought," I said.
       And they laughed some more.
       "Pete, you got you a new job coming up the Wednesday morning after they leave," I said.
       "Okay. What is it?" Pete asked.
       "Tourist. I need you to go with me and Kevin down to Orlando to check out Disney World. Can you go?" I asked.
       I just wish you could have seen the look on that boy's face when I said that.
       "Really?!"
       "Yep. It's going to be hot as hell, but we've got it to do," I said.
       "Are you serious, Rick?" he asked.
       "I'm as serious as a heart attack. Y'all better get going. Kevin'll fire your asses if y'all are late, and then what will we do with you?" I said.
       They laughed, and then they took their plates into the kitchen to put them in the dishwasher. That's a fine bunch of boys right there. Kevin and I are so lucky. I still didn't know where he was, though.
       I went into our bedroom to get dressed for work, and Kevin was still in bed. He was as pale as a ghost, and he had a terrible look on his face.
       "Babe, what's the matter?" I asked.
       I sat down on the bed next to him.
       "I don't know what's wrong. The pain is excruciating, and I can't piss," he said.
       "I'll take you to the emergency room right now. Do you think you can stand up and walk?" I asked.
       "Yeah, I think so," he said. "But you need to take a shower first, okay?"
       "Okay," and I proceeded to take one of the fastest showers of my life.
       God, Almighty. Getting him out of bed hurt him so bad. I thought he was about to pass out on me a couple of times, but I got him dressed. I took his car because it's more comfortable than my SUV, and I got him to the walk-in clinic that is close to us. I prayed every inch of the way.
       Kidney stones. That's what the doctor said he had. The doctor was a young guy, and he didn't even look as old as us.
       "It's extremely painful, but we can help with that. This is a relatively minor problem," the Doc said.
       "So, what do we do about it?" I asked.
       "Well, I can give him medicine to dissolve it, or we can put him in the tub and shoot a laser at it," he said. "Actually, I'd like to refer him to a urologist."
       "That's fine. But what I would like to do is call his father. He's a heart surgeon at Tulane Medical Center. Edward Foley. You ever heard of him?" I asked.
       "Yes," the doctor said.
       I called his cell, and he answered it.
       "Ed, this is Rick. Kevin's sick. He's got a kidney stone," I said. "What should we do?"
       "Where are you?" he asked.
       "We're at a walk-in clinic on the beach," I said.
       "He needs to see a urologist. He's probably in a lot of pain. They may want to do extracorporeal shockwave lithotripsy. That's a fairly common treatment for this. Let me talk to the doctor who's there," he said.
       I handed my phone to the doctor, and he and Ed talked. I didn't pay attention to what the doctor on our end said because I figured I wouldn't understand it, anyway.
       "I guess the trip with Pete is off," I said.
       "Not necessarily. Let's wait and see what they say. Did you tell him about it?" Kevin asked.
       "Yeah, but now I wish I hadn't. I hate to disappoint a kid. He was really excited, Babe," I said.
       "I do, too. What did my dad say to you?"
       "I don't know, Kevin. He said you need to see a urologist, and then he used some words I've never heard before. I guess this guy will know what he's talking about," I said.
       "What's up?" I asked, once the doctor got off the phone.
       "He recommended I put in a catheter, which is actually something I should have thought of. I did my cardiology rotation with your dad, Kevin, but I hope to God he doesn't remember who I am," he said.
       "Why not?" Kevin asked.
       "Well, the catheter thing, for one. I mean, that's basic medicine. I should have had one in you by now," he said.
       "Does that hurt?" Kevin asked.
       "Not the way I do it," he said.
       I liked that guy. He was friendly and seemed to have a dry sense of humor. I was picking up big gaydar vibes, too, by the way.
       He got the equipment, and then he made Kevin take off his underwear. I know Kevin hates doctors, and to be lying there naked in front of this stranger, even as nice as he was, was embarrassing.
       "I won't look," the doctor said.
       "You better look," I said. My opinion of him was changing fast.
       "I think he just got you last, Rick," Kevin said.
       "Very funny. Now let's go. This man's in pain," I said.
       "The stone is right at the top of the urethra. This is probably going to push it back into the bladder," he said. "But maybe not. We'll see."
       He took Kevin's penis into his hand, and I felt a slight stirring down below. He started inserting the tube, and Kevin didn't seem to be in any particular discomfort from that. As soon as it was in place, the plastic bag at the end of the tube started filling up with urine, and the guy was looking at it closely.
       "Well, I'll be damned," he said. "There it is. Dr. Foley was right."
       "What do you mean?" I asked.
       "He said catheterization might make him pass it when I told him where it was, and he just did," the doctor said. "See it?"
       He pointed to a very small thing that looked like it had burrs on it. There were traces of blood in the urine, but it wasn't really bloody piss.
       "That's all it is?" Kevin asked.
       "Yeah. That's it. You don't even need to see a urologist, unless you want to. I recommend you make an appointment with one, but it's not an emergency anymore," the doctor said. "I'd lay off sex for a day or so. Are you cool with that?" He addressed his last comment to me.
       "Of course," I said. "You know about us, don't you?"
       "Well, guys, I'm family, too, so, yeah, I do," he said.
       "What's with the blood in his piss?" I asked.
       "Oh, that's just a trace. If you squirted something like that out of your dick, you'd bleed, too," he said. "In fact, he might even have a little more bleeding. But, unless it doesn't stop, it's normal. His is what we call a 'silent stone,' meaning it had already passed from the kidney to the bladder through the ureter. It didn't hurt him when it did that so that's why it was 'silent.' It only hurt when it was trying to get into the urethra. Are you ready to shake off so I can pull this thing out of you?"
       "Shake off?" Kevin asked.
       "Sorry. Bad joke," he said.
       When we finally got the joke, Kevin and I both laughed.
       "We're planning a trip to Orlando a week from Wednesday. Should we change those plans?" I asked.
       "I would. Do you realize how hot it is there already?" he said.
       "No. I meant for medical reasons," I said.
       "No. Of course not. I rarely cure anybody this quick, but I'd say you're cured," he said.
       He went about extracting the catheter from Kevin.
       "So let's get personal here for a minute. You're gay, right?" I said. "That's what you said."
       "Yep. Just like you," he said.
       "Do you have a boyfriend or partner or anybody?" I asked.
       "Nope. I'm single," he said. "This is only my second week here. I just finished my residency three weeks ago."
       "Look, I like you, and Kevin does, too. We've got a house full of gay boys and a ton of gay friends. Let me give you my card, and maybe you can come over and meet everybody. Four of the kids are in Europe right now, and two are going to Washington, D.C., on Sunday for debate camp. We'll just have the one at home, and that's why we're taking him to Disney World," I said.
       "You have seven gay children? My God," he said.
       "They're foster kids, or former foster kids who still live with us. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen," I said.
       "So, what? Are you two up for canonization or something?" he asked.
       We laughed.
       "It's a very long and complicated story. Much too long for us to tell with me lying here with my dick flapping in the breeze," Kevin said.
       I handed him his underwear.
       "And it's a very nice one, by the way. I love foreskin," he said, in a stage whisper. He was acting gayer than he had before.
       "Do you carry on like this with all your patients?" Kevin asked.
       I knew what he was thinking. Ed Foley would definitely not approve of his bedside manner one bit.
       "Of course not." He was back to acting straight. "Only with attractive, young, gay couples who have a great sense of humor. Please don't say anything to your father about me," he said.
       "I'm going to call him and tell him you cured me," Kevin said.
       "Yeah. That's okay. Do that. Tell him I have healing hands, okay?" he said.
       We laughed.
       "You're going to fit right in with our crowd, if you're interested. It's a bunch of guys around our age, and it cuts across the whole spectrum. Lawyers, engineers, a couple of priests, teachers, businessmen. You name it. Plus, a bunch of kids, gay and straight. No doctors, though," Kevin said.
       "Good. I hate doctors," he said.
       We laughed again.
       "What about George and Sonya. George is an oral surgeon, and Sonya's an orthodontist," I said.
       "That sounds like a straight couple," he said.
       "Yeah, they are. Don't worry, though. Their son is gay, and he lives with us. It'll take a while for you to sort everybody out, but you will. Are we through here?" Kevin asked.
       "Yeah. I am. There are probably thirty people out there in that waiting room waiting for me to see them," he said, "but I'd much rather stay here and talk to you guys."
       "We'd like that, too, but we do both actually work," I said.
       "Oh, really?" he said, like he was fascinated by the concept.
       "I can't wait for the boys and the friends to meet you," I said, chuckling at his foolishness.
       Our medical insurance through Goodson Enterprises has a $300 deductible, and we had already met that because of our physicals in January. We still had to give them some money, though, which we did cheerfully. Kevin walked out of that place pain free, and that's all I cared about.
       I took him home. He hadn't eaten anything for breakfast that morning, so I scrambled him up four eggs and made him a couple of pieces of toast. That would hold him until lunch in a few hours.
       I stayed with him while he ate, but then we both went on into work for the rest of the day.

Chapter 04

(Brian's Perspective)
       We didn't go to work right away when we got home from Europe, and I was glad. I didn't think I was all that tired, but then it hit me. Bam! I slept for twenty hours straight, and I think the others did, too. By Sunday, we were all back to normal, though, and, as usual in the summer, we had a bunch of people over to play.
       I really missed Trixie and Krewe while we were on our trip, and I think they missed me, too. Most of the time they come up to me to say hello and to get some attention, and then they go on about their business. That weekend, though, they wouldn't leave my side. That's what makes me think they missed me.
       I was playing around with them in the clubhouse, going through all the tricks and things that I've taught them. They remembered them well, although I had to work with Krewe a little more than I did with Trixie. Krewe is adult size now, but she's still got a lot of puppy in her. Plus, I don't think she's as smart as Trixie.
       One of the guys who was in the clubhouse was our new friend, Jared Long. He had been Sean's friend in Virginia, and he moved to Emerald Beach to take a job as the recreation director at a prison. I think that's kind of a strange profession, but he evidently likes it.
       "Did you teach them to do all of that?" he asked me.
       "Yeah," I said, sort of chuckling.
       "This is a natural-born dog man right here," Justin said.
       He ran his hand through my hair as a sign of affection, which is something I like. I have pretty much stopped using gel in it like I used to.
       "What does that mean?" Jared asked.
       "It means he knows how to train dogs, and he's good at it," Jus said. "Are you going to be working with Mr. Mack this summer?"
       "Probably not. He said it's too hot to work the dogs outside, and there's no place big enough that's air conditioned," I said.
       "Y'all did it last summer," Justin said.
       "I know, but that's what the man said," I said. "I hate it, too, because I won't make as much money."
       "So you're going to be a bellhop full time?" Justin asked.
       "Yeah. I guess so. If they need me," I said. "I don't know if I'll get forty hours a week, though."
       "Does Kevin know about this?" Jus asked.
       "Yeah. None of us get forty hours, Buddy. Not even Kyle. It's better to have everybody working some than just one or two working full time, don't you think? You're not going to work forty hours, are you?" I asked.
       "No. Now that you mention it. That's okay, though. They paid me for a lot more than I worked during school," he said.
       "I'm interested in the dog training. You worked for somebody doing that?" Jared asked.
       "Yeah. Mr. Mack Mixon. He has a regular job and just works with the dogs on the side," I said. "He might still do some of that on the weekends or after work, when it cools down some. I haven't seen him in a few weeks, so I don't know what's going on with him."
       "We got a grant a few months ago, in partnership with the county humane society, to set up a program called Pen Pals where I work. Have you ever heard of it?" Jared asked.
       "No. What does it do?" I asked.
       "We get dogs from the humane society and train them so they can be adopted. The inmates do the training," he said.
       "Cool," I said.
       "Yeah, it is cool. The inmates learn a skill and have some purpose for being there, and the community gets some well-trained dogs that people can adopt. It's new here, but they've been doing it in Virginia for a while. That's where I first had contact with the program," he said. "The trouble is, none of the inmates know how to train dogs."
       "That's what you need to do. Commit a crime so you can go in and train the dogs," Justin said.
       "Yeah, right," I said. "Lots of good sex, too, probably."
       "Oh, I forgot about that. Never mind. You keep your ass right here where it belongs," Jus said.
       "So you really don't want me to get arrested?" I asked.
       "We've got money in the grant to hire a trainer, but it's not a permanent position. The idea is that the trainer will teach a cadre of prisoners how to train the dogs, and then they will pass along their knowledge once the trainer position expires. I wonder if they'd let me hire you. Would you be interested, Brian?" Jared asked.
       "Is it safe to work there?" Justin asked.
       "Of course it's safe. I work there," Jared said. "One of the guards would be with him at all times. We have lots of employees who aren't guards, and nothing bad ever happens."
       "That might be kind of fun. How long would it be?" I asked.
       "Unfortunately, it's just for six weeks. That's all the money we have," Jared said. "Technically, you'd be working for the humane society, not Corrections Corporation of America. Since we're a private company, we can't get government grants, like the humane society can."
       "I'd do it," I said.
       "Okay. Let me talk to the guy at the humane society tomorrow. You could actually be an answer to a prayer," Jared said.
       * * *
       Later that afternoon I found Kevin. I told him what Jared had said.
       "Do you really want to do that?" Kevin asked.
       "Yes, sir. Kevin, you know I don't plan to go into the hotel business like some of them do," I said.
       "I know, and your not working would give us a chance to increase the hours of some of the others. Philip and Ryan, for instance. Or Wade and Reid. I don't have a problem with your working for Jared, if that's what you want to do. If it turns out you hate it, we'll take you back, Bubba. You'll always have work. Don't worry about that," Kevin said.
       "Well, he doesn't even know if he can hire me, yet," I said. "It's funny, don't you think? How the dogs have helped me make money?"
       "You have a natural talent, and you've earned the money you've made. Speaking of that, Brian, what are your resources at the moment?" Kevin asked.
       "I have money," I said.
       "I know you do. How much?" he asked.
       "I don't know exactly, but it's probably somewhere around forty thousand dollars," I said. "I can find out for you, though."
       "That's okay. I don't need an exact amount. I just want to make sure you're taken care of. You're still my son, you know," he said.
       "I know I am, Big Daddy," I said, and Kevin laughed.
       "Next year, and presumably after that, as well, Gene plans to have all four of you on his payroll. Actually, probably not Kyle, but you, Tim, and Justin. You guys are going to have expenses that you don't have right now," he said.
       "Like what?" I asked.
       "Well, food, for one thing. Utilities. Telephone. Insurance. You're already paying for your gas, and you pay for your entertainment, too. You won't have rent to pay, and, now that I think about it, they won't make y'all pay for the utilities. That's all on one bill for the whole house. You'll be able to make it just fine," he said.
       "Kevin, I know Justin and I are pretty lucky, and don't think we don't appreciate everything this family does for us," I said.
       "I know you appreciate it, Son. You and Justin have also made us very, very proud, you know. I think Rick and I are the lucky ones," Kevin said. "We'll miss you guys."
       When he said that, tears came to my eyes.
       "I know. Let's don't talk about it," Kevin said, and he was misting up, too.
       * * *
       I went into work the next morning with the rest of them. They had to teach me about being a bellhop because I had never done that before. It was pretty easy, actually, and it was fun meeting the people. I didn't realize there's as much room service as there is in that hotel, but that kept us busy, more than helping with luggage did.
       About ten o'clock I was taking a break. I had been declared "trained" by my crack supervisor, Kyle Goodson. I had given Jared my cell number, and the phone rang while we were on break.
       "The guy at the humane society wants to meet you this afternoon. Can you make it?" Jared asked.
       "Sure. Where and what time?" I asked.
       He gave me an address and said that they'd be there until five o'clock. I could go whenever I wanted to.
       "Are you going to train the puppies?" Kyle asked.
       "I hope so. The people at the humane society want to talk to me this afternoon. You're not going to be mad at me, are you?" I asked.
       "Why the hell would I be mad at you?" he asked.
       "Well, you trained me, and all," I said.
       "Let me tell you something, Brian. Except for Tim, you and Justin are the most important people in my life. I can't even imagine you doing something to make me really mad at you, and I mean that," Kyle said.
       "I know that, and I can say the same about you and Tim," I said. "Yesterday Kevin and I were talking about how lucky Justin and I are, and we both almost started crying."
       "Love is kind of weird, isn't it? I can't really pinpoint what it is, but I know what it is, at the same time. Does that make sense?" Kyle asked.
       Kyle and I had never had this kind of conversation before. I know he's a lot deeper person than he pretends to be, and that he feels some things very strongly, such as loyalty to his friends.
       "No, it doesn't make sense, but I know exactly what you mean. I didn't find out what love is until I came here. You always knew, though, from your parents and all," I said.
       "Yeah, but it's not the same thing, I don't think. I think I learned what real love is when I fell in love with Tim. I mean, I always loved my parents, but it's just different. Well, we better get back to work," he said.
       Jeff was at the front desk when I went out to the lobby.
       "How's it going, Brian?" he asked.
       "I just had the most serious conversation with Kyle," I said.
       "Oh, yeah? About what?" Jeff asked.
       "About love and friendship, actually," I said.
       "People don't give Kyle enough credit. He's a much more serious person than most of us think he is," Jeff said.
       "I know that. Everybody thinks Kyle is all about fun and playing, and he is. But I don't think he could be the kind of artist he is if there weren't depth there," I said. "He's a pretty amazing guy."
       Kyle saw us talking and walked over.
       "What are y'all talking about?" he asked.
       "Nothing," I said.
       "Come on. Tell me," he demanded.
       "Kyle, you're not going to like it," Jeff said.
       "Well, what is it? Why won't I like it?" he demanded again.
       "We were talking about you, Kyle, and about the fact that you have depth. And that you're an amazing guy," Jeff said.
       "You're right. I don't like it. I don't want y'all talking about me," he said.
       What he said wasn't funny, but the way he said it was hilarious. Jeff and I cracked up.
       "Y'all are going to piss me off," he said.
       "A little while ago you said you can't imagine me doing anything to really make you mad," I said.
       "I didn't say I was mad at you. I said y'all are going to piss me off. Being mad and being pissed off are two different things. That's why they have separate words for them," he said. "Besides, I'm not really pissed off."
       "We know," Jeff said, and all three of us laughed.
       I went for my interview at the humane society when I got off at three. The man's name was Randy Hammer, and he seemed really nice. We talked for awhile, and I told him about working with Mr. Mack.
       "I know Mack Mixon. Was he your teacher?" he asked.
       "Yes, sir. I've been working for him for over a year," I said.
       "Well, if Mack Mixon lets you work for him, then you've got the job, son. Let's go play with some puppies," he said.
       I spent the next hour or so working with one of the dogs, while Randy watched me.
       "You're good, Brian. Very good. You could make very good money as a dog trainer, son," he said.
       "Yes, sir. I know. I made good money with Mr. Mack," I said.
       "Are you still in high school?" he asked.
       "No, sir. I just graduated. I graduated a year early," I said. "I'm going to Tulane University this year."
       "Well, good for you, but don't ever forget there's a living in dog training," he said. "I can tell you love the dogs, and they take to you easy, too."
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       "And you're polite, too. That's important. You've said the word 'sir' more times this afternoon than my son has in a year," he said.
       Make him say it, I thought, but I didn't say anything.
       I had to fill out some paperwork, and he told me to report there in the morning. He and I would take some dogs out to the work camp, and he would make sure everything was all set at that end.
       "Now remember. You work for the humane society. You don't work for CCA," he said. "By the way. Do you ever do any private training? I get requests for trainer referrals all the time. Mack told me he's taking the summer off, and people are going to be wanting help with their dogs."
       "I think I'm just going to enjoy the summer and not work all the time," I said. "I have a kind of involved home life, and it takes up a lot of time."
       "Not trouble, I hope," he said.
       "Oh, no, sir. It's very happy, in fact, but my parents and my brothers expect me to take part in family life. They don't want me working all the time," I said.
       "Okay. Well, if you change your mind, let me know," he said.
       "I will."
       * * *
       "Did you get the job?" Kyle asked, the second I joined the family in the den.
       "Yep," I said.
       "I'm so mad at you, I could wring your damn neck. After all the time I spent training you today," Kyle said.
       He's a great actor. I knew he wasn't one bit mad at me, but he and I were the only ones who knew it. I decided to play along.
       "Fuck you, Kyle. I'm so goddamn tired of your shit, I could puke," I said.
       His face lit up, but he didn't grin. He knew what I was doing.
       "Yeah? Well, fuck you, Brian. You and the goddamn dogs!" Kyle said.
       "Whoa!! What the fuck's going on here?" Justin asked, all agitated.
       "This is between us, Buddy," I said.
       "Brian, I don't know what happened, Son, but this isn't you," Kevin said.
       "It's more me than you know, Kevin. I'm so sick of this asshole, I could scream. Let's go, Kyle. Outside. You and me. Right now," I said.
       "Let's go. I've been waiting for a chance to stomp your ass, motherfucker," Kyle said.
       We started toward the door. Rick jumped up and blocked the way. I don't know which one of us gave it away. Maybe we both did.
       "Oh, shit! I ain't fucking believing this," Rick said. "Y'all are grounded. Both of you. Go to your rooms right now."
       Kyle and I were laughing our heads off.
       "Is this a Got You Last?" Kevin asked.
       "Yes. You two pricks. I ought to really ground you," Rick said. "No. What I really ought to do is pull both of you over my knee and spank the shit out of you."
       "When?" Kyle asked eagerly, and that made everybody laugh, including Rick.
       "Y'all sit down," Rick said. "Brian, where did that come from? You scared me to death, Bubba."
       "I'm sorry, Rick. I guess we got a little carried away," I said.
       "Brian, you're as good an actor as Kyle is," Rick said. "Did you guys rehearse this or something?"
       "No. It was off the cuff," Kyle said.
       He told them about our conversation of earlier in the day.
       "Guys, Brian inadvertently made a very good point. I don't know if any of you got it, so I'll explain," Kevin said.
       "Somehow I knew you would," Justin said in his deadpan way. That made us laugh.
       "Seriously, think about what happened. Okay? The first words out of Brian's mouth were, 'Fuck you, Kyle.' How many times have you heard Brian say that word?" Kevin asked.
       "He says 'Kyle' all the time," Jus said.
       "Son, I'm trying to make a point, okay?" Kevin said.
       "Sorry," Justin said.
       "See, that's the thing. Brian almost never uses profanity, so when he does, it has a serious and major impact. I'm as guilty as anybody in this room of using the F word, and I'm not putting anybody down for using it. But I want to make the point that profanity loses some of its punch if it's overused," Kevin said.
       "Good fucking point," Justin, Kyle, and Rick said in unison. Well, that cracked everybody up, including Kevin.
       "Shit," Kevin said, and that made us laugh even more.
       "Back to my original question. Did you get the fucking job?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah, I nailed the fucking job," I said. Fun with the F word!
       "So when do you fucking start?" Justin asked in all seriousness.
       Denny and Murray knew what was going on, and they were close to hysterical, they were laughing so hard.
       "I start the fucker tomorrow. We're taking some fucking dogs from the pound up there first thing in the fucking morning," I said.
       "All right. Enough! You've made your point," Kevin said.
       "And what kind of point might that be?" Justin asked, deadpan, of course.
       Kevin laughed.
       "Okay. You've made your fucking point," he said, and we all laughed.
       "You guys are incredible," Murray said.
       He's another one who rarely uses profanity.
       "Say what?" Justin asked.
       "Sorry. You guys are fucking incredible," Murray said, and we all laughed.
       I told them about working with a dog at the animal shelter and about Randy asking if I wanted to do some private training.
       "What'd you tell him?" Justin asked.
       "I told him no, and I sort of blamed it on you guys. I said my parents and my brothers don't want me working all the time. I said that family time is important," I said.
       "I don't know that we've ever said it in so many words, but that's absolutely true, Brian. We don't want you working all the time," Rick said. "You're a major ingredient in this family, Son, and we don't have all that much more time together."
       "You could have gone all day without bringing that up," Justin said.
       "Who's ready for some eats?" Kyle asked.
       * * *
       The next day was really quite interesting. I went to the animal shelter and got there about 7:30. They don't open until nine. Randy and I hadn't talked about a time to meet, and I really didn't know what to do. I decided to leave a note for Randy. I gave him my cell phone number and told him I would be there as soon as he needed me.
       The shelter is in Lynnville, which is about thirty minutes from our house. I didn't think that going home, and then coming back, made much sense. There is a shopping center near the shelter, and the shopping center has a coffee shop. I went in there. There were ten computers, and you could use one for ten bucks an hour. I ordered a fruit drink, paid for an hour's worth of time, and settled in.
       My first move was to check Jeff's blog. He had made a really funny entry the night before about the conversation he and I had had with and about Kyle. The thing about Jeff is, he really isn't all that funny in person. In his writing, though, he's hilarious. I wrote a detailed comment about the scene between Kyle and me the night before, and about Kevin's pronouncements about the F word. I tried to capture how funny it all was, and I think I did a pretty good job of that.
       Next, I went to email. At Jeff's urging, we have all gotten Web-based email accounts so we can use them no matter where we are. We did, in fact, send email to everybody three or four times on our trip, and I saw the wisdom of Jeff's advice. Email accounts have passwords, of course, which are supposed to make them private and secret. Well, we all use the same password, and we all read each other's email routinely. A lot of times we all have the same letters as carbon copies, but, if I don't recognize who sent it, I don't read it on somebody else's account.
       That day we had email from Cherie, from Craig, from Chris Uhle, and from Arnie Jacobs, Rick's stepdad, of all people.
       Cherie's email was really intended for everybody. Little Rob had said his first word, and it was Da-da. How cute is that? She gave us other news about the family, including the fact that Grandma and Grandpa have new back-door neighbors who are - gasp -- gay. Oh, no! Homosexuals in the neighborhood.
       Craig's email was really more intended for Rick and Kyle than for the rest of us. It was all about Rob's first word, of course.
       "Kyle, I can't wait for y'all to get here. That baby's going to have you in a puddle on the floor, Bubba. You mark my words. He looked right at me and said, 'Da-da.' My spine turned to protoplasm, and I started crying. Very happy tears, though. Very happy."
       I got a little misty-eyed when I read that.
       Chris's letter was really to Kyle and Justin. It seems that Mr. Uhle was under the mistaken impression that he is sterile. Turns out, though, he's not. But there was a happy ending, sort of. The girlfriend had a miscarriage.
       "My God, guys. Can you believe what I've turned into?"
       Well, yeah. I can believe it. He has turned into a healthy, horny guy who had better investigate condoms. Or something.
       Arnie's letter was all about what a fabulous time he and Sarah had with Kevin, Rick, and Pete at Disney World.
       "I don't know where you guys get them, but your boys are the best. By the way, as Superintendent of Schools, I've mandated that every middle school and every high school in the district will have a Gay-Straight Alliance. I've also mandated that an administrator, either the principal or an assistant principal, will be the GSA sponsor. This organization will be taken seriously on our campuses. Am I doing my part?"
       Yes, Arnie. You're doing your part, I thought.
       I wrote one letter to all of them. I said a word or two about the contents of each of theirs, although I didn't mention Chris's knocked-up girlfriend, and then I copied and pasted my comment to Jeff's blog into the email. Immediately after I sent it off, I realized they probably read Jeff's blog, too. Oh, well.
       By 8:45 I was on my second juice, and my phone rang. It was Randy. He was at the shelter waiting for me. I shut down the browser, after clearing the cache, the history, and the start menu, and I was out of there with my drink in hand.
       "I'm sorry we didn't coordinate this better," Randy said when I got there.
       "No problem. I spent my time on the Internet," I said.
       There are eight kennels at the work camp, which were built with grant funds, so we took eight dogs. The plan was that two groups of prisoners, a primary handler and at least one secondary handler for each dog, would work in two three-hour periods. One period would be in the morning, and the second period would be in the afternoon. Altogether, I would be working with about thirty-two men each week.
       Jared was there to greet us when we arrived.
       "Hey, Brian," Jared said, as we shook hands. "I read your comment to Jeff's blog, and it's hilarious. Did that really happen?"
       "It happened exactly the way I described it, and it was funny. I wish you could have seen the look on Rick's face when he was trying to stop Kyle and me from going outside. It was really too much. I wish Kyle had been able to get a picture of that," I said.
       "You guys must know each other," one of the guards said, in the Emerald Beach grumble.
       No, we just met. Sheesh! How dumb are you? I thought.
       "Yeah. We're friends," Jared said.
       I thought the training went well. I was a little bit distracted by some of the prisoners. I'll never be unfaithful to Justin, but I've got eyes, just like the next guy. Not every criminal is ugly. Let's just leave it at that.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       Well, summer is rocking on, as summers do. When I was a little boy, I used to think the summer was the longest time of the year. I thought it would never end. Me and Clay used to sit on the back porch for hours every afternoon, it seemed like. He would read a book, and I would color. Color? I guess I was about five or six years old, so I guess that was the reason, but back then the summer seemed so long. The older I've gotten, the shorter the summers have gotten.
       "It's almost the Fourth of July. What are we going to do?" I asked. "Go to New Orleans?"
       "No. They're coming here," Kevin said.
       "So when were you going to tell us this? After they got here?" I asked.
       "It slipped my mind, okay? Now you know," Kevin said.
       "That's a very big day, Kevin. That's numero uno. That's Rob's first birthday," I said.
       "I think we need to hire some dancing girls for him," Justin said.
       We all laughed.
       "Oh, yeah? How about some dancing boys?" I asked.
       "That's true. But you know what? At his age, I don't think he's ready to come out yet," Justin said. "That's a little young. Give him another year."
       Kevin and Rick were grinning their butts off at us, and I knew we were playing the fool. But that's what me and Justin do. Play the fool.
       "We need to come up with a good idea for a present," I said. "Something he can enjoy now and for years to come."
       "How about a puppy?" Brian asked.
       Everybody was thinking.
       "Before you give him a puppy, you need to make sure it's okay with his parents," Kevin said.
       "I know one that would be perfect for him," Brian said. "She's a black Lab, and she's about eight months old. We don't have the papers on her, but I'm sure she has a pedigree. I've been working with her. She's fully house trained, and she knows the basic commands and hand signals. She's a dream. In fact . . . "
       "No, Brian. One's enough. Trixie's your dog, and we love her to death, but no more," Justin said.
       "Okay," Brian said.
       "Let's call 'em," I said.
       They loved the idea of a black Lab puppy, especially one that Brian had already trained. Cherie and Craig said 'yes' to the puppy. Brian called somebody and said he wanted to adopt the puppy. The man he called is his boss, so the guy agreed to meet us at the pound to get the dog right then.
       I wish you could have seen Brian with those dogs. They were all over him. The ones who had been trained at the prison were in a separate pen from the ones who hadn't been, and, of course, the puppy was in the "trained" cage. She wiggled her ass so hard I thought she was going to break it off. She was so happy to see him.
       We had to do some paperwork, and we had to pay some money, too. The puppy had been spayed and given its shots, and you have to pay for that. Brian paid it with a check, but I didn't think that was fair. That was going to be a gift from all of us, and I thought we should all have to pay some toward it. He said we'd work it out later. I'll have to stay on top of that because I don't trust him to make us pay.
       When we got the puppy home, Trixie and Krewe were so cute. At first, they just wanted to smell the puppy. Why dogs' asses smell good to other dogs, I don't know. But they must. And the puppy must have known what was going on. She stood stock still while Trixie and Krewe checked her out. Then she checked them out. Okay. Everybody's got an asshole. That's good. Let's play. And that's what they did.
       We didn't give the new one a name because we thought that was something Craig and Cherie would want to do, but we sure had fun with her. When Trixie and Krewe went in the pool, she was right behind them. She was fun. She's older than Krewe had been when we got her, so Trixie didn't mother her like she had done Krewe. Plus, Brian and the prisoners had worked with her, so she already had pretty good social skills. God Almighty, that little boy is going to love that puppy because she's a totally loveable dog. I'm just so happy we can give her to him, even if he won't know she's from us, yet. In time he'll know, though. His parents will make sure of that.

(Pete's Perspective)
       They took me to Disney World. Just me. By myself. I couldn't believe it. Kevin had a kidney stone attack, or something like that, the morning Rick told me about the trip, but that didn't stop us.
       The week of my trip, Murray and Denny went to Washington on Sunday. They were really excited about going, and I couldn't blame them. I was excited for them, but I was more excited for myself. I was going on a trip with just Kevin and Rick. I know they don't do sex with anybody but each other, but I'd let them do anything they wanted to with me. They're my idols.
       "The Magic Kingdom this afternoon and tonight, all day tomorrow. Then Sea World on Friday. What do you think?" Rick said, once we were in the car driving south.
       "That sounds good," Kevin said.
       "Pete, my mom and stepdad are going to meet us there," Rick said. "You'll like them. They're both real nice."
       "Cool," I said.
       I was just enjoying the trip, looking at the scenery and whatnot. They had decided not to take the Interstate, so we were passing farms and ranches and stuff. We passed orange groves, and there were row after row of trees, just covered with fruit.
       "Are those oranges?" I asked when we came to the first grove.
       "Yeah. Do you see them on the trees? They're loaded," Rick said.
       "Why are they green?" I asked.
       "That's the way they start. They'll turn orange when they mature," Rick said.
       "Pete, when you drive through here in the spring, when the groves are in bloom, the scent is out of this world," Kevin said. "That's reason enough to come to Florida."
       "In south Florida a lot of people plant citrus trees right outside windows of the house for that very reason. It's cool enough for about two weeks to have the windows open, and that's usually when the citrus is in bloom," Rick said. "I think I'll see about planting some orange trees and a lemon or two in our yard. Or maybe in containers so we can bring them in when it freezes."
       "Does it ever freeze down here?" Pete asked.
       "Yes, it does, in this part of the state. When it's going to freeze hard enough to kill the trees, they put out huge pots of fire to warm it up enough so the trees don't freeze," Rick said. "Every once in awhile even that doesn't do any good, and the growers lose their trees. That happened a few years ago, and it was a disaster."
       Rick's parents are Sarah and Arnie Jacobs, and they really are just as nice as Rick had said. They're both school teachers or something, and you can tell how much they really like kids. I noticed Kevin didn't smoke around them, so I didn't either. A lot of grown-ups have problems with kids smoking, and I knew that. Besides, I've cut way down since I’ve been in Emerald Beach.
       Disney World was every bit as fun as I thought it would be, and Sea World was a lot of fun, too. The best thing, though, was I had Kevin and Rick all to myself. Don't get me wrong. I love being around the other guys, especially Kyle and Justin, but they sort of take over when the family is together. I'm kind of on the quiet side anyway, and it's hard to get noticed when those guys start. I know they like me, or at least I think they do, but they're just so strong.
       Much later in the summer, Kevin and Rick took just me shopping for new school clothes. I had been growing, and I needed new jeans and shirts, and, especially, shoes.
       On the way home, Rick said, "You've been dating some, haven't you, Pete?"
       "Yeah. In fact, I guess we're boyfriends," I said.
       "What's his name?" Rick asked.
       "Mario. Mario Gomez," I said.
       "Is he Cuban?" Rick asked.
       "He's Mexican. He's not really white, but he's not black, either," I said.
       "That doesn't matter to you, does it?" Kevin asked.
       "No. Not at all," I said.
       "How old is he?" Kevin asked.
       "He just turned nineteen," I said. "Is that too old?"
       "You're going to be seventeen soon, aren't you?" Kevin asked.
       "Yeah. Later this month. August 17th," I said.
       "No. He's not too much older than you," Rick said. "If he was three years or more older, we might have a problem, but that's okay, Bubba. So, when are you going to bring him around?"
       "Murray and Denny know him," I said.
       "Yeah, but we don't, and we're your parents. Bring him around, okay? We want to meet him," Rick said. "Is he a good boy?"
       "Yes, sir, he's a very good boy," I said. "He treats me real nice. He's very kind, and he's pretty funny, too. You'll like him."
       "Where did you meet him?" Kevin asked.
       "At work. He's a bellhop at the Boardwalk," I said. The Boardwalk is the hotel I work at.
       "Invite him over tomorrow afternoon, okay, Bubba?" Rick said.
       "Okay," I said.
       * * *
       The first thing I did when we got home was call Mario.
       "Did they buy you some cool clothes?" he asked.
       "Yeah, I got some real nice stuff," I said.
       "That's good. I'm glad. When can I see you?" he asked.
       "I don't think tonight. We always go to church on Saturday night, and then we go out to eat," I said.
       "What church do you go to?" he asked.
       "St. Joseph's. It's a Catholic church," I said.
       "I didn't know you're Catholic. That's what I am, too," he said.
       "I'm not, but everybody else is. Well, not everybody, but most of them," I said.
       "What would you do if I showed up at Mass tonight at St. Joseph's?" he asked.
       "I'd be happy to see you. That's what I would do," I said.
       "Would you give me the Kiss of Peace?" he asked.
       I wasn't sure what he was talking about.
       "Well, not in public. I'm really not that out yet," I said.
       "That's part of the Mass, Pedro. At that church they just shake hands, but in a lot of places they really kiss," he said.
       Now I knew what he was talking about, and I had seen straight couples kiss at that part of the service.
       "We'll see," I said.
       That tickled him, and his laughter made me laugh, too.
       Mario did show up at Mass that night. He's really a very good looking boy, and he was all scrubbed and dressed real nice. The rest of us were in shorts and tee shirts, but he had on long khaki pants and a button-up shirt. He grinned when he saw me.
       "Push down," I said to Rick. I was at the end of the bench, and he was to my left.
       He and Kevin pushed down. Kyle, Tim, Justin, and Brian were at Kyle's parents' house, and I don't know where Murray and Denny are. Maybe in Pensacola.
       "Kevin and Rick, this is Mario. My boyfriend I told you about," I whispered.
       Their faces brightened up, and I could tell Mario was making a good impression. They shook hands with him and said they were pleased to meet him. He and I didn't really kiss at the Kiss of Peace time, but I sure wanted to kiss him.
       After Mass, Kevin said, "Mario, we're going to get something to eat. Will you please join us?"
       "Yes, sir. I would like that," Mario said.
       "The usual place?" I asked.
       "Yeah. Are you riding with Mario?" Rick asked.
       "If that's okay," I said.
       "Come here, you," Rick said, and he grabbed me in a kind of headlock hug. "Of course it's okay, Bubba. He's your boyfriend. You're supposed to ride with him. No making out in the restaurant, though, you hear me?"
       I probably turned beet red when he said that. Mario said, "Oh, shucks," and Kevin and Rick laughed hard.
       We had a great time at the restaurant. It was just the four of us at a table, which was totally different from when the whole family was there, and Mario was wonderful. He told stories about moving to the United States from Mexico, first to Austin, Texas, where his daddy went to graduate school, as a very little boy, and then to Florida. The rest of his family lives in Jacksonville, which I hadn't known before that night, and he has two older brothers and an older sister. They all are students at Florida State University in Tallahassee. His oldest brother is married, and he's in medical school at FSU. His parents are educated people, and his dad teaches economics at Jacksonville University. All of that was news to me.
       "What about you, Mario? Are you in college?" Kevin asked.
       "No. I'm sort of the brown sheep of the family," he said.
       "You mean the black sheep?" Rick asked.
       "Well, look at me. Do I look black to you?" he asked.
       Kevin and Rick just about fell off their chairs, they were laughing so hard. I knew they liked him, and that was just fine with me.
       Mario came back to the house with us that night, and the four of us did some swimming. Wade and Reid from next door came over, too, so it was a nice little group. I saw Mario naked for the first time that night, and he is definitely a boy. A big boy, at that. He has a foreskin, like Kevin and Tim, and, I have to admit, seeing him got me a little hard.
       "Can Mario spend the night, Kevin?" I asked.
       "Sure, if you want him to. Which I guess you do, since you're asking. He's a very nice boy, Pete. I think you've done well," Kevin said.
       I grinned.
       Mario has two roommates, who are both girls. One is his cousin, and the other one is -- what? His cousin's girlfriend? Anyway, he didn't have to call anybody or anything to get permission to spend the night.
       "I'm not a virgin, you know," he said, as we were getting into bed.
       "I never thought you were. I'm not, either," I said. "But I want you bad, Mario."
       "I've wanted you for weeks," he said, and that night he got me. And I got him.

Chapter 05

(Kyle's Perspective)
       The Fourth of July was speeding down on us on both rails. I figured we'd go to New Orleans. But no. They were coming to us. That was very cool. I mean, we could put everybody up, we have recreation out the ass, and we have a ton of friends that we wanted to celebrate with.
       The thing is, this Fourth of July, besides being Independence Day, is also the first birthday of our baby, and it's Justin's twentieth birthday. I know it's always going to be that way, but that's a triple whammy. And it's the first one. He is only one year old. I knew he wouldn't know what the hell was going on, but we all would know, okay? And I wanted it to be nice.
       But they all thought it would all just happen magically. It would just occur, without any planning or effort. Things like that always do, don't they? God!
       I figured we'd probably have between sixty and seventy-five people at that thing for dinner. It was going to be festive as hell, I decided, but how do you feed that many people? I'll tell you how you do it. You call Madeline at the hotel. That's how you do it.
       "How many?" she asked.
       "I don't really know. As many as seventy-five," I said. "Maybe eighty-five."
       "How do you want to do this? I think buffet is your only option, Kyle," she said.
       "Yeah. We can't seat that many people at tables without taking up the whole clubhouse," I said. "Buffet is good, I think."
       "How about a mixed grill?" she asked.
       "What do you mean?" I asked.
       "Just all kinds of different meats. Beef, lamb chops, pork chops, sausage. I don't know. Chicken. Shrimp. Lobster."
       "That sounds great," I said. "Let's do that. A mixed grill. That way people can get what they like. What about mashed potatoes? Broccoli casserole. Green salad. I think that's enough," I said.
       "Mashed potatoes with gravy," she said. "Beef gravy. We've got lap trays you can use, and people can just sit anywhere. How about shrimp cocktail for a first course? That can be put all around the place on tables, and people can just pick one up, if they want one. They can eat that like finger food, without forks."
       "Do you know what I wish we could have, instead of the shrimp cocktail? Shrimp remoulade. The chef at the Boardwalk makes the best remoulade sauce I've ever eaten," I said.
       "Kyle. I work at the Laguna, remember? I don't work at the Boardwalk," she said. "Besides, that's a sit-down dish. People can eat shrimp cocktail standing up, if they have to."
       "I know. When I get to be in charge, guess what?" I said.
       "I don't know. What?" she asked.
       "I'm going to make him give me that recipe," I said. "I asked him for it, but he wouldn't give it to me. That bastard."
       She laughed. She's beginning to recognize my bullshit for what it is, and I really like her.
       * * *
       The New Orleans people got here on the afternoon of July 3rd. We could have no more hidden that puppy from Rob than the man in the moon, and the two of them were so cute together. Cherie and Craig had thought about a name for her, and they wanted to name her Beach. I thought that was a perfect name, and right away Brian got busy teaching her her name. Trixie and Krewe were so cool while Brian was working with Beach. It was almost like they understood. I mean, I know they're dumb animals, but they aren't really all that dumb. I don't think so, anyway. I know plenty dumber boys.
       Beach got her name down pretty quick, and so did Rob. 'Be' . . . he called her. And she fucking knew he was calling her, too. Those three dogs played with that little boy all weekend long. It was totally amazing to me. I got a bunch of pictures. Very, very many pictures, in fact. I might have even gotten enough good ones to make another book of pictures. I'd been having some letters and phone calls and emails from them about wanting another book. We'll see.
       The thing about Rob is, he's really good natured. I mean, he cries now and then, but not like some of 'em I've seen. If I go into a restaurant and hear a little kid crying, I turn around and walk out. I don't think anybody loves babies and little kids any more than I do, but I blame the parents. I mean, the kid doesn't know you can't just scream in a place like that, but the parents should know. Take 'em outside when they act up. Make 'em shut up.
       Tuesday night, the night of the 3rd, it was just our immediate family of guys, plus Craig and Rob, out in the pool. Everybody was naked, including the baby. He was having a grand time in that water, but Craig thought he was getting tired. I got out and lay down on the pool deck, with Rob splayed out on my stomach and chest. He doesn't weigh more than a feather, but he was so cute sleeping on me. The three dogs were right there beside us, too. All of a sudden, I felt this hot wetness on my stomach, and I knew just what it was. I didn't care, though. They say that's good luck for a baby to piss on you. I don't know about that, but it's sure good luck to have him.
       Craig put his shorts on and took Rob into the house after a while. The rest of them were in there, talking or watching TV or something. In a few minutes, Cherie came out. The only one out of the water was me. She looked me over pretty good and smiled. That was the first time she had ever seen me fully naked, but I wasn't a bit embarrassed. If I was ever going to have sex with a woman, that was going to be the one. God, I love that girl. And I figure my equipment would probably work with her, too.
       She stripped right down to skin and joined the fun in the water. I got back in, too, and then Craig came out and got back in with us. It was only about 7:30, and it was still plenty light. Right about then Colleen, Jen, Stephanie, and Jessica showed up with Scott and Brady. We introduced them to Cherie and Craig, and they all stripped down to swim, too. Then, Philip and Ryan came over, and they got right in with us. It was quite a show, and we had a good time.
       Around midnight, Kevin said it was time for everybody to go home and go to bed. We had a busy day ahead of us, and we wanted to start early. Scott, Brady, and the four girls said they would be back the next day, and we told them they better be. Kevin made Philip and Ryan spend the night because they were both too drunk to drive home, but they acted like they had planned to do that, anyway.
       We all put clothes on to go inside to go to bed. Why, I don't know. The only lady in there was Grandma, and she's probably seen more naked boys than any of us. There was just something about it, though. They were staying at the condo, again, and they went there until the morning.
       Timmy and I got into bed, and I wrapped my arms around him. I gave him a short kiss on the lips.
       "Good night. I love you," I said, and we went to sleep.
       The next morning I woke up at 6:30. Hell, I had a lot to do. The condo crowd, Townhouse Boys, and our parents were coming for breakfast, for one thing, and I had to get that ready. I wasn't going to cook it fully until they got there, but there's a lot you can do to expedite that before you start cooking. I was trying something brand new: Eggs Benedict. I know you aren't supposed to try new stuff on company, but I figured the only hard parts to that were poaching the eggs and making the hollandaise sauce. And they aren't really all that hard.
       Justin was the first one down.
       "Why ain't you upstairs fucking Brian?" I asked.
       "What makes you think I haven't already?" he said.
       "Happy Birthday, Bubba," I said, and I gave him a kiss on his cheek.
       "Thanks," he said, grinning. He liked that.
       "You ain't a teenager any more," I said.
       "I know. I don't know if I should be glad or sad about that, though," he said. "I guess this is the end of boyhood for me."
       "I think this summer might be the end of boyhood for all four of us, don't you think? Have you thought about what it's going to be like driving away from here?" I asked.
       "Of course I have, you dumb fuck. Stop it. You're going to make me cry," he said.
       "How about if we look at it this way. Boyhood's end, but manhood's beginning," I said.
       "You've been a man for a long time, Kyle," he said.
       "I know, and so have you. I think we all have been," I said. "All four of us."
       "Well, I think we're going to have fun," he said.
       "I think so, too. Let me ask you something. What would you say if I asked Kevin and Rick if we could swap the Land Cruiser for the Celica?" I asked.
       "Why would you want to do that? The Land Cruiser is a much better car, I think," he said.
       "It is, but it's big. I'm thinking about all that on-street parking in New Orleans. I could park the Celica in, maybe, half the space as the Land Cruiser. I think it would just be more practical," I said. "Plus, it's only going to be the four of us."
       "You're probably right about that. But how are we going to get all our shit over there? Won't there be computers and books and shit?" he asked.
       "I've thought about that. Tim and Brian have an orientation and registration at Tulane, and you and I need to register at UNO, too. We're going to need to make a trip," I said. "We can take most of our shit then. Me and Tim in the Land Cruiser with shit; you and Brian in the pickup, with more shit. We don't have furniture to move, thank God. What do you think?" I asked.
       "Yeah. That sounds good to me. When is this thing?" he asked.
       "Orientation at Tulane is on the 16th and 17th of July. You and I can register any time this summer. That's a Monday and Tuesday, by the way," I said. "We can drive over on Sunday, visit with the folks, do our thing at the universities, and come home Wednesday."
       "Kyle, that Celica is nice, and I can understand how it would be more practical for parking and such, but what about when we all want to do something together? You know, with Craig, Cherie, and Rob, and with Grandma and Grandpa? And trips back here with them? Won't the Land Cruiser be better?" Justin asked.
       "I hadn't really thought about that aspect of it," I said.
       "Look, I know you like that Celica. So do I. Why don't you keep the Land Cruiser and just buy yourself a Celica once we get over there. You know you can afford it," he said.
       "I don't want to look like I'm showing off, though," I said.
       "Kyle, you don't show off, son. Me and Brian and Tim'll tell you if you start showing off. Never fear that," he said.
       "Don't say nothing about this conversation to nobody yet, okay?" I said.
       "Okay, Bubba. What the hell are you doing?" he asked.
       "I'm poaching eggs. We're having Eggs Benedict for breakfast, and it calls for poached eggs. In the cookbook, it said to poach them about half way so they can cook the rest of the way under the broiler. The yolk has got to be liquid, too. I dunno. This may be shit, but we're going to have it anyway. I hope it'll be fit to eat," I said.
       I knew it would be fit to eat. I mean, the yolks might be hard cooked, but you can't put that much good stuff on a plate and it not be fit to eat. I am not a great cook, by any means, but that's a lesson I learned a long time ago. If you have good ingredients, it's going to be edible. Unless you burn it or something, which I was definitely not going to do.
       The people from the condo got here about 8:30, and I already had a couple of pitchers of Bloody Marys waiting for them. Once again, we put out the vodka in the bottle so people could pour what they wanted, and I watched ole Pete, Denny, and Murray get themselves a little shot of it. Those boys need to learn how to have a drink, and that was as good a way as any for them to start. Philip and Ryan got their share, too, that's for sure. Those two boys already know how to drink. They don't need any instruction.
       Rob and the three dogs were so cute together. He would start to walk across the room, and Trixie would push him down with her snout. And he would laugh his little ass off. One time he grabbed Trixie by the ear to pull himself up, and I knew that must have hurt her. She just stood there with what I thought of as a smile on her face. I mean, I know dogs can't smile, but that's sure what it looked like. He was laughing and having so much fun, and we were all having fun just watching them.
       My parents came over early for breakfast, too, as did the Townhouse Boys and Tim's parents, and my dad took the floor.
       "Today is our country's two-hundred-and-something birthday and Rob's first birthday. But it's also the twentieth birthday of our honorary son, Justin Davis. Rita, George, Sonya, and I have a little gift for you. We wanted to give it to you now so the focus can all be on Rob tonight. Justin, happy birthday, Bubba," Dad said.
       He handed Justin an envelope, and I knew what it was. Twenty thousand dollars. We had us a little conspiracy going on. He was going to get three checks like that.
       "It turns out we have a little present for Justin, too," Grandpa said. "Congratulations, Bubba, and many happy returns. This is from the four New Orleans people."
       Guess what! Another check for twenty thousand.
       "Well, it turns out that your brothers wanted to give you a gift, too, Jus," Kevin said. It was another twenty thousand.
       Justin started crying. When you see a big ole macho stud like him crying over a card, that's pretty scary.
       "This is too much," Justin said. "Y'all can't give me this much money."
       "Oh, yes we can, and we did," Dad said. "We can't take it back."
       "Mr. Gene, y'all are too good to me. Thank you all soooooo much," he said. "I can't believe this. I think I'm rich."
       "I need help in the kitchen," I said.
       Craig started to stand up to come help.
       "Not you. Sit down," I said. "I need real help. Tim, Justin, Brian. Y'all get in there," I said, and everybody laughed.
       Well, my Eggs Benedict turned out pretty good. We garnished the plates with orange slices and some parsley sprigs, and the presentation was pretty nice. We had hot rolls, of course, cheese grits, and some coffeecake I had made a day or two before. It was a very nice breakfast to start a very important day. Tim, Brian, and Kevin each ate three Eggs Benedict, but Craig, Rick, Justin, Philip, Ryan, and I ate four. Everybody else just ate the two I served, but I knew those Townhouse Boys were just being polite in not asking for more. They polished off the four coffeecakes I had put on the table, so I reckon they got enough to eat.
       "Son, this was excellent," my mama said.
       "I think you're turning into a gourmet chef, Kyle," Sonya said.
       "But we're never going to let him work in a restaurant, are we, Gene?" Rick said.
       "No, sir," Dad said. "If he gets a taste of that . . . "
       "I know," Rick said. "No restaurant work for you, Kyle."
       That wasn't the first time I had heard that, but I still don't know why they said it. The official answer when I had asked before was I wouldn't want to do hotel work if I got into restaurant work, but don't our hotels have nice restaurants? Some of them, at least? They also said restaurant work doesn't go with family life. Isn't that something for me and Tim to work out? I don't get it.
       Murray, Denny, Pete, and Craig cleaned up the kitchen. I tell you what; that Craig is a fine man. He wants to be one of us so bad, he can't stand it. But his tastes lean toward pussy. It just wouldn't work out.
       * * *
       The day was absolutely magnificent. I had bought a little baby life jacket so Rob could go on the boat with us, and he was so cute in that thing. We didn't know about Beach on the boat. I figured she'd go in after somebody, just like Trixie and Krewe had done, so we made them stay on the dock.
       When it was my turn to ski, I held Rob in my arms. He laughed the whole time, and he was so cute. When the run was through, Philip, who was driving the boat, pulled up next to the dock to let me sink down into the water. I set Rob down in the water so he could bob around a little bit, and all three dogs were in that water in an instant. Trixie got her mouth on that life vest so fast it made me dizzy, and the other two helped her get him to shore. It was absolutely unbelievable. Trixie literally picked him up out of the water with her teeth buried in his life vest and walked him to shore.
       Rob was crying because he didn't know what the hell was going on, but everybody else knew. Brian and the rest of us were all over those dogs, praising them and hugging on 'em. The baby wasn't really in trouble 'cause I had him under control, but they didn't know that. They had saved their little boy, and they deserved the praise. Cherie got Rob calmed down in a minute, and he was petting his dogs in no time. They loved it, too. I noticed Beach was licking him.
       "Do you see that?" I asked Brian.
       "Yeah, but I haven't had enough time with her," Brian said.
       I grabbed Brian around the neck, and I licked his cheek. Well, he hadn't shaved that morning, so I got me some stubble tongue. He laughed his ass off.
       "I can see who the next one is I'm going to have to train," he said.
       * * *
       That was one of the best days we have ever had. There's no telling how many people were in and out of our house that day. We spent the whole day in and on the water, although there was always a pool game, a ping pong game, darts, and cards going on in the clubhouse. Some basketball, too, and a few video games.
       Fourth of July in Emerald Beach is like New Year's Eve in other places. People have big house parties, and all their friends and acquaintances drop by. Philip and Ryan's parents all stopped in for a drink and a bite to eat. Skeeter and Stinger McGhee came by about mid-afternoon, and they were both about half drunk. Those boys could still ski, though. They were drunker after a couple of hours, and Kevin made them stay until they sobered up. As it turned out, it ended up being the whole night, but they're such nice guys nobody cared.
       In fact, we had quite a crowd on the floor of the clubhouse that night. Kevin would have been drunk out there with 'em, if he hadn't had a bed in the house. His mama, my mama, and Rick were the only truly sober ones of us, and they wouldn't let anybody leave unless there was a totally sober designated driver in the crowd. Otherwise, they had to spend the night.
       I had bought a shit load of snack food, and by snack food I mean stuff like fried chicken, sub sandwiches, various salads, as well as the usual chips and nuts and shit. I had boiled up two hampers of crabs that I had bought (since we were no longer crabbing for ourselves), and there was corn on the cob, too. We fed people all day long. That night we had the catered food from the hotel, though, and I think everybody really enjoyed that.
       But the best part was the birthday cake for Rob. His cake had to be big 'cause there were a lot of people. I cut him a big hunk of it and put one candle in it. We all got around his high chair and sang "Happy Birthday." He was smiling real cute, looking around at us. I was busy with my camera, of course, trying to get everything.
       Cherie blew out the candle for him and handed him the cake. Well, just like you always see on TV and the movies, he went after that cake with both hands. He had no more idea of what that was all about than Beach did, but he had fun with it. He had that shit everywhere in a matter of a few seconds. I got pictures of every bit of it, too.
       After dinner, people were a lot more sober than they had been before dinner, that's for sure. Grandma and Grandpa took Rob back to the condo, and my parents and Tim's parents went on home, too. It was pretty early -- only about ten o'clock -- but some of the friends left, too. Some of them had been there ten or twelve hours by then, and they were ready to go. Not the kids, though. They all stayed, and we all got naked in the pool.
       All things considered, Independence Day, Justin's birthday, and Rob's birthday were a big success. I personally had a wonderful time, and, from the looks of everybody, they all did, too. The Fourth of July in Emerald Beach. You can't beat it.

(Brian's Perspective)
       Kyle took a whole bunch of pictures on the Fourth of July, mostly of Rob and the dogs. I looked at them with him, and some of them were absolutely stunning.
       "Are you thinking about another book?" I asked.
       "Yeah, I'm thinking about it because they're forcing me to," he said.
       "What do you mean?" I asked.
       "Look at these," he said, and he handed me three letters from his editor. One was actually from the executive editor, and she made no bones about the fact that they expect another book from him, and soon.
       "You've got some great pictures here," I said. "I think you have enough good ones for another book."
       "Will you help me again?" he asked.
       "Of course, I will. Let's pick them out," I said.
       Kyle and I got around the computer in the study, which is the one he always uses, and we put together a CD that has, probably, 200 pictures on it. The book will only have about 75 or 80 pictures, and he has plenty that are wonderful. The editor is going to have a hard time deciding.
       "Are Craig and Cherie okay with Rob being in a book?" I asked.
       "Oh, yeah. They love the idea," he said. "You know, I don't make all that much money on a book. You know that, don't you?"
       "Yeah," I said. "But Kyle, the thing is, how many guys your age have published books?"
       "I don't know. Plenty, maybe. I just don't know," he said. "I guess photography can be a lifetime hobby for me, can't it?"
       "Yeah. Sort of like training dogs for me," I said.
       "Speaking of that, those dogs were fabulous with the baby, weren't they?" he asked.
       Kyle rarely uses Rob's name. He almost always refers to him as "the baby," like he is the only baby in the world, or "our little boy." I don't think he could love Rob any more, even if he had fathered him himself. I just know that eventually Kyle will get him a baby, one way or the other.
       My work at the prison camp is interesting, to say the least. Teaching the guys how to train the dogs, and working with the dogs myself, is fun, but I'm coming into contact with some very, very interesting characters among the inmates.
       They call me "Mr. Brian," which I think is funny. Every one of them is older than I am, although there are some pretty young ones there, too, including a boy that I recognized from the fraternity parties Kyle has hosted at the house.
       "I know you, don't I?" I asked him.
       "Yes, sir. I've been to your house with Kyle and them," he said.
       "You don't have to say 'sir' to me," I said.
       "Yes, sir, he does, Mr. Brian," the guard who overheard us said. "They have to say 'sir' to everybody in authority."
       I started to object and to say that I know this guy, but I also know that's a rule. I ended up keeping my mouth shut with the guard.
       "So what did you do to get in here?" I asked him.
       "I violated my probation, or so they say. But it's a damn lie, Mr. Brian, sir," he said.
       "What were you on probation for?" I asked.
       "Controlled substances, which was another big mistake the first time it happened," he said. The guard had walked away by then.
       "Oh," I said.
       "Brian, let me ask you something," he said. "You're gay, aren't you?"
       "Yes, but you keep that to yourself," I said. He knew I'm gay. He had been to our house.
       "I will, Brian, but here's the thing. I'm so fucking horny I'm about to die. It's been weeks, man. Since you're gay and all, would you, like, . . . you know?" he asked. "Take care of me?"
       "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. That offends me very deeply, and the only reason I'm not going to have them haul your ass away from my training area is you know my brother Kyle. I don't know what they do to people here for sexual harassment, but you just crossed the line. I know I seem meek. Weak, even, but I'm not putting up with that shit. And if you do it again, I'm reporting you. And if you do it again, when you get out of here, my brothers are going to tear you a new asshole," I said.
       I was trembling, I was so angry.
       "Sorry, man. I just figured . . . ," he said. "I mean, Sean did it. Please don't tell Kyle about this, okay? Or Skeeter or any of 'em."
       "Break's over," I said coldly. I was still furious.
       A couple of the guys have real talent, and they happen to be brothers. Or half brothers. Or cousins. Or something. They're two young black men in their late teens or early twenties. I talked to them.
       "You guys seem to really know what you're doing," I said during a break.
       "Yes, sir, we've trained dogs before. Huntin' dogs, mostly," Lamar said.
       "Here?" I asked. "In Emerald Beach?"
       "No, sir. Up in Quincy. Our grandma's boyfriend trains 'em, and he taught us how," Lionel said. "He's Willie Williams. You ever hear of him?"
       "Yes. Mr. Mack Mixon, the man I work for training dogs, talks about him all the time. He's a legend in the Panhandle," I said.
       Willie Williams and Mack Mixon were both trained by the same man, a guy up in Sneads, Florida, when they were kids like me. I have never met Mr. Willie, but Mr. Mack considers him his brother and at least his equal in training dogs.
       "What did you guys do to get in here?" I asked.
       "Long story. A black man can't get a fair trial in Quincy, Florida, Mr. Brian," Lamar said.
       "Was the judge white?" I asked.
       "No, sir, he was black," Lamar said.
       "All-white jury?" I asked.
       "No, sir. All black," Lamar said again.
       "Lamar, don't pull on the man's dick. You know we done it, Bubba. Mr. Brian, we shoplifted," Lionel said. "More than once. We deserve to be here. My brother just will not admit that."
       "So, how long are you guys going to be here?" I asked.
       "Another year. That's if we behave ourselves," Lionel said. "Longer if we don't. Ain't that right, Lamar? We gonna behave ourselves, ain't we?"
       "Fuck you," Lamar said.
       "See, Mr. Brian. That's the attitude I got to put up with," Lionel said. "I'm gonna tell you something. Our grandma raised us better than this, too. It's just our sorry asses that got us in trouble. But I'm fixin' to get out of trouble. In about a year."
       "The reason I asked is, you guys are totally natural with the dogs. You're both dog men. Natural dog men. Would it be all right with y'all if I recommend that y'all become the trainers after I'm gone?" I asked.
       Lamar and Lionel both lit up cigarettes. Lionel offered one to me, but I declined. I've seen Justin and Kyle do the same thing, and I knew what was going on. They were both thinking, and lighting up cigarettes gave them a little extra time to think.
       "What you think?" Lamar asked Lionel.
       "It beats the shit out of road work, that's for damn sure," Lionel said.
       "That's what I was thinking, too," Lamar said.
       "Mr. Brian, if you'd do that, we'd be mighty grateful, sir," Lionel said.
       "I will," I said. "Let's get back to work."
       I really don't know where I'm going to end up in life. My intention is to stay with Justin my whole life, to become a doctor, and to move back to Emerald Beach to practice medicine. The job at that work camp gives me insights into human nature that I didn't even know were possible, and I think I’m really growing as a person because of that. I've had some problems in my life, but I've also had incredibly good luck. The men I teach at that prison camp have all the problems, or more, but none of the luck. I guess it's like a compassion thing. I talk about it with Tim, but I don't even bother talking about it with Justin and Kyle. It isn't that I don't think Justin and Kyle are capable of compassion because I know they are. It's just that their personalities don't lend themselves to talking about that kind of stuff. Tim understands, though.

(Justin's Perspective)
       Having your birthday on the Fourth of July is okay, I guess, but in our family it's really pretty good. I figure there's always going to be a party, whether for me or for the country, and the fact that Rob was born that same day makes it that much better.
       I can't believe the amount of money they gave me. I mean, sixty thousand dollars is obscene. For trailer trash like me? I know people who would go right out and blow the whole damn wad on a fancy car, and then never change the oil in it. Not me, though. I've learned some values, and I want that money to work for me.
       About midday on the Fourth of July, I caught up with Mr. Gene.
       "Mr. Gene, can I talk to you?" I asked.
       "Of course you can, Bubba. Any time. Let's get us a drink and go someplace quiet," he said. That wasn't going to be his first one of the day. Or mine, either.
       "What's on your mind? Investments?" he asked.
       "Yes, sir, that's exactly right," I said.
       "I was going to call you about that tomorrow, Son," he said. "That's a good bit of money you got this morning."
       "Yes, sir. To me it's a fucking fortune," I said.
       "Not yet it ain't, but it can turn into one," he said.
       "What do you recommend I do with it?" I asked.
       "The stock market ain't that good right now," he said. "I'd like to see you buy some property. Rental property," he said.
       "You mean like Kyle did?" I asked.
       "Exactly, Son. You can't afford as much as he got, but you can get you a couple of pieces of property with what you got today. Here's the thing. Kyle's got a steady income every month. You're going to have one, too, but you're going to need your income to live on. He can afford to make his monthly payments to the bank out of his income if he has to, but you're not going to be able to. So I'm thinking maybe two condos. Small ones that aren't all that expensive. It's a small start, Justin, but it's a start, Bubba," he said.
       I got pretty emotional just then.
       "Mr. Gene, you know where I came from," I said.
       "Don't start that, Justin, 'cause you're going to have me in tears. You ain't there any more, and you ain't been there for a long while, Bubba. This is a holiday, and it's also your fucking birthday, so let's celebrate. You're fixing to join the ranks of the Emerald Beach good ole boys, Son. You know Cliff Andrews, don't you? Philip's daddy?" he asked.
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       "We'll make you an appointment with Cliff to get you some property. He might recommend that you wait a few months. People are more prone to sell their stuff in the fall and winter then they are in the summer, when it's renting. Your guys are on the case, though, Bubba, and we'll take care of you," he said.
       I told Kevin and Rick what Mr. Gene and I had talked about.
       "I think that's an excellent idea," Kevin said. "In fact, Rick and I have been talking about buying some, too. Have you done anything about that yet, Babe?"
       "I talked to Cliff informally, and he said what Gene told Justin. The time to buy beach rental property is the off season, not now," Rick said.
       "That makes sense, I guess," Kevin said. "That's actually what Kyle did, isn't it?"
       "Yeah, and that stinker has had those places rented the entire summer, too. He told me the other day that he'll make enough, between Spring Break and the summer rentals, to make all of his payments. He's talking about buying more, too," Rick said.
       "Is he making any money on them, though?" Kevin asked.
       "What do you mean? I just said he was, Babe," Rick said.
       "I know he's making enough to cover his payments, but is he taking anything out of it? Is he making payments and having leftover cash?" Kevin asked.
       "Oh, I see what you mean. Now, that I don't know," Rick said. "But he's making money on the equity. That's for sure. Plus, he'll be able to depreciate the hell out of those places for taxes."
       I kind of knew what he was talking about because of the business course I had taken. It really is a long-term investment, but I look at the sixty thousand as a big part of mine and Brian's future. I really, really feel good about having that money, but I feel even better about the fact that my family thinks enough of me to give it to me. I know they're all rich, but still.
       I wonder how much Rob got. I figure that one is going to be another Kyle, as far as money goes, by the time he's Kyle's age. Kyle is very close-mouthed about his money, even with us, but I know it's because he doesn't want us to think he's bragging. But he's very generous with his money, and I figure about half the twenty thousand I got from my brothers came from him. I know Brian has money, so he might have put up a little bit, and the Townhouse Boys, too, but I would bet my right nut that the others didn't kick in a nickel. They're all too poor, except Tim, and his parents and his partner put up a lot. And really, most of what Tim has is what he earned at his job.
       We're a really strange bunch, that's for sure. We have everything from a multi-millionaire, Kyle, to a boy like Pete, who has to bum packs of cigarettes off me and lunch money off Brian at the end of a month. The thing is, Kevin and Rick have turned a bunch of rag-tag potential ruffians into a loving family. That is amazing to me.
       On July 5th, Mr. Gene called me on my cell to say he had set up an appointment with Mr. Cliff for me to talk to him about rentals. Mr. Cliff basically told me what Mr. Gene had said about waiting to buy, and that was okay with me. He sent me to the bank to meet Mr. Emery Cook. Mr. Emery was just as nice as the rest of 'em, and he fixed me up with some Certificates of Deposit, or CD's, as he called them. To me, a CD was something altogether different, but I had heard of Certificates of Deposit in my class at college.
       "Justin, I am so pleased to see you young boys getting into business here," Mr. Emery said. "Do you know Kyle Goodson?"
       "Yes, sir, he's my brother and my best friend," I said.
       He grinned. "Well, I guess you know Kyle's got some property, too," Mr. Emery said.
       "Yes, sir. I know Mr. Cliff called you for me to come see you, but do you know who called Mr. Cliff for me to see him?" I asked.
       "No, Justin. Cliff didn't say," he said.
       "Mr. Gene called Mr. Cliff," I said.
       "Okay. Gene Goodson. I thought I smelled his scent in all of this. Son, you'd best listen to Gene Goodson when it comes to money. He tends to be very conservative, but we all do. Politically, though, I don't know where Gene really stands. He's a big supporter of Bob Graham for President, and Senator Bob is pretty liberal, if you ask me. He was a hell of a governor, much better than this clown, JEB Bush, we've got in Tallahassee now, but I don't necessarily agree with Senator Bob on everything," Mr. Emery said.
       "Mr. Emery, I've never met any of those people, except Mr. JEB Bush when Kyle and Tim got their medals off him. But I trust Mr. Gene, and he knows JEB and President Bush and all those guys. If he tells me to vote for Bob Graham, I'm afraid I'm going to have to do it," I said.
       "And, son, that's the only thing you can do. Hell, I'll probably vote for Bob Graham, too. I might even chip in a buck or two. It's a good thing for a state to have a native son as President. George Bush and George W. Bush have done a world of good for Texas from the White House, that's for sure. It's about time Florida gets its share. And I doubt seriously that the people of this country will elect three Bushes as President. We'll see, though," he said.
       "Yes, sir, I guess we will," I said.
       I'm not the least bit interested in politics, and I really didn't know what this man was talking about. My gaydar was sounding off a little bit with him, though.
       "Well, Justin, it's been a pleasure meeting you, son, and it'll be a pleasure doing business with you, too."
       He stood up, so I figured we were through.
       "Yes, sir, Justin, Emerald Beach is going to be in good hands in the future, and I know Gene Goodson is steady seeing about that," he said.
       He took my right hand to shake it and put his left hand on my right bicep.
       "It looks like somebody's been working out here," he said.
       "Yes, sir. I work out a good bit," I said.
       "See, I've got to get back to it. I've let myself go, Justin. If you saw me naked, you'd probably turn your head in disgust," he said.
       "Well, uh, . . . " What the hell do you say to something like that?
       He walked me to the door, still shaking my hand and feeling my bicep. He opened the door.
       "Justin, feel free to drop in here anytime, you hear? Clara? Put this young man's name on the 'drop-in' list, please, ma'am," Mr. Emery said.
       "Yes, sir, Mr. Emery," Clara said.
       "Justin, I'm looking forward to seeing a lot more of you, son," Mr. Emery said, and I left.
       I went back to work.
       "Goodson, get over here," I said to Kyle.
       "What?" he asked.
       "I need to talk to you," I said. "I just came from the bank."
       "Did you deposit some of your birthday money in my account?" he asked.
       "Shut up, asshole. Do you know Mr. Emery Cook?" I asked.
       "Yeah. He's my banker. I reckon he's going to be yours, too," Kyle said.
       "I think that man wants to make a deposit . . . but in ME, not in the bank," I said.
       Kyle grinned. "What the hell are you talking about, boy?"
       "Kyle, I think the man is gay," I said.
       "So what if he is? He's married, and he's got two kids. Two girls. I know 'em," Kyle said. "He probably ain't gay."
       "Did he feel you up when you went to see him?" I asked.
       "What?"
       "You heard me, Kyle. Did he feel you up when you went to talk to him?" I asked. I was talking slow for emphasis.
       "No. What did he do to you?" Kyle demanded. He was talking serious.
       "He grabbed my arm like this when we were shaking hands," I said, and I demonstrated on Kyle what Mr. Emery had done. "Then he said, 'Somebody here's been working out.' Then he said he needs to get back to working out and that I would turn my head if I saw him naked. How about that?"
       "Is that it?" he asked.
       "Ain't that enough?" I asked.
       "Justin, maybe the man is gay. I don't know, and I don't care. Okay? But here's the thing, Bubba. You're very good looking, and, uh, your body is very appealing. Did you see if he had a hard-on?" Kyle asked.
       "I looked, but he didn't have one that I could see," I said.
       "Jus, he's a middle-aged man. He's probably a little bit jealous of us. You're twenty years old, and you were there with sixty thousand dollars. He probably didn't have that much when he was thirty, much less twenty. And I know he DAMN sure didn't look like you. But you know what the bottom line is?" Kyle said.
       "What?" I asked.
       "If he gets off tonight thinking about you, what do you care?" Kyle asked.
       I laughed.
       "Kyle, I'm going to say it once again. Don't you ever leave my side because I'm fucked if you ever do. I'll hunt you down and kill you," I said.
       "Yeah, but you'll have to catch me first," Kyle said.
       "I'll damn sure catch you, Kyle. I'll have Trixie on my side," I said.
       Like so many, many times before, he and I just laughed our asses off.

Chapter 06

(Tim's Perspective)
       This summer is a kind of strange time for me. I sort of feel like I'm out of pocket. The main thing I can really remember about summers before is boredom and looking forward to the new school year and being in the next grade. I mean, I'm going to go to college and all, but that'll be a whole new and different system for me. My dad and I moved around a couple of times, but school is basically school, whether it's in Maryland or California or Florida. College will be very different.
       For one thing, we'll be living in New Orleans. Brian, who is absolutely the best friend I've ever had in my life, except for Kyle, and I are going to Tulane University on full academic scholarships. That's really a big-league kind of place, and I'm worried about that. Thank God Brian's going to be at my side because I don't know if I could do it on my own.
       I made a lot of good friends in high school. People I really care about and who care about me. Since our graduation, though, it's like we've gone in all directions. I feel cut off, cut adrift, from everything and everybody I knew in high school. I called my friend Bob Thomas one day to see if he wanted to go to a movie. He had been vice president of the Science Club, and he and I are very good friends. He's working at a restaurant, and he couldn't go. I know Kyle would do anything with me that I wanted him to, but he has his own friends that he does stuff with. I want to do stuff with mine, too. Bob Thomas is as straight as they come, and it has nothing to do with my wanting to date him or anything like that. He's my friend, and I just want to spend some time with him. But I couldn't because he had to work. Bob suggested we meet for lunch, but I couldn't do that because I had to work.
       Another thing I'm noticing this summer is that my friends from school really get into the party scene after work. Most of them work in restaurants or businesses that stay open late, so I have trouble hooking up with them to go out. I'm really not interested in drinking and getting shit-faced drunk like they are, but I would like to go out with them, just to hang out. That isn't happening, though.
       "What's the matter, Baby?" Kyle asked me one afternoon.
       "I don't know. I just feel so cut off from my friends," I said.
       "Y'all can't seem to get together, right?" he said.
       "Yeah. What's this all about?" I asked.
       "I don't know, but it was the same for me last year. It's almost like, once you graduate, you don't have an anchor anymore. I mean, I wanted out of high school in the worst way, but once I was out, I missed it bad," he said. "I think it's normal, Tim. I think it happens to everybody."
       "Is this like negative senioritis, or something?" I asked.
       "I think it's double-negative senioritis," Kyle said. "You'll get over it, though. I did. I'm just worried about what it's going to be for us next year."
       "What do you mean, what it's going to be for us? It's going to be the same. We're going to be together. We're always going to be together, right?" I asked.
       "That's what I'm hoping and praying for, Babe, but . . . you know?"
       "Kyle, I'm not going anywhere, and you know that. Just like I know you're not going anywhere," I said.
       "I know. I'm not, but aren't you scared of the unknown?" he said.
       I didn't say anything right away. In a few seconds, though, I said, "I want you to hold me now. And in a few minutes, I want you to make love to me. Kyle, you're my life. If I lose you, I lose my life," I said.
       He threw his arms and legs around me, and he held me. Then he made love to me. I knew that night that I will never lose him.
       * * *
       Being a bellhop is basically fun, but there are times when it's pretty boring, too. One particular day we had finished all the room service calls that we had, and we had helped a few families check in or out. After that, though, there wasn't anything to do until we got a call. That's the part I hate. We have to hang out in the lobby in case somebody comes in, but there isn't anything to do but read or talk to the other bellhops.
       Jeff was working the desk. I heard the house phone ring, and I half listened to what he said. I could tell from listening that somebody was calling to report a loud noise. I wondered why people bother doing stuff like that, especially during the day. Loud noise that's continuous can get on your nerves, but one loud noise? During the day?
       "Tim, come over here, please," Jeff said.
       I got up to see what he wanted.
       "I just got a call from somebody on the sixth floor complaining about a loud noise. She said it sounded like a firecracker in the room next door. It woke up her baby, so she's pissed off. Would you go up there and see what's going on? It's room 632," he said. "Take Kyle with you."
       "Okay. Room 632?" I asked.
       "Do you want me to write it down for you?" Jeff asked, teasing me.
       "Very funny," I said, and he and I chuckled.
       Kyle was outside talking to the valet parkers, but I got him inside.
       "Jeff wants us to go check on a loud noise in room 632," I said.
       "What is it? Moaning?" he asked. "It's probably people having sex. Maybe they'll let us watch."
       "Maybe so, but I think it was a firecracker. That's what Jeff said the caller said," I told him.
       "Shit, that ain't no fun," he said.
       We got to the room, but we didn't hear any noise at all coming through the door. We stood there for a few seconds, and a lady stuck her head out of the room next door.
       "Did you come to check on the noise?" she asked. "I just called it in."
       "Yes, ma'am," I said. "You said you thought it was a firecracker?"
       "That's what it sounded like. A firecracker or a gunshot. Whoever's in there tied one on last night, and they played the TV way too loud," she said. She was definitely from Alabama.
       "Let's see what's going on," Kyle said, and he knocked on the door.
       There was no response, so he knocked again. Again, there was no response. He put his ear up to the door.
       "I don't hear water running, so he's not in the shower," he said. "Do you think maybe he left?"
       "I'm sure not," the lady said. "I would have heard him leave."
       "Well, he's not making any noise now, so let's just leave it be," Kyle said. "But please call if you hear the noise again, okay?"
       "I will, boys," the lady said. "Thanks for coming up. I'm up here with a sick child. Why does one of them always have to get sick on vacation?"
       "I'm sorry the child is sick," Kyle said. "Do you need anything from the drugstore? 'Cause I can get it for you, if you do."
       "Thanks, but we're going to take him to the walk-in clinic as soon as my husband and my other son get back," she said. "I know what it is. It's an ear infection."
       "How old is he?" Kyle asked.
       "He's two. Do you have children?" she asked.
       "No, ma'am, not yet. I've got a baby nephew that just turned one, though. We gave him a puppy for his birthday," Kyle said.
       "A puppy!? My God, that's all I would need. They're as bad as a baby to look after," she said.
       "She was already house broke," Kyle said. "My brother trained her."
       Just then the baby started crying, and the lady told us thanks. She said she had to go.
       In about an hour, that same nice lady on the sixth floor called in a room service order. It wasn't for food, though. She wanted to borrow a heating pad. We actually keep stuff like that on hand, so I took one up to her. She gave me a five-dollar tip, which was way more than I expected.
       When I was leaving, the housekeeper was just opening the door to room 632. We exchanged greetings, and I started down the hall to the elevators. All of a sudden, I heard a scream. I turned around and rushed down to 632. The door was open, so I walked in. What I saw was a horror. There was blood, and what looked like chunks of flesh or something, splattered everywhere. The housekeeping lady was still screaming. I walked around the bed, and there, on the floor, was a naked man with a lot of his head blown off.
       I gagged at the sight, and I almost lost my breakfast. It didn't smell bad, except that the guy had shit himself, but the sight was ghastly.
       "Get out of here," I said to the housekeeper.
       She didn't move, so I gently guided her into the hall. I went back in and called the front desk. It rang and rang and rang.
       Finally, "Front desk." It was Kyle's voice.
       "Where's Jeff?" I asked.
       "Iono," he said. "I think he and Justin are in the back, jerking off."
       "Kyle, get somebody up here to 632 right away, and call 9-1-1. The man in here shot himself in the head," I said.
       "Was that the noise?" he asked.
       "Yeah. It must have been. Now get somebody. Get Mr. Rooney," I said.
       "I'm coming up," Kyle said.
       I figured he'd want in on this.
       "Fine, but get a boss or somebody. Hell, get Chuck, if you can't find Rooney," I said.
       "Is he dead?" Kyle asked.
       "I think so. If he's not dead yet, he doesn't have much left in him. But, yeah, I think he's dead," I said.
       "Ten-four," Kyle said. "I'm on my way."
       It was certainly not a time to laugh, but hearing him say that the way he did made me chuckle.
       In about two minutes, Kyle and Chuck were at the room, both breathing hard.
       "You couldn't find Mr. Rooney?" I asked.
       "No, but I didn't look hard," Kyle said.
       He took out his cell phone and punched in 9-1-1. He told the dispatcher what was going on, and she must have said they'd have an ambulance and a police cruiser on their way. Then he punched in Kevin's number.
       "Kevin, get over here, pronto," he said. "There's a stiff in room 632."
       Pause.
       He let out a sigh of exasperation.
       "No, I ain't kidding. I swear to God, to Jesus, to all of 'em. On my Eagle honor. Get over here," he said.
       Pause.
       "No, but Chuck is. Do you want to talk to him?"
       Pause.
       "He wants to talk to you," he said, handing the phone to Chuck.
       "Hi, Kevin. He's not joking, Bubba. It's a mess. I almost puked when I saw it," Chuck said.
       Pause.
       "Yeah, he called 9-1-1, after he ran my ass up six flights of stairs. I thought I was going to need the ambulance myself for a heart attack."
       Pause.
       "Right now, it's me, Tim, and Kyle. One of the housekeepers is in the hall, in hysterics. I think a few guests might be gathering, too. I don't know. I shut the door when we came in," Chuck said.
       Pause.
       "Okay. I can handle this, Kev. You don't really need to come, unless you want to. Jack Rooney's off today, so I'm MOD," Chuck said.
       Pause.
       "Okay. See you later, Bubba," Chuck said. Then he hung up.
       "He ain't coming?" Kyle asked, slightly panicked.
       "He can't. He's got a lunch meeting or something," Chuck said. "We can handle it."
       "Yeah. He's got a lunch meeting, all right. To fuck Rick. That's what he's got," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, don't be disrespectful," Chuck said. "It's really not that big a deal for us to handle. This isn't the first time we've had a suicide in this hotel. I know what to do."
       "Nobody told me about any other suicides," Kyle said.
       Chuck put his hands on Kyle's shoulders.
       "Look, Kyle, calm down. You're pretty worked up right now. Take some deep breaths, okay?" Chuck said. I had never really thought of Chuck as a gentle person, but he was very gentle with Kyle.
       "I know. I gotta get a grip on myself," he said. Then, in a few seconds, "Okay. I'm okay now. I'll go outside and wait for the ambulance."
       "Good man," Chuck said. "Ask Jeff to come up here, too, would you please?"
       "Okay," Kyle said.
       I went down to the lobby with my boy. He stopped at the desk and told Jeff what was going on. Then we went outside under the covered entrance, and it was hot as hell. In just a few minutes the ambulance drove up, followed by a police car. We took them up to room 632.
       One of the EMT's from the ambulance checked the guy's heart with a stethoscope. Then he let the second one check him the same way. It was pretty clear the guy was dead. They had brought a body bag and a gurney with them, and they got the guy into the body bag and onto the gurney.
       The policemen collected up the revolver, no doubt for evidence to rule out a homicide, and they got the man's wallet, rental car papers, and some other stuff.
       We watched that procedure, and then they left, saying they'd take care of everything. Kyle started rummaging around on the desk. There was a laptop computer on the desk, and he sat down at that and started a search for a file. I was surprised the police hadn't taken that, too.
       "What are you doing?" Chuck asked. I could tell he was starting to get a little annoyed with Kyle.
       "I'm looking for a suicide note," Kyle said.
       "Oh," Jeff said. "Good thinking. We should have thought of that."
       Kyle ran a search by today's date, yesterday's date, and the date of the day before that.
       "Here it is. Day before yesterday," Kyle said.
       It was a Microsoft Word file, and it was definitely a letter. Kyle read it from the screen.

   Dear Connie,
           What I'm going to do has nothing to do with you or the boys. Adam and I have been lovers since our senior year of high school, only he had the balls to admit he's gay. I didn't. Please don't think I've never had any fondness for you because I have. I was, and still am, very fond of you. And, of course, I love our sons, Adam and Micah. I've checked and double checked my life insurance policy, and suicide is covered. You and the boys should be fine, financially. I know it will be hard on you and them, but they'll get over it quickly. I sincerely hope you do, too.
                                                       Danny

       "Whoa!" Jeff said. "You hear so much about gay kids committing suicide, but evidently gay adults do it, too."
       "Don't you wish you knew what led up to this?" Chuck asked.
       "For sure, Bubba," Jeff said. "I guess we need to get this room cleaned up right away."
       "Gentlemen, not just yet, okay?"
       The voice was a man standing at the doorway. There was another man right behind him, and they both had on coats and ties. I bet they were hot outside in those outfits.
       "I beg your pardon," Chuck said.
       It turned out they were detectives. That room was a crime scene, and it had to be thoroughly investigated. We knew it was a suicide, but they didn't. It could have been a murder, and the note could have been written by somebody other than Danny.
       "The uniforms should have gotten this computer," one of the detectives said. "That's sloppy work."
       "Yeah," the other one said. "Have you guys been fooling with it?"
       "We did a search for a suicide note, and we found one," Kyle said. "It's on the screen."
       "Thanks, guys. If you don't mind, my partner and I need to go over the room, so if you'll excuse us . . . "
       "Let's go, guys," Chuck said, and we left.
       That night in the den at home, we talked about what happened that day. The four Townhouse Boys were over, and Kyle slapped together a tray of cold cuts for sandwiches.
       "Brian, I wish you had been there," I said. "It was sort of amazing."
       "I wish I had been there, too," Brian said.
       "I wish I had been there," Justin said.
       "Where the hell were you, anyway?" Kyle asked Justin.
       "Did you check the schedule, Kyle? Jeff and I share one job, and it was my day to work the second half of the shift. Don't get on my case, 'cause I'll have to kill you, if you do," Justin said.
       There was no laughter. Only silence.
       "Shit, that was the wrong fucking thing to say, wasn't it?" Justin said.
       He was so cute in the way he said that, that we all laughed.
       "Why is it that being gay is so hard for some people?" Kyle asked.
       "I think it's a matter of support, Son," Kevin said. "We all have it good. We support one another. We love one another. We understand one another. Our parents do the same thing. Hell, even our minister does. But there are a lot of guys out there who don't have what we have. I hope you boys will get active in campus organizations at your colleges that support gays and lesbians."
       "I guess the support really does matter. That's one reason I'm scared to death of college," Kyle said. "Here I've got a big, thick net under me, but there it's going to be mighty thin."
       "Kyle, what are you talking about, man?" Rick said. "You're going to have your grandparents; your brother and sister-in-law; Seth and Curt, and Seth's parents; the Smyth boys down the street. And you'll always have us."
       "I hadn't really thought about all that," Kyle said. "And I'll have these guys," he said, indicating us.
       "Exactly," Rick said.
       "But here, everybody knows me, and everybody knows I'm gay. They just don't seem to care. A big city's different. It's just scary to me. And a big university, like UNO. Emerald Coast is a small college. Six thousand students, if that. But UNO? That's big," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, you're going to do just fine," Rick said.
       "I hope. Of course, I'm only going to be there two years," he said.
       "What?!" Brian and I said in unison.
       "Two years at UNO. Not New Orleans. I'm staying there as long as y'all are there," he said.
       "What are you and Justin going to do during all those years we're in school and you're not?" I asked.
       "We're going to get jobs. What do you think we're going to do? Shoot pool all day?" he asked. "Well, we might do that some days."
       "Why don't you get a master's degree? A Ph.D., even?" Kevin asked.
       "Hey, that's it. I'll get two of each," Kyle said. "Shit, if I get a B.S. degree, I'm going to be lucky. That's all my daddy's got, and that's all y'all got, too, ain't it?"
       "Yeah," Rick said.
       "Kevin, I know you were teasing me, but that ain't even funny. Me? A master's degree? Shit. I want a snack" Kyle said.
       He came back in with a tray of crackers, it looked like. Justin popped one in his mouth.
       "Damn. This is very good. What is it?" Justin asked.
       "What does it look like? And taste like?" Kyle asked.
       "Saltine crackers. I don't know," Justin said.
       "You take Saltines and drop a little shredded cheddar cheese on top. You pop 'em in the microwave for less than a minute, till the cheese melts. Then you top 'em with peanut butter. That's all that is," Kyle said.
       "Well, these are good," Justin said. "You need to make these again."
       "Well, you could make 'em. There ain't nothing to it. It's just like I said," Kyle said.
       "Yeah, but you're the snack master, Kyle. You got to make the snacks," Justin said.
       "Shit. I guess my whole life is just spread out in front of me. I can see my obituary now. 'Snack Master Passes,'" Kyle said. We laughed.
       "I reckon so, Kyle. Pass me some more of those things," Justin said.

(Kevin's Perspective)
       The events of the day before really bothered me. Not that we haven't had suicides in our hotels. We have those from time to time so we're pretty used to dealing with them. What bothered me was that the boys had found the suicide note. It implied that the guy had killed himself because he was gay.
       At this point we have seven young gay men in our care. I figure the Big Four are comfortable enough with who they are for that not to be a problem, but I wonder about Denny, Murray, and Pete.
       One of the things Rick and I have tried to do is to educate the boys about what it means to be homosexual. Mostly what they have all wanted to know about is sex, of course, which is natural for any adolescent, gay or straight. But there is a huge body of knowledge out there about homosexuality that has nothing to do with what's the best angle to rub the prostate and similar sex-related issues. The Internet, and specifically the World Wide Web, is a treasure trove of information, so I spent several hours that day surfing the Web for information that might be interesting and helpful to the boys in understanding their sexual orientation. I have the luxury of being able to do that without anybody getting on my case about it.
       "Has everybody gotten something to eat?" I asked. We were all in the den, as usual.
       They all said they had, and, indeed, several of us had rather impressive "snacks" in front of us. Kyle had gone to his friends' produce stand and had picked up some wonderful watermelons. We had spread newspaper on the floor and the coffee table to catch the seeds and droppings from the melons, and we were going to town on those things. The watermelons were room temperature, which, to my mind, is the only way to eat them. A lot of people like them cold, but chilling a melon makes it lose half its sweetness.
       "I want us to talk about the suicide yesterday some more," I said.
       "What's there to say?" Kyle asked.
       "Well, not much about the suicide itself, but I want to talk about the reason for it. That the guy was gay. That's what I picked up from the letter. He killed himself because he was gay," I said.
       Nobody commented.
       "Kyle, you asked the question last night, 'Why is it that being gay is so hard for some people?' That is one of the best questions I've heard in a long time, and it stuck in my mind all day today. Why DO some people have so much trouble accepting that they're gay? I did some research today, and I want us to talk about it because I think it's important," I said.
       Again, no comment.
       "We talked about this last night, Kevin. It's because they don't have support," Kyle said.
       "Yeah, but it's a lot more than that," I said. "Kyle, if you had never come out to your parents, would you have had support?"
       "I dunno. Probably not. They wouldn't have known, so they wouldn't have given me any special support," he said.
       "Guys, I did some research today on the process of coming out. Coming out has been studied by psychologists, sociologists, anthropologists, ethnographers, and a lot of other people. Scholars. College professors and researchers," I said.
       "For real?" Kyle asked.
       "He just said it, Kyle. Don't you believe Kevin?" Rick asked.
       "Of course I believe Kevin. I just said that because that's what I say when I'm . . . Oh, fuck you, you asshole," Kyle said. Rick had gotten him last, and we laughed.
       "May I continue?" I asked.
       "Sorry, Babe. I just couldn't resist," Rick said.
       "The man killed himself yesterday because he couldn't come out. Or that's what he implied, at least. So I got to wondering, What psychological and sociological processes go on when somebody comes out as being gay or lesbian? I took to the Internet, and I found some good stuff about it," I said.
       "What'd you find out?" Rick asked.
       "I found out there are a bunch of theories about it. One guy even did a research study on the relationship between coming out and the Internet. This is a big deal, guys," I said.
       "I guess the Internet has changed a lot of things," Brian said. "It sure was an important part of my coming out, or my being thrust out, I guess you'd say."
       "Yeah, we know, Bri," I said. "I came across several articles that discussed a theory by a woman, I guess, named Vivienne Cass. She wrote it up for the Journal of Homosexuality, which I had never heard of. It was back in 1979, so it's old. But even the most recent things talk about her theory, so it must still be accepted."
       "Vivienne sounds like a woman to me," Rick said.
       "Yeah, she probably is. Anyway, she said that people go through six stages of coming out, or, more precisely, adopting a homosexual identity," I said.
       "What does that mean? 'Adopting a homosexual identity?'" Tim asked.
       "A lot of people think that coming out is just announcing to everybody that you're gay. Being gay is your sexual identity, and you can't announce that to the world unless you've gone through several stages before that to get to that point," I said.
       "This is interesting," Denny said. "Keep on."
       "Well, stage one is feeling different. Did any of you guys feel different before you were aware of sex?" I asked.
       "I can't ever remember NOT feeling different," Tim said.
       "Me, either," Brian added.
       "The first feeling I can remember is feeling different," Justin said. "Shit, I must have been five or six years old. That's probably too young, but I really did feel different back then."
       "It's not too young at all, Jus. I felt different when I was five years old," I said.
       "Me, too," Rick said. "I haven't thought about this in years, but I really did feel different, even that young. I couldn't put it in words, exactly, but I knew I was different."
       Kyle didn't say anything, but the look on his face let me know he had felt different, too.
       "Phase two is a feeling of confusion and fear that you might not be like everybody else. Like the heterosexuals, that is. You might have thought, Well, maybe this is temporary. Maybe I'm bisexual. Maybe it's a phase I'm going through. Maybe I'm just attracted to this one person, but I'll get over it. This is just a crush, and it will pass," I said.
       "That lady got it right on target for me," Kyle said. "My crush was Philip Andrews, but I just knew he was not interested in me that way. Turns out, now, he's gay, too. Who knew?"
       "I had many crushes in middle school," Murray said. "And I really thought I would get over it, too."
       "Mine lasted throughout middle school, high school, and college, too," Rick said. My friend Jason."
       "We need to get Jason up here to visit us, Babe," I said.
       "I know. We will," Rick said.
       "In phase three, the person says, Yeah, I'm probably gay. But he or she isn't willing to make that public to anybody. It's kind of like personal acceptance but not public announcement," I said.
       "Been there," Justin said.
       "Me, too," Kyle agreed.
       "In the fourth phase, you become more comfortable accepting yourself as gay, and you're willing to tell very highly selected people. Like a brother, in my case, or a best friend, in Rick's case," I said.
       "Or parents, in my case," Kyle said.
       "Mine, too," Tim said.
       "Or your grandmother, in my case," Murray said.
       "Apparently, coming out to parents is a really big issue for a lot of people. Sometimes, the parents are the first ones people tell; sometimes they're the last ones," I said. "I guess it depends on your relationship with your parents and their general feelings about homosexuality. At any rate, though, that's the big hurdle. Parents."
       "Or sometimes you don't really have to tell them because they already know," Rick said. "My mom did."
       "My parents did, too," I said.
       "I don't know if mine knew or not, but they sure acted like it was the most normal thing in the world," Kyle said.
       "You guys didn't get kicked out, though, like I did," Brian said. "That's had an effect on me ever since."
       "How so, Bubba?" Rick asked.
       "It's made me work harder so I'd be not just accepted, but welcomed, for one thing," Brian said.
       "What do you mean?" Justin asked. The concern and compassion and love for Brian was dripping off his tongue.
       "Just what I said, Buddy. When you're rejected like I was, you can do one of two things. You can consider yourself a reject and give up, or you can fight to be number one. I chose to fight. It was a conscious choice, and I'm glad I made it," Brian said.
       "Whoa!" Kyle said. "How many more phases you got, Kevin, 'cause we're fixing to need to get into the ice cream pretty damn quick. This is heavy stuff."
       "Two more, and I'll make it quick. In phase five, people are willing to come out in public. To everybody. I think most of us have gotten to that phase," I said. "And phase six is the complete and total acceptance of yourself as gay, without any pain or complication or regret. Some of us are there, too."
       "I'm probably still at phase four," Denny said. "Borderline five, maybe. But you know, I'm sort of at six, too."
       "Denny, this is a theory. The author even says there's overlap, jumping ahead, going back. But I liked it because it kind of helped me understand my own arrival at where I am today," I said. "The other two major theories of coming out are very similar, with only minor differences."
       "Babe, you said some guy was researching how the Internet is involved in people coming out?" Rick asked.
       "Yeah. I read a proposal for a study. I didn't read the actual study itself because I don't think it's been done yet. But it stands to reason to me that the websites and stories and chatrooms and emails and instant messaging are all making it easier for people to come out. And they seem to be doing it younger and younger," I said. "The experts are saying that's a good thing because it's giving gay kids a longer time to go through the normal developmental pattern that straight kids go through in forming relationships. I had my first gay relationship when I was twenty-one years old. Some of you all were fourteen."
       "Who was it?" Justin asked.
       "It was me, asshole, and he was my first one, too," Rick said.
       "I knew that, Jus," Kyle said.
       "I knew it, too, Kyle. Shut up," Justin said, and we all laughed.
       "But aren't they exposing themselves to more opportunities for harassment by coming out so young?" Rick asked.
       "I'm sure in some cases they are, Babe, but the opposite might be true, too. I mean, if you have 200 out kids in a school of 2,000, won't the bullies be more reluctant to pick on them than if there are, say, five out kids in the school? Isn't there strength in numbers?" I asked.
       "That's the way it was at Beachside when I was there," Kyle said. "It ain't cool to be a homophobe at that place. At the college, it ain't even an issue. Look at me and Beta Rho. I mean, I was fully out, and they sought me out to join. I hadn't even signed up for rush, but they didn't care. Those boys all knew me, or knew of me, and they still came after me to join. And not a one of them had a problem coming over here for parties. I think things are changing for us. I really do.
       "Kevin, I didn't think this discussion tonight was going to interest me in the least, but it did, Bubba. Thank you. I never knew people do research on stuff like this, and it was damn interesting. I reckon I'm going to have to spend me a little bit more time on the Internet, learning about myself."
       "Guys, one of the themes in all the stuff I read is that straight kids don't have to come out. Everybody assumes that a person is straight, and society has a whole set of expectations for straight kids that they just fall in line with naturally. I can remember going to parties in high school and college, and seeing straight couples making out. I even saw some have orgasms, right there in front of everybody. I never saw two guys making out, even though I know there were some gay couples at those things," I said.
       "Maybe the gay guys had more self-respect than the straight couples," Justin said.
       "Maybe so, Buddy, but they might also have been afraid," Brian said. "You and I don't make out at parties. We're making progress, but I'm not sure we're that far along around here yet."
       "True," Kyle said.
       There was a lull in the conversation.
       "Where's the ice cream?" Justin demanded.
       "I reckon it's in the freezer. That's where it was the last time I saw it," Kyle said.
       "Well, get your ass in there and get it out here," Justin said.
       "My ass? What's wrong with your ass?" Kyle asked.
       "You're the snack master," Justin said.
       "Yeah, but you're the snack slave. Let's go," Kyle said.
       We had our usual huge bowls of ice cream, with all the trimmings. Nobody got an upright banana that night, but I think we all felt good.
       "Kevin, those studies are good to know about, Bubba. That lady you told us about nailed me, that's for sure. It was like she was reading my life. Is there any way you can type up a little page of notes on this for us to have. I'm telling you what. Five or six guys have wanted to talk to me because they think they might be gay. If I had known any of this, I sure could have made 'em feel better.
       "I know a lot of people don't think being gay is normal, but it is normal. For gay people. And there's a normal process you go through, and we pretty much proved tonight that it's the same, or more or less the same, for all of us," Kyle said.
       "I'll be happy to write that up, Kyle," I said. "And you're right. It is pretty much the same for all of us. It takes longer for some than it does for others, but the sequence is pretty much the same. Having gay friends is important, too, to self-acceptance. I know you have a lot of straight friends, but you have a lot of gay friends, too. That's one place where the Internet can play a big part. Think about guys in rural areas or real small towns, where there just aren't a lot of gays. They're there, of course, but there just aren't that many because there aren't that many people. And they're probably reluctant to come out. An individual guy might just not know any gay people in his hometown. But now that the whole world can be everybody's hometown through the Internet, it's possible for anybody to have gay friends. And lots of them."
       "I probably need to spend more time on line," Kyle said. "I could probably be helping some boys with that."
       "But that's not really you, Babe," Tim said. "Your thing is face-to-face. Brian, Jeff, and I are more the Internet types. Just keep being yourself, Kyle. You're doing good in ways you don't even know."
       "I don't see myself as an apostle of gaydom," Kyle said. "I just see myself as an ordinary guy."
       "Exactly," I said.

Chapter 07

(Rick's Perspective)
       Kevin has said more than once that we need to get my friend Jason to visit us, and I figured I'd give that a shot. I knew he was living with a girl and that he had been for a couple of years. I hadn't spoken to him in several years, but I had kept up with him through our parents. His mom would tell my mom about him, and she would pass it on to me. My mom would tell his mom about me, and she would pass it on to him. It's a pretty dysfunctional relationship, but that's the way we've always been. Our phone conversations as kids never lasted more than a couple of minutes, and they were always to make plans to get together. We did our talking face to face.
       I had a crush on Jason in middle school and high school that at times was overwhelming to me, but it never materialized into anything physical. The summer after high school graduation, I finally came out to him. He was the first one.
       We were staying at a cottage on an island off Sarasota. We had just graduated from high school. I was going to Florida State in a couple of months, and he was going to the University of Florida. It was a late afternoon. The sea breeze had kicked in, and it was very pleasant where we were, on the back porch of that cottage. We were both stretched out on gliders.
       "Jason, there's something important I want to tell you," I said. My voice sounded nervous, I'm sure, because I was nervous.
       "You don't have to tell me anything, Rick," he said.
       "Yes, I do, and this is very difficult for me," I said.
       "You're going to tell me you're gay, right? And that you have a crush on me, right?" Jason said.
       I was stunned. I was totally taken aback. I couldn't speak.
       "You knew?" I asked, after awhile.
       "I've known since we were in seventh grade, and it's been a real struggle for me. I love you, too, Rick. I love you way more than I love my dumbass brother, and I've wanted to love you THAT way, too. But I don't, Rick. I can't, man," he said, and he started to cry. "I've tried to in my mind, and I just can't."
       I got up and got on the glider with him. I hugged him to me. In a few seconds, I got hard.
       "You have a hard-on, don't you?" he asked.
       "Yeah," I said. "But you don't."
       "No, but that doesn't mean I don't love you. I just don't love you THAT way. I wish I did, Rick. I love you so much more than I have ever loved a girl, but I don't know, man. It happens with them all the time, but it doesn't happen with you," he said.
       He cried, and I cried.
       "Rick, rub up against me, okay? I want you to get off. It's okay," Jason said.
       "No," I said, and I pulled back from him.
       "Why not? It's okay with me," he said.
       "Yeah, but it's not okay with me. It would have to be mutual, and I know you can't do that. Jason, you've been the best friend I've ever had, and I hope we can be best friends all of our lives," I said.
       "Me, too," he said. "We will be." Then we cried some more.
       I called him from work the day after our talk about coming out, years after I had seen him last.
       "Hey," I said, when he answered the phone. He knew who I was because his secretary had asked me my name.
       "Hey. What's up?" he asked.
       "A whole lot in my life in general, but today? Nothing special," I said.
       "I know about you and your boyfriend, Rick. And those kids y'all are raising. That's pretty awesome," he said. "I don't have anything like that to show for my life."
       "You have a girlfriend, don't you?" I asked.
       "Well, not at the moment," he said.
       "I thought you and a girl were living together. Did I get the wrong information?" I asked.
       "Naw. We lived together for a couple of years, but we split up about four months ago," he said. "I still don't know what to make of it. I mean, I thought we were in love, you know? I mean, I was. But evidently she wasn't. It was a clean break, too. She refuses to return my calls. She won't see me when I go to her office. It's like what we had never happened, Rick."
       "You've got my sympathy, brother," I said.
       Long pause.
       "Brother? We were brothers, weren't we? That's the way I always thought about you, Rick. You were my brother. I loved you so much, man," Jason said.
       I could tell he was tearing up. We hadn't talked in years, but it was like we had talked yesterday.
       "Why the past tense? Have your feelings about me changed?" I asked. That worried me.
       "No, not at all. We still are brothers, and I still do love you," he said. "It's just that we never see each other, and I thought maybe you didn't feel about me the same way you once did."
       "Nothing has changed on my end," I said. "But if you suddenly turned gay, we could still only be friends. I've got my man now, and it's permanent."
       "Your boyfriend?" he asked.
       "He's not my boyfriend, Jason. He's my spouse. His name is Kevin Foley, and he and I have made a formal, public, eternal commitment to each other. That's not going to change until one of us is dead," I said.
       There was a long pause. I wondered what was going through Jason's mind.
       "Are you still there?" I asked, finally.
       "Yes. I'm here, Rick. I'm just a little emotional right now," he said. "Please don't think I was, in any way, trying to trivialize your relationship with Kevin. I knew you guys had made a commitment. It was more or less habit, or a slip of the tongue, calling him your boyfriend. Please believe me."
       "Jason, I never for a second thought you were trivializing our relationship, man. Hell, we call each other 'boyfriend' sometimes, too. I just didn't know if you knew the nature of what we have. That's all, buddy." I paused. "Phew, this is making me pretty emotional, too."
       "I can tell," he said.
       "I'm sure you can. But listen, I didn't call just to shoot the shit and cry. I called to invite you to come see us," I said.
       "When?" he asked, rather eagerly.
       "Whenever you can make it," I said. "Can you get any time off work?"
       "Yeah. I've got a ton of days built up," he said. "How about Thursday?"
       "Day after tomorrow?" I asked.
       "Yeah. Is that too soon?" he asked.
       "No. That's fine. Oh, man, I can't wait to see you. I can't wait for Kevin to meet you and for you to meet him. And the boys. Our boys are unbelievable, Jason. They're going to love you, and I hope you'll love them," I said.
       We worked out the logistics. He lives in Ocala, Florida, which is about a four-hour drive away from Emerald Beach, and he said he would leave "first thing Thursday morning." I didn't exactly know what "first thing" meant, but Jason had never been a lay-a-bed as a kid. In fact, on the scores of occasions when we had spent the night together at either his house or mine, we were often "up with the chickens," out on the water with our surfboards. He said he'd do a MapQuest to use to get to our house, so I gave him our street address. I made sure he had our home phone number, and my cell number, too, in case the MapQuest didn't work out.
       After we hung up, I sat at my desk, staring into space and thinking about Jason. We had unbelievably good times together when we were growing up. Our relationship was so close that I'm sure some of our friends wondered if we were boyfriends. I wasn't out at the time, so maybe they didn't, but we were every bit as close as Tim and Kyle or Justin and Brian are. The physical component was absent, of course, but it could very easily have been added, as far as I was concerned.
       One time he was spending the night at my house. We were thirteen or fourteen at the time. We had long since given up having one of us sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag, and we routinely slept in the same bed. I don't know what our parents thought about that, if they knew, but that was what we did. That one particular night Jason had a wet dream. He was in just his briefs, as I was, so he was a mess, of course. He woke me up.
       "What?" I asked groggily.
       "I just came on myself," he said.
       "You did what?"
       "I came. I shot a load in my sleep," he said.
       "You had a wet dream. I have them all the time," I said. "Go back to sleep."
       "I know I had a wet dream. And that's the point. My Jockeys are wet, and I'm going to take them off," he said.
       "Okay," I said. Whatever, I thought.
       "I want you to take yours off, too," he said. "Please."
       "Okay," I said. I pulled my briefs down and tossed them onto the floor next to the bed. I was back asleep before they hit the carpet.
       The next morning we woke up hard, of course. I can't remember if I had ever seen his erection before, but that morning I did. And he saw mine, too. At that point in my life, I had vague notions that I was somehow different from the other guys, and I was beginning to believe that I might actually be gay. That morning, my "morning wood," which doesn't feel particularly good or sexual to me, became a sign of my full-blown sexual arousal in a matter of seconds. I jumped up and ran into my bathroom. I tried to pee, but I couldn't. It was at that moment that I knew, beyond any doubt, that I was gay.
       Sitting there thinking about that moment made me start getting aroused. I immediately put the image of Jason's penis out of my mind and stood up to go tell Kevin that he was paying us a visit. I told Kevin about talking to Jason, and he was excited that he was coming to see us. Then I told Kevin about what I had been thinking and about how I had started to get aroused.
       "Do you feel guilty about that?" he asked me.
       "Well, yeah. I do, Kevin. It worries me that I reacted that way," I said.
       "But what did you do when you felt yourself starting to get hard?" he asked.
       "I came down here," I said.
       "Do you understand what that means, Rick?" he asked.
       "It means I have to be super careful around Jason when he's here," I said.
       "No, that's not what it means at all, Babe. I mean, I don't want you screwing Jason, but you've told me several times that Jason isn't capable of having sex with a man, anyway. What it means, Rick, is that your commitment to me, to us as a couple, is much greater than physical desire or pleasure. I mean, you could have gone into your bathroom, jerked off, and never even mentioned it to me. I would never have known that. But you didn't do that. You didn't want to. Am I right?"
       "I didn't even think about doing that," I said. "I got kind of scared of myself, Kevin. You're right. As much as I love Jason, as much as I care about him, I belong to you."
       Kevin got up from behind his desk and took me into his arms. He kissed me tenderly.
       "You continue to amaze me," he said. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you, but I thank God every day I have you. I'd love to make love to you right now, but I've got a sales meeting in about three minutes, and I absolutely have got to be at it. But you know what, Rick? As good as making love to you right now might be, it wouldn't make love. The love is already here."
       I was incredibly touched. It was almost too tender, in fact. I had to make a wisecrack or I would surely go to pieces.
       "I think I'll go see if I can find Kyle and Justin to see if they want to jerk off with me," I said.
       He laughed.
       "You shithead. Get out of here," he said, and he kissed me again.
       * * *
       "So, who is this guy?" Justin asked.
       I had told them we would be having a guest day after tomorrow.
       "He's my best friend from childhood, Jus, and you damn sure better be nice to him. I'm warning you," I said.
       "Rick, do you think we would ever disrespect you by not being nice to a friend of yours?" Justin asked. I had meant it as a joke, but he was dead serious.
       "I was teasing you just now, Jus. I know y'all would never not be nice to my friend," I said.
       "Well, you better know it. I don't know about Goodson, but I'm going to be as nice as I know how to be," Justin said.
       "See, that's the thing, though. You don't know how to be all that nice," Kyle said in retaliation.
       "I know how to be just as nice as you taught me how to be, Kyle," Justin said.
       "I think he got you last, Kyle," I said.
       "I know it. Y'all all shut up. So we need to have a party, don't you think? Maybe a couple of parties," Kyle said.
       "We don't need to have anything special, Kyle," I said.
       "Sir, I beg to differ. Your best friend of all your life is coming to see us, and we're not going to celebrate that? Not where I live, Mister Mashburn. I'm thinking a real nice dinner party Friday night. My parents, Tim's parents, and Kevin's parents. Your parents, too, Rick. Saturday night, a friends' party. What do y'all say?" Kyle asked.
       "I say that's too much, Kyle. Not my parents or Rick's parents. Yours and Tim's are local, so that's fine, but not the long-distance ones. I mean, I've never even met Jason. He doesn't need to meet my parents on this trip. Besides, they were just here last week," Kevin said.
       "Okay. No long-distance parents. I think that's a big mistake, but I'll grant you right of refusal. I think they should be the ones to refuse, but what do I know?" Kyle said.
       "Next time he comes, Bubba," I said.
       "All right. Next time. Does he like shrimp?" Kyle asked.
       "I think he pretty much likes everything, Kyle. He did as a kid, anyway. Remember, I haven't even talked to him in years. Until today. But my guess would be he still likes everything," I said. "Just plan whatever you want to serve."
       "I'm thinking shrimp and grits. We have never had that, but I've had it in Charleston a bunch of times. Cheese grits, highly seasoned with onions and garlic, with sautéed shrimp. I know it sounds gross, but I guarantee it's good. We'll have a salad with that, and stuffed artichokes for appetizers. It's going to be good. Trust me on this one, Rick," Kyle said.
       "I trust you, Bubba," I said.
       * * *
       "First thing in the morning" for Jason must have been six o'clock because he got there at nine o'clock. That was Central Time, so he must have started at six Eastern Time.
       Since I didn't know what time he was going to get there, I took the day off just in case he got there early. I was glad I did.
       "Oh, man," I said. "Taylor, you look mighty good."
       "So do you, Mashburn," he said, and we hugged long and hard, just laughing with delight.
       It was so damn stupid that he and I hadn't gotten together in such a long time. Holding him in my arms in that hug wasn't quite like holding Kevin, but it sure felt good.
       "Would you like some breakfast, or some coffee, or something?" I asked when we broke our hug.
       "Coffee would be great," he said.
       "Okay. Let's go make it," I said. I was so happy to see him, I didn't want to let him out of my sight.
       "Are you here by yourself? Nice house, by the way. Very nice," he said.
       "Thanks. Yeah, I'm here by myself. Everybody else is at work. I'll call Kevin as soon as I get the coffee on. He told me to call him as soon as you got here so he could come home," I said.
       "Who owns this place?" he asked.
       "Kevin and I do. This is our home," I said.
       "Man, this place is really, really nice. God, look at that pool. And it's on the water, too. Wow! Is that your boat out there?" he asked. He was looking out the kitchen window.
       "Technically it belongs to one of the kids, but, yeah. It's ours. It belongs to the family," I said.
       The dogs were outside, but they both came in just then. They each barked once, but then they sat down side by side, waiting for a command. They wanted to meet our guest.
       Jason got a real happy grin on his face when he saw them.
       "Who is this person? and this one?" he asked.
       "This is Trixie, and this is Krewe," I said. They both wagged their tails even more than they had been wagging them when I said their names. "Girls, this is Jason. Trixie, come and meet Jason."
       She barked once and came over to meet a new friend. She sat down, as Brian had taught her to do, and she extended her paw for Jason to shake. He did it, laughing with delight. Then we did the same thing with Krewe.
       "My God, Rick. This is unbelievable. Did you train them to do that? That's incredible," he said.
       "No, one of the kids trained them. He's actually working as a dog trainer at a prison right now. I wish I could train dogs like Brian can," I said.
       "Well, he must really be remarkable," he said. "He's working at a prison?"
       "Yeah, he is, and he is remarkable, Jason, but all the kids are remarkable. How many books have you published?" I asked.
       "Published? I'm lucky I've read one," he said.
       I laughed. "I know. Me, too, but one of our guys has published a book, and he's getting ready to publish another one soon," I said. "He's nineteen years old."
       "My God! I thought these kids are waifs and orphans," he said.
       "Some of them are, but waifs and orphans can have talent, too, you know? Brian, the dog trainer, is, essentially, an orphan. He just won a scholarship to Tulane worth $120,000, and he was valedictorian of his class. And he finished high school a year early."
       He whistled softly.
       "That's what I'm talking about, man. These kids are totally awesome. Another one of ours, Tim, won the same scholarship to Tulane that Brian did, and he was valedictorian of his class, too. His partner is Kyle, the one who did the book. I'm telling you, Jason. You and I never knew kids like this when we were in high school. These guys are un-fucking-believable, man," I said.
       I got Kevin on the phone, and he said he'd be here in a few minutes. I poured coffee for Jason and me.
       "I see there's an ashtray on the table. Is it okay if I smoke?" Jason asked.
       "Of course it's okay," I said. "I don't smoke anymore, but Kevin and a couple of the boys do."
       "You don't smoke anymore? You fuck! Why'd you quit, man? I thought we were going to go down together," he said, grinning.
       "Well, I took up running. Triathlon," I said.
       "Yeah, my mom told me about that. The Ironman, or something like that?" he asked.
       "Well, I did the Ironman once, but I'm pretty much out of tri now. Now I just run. I've run two or three marathons a year for the last couple of years. I had a bike accident training for tri, and Kevin wanted me to quit. I wasn't enjoying it all that much, anyway, so I did. I quit tri. No more freezing-ass swimming in the Gulf and no more bike. I still ride my bike occasionally, but not to train. Just for fun. Anyway, back to smoking. I'm running a marathon, okay? The only thing I can think about the last ten miles is how bad I want a cigarette. How fucking stupid is that?" I asked.
       He laughed hard.
       "I see your point. I can see it now. Kevin hands you a lit cigarette as you cross the finish line," he said.
       "He did it. He fucking did it, 'cause I told him I wanted him to," I said. "People were taking pictures of me right and left, and then I thought, They're making fun of me. Smoking a cigarette crossing the finish line in a marathon is just too fucking stupid, even for me. That's when I quit."
       "Does it bother you that I'm smoking? Because I can put it out, if it does," Jason said.
       "Hell, no, it doesn't bother me. Like I said, three of 'em in the house smoke. I'm a grown-up now, Jason. I rule my own life," I said.
       Kevin came in just then, and we kissed hello. I don't know if that embarrassed Jason or not, but that's what we always do.
       "Kevin, this is my life-long best buddy, Jason Taylor. Jason, this is my partner, Kevin Foley," I said.
       They shook hands, and then Jason grabbed Kevin in a hug. Tears came to my eyes. Happy tears. Very happy tears. That was so good to see.
       * * *
       Tim, Kyle, and Justin came home around 12:30. Jason, Kevin, and I had been sitting in the den, getting acquainted and catching up. They always come in through the back door, and we heard them in the kitchen. We hadn't yet done anything about lunch because we knew they would be home around lunch time.
       They came into the den kind of sheepish. I was surprised. Not at Tim, but at Kyle and Justin.
       "Hi," Kyle said.
       "Come here and meet my brother," I said.
       I introduced the boys and Jason, and they shook hands all around. I wished the others had been there, but they didn't get off until 5:00. In some ways, though, it was probably good that Jason would get to meet them in smaller groups. Meeting seven boys at one time might be kind of overwhelming.
       "Have y'all had lunch yet?" I asked.
       "No, sir," Kyle said.
       "Well, let's go get some lunch," I said. "Where do y'all want to go?"
       "Starfish?" Kyle said.
       "Okay. Y'all take a car, and we'll meet you there," I said.
       "Okay," Kyle said.
       "Those guys aren't gay, are they?" Jason said.
       "Oh, yes they are," I said. "They don't exactly fit the stereotype, do they?"
       "Not at all. But neither do you two," he said.
       "Well, maybe the stereotype's wrong," I said.
       "Yeah, but Rick, I know some gay guys who act very gay," Jason said.
       "So do we. We've got one in the family, in fact. Murray. But Jason, a stereotype doesn't apply to everybody in a given group. In fact, in the gay community, at least as far as we know it, it doesn't really apply to most," I said. "You'll see. You're going to get a chance to meet our friends. You would never even suspect that most of them are gay, if they didn't tell you."
       "Well, I knew you were," he said.
       "Yeah, but not by my mannerisms, right?" I said.
       "No, never that. But you never dated girls, and you used to look at boys when we were out somewhere the same way I looked at girls. With lust," he said.
       "You shit," I said, laughing.
       "You know it's true, Rick. I'm sure nobody else ever noticed, but nobody else was as tuned into you as I was. Remember?" he asked.
       "Yeah, I remember. We were pretty much inseparable, weren't we?" I asked.
       "Yeah. I'm sure some people thought we were boyfriends, and I wanted so bad to be gay when I figured out that you were. It just couldn't happen, though. I don't know why," he said.
       "You couldn't be gay 'cause you're straight, dumbass," Kevin said.
       Kevin and Jason had clicked, just like I knew they would.
       "I guess," Jason said.
       * * *
       The rest of that weekend went by in a blur. We did all the sports stuff we usually do, and I knew Jason was having a great time. Kyle and Philip took him out SCUBA diving, and they rented equipment for him at the dive shop they go to. That's a wrinkle in Jason's interests that had developed since he and I had hung out, and he had a damn good time with those boys. They caught a mess of lobsters, too, and Kyle got a bunch of good fish with that spear gun Tim had given him for Christmas.
       The dinner party Friday night was real nice, and Kyle outdid himself with the food.
       "Son, I think these grits are about as good as any I've ever had," Rita said.
       "Thank you, Mama," Kyle said.
       "You can't believe her about those grits," Kyle said, when he, Jason, and I were in the kitchen after dinner. "She thinks every fucking thing I do is the best."
       We laughed.
       "They were mighty good, though, Kyle," I said.
       "They were okay. Mine were a little lumpy, though. That's okay, though. They tasted good, even though they had some lumps," he said.
       "Kyle, I think your parents love you very much," Jason said.
       "Oh, I know they do, Jason. But you didn't hear my daddy say nothing about those being the best grits he ever had. 'Cause they weren't. He's more objective than she is," Kyle said.
       "Your mama's supposed to be prejudiced in your favor, Kyle," Jason said.
       "Well, she got that part right, I guess, 'cause she damn sure is," Kyle said.
       * * *
       "I don't want to leave here. Ever," Jason said.
       "I know, but it's Sunday afternoon, and you've got to work tomorrow. And so do Kevin and I, and the boys, too," I said.
       "Rick, can I come back here sometimes?" Jason asked.
       "Son, you are always welcome here. Anytime you want to. If you could live with a house full of queers, you could move in," I said.
       "This isn't a house full of queers, Rick, at least not the way most people think of that term. This is a house full of love, man. But my job, and all . . ."
       "I know. But you're always welcome here, Bubba. You're my brother, man," I said, and tears started down my face.
       "I know," he said, and he was crying, too. "Whoa! I've got to pull myself together. I really do need to go. Thank you so much, Bubba. I love that term, by the way. Bubba. It's what we are, isn't it? All of us in this house."
       "Yes," I said. The emotion was too strong. I was crying like a baby.
       "Okay. Well. I love you, Rick, and I always will," Jason said.
       "I love you, too," I said. We hugged once again, and he took off.
       * * *
       "That Jason's a real nice guy. Why does he want to be a friend of yours?" Justin asked that night in the den.
       "Shut up, you fuck," I said to him.
       "I know you're teasing Justin, Rick, but Jason really is a nice guy," Kyle said. "I hope he's going to come see us again."
       "He will," I said. "Guys, I was so proud of you all this weekend, I can't even say," I said. "Thank you."
       "For what?" Kyle asked.
       "For making Jason welcome. For putting on those parties. For being your wonderful selves," I said.
       "You're welcome, Bubba, but you don't have to thank us. He's your brother and best friend. What were we going to do? Not be friendly to him? Treat him like shit? You don't know us, if you think that could ever happen," Kyle said.
       "No, I know that could never happen. You guys behaved like I thought you would," I said.
       "You hear that? That was thunder. More rain for the wicked. I can't believe the amount of rain we've had this summer," Kyle said. "I heard on TV that we're about four inches above drought level now. And that drought has been going on for four years. I guess that's good," Kyle said.
       "Yeah, it is good," Kevin said. "I don't know why, exactly, but it is. That's what the experts are all saying."

(Jason's Perspective)
       When Rick called me, I thought it was an incredible coincidence. I had been thinking about him for days, and I had even thought, at odd times, of giving him a call. I hadn't called because I didn't have his number, and every time I thought of it was some odd moment when a call just wasn't possible. He said he wanted me to come up to visit, and I snapped up the invitation in an instant. I hoped at the time that I hadn't sounded too eager, but, once I got there, any doubts I might have had vanished into thin air. He was still my best friend, and we were still soulmates, as we had been as kids.
       The first thing I noticed about Rick when I got there was his physique. He has always been a very handsome guy, but he had really worked on that body. He told me he's a runner, and, indeed, he ran on a treadmill every morning I was there. But he had spent hours in the gym, too, and not just standing around talking, either. That boy is solid muscle. When I hugged him, I thought, I've grabbed a tree. His body was that hard.
       That was probably the best weekend of my life. Before that, I thought the best weekend was when Florida beat FSU in the Sugar Bowl for the National Championship, but that doesn't hold a candle to seeing Rick again and meeting his family. And a family it definitely is. Kevin and I clicked in about thirty seconds, and we were both teasing each other and having fun in the first five minutes. It was so totally obvious to me that those two are in love. Looking back on my own romantic past, I know my attachment to my girlfriends was never like that. It made me a little jealous of Rick, but I was happy for him at the same time.
       Everything about that place is the best. I mean, their house is truly awesome. It was built into the side of an incline, I guess you'd say, that sweeps down to a bayou. The lot has plenty of big oaks on it, which is always a plus in my mind, and they have a gigantic swimming pool. It's probably three times the size of most home swimming pools. It needs to be, though, once all the kids and friends and dogs get in it. They have a dock and a great boat, but probably the best thing is the building they call the clubhouse. That place has just about everything a teenaged boy could want for recreation, and I know they make constant use of it.
       Thursday night we hung out in the clubhouse.
       "Let's go, Taylor," Rick said. "Let's shoot some pool. Who else wants to play?"
       Kyle and Justin both did. Whoa! What a pair they are. Neither of them had a shirt on, and I was able to admire them in just their shorts. Kyle has black hair and the face of an Abercrombie and Fitch model. The hair pattern on his chest is picture perfect, and he had a pretty dark five-o'clock shadow. Kyle is very well built, but he isn't muscle-man-ish, like Justin is. Justin is a blond, albeit somewhat of a "dirty blond," and his physique is thick, tight, heavily muscled. They're the same height, but I think Justin probably outweighs Kyle by twenty-five pounds of muscle, or more. Where Kyle is hairy, Justin is smooth. They both had outstanding tans, too.
       "You two are pretty good-looking guys," I said, and they both beamed.
       "Are you turning queer on us here?" Justin asked, grinning.
       "No. I tried that, but it didn't work," I said. "But you guys don't think straight boys notice what other guys look like? Grow up, fellas."
       They laughed.
       "Kevin's brother -- and he's our brother too -- is straight, and we've talked to him about that stuff, so we know," Kyle said. "I appreciate the compliment, and that's all I'm gonna say. Rack the table, Bubba."
       Justin racked the table.
       There was a constant stream of jokes and profanity and teasing the whole time we played. Those boys are just like my friends in Ocala. They might be gay, but nobody, not even the most virulent straight guy in America, would feel uncomfortable with them. We were just four ordinary guys shooting pool and drinking beer. Everybody was out there in the clubhouse. Some of them were watching a DVD; some were reading; Brian was on the computer. It was the most natural, normal evening I had ever spent.
       When it got a little cooler, we went outside. The boys stripped down to skin to go into the pool.
       "You want to join us? We usually swim naked, but you don't have to," Rick said.
       "How many times have you seen me naked, Mashburn?" I said, dropping my shorts and underwear.
       "Iono. Couple million?" he said. He was imitating Kyle, and it was funny.
       "I'm on top o' dat," I said, imitating Kyle myself.
       "Kyle. Did you hear him grumble?" Rick said.
       "Yeah. He did pretty good for a Yankee," Kyle grumbled back.
       "Yankee?! Where da fuck you think I'm from?" I said, imitating his grumble.
       "Sarasota. Ain't dat Yankee? Rick's a Yankee, so you must be, too," Kyle said.
       "Let's get that fucker," Rick said, and he and I chased Kyle around the pool.
       The dogs were barking and running with us. I could tell they had no intention of biting Rick, but I wasn't so sure they didn't want a piece of my bare ass. Kyle finally jumped into the pool before we caught him, and Rick and I jumped in right behind him. Both dogs came in with us, and we jumped all over Kyle to dunk him. It was great!
       The other boys came in, and we had a pool fight like Rick and I used to have with our friends when we were kids. I hadn't done that in years, and it was so much fun. The dogs seemed to know we were playing, and they played with us, even going so far as jumping on Kyle's back to push him under. There were so many laughs and screams of "shit" and "fuck" that you couldn't keep up with them all.
       We finished our pool time with some volleyball. Rick and Kyle were the captains, and it was very interesting to me to observe the order in which they chose their teams. Rick eventually chose me for his team, but he chose me last. I had never been chosen last in my whole fucking life. His first choice was Murray, who is absolutely pure gay stereotype. Kyle's first choice was Denny. He doesn't really act all that gay, but I could tell from one glance that that boy is no athlete. The teams ended up pretty even, though, despite their unorthodox way of choosing.
       "You didn't think I was going to choose you, did you?" Rick said to me after we had gotten out of the pool for the night.
       The boys, who all had to work the next day, had gone into the house, presumably to go to bed. It was just Rick, Kevin, and I still outside. Kevin and I were having drinks, but Rick was drinking bottled water.
       "No! What the hell's wrong with you? You were supposed to choose me first. I've always been the first choice," I said.
       "Kyle knew that, too, Jason," Kevin said, "and that's exactly why you weren't chosen first. I'm sure that throughout their lives, Murray and Denny have always been the last ones chosen for a team at school. But here things are different. Those boys are almost always chosen first or second. It's kind of like a self-concept thing, you know?"
       I thought about that.
       "My God. Everything here's about building those kids up, isn't it?" I asked.
       "Absolutely, Bubba," Kevin said. "We're talking about kids who have been severely abused, in some cases. Little Pete was homeless, living in his rusted-out car in a parking lot in Atlanta for two months after his druggie mother and her boyfriend abandoned him at sixteen. Murray's mother vanished, and Denny's mother and sole caregiver is in prison. We found Justin naked and in shackles in a motel room, abandoned. Brian was tossed out by his mom and stepdad when he was fourteen. He was then put in a couple of foster homes. He ran away from the last one, in Tallahassee, because the guy was trying to rape him. Tim and Kyle are different. You'll meet their parents tomorrow night. We got Tim because his dad was in the Navy and assigned to a ship in the Indian Ocean during the war in Afghanistan. His mother is a basket case in a mental hospital, and his dad turned to us for help. His dad has since remarried. Kyle was Timmy's boyfriend, so he came along as part of the package."
       "That Kyle's an impressive kid," I said.
       "Oh, yeah. Kyle's the head kid. No question about that. He's the one who did the book," I said. "He's also a multi-millionaire."
       "Really? He sure doesn't act like it. He's one of the most down-to-earth kids I've ever met," I said. "And one of the cutest, too, I might add."
       "There goes another stereotype, right?" Rick said.
       "I'm sorry, but you guys are rocking my world," I said.
       "That's our job, Jason," Kevin said. "Tomorrow night is a big family dinner, and you'll get to meet Tim and Kyle's parents. Saturday night, though, is a party for our friends. Wait until you meet them. You'll be totally amazed."
       "All gay?" I asked.
       "No. Not at all. And not all male, either. You'll see naked girls running around here. Naked straight girls. There's a doctor; a couple of lawyers; a CPA; several engineers; a bunch of high school and college students, gay and straight; a high school math teacher; a priest; businessmen. It's quite a mix," Rick said.
       "My God! It sounds like it," I said.
       "You know the rainbow flag, don't you? The gay flag?" Rick asked.
       "Yeah," I said.
       "Well, every color will be here Saturday night. I don't think there are any transsexuals in the crowd, but there'll be some of everybody else," Rick said.
       "How many people are we talking about?" I asked.
       "I don't know. Probably seventy-five or eighty," Rick said. "I think Kyle planned to feed eighty-five."
       "Whoa! So many?" I asked.
       "It's not every weekend that the bestest buddy of my life comes to see us," Rick said.

Chapter 08

(Kevin's Perspective)
       The long weekend with Jason Taylor was wonderful. I should have known that my man's best friend would be intelligent and funny and sensitive and fun to be with. He's damn good looking, too. Rick has all those qualities, but, for some reason, I expected Jason to be conservative and dull. He's anything but that. He and I clicked as friends immediately, much as Rick and I had done. Jason's a good guy, and I have the sense that he'll be coming back to see us often. And that's fine with me.
       We were expecting Chris and David Uhle that afternoon. They were going to spend most of the week with us, and then they were going to go on downstate to Lakeland to spend some time with their maternal grandparents. We visited them in Montana two years ago, the summer after Chris spent some time with us in foster care, but we haven't been back to Montana since then. They came to see us last summer, en route to see Chris's grandparents, and I feel a little guilty that we haven't gone back to see them.
       We went to the airport to pick up our new houseguests. Actually, it was just Kyle, Tim, Justin, Rick, and I. Brian wanted badly to go, but he had to work. The other boys were at work, too, but they didn't know Chris and David, anyhow.
       The Emerald Beach airport is small, with only four gates. Why there are even four is beyond me, and I have never seen more than one in use in all the times I've been there. They used to let you go into the gate area to meet people, but they put a stop to that after the September 11th tragedy. Now you have to wait in the area outside the security checkpoint. There are a few benches out there, but there aren't the nice chairs like there are in the boarding area. We all sat down, but we ended up relinquishing our seats to some oldsters who were there to pick up their grandchildren. Kyle went into the bar and came out with free popcorn for everybody. He always does that, and it was fresh and good that day.
       Chris and David were two of the first ones in the terminal. Chris didn't have crutches, as he had had last year, and it was pretty obvious the frail, stiff, little wisp of a boy who had first come to us in a wheelchair has developed into quite a man. He still wears a brace sort of thing on his weak leg, but it's much smaller and less cumbersome than the one he wore last summer. David had hit his growth spurt, too, and he's quite an impressive-looking guy.
       I saw Chris and David scan the crowd that was waiting, and their faces both lit up when they saw us. I watched our boys watching the Uhles, and the excitement on their faces and in their body language was palpable. I looked at Rick, and he was just as misty-eyed as I was.
       Chris speeded up his pace, and there wasn't a trace of a limp. If he had been wearing loose long khakis instead of shorts, there would have been no sign of his physical impairment. I thought of the miracle of physical therapy, and of the indomitableness of a boy of character.
       Kyle was the first one to greet Chris. They hugged, of course, and Chris picked Kyle up off the floor and spun around with him.
       "Goddamn!" Kyle said, rather louder than he should have. People turned to see what was going on, but they all smiled at the obvious love and joy Kyle and Chris exhibited.
       "I've dreamed about doing that ever since we found out for sure we were going to get to come here this summer," Chris said.
       Tears of joy were streaming down his face and Kyle's face, too.
       Chris and David hugged each of us in turn. We got their luggage, and our excitement attracted the attention of other people in the baggage claim area.
       "Are they brothers or cousins?" a middle-aged lady asked me. She was enjoying their excitement.
       "Neither. Just good friends, but close enough to be brothers," I said.
       "Well, there's obviously love there," she said, smiling.
       "Yes, ma'am," I said. "That's for sure."
       Kyle and Chris went and got the Land Cruiser, and they pulled it around to the door of the baggage claim area. Chris was driving.
       "Do you guys mind if we make a stop?" Chris asked, once we left the airport.
       "Don't tell me you got to take a shit," Justin said.
       "Yeah, and I want you to help me," Chris said.
       We all roared with laughter, remembering the scene of a few years ago when Justin was helping Chris in the bathroom and Chris shit all over him.
       "No way," Jus said. "Been there, done that. Still got the stains to prove it, too."
       We all laughed hard again. I got a little worried that Chris wasn't paying enough attention to his driving.
       "Chris, pull over till you finish laughing," I said.
       "I'm okay, Kevin," he said, and he settled down. "What I want is ice cream."
       "Absolutely," Rick said. He gave Chris directions to an ice cream shop. We all had huge banana splits.
       "So, wazzup?" Kyle asked in a thick grumble.
       "I've missed the sound of that voice," Chris said.
       "How could you? We talk on the phone at least once a week," Kyle said.
       "I know, but it ain't the same," Chris said, in a perfect imitation of Kyle.
       "Listen at him," Kyle said, laughing. "You sound just like me."
       "I know," Chris said. "I been practicing."
       "You're good," Rick said.
       "Thanks. I had a good teacher," Chris said. "Wazzup is I don't have a girlfriend anymore. Things got ugly after that little mishap we had. You guys know about that, don't you?"
       "Yeah, you dumb fuck," Kyle said. "Don't you know about rubbers?"
       "Yeah, I know about rubbers, Kyle. Now. I've had quite a few animated discussions with my parents about contraception. But two things in my own defense. First, she swore to me she was on the pill. She said she couldn't get pregnant. Second, I was convinced I was sterile. That I couldn't make a baby," he said.
       "Did some doctor tell you that?" Kyle asked.
       "No," Chris said.
       "So why'd you think you were sterile?" Justin asked.
       "Well, I had checked myself. I couldn't see anything. I used a magnifying glass and everything," Chris said.
       "What'd you think? Sperms are the size of roaches or something? I gave you more credit than that, Bubba," Kyle said.
       "Well, I did it when I was in the eighth grade, okay? I know I was stupid, Kyle. My parents and her parents have all made that very clear to me," Chris said, and he looked pretty sad.
       "Hey, cheer up, dude. Don't come across the country and get mopey on me, okay? Chris, I know you're not stupid, man. Don't EVER think that. Do you think she really had a natural miscarriage, or did she have an abortion?" Kyle asked.
       "I really don't know. She said it was a miscarriage, and she didn't make me pay for an abortion. I guess I'll really never know," Chris said. "It sure put a damper on the end of the year, though."
       "I'm sure it did. She's the same one who swore to you . . ." Kyle started to say.
       "Kyle, please don't go there," David said. "This has been very difficult for our family, and we've talked about that a lot. Let's change the subject and talk about me."
       We all chuckled. He's really cute, much cuter, in fact, than he was last year.
       "What about you? What you been up to?" Justin asked. David most reminds all of us of Brian, so it's probably natural for Justin to be drawn to him.
       "Well, I have a boyfriend, and we're both out at school. He's going to be a senior, and I'm going to be a sophomore," David said.
       "Congratulations, man," I said. "And everybody's fine with it?"
       "They seem to be. I'm in rodeo now. Gay rodeo," David said.
       "No shit! I wish we had rodeo around here. I could get into some of that stuff," Kyle said.
       Justin said he thought he could, too.
       "We do," Rick said. "It's not specifically gay rodeo, but it's rodeo. Up in Bonifay and the little farming towns north of here. Don't you guys read the sports page?"
       "No. I don't read the paper, period," Kyle said.
       "I knew about it, Babe," Tim said. "I mean, I see the articles, anyway. I don't usually read them."
       "I don't even know why I'm saying this. I barely had time to breathe last year, much less be in rodeo," Kyle said.
       "I miss little Brian. I guess he's working," Chris said.
       "Yeah, he's working, but he ain't so little anymore. In fact, he's the biggest one in the house. In every way, if you get my meaning," Justin said.
       We laughed.
       "That boy's got a nest of hair on his chest, too. Him and Kyle have turned into bears," Justin said.
       "Brian is my friend," David said. "I can't wait to see him."
       "Yeah, ole Brian's a pretty special guy, that's for sure," Justin said. "He's going to take Friday off so we can go out to the island. Y'all are leaving Sunday, right?"
       "Yeah," Chris said.
       "Well, we are, too, but we're headed to New Orleans. Brian and Tim have to go to orientation at Tulane University, and Kyle and I have to register at UNO," Jus said.
       "When you guys are living in New Orleans, Dave and I are coming to see you," Chris said.
       "Chris, y'all will always be welcome. You know that, Bubba," Kyle said.
       Chris's mood had noticeably improved. We had all finished our ice cream by then, and he got very subdued again.
       "Guys, these last few months have been shit for me," Chris said. "All that bullshit with Jennifer and the baby and everything. I can't tell you how many times I wished I could have been here with you guys. My parents didn't take the news about the baby well at all. In fact, at one point I thought they were going to make me marry the bitch. Of course, I didn't think of her as a bitch then, but we weren't in love. Not like you guys are in love. We were in 'like.' We were in 'lust.' I don't know. So many times, I just wanted to say 'fuck it,' and get on a plane for here. I love my parents, and all, but they haven't really been my parents all that long, you know? Shit, I don't even know what I'm saying."
       "Well, you're here now, Bubba," Kyle said.
       "I want to say some stuff. This is the only time I'm going to talk about it on this trip, but I have to say it. This boy right here, my brother . . ." He had to pause to calm down. Tears of love were in his eyes. "Dave has been my salvation through all of this, guys. This boy has given me hours and hours and hours of his time to talk, as I've tried to work through all this shit. It's only because of him that I don't hate myself right now. He's helped me see my parents' point of view in all of this, and he's kept me focused on my therapy, too. Dave was in the gym with me every day, doing all the shit I had to do. He's gay, and I'm straight, supposedly. I mean, I'm not gay, but I don't know that I want to be straight, either. It just fucks up your life. Anyway, I wanted you all to know this about my brother."
       There wasn't a dry eye around that table.
       "Let's go," Rick said, and we left to go home.
       I'm glad we had that discussion at the ice cream place. I think it made all of us realize that being straight isn't exactly a cakewalk, either. I think gay boys tend to idealize straighthood, if that's even a word, as a state or condition where everything is fine and cool. In fact, straight people have their problems, too. They may be different from the problems of gay people, but they're not necessarily any easier.
       When we got home, and Chris and David got settled in their rooms, we congregated in the den. Chris and I were the first two in there. He had taken off his brace and the clodhopper shoe he had been wearing with it, and he was just in deck shoes.
       "You don't need your brace?" I asked.
       "Naw. I haven't worn it on a regular basis for several months," he said. "Mom and Dad made me wear it for the trip because of the Atlanta airport, but I really don't need it anymore. When I get real tired, I limp a little bit, but I'm not there yet, Kev."
       "You've made amazing progress," I said.
       "I know I have. I work out every single day. I never miss," he said. "If I skip my exercises a few days, which I've had to do a couple of times, I'm back to limping. That's how fast I lose muscle tone. I'm not really working with a PT anymore, but I get periodic evaluations. They change my routine a little, but it basically stays the same."
       "Do you work out just your right leg or what?" I asked.
       "I give that a lot of attention, but I basically work out everything. Look," he said, and he pulled his tee shirt up over his head. He stood up. His left shoulder, arm, and pectoral muscle were very well developed. His right side was smaller, but it was well defined, too. His right side reminded me of Tim and Brian, and his left side reminded me of Rick and Justin. He isn't as big as they are, but he was looking good.
       "You look good, Bubba. Real good. I'm so proud of you," I said.
       "I wish I was proud of myself, Kevin. I mean, I'm proud of my physical accomplishments, but . . ." He let out a deep breath.
       "Come here and sit next to me," I said. I put my arm around his shoulders. "Let me tell you something. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that with Jennifer, but that doesn't diminish our love for you or our pride in you one iota."
       "I wish my parents felt that way," he said.
       "What did they say to you?" I asked.
       "A lot. But the thing that got me the worst was they said I disappointed them. And I know I did, Kevin. Hell, I disappointed myself. I mean, I'm not ready to be a father, but I would have stepped up to the plate. I really do think she got an abortion. She swears not, but, like Kyle started to say, I can't believe her, after the birth control pill thing. When I see you guys, I think it's so much easier being gay," he said.
       "Well, it's not easy being gay, just like it's not easy being straight. The bottom line is, it's not easy being a human being," I said.
       The rest of the guys came in just then.
       "Where have y'all been?" I asked.
       "We've been talking to our brother, Dave," Justin said. "Have you got a problem with that?"
       Chris and I separated.
       "Goddamn! Look at this. Stand up," Kyle said to Chris. "You're some kind of fucking muscleman or something."
       Chris was laughing, and the others were, too.
       Rick came in. He had been on the phone in the study, no doubt talking to his secretary.
       "Man, this is awesome," Kyle said. "You feel like working out right now?"
       "Yeah, I do need to," Chris said.
       "Well, let's go. Then we'll go for a swim, and then I'm going to get your ass up on a ski," Kyle said. Chris just giggled.
       Chris had graduated from high school with honors, had conceived a child, and had remade his body. Yet Kyle, ever the Alpha Male, had Chris totally wrapped around his little finger. Chris loves Justin, Tim, and Brian, too, and, of course, Rick and me, but Kyle is his idol. Could a less likely friendship, between straight Montana and gay Emerald Beach, Florida, ever exist?

(Chris's Perspective)
       I feel like a pure fool over what happened with me and my girlfriend. We started dating before Christmas, and we started having sex almost right away. I don't think I was all that aggressive, but it just seemed to happen. Before the first time, I asked her about protection. I really didn't think I could father a child, but I wanted to make sure we were safe, just in case I was wrong. She assured me she was protected. I had been with two or three other girls, and it had never been an issue. Apparently, they all got on the pill before they started dating.
       Then around the first of April she called me one night in tears.
       "What's the matter?" I asked.
       "I'm pregnant," she said.
       My heart stopped. I was barely eighteen. She was seventeen. We were way too young to have a family. Plus, I didn't want to marry her, anyway.
       "Are you sure?" I asked.
       "I haven't been to a doctor yet, but my mom and I did three home pregnancy tests tonight, and every one of them said I'm pregnant," she said.
       "Is it mine?" I asked.
       "Of course it's yours, Chris. I haven't been with anybody but you for months. It's yours," she said.
       "But I think I'm sterile," I said.
       "Well, think again. You're the father," she said.
       Believe it or not, I actually got an erection when she said that. That's how fucked up I was. I was proud that I could be a daddy. That news aroused my masculinity, and I got hard as a rock. I was going to be a father. Me! Chris Uhle!
       "Are you still there?" she asked.
       "Yeah, I'm here. What are we going to do now?" I asked. "What did your mom say?"
       "She's totally pissed off and so is my dad. I'm going to the walk-in clinic tomorrow," she said.
       "For what? Are you sick?" I asked.
       "No. We've got to get medical confirmation," she said. "Although I've been throwing up every morning."
       "Oh," I said. "Do you want me to go with you? I can skip school and go, you know."
       "No. My mom said she and I would take care of this problem," she said. "Don't tell anybody, you hear?"
       "Okay," I said.
       The next afternoon, I called her as soon as I got home from school.
       "What did the test say?" I asked.
       "I'm pregnant," she said. "Just like I thought."
       "I'm coming over," I said.
       "No. Don't come over here," she said.
       "Why not?" I asked.
       "Because my mom will kill you if she sees you," she said.
       It was a Thursday afternoon. "Are we going to see each other this weekend?" I asked.
       "No. I've got to go to Billings tomorrow," she said.
       "Billings? For what?" I asked.
       "I have to see a specialist there tomorrow. I'll call you. Goodbye," she said.
       "Jen . . ." I said, but she was off the line.
       Jesus! What do I do now? I just sat there, staring off into space. Dave tapped on my door.
       "What?" I shouted.
       "Can I print something?" he asked.
       "Yeah, come in," I said.
       I had the one and only printer in the house hooked up to my computer, and he needed to use it for a paper he had due the next day. He was in just his briefs. He put his floppy into my computer and started up the printer.
       "What's the matter? You look like diarrhea," he said.
       "Thanks," I said, but I smiled at him. "Can you keep a secret?"
       "Yeah," he said. I told him all about Jennifer.
       "I think you need to tell Mom and Dad," he said.
       "I don't want to tell them," I said. "They're not going to like it."
       "I know, but you can't really keep a baby secret, Chris. Her parents are going to be calling them," he said.
       Shit, I thought. He's right. I can't keep a baby secret. God! What the fuck have I done? I have been so fucking stupid. Not to mention irresponsible.
       In a little while, I worked up the nerve to go tell them. They were not happy about becoming grandparents, at all. We're not a religious family, but that didn't matter. They weren't happy. They kept saying I had ruined my future. It was that kind of stuff.
       Some guys wanted me to go out with them Friday night, but I was too depressed to want to go. I had gone to school that day, but, by third period, it got to be way too much. I checked out of school. I told them in the attendance office that I was sick, and, since I'm eighteen, they didn't have to call my parents. I went home and raided the liquor cabinet. I drank four or five stiff vodkas, and then I went to sleep.
       "Chris, honey, what's the matter?" my stepmom asked, when she got home from her teaching job. She was at my door, which was closed and locked.
       "I don't feel good. I'll be okay," I said. "I think I have a stomach virus." I lied through my teeth, of course.
       "Well, if you need us, call us. Okay?" she said.
       "I will," I said.
       I woke up with a headache, and the last thing I wanted was family time with them. I flipped on my TV for background noise, and I just lay there. I was numb. I had no idea what time it was, but I knew it was well into the evening hours. There was a tap on my door.
       "What?" I asked.
       "It's me. Let me in," Dave said.
       I got up to unlock the door for him, and all that vodka hit me in the head. It was awful.
       "Do you want to talk to me?" Dave asked.
       "Bubba, my life is so fucked up right now, I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel," I said. "I don't know if I can talk about it."
       "Jennifer wasn't in school today," he said.
       "I know. She had to go to Billings," I said.
       "Are you really sick?" he asked.
       "Yeah, but not physically. I have a bad headache, but that's from drinking all afternoon. What are Mom and Dad doing?" I asked.
       "I don't know. I just got home, and they weren't in the den. Maybe they're in bed. It's ten o'clock," he said.
       "Do you feel like going to Rocky Mountain Waffles? I'm real hungry," I said.
       "Sure," he said.
       I went into the bathroom that he and I share, and he went with me. I took a leak with him watching, which was nothing new for us, and then I washed my face and put gel in my hair. I actually felt a little better just from doing that. We keep aspirin in the medicine cabinet, and I shook out four and swallowed them. Then I drank a second glass of water. I felt really washed out, and I craved liquids.
       "Here, you drive," I said to Dave, flipping him the keys.
       "Really?" he asked.
       "Yeah. Really," I said.
       He had his learner's permit, but our parents never let him drive much, especially at night. He was thrilled with my letting him drive.
       We walked into Rocky Mountain, and the first person I saw was Jennifer's brother. He's a student at UM, and he was with some other people in a booth. Shit, I thought. He was just about the last person I wanted to see. He saw me right away, but he didn't give any sign of recognition. He's not the friendliest of guys under the best of circumstances, but I figured that if he knew about the baby, he was really pissed off at me.
       Dave and I ordered our meal, and I was in a pretty foul mood. He was chattering on about driving and how awesome it is. He said he can't wait to get his own ride. Boring shit, really. I didn't say anything.
       "What's the matter? Are you still upset about Jennifer?" he asked.
       "YES, I'm still upset about Jennifer. Arrow's sitting in that booth over there," I said.
       "Arrow?" he asked, uncomprehendingly.
       "Yeah. Arrow. Jen's brother," I said.
       "His name is Arrow? What a strange name," he said.
       "Yeah, well, that's his name. He saw me come in, and he didn't smile or wave or anything," I said.
       "Do you think he's mad at you?" he asked.
       "Probably. You may need to get my back on this, okay? You know I'd do the same for you," I said.
       "No problem, Bubba. Maybe he just has a hangover," he said.
       That made me smile. "Very funny," I said.
       The group Arrow was with finished eating, and the waitress had already taken their money. They got up to leave. They had to pass our booth to get out, and I wondered if Arrow would say anything to me.
       "Hi, Chris," he said, rather coldly. "I want to talk to you."
       "Hi, Arrow. Do you know my brother, David?" I asked.
       "How's it going?" he said to Dave.
       "Fine," Dave said.
       "Can we talk?" he asked.
       "Sure. Have a seat," I said.
       Dave scooted over to make room for Arrow. At first it didn't look like he wanted to sit down, but then he did.
       "What's on your mind?" I asked.
       "My sister had a miscarriage today," he said.
       Dave's face lit up in a grin. I was feeling the same way, but Arrow wasn't. I didn't want to appear happy over something he evidently considered a misfortune.
       "I don't know what to say," I said, and I really didn't.
       "Well, I thought you'd want to know. There really isn't anything to say. These things happen all the time, especially with young girls early in pregnancies. You might want to give her a call tomorrow," he said. "Listen, my friends are waiting for me, so I'd better go. Nice to meet you, David."
       "Nice to meet you, too," Dave said.
       When Arrow was gone, Dave and I burst out laughing.
       "Miscarriage? Do you believe that?" Dave asked.
       "Probably not, but at this point, there's nothing anybody can do about it," I said. "Let's put it this way: I don't consider it bad news."
       He laughed. We finished up our meal and went home. Because I had slept for several hours that afternoon, I couldn't get to sleep when I got in bed.
       I thought about the boys in Emerald Beach. They'll never have to deal with pregnant girlfriends, and, somehow, that was very appealing to me.
       The next morning I called Jennifer and told her I was coming over. I didn't ask her; I told her. She wasn't very enthusiastic, but she didn't object, either. I stopped at a grocery store and bought a nice bouquet of flowers to give her. I also wanted to get a card, but I couldn't decide between a get well card and a sympathy card. I ended up just writing, "All my love, Chris," on the little card that came with the flowers. It crossed my mind that "Congratulations" might be the best message I could write, but I didn't know if she was in a state of mind to see the humor in that.
       I didn't know what to expect when I got to Jen's house. Arrow's car wasn't there, and the cars of both her parents were gone, too. That made me relax a little because it meant it would just be her and me. I didn't think it was any more my fault that she had gotten pregnant than it was hers, but you never know how people are going to react to the boy in cases like that. A lot of people think that an eighteen-year-old boy is only capable of thinking and reacting with his dick. If that's how they felt, I would have been in trouble if they had been home.
       Jen seemed fine when she answered the door. She loved the flowers, she said. They were already in a vase of water. She set the vase down in the living room, I guess for the whole family to enjoy. I dunno.
       She got us cokes, and we sat down in the living room to talk. That was unusual. Most of the time we went to her bedroom. In fact, that had been the scene of our lovemaking most of the times we did it. I wasn't sure if talking in the living room meant anything or not.
       "Arrow told me he saw you last night," she started off.
       "Yeah. He told me what happened. That you had a miscarriage. Was it painful?" I asked.
       "Not really. It was like having my period," she said. "I didn't bleed a whole lot more."
       "That's good," I said. That was way more information than I wanted.
       "Yeah," she said. "Chris, do you still want to be my boyfriend?"
       "Well, yeah. Sure," I said.
       "There can't be any more sex," she said. "And I can only go out with you on double dates. No more single dates."
       Ouch! I thought.
       "We could use condoms," I said. "We could still have sex that way, couldn't we? Or, uh, you know. Like, uh, oral sex."
       "No. None. I promised my parents," she said. "No sex. Period."
       "Jen, don't you think that's a little harsh?" I asked.
       "Maybe so, but that's the way it's going to be," she said. "Are you cool with that?"
       No! I thought. Hell, no! I mean, I'm not a sex fiend, but I also am not in love with you and willing to wait years until we get married. I don't even like you all that much. I wanted a girlfriend, and you wanted a boyfriend. That was the deal between us, I thought. There are plenty of girls who'll have sex with me. I know a lot of people think my attitude's wrong, immoral even, but I don't. I'll bet there aren't ten kids in the senior class, except maybe some of the Mormons, who think that what we were doing is immoral. And I don't give a shit about them.
       "Jen, this kind of takes me by surprise," I said.
       "I knew it would, Chris, and if you don't want us to continue seeing each other, I can understand," she said. "I like you a lot, but you know . . . "
       "You're not in love with me, are you?" I asked.
       She paused for a long time, and she must have been thinking about how to let me down easy.
       "No, Chris. I'm not in love with you," she said.
       "Jen, let's stay friends, okay?" I said.
       "Okay. My parents said you'd say that. Do you want to take your flowers with you?" she asked.
       "Of course not. Those are yours. We had some good times together, and, for me at least, the sex was pretty awesome. Thanks, Jen, and I'm really sorry you had to go through all of this," I said.
       "Thank you, too," she said. "I think you'd better leave. My parents are going to be home soon."
       "Okay," I said.
       I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when her parents got home. I can just hear her mom and dad saying, "I told you so." Ironically, I know for a fact that Arrow never asks a girl out a fourth time if he hasn't gotten laid by then.
       I went home and went straight to my room. I immediately deleted all of Jen's email to me and mine to her. I had saved a bunch of Instant Messenger chats that Jen and I had had. Those almost always involved us having cybersex. Some nights, when she wasn't available to chat, I'd reread those and jerk off. Not anymore. She was out of my life.
       That afternoon, I told my parents what had happened. They knew as well as I did that she had gone to Billings to have an abortion, but none of us even mentioned the A word. They took David and me out to dinner and a movie that night, and it was the first time we had done anything like that as a family since I had started dating Jen. The whole issue of the pregnancy and the breakup never came up, and I was glad. They had had their say in the days before that, and they knew I had learned an important lesson.
       I already had prom tickets, and I called Jen and asked her if she wanted them. I thought that was only fair since she had probably already spent a bunch of money on a prom dress. I was going to wear a tux, but mine would be a rental. She said she didn't want the tickets. She was going to the prom, but the guy had already bought tickets. Whatever, I thought.
       I went to the prom with a girl who is a really good friend of mine. We made out a little that night, but there wasn't any real sex involved. I know my days as a heterosexual aren't over, but I made a resolution to wait to have sex until I'm in a real relationship, where we both love each other.
       It was during all of that, and the months that followed it, that David and I became best friends for life. We've been close ever since I moved to Montana, but I got to appreciate and love him more and more after what he and I referred to as "the Jennifer incident."

(David's Perspective)
       I had sort of forgotten how much fun the Emerald Beach guys are, but Chris and I weren't there anytime before it all came back to me. Kyle and Justin are absolutely hilarious, and they keep everybody laughing. Chris thinks those two are gods, I think, especially Kyle. My two buddies are Brian and Tim. Despite having cerebral palsy, or maybe because of it, Chris has turned into a real gym jock, and he's much more like Kyle and Justin than I am. Brian and Tim, on the other hand, are more intellectual and quieter than their partners.
       The biggest physical change is in Brian. He's grown a good three inches in the year since I last saw him, and he's now the tallest of the four. He's not the most muscular, but he's no slouch in that department, either. I guess the things that surprised me most, though, are the size of his penis and the fact that he has hair on his chest. The hair isn't thick or matted, like some guys have, but to me it's really sexy. Kyle is the same way when it comes to chest hair, but his penis is about the same as I remember it from last summer.
       I'm gay, and I'm out to everybody at home, pretty much. I have a great boyfriend that I love a lot. His name is Sean, and he's going to be a senior this coming year. I guess it's a case of opposites attracting because Sean is more like Kyle and Justin than he is like me. He's on the football team. He took some verbal flack when he came out to guys on the team, but that died down after a couple of weeks. The bottom line is, nobody wants to confront Sean or me.
       Chris helped us a great deal with that, too, and he made it very clear that he would have our backs, if we needed him. High school kids can be pretty callous sometimes, but all the people in his class knew that Chris had showed up at that school the first day in a wheelchair. The fact that now he could kick just about any ass in that school didn't matter. He was still "the crippled boy," and that worked to his and our advantage.
       "Brian, the dogs are doing so well," I said.
       He grinned with pride.
       "I know," he said. "Trixie officially belongs to me, and she's moving to New Orleans with us, aren't you, girl?"
       Trixie knew he was talking to her and about her, and she wiggled her butt to show her excitement.
       "Is Krewe going to be okay without Trixie?" I asked.
       "I don't know. I'm a little worried about that. I suspect they'll both go through a period of separation anxiety, but we'll bring Trix back here every time we come home," Brian said. "Krewe isn't as smart as Trixie, and she'll probably get lonesome for her friend at first. And for me. But we can't have her. Krewe belongs here, and she'll get over it," Brian said.
       "Are you excited about moving?" I asked.
       Brian didn't respond right away. He rubbed that little patch of beard stubble right under his bottom lip, like that's what he does to help him think better.
       "Yeah. In a way. In lots of other ways, I think I'm going to be homesick," he said. "I mean, Justin, Kyle, and Tim will be with me, but Kevin and Rick have been the only real parents I've known. I love them, Dave. It's going to be hard to leave."
       "Are you guys going to live in a dorm?" I asked.
       "No. Tim and I are going to one university, and Justin and Kyle are going to another one. We're going to live in an apartment over the garage at Kevin's parents' house. We've stayed in there a bunch of times already on trips, and it's really nice. Plus, we consider Kevin's parents our grandparents, and they consider us their grandsons. We think that'll work out fine," Brian said.
       "I wish I was going to college," I said.
       "Where do you want to go? University of Montana?" Brian asked.
       "NO! If I did that, I'd have to live at home. That's what Chris is doing. My first choice is Stanford. Then Yale and Duke, in that order," I said.
       "Have you got what it takes for those places?" Brian asked.
       "You know about them, don't you?" I asked.
       "Yeah," he said.
       "I probably do, but not necessarily on Early Decision, like you and Tim did at Tulane. It's always a crapshoot. We'll see," I said.
       "What about your boyfriend? What's he going to do?" Brian asked.
       "He wants to play football at a Division II school, and he probably will. Bri, I don't know that he and I are in it for the long haul," I said.
       "I got you," Bri said. "Let's go see what the others are doing."

Chapter 09

(Kyle's Perspective)
       Chris and David Uhle came to town on the Monday a week after the Fourth of July and the day after Jason Taylor went home. I wished they could all have been here for the Fourth because it was such a great celebration, but they couldn't, so we had to make the best of it. We were just glad they were here.
       The first big surprise was Chris. He and I stay in pretty close touch through email and phone calls and whatnot, so I knew he was making progress with his physical therapy and his workouts. After they got working with him, and he started making so much progress, the doctors decided that, yeah, he has cerebral palsy, but it's only about a tenth as bad as they had originally thought. Who knew? If Chris's daddy hadn't set him up with that intensive physical therapy at the University of Montana, or if that boy hadn't had the balls and the grit to work hard at his PT, he might have spent the rest of his life slumped over in a wheelchair. There he came, strutting across the Emerald Beach airport, backpack over his shoulder, limp free. Goddamn!
       We closed in on each other, and we grabbed each other in a monster hug. Chris literally lifted me up off my feet and swung me around a full 360 degrees. I used to lift him up out of his wheelchair and set him on the toilet. I used to lift him up and set him in the bathtub. Now he was twirling me around the airport. My God! And I felt the muscles in that boy's body through our tee shirts. He was a damn telephone pole, his muscles were so hard. He's going to be in a bunch of pictures, that's for sure. I had taken all those ones of him that the UCP had used for fundraising. Well, that was the "before." This trip was going to be the "after."
       Chris and I spent a lot of time talking the week he was here. I already knew all about "the Jennifer incident," as he calls it, but he still wanted to talk about it.
       "You know what the bottom line on the Jennifer incident is, Bubba?" I asked.
       "No, what?"
       "You fucked. And you fucked up, fucking. But I agree with you. You are not 100% to blame. She might have been on the pill and thought she was protected, but you'll never know for sure. You thought you were sterile, but you didn't have real medical evidence that you are. She said you're the daddy, but you didn't have a DNA test. But let's assume you are the daddy and that she had an abortion instead of a natural miscarriage. Does that make you sad? Unhappy? Depressed? Mad?" I asked.
       He grinned wide.
       "No. Just the opposite, I guess. "I'm feeling relieved that I won't have the responsibility of being a father at my age, but I'm really confused about the moral aspect of abortion. If Jen had an abortion, it wasn't my decision, so I can't blame myself on any moral grounds. I still wonder about it, though. I probably would have paid for an abortion, if that's what they wanted me to do," he said
       Chris and I were naked, sitting on the side of the pool when we were talking about that stuff. I reached down and took his balls in my hand. He didn't pull away or resist. He has complete trust in me.
       "I guess these things really do work, after all," I said.
       "If you keep doing that, you're soon going to see how well they do work," he said.
       I laughed, but I let his balls go.
       "Bubba, you got to put the Jennifer incident behind you," I said, and I pushed him into the pool.
       When I got in the water, he jumped me, and we wrestled. Let me tell you something. That boy is as strong as I am, and it was pretty much a dead heat between us. What a difference two years and a million hours of physical therapy can make.
       The week that Chris and David were there was pretty much "juggle week" for some of us. Denny, Murray, and Pete went to work as usual, but me, Tim, and Justin had some juggle room. Poor Brian didn't have any juggle room. He had to be at work from eight to five, and he wanted so bad to be with us, he could taste it. He was already taking Friday off of that week to go camping with us, but he had already made up that day on a Saturday. His boss had been cool with that.
       "Call in sick tomorrow," I said to him one day. We wanted to go to the water park and other local attractions the next day with Chris and Dave.
       "No. I'm not sick. I'm not going to lie, Kyle," he said. "I'm not set up like you guys. I don't get paid by the hour. They'd still have to pay me if I call in sick, and I'm not going to do it."
       "Suit yourself. I mean, I can understand your thinking, but how much time are you going to be able to spend with your Montana brothers?" I asked.
       "I don't know, but I'm not going to lie to get more," Brian said. "So shut up, and stop putting guilt on me."
       You have to admire that in the boy. I don't know if I'd have had that attitude or not, but I sure do admire him for having it.

(Kevin's Perspective)
       We had a lot of fun with Chris and David, and they were both just as at home and at ease with us as they were last summer.
       "Tell us about your boyfriend," Brian asked David one night in the den. We had finished our evening snacks and were just sitting around.
       "What do you want to know?" Dave asked.
       "What's his name?" Brian asked.
       "Sean. Sean McCollum," Dave said.
       Justin lightly kicked Brian, who was sitting on the floor in front of Justin, in the back, when Dave said his boyfriend's name is Sean.
       "Stop it," Brian said to Justin, pretending annoyance. "Not all Seans are the same, you know."
       "I hope not," Justin said.
       "I know what you're talking about, Jus. Kyle told me all about your Sean. Dave's guy doesn't fit any of the stereotypes," Chris said. "He's a real good kid, and I like him a lot. Our whole family does, in fact."
       "Well, that's good to hear," Justin said. "What did you mean by him not fitting the stereotypes?"
       "I meant he doesn't act gay," Chris said.
       "Well, Sean Kelly didn't act gay, either. He acted crazy," Justin said.
       "That's not what I picked up from what Kyle told me," Chris said.
       "Do you think Sean Kelly acted gay?" Justin asked Kyle, rather incredulously.
       "No. No more than I do or you do," Kyle said.
       "What do you mean by stereotypes, Chris?" Brian asked.
       "Well, from what Kyle said, I got the impression that your Sean was out of control when it came to sex. Isn't that one of the gay stereotypes?" Chris asked.
       "Unfortunately it is," I said. "And shows like 'Queer as Folk' tend to reinforce that. That's not the only one that reinforces stereotypes, though. Did any of you see 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy' the other night? A lot of those guys embody gay stereotypes."
       "Brian and I saw it," Tim said.
       "Where was I?" Kyle asked.
       "I think you were in the study working on your pictures with PhotoShop, on the computer," Tim said. "I thought it was pretty funny. Just like that guy on 'Will and Grace' is funny. Jack. His real name is Sean Hayes, by the way, not that that means anything."
       "I'm thinking 'Sean' might be a gay name," Justin said.
       "Bullshit, Justin. Isn't there a Justin on 'Queer as Folk?' If Sean is a gay name, then Justin is, too," Dave said. He was clearly annoyed.
       "Settle down, li'l brother. I was teasing you, man. Don't take offense at nothing I say," Jus said.
       "Sorry, Bubba," Dave said.
       "Dave, Justin really was teasing you, but he gave a very good example in miniature of how stereotypes work. We know of three guys with the name Sean who happen to be gay. Hell, I don't know if that man on TV is gay or not, but he is, in the minds of the viewing public. If some members of a group have a certain characteristic, such as the name Sean, then people begin to assume that everybody with that characteristic is a member of the group. Unless we tell them, most people don't think we're gay," I said.
       "They think I am," Murray said.
       "Why do you think that's true, Bubba?" I asked.
       "Because I'm the way I am. I'm effeminate, and people know I'm gay because of that," Murray said.
       "My physics teacher last year is very effeminate, and he's married with six kids," Chris said.
       "All of us know effeminate men who aren't gay, don't we, guys?" I asked.
       "They say they're not, but maybe they really are," Justin said.
       "That could be, Jus, but I doubt it," I said. "I think the entertainment industry tends to take advantage of effeminate guys to make money, especially in comedy. Do y'all know who Steven Cojocaru is?"
       "That's the guy with the scarecrow hair on 'The Today Show,' ain't it?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah. Well, he's a lot more than that, but that's one way to describe him," I said. "He's very effeminate, but people love him because he's so funny. And so smart, too."
       "He's the one who talks about celebrities and fashion?" Justin asked.
       "Yeah," Kyle said.
       "I know who you're talking about. He IS funny," Jus said. "I like watching him, and I don't even care which ladies' shoes are popular. I'll bet you he'd love to get ole Matt Lauer in the sack."
       We all laughed.
       "You think Matt's gay?" Kyle asked.
       "Hell, no, I don't think Matt's gay. But I tell you what. That Matt is fine, for an old guy," Justin said.
       "Cojocaru is using his effeminacy to make a ton of money," Rick said.
       "He probably shows more gay stereotypes than just about anybody. He has effeminate mannerisms, his speech sounds gay, he loves fashion and shopping. I don't know anything about his personal life, but it wouldn't surprise me if he loves to dress up outrageously, to dance, to go out clubbing, and to do interior decorating. But guess what, guys? Some straight men like to do those things, too," I said. "Not only that, a lot of gay guys don't enjoy those things. Dave, are your gay rodeo buddies like him? Do they like to do those things?"
       "No way," Dave said.
       "But they're gay, aren't they?" I asked.
       "Yes, sir. They say they are, but nobody could tell just from looking at them or talking to them. Most of the guys who are finished with high school work on ranches or drive big trucks for a living," Dave said.
       "The thing is, guys, being gay isn't about the stereotypes. It's about who you love in that special way. I read a little excerpt from Cojocaru's memoirs on the 'Today' website a few months ago when it first came out, and he says in that book that he was made fun of mercilessly when he was a kid in school. Now, the same characteristics that people made fun of him for in school are making him millions.
       "The same is true of Richard Simmons, the exercise guy. He's from New Orleans, and he and my dad went to the same high school. He and my dad weren't in the same grade, but they knew each other. Richard Simmons was picked on quite a bit in school, but now he's a millionaire. Who's laughing now?" I said.
       They were all quiet, but I couldn't tell if they were thinking about what we had been talking about or if they were bored to death.
       "Who wants to go for a swim?" Kyle asked, and they all said they did. They went out to the pool.
       * * *
       The days with Chris and Dave went by all too fast. Before we knew it, it was Friday. We ended the week with a camping trip to Dune Island. It was the height of the tourist season, so we couldn't go to our usual place near the ferry dock. We had to go somewhere nearer to the middle of the island where tourists don't go. It took us two trips in The Clay to get over there on Friday morning, and Kyle had to go back again that afternoon to get Brian, Denny, Murray, and Pete when they got off work. We took the dogs, of course, and they were totally at home in that environment.
       Kyle had made hamburger patties for us the night before out of ground beef and bulk sausage, with a touch of Italian breadcrumbs and ketchup, and he mostly cooked them in the oven at home. When we were in camp, he cooked them the rest of the way on the fire, and those were probably the best hamburgers I have ever had. Kyle cooks with sausage a lot, and it's always excellent.
       "That food was mighty good tonight, Kyle," Rick said.
       We were lying on the beach naked. Kyle had his head on Tim's chest. They looked like they were completely relaxed and totally attuned to each other. It wasn't anything, really, but, at the same time, it was everything a partnered relationship should be.
       "Thanks. I was hoping it would be fit to eat," Kyle said.
       "Well, it was," I said. "More than fit."
       We were all very full, and it was nice to lie in silence on the beach, listening to the crash of the surf and watching the stars in the sky. The lights from the city pollute the night sky at home, but out there on Dune Island the stars are bright. We were facing south, and I don't really know the constellations in that direction all that well. Lying flat on the ground next to Rick, I had a sense of the earth rotating for the first time since I had done that when I was a little boy. The older guys and I had had a couple of drinks before dinner after Kyle came back with Brian and the others, and those, coupled with the wonderful meal, had made me very mellow, indeed.
       I thought about the boys who were spread out around me. It was an incredible assortment. I tried to mentally picture a chart of the relationships among us. In my mind, I pictured a paper chart with all our names written in a circle. The black lines between two people were primary relationships, the blue lines were strong secondary relationships, the red lines were weaker secondary relationships, and the green lines were exploratory relationships. It was mind-boggling.
       In a little while, I felt Rick slip into sleep next to me. It was warm, but the sea breeze that had kicked up that afternoon was still coming in. The dogs were quiet, the boys were quiet, and it was as though we were all united as children of Mother Earth.
       "Did you see that?" Brian asked.
       "What?" Justin asked.
       "That shooting star. Look! There goes another one," Brian said.
       "Oh, cool," Tim said. "That's the first one I've ever seen. I've heard about them all my life, but I had never seen one before just now."
       "There it goes again," Kyle said.
       "Every one is unique, Bubba," Brian said. "They're meteors, and what we see are the trails left by the meteors when our atmosphere heats them to incandescence. It's not the same one every time."
       "What I want to know is, who's jerking off the moon to make all those shooting stars? And where is he, anyway?" Justin asked.
       We all laughed, including Rick, who must have only been dozing.
       "Buddy, you're not serious, are you?" Brian asked, with concern in his voice.
       "Of course not, Little Buddy. I know they don't come from the moon. They come from the sun," Justin said.
       "Justin, we have to have a serious talk about this," Brian said. "I don't know that much about astronomy, but . . ."
       "Brian, he knows," Tim said. "He just got you last, man."
       "Darn!" Brian said, and we all roared with laughter. Justin and Brian almost never do that to each other, but Brian was so cute in the way he reacted.
       "Have y'all digested enough to do some playing?" Kyle asked. "Volleyball or charades?"
       "Charades," we all said in one voice.
       "Okay. Rick and I are the captains. We'll pick up teams," Kyle said.
       That was Friday night on the island. The rest of the weekend went more or less the same way. We ate, we played in the water, we played on the beach, and we spent private time with our partners, those of us who have partners, at least. We were nude the whole time, and it was truly a pristine paradise.
       There were a couple of instances of brotherly disagreements, just as there are at home, but none of them ever came to blows. With the exception of Kyle's body-slamming Justin into the wall outside our bedroom the first Sunday morning Jus was with us, none of the kids have ever gotten into physical altercations, that I know of, at least. They argue and fight sometimes, as brothers will do, but, by and large, they get along well. I hope Denny and Murray are learning how to lead from Kyle and Justin because Rick and I will be counting on them to replace Kyle and Justin, once those two move to New Orleans.
       * * *
       "You guys have charged my batteries again," Dave said to me on Sunday morning. It was early, and he and I were the only ones in the kitchen.
       "Good," I said. "I hope you'll come back next summer, or sooner," I said.
       "I'd like to live here," Dave said.
       "Well, it won't be the same pretty soon," I said. I got tears in my eyes.
       "I know," he said. "But, Kevin, it will be. You and Rick made them. Or enabled them, anyway. And you guys will continue to do that. I just know it."
       "I hope so, Dave. I don't know how Rick and I are going to stand them going off, though. It's going to be so hard," I said.
       "They're not leaving. They're just going away for school," Dave said.
       "I know, but they won't know the new guys and all. I mean . . . I don't know," I said.
       "I can understand, Kevin. I really can," Dave said.
       * * *
       We put Chris and Dave on the plane to South Florida, and then we hustled home to see our Big Four off to New Orleans. They had packed up a lot of their stuff, and they were taking it to their new home. The backs of Kyle's Land Cruiser and Justin's pickup truck were full. We tied a tarp over the back of the pickup in case they encountered rain, which they almost certainly would. We had sorted the stuff carefully, putting the things that would get messed up most by rain in Kyle's truck.
       They weren't leaving for good. They were just going over there so Tim and Brian could attend the orientation at Tulane and so Kyle and Justin could register at UNO. They would be back in a couple of days, but it seemed like it was a dress rehearsal for when they would leave our home for good. Rick and I both lost it as we told them goodbye.
       "Why are you crying? We're not leaving yet," Kyle said.
       "I know, but it's the first step, man. You're taking most of your shit," Rick said through his tears.
       "Do you want us to leave it here?" Kyle asked.
       "No. Of course not. What y'all are doing is the right thing," Rick said.
       "Rick, we'll be back Wednesday, man," Kyle said.
       "I know you will be," Rick said. "I'm just being too emotional about this. Y'all have a safe trip."
       Rick wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.
       "Bye, Bubba. See you Wednesday," Kyle said, and he kissed Rick on the cheek.
       They took Trixie with them. Brian said he wanted her to get used to their new digs, but he also wanted Krewe to get used to being without him and Trixie. We had Krewe on a leash when we were outside telling them goodbye, and Murray was holding the leash. When the two vehicles left, Krewe took off running, and Murray couldn't hold her back. The leash slipped out of his hand.
       Krewe ran down the street, ninety to nothing, but, of course, she couldn't keep up with the two cars. When the cars were out of sight, she came home, panting and walking slowly. It was as though she knew that they were moving out. She had what I took to be a sorrowful look on her face. Her boys were gone, and they had taken her partner with them.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       Saying goodbye to Chris was very hard for me. I didn't know when I'd ever see him again. He said he wants to come visit us in New Orleans, but people say that kind of stuff all the time without really meaning it.
       "Let's set a date," I said.
       "Kyle, we can't. I don't know what school's going to be like, and I also don't know when we can afford it," Chris said.
       "Afford it? I'll buy the fucking tickets, man," I said.
       "We can't let you buy our tickets, Kyle," Chris said. "That wouldn't be right, man."
       "Chris, I can afford it. I have the money," I said.
       "Yeah, but that's your money," Chris said. "You earned it."
       "Christopher Uhle, you have never impressed me as being a dumb boy. In fact, just the opposite. I think you're pretty smart, so let's examine this thing logically, okay? I've got money, and it belongs to me. I can spend it any way in the world I want to, including giving it away to a total stranger if I want to, to make myself happy. Right? Are you with me so far?" I asked.
       "Kyle, I know what you're going to say," Chris said.
       "No, you don't. Shut up. Okay? So. I got this money to spend to make me happy. One of the things that makes me the happiest is having two bum-fuck rodeo cowboys from Montana come see me. I don't know why that makes me happy, but it does. They're both ugly as shit, but there's no accounting for taste. Whatever the reason, it makes me happy to spend time with them. Iono. So, to make myself happy, I spend money on airline tickets so they can come visit me to make me happy. That's the way it is," I said.
       "Kyle, you are such a bullshit artist," Chris said.
       "I know I am, Chris, but I'm not bullshitting right now, okay? I really do mean that. I'm rich, Chris. I've never said that to you before, and I probably won't ever say it to you again, but it's true. I've got just a whole lot of money that I've inherited. The cost of sending your asses around the world ten times wouldn't even put a dent in what I've got. Hauling your asses from Missoula, Montana, to New Orleans is a spit in the bucket, man. And I'm serious," I said.
       "I understand, Kyle. Now. I'm going to have to get back to you about the dates, though," he said.
       "Yeah. You got to find out about tests and such. And that might be a problem for one or more of us, too. But we'll work it out," I said. "Bottom line, though, bro, y'all are coming for Mardi Gras. You got to see that."
       I gave him the dates, and he said he'll be there. He couldn't speak for Dave, but he'll get with him about it.
       * * *
       We left for New Orleans right after lunch on Sunday. It's about a five-hour drive, maybe a little bit more, depending on traffic, but we would get there before dark. That would give us a chance to unload the two trucks while it was still daylight.
       Craig and Cherie and Rob were at Grandma and Grandpa's house, waiting for us. They had Beach with them, and she and Trixie had a grand reunion.
       It had just been a couple of weeks since we had seen them on the Fourth, but I noticed a bunch of changes in Rob. He was walking way better, for one thing, and he called the puppy "Beesh," instead of "Be," like he had at our house, and you just knew Beesh was his playmate and friend. They were so cute together. Two little puppies, really.
       Beach licked Rob on the face, though, and I didn't like that.
       "I saw it, Kyle. I'll break her of that this week," Brian said.
       I licked Brian on the face, and he laughed.
       "You are so gross," Bri said. "That's the second time you've done that to me."
       "See what I mean?" I asked. "You have no idea where this tongue of mine has been, do you?"
       "I know, Bubba. I know," Brian said, laughing.
       For the first time ever, Rob recognized me, and he called me Ky. KY! Shit, I blubbered all over the damn place when he said that. He ran to me. Oh, my God! Ky! He could say "mama" and "da-da" real clear, and he called Grandma, "gram" and Grandpa, "gramp." He was definitely learning fast.
       Craig and Grandpa helped us move our stuff into the apartment. The stairs are pretty steep, and I made sure I was right behind Grandpa every time he took up a load. I had a load myself, of course, but I was ready to drop all of it in a heartbeat, even a computer, if it looked like he was going to fall or something. He never missed a step, though. He must be in pretty damn good shape for a fifty-eight-year-old man.
       Sunday night we had a family party, of course. I mean, it wasn't a party in the sense that we invited other people over, but there was some very good food and lots of laughing and fun. We got to talking about Tim and Brian's orientation. They had to be there at nine o'clock the next morning for orientation to Tulane College. That's when it got complicated.
       Turns out, Tim and Brian are going to Tulane College, which is just a part of Tulane University. Grandma and Cherie went to Newcomb College, which is the girls' part of Tulane University. Tulane College is all boys, and Newcomb College is all girls. But they're all in the same classes together. And they live in the same dormitories. I don't get it, but I don't have to. I guess they have it all figured out.
       * * *
       The next morning we got up at seven o'clock. We were in our apartment, and we didn't yet have a bite to eat up there. We had a key to the main house, and the entry code to the security system, so we went down there and let ourselves in.
       On the table was this note:

   Dear boys,
           Ed and I had a great time last night with all of you, and we are so excited about your moving here that we can hardly stand it. There are precooked bacon and sausage in the cold-cut tray in the refrigerator, and please make yourselves eggs and toast and anything else you want for breakfast. I don't cook, but we'll work it out so that we eat together from time to time. We love you boys, and we are so happy you'll be living here.
           Love,
           Grandma Beth

       "Did y'all see this?" I asked, as I passed the note to Tim.
       He read it and passed it on.
       "Let's get busy," I said.
       We made us a very big breakfast, and we were going to need it, too. We had a lot to do, that day and the day after.
       * * *
       "So. I take it that it was a successful trip?" Kevin asked Wednesday night after we got home.
       "I'd say it was for Kyle. Rob knows his name and can almost say it. That ain't true for the rest of us," Justin said.
       "You don't know Kyle's name?" Denny asked, quick as lightning.
       "Shut up," Justin said, and we all laughed. "I meant, Rob doesn't know our . . ."
       "I knew what you meant," Denny said, "in the seconds before I got you last."
       We laughed, and I think that might have been a first.
       "You stepping out to play with the big dawgs, Denny?" Justin asked.
       "Maybe," Denny said. "Will you let me play, Jus?"
       Justin laughed. I know he really likes Denny, and they were cute sparring together.
       "I don't know about you, Denny," Justin said. "I think you might be too smart for your own britches, Bubba."
       "I doubt that," Denny said.
       * * *
       I get very bored very easy at work. I mean, a lot of what we do is just hanging around waiting for a call for room service or a bell to help somebody check in or out. Tim is content to read books, and I read some, too. But that really bores me. I need human contact.
       Somebody was hitting the bell at the desk. That meant they needed one of us. I jumped up to see what it was all about. The one hitting the bell was Mr. Rooney.
       "Kyle, I need a runner. Can you do it?" he asked.
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       "I need you to take this package to the Goodson Building," he said. "Will you do that?"
       "Yes, sir. I'm glad to do it," I said. "I'll do anything you tell me to do."
       Shit, I would have taken it to Alaska to get out of that place that afternoon. It was so dull, I couldn't stand it.
       "It goes to Kevin's office," he said.
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       I hauled butt to get out of there. I told Tim where I was going, and he told me to have a good time. He was reading some muscle-ass book about the economy, or some shit like that, and he was cool. That book would have put me to sleep on page two, but he likes that kind of stuff. I didn't ask him about the book because I really didn't want to know.
       I took the package up to Kevin's office. I was in my uniform, and I had my badge displayed the way we're required to do it, so the security people didn't challenge me. They didn't search the package, either, which I thought was probably a mistake. It had a GE seal across the regular envelope seal, though, so maybe that was why. I didn't know.
       I got through the receptionist on the strength of my uniform and badge, and then I went into Miss Mary Ann's office. Finally, somebody recognized me and knew who I was. She was all over me with hugs and kisses.
       "Can I get you something? Water? Juice? Coffee?" she asked.
       "No, ma'am. I just need to give this thing to Kevin," I said.
       "Well, go on in. He's on the phone, but . . .," and then she shrugged.
       I opened the door to his office, and his face lit up. He was happy to see me. He pointed to the sofa across from his desk, and I sat down.
       "When, Tyrone?" Kevin asked.
       When I heard that, I knew we were fixing to get us a new brother. That was very cool with me, and I'm sure my face lit up.
       "Kyle Goodson just walked into my office, and he heard me ask you that. I wish you could see the look on his face," Kevin said.
       Pause.
       "I know. Of course, the four older guys are going to be leaving pretty soon for college, but we'll manage. So, bring him over this afternoon. Rick and I get home around 5:30. Is that too late for you?"
       Pause.
       "Good. We'll see you then," Kevin said, and then he hung up. "Hey, Bubba. What's up?"
       "Mr. Rooney told me to bring this over to you," I said, handing him the package.
       "What is it?" Kevin asked.
       "I don't know. He didn't say, and it's sealed up. Why don't you open it?" I asked.
       Kevin felt it.
       "Naw. I know what it is. It's his business plan. They're not even due until next week," Kevin said. "He's got the eager-beaver syndrome. He could have just put it in the courier for me."
       "Well, I'm glad he didn't. It gave me a chance to get out. I was bored to death in that place," I said.
       "Well, you and I can have a little visit. That was Tyrone Williams on the phone. He's got another boy for us. He's going to bring him around this afternoon," he said. "This one is actually a local. His name is Brink Johnson. Do you know him?" Kevin asked.
       "Oh, hell yeah, I know Brink. Does he know about the gay part?" I asked.
       "He knows," Kevin said.
       "So is Brink gay?" I asked.
       "He says he is, and he should know, don't you think?" he asked.
       "Yeah, I reckon he should," I said. "I'm a little surprised, is all."
       "He came out to his parents at the start of the summer, and he's been living with his grandparents most of the time since then. Now the grandparents want him gone," Kevin said.
       "Explain this to me, Kevin. How can parents just say to a kid, 'We don't want you anymore,' and suddenly the kid has to go to foster care? I'm not talking about how they can do it emotionally. I'm talking about how they can do it legally. I mean, don't get me wrong. Brink Johnson is a great guy, and y'all are going to love him. But don't his parents have a legal responsibility to take care of him?" I asked.
       "Tyrone and I talked about that one time because Rick and I had the same kinds of questions. Brian's a perfect example of that. His parents just told him to leave," Kevin said. "According to Tyrone, the state has the legal and moral obligation to protect a kid. If parents absolutely don't want their own kid anymore, then that kid's in danger. A lot of times there's a history of abuse or neglect. Not always, and I don't know if that's the case with Brink or not. But if they waited until the kid was abused before they did anything, how bad would that be?"
       "I see your point. So they just sent Brink to his grandparents?" I asked.
       "Well, actually, I think they might have kicked him out, and he went there because he didn't have any other place to go," Kevin said.
       "You know who that family is, don't you?" I asked.
       "No. What do you know about them?" Kevin asked.
       "They own about ten radio stations on the Emerald Coast, from here to Pensacola," I said. "And a whole bunch of rental property, too. We're not talking about poor people here, Kevin. These people are rich."
       "You expect people with money to be a little bit more enlightened than that, don't you?" Kevin said.
       "Maybe so, but evidently these ones aren't," I said. "His dad is a country singer. He's got a band that plays at some of these clubs around here, and he's recorded several albums, too. Or at least he used to have a band. I guess he still does."
       "Are they friends of your parents?" Kevin asked.
       "Not really. They know 'em, but they're not really friends. Mr. Johnson's on his fourth wife, and that kind of thing don't really go over that big with my parents and their friends," I said. "I don't think Brink's got any brothers or sisters, or, if he does, the daddy don't have custody of anybody but Brink."
       "Now that you mention it, Tyrone did say he's been staying with his step-grandparents. So they must be his stepmom's people," he said. "They're really not Brink's flesh and blood, so that makes a little more sense."
       "How old is Brink? About fifteen?"
       "He's sixteen, and evidently he's been dating an older guy" Kevin said. "And the guy's his stepuncle. His stepmother's younger brother."
       "Whoa! This is complicated. Is the law going to go after the stepuncle?" I asked.
       "I asked that same question, but evidently the boyfriend isn't that much older than Brink, and he joined the army. So he's out of the picture, now. Tyrone said that typically if the younger party is at least sixteen, they look the other way unless his or her parents insist they prosecute. So, apparently, that's not an issue," Kevin said.
       "Yeah, but what about the incest?" I asked.
       "I don't think they consider stepuncles being with stepnephews incest. Plus, that assumes they were having sex, which we don't really know. Anyway, though, it's a complicated mess, for sure. But Brink's coming this afternoon, and we're going to welcome him as our new brother, now, aren't we?" Kevin said, grinning.
       "You know we are, Bubba. By the way, I know not to tell all this stuff about Brink to the little boys, but is it okay if I tell the big boys?" I asked.
       "Why don't you wait a while to do that, like maybe until after y'all go off to school," Kevin said.
       "Go off to school."
       That doesn't sound as harsh as, "Leave home," and I like that way of putting it much better. That's the way I'm going to think about it. We're just going off to school. We'll be back.
       * * *
       That afternoon Mr. Tyrone showed up with Brink Johnson. Brink was absolutely scared to death, but his eyes lit up a little bit when he saw me and Tim and Brian. He also knows Denny and Murray from school, so he calmed down pretty quick.
       "Are you in foster care, too?" Brink asked me, as soon as we could get away from the grown-ups to show him the place.
       "No. I'm nineteen years old. Tim, Justin, and I just live here because this is our family. It's kind of a long story, but Tim and I have parents in the area. You'll meet 'em. They're over here all the time. Justin is twenty, but he used to be a foster kid. Now he just lives here. He and Brian are a couple," I said.
       "And you and Tim are, too, right?" he asked.
       "Right. Look, don't be scared, okay, man? You've come to a very happy home, and you're going to be very happy here. The four of us are fixing to leave for school in about three weeks, but we'll be back plenty, that's for sure. Denny, Murray, and Pete are great guys, and you'll love 'em, but you'll especially love Kevin and Rick. They don't come any better than those two guys, Brink," I said.
       "Did you know I'm gay?" Brink asked.
       "Nope. I didn't have a clue," I said.
       "Good," he said.
       "Let me tell you something, son. I know where you're coming from with that, but around here being gay is what's normal. You've come to a totally different world than you ever knew before, and I mean it. You won't see any rainbow flags or any of that shit around here. What you'll see is a group of gay men living a very ordinary, a very normal, a very masculine life together. There's a lot of love in this place, Brink, and I don't mean sex. I mean pure love. We just happen to be gay," I said.
       "Kyle, I think you and I come from similar kinds of families, to a point. I mean, as far as the money is concerned, at least. I've always had everything I wanted except one thing," he said.
       "What's that?" I asked.
       "Love," he said.
       "Well, you've come to the right place for that," I said.

Chapter 10

(Kevin's Perspective)
       Tyrone Williams drove up that Friday afternoon shortly after Rick and I, and the other guys, had gotten off work. Who drove up behind him was Brink Johnson, our new foster son. He was in a four-door Ford pickup that had one of those short, covered beds. That was an impressive vehicle Brink was driving.
       We ushered Brink and Tyrone in. Brink might have an impressive vehicle, but the poor kid was scared to death. And it was written all over his face.
       Brink is average size, 5'8", 5'9", something like that. He probably weighs somewhere between 140 and 160 pounds, lean but not skinny. He has brown hair and brown eyes, and he's a pretty handsome guy in the face department. He was wearing the Emerald Beach uniform -- khaki shorts and a white tee shirt with some kind of image or logo in the upper-left pectoral muscle area. His clothes were clean but rumpled. He had on deck shoes without socks, of course, and he was wearing a baseball cap. In short, he was dressed exactly like our boys dress for just about everything but work.
       "Hey, Brink," Kyle said. He stepped forward and shook Brink's hand. "Welcome home, Bubba."
       It was actually a pretty cute scene. Brink obviously knew Kyle, and the terror that marked Brink's face seconds before melted away. Leave it to Kyle.
       "Hey," Brink said, taking Kyle's hand for a shake. "Do you live here?"
       "Yeah. This is my home, man. You know Tim, don't you? And Brian? This is Justin, Brian's partner. These are Denny, Murray, and Pete. Since you're the newest boy, you have to do all the work around here," Kyle said.
       I could tell Brink really didn't believe Kyle, or, at least, he wanted not to.
       "He's teasing you, Brink," I said. "Everybody here is equal, but this stinker probably does twice as much work around here as anybody else." I indicated Kyle.
       "I know how to work," Brink said.
       "Well, you're fixing to take over, Bubba," Kyle said. "Are you going to get to keep your ride?"
       "I guess. I mean, it's in my name and all," Brink said. "Do I, Mr. Williams?"
       "Yeah. You'll probably need it," Tyrone said. "Kevin and Rick are the boss of you, so they're the boss of your ride, too, but you can keep it."
       "Come on. Let us show you around," Kyle said, and he and the kids went off with Brink. Brink was petting the dogs, getting to know them, as Kyle and the others led him outside.
       "Kevin and Rick, I've only spent a few hours with Brink, so I don't really know him all that well. I doubt you'll have any trouble with him, though. He comes from an affluent family, as you can probably tell, although I don't think they're first stringers in the Emerald Beach social hierarchy. He obviously knows some of your boys already, and that's a big plus. I think you'll find him to be a leader in the house," Tyrone said. "At least eventually."
       "Kyle knows him pretty well, Tyrone, and he told me some stuff about Brink earlier today. He'll be fine here," I said.
       "I have no doubt of that, Kevin. The real problem at home isn't his daddy. It's his stepmother. Brink was dating her younger brother, as I told you, and I think that was the source of the friction. She apparently had a fit when she found out that Brink and her brother were boyfriends, and she gave Mr. Johnson the ultimatum that either Brink goes or she does. It's not really an issue anymore with the brother because he's now in the army, but she doesn't want Brink back in the house," Tyrone said.
       "Was Brink physically abused by his father?" I asked.
       "Not that we know of, but there was quite a bit of emotional abuse by the stepmother. She's only twenty-five, and she's not a very stable person, psychologically. She doesn't have much education, either. I don't think Mr. Johnson married her for her mind, if you get my drift. This is the kind of case where Brink might be able to move home in a few weeks, if his dad kicks the stepmother out, or he may never be able to move home. It's impossible to call," Tyrone said.
       "Well, he can stay here for the duration," Rick said. "You know that."
       "Yeah, I do, Rick, but thanks for reminding me," Tyrone said.
       We executed the usual paperwork, and Brink became, thereby, our newest son.
       * * *
       Brink fit in faster and better than any of the other ones had. He's Emerald Beach to the core, and he knows the grumble as well as Kyle does. I sense that Brink has a lot of the qualities Kyle had brought to the house. Kyle set about teaching Brink how to cook and how to plan parties. Brink has the look and feel of an Alpha Male, at least as far as the boys in the house are concerned, and it's pretty obvious Kyle sees Brink as his successor.
       Brink didn't have a job, so I put him to work at one of the motels that already had one pool boy. That made him the second pool boy, so the General Manager of the place quickly made him the beach boy, a position they had not previously had. Evidently, he had been working for his father helping to manage rental property, but that job was over.
       The difference between Brink and Brian, when Brian first came to us, say, is remarkable. Brink has a vehicle, and it's a nice, new one. It's fully paid for, and the registration is in his name. He has a laptop computer that he brought with him, a cell phone, and a very full wardrobe. In lots of ways, Brink's a Kyle who actually needs us for shelter. As far as I can tell, that's about the only difference between the two.

(Brink's Perspective)
       I had decided I wasn't going to tell my daddy I'm gay. What was the point? He's gone from home most nights from March till Labor Day, and I didn't really see all that much of him. He has a band, and they play somewhere almost every night in the tourist season. Shelly, his wife, is always out with him.
       During the rest of the year, they're home most nights, except weekends, when his band has gigs. The off-season is when he pays attention to the radio stations. Otherwise, my uncle takes care of them. It's very much a family business.
       My dad married Shelly when I was in the ninth grade. My real mom was long gone, living in Oregon or someplace like that, and Shelly became Mom Number Four for me. That was fine with me. Shelly was young, like twenty-two, when she married my dad, but I could see how he would like her. I already knew by then that I'm gay, but I could still tell if a girl's hot and pretty. And Shelly is both.
       After about a year, Shelly's brother had to move in with us. He was eighteen years old at the time, a high school dropout, and he didn't have anyplace else to go. I figured out from the get-go that he's gay because of the way he looked at me and such, but he wasn't "out." His name is Cory Mathers, and I liked him immediately. I was fifteen, and there's almost three years' difference in age between us. But that didn't stop us from becoming good friends. Best friends, even.
       Cory grew up in Georgia, just like Shelly did, and he really didn't have any friends in Emerald Beach. He found a part-time job at a sandwich shop on the beach, but my dad never put him to work in his company. I don't know why. He let me work there during the summer, though. I heard Dad and Shelly talking about it one time, and I heard my dad say he thought Cory was trifling and that he wasn't going to work him until he finished high school. I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I guess it meant he didn't want Cory working for his company.
       When Cory came to live with us, he had an old, beat-up pickup truck. He had to spend a lot of time working on it to keep it running, and I was usually right there with him, watching and helping. One time Cory was under the truck with just the bottom half of his body sticking out. He had on real old jeans with holes in the knees, and the material was so worn that I could clearly see the outline of his dick through it.
       I don't know why, but I got a sudden, uncontrollable urge to touch him there through his jeans. I got down on the garage floor with my legs crossed. My own dick was already very hard, and I adjusted it to make it more comfortable. Then, with just the index finger of my right hand, I outlined the shape of his penis. He had to know what was going on and that I was the one doing it. I mean, nobody else was even home but him and me.
       I didn't know how Cory would react to what I was doing. I didn't think he'd beat me up or anything, but I didn't know if he'd like me doing that to him. He didn't say anything, though. In fact, he stopped working and just lay there. He got hard in just a few seconds, and that made me braver. I started rubbing what I thought was the underside of his dick with the flat of my palm. He moaned a little, but he didn't say anything. Then, in a matter of just a couple of minutes, he came. I could feel his dick stiffen and sort of move up tighter against my hand. Cory thrust into my hand a few times, and then the tell-tale wetness started spreading on the front of his jeans. I had been rubbing myself with my left hand while I was doing that to him, and then I came, too.
       Nothing was said about it by either of us. Cory went back to work doing whatever it was he was doing, and I continued to hand him tools when he asked for them. Neither of us went inside to change out of our wet jeans, and we worked for at least another hour.
       "Thanks," Cory said, when he finally crawled out from under the truck. "For everything."
       I'm sure I blushed when he said that. That was the first time I had ever done anything remotely sexual with another guy, and I was pretty nervous about what might happen next. If Cory is gay, I thought, does he like me like a boyfriend? I like him enough to be a boyfriend, and it'll sure be convenient, if that's the way it works out.
       "I'm thirsty, are you?" Cory asked. "Let's have a beer."
       It was a Saturday afternoon a couple of days after New Year's. I had had a few drinks that Cory had made for me during the Christmas holidays, but that was all the drinking I had ever done. We always had beer in the refrigerator in the garage, and there was always other kinds of booze in the liquor cabinet in the house. My dad likes to have a drink when he comes home from work, and I also know that he has drinks when his band is playing in bars and whatnot. I've never actually seen him drunk, but alcohol was a part of our home.
       "Okay," I said.
       I got two beers from the spare refrigerator that's out there, and I twisted off the cap before I handed Cory's to him. Then Cory opened the passenger door of his truck, and I knew he was fiddling with something in the glove compartment. What he was doing was getting a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
       "I didn't know you smoke," I said. I was pretty surprised when he lit one up.
       "I really don't. At least not regular. But I like to have one when I drink beer. Do you want one?" he asked.
       I had smoked a few before, so I took one. He handed me his lighter, and I fired mine up, too.
       We smoked and drank our beers in silence for a few minutes.
       "You're gay, aren't you?" Cory asked me.
       I had pretty much fully accepted that fact about myself a long time ago, but I had never actually told it to anybody. When he asked me that question, a kind of nervous chill went through my whole body. I probably could have lied and said something like, "No, I was just trying to brush some dirt off you back there." But what was the point?
       "Yeah. I think I am," I said.
       Saying that actually wasn't all that bad, and I did sort of feel relieved that somebody else knew, somebody I really, really liked.
       "Me, too," he said. "Are you out to anybody?"
       "Just to you, as of right now," I said.
       "Same with me. Just to you," he said. "Did you get off, too, when I did?"
       I nodded sheepishly.
       "Good," he said. "That felt really good, Brink. Nobody's ever done anything like that to me before. Thanks, man."
       We had finished our cigarettes by then. Cory set his beer bottle down on the workbench, and he gently took mine away from me and set it next to his. Then he moved toward me, took me into his arms, and we kissed. I had kissed a few girls before then, so I kind of knew what to do with my tongue, and all. Cory must have done the same thing because that kiss was hot. In fact, in no time at all, both of us were hard just from kissing, and I could feel my dick rub against his through our jeans.
       I had on a flannel shirt without a tee shirt under it, and Cory unbuttoned my shirt for me. He dipped his head down and started sucking one of my nipples. That sensation was overwhelming. I mean, I had seen pictures of guys doing that, but I had never imagined it would feel that good. It felt so good, in fact, that I shot another load in my jeans. I put my hands under his tee shirt and lifted it over his head. I worked his nipple the same way he had worked mine, and he came again, too.
       "Whoa!" he said, when he was done.
       "I know," I said.
       The old cum in my jeans was cold and clammy by then, but the fresh, hot load felt really good. We had another beer and another cigarette each.
       "Should we tell?" I asked.
       "Tell who? Tell what?" he asked.
       "About us. That we're both gay," I said. "Tell Shelly and Dad."
       He got real serious when I said that.
       "I don't see the point. Brink, I'm going to level with you, buddy. I've had a major crush on you since I've been here, and I can't tell you the number of times I've jerked off in my bedroom thinking about you. I want to be your boyfriend, and I want us to keep on having sex. But we're already best friends, and we already do almost everything together. Their bedroom is way the hell off in East Jerusalem on the first floor, and, as far as I know, neither one of them ever comes up to the second floor where we are. To tell you the truth, I really don't trust my sister to be understanding. Your dad? Yeah, no problem. I mean, from what I understand, half his band is gay, and he's got a lot of gay friends. But underneath that pretty exterior, my sister's a redneck bitch when it comes to homosexuality, and that's the truth," he said.
       I thought about that for a few seconds.
       "I've got a confession to make, too," I said. "I've thought about you every time I've jerked off since I met you, and I want to be your boyfriend. And you're right. There's no reason we have to tell. Cory, I feel so damn good right now, I can hardly stand it."
       "I know. Me too. Let's go get a shower and go out on our first official date. You want to?" he asked.
       "Yeah, let's take that shower together," I said, grinning.
       "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said.
       * * *
       That's the way it started between us. Our bedrooms were upstairs, and there was a bathroom between the two. That made it easy for us to get back and forth, and we slept with each other every night. We alternated rooms so the maid wouldn't get suspicious if she noticed one bed always had fresh sheets on it, but otherwise, on the surface at least, everything was the same. Or so I thought.
       Cory got into a GED program. He had quit high school at the end of his junior year, so he already had all of the basic reading, writing, and math skills he needed to pass that test. Plus, he was pretty smart. He went to GED prep classes at the local adult school for a few hours every morning, and then he went to work at the sandwich shop. He took the GED test in a couple of months and passed it easily.
       Sometimes he had to work a double, which was good because of the money he made doing that, but that wasn't so often that it interfered with our lovemaking. Most nights he'd get home around 7:30. We'd shower together to get the restaurant smell off him, and then we'd watch TV or play video games or just snuggle and talk. We didn't really see that much of Dad and Shelly, but now and then we'd go out for dinner "as a family."
       Every night, Cory and I would have sex. We started out with just kissing and rubbing against each other and jerking each other off, but gradually, over the next few months, we got into oral sex and even anal sex. I was in love with that boy, and I got to a point where I couldn't imagine my life without him. We knew about safe sex, and we always practiced it.
       One Saturday afternoon, it was just me and my dad downstairs in the den. We were watching a movie he had rented. Cory was at work, and Shelly was in Destin, shopping at the outlet center with the girlfriend of one of the guys in my dad's band. He picked up the remote and stopped the movie. Then he hit the mute button for the TV. I looked at him, not knowing what was going on.
       "Piss break?" I asked.
       "No. Brink, do you have any gay friends, Son?" he asked, out of the blue.
       "I, uh, I, uh, don't know, Daddy," I said.
       I was all but paralyzed with fear about where this conversation might be going.
       "I do, you know? Quite a few, in fact. I'll bet you probably do and don't even know it," he said.
       "Yes, sir. Probably," I said. I didn't like this AT ALL.
       "Have you ever heard of the concept of gaydar, Son?" he asked.
       I had, but I wasn't about to admit it.
       "No, sir," I said.
       "Well, it's kind of like radar for gays. It's the ability to tell if someone is gay without them telling you in words," he said. "A lot of people think only gay people have it, but when you've spent as much time in the company of gay guys as I have over the years, you develop it pretty good."
       I didn't say anything because I didn't know what to say.
       "The thing is, Brink, I just want you to know, Son, that if, down the road, it turns out you're gay or bisexual, it won't be a bit of a problem for me. I'll always love you and respect you. And if you do turn out to be gay, and you find a partner that you care about, he'll always be welcome and respected in this house by me.
       "Now, Shelly's a little bit of a different story, I think. If it turns out that you and, say, Cory, are both gay and in love, I doubt that your stepmama could handle that. She'd have to accept you, if she wanted to stay married to me, but I don't think she could take it, if her brother is gay," he said.
       The emotions and the confusion that were running through me just then were almost overwhelming. On one hand, I felt totally liberated and overjoyed that my dad felt the way he did. On the other hand, I was scared and panicked over how Shelly might feel about Cory. It was pretty clear to me that my dad knew, and that was a load off my shoulders. I did what any self-respecting gay boy does under those circumstances. I started to cry.
       "Are we that obvious, Daddy?" I asked.
       He snuggled me to him in a hug.
       "No, Son. Not at all. But, like I said, I've had years to develop gaydar," he said.
       "Daddy, I love you so much," I said.
       "I know you do, and I love you, too. I think the way you and Cory have been doing around Shelly has been just fine. She doesn't suspect a thing. Just be careful around her, okay? I saw y'all groping each other in the kitchen the other day. Now that kind of stuff is perfectly natural and perfectly normal for two guys in love. Y'all were just playing and being affectionate, and straight couples do shit like that all the time. But Shelly wouldn't understand that," he said.
       "Yes, sir. I hear you," I said.
       "Good," he said. "Are y'all going out tonight?"
       "Yes, sir. We're supposed to go to a movie," I said.
       "Why don't you stop by the club after the movie and hear your old man sing?" he said.
       "Uh . . ."
       He laughed.
       "I know. You don't like country music. Goddamn! How could I have raised a boy who doesn't like country music? I'm a failure as a parent," he said, and we both laughed.
       "It's not that I don't like country music, Daddy. I just don't like the way you sing it," I said.
       He busted up laughing.
       "You little shit. Let's finish watching this thing," he said, referring to the movie we had been watching.
       When I told Cory about that conversation later that evening, we both ended up in tears. They were tears of happiness over my dad's attitude, but they were also tears of fear and sadness over Shelly's.
       "He's right, you know. Did you know she was married before?" he asked.
       "Yeah. When she was real young, or something, right?" I asked.
       "Yeah. When she was sixteen. And he was gay," Cory said. "She felt betrayed big time. Our parents were violently opposed to the marriage from the start because of her age, but she didn't need their permission. They ended up getting it annulled. Ironically, I feel like I could come out to them, and they'd be okay with it. By the way, did you know they're moving here? Next month."
       "No. You hadn't told me that," I said.
       "It must have slipped my mind. I got on their shit list big time when I dropped out of high school, but, now that I got my GED and everything, I think things are going to be okay with them. I hope so, anyway. You're going to like 'em, and they're going to like you, too," he said.
       "I hope so," I said.
       "Don't worry. They will, and you will," he said.
       * * *
       About a week later, my dad hired Cory to work for his company. Dad has a bunch of radio stations, and that's the main part of the business, but he also has quite a few pieces of beach rental property. My dad's a pretty good businessman when he wants to be, but his abiding love and passion is making music with his band. That's why my uncle, his younger brother, pretty much runs most of the business.
       My Uncle Roger is ten years younger than my dad, which makes Roger around thirty. He's married and has a couple of little boys that are the cutest kids on the face of this earth. My dad graduated from Emerald Beach High School, and he picked up an AA degree from Emerald Coast Community College. But Uncle Roger went to FSU and got a BS degree in business. His wife's a schoolteacher by training, but she's staying home to take care of the boys until they're ready to start school.
       Dad made Cory Roger's "special assistant" to look after the rental property. There are a bunch of houses and condos and trailers and stuff like that, and there are a ton of those little mini-storage units that they rent out. Cory took to that like a duck takes to water, and he was doing so good. He was making real money for the first time ever, and he upgraded to a brand new Ford pickup. He and I were totally in love, but, besides my dad and Roger, we weren't out to anybody.
       Then one day in late May the shit hit the fan.
       It was a Saturday. We went out Friday night to one of the few gay clubs in Emerald Beach. Cory was already almost nineteen, so he didn't have a problem about getting in. He wasn't supposed to drink, but that was pretty much a formality. I got in on the strength of a fake ID I had manufactured using a scanner, a printer, and a laminating machine. I knew it was piss poor, but it worked that night.
       The next day, Saturday, we slept in. We happened to be in his room, and we were both naked, which is how we always slept. We woke up around 11:30 or so. We both got up to piss, and then we just stayed in bed, kissing and holding and rubbing. It was real lazy.
       Without warning, the door flew open, and it was Shelly. She NEVER came up there. What the fuck was she doing there now?
       The look on her face is indescribable. She had caught us in the act every bit as much as if Cory had his dick shoved up my ass or I had his in my mouth. She knew what was going on, and she freaked out.
       "What now?" I asked.
       "I don't know," Cory said. "But I think we'd better get up and go see what's going on, don't you?"
       "Yeah," I said.
       What was going on downstairs was a hysterical fit by Shelly. When we went into the room, she charged us and started slapping and pounding her fists on our chests. I didn't want that bitch wailing on me, but I wasn't about to slap her or anything with my daddy right there. I grabbed her wrists and made her stop hitting us.
       "Shelly, calm down," Dad said.
       "You knew about this, didn't you? You knew," she screamed at my dad.
       "Yes, I knew. And I don't have a problem with it," he said.
       "I want him out of here. Now!" she said, meaning Cory.
       "Baby, please calm down," Dad said.
       "NO! I will NOT calm down! I want this piece of fruit out of here," she said.
       I thought that expression was pretty clever for her, and I noticed my dad smiling a little, too, when she said that.
       "Don't you laugh at me, you fag lover," she said to my dad, and she stalked out of the room.
       "What did she see, guys?" my dad asked, once things in the room were more or less calm.
       "Dad, we were naked in bed. We were kissing and holding each other close. She stormed in without knocking or giving us any warning," I said. "She's never done that before. In fact, I can't ever remember her coming upstairs when I'm home."
       My dad made some heavy sighs, and nobody said anything for a long time.
       "Here's the deal, guys. I think I can calm her down, but it might be a good idea for you two boys to make yourselves scarce for the next couple of days. Cory, do you think you can stay at your parents' house?" Dad asked.
       "I guess," Cory said, "but I'm only going if Brink goes with me."
       "I'll do that," I said.
       Oh, the drama of it all. Cory and I packed up what we thought we might need for three or four days, and we drove over separately to his parents' house. He had tried to get them on the phone before we left, but they hadn't answered. He knew where they keep the key, so we went on over there without even talking to them.
       They weren't all that pleased to see us, frankly. Naturally, we had to explain about our relationship, and that was the first time they learned their son is gay. They didn't take the news badly, but they really didn't take it all that well, either. It was sort of a grudging acceptance. It's a three-bedroom house, and they made us each have a separate room. Like that would do any good. But we went along with it to please them.
       Things were tense in that house. Nobody said anything overtly, but the fact that we didn't talk about why we were there, and what was going on at my dad's house, made me nervous and uneasy. Cory's parents weren't offensive, or anything, but the second day we were there, his dad started in on the military for Cory.
       Military? What? Okay, so his dad's a retired Master Sergeant, or something like that, but I wasn't real clear on what that means. His dad set up an interview with an army recruiter, and before I knew it, Cory was signing paperwork to join up.
       "What about us?" I asked.
       "What ABOUT us?" he asked in return. "It's not going to work out for us, Brink. My fucking sister saw to that."
       "It can, though, Baby. We can make it work out," I said.
       "I don't think so, Brink. Besides, I'm a grown man, now. I need to get on with my life on my own. I'm not a boy anymore," he said.
       * * *
       The upshot was, Cory left for the army in the middle of June. I went home to my dad's house, and that was the beginning of the battle royal between Shelly and me. She didn't give me a minute's peace. I finally said "fuck it," and I went back to Cory's parents' house. They put me up for a couple of nights, but then they said I had to leave. They contacted the foster care people.
       "Dad, how can you let them do this to me?" I asked my father.
       "I don't want to, Son, and I'm pretty sure we can work this out real soon, you know? It's not like you're a little kid anymore, though," he said.
       I didn't have a rebuttal to that. He opted for Shelly over me, at least for the time being, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. And that's how I landed on North Lagoon Drive.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       "You seem mighty damn depressed. What the hell's wrong with you?" Justin asked me one day.
       "Nothing," I said.
       "Don't give me that shit, Kyle. Who the fuck you think you're talking to? Some fucking stranger? What's wrong?" Justin demanded.
       "Nothing's wrong," I said. "But in two weeks we're leaving here, man. Don't that make you sad?"
       Tears were streaming down my face. In a second, tears were streaming down his face, too. We hugged each other and cried like two little middle-school girls. We were just pathetic.
       "Kyle, we got to find a good way to look at this," Jus said. "Otherwise, we're going to be miserable."
       "I know. We're just going off to school. For the next thirteen FUCKING years," I said.
       "Don't say it that way, you shit, 'cause if you do, I'll have to cut your tongue out," Justin said.
       "What? This?" and I licked him on the cheek. I had done that to Brian a time or two, and I thought it was funny as hell.
       "God! You are the most disgusting person I have ever known, Goodson," Justin said.
       He was trying hard to wipe my saliva off his cheek, but he and I both knew the whole thing was a big joke.
       "You can do it to me, if you want to," I said.
       "But, see? That's the thing. I don't want to. I'm not part Labrador Retriever, like you are. Plus, Brian's got me trained," Jus said.
       That made us both laugh so hard, I thought I was going to pee my britches.
       I was depressed about leaving my home, but I'm going off with three of the people I care about most in the world. I'm going to miss Kevin and Rick, and my parents, and Emerald Beach, and all my friends, but at least I'm taking the three people I'm closest to with me. I guess it could be a lot worse.
       * * *
       During the two weeks before we left, the weather in Emerald Beach was horrible. It rained every single day, and we had three different tropical depressions come through our area in that time. The surf was great every day, but it was also cloudy, overcast, and real humid. When a trop comes through, you can always tell. The atmospheric pressure gets real low, and the humidity gets real high. A trop has a feel all its own. There's a lot more wind than usual, but it's not the cool sea breeze we love every day. It's real wind, and all those big oak trees around our house drop shit that has to be picked up. Usually it's just little twigs with a few leaves on each one, but sometimes it's big branches. It's usually dead wood from the tree, so that helps everything out, but it's a pain in the ass to have to pick up all that crap.
       We had already taken a bunch of our shit to New Orleans after Chris and David left in July. I don't know why we have so many books, but we do. Each of us also has a desktop computer, and all four of us have laptops, too. Eight computers for four guys? How can that be right? But that's what we have.
       Grandma and Grandpa Foley were looking to spoil the shit out of us. They had already put in a second bathroom for us, but they also had the whole damn place wired with cable Internet and digital cable TV. I don't know who did the computer stuff, but he put in wireless access points all over the apartment so that we can literally surf the Internet with our laptops while we're taking a crap, if we want to. I figure Tim and Brian will probably do that some, too.
       * * *
       Philip and Ryan came over.
       "We're leaving tomorrow for school," Philip said.
       "Well, we're leaving this weekend," I said.
       "I know. Do you feel like you're leaving your whole life, man?" Philip said.
       "Yeah. I sort of do," I said.
       "Well, you're not, Kyle. We did it last year, you know? This is probably going to be the last summer we're coming home for anything more than a visit," Philip said.
       "And why is that?" I asked.
       "Philip and I are making a life together in Tallahassee, Kyle. Just like you and Tim are going to make a life in New Orleans. We've missed our apartment, we've missed our friends, we've missed the places we like to go out to. That's just where we are now," Ryan said.
       "Do you think we'll get that way?" I asked. "About New Orleans, I mean?"
       "No question. You guys got the perfect setup, as I understand it. Man, it's going to be so good, you won't ever want to leave," Philip said.
       "I don't know about that," I said. "We'll see, though."
       * * *
       Well, the weekend we had all dreaded had finally gotten there. Our rooms were totally barren because everything was packed up. We had left out a couple of pairs of underwear, a couple of shirts, and one pair of shorts for us to wear before we left. Everything else was packed and put away in the cars.
       On Saturday, we had a big party. I made Brink and Denny shadow me in the kitchen so they'll know exactly what to do with a crowd that size. They're both really, really smart, and I know that Kevin and Rick aren't going to pay the least bit of attention to having parties after we're gone. Rick once catered a party for 3,000 people when the City of Tallahassee had gotten some kind of award, so I know he can serve a crowd, but he doesn't really like to do that kind of thing anymore. That means the kids will have to do it, and Brink and Denny are the logical choices.
       We had a great day on Saturday. All of our friends made it over for at least a little while, and we loved seeing them. There's no telling how many beers I drank that day, but I never, ever felt the least bit drunk. Of course, I was eating pretty much nonstop, so that probably kept me sober. I don't know.
       Sunday morning was the worst time of my life. My parents were there, and Tim's parents were there. The Townhouse Boys were there, too. We had a very, very nice breakfast. I made a dish called Eggs Nouvelle Orleans, which featured a bed of lump blue crab meat, two poached eggs, and hollandaise sauce. That was the first time I had made it, so I didn't know how it would turn out. It was very good, though. I thought that dish was fitting, considering what was going on.
       We dragged around that morning. Nobody wanted to go home, and nobody wanted to go upstairs to study or whatever. Finally, I said, "Let's go." It was about 11:30 in the morning, and that meant we'd get to Grandma and Grandpa's house -- our new house -- around 4:30 or 5:00 o'clock.
       But the leaving was not easy.
       My daddy hugged me and held me close for a few seconds.
       "Kyle, I'm going to tell you what my daddy told me when I drove off to college. Go, Gators!"
       "What?" I asked.
       He broke up laughing. "I guess that don't mean that much to you anymore," he said.
       "It'll always mean a lot to me, Daddy," and he and I both cried. "Did you hear that Bobby Bowden predicted the FSU season this year?"
       "No. What'd he say?" Daddy asked.
       "He said it's going to be eight and three," I said.
       "For real?" he asked.
       "Yes, sir. Eight arrests, three convictions," I said.
       That busted him up.
       "It sounds like you've been talking to some Gators," he said.
       "No, sir, actually a Seminole told me that one," I said.
       The whole Gator-Seminole rivalry is just about the essence of Florida collegiate football; the fact that he and my mother and my brother had gone to the University of Florida; the fact that Jeff had gone there, even though his degree is from Florida State. All of that came crashing in on me. Kevin, Rick, and Rick's family were Seminoles. That's what made football in the state of Florida more fun than the Civil War.
       "Go, Gators, Daddy, but Go, Noles, too," I said.
       "Yes, son. It's definitely a multicultural world where diversity is valued. No Hurricanes, though, okay?"
       I literally howled with laughter when he said that. He was talking about the University of Miami Hurricanes, the bane of both Florida and FSU. What other state had college football teams of the magnitude and power and consistency of those three teams? One of those three teams had been the National Champions in something like seven of the last ten years, and it wasn't fixing to end, either.
       There were a lot of tender moments that morning, as we said goodbye to our families and friends. It was very, very difficult for all concerned, but there was an air of expectancy, an air of adventure, among the four of us who were leaving.
       By 11:30, I thought, This shit's got to end, and now's the time.
       "Let's head out, guys," I said.
       We were driving four cars, but we had walkie-talkies so we could stay in touch. Trixie rode with Brian in his car, and we headed out for college and for life.
       Our life in Emerald Beach, on North Lagoon Drive, had been idyllic, and I think we knew that. We aren't exactly going into a void or a vacuum. Grandma and Grandpa are going to be there, as are Craig and Cherie and little Rob. We don't know where it's all going to end up, but who ever does in life?
       "Goodbye, Kevin. Goodbye, Rick. Goodbye, Emerald Beach. Goodbye, boyhood," I said aloud, as I drove down the street, and tears streamed down my face.

The End

Afterword

       If we had a crystal ball and could see the future, we'd know that Kevin and Rick continue to provide foster care for gay boys and young men. The Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals eventually overturned the Florida statute that forbade gay adoption, and Tyrone Williams was immediately all over them about adopting a couple of kids, or more. Kevin and Rick discussed that proposition at length, but, in the end, they decided they can do more good with a larger number of kids in foster care than they could with three or four they adopted. Not all the kids stayed close to the couple the way Kyle, Tim, Justin, and Brian did, but most years the house on North Lagoon Drive is packed to the rafters on Christmas morning, with boys for whom that place is their only real home.
       Philip's and Ryan's predictions about the guys loving college and loving New Orleans came true quicker than anybody thought they would. Tim and Brian had enough credits through Advanced Placement and Dual Enrollment that they started Tulane as second-semester sophomores. They were both premed majors, of course, and they made it a point to take as many of the same courses as possible. They were never lab partners because they wanted to get to know other kids in their classes, but they presented a formidable academic force as a team. Grandpa Foley was able to get Tim and Brian summer jobs in some of the labs at the Tulane Medical School, and their transitions from undergraduates to medical students were seamless.
       Kyle and Justin took much the same approach to courses at the University of New Orleans. Kyle got a job as a photographer for the campus newspaper, and that kept him busy. Every couple of years, Kyle's publisher would demand a new book from him, and he developed an impressive circle of collectors through the galleries that represented him, which by the end of their time in New Orleans were in seven cities. He joined the New Orleans Gay Men's Chorus after college, and that put him and his brothers smack dab in the center of the New Orleans gay arts community.
       Justin took up quilting and joined a local quilting guild. His first attempts, namely panels for the AIDS Quilt in memory of Trey and another man they had gotten to know during college, an eighteen-year-old freshman, were decent, but in time Justin's quilting skills and eye for design flourished. By the end of the second year after he and Kyle graduated from UNO, he had quilts on display in two New Orleans art galleries. Each had a whopping $15,000.00 price tag on it, and he sold every one of them. In fact, he couldn't make them fast enough. A lot of that money went straight into rental property in Emerald Beach, where his holdings, while not as extensive as Kyle's, were growing steadily.
       The first semester after they moved to New Orleans, they, quite predictably, made it home to Emerald Beach at least once a month for the weekend, and some months more often than that. As time moved on, though, the trips became less and less frequent. They were always there for holidays and major family celebrations, but the center of their world gradually shifted from Emerald Beach to New Orleans.
       Their apartment over the garage at Grandma and Grandpa Foley's house was fine while they were in college. After college, and while Tim and Brian were in medical school, the house next door to the Foley's went up for sale. The two couples bought it jointly, and they continued to live in the shadow of Kevin's parents.
       The day Brian turned twenty-one, Kyle announced his legacy to his brothers. His personal fortune had grown from the $6 million his Goodson grandparents had left him in trust as a baby to a very handsome thirty million dollars. Kyle worked closely with Cherie, who was still a bit skeptical about Kyle giving away large sums of money, to establish trust funds to the tune of five million dollars each for Tim, Justin, and Brian. Kyle had originally wanted to divide his trust fund evenly among the four of them, but Cherie, with the help of Craig, Ed and Beth Foley, and Gene Goodson, talked him out of that. The other boys hadn't wanted to accept Kyle's gift, but he eventually made them take the money. Much to their credit, the four millionaires continued to live together as they always had, and the only change in lifestyle was that Justin bought himself a new pickup truck-which he would have had to do anyway. Kyle had already gotten them a Celica, which was about in need of replacement.
       The two couples made their solemn public commitments to their mates two weeks after Tim and Brian graduated from medical school. Kyle and Tim had been together for a full ten years by then, and Justin and Brian had been together almost nine years. But the love and joy and happiness that beamed from the faces of the four grooms made everybody who attended think they were new couples, freshly in love. The party on that occasion was unbelievable. Little Rob, who was by then eight years old, and his six-year-old brother, Eddie, also conceived using Kevin's sperm, were the altar servers for the occasion. Those two little boys could not have loved their four "uncles" any more than they did. The Reverend Gerald Taylor presided-in the actual parish church in Emerald Beach. Father Vince Vickers had left the priesthood by then, but he and his partner were honored guests.
       Kyle and Justin both got management jobs in huge downtown New Orleans hotels. Nobody knew whether Gene Goodson had anything to do with their getting those jobs, but each of them worked at a hotel that was part of the same brands that Gene had in Emerald Beach. Even if Gene had pulled strings in helping them get jobs, there was no way he could have been responsible for the brilliance of their careers. Kyle and Justin each declined offers to become general managers of hotels, Kyle in Little Rock and Justin in Savannah. Their boys -- their men, really -- were still in training in New Orleans, so that was where they would stay.
       Eventually, Tim and Brian did specialty residencies at Tulane Medical Center. Given the vagaries of the residency lottery, there is no question that Ed Foley used his influence as a member of the Tulane Medical Center Board of Directors to see that the boys stayed together. Their family has "resources" that other families don't have, and that was one time the guys were happy to use them. Tim went into ophthalmology, and Brian became an ear, nose, and throat specialist.
       During his residency, whenever he could find the time, Brian got involved in training "hearing dogs" for people with hearing impairments. He was able to couple his natural "dog man" talents with his chosen medical specialty, and he could have turned that into a full-time career, if he hadn't been so interested in ear, nose, and throat surgery.
       When the guys moved back to Emerald Beach, Kyle and Justin each became the general manager of one of Gene's big hotels, and Tim and Brian joined a group medical practice. Each couple bought a house next door to Kevin and Rick's house because, unlike Kevin and Rick, they plan to take advantage of the freedom of gay couples to adopt children. That arrangement lasted about three months. Then Justin and Brian put their house on the rental market and moved in with Kyle and Tim. Their children will just have to grow up together, as they had. Eventually, Cherie helped them straighten out ownership so that the two couples formed a corporation to own those houses in common. They kept their rental property separate, but Kyle wouldn't hesitate to work out a problem with a piece of Justin's property, and Justin did the same for Kyle.
       It's a good life, filled with love and comradeship and caring and fun. As Kevin had predicted, Kyle and Justin had lost their accents and their Emerald Beach "good ole boy" personas after they had been in New Orleans for about a month, but the grumble came back loud and clear once they were home for good. Nobody cared, and it actually paid dividends in the Emerald Beach business community that even they weren't aware of.
       Kevin and Rick, Gene and Rita, and George and Sonya could not be any prouder of their sons.

The End.
For Real.

           I posted the first chapter of "Tim" to the Nifty Archive on February 26, 2002, and eighteen months later, on September 5, 2003, I am finally putting the story to bed. There are people I want to thank.
           First, Rob, my faithful partner for over five years. When I first started writing this saga, Rob didn't show much interest in it. He was supportive and never discouraging, but he wasn't especially enthusiastic. I clearly remember the night that changed, though. He was in "his room" reading the story over a dial-up connection on his antiquated laptop. He came into the den where I was working, and he stood behind me. He started kneading my shoulders, which is usually a sign that he's ready to go to bed and wants me to go with him. It was early, though, only around eight o'clock.
       "I'm enjoying your story," he said.
           "Good. I'm having fun writing it," I said.
           "I can tell that," he said. "That Rick guy reminds me a lot of myself. And Kevin reminds me a lot of you. I like that."
           "They are us," I said.
           "I know," he said, "and Craig is your brother, Mike. This is really cool, Brew."
           From then on, he has been my most constant reader, constructive critic, and supportive fan. He's had some great ideas that I've used shamelessly without attribution, but he knows. I've encouraged him to try his hand at writing (he's really quite literate), but he has resisted thus far.
           Second, my loyal readers and fans. Almost no week has gone by that I haven't gotten email from a reader who is on his or her third or fourth reading of the story from the beginning. I've gotten email from young gay guys, and some not-so-young gay guys, who have had me and Rob in tears because of their honesty and trust and the poignancy of their stories. Those usually bring on the happy tears.
           I've gotten email from critics, too, and in some ways I appreciate those letters even more than I do the ones that tell about how wonderful the story is or about how it changed their lives. Don't misunderstand me. I love the latter two types and hope you won't stop writing them. But the ones that are critical are usually right on target, but, more importantly, they let me know that mature, thoughtful readers take my work seriously. I mean, would you take the trouble of writing the equivalent of a ten-page, single-spaced letter, citing examples and quotations from the many chapters of this story, if you didn't take the work seriously? I wouldn't.
           Thank you to all of you who have written to me over the last eighteen months. I've read every single one, and I think I've replied to almost all of them.
           Third, my two publishers. First, the Nifty Archivist. I don't think many people realize how much work this guy does, without any pay whatsoever, for the benefit of the GLBT community of readers. I don't know much about him, but I have chatted with him, both in public and in private, in the #niftyorg IRC chatroom. His nickname is rhyolite. He has a Ph.D. in mathematical physics. He's gay and single (or he was the last time I inquired), and he's probably in his late forties or early fifties. He must spend hours every single day maintaining and expanding the Archive. I asked him one time if he reads the stories before he posts them, and he said he reads very few. Second, Robb, the Webmaster of crvboy.com. This guy, in a very unassuming way, is making a huge contribution to gay literary culture throughout the world. He evidently read some of my early posts of "Tim" on Nifty, and he wrote to me to see if I would be willing for him to cohost the story. I was flattered beyond belief, especially after I visited the site and saw how good it is. Robb does read the stories before he posts them, and he has made invaluable suggestions to me about inconsistencies and problem passages. I really can't thank "rhyolite" and Robb enough, and neither can you.
           Fourth, and finally, my editor, Aaron. He's only edited the last three segments, so don't blame him for bad stuff before that. Actually, he wrote to me that he would like to re-edit "College Daze," and I know that's because his editing has become more intense and precise with each segment he has edited. I've never had an editor before, but this young man has taught me, through his comments and changes, more about writing the English language than I ever learned in school. I think our community has a genius on its hands in the person of Aaron, and I look forward to learning about his many, many accomplishments in the years to come. Oh, did I mention he'll turn fifteen in early October? Yeah. Un-huh.
           Thanks to all of you for your interest and support. The next story I plan to write will be set in New Orleans among a family whose backdoor neighbors are two doctors. These doctors are a fifty-something married couple, but they have a passel of gay male college students living in an apartment above their garage. Those boys have a big black dog. A Lab, maybe. Could it be? We'll see what happens with this one.
           Love,
           Brew