SchoolDays2

Chapter 1

(Kevin's Perspective)
       "I hate for the holidays to end," Rick said as he and I put the dishes from breakfast into the dishwasher.
       "I know. They were good ones, though, weren't they?" I said.
       "They keep getting better and better I think," he said. "Kev, do you think the kids are committed to running that marathon?"
       "No. Do you?"
       "No, I don't. They had all said they were going to start training this morning, but every one of them came up with an excuse why they couldn't. If they're not that interested in doing it, I say we scrap the idea, at least for this year," he said.
       "Let's talk about it with them tonight," I said, "but I tend to agree with you. For one thing, they're always so damn busy. For another thing, that would be another day of school they'd have to miss. I mean, I don't mind letting them miss for recreation, occasionally, but this is recreation they don't even care about."
       Kyle and Justin had their English class that night, so they didn't get home until a few minutes before seven.
       "How was the first day as a desk clerk?" I asked Justin.
       "I enjoyed it," he said. "I feel sort of tired right now, but that's just because it was the first day. I think this is going to be an easier job than bellhop."
       "Did you learn anything today?" Rick asked.
       "I learned a ton of stuff, Rick. One thing I learned is that some people can sure enough be assholes. The second guest I dealt with this morning was pissed off about room service charges on his bill. I thought the man wanted to fight me."
       "What did you do?" I asked.
       "I got the supervisor to deal with him, and I just stood there and listened. That's how I learned," he said.
       "What was the complaint?" I asked.
       "Okay. Get this. The man had ordered a pot of coffee and an order of toast this morning off the room service menu. I know something about room service from my old job, right? The charge was $7.19, and the man said the menu said it was only a dollar. There ain't a thing on that menu that's only a dollar, much less a pot of coffee and an order of toast. I pulled out a menu and showed it to him, and he got mad. He said the menu in his room said it was only a dollar," Jus said. "That's when I got the supervisor."
       "You handled that exactly right, Jus. You ought to keep a little notebook of crazy shit like that so you can remember the stories years from now," I said. "I'm sorry I don't have one."
       "Did you work the front desk?" Jus asked.
       "Mostly I was in sales, but I did duty on the desk from time to time," I said. "Everybody in management does. What about school? How were your classes?"
       "Pretty good. I'm going to like 'em, I think. I've got the same lady for English this time as last time. She's really nice. They all are, though," he said. "One thing, though. I didn't register for a biology lab. I didn't know you had to do that, so I had to register for it today. It's only one hour of credit, but the damn thing is three hours long. Only once a week, though. Thursday afternoon."
       "So, you're taking ten hours. That's almost full-time, Bubba," Rick said.
       "I know. I'm going to be a busy little bee around this place," he said.
       "Speaking of being busy, Rick and I were talking this morning about the marathon up in Birmingham," I said.
       "We're thinking you all aren't really committed to it and that we might be better off postponing that till another year. What do you think?" Rick asked.
       I was surprised at the reaction.
       "That would be a load off my back," Justin said. What he said wasn't funny at all, but the way he said it was hilarious to me.
       "Me, too. Y'all just need to know. I'm getting a lot of pressure at school right now," Kyle said. "I think it's a good idea to postpone running the marathon."
       "What kind of pressure you getting?" Justin asked.
       "I had my schedule all set to have two periods of PE and two of Leadership. Piece of cake. Today the drama teacher came to see me during Leadership. She wants me to change my schedule to drop one Leadership and be in drama," he said. "She said she wants me to be in a play. A musical."
       "I thought you liked being in plays," I said.
       "I do. But this is a hard one," he said.
       "What's the play?" I asked.
       "Grease. You ever heard of it?" Kyle asked.
       "Of course I have," I said. "Everybody has, Kyle."
       "I never heard of it," Justin said.
       "Me, either," Kyle said. "She gave me a movie of it to watch. She wants an answer by Wednesday, too."
       "What part does she want you for?" I asked.
       "The part of Danny. I think it might be a pretty big part. She said if I say no, they aren't going to do it and everybody in the drama class is going to be pissed off at me."
       "She said that?" I asked. I thought that was pretty high handed.
       "Well, not in so many words, but that's what she meant," he said.
       "Danny's the lead, Kyle," Rick said. "It's a big singing and dancing role. I think you ought to do it. It might be your once-in-a-lifetime chance to have a leading role in a big musical."
       "There are probably a dozen kids in that school who would kill for a chance to play that role, Kyle," Brian said.
       "See. That's another thing. It's dangerous. I could be setting myself up for assassination."
       We all laughed hard at that one.
       "Why don't we just watch the damn movie and see what it's like," Justin said. "Where is it?"
       "It's in my car," Kyle said.
       "I'll get it," Tim said.
       I had seen the movie version of Grease at least a dozen times, but I was kind of excited at the prospect of seeing it again, especially with them. I knew that Kyle would love it, and I was eager to see his reaction. He got up and went into the kitchen for a jar of Tick Supreme, that peanut-raisin-M & M snack he made.
       Tim popped the cassette into the VCR and it came up. Everybody watched with rapt attention as John Travolta, Olivia Newton-John, and all the kids at Rydell High danced and sang away their adolescent concerns. It was so much fun.
       We stopped the movie about halfway through for a piss break.
       "Why didn't y'all tell me how cool this thing is?" Kyle demanded.
       "Does that mean you're going to do it?" Rick asked.
       "Hell, yeah, I'm going to do it. I'm starting to grow out my hair as of right now," he said. "I'm going to get me a can of motor oil to put on it, too."
       We all laughed.
       "Go take your piss so we can get back to it," Rick said.
       Kyle laughed.
       "You knew, didn't you?" he said to Rick.
       Rick grinned at him.
       "Yeah, I knew," Rick said. "If anybody was ever born to play Danny Zuko it was you, Kyle."
       We finished the movie, and everybody loved it.
       "When is the play?" I asked.
       "Not till after Spring Break. I don't know the exact date. Sometime in April, though," Kyle said.
       Brian got up and went into the study. He came back about five minutes later.
       "The play's on April 9th, 10th, 11th, and 12th. That's Thursday through Sunday," he said.
       "How do you know that?" Kyle asked.
       "It's on the school Web site," Brian responded.
       "You didn't know there is a school Web site, did you?" Tim asked Kyle.
       "No, I didn't," Kyle said.
       "Your picture's on it, Kyle," Brian said.
       "No shit?"
       "No shit," Brian said.
       Justin pulled Brian down next to him and hugged him.
       "Listen at you saying those nasty words. What the fuck you think this is? Some kind of damn boot camp or something?" Justin asked, teasing his boy.
       I loved it when Justin showed that kind of affection for Brian, and Brian loved it, too.
       "The next thing you know, you'll be smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey and scratching your balls in public," Justin said.
       We were all laughing at him, and Brian was laughing the hardest.
       "How was your first day back, Denny?" Rick asked.
       "It was good, Rick. I'm taking debate now," he said.
       "I thought you already were," Rick said.
       "I've been on the team, but now I'm in the class. The team is an after-school activity," Denny said.
       "Have you been staying after school every day for debate?" Rick asked.
       "Yes, sir," Denny said.
       "How have you been getting home?" I asked.
       "They wait for me," he said.
       "You guys wait for him every day?" Rick asked, slightly incredulous.
       "Yeah, so what?" Kyle asked. "He needs a ride home. The rest of us always have shit to do after school, anyway. It's no big deal."
       "I'm pretty impressed, guys," Rick said.
       "Don't be, Rick," Tim said. "We're in a lot of clubs and activities, and on days that we don't have meetings, we do our homework. They keep the library open until four o'clock, and that's where we go to wait. That's why we don't do very much homework at home. We do it at school."
       "Brian, you've been working out with the dog man and Trixie every day, though, haven't you?" I asked.
       "Well, not every day. Some days I have to stay after school, but most days. Kyle brings me home, we pick up Trixie, and he takes me to Mr. Mack's place. It works out okay," Brian said.
       "This is pretty incredible. Why didn't Rick and I know this was going on?" I asked.
       "Are you angry at us about this?" Brian asked.
       "No, of course not. I think it's wonderful. I'm just sort of amazed is all," I said.
       "If your brother needs a ride, you give him a damn ride," Kyle said. "Grease is the word."
       We all laughed.
       "Greasy, more like it," Justin said.
       "Lubed up, you mean," Kyle said.
       I didn't know where that was going, and I didn't want to find out.
       "Let's watch the news and then go to bed," I said.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       I couldn't believe that Grease movie. I think my new nickname is going to be Greased Lightning. I didn't know the damn thing was about kids and rock-n-roll and drag races and such. That was going to be fun being Danny, and the music was great. 'And oh-oh, those summer night!' I've had me a few of those. Of course they were with Tim and not some girl, but I knew what that was all about.
       I found the drama teacher, Mrs. Storm, before school the next morning and told her I would do it. She seemed excited that I was willing to take it on, and she marched my ass to the guidance office to change my schedule lickety-split. By then most of my heavy SGA duties were behind me, and I was used to the day-to-day shit of running the ICC, too. Being SGA president was nothing compared to running ICC.
       I decided that morning that I was going to end every single announcement I made on TV with the words, "Grease is the word." That was going to get some attention because nobody was going to know what that meant. Two or three people asked me about that the first day, and I just told them to stay tuned.
       In drama class that day we got a copy of the script, and we started reading it out loud. About half the class called Mrs. Storm by her first name, which was Maggie.
       "Maggie, can Danny sing?" some guy asked. I didn't know him, but I thought he was a senior.
       "Yes, Michael, Danny can sing," she said.
       I didn't know who they were talking about. Turns out, they were talking about me. I was only ever going to be called Danny in that class. That didn't bother me, but I wish they had given me a heads up on that. When people change your name for you, you need to know it. This is typical of what I mean.
       "Danny, can you stay after school today? I want to start you singing," she said.
       Nobody said a word.
       "Hello! Earth to Danny! Can you stay today?"
       Nothing.
       "Danny?"
       "She's talking to you, Goodson, you dumbass," my best friend, Philip Andrews, said out loud for everybody to hear. He was going to be in it, too.
       The class laughed.
       "Sorry. I missed it," I said.
       "Can you stay after school today, Danny?" Mrs. Storm asked.
       "Yes, ma'am," I said.
       "Kyle, do you mind if we call you Danny? That's sort of a theater tradition," she said.
       "No, ma'am, that's fine. I just didn't know you were talking to me," I said. "I'll pay attention."
       I was so fucking embarrassed I wanted to hide my face. I guess it made sense to call me Danny, since that's who I was going to be in the play. But, you know, you've got to tell people stuff like that. You can't expect them to just know it. Especially people like me.
       I had been in a couple of plays before, but I didn't ever have a name in one before. I guess they called the other people by their character's name in drama class. I just had never taken drama before.
       We had ninety minutes every day in class to get that play off the ground, but she helped me to understand that day that I was going to put in a lot more time than that after school. That was cool. We'd have a little bit of a logistics problem with getting Brian to Mr. Mack's place to work with Trixie, but that wasn't going to last long. Tim could take him in the meantime.
       * * *
       Brian's sixteenth birthday was January 13th, which was a Tuesday that year. If a birthday fell in the middle of a week, we had the party the following Saturday. Well, guess what? We couldn't for him that year because we were leaving on Friday, January 16th, for North Carolina to go skiing over the Martin Luther King, Jr., long weekend. So we had to have his party on January 10th.
       He wanted a cookout. Hotdogs, hamburgers, ribs--that kind of stuff. So be it. That was very easy. But no way could I just serve that for my brother Brian. I made up a big pot of really good chili con carne and another pot of chili sauce to put on the hotdogs. I made some of that filé gumbo we had had in New Orleans at Christmas and a big mess of red beans and rice, too. I also made some corn salad, with onions, green peppers, oil and vinegar, and frozen nibblet corn--thawed, of course. That was real good. Justin loved that stuff. Brian wasn't big on raw oysters, so I boiled shrimp to serve in the rough before that meal with cocktail sauce and some of that remoulade sauce I had tasted at the Boardwalk Hotel the night of the Homecoming dance. That damn chef wouldn't give me the recipe for the remoulade, so Tim and I went there one night and ordered five servings each of that stuff. We ate it till we figured out what was in it. What I made was pretty close to it, if not exactly on the money. Tim, Justin, and Denny and I worked pretty hard on that meal, but it was a labor of love for our brother.
       Tim and I gave Brian a really nice dog whistle as his present. He blew into it when he opened it. Nobody heard a thing, but Trixie jumped up on the table in front of him. She didn't ever do stuff like that, ordinarily. Philip was sitting across from Brian. Not only did Philip get a good whiff of dog ass, he got his face slapped by her tail a few times. Everybody was laughing so hard I thought they were going to vomit.
       Justin gave him a bunch of clothes, which he needed. He was still growing. He loved them, too.
       Then there was this stack of envelopes. Everybody knew he wanted money to buy a car, and that's what he got. I gave him the money I owed him for modeling for me. When all was said and done, that boy had gotten six thousand dollars. He was so happy. He knew that with what he already had, he had enough for a car.
       The last envelope was the best, though, and all of us were waiting patiently for him to get to it. It was big, like a manila envelope, only it was white and not tan. He felt it pretty good before he opened it. I was already on pins and needles, but he took his own sweet time about it.
       He finally opened the envelope and pulled out a framed certificate. Kevin's secretary had made up a real nice one that said Brian was the one and only official owner of Trixie Foley Mashburn Mathews. Everybody in the family had signed it. When he read that thing, big, hot, happy tears just gushed out of his eyes. He grabbed Justin up in a hug that I'm sure must have hurt ole Jus, it was so hard, and he hugged the rest of us hard, too. God, he was so happy. And the rest of us were just standing there like fools, crying our eyes out for our little brother. We knew never to ask him who he loved more, Justin or Trixie, for fear of what he might say. Now she was his for the rest of her life.
       "I can't believe you guys," he said through his tears. "Thank you so much."
       "I guess that settles where Trixie will be living in a year-and-a-half," Kevin said. It had been his idea to do that, and we all loved it.
       "Oh, Kevin," he started to say but couldn't get past that for crying.
       "I think we've made my boy happy," Justin said. "Thank all of you." Then he cried some more, too.
       That was about the most emotional thing we had ever had happen at a birthday party, and it was right up there in the top two or three most emotional things ever. I felt so good that we were able to make him so happy. He had a wad of money in front of him, and he was going to be able to get himself a car. What mattered most to him? That he owned Trixie and that our family had given her to him.
       Nothing was going to change, of course. She was still going to run almost every morning with Rick, and she was still going to play with all of us like she always did. She would never know the difference. Who did know the difference was Brian. He'd never have to give her up, for one thing, and he knew how much we loved him, for another thing. Pretty good for one present that didn't cost a dime, I thought.
       "Kyle, what you guys did is something I will remember the rest of my life," Brian said to me later.
       "What? Give you a dog whistle? That's a nice whistle, but that ain't really all that much, Bubba," I said.
       "You know what I'm talking about," he said.
       God, he was cute. Justin would be a total fool to ever leave that boy or ever let him get away.
       "Yeah, I do know what you mean. We love you, though, Brian. Really. I'm not just talking about Justin and Rick and Kevin, and me and Tim. A lot of people love you."
       "This is sort of blowing my mind, you know?" he said. "All that money on top of everything."
       "I'm sure it is, Bri. But you know what?"
       "What?" Brian asked.
       "People wouldn't have done that if they hadn't wanted to," I said.
       He teared up big when I said that, but it was the truth. I think he knew that in the abstract, but he had concrete proof positive that night.
       "I want my first prostate exam as a doctor to be you," he said.
       I laughed hard.
       "Okay. It's a deal, Bubba," I said. "Which finger?"
       He thought that was funny. "You'll never know, but I guarantee you'll never forget it, Kyle," he said.
       God Almighty! What a cutie, I thought.
       * * *
       Brian had enough money to buy a car after the party, and of course he knew just exactly what kind of car he wanted. It surprised the hell out of me, but he wanted a Mazda 626, just like I had.
       "Why do you want that?" I asked.
       "We've already got a truck and a Jeep. I want a regular car. I can't afford anything sporty, and I like your car. It runs good, it's comfortable, it looks good, and I can pick up a year-old rental car for $11,000," he said.
       "You thought this through, didn't you?" I said.
       "Yeah," he said.
       "What color you want? Whatever they got?" I asked.
       I hadn't gotten to chose the color of my car. A guy who works for Goodson just drove it up on my birthday, and that was it. I didn't care, either. I was so excited about having wheels I would have taken anything. The only thing I cared about was having a light-colored cloth-upholstered interior, and that's what I got. Emerald Beach was way too hot for anything else. The car itself was dark green, and that was fine with me. I would have liked to have a University of Florida tag, but I couldn't since it was a lease. I know people who would pitch a fit about such as that, but Mr. Gene don't allow no fit pitching in his house. I've known that all my life, so I don't even get revved up.
       "The color doesn't matter. Justin took me to the dealership the other day just to look around, and they had a really nice dark gray one. It had about 38,000 miles on it, and I'd get the full three-year warrantee. Your dad said I get free insurance through the company, too," he said.
       That ain't for everybody, Little Buddy, I thought. You, me, Kevin, Rick, my mama, Jeff. Maybe Tim. That's about the end of that list. That was the kind of stuff I didn't know much about and didn't care. I wasn't much of a car man, that's for sure. I heard guys talking about changing their own oil and putting on new brake pads and shit like that. Not me. Tyler can do all that stuff for himself, but that's why they have mechanics and oil-change places, as far as I was concerned. The only reason I ever even washed it myself was to get naked in the back yard with my buds and play in the water.
       "So when are you going to go pick it out?" I asked. That day was his real birthday.
       "This afternoon. Rick's going to meet us at the driver's license place at three, and we're going to the dealership from there," he said.
       "Cool. Are you excited?"
       "Yeah, I am, Kyle. I'm very excited," he said. I could tell he was.
       Me, Tim, and Justin took Brian to the driver's license place, and we met up with Rick. Brian only had to take the road test because he had taken the written part to get his permit. He used my car, and he passed it with flying colors, too.
       I looked at the picture on his license, and I was disgusted. This face is hanging on the wall of a fucking museum in Phoenix, Arizona, I thought, and in this license picture he looks like he's twelve years old and sick as a damn dog. I wished there was some way I could touch that thing up.
       When we got to the dealership, Rick had to try to get the man down off the price, of course. And he did, too, by $500. Brian and Tim were there just soaking up everything that was going on between those guys. Me and Justin were roaming around the lot looking at the cars.
       "You still want a Jeep?" Justin asked me.
       "Naw, not no more," I said. "I love driving Tim's, but that's not a very practical vehicle with as many people as we're always hauling around."
       "My pickup's not practical for that, either, but, Kyle, I love that truck," he said.
       "I know, but your truck is practical for a lot of other things. My God, how many times have we hauled shit in your truck? Every family needs a truck, Bubba, and yours is it for us," I said.
       "Well, it's serviceable, that's for sure. Kyle, do you think the four of us are always going to be together?" he asked.
       "Where the hell did that come from, Justin?" I asked.
       "I'm just trying to plan cars for the future, Kyle," he said. "If the two couples are going to be together, then one of us always needs to have a pickup. I reckon that's going to be me."
       "You're working on your thirty-year vehicle acquisition plan, are you?"
       "Shut up, you little fuck, before I have to kick your balls off right here in this parking lot," he said.
       We both started laughing hard. I loved Justin. He was the funniest guy I had ever known, bar none.
       * * *
       I wanted us to leave for North Carolina right after school on Thursday. It would have been hard, but there were six of us who could drive. It was about an eight-hour trip, and if we left right at 2:30, we could have been there right at 10:30, 11:30 Eastern time, which is what North Carolina was in.
       "No, we can't do that," Rick said.
       "Why not?" I asked.
       "Your brother has his biology lab from two to five that afternoon. He can't afford to miss that. It would be 5:30 before we could get away from here, and it'll already be dark. We'd be getting there at 1:30 in the morning, worn slap out," Rick said.
       "I see your point," I said.
       "I see it, too, and it ain't nearly as big as I thought it would be," Justin said.
       Everybody in the room but Rick laughed. He looked kind of confused.
       "Say it, Babe," Kevin said.
       "Say what?" Rick demanded.
       "Justin got you last, Rick," Kevin said.
       It finally dawned on Rick what had been going on, and he laughed. He told Justin he got him last. We might have to refine that game some, I thought. Did somebody really get you last if you didn't know you had been got last? We'd have to work on that.
       Come Friday morning, we were all up early. We had the car all packed up, and we were ready to go by seven o'clock. We did a drive-thru at a fast-food place for breakfast, and, by my calculations, we could be on the slopes that very afternoon.
       "I've never seen snow," Denny said.
       "It's awesome, dude," I said.
       "Will there be somebody to teach me how to ski?" Denny asked.
       "Yeah, Den. I'll need to take some lessons, too," Brian said. "They give lessons."
       "Is it scary?" Denny asked.
       "No, it ain't scary. It's fun," Justin said. "Brian and I have only been once, but I can't wait."
       "Denny, if you're scared to ski, you don't have to," Brian said. "They have snow tubing, which is riding down in big inner tubes. I'll do that with you if you're scared."
       "Me, too," Tim said. "Recreation is supposed to be fun, Denny, not scary so that it makes you uncomfortable."
       Tim and Brian were way nicer than me. I mean, I'd do that with him a time or two, but I wasn't missing skiing because of him. No way.
       "I want to try skiing, but I've never even seen a mountain," Denny said.
       "Well, let me tell you something, Denny. These mountains ain't much compared to what we saw in Montana. They have some manly mountains out there," Justin said.
       "The pictures of them on the Web site are incredible," Denny said. "I'd love to go there one day."
       "You hang with this family, son, and you'll be all over the damn place," Jus said.
       "I want to say something," Denny said.
       Everybody got quiet. He didn't say that much, so I knew everybody wanted to know what was on his mind.
       "Before I lived here, I didn't laugh. Ever. Now I laugh every day. A lot. You probably don't understand that, but it feels so good," Denny said.
       Everybody was quiet.
       "Denny, I didn't ever laugh, either, before I came here," Justin said.
       "I had some years like that, too, Denny," Kevin said.
       "So did I," I said.
       "Me, too," Brian said.
       "I can't believe I'm not the only one who has had that kind of life," Denny said.
       "You're not, though, Denny. All of us have, in one way or another," Justin said. "That's something we all share, Bubba. You know? Rick and Tim didn't say anything, but it wasn't all peaches and cream for them, either," he said.
       "Denny, I didn't have many problems with being different when I was a kid. I knew it very early, and my mother had always gone out of her way to let me know it was all right if I was different. It wasn't until Kevin and I got together that it started for me. My step-dad, Arnie, the guy who would now defend me and all of us to the death if he had to, was extremely cold toward me, and especially toward Kevin," Rick said. "People change, though, when they see real love."
       "I sort of always knew I was different, too, Denny," Tim said. "I always thought it was because I didn't have a mom. When puberty started, I knew what it really was. My dad loved me as much as anybody could ever love a kid, and I always knew he wouldn't have a problem with me being gay. Until I met Kyle, though, I couldn't accept that about myself. Kyle, I've never even talked to you about this before, but I felt as isolated and cut off as you did before we met."
       "I knew that," I said. "Denny, you've been around us for almost six months. You've seen us every which way. You've seen us happy, like at Thanksgiving and Christmas and Brian's birthday last week, and you've seen us sad, like when Alex and Cody left. We laugh a lot because we love one another and we're having fun."
       Denny was a little moist around the eyes, but I knew those were happys, not sads.
       "Does anybody else have to pee?" Justin asked.
       Brian didn't even wait for an answer. He swung the car into the off ramp that was right there, and we all scurried out to take care of our business.
       "Come here," Rick said to me in the store we had stopped at.
       "What?" I demanded. I knew we were in tease mode.
       "Kyle, he's coming along, isn't he?" Rick asked me.
       "Who you mean? Denny?"
       "Yeah," he said.
       "Rick, he's happier than a pig in slop," I said. "That little boy's going to be fine, you know?"
       "Kyle, I wanted to say this the other night, but I didn't want to say it in front of all of them. Thank you for being so good to them, son."
       That made me feel so good, I was just about to bust.
       "I make 'em mind. They know I'll bust their ass if they don't," I said.
       "Cut the shit, Kyle. You're forgetting who you're talking to," he said.
       I laughed.
       "You do it all because you love them. Thank you, Bubba."
       I about melted into the floor. I was up to drive next, and that gave me time to think. Driving that Chevy Suburban was like driving a cloud, and I was able to make some very good time on that highway. I thought about how lucky we all were and about how much I loved Kevin and Rick.
       * * *
       We got to the cabin about 2:30 Central time. Of course, it was on Eastern time, so it was really 3:30. We threw our stuff in our rooms and hauled ass to the ski slopes. It was too late for lessons, so we went down a beginner's slope because of Justin and Tim. Brian and Denny didn't even try it, and Tim and Justin were both scared. They made it down, but they didn't enjoy it all that much. After the second run, Tim and Jus got their ski legs. They had a much better time going down three or four more runs.
       We didn't stay late. We were all starving, but it was going to be too late to cook when we got home. Plus, we didn't have anything to cook. We went through a pizza drive-thru that we had been to before. We called ahead and told them what we wanted, and it was there waiting for us when we got there.
       After we ate, we all went in the hot tub. It was pretty damn cold out of that water, but, in the tub, it was wonderful. By 10:30 we were all dozing. That was the end of the first day of what was going to be a great trip.

Chapter 2

(Kyle's Perspective)
       The downstairs of the cabin had two bedrooms with queen size beds and a big room they called the game room that had several futons for sleeping and some other stuff, like a TV, a game table, and easy chairs. Tim and I got one of the bedrooms, Justin and Brian got the other one, and Denny got a futon. There was a wood-burning stove in the game room that was supposed to supplement the heat from the central heating system, if necessary. It was really cold down there when we went down, so we made a fire in the stove. We just used the wood that was already inside.
       Sometime during the night Denny woke me up.
       "Kyle, I'm cold," he said.
       He was standing on my side of the bed, naked.
       "Put some more wood in the stove," I said.
       "It's outside, and it's too cold to go out," he said.
       Shit, I thought.
       "Get in, then," I said.
       He was shivering, and his teeth were chattering. That little guy really was cold.
       "Let me warm you up," I said.
       I turned so I was facing his back, and I put my arms around him. His skin was ice cold to the touch, and it made a chill run through me. I put my right leg over his legs to help warm those up, and I got as close to him as I could. I was naked, too, and my dick was right up against his butt crack. I'm flesh and blood, just like the next guy, and doing that made me get hard.
       "I can feel your penis," he said softly.
       "I know. Just ignore it," I whispered.
       "I love you, Kyle," he said.
       He was breathing hard, and I figured he was turned on. I couldn't help that, though.
       "I love you, too. Now let's be quiet so we can get back to sleep. Are you getting warm?"
       "Yeah," he said.
       I could tell he was. He wasn't shivering anymore, and his teeth weren't chattering.
       He took my hand in his and moved it down to his dick. He wanted me to do something.
       "No, Denny. Not that, Bubba," I said.
       "I'm sorry, Kyle. I just . . . ."
       "I know, Bubba. Not that, though. Let's just go to sleep," I said.
       "Are you mad at me?" he asked.
       "No, I'm not mad at you, Denny, but if you keep talking, I'm going to get mad at you," I said. I said it light so he would know everything was okay.
       He giggled.
       "Good night," he said.
       "Good night, Bubba," I said.
       I moved my leg off his, and I backed up a little bit to give my dick some room. I thought about how strong the urge was and how easy I had boned up just then. Eventually I went off to sleep.
       We woke up the next morning with a big dog jumping on the bed. Justin and Brian were standing in the room, and they were both laughing.
       "Get up, sleepies," Justin said. "Let's go for a romp in the snow."
       "Hey, Trixie," Tim was saying, talking to her all sweet. She knew better than to lick, but that cold, wet nose was everywhere.
       "Has this dog been outside?" I asked.
       "Yeah. She had to pee," Justin said.
       "She must have been sniffing the snow or something," I said. "Her nose is like ice. Brian, make her get off the bed so we can get up."
       "Down, Trixie," Brian said, and she got off.
       I leaned over and gave Tim a good morning kiss. He looked cute, all sleepy and everything. We got up, and all three of us had our usual tent poles sticking out front.
       "Oh, hey, Denny," Tim said, like he was noticing him for the first time. "Did you sleep with us?"
       "I got cold, and Kyle let me get in. Nothing happened, though, Tim," Denny said.
       "I know that," Tim replied.
       Not for lack of trying, though, I thought.
       Justin and Brian were already dressed, and the three of us got dressed quick, too. We all put on sweats and went to the bathroom, one by one. I looked at my watch, and it was only seven o'clock, Eastern time. Six o'clock our time. I put on my shoes and socks, but Tim and Denny went upstairs barefoot.
       There was a big fire going in the fireplace in the living room. We huddled around it to get the morning chill off. I looked out the French doors all along one wall, and the valley below us was covered with snow. The Christmas tree farm down there looked like a picture postcard. I got my camera, went out on the deck, and started snapping. I got cold pretty quick, though, so I went back in. Kevin and Rick were just coming out into the living room, also in sweats.
       "Who made the fire?" I asked, after we all said good morning to them.
       "I did," Rick said. "I've been up a while. I ran a little bit."
       "Did Trixie run, too?" Tim asked.
       "Of course," Rick said. "She loved being out in the cold. You should have seen her playing in the snow. You need to get some pictures of that, Kyle. I wish we could take her to the slopes with us."
       That's where that cold nose had come from. It was always cool, but that morning it was really cold.
       Rick had made coffee, so we all got a cup. We sat in the living room.
       "We need to plan what we're going to do," Kevin said. "We need to get some groceries, too."
       "If the guys want to take some lessons, I think we ought to go to the mountain first thing before the classes fill up," Rick said.
       "Okay with me," Kevin said. "Is that okay with you, guys?"
       It was okay with everybody. I figured we'd stop on the way for something to eat, and that's what we did. We found a little mom-and-pop diner, and we got breakfast.
       When the girl brought the menus to the table, she also brought a platter of biscuits that had country ham on them.
       "This here's a little something to get started on," she said. That mountain accent was hard to understand.
       There were coffee cups already on the table, and she started pouring for those who wanted coffee. I ate a biscuit right away, and it was the fluffiest thing I had ever put in my mouth. The ham was real salty and real good, too. I always soaked country ham in water to get some of that salt out, but they hadn't soaked theirs as much as I soaked mine.
       "These biscuits are enough for a meal," I said.
       That turned out not to be true, though. There were only two for each of us, and I needed more than that for a day in the cold. I scanned the menu. I pretty much knew what I wanted, but I just checked it to see what all they had. I was glad I did.
       "Do y'all see they have plain grits, cheese grits, and garlic grits?" I asked.
       "Garlic grits sound disgusting," Justin said. "Why would anybody mess up perfectly good grits with garlic? And for breakfast? They'll make your breath stink all day long."
       "Well, don't get 'em, then," Rick said.
       "Don't worry," Justin said.
       "It'll keep vampires away," Tim said.
       "I'll take my chances," Justin said. "Besides, I might want to have somebody sucking on my neck."
       Everybody laughed at what he said.
       The girl came back to take our orders.
       "Does anybody ever order the garlic grits?" Justin asked the waitress.
       "Yeah, a bunch of people do. Mostly with fried fish, though, like for lunch. Not too often for breakfast," she said. "They're pretty good."
       "Are y'all bothered by vampires around here?" he asked her.
       She must have been pretty sharp because she laughed right away. She knew he was flirting with her, and she was loving it.
       "Not too much since we put the garlic grits on the menu," she said. "Before that, you'd see people in here with these big ole marks on their necks."
       "I know what causes that, and it ain't no vampire," Justin said.
       She kind of leaned up against his chair.
       "I'll bet you do know," she said, nodding her head.
       She was really cute, but she could have kept an orthodontist busy for months. I could tell she wouldn't mind getting to know ole Justin a little better. Maybe get her one of those neck marks they were talking about.
       "What's going on here?" Brian asked, after the girl had left the table. I could tell he was in a playful mood, and I was getting ready to enjoy that.
       "Nothing's going on," Justin said. "Drink your juice."
       "Justin! I'm not deaf and blind, you know," Brian said.
       Justin got worried all of a sudden.
       "Did that bother you? We were just playing, Little Buddy," he said.
       There was real concern in Justin's voice, and I knew Brian didn't have the balls to make him sweat. I would have taken that to the nth degree. I knew Brian was fixing to cave, though. Sure enough, he did.
       "I know, Buddy. I'm just teasing you," Brian said.
       Shit, I thought.
       "Phew! You had me worried, baby. I thought you were mad at me, or something," Jus said.
       "The whole bunch of y'all are dick-whipped," Rick said with sort of mock disgust.
       "I'll admit it. I am, and so are you and Kevin, asshole," Justin said.
       "Me, too," I said. "She's cute, but none of us want any of that."
       "I don't know about that," Brian said.
       Justin got this look on his face like Brian had just said he was the anti-Christ.
       "I'm just teasing you, Justin. You know that," Brian said.
       "Let's change the subject," Justin said, and everybody laughed.
       * * *
       The skiing was very good that day, fast and smooth. Tim, Brian, and Denny took a lesson, and they joined us. We moved over to a beginner slope for a couple of runs till they were feeling at ease with it, and then we moved back to an intermediate run. We skied till around two o'clock, and we decided to get some lunch. I was glad, too, 'cause my breakfast was long gone.
       "I think my legs are about broke," Justin said. "It feels good to sit down."
       "I know what you mean. I'm thinking about calling it a day," Kevin said.
       "That sounds good to me, too," I said. "We got up at the damn ass-crack of dawn, just about. It was six o'clock Emerald Beach time, remember."
       "I got up even earlier than that," Rick said. "Of course, we could go over to a tube slope. That's not as demanding."
       He was like a damn kid. He never knew when to quit. I never did think he ate enough to have as much energy as he did, but that was none of my business.
       "I want to do some of that again," Tim said. "We had a good time tubing last year."
       "Me, too," Brian said. "Denny, it's really cool. We figured out how to make the tube spin."
       "I wouldn't mind doing some snow-boarding, too," I said.
       "Yeah, me, too," Rick said.
       After we ate, everybody felt a lot better. We ended up tubing for a couple of hours and then knocking off around five o'clock. We went back to the cabin and took showers. I decided not to shave while we were there, so I didn't. That hot water felt so good that it made me sort of sleepy. I didn't catch a nap, though. We had things to do.
       We all sat in the living room in front of the fire. I had on my sweats again, and that soft cloth felt real warm and real good. I had had on thermal underwear and lined blue jeans all day, and those things'll wear you out, all day long like that. I felt really relaxed in my sweats.
       "We need to do some shopping, guys," Kevin said.
       We made a shopping list, all giving input about what we wanted to eat. Kevin and Rick insisted on going shopping without us, so they took off.
       "What the hell is that all about?" Justin asked after they were gone.
       "They probably want some privacy, Buddy," Brian said.
       "For what? They ain't going to do anything in the grocery store," Justin said.
       "I know, but they just enjoy each other's company," Tim said. "We demand a lot of their time, you know?"
       "I think they left us here so we could have a drink," I said. I knew that was bullshit, but why not take advantage of the situation?
       "That's a good idea, Kyle," Justin said. "Make us some."
       "You guys are going to turn into alcoholics," Denny said. "Please don't do that."
       He was serious. I guess it was because his mom was a druggie.
       "Denny, they'd have to drink a whole lot more than they drink, over a very long period of time, for them to be alcoholics," Tim said. "They don't drink as much as most boys their age."
       "I just don't want any of you to ruin your lives," Denny said. "Addiction is a terrible thing. I know."
       "I know it is, Denny, but Justin and I aren't addicted to alcohol, and we're not going to get addicted," I said. "I had two drinks at Brian's party last Saturday, and I had a few during the holidays, but I don't drink every week, much less every day. You've never seen me drunk, have you?"
       "No," he said.
       "I've been drunk a few times in the past, but those were accidents. I've learned how to use alcohol to help celebrate, but I also think I've learned how to keep from abusing it. Using and abusing are two different things," I said.
       "Promise me you won't ever do that, Kyle," Denny said.
       "Do what?"
       "Abuse it," he said.
       "I won't, Denny," I said.
       I didn't feel like having a drink anymore after that. Shit!
       "Let's all have cokes," I said.
       And that's what we did. Later, when Kevin wanted a drink before dinner, Justin and I had one, too. I could feel it relaxing me as it was going down, but I couldn't get Denny's worried voice out of my head. I had been very careful after Tim and I had gotten real sick one night after drinking too much, and I already knew that would never happen again. In fact, Tim hadn't had a drink since that had happened, as far as I knew. I was going to watch it real close from then on, though, especially around Denny.

(Denny's Perspective)
       Charles Dickens started his novel A Tale of Two Cities with the words, "It was the best of times." Those words applied to me since I had moved in with Kevin and Rick and all the boys in Emerald Beach. I felt completely safe, completely taken care of, and completely at home where I was. My juvenile probation officer came to school to see me once a week at the start of the school year, but after about a month she knew I had no business being on probation. She had thugs to look after, not the likes of me, and she recommended to the judge in Blountstown that my probation be dropped. It was. I told Kevin and Rick about that, but I didn't mention it to the others. They knew I wasn't a thug or a criminal, and they didn't care about that.
       I couldn't believe how nice they all were to me. I had been in a foster home the first time my mom was arrested, but it hadn't been for very long. Those people were probably doing the best they knew how, but they had a million rules that didn't make any real sense and were just an inconvenience to me. I mean, they didn't want me to read in bed. They wanted me asleep by eight o'clock. I was in a room with three other boys, and they made us turn off the light at eight. Most nights, the others talked for a couple of hours, usually about which girls they'd like to have sex with. I just listened, thinking the whole time I could get so much more out of reading a book than I could out of listening to the stuff they talked about.
       At the house in Emerald Beach, Kevin and Rick treated me like I was fifteen years old, which, by the way, I was. They didn't put ridiculous restrictions on me. They let me talk on the phone as much as I needed to. They even gave me my own cell phone. I didn't want to talk all that much at first, but eventually I had people to call about class work and, especially, about debate. They let me get a snack anytime I wanted to. That wasn't that much in the grand scheme of things, but it was nice to have that kind of freedom. If I wanted to go out with the other boys, say for ice cream or pizza or just to hang out in the clubhouse at night, that was okay with them. They trusted me, and that was the best part.
       Sure, I had chores to do, just like the rest, but they were things that really had to be done. They weren't make-work chores like at the other place. They had a maid who came once a week, and she put clean sheets on my bed. I had to strip it, though, and put the sheets and pillow cases in the wash before she got there. The towels, too. That was not a big deal.
       "They make us strip our beds so the maid doesn't have to deal with cum," Justin told me.
       I'm sure I blushed when he told me that, but it made sense. The same with towels. Sure, I had to remember to get those downstairs, but that was reasonable. It was a chore, but it was something that made sense to me.
       We took turns putting the garbage can out at the street. I had to do it on Monday nights, and Justin did it on Thursday nights. Justin and I also had to unload the dishwasher when the dishes were done and turn it on when it was full. One of us had to set the coffeepot up and turn the timer on every night. Brian was in charge of looking after Trixie. He had to make sure she had fresh water all the time and that she got fed when she was supposed to. He also had to let her out to do her business when she wanted to. Actually, whoever happened to be around when she went to the door took care of that, but Brian always let her out before he went to bed. He had to wash her once a week, and he, and sometime Justin, too, got in the big tub in Kevin and Rick's room to bathe her. Taking care of Trixie was a labor of love for him, though.
       Kyle didn't really have a regular chore, but he seemed to be the entertainment coordinator. He took care of organizing parties, and we had quite a few of those. Sometimes some of the friends would bring all the food and drink over, but it was always at our house. We had really nice party facilities, and I guess they had it worked out that sometimes we would entertain all the friends at our house, and sometimes others would entertain all the friends at our house. We always met new people when somebody else hosted it. Kyle wasn't officially in charge when others brought the stuff, but he was always right there in the middle of it. He made sure we had what we needed for a party, though, even if somebody else was bringing the food and drink. Kyle and Jeff kept up the family homepage on the Internet, too, and never a week went by that it wasn't updated, sometimes substantially so.
       I don't think Tim had any regular chores except to bring his and Kyle's sheets and towels downstairs. He and Kyle did a good bit of the grocery shopping, but I think Tim just went along because Kyle wanted him to. Since Tim and Kyle didn't officially live there, they both sort of just pitched in where they were needed.
       "Denny, about last night," Kyle said to me the first time he and I were alone on the slope.
       I was paralyzed with fear when he said that.
       "Kyle, I'm soooooo sorry," I said.
       "For what? For being a guy?" He was grinning.
       "You mean you're not mad at me?" I asked anxiously.
       "Hell, no, I'm not mad at you. I told you that last night. What happened last night was natural and normal. You got hard and I got hard. No shame in that, Bubba. But I want you to know, I'm not going to do anything with you, okay? Tim is my life, and I'm not ready to give up my life," he said.
       "I know. That's why I feel so bad about it," I said.
       "Don't feel bad, man. What happened was normal and natural when two naked gay boys are all over each other. I should have thought about that before it happened. I figured you were probably feeling bad about it, and that's why I wanted to talk to you. Do not feel bad, okay?" he said.
       "That takes a load off me, Kyle," I said.
       "Good. Let's have fun today, okay?" he said.
       And I did have fun. A whole lot more fun than I ever thought I would. I mean, I'm not an athlete at all. But there I was, skiing with the rest of them. I didn't go as fast as they did, and I wasn't real steady on my feet, but I had a great time. I never would have expected that, either.
       * * *
       We skied a lot that weekend, but, of course, that was why we had gone there. We did other things, though, including going to a flower shop in the town of Highlands. The rest of them were friends of the guys who ran the place.
       "Steve and Frank, I want you to meet our newest son. This is Denny Morgan," Kevin said when he introduced me to them.
       "How do you do, Denny," Steve said.
       "Nice to meet you, Denny," Frank said.
       They were both really nice, and I could tell they were probably gay. It was Sunday afternoon, and there wasn't anybody else in the shop but us. They had some unbelievably beautiful flower arrangements around the place. Of course, they were really in the business of selling flowers and the vases you put them in, and the shop was very crowded.
       They made small talk with Kevin and Rick while we looked around the shop.
       "Damn, look how pretty this thing is," Justin said. "This looks like it could be dessert."
       "Don't eat it," Kyle said.
       Kyle was very busy with his camera taking pictures of those flower arrangements and the other stuff in the store, all of which was beautiful. Kevin gathered us up.
       "Steve and Frank were expecting a group this afternoon for a flower-arranging class, but they called about a half hour ago and cancelled. Their van broke down, and they can't get here. They were wondering if we'd like to have a lesson. The flowers will just go to waste if we don't use them," Kevin said.
       "Kevin, I don't know about flower arranging, Bubba," Justin said.
       "You think somebody's going to think you're queer if you do it, don't you?" Kyle said.
       Justin put his hand to his mouth like he was thinking or something, and then he shrugged.
       "Well, guess what, Bubba. Everybody knows where this thing hangs out," Kyle said, grabbing Justin's crotch.
       "Cut it out, Goodson," Justin said.
       I could tell he wasn't the least bit angry at Kyle. That was one of the ways they teased each other, and it was always funny.
       "Cut it out?! I'll cut it off, Davis. You hide and watch, son," Kyle said.
       "Here we are, surrounded by all this gorgeous stuff, getting ready to learn something about the ancient Japanese fine art of Ikebana, and you're talking about cutting his dick off," Rick said. "Kyle and Justin, y'all have risen to a new level of refinement."
       Everybody, including Steve and Frank, laughed hard when Rick said that.
       "We're just playing, Rick," Kyle said. "Plus, I want to learn how to do it."
       "I know you're playing, Kyle," Rick said. "And so am I."
       "What is it you say? Got you last, or something?" Steve said.
       We all laughed when Steve said that.
       The class was actually pretty good. They took a few minutes to tell us about the history and tradition of Ikebana, and they explained the symbolism of what we were going to be making that day. Steve and Frank each made one as they were explaining to us what to do, and somehow theirs were ten times better than ours were.
       Kyle saw the whole thing as a photo opportunity, and he spent most of his time taking pictures of us working. The best ones he got were of Justin and Rick, and, when we looked at those later on the computer that Steve and Frank had in their house above the store, you could really see the intense concentration and utter frustration on both of their faces. The pictures of Steve and Frank were great, too, and there was absolutely no question that they were master teachers. There were three or four pictures of the two of them looking at each other and laughing at some wisecrack, and it was pretty obvious they were in love.
       After the class, they closed the store. We all went up to their residence above the store, and they made tea and drinks for us. In about fifteen minutes they brought out food, too, and it was really good.
       "Does this qualify as a tea party?" I asked.
       "Absolutely," Frank said.
       "I've read so much about tea parties, but this is the first time I've ever been to one. I've wanted to go to a tea party all my life," I said.
       "Well, you're at one now, Denny," Steve said. "I wish we had more to offer. Next time you all come up here, please let us know in advance so we'll be ready."
       "Steve, this is all wonderful," Kevin said. "We stopped by the shop to say hello, not to be entertained like you guys have done. This food is wonderful."
       "It's left over from the holidays, mostly," Steve said. "Frank's son and his wife were here for Christmas, and we made a lot more things than we ended up needing. We had people in several times, though."
       "We've got a grandchild on the way, boys," Frank said. "Steve and I are just beside ourselves over that."
       "Cool. We're getting us a baby in July," Justin said. "Our sister-in-law."
       "It's in June, dumbass," Kyle said.
       "Nope. It's going to be born on my birthday, July 4th," Justin said. "He is, I mean. I just know it's going to be a boy, and I just know he's going to be born on my birthday."
       We all took our little flower arrangements home. They were very delicate and fragile looking, but you could definitely see that there was art involved. I bought a book on Ikebana because I really liked doing it. We lined the flower arrangements up down the middle of the dining table of the cabin, and they really looked good. Maybe I could get good at it, following the directions in the book, and contribute to our parties that way.

(Jeff's Perspective)
       I had been totally in love with Clay Goodson, and I still thought about him every day. But I was totally in love with Tyler Jones, too. I wouldn't let myself compare Tyler to Clay, but they were so incredibly much alike. Of course, they were each their own man, but whatever it was in a man that enabled me to love him, each one had it.
       "I can't believe this house," Ty said, "and that we can afford it."
       "Ty, I've been completely open with you about my past," I said.
       "I know, and I don't have a problem with any of it," he said. "I don't see Clay as my rival, Jeff."
       "Clay's parents are very rich, and they consider me their son," I said.
       "I know, and I also know that's why we're living here for two hundred bucks a month, instead of the thousand it's worth," Ty said. "I know where we stand with each other, Baby. I know you love me."
       "I do love you," I said, "every bit as much as I loved Clay. More, even. I don't see our relationship ever ending, either."
       He got rather thoughtful. Ty was usually very outgoing and lively, and I did the brooding for the two of us. I knew that when he got in the kind of mood he was in just then that something was up. I didn't say anything, waiting for him to tell me what was on his mind. Finally he spoke.
       "I don't see it ever ending either, Jeff," he said. "We've been together since last May, and it's time for my parents to meet you."
       That was a thunder clap, if ever there was one.
       "You're not out to them, are you?" I asked.
       "Not yet," he said. "But I think it's time."
       "Are you sure, Ty?" I asked.
       "I'm sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I'm sure you want to spend the rest of your life with me. I'm not dependent on my parents for financial support. There's never going to be a perfect time, but it seems to me that this is as good a time as any," he said.
       "This is pretty overwhelming to me, you know?" I said.
       "Why?"
       "You just said you want to spend the rest of your life with me. I've been hoping that was the case for months, but you just said it," I said.
       He cuddled me in his arms.
       "Did you ever doubt that?" he asked.
       "Well, no, but you never said it. Until tonight. It's like our wedding or something," I said.
       "No. We're going to have a public ceremony, even if it's only with our friends. I'm not ever letting you go, Baby, and I want the immediate world to know about it," he said. "I'd like my parents and my brother to be there, too."
       We kissed and cooed and did all the things lovers do when they get engaged. I was so happy my heart was about to burst. There were so many people I wanted to tell. Kyle and Tim and Gene and Rita, first of all, and Kevin and Rick. And Justin and Brian. And George and Sonya. And Ed, Beth, Craig, and Cherie. And all of our family.
       "Lets call my parents," Ty said.
       "Are you sure?" I asked.
       "I want to tell them about us in person, but I want to call to see if we can visit them," he said.
       "When can we go?" I asked.
       "Aren't you off school for the Martin Luther King holiday?" he asked.
       "Yeah. Kevin and Rick and the guys are going to North Carolina to ski. They started hinting that they wanted us to go, too, but I begged off. One of these times we're going to have to go, I'm afraid," I said.
       "Afraid? Hell, I love to ski," he said.
       I don't know that he had ever actually told me that before, but everything about him let me know it was true.
       "We'll go next time," I said. "I promise."
       He smiled at me in a way that said he'd do whatever I wanted to do. Always.
       He dialed his parents' number and both parents got on the line. We had a speaker phone, but we didn't turn it on. Instead, we balanced the receiver between us so we could both hear what they said.
       After the usual greetings and questions about how everyone was, he got to the point.
       "Mom and Dad, I've got a few days off in a couple of weeks. I was thinking about coming home, if that's okay," he said.
       "Since when do you have to ask us if you can come home, Ty?" his mother asked.
       "Well, I know, but I'd like to bring a friend with me, too," he said.
       "Your friends have always been welcome here. You know that," his dad said.
       "Yes, sir," he said.
       They worked out the details of when the visit would occur. After the phone call, we got on the Internet and bought some plane tickets, and we were all set to leave on Friday, January 16th. We'd come home the following Tuesday. If our news wasn't well received, we'd get in our rental car and haul ass for Minneapolis. That wasn't on my short list of places for a winter vacation, but we'd see what happened. Besides, that's where our return flight would leave from.
       * * *
       "How do you think they're going to take the news?" I asked one evening a couple of days before we left.
       We were holding one another on the sofa in the living room, a fire burning in the hearth. We broke apart long enough for Ty to put a rather substantial oak log on the fire. It would keep us warm all night. And then we resumed cuddling.
       "Well, you always like to think your parents are going to accept you, no matter what, you know?" he said.
       "I thought mine would," I said.
       "Ouch, Baby. I'm sorry," he said.
       "No, that's all right. I honestly never thought they'd disown me. I mean, I knew they had done that to my brother, or at least had forced him out of their lives, but two for two? What are the odds?" I asked.
       "My brother might have a problem with it," he said. "I don't think he's very big on gay guys. He used to refer to a guy he knew as 'Nelly.'"
       "That might not be a good sign, but neither one of us is a Nelly," I said.
       "I know. Give me a kiss," he said.
       That started the ball rolling, as it were. In no time, we were both naked on the floor in front of the fireplace. We made some serious love, but, romantic novels aside, that setting really isn't all that great for love-making. I was the top that night, and my ass was not more than a couple of feet from the flames. In the throes of passion, Tyler grabbed both of my butt cheeks to pull me deeper into him.
       "God, your ass is hot," he said.
       "Ohhh," I said, wanting to respond but not really knowing what to say to that.
       "Seriously, Jeff," he said.
       We were both very close to climax, and I wasn't interested in conversation right then. In another couple of minutes, it was all over for both of us. I rolled off him, and my butt hit the carpet.
       "God!" I screamed.
       My ass was hot, and it hurt like hell rubbing on that carpet. He started laughing hysterically.
       "It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked between guffaws.
       "Yes, it hurts. Jesus!" I said.
       I got up on my hands and knees over him, and I leaned in to kiss him. I saw the humor of what had happened and laughed, too. I got up right after that.
       "I think this was a bad idea," he said, still laughing.
       "When you said my ass was hot, I thought you meant . . . "
       "I know," he said. "I meant that, but I meant hot to the touch, too." He was still laughing.
       We got up off the floor, and he got some lotion to soothe the pain. He did a number on me rubbing it in, and Mister Happy came back to life. What followed was so good that I didn't care about the pain anymore. I made a mental note to be careful in the future, though. Hot love is only a metaphor, after all.

Chapter 3

(Tyler's Perspective)
       I won't deny being nervous and apprehensive about taking Jeff home to meet my parents. I kept going over and over everything I could remember about any negative attitudes they might have toward gay people, and, for the life of me, nothing came to mind. I vaguely remembered my dad saying one time that one of the guys he worked with was probably gay, but I don't recall any distaste in his voice.
       My older brother was a wildcard. I really had no way of knowing how he'd feel about it. He was ten years older than me, and he wasn't married. He had dated a girl very seriously through college, but they had gone their separate ways when they graduated. I didn't think there was much chance he was also gay, but I suppose that was a possibility. Anyway, we'd have to wait and see about him. He lived in St. Paul, where he worked as a reporter on the daily newspaper, but I knew he'd come home to see me.
       My parents didn't meet us at the airport. Instead, Jeff and I rented a car and drove out to their place. It was about thirty minutes out of St. Paul, and it was pretty rural. There was a little town about five minutes from our house, and that's where my parents worked. My mom was a teacher in the elementary school there, and my dad worked for an insurance company taking care of the farmers all around there.
       "My God, it's cold," Jeff said.
       "I wish you had been able to buy a good coat," I said.
       "I tried, remember? They just don't sell coats heavy enough for this kind of weather in Emerald Beach. Maybe I can pick up something here," he said.
       "Or wear one of mine. I've got two or three in my closet," I said.
       "Your soon-to-be-empty closet," he said. We both laughed.
       My parents were waiting eagerly for us when we got there. It was a Friday afternoon around four o'clock, and it was already almost dark. It was cloudy, so that probably contributed as much to the lack of light as the time of day did.
       After all the kissing and hugging and hand shaking, they took us into the kitchen for something hot to drink. My mom had been busy in there, and the aroma of pot roast, my favorite dish, filled the room.
       "Are you in the Coast Guard also, Jeff," my mom asked to start things off.
       "No, ma'am. I'm in college, and I work part-time at a hotel," he said.
       "Hotel? How interesting," she said. "What do you do there?"
       "I'm a desk clerk," he said.
       "You're actually in management training, though," I said.
       "Well, true," he said.
       "I'll bet that's interesting work," Dad said. "Ty, that might be a field for you to consider when your hitch is up. By the way, that's only in a couple of months, isn't it?"
       "May 31st is my last day, Dad. I've got leave built up, so I'm planning to start college in the first summer session at the beginning of May," I said.
       "In Florida?" he asked.
       "Yes," I said softly.
       I could tell that went over like a load of elephant shit.
       "Dad, I've tried to talk to you and Mom about that, but you never wanted to discuss it," I said. Keep calm, I thought.
       "Well, we miss you terribly, son, but your father and I know that you're a grown man now. Besides, I watch the temperatures down there, and I really can't say that I blame you for not wanting to come back here to live," Mom said.
       "It's that, Mom, but it's more than that, too." Here goes, I thought. The moment of truth.
       "Is there a girl?" she asked, all smiles.
       "No," I said. "Mom and Dad, there's not really an easy way to say this." I took a deep breath. "I'm gay, and Jeff and I are in love." There, I had said it.
       I don't really know what I expected, but what I got was dead silence. In a few seconds, my mom put her hands on mine on the kitchen table. That was reassuring.
       "You'll always be our son, Ty," she said.
       "And we'll always love you," my dad said. "Thank you for having the courage to tell us face-to-face, son. It would have been so much easier to write us a letter or to even tell us on the phone. Thank you for respecting us enough to want to tell us in person. Now you'll have to leave."
       I was stunned. I couldn't believe I had just heard that.
       "Dad?"
       "Henry?" my mom said, shocked.
       "Oh, I'm just kidding. Lighten up, for God's sake. Let's have a drink to celebrate," he said.
       Relief flooded over me. I looked at Jeff, and he mouthed, "Got you last!"
       "I'll say," I said.
       "You'll say what?" Dad asked. He was already busy putting ice in glasses.
       I explained the game of Got You Last, and he thought that was hilarious. Once he laughed, we all relaxed, and I laughed at the whole situation.
       We picked up our coffee cups for the dishwasher and took our drinks into the den. Mom must have planned for us to have drinks because she brought out a tray with cheese and crackers, mixed nuts, and summer sausage slices.
       They had a million questions, of course. They both seemed to like Jeff, and I knew they liked the fact that he managed to get a "ma'am" or a "sir" in virtually every utterance. I was so proud of him.
       My dad asked me to join him in the kitchen to make a second round of drinks.
       "Son, I want to apologize for saying what I said earlier. That was very insensitive, but it was well intentioned, at least."
       "You don't have to apologize, Dad. I should have figured you for something like that. I was so intense, though, I wasn't thinking right," I said.
       "Well, he seems like a really nice guy, son, and it's pretty obvious just from looking at the two of you that you're very much in love. You have our full support, now and forever," he said.
       I had promised myself that come hell or high water I wasn't going to cry. When he said that, though, I couldn't hold back. He grabbed me in a huge hug.
       "These are happy tears, Dad," I said.
       When I looked at his face, he had moist eyes, as well.
       When we calmed down, we both splashed a little fridged water from the tap on our faces and took the fresh drinks in to the others.
       "Have you fellows been crying?" my mom asked, rather alarmed.
       "Happy tears, dear," Dad said. "Happy tears."
       * * *
       The rest of the visit with my parents was a delight. It was cold, of course, but otherwise the weather was almost perfect. We had a couple of inches of snow on Sunday to add to the foot or so that was already on the ground, and Jeff enjoyed watching it from inside the house.
       My brother came over on Saturday night. After dinner, Jeff and I went out with him to see a movie and to have a few beers. We told him about us while sitting at a table in the bar, and his reaction was total acceptance. He said he figured we were lovers by our body language and by the way we reacted to what the other one said.
       After my second beer, I worked up the courage to ask him if he were gay.
       "No. At least not fully," he said.
       He didn't volunteer any more information, and I didn't probe, although I was dying to. Because of the difference in our ages, he and I had never been close. I liked him well enough, and I suppose I even loved him in some vague way, but I basically didn't know the man.
       We flew out on Monday afternoon. The next night the guys were back from North Carolina, so we went to Kevin and Rick's house to fill them all in on what had happened and to hear stories about their trip. I had always felt perfectly at home there, but that night I felt even more at ease with them than usual. I guess coming out to my family had had that effect.

(Kevin's Perspective)
       We only had a little over a week after we got home from the ski trip before George and Sonya's wedding. In addition to my family from New Orleans, the out-of-town guests were going to include George's parents, Sonya's siblings and a few cousins and old friends, and a mob of cousins from Boston. George and Sonya had made a quick trip up there right after Christmas so his family could meet her, and I knew it would be quite festive with everybody there.
       The Bostonians were all staying at the Laguna, and Gene insisted we comp the whole crowd. That didn't seem unreasonable, given that George was his best friend. Rita again wanted my parents to stay at their house. I think she felt beholden to them for their hospitality while we were in New Orleans. Not only that, she had that magnificent new house she most definitely wanted to show off. Rick's parents had wanted to come, but they couldn't get away. Craig and Cherie were invited to stay at the Goodsons', but they really wanted to be where the boys were. They were going to stay with us, too.
       "Do we need to put anybody up at the condo?" Kyle asked.
       "I had forgotten about that, Kyle," I said. "I don't think we're going to need it, though."
       "Maybe all the boys can have a sleepover there one night," he said.
       "That would be fun," Tim said. "I want you to get to know my cousins better. That would be a good time to do it."
       * * *
       The people arrived during the day on Thursday, and we helped get everybody squared away. Rita and Gene were hosting a cocktail party that night, and then the adults were going out to eat. Gene had commandeered the entire dining room at the Boardwalk for the evening. It was our best restaurant, and the room wasn't so large that a single party would feel overwhelmed. The kids weren't invited to dinner. Instead, our crew would entertain all of them at our house.
       I had been around rich people all my life, and I had been to some pretty amazing entertainments, especially connected with functions for debutants. But I had never been to anything quite like the party Rita and Gene gave.
       There were probably 200 people there. It seemed that every doctor and dentist in Emerald Beach showed up. Mix in the twenty or so guys George and Gene played golf with, and their wives, George's family, our family and our extended family of close friends, Sonya's family and friends, their mutual friends, and all of us, and that made for quite a crowd.
       The house was exquisite. Rita had been a slave driver with her decorator, and the place was furnished with perfect taste. There were two bars, one inside and one on the patio, with two bartenders at each. The food was fabulous, of course, and there were uniformed waiters passing trays of canapés all evening. The buffet table in the dining room looked like it could have fed a small army, and everything I ate was scrumptious.
       Kyle had both cameras at the ready. I walked over to talk to him and the other three boys.
       "Ole Flash is learning how to give a party," Justin said. "Ain't you, Flash?"
       Justin was being about as playful as he ever got, and he rubbed Kyle's cheek with the back of the fingers on his right hand.
       "Get off me! What are you? Queer, or something?"
       Kyle was using his mock angry tone.
       "Something like that," Justin said. "You sure are mighty handsome tonight, Kylie."
       Tim and Brian were almost choking with laughter.
       "If you touch me again, you're going to pull back a nub," Kyle said.
       "Oh, yeah?"
       He rubbed his face again.
       "Justin, you have exactly thirty minutes to cut that shit out, and I mean it," Kyle said.
       That made everybody laugh, of course.
       "I'm just playing, but you do look good, Bubba," Jus said.
       "Thanks. So do you," he said.
       "Thanks," Jus said.
       The fact of the matter was, they all looked good. They all had fresh haircuts, and for once nobody had any experimental facial hair. I never knew people who grew as many beards, mustaches, sideburns, goatees, and random patches of hair on their faces as they did. Some were simple, like a little patch immediately below their bottom lips, but some were very elaborate and required quite a bit of maintenance, like the thin ribbons of beard they sometimes wore. They'd let them grow for a week or two, and then they'd shave them off. Their friends did the same thing, and it was never possible to predict what any of them would look like. Some of the friends experimented with hair color, too, but our boys pretty much stuck with their natural shades, with the odd highlighting job thrown in from time to time.
       Tim introduced Rick and me to his Boston cousins. There were twelve of them in all, including the adults, and in that setting the four boy cousins seemed to look enough alike to be quadruplets. Keeping straight who was who was impossible. I noticed Denny talking quite a bit with the oldest one, whose name was Paddy. They seemed to be hitting it off quite nicely. They separated from the rest and went outside.
       "Denny homed in on the only gay one right away," Tim said.
       "Is Paddy gay?" I asked.
       "Yeah. And he's extremely nice, Kevin. Don't worry about Denny," Tim said.
       "I'm not worried," I said.
       I really wasn't worried, but I was dying to know what they were talking about.
       "His brother, Tony, is the one I punched out," Tim said. "I was talking to him a little while ago, and he and I are the best of friends now. They're all really nice, Kevin."
       Brian was paired up with cousin Anne Ryan. She was gorgeous, and she appeared to be around Brian's age.
       "You better watch your boy there," Kyle said to Justin.
       There was a wonderful string quartet, and Brian and Anne had started dancing.
       "Kyle, you don't give me a minute's peace, now do you?" Justin asked.
       "Nope," Kyle said, grinning his face off.
       "Let's get a drink," Justin said.
       The two of them walked outside to the patio bar. Even though it was January 29th, the temperature was in the high sixties or low seventies, balmy, to say the least. The Bostonians couldn't stop commenting on the gorgeous weather, but to us it was nothing special.
       Justin and Kyle drifted over toward Paddy and Denny, and everybody but Denny lit up cigarettes. I knew Justin was still smoking every day, but Kyle had pretty much become a non-smoker. I thought about how Rick and I had characterized Kyle as The Smoker before we really got to know him, and I smiled.
       "What are you smiling at?" Rick asked.
       "Kyle is outside smoking," I said.
       "Really? I thought he didn't smoke anymore," Rick said.
       "I don't think he does very often. I was remembering what you and I used to call him when we first met him," I said.
       "The Smoker?"
       "Yeah," and Rick and I both laughed.
       "God, how stupid was that?" Rick asked.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       After that cocktail party, I took everybody back to Kevin and Rick's house. The grown-ups had to go eat dinner, and the kids were on their own. I knew my parents wanted the Foley-Mashburn boys to go to dinner with them, but the place really wasn't big enough for the five of us, the four Cooks, and the four Ryans. Jeff and Tyler went to the restaurant, though. They were more in the grown-up league than Justin and I were. Plus, we had to entertain the Boston people.
       Believe it or not, they were all hungry when we got home. I had eaten me a damn ton of food at the party, and I knew Justin, Tim, and Brian had, too. I don't think the rest of them really liked that kind of food, though, so they didn't eat too much, including Denny. I ordered pizza.
       Tim was taking the next day off school to entertain his cousins, and I volunteered to do the same thing. Justin had two classes he didn't feel like he could miss the next morning, but he was taking the day off work to be with us. That was pretty easy for him to do in January, when the hotel just had business guests and no tourists, except for the wedding people. In another month it would be packed with Spring Breakers, but they had some slack time just then. Brian and Denny were going to school as usual, though.
       Trixie was a hit with the girls. Trixie and Brian.
       "You're not leading my cousins on, are you, Bubba?" Tim asked Brian.
       Brian laughed at his best friend. "No. They know I'm gay and that Justin's my boyfriend," Brian said.
       "Just checking," Tim said. "I don't want to see Justin's heart broken."
       I loved it when Tim and Brian teased each other. They were as close as me and Justin were, and you really saw it at times like that. They weren't as physical with each other as me and Jus, but that worked for them. Those were two damn cute boys, though, and don't think those girls didn't notice that fact.
       After we ate the pizza, the girls settled into the den with a movie. The boys all went out to the clubhouse. We got pool, ping pong, and darts going pretty quick. Kevin and Rick didn't lock up the booze out there, and I made drinks for everybody but Tim, Brian, and Denny. There had been some birthdays since we had first met them in Boston. Paddy, Justin, and I were eighteen. Tony Ryan and Steve Cook were seventeen. Tim, Brian, and Billy Cook were sixteen. Denny was the only fifteen-year-old out there. But Denny's age didn't matter one bit.
       "I can't get over how warm it is," Tony said. "Is it always like this here?"
       "It gets down into the thirties sometimes, but just at night, and only for a day or two in a row," Tim said.
       "So, do you guys swim year round?" Tony asked.
       "Sometimes it's too cool, but the pool's heated," Tim said. "Are you interested in swimming?"
       They all perked up with that question.
       "I would love to be able to go home and tell my friends we swam outdoors at the end of January," Billy said.
       "Kyle, do you think we could turn on the heat?" Tim asked me.
       "I'm way ahead of you, Babe," I said. "It's been on since before we left for the party tonight."
       "We didn't bring our suits," Steve said.
       "We never wear 'em," Justin said.
       "But our sisters are right inside," Paddy said.
       "Tim, let's go talk to the girls," I said.
       He and I went inside. We told them we wanted to swim and they were welcome to join us.
       "But we'll be swimming naked," I said.
       "Oh, gross," Anne said.
       The rest of them agreed with Anne.
       "You have two choices. You can stay in here and finish watching your movie, or you can come outside, get naked, and swim with us," I said.
       No, no, no. They didn't want to swim with us.
       "I'm going to close these curtains," I said. "If we see you peeking, we're coming to get you, and you're getting naked."
       They all said, "Ewwwww," and "Gross," and shit like that, but they also giggled quite a bit.
       "Kyle's just teasing, but the guys are going skinny dipping," Tim said.
       "Tim, you know what? We don't care," Anne said.
       We all laughed.
       "I really didn't think you did," Tim said.
       "Besides, we've all seen them before. We all have brothers, and it really is no big deal to us," Laurie said.
       "I just wish Brian wasn't gay," Anne said.
       "Yeah, but he is, Anne," Tim said. "Do you like him? He's my best friend."
       "I like him very much. I think he might be the best looking boy I've ever seen," she said.
       Tim and I both laughed.
       "Do you know his photograph is in a museum in Arizona?" Tim asked.
       "No! I can see why it would be, though," she said. "He is mad gorgeous."
       "Well, we need to go swim," Kyle said. "Help yourselves to whatever you want in the kitchen. Or anywhere, for that matter."
       Tim and I went back to the clubhouse.
       "They're all cool with us swimming," I said.
       "Brian, Anne wishes you weren't gay," Tim said.
       "I know. She told me that," Bri said.
       "Gay, schmay, let's get in the pool," Tony said.
       We all got naked and dove in. The water was a little warmer than I liked it, but I couldn't do anything about that. Those Boston boys were mighty skinny, and there wasn't even a trace of a tan anywhere. In the wee-wee department, they were all circumcised, just like all of us but Tim. There was one grower, one shower, and two in-betweens.
       Trixie was in the pool with us, of course. I think that dog was part otter or part seal or something. She was up and down, in and out, under the water and on top of it all the time. She was really fun to play with in the pool.
       The Boston boys were having a great time, and I was having a good time, too. We were diving and dunking and playing around. I felt sorry for ole Tony one time. He did a canon ball and didn't know to hold his nuts. He came up screaming in pain. We were all laughing at him, but every one of the Florida boys knew what that was all about because we had all done it at one time or another. Water in a pool looks pretty soft, but if you come running across the deck and canon ball in without protecting yourself, you're going to feel it.
       "Is this what they call male bonding?" Steve asked.
       "I think it is, cousin," Tim said.
       "I think so, too, Tim, and I like it," Steve said, grinning.
       "Do you like it, or do you like us?" Tim asked.
       "What do you think?"
       "I think you like us, Steve," Tim said.
       "No argument here," Steve said. "You guys are cool."
       Those were very nice guys, and I was glad we knew them. It just goes to show you. You can get people together from all over the damn place, New England, the South. Gay? Straight? It didn't matter, as long as they had one goal in mind: FUN. Those guys proved to me that it didn't matter where you were from, who you liked to sleep with, or anything else. There were sports fans and sports haters in that crowd. That didn't matter. Religion didn't matter. Dick size didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was we were willing to risk liking one another and to have fun. And we damn sure did.

(Justin's Perspective)
       This whole wedding thing was new to me. Before I came to Emerald Beach, I didn't really know anybody who was married. I mean, I knew some guys who said they were married, like some of them that tore up my butt in Alabama, but I didn't really know them.
       I really didn't know what being a couple was all about, either, until I met Kevin and Rick. I learned fast from them, though. I just naturally assumed that me and Brian were married, sort of, and one day I wanted us to go through a ceremony and everything like that. I didn't think that would really change anything for us, but it would sort of make it official. I wanted him to say in front of God and everybody that he was mine forever, and I was his. I really wanted that.
       I went to class on Friday morning. I had biology and math, and I didn't want to get behind in either one of them. Besides, I knew we were going to have to miss a couple of classes when we went to Mardi Gras. After class I went home and caught up with Kyle, Tim, and the others.
       "Who wants to ski," Kyle asked.
       "Ski?" one Boston boy asked, like Kyle had asked the strangest question in the world.
       "Water ski," Tim said.
       "Oh. I'd like to try," Steve or Billy or one of them said.
       "We'll have to use wet suits," Kyle said, "but we've got enough."
       There wasn't a soul out on that lagoon that morning, and the day was beautiful. We decided not to take Trixie with us. She still wanted to dive in every time somebody fell so she could retrieve them or something, and that was a real pain. She'd get back in that boat and start shaking off water all over the place. That was one thing in the hot summertime, but it was the dead of winter.
       Kyle told the Boston boys how to do it.
       "Keep on your underwear. They'll get wet, but that's better than having that wetsuit rub you raw down there," he said. "And don't get embarrassed if something pops up. It happens to somebody every time we use the wetsuits. It's nothing you can help, and it's nothing to be ashamed of."
       It happened to me every damn time, that's for sure, and I figured it would happen again that day. More than once I had come in the damn thing, too. I mean, I didn't mind doing that, but it made me feel a little self-conscious. Kyle, of course, teased the shit out of me about it every damn time it happened, but that was just him and me, and how we did. I knew he wouldn't tease them or me in front of them.
       The skiing was fun. We had to show the Boston boys how to do it, but it isn't hard to learn. Me, Kyle, and Tim just use a slalom ski, but we taught the others on two skis at first. After a while, they got the hang of it, and a couple of them wanted to slalom. Only one of them could get up on that, though.
       We broke for lunch around one o'clock, and I think everybody on the boat had a hard-on. Kyle pulled off his wet underwear, and he was rock hard and standing tall. Tim and I didn't think anything about it, but those other four had eyes popping out over that thing. I figured there was no way they hadn't seen each other like that, being brothers and cousins and all, but I guess they always take you by surprise when you see a new one. Kyle got dressed as fast as he could, but I knew everybody had gotten a nice eyeful.
       After lunch we took the boat out to the island so they could see it. We kept our clothes on, though, because there was a pretty brisk wind coming off that Gulf.
       "This is the prettiest beach I've ever seen," Paddy said. "Do you guys come out here often?"
       "Pretty often," Tim said. "We camp out here sometimes, too."
       "That would be awesome," Tony said.
       "It is. You all need to come during the summer, and we'll do that," Tim said.
       "We could do it tonight, if we didn't have the rehearsal," Kyle said.
       We stayed out there a few hours, poking around and what not, and then we went back in.
       Tim and Kyle were going to be the best men in the wedding, so they had to go to the rehearsal at the church on Friday night. Brian and I were going to be ushers, so we had to go, too. Jerry was going to be the priest, and there was some lady there who was called the director. I reckon they were doing it like it was a movie or a play or something. She organized everybody and told us where to stand and what to do. I had to practice walking ladies down the aisle a time or two because I hadn't ever even seen that, much less done it before. We had to wear tuxes for it, and I was sort of excited about getting to wear one of those things. I had seen Kyle in one a few times, and it really looked good on him. We had all tried ours on when we had gotten them from the rental place, and I thought I was going to look just fine.
       After the rehearsal, we went to the rehearsal dinner at the Laguna. That was real nice, and Mr. Rooney was there to personally supervise it. I didn't know if the Food and Beverage Director really appreciated his help, but she got it whether she liked it or not. There were a lot more people at the dinner than there had been at the church, including all the Boston people. After the dinner, the nine boys, plus Jeff and Tyler, went to the condo for a sleepover.

(Beth's Perspective)
       When the boys were home in October, I got called out in the middle of the night because one of my patients, Ronnie Grisham, had been struck in the head with a whiskey bottle by his father and had thereby been rendered unconscious. His father had found out that Ronnie is gay, and the father had lost it in the middle of the night. He was drunk at the time.
       Ronnie recovered physically very quickly, but I had continued to monitor the case. He came in to see me for a follow-up visit right after Thanksgiving.
       "How are things at home, Ron?" I asked after my examination.
       He seemed fairly depressed, and he had lost weight. It was only ten pounds, which I would cheerfully drop tomorrow if I could, but, for a fifteen-year-old boy who wasn't obese, that was unacceptable. I had known Ron all his life, and he had always been a cheerful child. That day he didn't smile once, and he barely spoke to answer my questions. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he appeared listless. Those were classic symptoms of depression.
       "Okay, I guess," he said.
       "Are you sleeping enough, baby? How much sleep do you get every night?"
       "I sleep a lot. Too much," he said.
       "Are you and Aaron still boyfriends?" I asked.
       "No, ma'am. His parents won't let him come over to my house, and I can't go to his."
       "Why won't his parents let him come to your house?"
       "They found out about what my dad did to me, and they're afraid he might get Aaron, too," he said.
       He started crying. I grabbed him up in my arms in a heartbeat, and I held that precious child for all I was worth.
       "Why can't you go to Aaron's house?" I asked.
       "I'm punished. Forever, I think, or until I stop being gay," he said.
       Sweet Mary, mother of Jesus, help this child, I prayed silently.
       "Was that your mom's idea or your dad's?" I asked.
       "Him," he said. "He hates me, Doc. He calls me a faggot all the time, and he's never nice to me. I hate him, too. I wish my mom would get a divorce."
       "Has she talked to you about divorce?" I asked.
       "She's mentioned it, but she said she doesn't know if we can survive without him," he said. "I overheard her talking to my aunt. We don't have very much money, and he won't let my mom work."
       "Would you mind if I talked to your mom?" I asked.
       "No, ma'am. Please don't get mad at me, okay?"
       "Get mad at you? Why would I, sweetie?"
       "Because I've thought about killing myself. I could do it real easy, too. He doesn't lock up his gun at home, and I know how to take the safety off," he said. "I know how I'd do it."
       I called my office manager right then to see how many appointments I had that afternoon. Fortunately, there were only three more, and all of them were for inoculations. My nurse practitioner could handle those easily. I had a significant emergency on my hands with Ronnie, and that was going to take time.
       "Let me go talk to Mom," I said. "I see you have a book. You stay in here and read while we talk, okay, baby?"
       "Yes, ma'am," he said.
       The mother and I talked for over an hour that day. She was as depressed as Ronnie was, and the poor woman saw herself and her three children as basically captives of that man. I told her I wanted both of them to see a psychiatrist, but she said her husband would never allow that. I wasn't totally ignorant about how to treat depression on a short-term basis, so I gave her prescriptions for anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication for both her and Ronnie.
       "I want to see both of you every week, and there won't be any charge for office visits," I told her. "Frankly, I'm very worried about both of you. Do you still have my cell phone number?"
       She didn't, so I gave it to her again, with instructions to get me on the phone anytime she needed to talk.
       "I have a gay son, and he and his partner have given my husband and me a houseful of wonderful gay foster grandsons. You won't find a more sympathetic pediatrician in New Orleans than I am," I said.
       I ordinarily closed the office at noon on Wednesdays, but I decided to schedule the two of them to see me every Wednesday afternoon into the foreseeable future. She kept the appointments, and I saw steady improvement in her, and steady decline in Ronnie, over the next several weeks. I increased his medication, but I was beginning to believe that his depression was the result of his environment and that it wouldn't respond well to drugs. I made sure there was no more suicidal ideation, too.
       As a result of her improvement, she had been able to leave her husband. After several weeks, she and the two younger children were living with her sister, and Ronnie was living with her parents. Her parents were both sick and disabled, and it just wasn't working out. They needed relief, and there was no way the sister and her husband could take Ronnie in.
       "I'm going to Florida tomorrow for a friend's wedding, and I'll be seeing my son and son-in-law," I said. "They're the ones I told you about who take in foster children, gay male foster children. How would you feel if I asked them if they have room for Ronnie for a while?"
       "I can't pay them anything," she said immediately.
       "I know. That won't be an issue, believe me," I said.
       I knew Kevin and Rick probably would accept it only reluctantly, if at all, but I intended to be Ronnie's fairy godmother in Florida. I would never ask my sons to do that kind of favor for me without at least offering to support Ronnie.
       "That might solve some problems, Dr. Foley," she said. "My husband wants nothing to do with Ronnie, that's for sure." Then, after thinking about it for a few minutes, she said, "That might be an answer to my prayer."
       "I think it might be," I said. And I know it'll be an answer to Ronnie's prayer.
       * * *
       Things were a whirl of activity when we got to Emerald Beach Thursday afternoon, and I barely had time to kiss Kevin and Rick hello, much less to talk to them about Ronnie. There was the cocktail party Thursday night, and then dinner. Kevin and Rick went home from the hotel restaurant, and Ed and I went back to Rita and Gene's house in Destin with them. It wasn't until Friday morning that there was any time to talk.
       "Mom, you seem really stressed. What's up with the appointment and everything? What's going on?" Kevin asked as soon as he and Rick and I had settled in.
       I had actually called Kevin's secretary to set up an appointment with him at his office. I knew there would be a houseful of people, including Craig and Cherie, not to mention the boys, and I wanted to make sure I got their undivided attention.
       "I'm sorry if the appointment thing seemed melodramatic, but I need to talk to both of you without fear of interruption. I need your help with a kid," I said.
       I gave them all the facts. It took me almost a half hour to summarize what had happened and what I thought needed to happen to Ronnie. They listened intently.
       "Will you take him?" I finally asked.
       "Mama, how can you ask that? Of course we will," Kevin said. Then, to Rick, "Won't we?"
       "Beth, I'm a little disappointed that you thought we'd ever say no to something like that," Rick said.
       "I know, guys, but Ed and I have been so careful not to interfere with you all and with Craig and Cherie. I wanted to scream, 'Get Kevin to donate sperm' when I first learned of their fertility problem, but I held my tongue. Ed wanted to do the same thing. They eventually came to that decision on their own, and things are working out extremely well. I didn't want to presume with you boys any more than I did with them," I said.
       "When can we get him here," Rick asked.
       "Next weekend is Mardi Gras. All of you are coming for that, aren't you? I'll get Ronnie from his grandparents on Sunday afternoon when we get home, and he can stay with us until you get there next Saturday. That is when you're coming, right?" I said.
       "Yeah. God, there's a lot going on," Kevin said. "He can come home with us on Ash Wednesday."
       "Yes," I said. "I'm going to take him off his medication. It's not what he needs, and it isn't doing him any good. What that boy needs is Foley-Mashburn TLC. Thank you so much, my sons."
       "You must think he'll fit in here," Kevin said.
       "He'll fit in brilliantly, son. He's already met Kyle and Justin when he was in the hospital, and he likes them very much. He asks about them every time I see him," I said.
       "Everybody who's ever met those two likes them," Rick said.
       "I know, Rick. I was on hand for the transformation of Seth last year, remember? I saw what happened. That's why I know you all will save this kid. You've got a therapeutic community at work here, and Ron will respond to it in no time. That's why I'm taking him off the meds. He won't need them once he gets here," I said.
       "The kids are going to go crazy with excitement when they find out they're going to have a new brother," Kevin said. "I take it Ron doesn't have any other problems, like academic ones or problems fitting in."
       "Not that I'm aware of. He seems to me to be very intelligent. He's not effeminate at all, so I doubt that he gets picked on at school. He's really a great kid who happens to be gay and who happens to have an asshole for a father," I said.
       They both laughed. I knew my little Ronnie would grow and prosper as my newest grandson.

Chapter 4

(Sonya's Perspective)
       Every girl dreams of her wedding day, and I was no exception. I would lie awake at night, trying to picture myself in my flowing white wedding gown on the arm of my father, as the love of my life waited for me at the altar, young, handsome, and beaming with pride. The music would begin, and Dad and I would proceed slowly and gracefully down the aisle. The people in the congregation would be transfixed by my radiant smile as the glow of my happiness touched every heart and transformed it.
       I had assumed I would meet the man of my dreams in college. I mean, isn't that what people do? Well, that didn't happen. I was a driven student, and I was determined to earn the grades that would enable me to be admitted to dental school. Not only did that goal consume the hours I might otherwise have frittered away flirting with boys in the student union coffee shop, but it also tended to intimidate quite a few young men. Oh, I had lots of friends, including many male friends, and I dated casually, too, but I never had a boyfriend I would have even considered marrying. Not that any had asked for my hand.
       Surely things would improve in dental school, I thought. There the men would at least be on my intellectual level, and I assumed they would admire and appreciate my determination. Well, dental school was even more frantic than undergraduate school had been because of the volume of work , and I found myself with even less time to devote to my social life. Not only that, a goodly percentage of the men in dental school were already married, and most of the rest had serious girlfriends or were gay.
       After dental school, I received an offer to join a dental practice in the town of Emerald Beach, Florida. I was from the mid-west, and I knew nothing about the South in general or Florida in particular. After a couple of visits, though, I fell in love with the place. Even though my office was in town, I bought a condo on the beach proper, made a circle of friends which included a larger-than-usual number of single women--teachers, lawyers, an optometrist, business women, and another dentist. I joined the Emerald Beach Women's Club, which accounted for most of my friends, and I lent a hand at various fundraisers for worthy causes in the community.
       I had been fascinated with orthodontia since I had braces myself as a child, and I investigated training programs that would enable me to become one. There aren't many of those programs around, and the ones that do exist typically take only two or three candidates a year, usually men. After applying to several for two years in a row, I was finally accepted to the program at the University of Alabama, Birmingham--UAB, as they call it. I did the full program, received a master's degree, did a residency, and passed my national boards on the first try in three years.
       I went back to Emerald Beach. I hadn't sold my condo, although keeping up with the payments hadn't been easy when I couldn't rent it, and I moved back into it. I worked for six months for an ortho in town, and then I opened my own office on the beach proper, west of the bridge, as we say.
       George Murphy and his partner were the only oral surgeons west of the bridge, and many of my patients had to have oral surgery of one kind or another before I could get started on them. It was natural for George and me to meet professionally, and I liked him immediately. Not only was he extremely competent, but he was also incredibly kind and gentle. He was also a man of deep culture and learning in many fields. He was divorced, which was an automatic red flag for me, but when he told me about his former wife's mental illness, that red flag was lowered.
       He invited me to a classical music concert for our first date, and I had a wonderful time. After that, we spent more and more time together. I was falling in love, and I suspected he was, too. Even though I'm Catholic, I would not have let his former marriage stand in my way of marrying him. George wanted an annulment, though, and I respected that. I mean, what alternative did I have? I was completely in love with the man, and there wasn't anybody else around clamoring for my attention.
       I had heard horror stories of annulments taking years and costing thousands, but, once again, the adage about it being who you know and not what you know proved true. George was the good friend of a priest on the beach that he had met through his son, Tim. The priest, Jerry Taylor, took the matter in hand, and George had his annulment in six months.
       Finally, my wedding day was approaching. The ceremony would be a simple thing, befitting a couple our age, but it would be every bit as beautiful, and probably a good bit more meaningful, than the wedding of a twenty-five-year-old ingénue.
       In marrying George, I was also marrying a family. His son, Tim, was sixteen, and Tim was gay. George had been very up-front about that from the beginning, and, of course, I couldn't care less. I didn't know much about homosexuality and had never really been interested in the subject. I suppose I had subconsciously bought into the stereotype of limp-wristed, lisping effeminacy that the media so often portray, so I was a little shocked when I met Tim for the first time. He met none of the aspects of the stereotype. He was extremely good looking, and he was big, muscular, and quite athletic. A few weeks later, I met Tim's boyfriend, Kyle, and Kyle was the same way. Eventually I met Kevin, Rick, Justin, Brian, Jeff, and a number of other gay men, and none of them met the stereotype, either. A couple of the boys I met were rather effeminate and flamboyant, but they were decidedly the exception in that crowd. And, like the boys, I accepted them, too.
       In time I came to love Tim and Kyle as step-sons. They were clearly in love with each other, and they were very open about the fact that they intended a lifetime commitment to each other. When George and I talked about that, he expressed reservations because of their ages. He said that several friends had pointed out that many heterosexual couples who live happily married lives together start out as high school sweethearts, and that made him somewhat more at ease with their situation. He still had reservations, though.
       I didn't think it was my place to take a position on the matter, but it was perfectly obvious to me that those two young men were deeply in love. Why shouldn't they plan on a lifetime together? It wasn't like there was the danger of an unwanted pregnancy, after all. They were a happy, loving, and very well adjusted young couple, and I thought, more power to them.
       George asked Tim and Kyle to be his best men, and I was thrilled. The next logical choice would have been Kyle's father, Gene Goodson, George's closest friend. Gene had agreed to present me at the altar, though, and, as it turned out, Kyle was the official legal witness because Tim, at sixteen-and-a-half, was still too young to do it. Kyle had already turned eighteen, so he signed the form with my sister as one of our two official witnesses.

(Tim's Perspective)
       All my life it had just been my dad and me. He had been father and mother to me, and we were extremely close. He was great when I came out to him, but I think he was a little jealous of Kyle at first. He never said anything directly, but I could tell he was nervous with the idea that Kyle and I were in love. Actually, he only met Kyle one time, and then only for a couple of minutes, before he had to leave for his ship with the Navy, and during the five months he was gone, Kyle and I changed from liking each other to being seriously in love with each other. Kevin and Rick saw that happening on a daily basis because it all took place while they were my guardians, but Dad missed out on that.
       I know he decided to get out of the Navy and to go into private practice because of me. He loved being in the Navy, and I know he was able to get more training, and to work on more interesting cases, in the Navy than in civilian life. If he had stayed in, we would have been transferred again, though, and I would have had to leave Kyle. I guess I didn't realize what that would have meant while it was all going on. The thought of that happening now, though, makes me panic.
       The wedding was very, very nice. Jerry did a great job with the ceremony, and the party afterward was first class.
       "That's the first time I ever went to a wedding," Justin said at the reception.
       "I've been to a couple," Kyle said. "First time I was ever in one, though. I thought it was pretty neat."
       At Kyle's suggestion, they had hired the photographer who had taught Kyle how to do darkroom work, and the two of them were both shooting away at the reception. Kyle had been pissed off that he couldn't take pictures during the ceremony, too, but that was just out of the question. When we compared the pictures that the two guys had taken, Kyle's were far and away the better ones. He and Jeff had a whole section of the family Web site devoted to the wedding up by the afternoon of the next day, and the pictures were terrific.
       The wedding had been at three o'clock in the afternoon. They would have preferred to have an evening wedding, but the church had Mass at six o'clock on Saturday night, and we had to be out of there in plenty of time for Mass. As a result, the reception lasted until around 8:30 or nine Saturday night.
       Kyle and I were spending the night at Kevin and Rick's house, and my cousins were leaving to go home to Boston first thing the next morning. Kevin's relatives were all staying at Kyle's parents' house that night and would leave from there first thing, too. We had had a great time with all of them, and we all sort of cried a little when we said good night and goodbye to them before we left the hotel to go home.
       My cousin Paddy and I had talked some right before they left.
       "Tim, you've got to be the luckiest guy in the world," Paddy said.
       "What do you mean?" I asked.
       "Well, to have somebody like Kyle, for one thing. And all your other friends. Besides you guys, I only know one other boy that I know for sure is gay, and he's only out to a few people," he said.
       "Is he your boyfriend?" I asked.
       "I wish. I'm still a total and complete virgin, Tim, and I'm not out to anybody but my family and you guys," he said.
       He seemed pretty sad about that.
       "You know, we were talking about you guys coming to visit us next summer. I really hope you'll do that. I don't think we could handle everybody for the whole summer, and the rest of them might not want to live full time in a gay household anyway, but we could get you a job at one of the hotels or at a gift shop if you wanted to come for the whole time. You could live with Kevin and Rick, or with me and Kyle in the condo, if you wanted to," I said.
       "That would be wonderful. I'm going to have to work anyway, that's for sure. I'm transferring to U Mass next year, and it's a lot more expensive than the community college I'm going to right now. For one thing, I won't be able to live at home, and the tuition is higher, too," he said.
       "I'll talk to Kevin and Rick about it, but I know what they're going to say. Even if they surprise me and say no, I know Kyle will let you live at the condo. You talk to your parents about it, too. You're eighteen, though, aren't you?"
       "Yeah, but that doesn't mean squat as far as them treating me like a full-fledged grown up," he said. "I could never defy them, if they were against it. But I will talk to them. They really like Kevin and Rick, and the fact that it would be with you, and all. Also, the fact that your dad is right here doesn't hurt my chances any, that's for sure," he said.
       It looked like he was really warming up to the idea, and I hoped he didn't get shot down.
       "It looks like they want me to go," he said. "Goodbye, Tim. I love you, man."
       "I love you, too, Bubba," I said.
       We started out shaking hands, but in a second we were hugging.
       * * *
       We all went to North Lagoon Drive. We changed out of our tuxes and gathered up all the stuff we had to return to the store on Monday. I had my dad's tux also. Each one had fourteen individual pieces that had to be accounted for, and we had five of those suits to handle. Kevin himself supervised us getting that stuff organized to take back.
       When we were all comfortable in the den, Kyle let loose a rip-roaring fart. It was so loud that Trixie barked.
       "Jesus, Kyle," Rick said.
       "I'm sorry. I didn't do that on purpose," he said.
       "You had that much gas, and it just slipped out by accident?" Rick asked.
       "I thought it was going to be a silent one," Kyle said.
       Everybody in the room thought the whole thing was funny as hell, but we were having fun giving Kyle a hard time.
       "You better go wipe your ass after that one," Justin said. "Pew, that thing was ripe, too." He fanned the air in front of his nose.
       "Justin, he does that in bed and pulls the cover up over my head," I said. He had actually done that a couple of times playing with me.
       "God, how gross, Kyle," Jus said. "I'm glad I've got me some refinement."
       "Yeah? Refine this," Kyle said, grabbing his crotch.
       "Did you say 'find this?'"
       That made us scream with laughter.
       "Okay, you got me last, asshole," Kyle said, then he laughed along with us.
       "I was talking to my cousin Paddy about him maybe spending the summer here with us. What do you guys say about that?" I asked.
       "He's the gay one, right?" Justin said.
       "Yeah. He said he only knows one other boy, besides us, that he knows is gay. He's not out at all, except to his family and us, and I think he's pretty sad about that," I said.
       "Well, we've got the room," Kevin said, "for now, at least. I wouldn't mind having Paddy around."
       "Does he fart?" Rick asked.
       "Yeah, like you don't," Kyle said.
       Rick ruffled Kyle's hair to show him he was just teasing, like Kyle didn't already know that.
       "So, can I tell him it's on from this end?" I asked.
       "Yeah. I don't see why not," Rick said. "But we've got to talk to y'all about something."
       "Yes, we do," Kevin said.
       I could tell from the way he said it that this was going to be something serious.
       "My mom talked to Rick and me yesterday about taking in a boy from New Orleans. She said Kyle and Justin met him when he was in the hospital after his dad hit him with a bottle," Kevin said. "We said we would, and he'll come back with us after Mardi Gras."
       "He's a real nice kid," Kyle said. "His name is Rob, or something like that."
       "His name is Ron. Ron Grisham. He's fifteen, and he's gay. He's been very depressed, and Grandma hasn't been able to do anything for that with her medicines," Kevin said. "She thinks he needs out of where he's staying now."
       "Where will I go when he gets here?" Denny asked, all worried sounding.
       "You're not going anywhere, son," Rick said. "Did you think you'd have to leave?"
       "I didn't know," Denny said.
       "Denny, this is your home until you're grown, baby," Kevin said. "We're not ever putting you out, and Tyrone Williams isn't going to pull you out of here."
       Denny got this real relieved look on his face, and he was grinning. He was a cute kid.
       "Unless he starts farting, right?" Justin said.
       "Shit," Kyle said, pretending to be disgusted with the conversation. The fact is, Kyle loved getting that attention, and everybody knew it.
       "Kyle's right about Ron being a nice kid," Justin said. "He's your age, Denny. Maybe you're going to get you a boyfriend, stud."
       Denny blushed hard, and that was cute.
       "Ron's got a boyfriend. Don't you remember that other kid that was in his room in the hospital?" Kyle asked Justin.
       "Oh, yeah. Everybody doesn't need a boyfriend," Justin said.
       "Brian was saying that just the other day," Kyle said.
       Justin sat there silently.
       "Did you hear what I just said?" Kyle asked him.
       "Yes, I did," Jus said.
       "Well, aren't you going to say something?"
       "I thought you wanted us just to ignore it when you fart," he said.
       "Oh, my God! Did he get you last or what, Bubba?" Rick said, pounding on Kyle's shoulder.
       Kyle was on the floor right in front of Rick. He moved away from him when he did that.
       "Kyle, you're not mad, are you, Bubba?" Justin said.
       "No, but I'm getting fitted with a cork first thing in the morning," Kyle said.
       That made us all laugh, and that felt good.
       "I'm pretty excited about getting a new brother," Brian said.
       "Me, too," we all said, more or less in the same words at the same time.
       "And I'm pretty excited about maybe having Paddy here next summer," I said.
       They all said they were, too.
       That evening of family time slowly came to an end. Kevin and Rick were sprawled against one another on one of the sofas, Kyle, Justin, Brian, and I were lying on the floor, and Denny was stretched out on the other sofa. It hardly ever took Kyle more than a few seconds to go to sleep, especially after all the activity of the last three days, and he was out like a light before anybody knew it. One by one, we all went to sleep right where we were.
       Around one o'clock in the morning, I woke up. I was cold. Kyle and I were the last two in the room, so I woke him up and we went up to bed. I didn't say my full prayers that night because I was so sleepy, but I did ask God to bless my dad and my new mom.

(Brian's Perspective)
       It sure was nice having my own car. Denny had started riding with me to school, and he and I stopped every day to pick up Chip. I hadn't seen Chip in a few days, and when he came out of the front door of his house when I blew the horn, I could have sworn that boy had grown over the weekend.
       I had grown a good bit, too, and I was now as tall as Justin. He never said anything about it, but I think he wished I would always be smaller than him. I had grown down below some, too, and I thought I was now bigger than he was. It was possible Justin would grow some more, too, but it didn't matter one bit to either of us.
       That afternoon after school I went home to get Trixie, as usual, and we went to Mr. Mack's house to work. I had mentioned to him that we wanted to get a black Lab puppy, and he had one there that day. It was a little female, and she was magnificent.
       "That pup's about ten weeks old, Brian. She's a cutie, too, ain't she?"
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       The puppy was making friends with Trixie, and it was so cute watching the two of them. I picked the puppy up while I was squatting down, and Trixie got a little jealous. She started nosing me, wanting some attention.
       "I think Trixie fears a rival," Mr. Mack said. That man was more country than Justin, but he was as nice as he could be and knew everything there was to know about dogs, I think.
       Trixie started whining.
       "Yes, sir, I think you're right," I said.
       I put the puppy down, and she started jumping up on me when I started scratching Trixie behind her ears.
       "You're always going to be my dog, Trixie. I'm not going to love this one as much as I do you, if we get her," I said.
       The puppy got up under Trixie and started going for her teats.
       "That puppy misses her mama," Mr. Mack said.
       "Is she not weaned yet?" I asked.
       "Oh, no, she's weaned, but Trixie looks just exactly like the mama dog. The pup might be a little confused, and instinct's taking over," he said.
       Trixie did something incredibly cute. She started licking the puppy like she understood what it needed.
       "Now that right there is instinct, son," Mr. Mack said. "I know Trixie's been spayed, but she's still got mothering in her. Look at that."
       We watched the two dogs play for a little while.
       "How much does the man want for this dog?" I asked.
       "He's asking a hundred and fifty for her. At first he said two hundred, but I told him you was just a kid and one of the most natural dog men I had ever seen. That's when he come down," he said.
       I felt real pride when he said that about me. I knew he liked me and respected me, but he had never said that before. I grinned at him, and he knew he had made my day.
       "You want this dog, don't you?"
       "Yes, sir, I do. We're going out of town Saturday, though, and we won't be home until Wednesday afternoon. We're getting a new boy then, too," I said.
       "Well, break in the dog and the boy at the same time, Brian. You can do it, son," Mr. Mack said.
       At that moment the puppy was licking my face, and I knew there was no way I could leave there that day without her.
       "Can I take her home with me today?" I asked.
       "Yes, sir," Mr. Mack said. "Bring me some money tomorrow, though, okay?"
       "Oh, yes, sir, I will," I said.
       I was so happy. That puppy was pure joy, and I knew the rest of them were going to love her as much as I already did. Mr. Mack and I spent the rest of our time that afternoon playing with the puppy and trying to teach her simple commands. We also talked about housebreaking her.
       "Trixie's probably going to help you out with that, Brian," he said. "When a puppy does something wrong, do you know what the mama dog does to it?"
       "No, sir. What?"
       "The mama dog grabs it in her mouth by the scruff of the neck and shakes it a little. Not enough to hurt the puppy but enough to make it know it's done wrong. I'm betting Trixie will do that if she sees the pup mess in the house. And you do it to. And say 'No' loud enough for it to get the message. Do y'all have a crate?"
       "We've got one for Trixie, but she doesn't sleep in it," I said.
       "A dog is naturally a pack animal, and packs have dens. Get you a crate that's big enough for the pup to lie down in but that's all. Put a couple of toys in there for her to play with, and keep her in the crate most of the time. It'll become her den. Every time you let her out, first thing you do is take her outside. She won't shit or piss in her den. They keep 'em clean. You've got to get it fixed in the dog's head that she'll get to go when you let her out, and always take her outside.
       "Another thing, feed and water her on a regular schedule. Then, as soon as that last mouthful is down, take her ass outside. No long walks or playing around outside right then. That's crapping time, and it don't last long. Always take her to the same place, too, so she makes the link in her head for why she's there."
       "How long will it take?" I asked.
       I was thinking of us leaving for New Orleans in just a few days. Of course, I didn't really have to go to New Orleans. I could stay home and train the puppy.
       "I've housebroke a dog in as little as three days. With a smart one like this, and Trixie around to help out, I don't think it'll take much more than that," he said.
       "Mr. Mack, thank you so much," I said. "I know it's early, but I want to go buy her a crate before the pet store closes. I think I need to go."
       "Wait a minute. I'm sure I have a crate for her around here. Let's go look."
       We went into his--what? workshop?--and he had a ton of stuff to use with dogs. We found a crate that was just the right size for her.
       "Let's put her in it now," he said. "But first, let's spray some of this stuff to get rid of any piss or shit odors that might still be in there from other dogs. You need to get you a can of this, Brian. Don't use regular household cleaners or sprays if she happens to mess up and shit or piss in the house. Those have ammonia in them, and that's the odor that draws them to that spot. If they find a place where they, or another dog, has already shit or pissed, they'll want to do it there, too. This stuff neutralizes odors you and I can't smell, but the puppy can."
       He showed me how to make her get into the crate using a couple of pellets of food. Then he found a collar and leash for her in all his stuff, and he gave me those, too.
       "Use that leash when you take her out so she don't run. And take Trixie out with her so she can help you with the pup," he said.
       "Mr. Mack, thank you so much for all your help," I said.
       "My pleasure, son," he said.
       "Have you trained other boys like me?" I asked.
       "Nope. You're the first. You're like I would have wanted my son to be, Brian," he said.
       "Do you have a son?" I asked.
       "No. Just you. Now you best get home and get started on that pup. What are you going to call her? Do you know?"
       "No, sir, not yet. That'll be a family decision," I said.
       "Well, I'll see you tomorrow then, okay?"
       "Should I bring the puppy?" I asked.
       "No, not until she's housebroke. We want her to think outside is only to shit and piss right now. We'll start working with her next week," he said.
       * * *
       The first thing I did when I got the puppy home was feed and water her. It was about four o'clock, and she ate good but she didn't finish it. I dumped that food in the garbage. I picked her up right away, snapped that leash on her, put her down, and out we went. And she did it! I praised her big time, and Trixie licked her, which the puppy seemed to like better than the praise.
       I took her back inside and put her away in her crate. I put it in the laundry room right off the kitchen because that's where Trixie's bed was. Trixie lay down in front of that crate on the floor instead of in her bed, and she didn't move a muscle. It was like she was guarding the puppy.
       When everybody got home and had gotten their evening snacks, I brought the puppy into the den. They all went wild over her, and it was so much fun watching them. Every last one of them was on the floor playing with her.
       "Yuck! That dog licked me on the face," Kyle said. "Brian, you need to do something about that."
       Justin got furious at him. For real, not for play.
       "Jesus Christ, Kyle! We've had the fucking puppy four hours. Don't you be getting in Brian's face because that puppy licked you, like it's his fault, cause it ain't. That's what puppies do, asshole."
       That wasn't teasing or joking around, and everybody knew it.
       "Back off, Bubba. You're right, and I'm wrong," Kyle said, holding up his hands open to Jus. "Brian, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I didn't mean anything by that. Really. You've done a great job with Trixie, and I know you'll do a great job with this one. Please don't be mad at me."
       "You didn't offend me, Kyle. But thanks. He was the one who was yelling at you, though, not me," I said.
       "I'm sorry, Justin," Kyle said.
       "I know. Me, too," Justin said.
       Everybody was quiet for a few minutes after that outburst. Those didn't happen all that often in our house, but when they did, they sort of put a damper on things. But that can't last long with a puppy in the house. She was all over the place, licking and nosing and jumping up on people.
       I was watching Trixie, and she was watching that puppy with full concentration. Trixie knew everything about what a dog could and could not do in that house, and she demonstrated that for us.
       The puppy needed to shit or piss or something, and Trixie grabbed it up by the back of its neck, shook it a time or two, and carried it to the back door. She dropped the puppy and barked. I was Johnny on the spot and took the puppy outside, with Trixie right behind me. Trix watched that puppy shit, and then she was all over her with her tongue. I praised the puppy, too, but, once again, her mama had praised her more than I ever could.
       When we went back inside, I took the puppy back into the den and put her down. Trixie picked her up and carried her into the laundry room. I was right behind them, and Trixie put that puppy to bed in her crate. I was just standing there in awe of my dog, but she barked. I squatted down to pet Trixie, but she barked again. Then it dawned on me. She wanted me to close the crate. When I did it, she wiggled and wagged and nosed me to reward me for my intelligence.
       "I love you," I said to Trixie.
       I kissed her on her head, and she looked so happy and proud of herself. Happy tears started coming down my face, and she licked them away. I let her do it, too. I wasn't like Kyle. I didn't care where that tongue had been.
       * * *
       When I went back into the den, they all wanted to know what had just happened. So I told them.
       "Is Trixie training that puppy?" Jus asked.
       "I think so, Buddy," I said. "Mr. Mack thought she might, and I guess she is. He said it might not take more than three or four days to do it, as smart as the puppy is and because we have Trixie."
       "Are we going to be able to leave her with Mary Ann when we go to Mardi Gras, Bri?" Kevin asked.
       "Kevin, if she's not trained by Saturday, I want to stay here. Is that okay?"
       I hadn't had time to even bring that up with Justin, and I knew he really wanted to go to Mardi Gras. But I also knew he wasn't going to leave me here by myself, no matter what I said.
       "I think you'll get it trained, Little Buddy," Justin said.
       "I think I will, too, Buddy. I'm staying home from school tomorrow to work on it," I announced. I had absolutely never been that defiant before in my life, but I felt that strongly about it.
       "I think that's a good idea, and I think you'll need some help, too," Kyle said.
       "I don't think I need any help," I said. Kyle looked for every excuse to miss school.
       "I don't think you realize the magnitude of the problem," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, you're not missing school tomorrow," Rick said. "Brian makes straight A's in the hardest courses the school offers. What do you make?"
       "I see that my generosity isn't appreciated by the very people I consider my own flesh and blood. Very well, then. I shall go to school tomorrow. But Brian, you call me on the cell the second you need some help, you hear?"
       "Kyle, I will, but just know the puppy's going to lick you on the face. Maybe the lips, too," I said.
       "Forget it. Call Tim," he said.
       Everybody howled with laughter when he said that. Trixie barked from the laundry room to tell us she was with us in spirit, but she was right there with the puppy, and she wouldn't leave.
       "Let's talk about a name for her," I said. "She's going to be AKC registered, so her official name is going to be some long thing. But what are we going to call her?"
       "I'm empty," Justin said. "You got any ideas?"
       "Well, it's Mardi Gras time, and they have Krewes. We also have the Crew of The Clay. Why don't we call her Krewe, with a K?"
       "That's a nice name, but it's not very feminine, Brian," Kevin said. "How about Krewella? Also with a K."
       "That's too long. I like Krewe," Justin said.
       I knew he was always going to side with me.
       "I like Krewe, too," Kyle said. "I think a dog needs a short name like that. I mean, most of the time we call Trixie Trix because it's short and easy for us and for her."
       "Well, Krewe is meaningful, too," Kevin said. "I was actually just teasing about Krewella."
       "I think the puppy's name is now Krewe," Rick said.
       "We need to use that a lot around her so she gets to know it as her name," I said.
       "You all don't go anywhere. I need to get something," Tim said. He pounded up the stairs to his room. He was back in just a minute.
       "This is some email I got from my cousin Anne Ryan today. Let me read it.

   "Dear Tim,
           "Going to your dad's wedding was probably the most fun thing I have ever done. That was only the second time I had ever left Massachusetts, and it was the first time I had ever flown on a plane. Florida is wonderful at this time of year, and I wish I lived there.
           "Your friend Brian is the hottest boy I have ever known in my life. I'm a virgin and hope to be so until I marry, but boys like Brian make me want to rethink the whole concept. I'm just kidding, but not really. If my mother sees this email, I will have hell to pay, so I better cut it off. Please tell Brian that I love him.
                                               "Your cousin,
                                               "Anne."

       That was embarrassing as hell, but it also made me feel so good. I knew there would never be any payoff to that, but it was nice to know that a girl as beautiful as Anne liked me.
       "We need ice cream after that," Kyle said.
       That night, I got the banana sticking straight up with the two scoops side by side covered with coconut. I honestly never thought that would happen to me.


(Justin's Perspective)
       I felt really bad about getting so mad at Kyle. I knew he wasn't really criticizing Brian, after I thought about it, at least, but when he said that about Brian needing to do something about the puppy licking, it just got all over me. I love Kyle, but I also love Brian. I knew everything was all right between us after we both apologized, so I didn't say anything else about it. Kyle needs to learn to think a little more before he opens that mouth sometimes.
       Speaking of the puppy, I knew Brian was in hog heaven with that thing. She was really cute, and I knew she was going to be a beautiful dog. Brian said something about her being a pedigree, which I guess was a good thing, but she looked just exactly like Trixie to me, only smaller.
       And that Trixie was something else. She was damn sure going to help Brian train that puppy, and that was the cutest thing I had ever seen. I never dreamed when I was a kid that I'd ever love somebody the way I do Brian, and then him turn out to be a dog man on top of it. I really didn't know what being a dog man was all about, exactly, but I was as proud as I could be of my Little Buddy for being one.
       Brian and I had gone upstairs to our room after he took care of the puppy for the last time that night, and he had walked down to Tim's room to ask him something about homework. Denny knocked on our door, and I said come in. I was lying on the bed reading something for my English class, and I was in just my briefs.
       "Hi, Justin," Denny said.
       "Hey, Bubba. What's up?"
       "Can you talk to me for a minute?"
       "Sure. What do you want to talk about?" I asked. If it's homework, I thought, you'd best wait till Brian comes back.
       "The new boy and what Kevin and Rick said tonight," he said.
       "What about 'em?" I asked.
       "Were they really serious when they said I could stay here until I grow up?" he asked.
       "Yeah, they were serious. What do you think? They're going to put your ass out?"
       "I was worried about that," he said.
       "Well, that's your last worry, little brother. They ain't ever going to kick you out of here. They didn't Jeff, and they didn't me. They didn't Alex, either. They love us, Denny," I said.
       "They sure are nice," he said.
       "They ain't just nice. They're the best, dude," I said.
       "Thank you, Justin. I love you," he said.
       God Almighty! I thought. This kid needs us bad.
       "Come here. Give me a hug," I said.
       He came toward me, and I sat up on the edge of the bed. I grabbed him and hugged him hard. Then I gave him a sweet little kiss on his cheek.
       "Thanks, Bubba," he said softly.
       "I love you, too, Denny."

Chapter 5

(Kevin's Perspective)
       February began with a bang with the arrival of the new puppy. I realize there are some people who maintain that dogs don't really have intelligence, in the conventional sense, and that the ones that appear to be smart are really only more alert and more attuned to their own instincts than others. I don't happen to subscribe to that theory, though. Not when it came to our dogs, at least. Or maybe it was our dog boy who made the difference.
       Brian worked all week at housebreaking Krewe, and by the time he and I took Krewe and Trixie to Mary Ann Pennington's house on the Friday afternoon before we left for Mardi Gras, she was fully housebroken. Trixie was incredibly protective of her at first, making sure she never messed in the house or did other things that were unacceptable, such as chew on furniture or try to go upstairs. As the first week wore on, though, and Krewe became more used to her new environment, Trixie slacked off. It was almost as though Trix knew the puppy was learning and didn't need her constant supervision as much as she had at first.
       Krewe loved her den, just like Brian said she would. I watched one time as Krewe got in the den and Trixie helped out by knocking down the gate with her paw. That seemed pretty incredible to me.
       Krewe was growing fast, too, and by the end of the week Trixie no longer tried to pick her up. It had been a struggle from the first, but Trixie had managed a few times. By Friday morning, though, Krewe was more than Trixie could handle, and she seemed to know it. Krewe never went outside to do her business without Trixie, and one time I saw Krewe wake Trixie up to go out with her. We still used the leash on Krewe to take her outside, but occasionally Brian would drop it on purpose to let her have a little freedom. He was gradually teaching her to come on command, and I knew the days of the leash were numbered.
       "Is there anything special I need to do," Mary Ann asked Brian when we took the dogs over there.
       "No, ma'am, not really. I think she's housebroken, but I still have her on a very rigid schedule for eating, drinking, and going outside," he said.
       "The weekend won't be a problem, but what about next week, when I have to work?" she asked.
       "If you would, feed and water her first thing in the morning, and let her out. I usually come home at lunch to do it again. Then again after school, and then again before I go upstairs to do my homework. That's usually around seven," he said.
       "Oh, I can do that easily," Mary Ann said. "I don't usually come home for lunch, but I can. No problem."
       "Mary Ann, come home on my time, not yours, okay?" I said.
       "Okay, but it won't be a problem for me, Kevin. I really shouldn't eat out as much as I do," she said.
       "Well, you're doing us a huge favor, and I don't want it to be burdensome for you," I said.
       "It won't be. Brian, how much time should Krewe spend out of her cage?" she asked.
       "I don't usually let her out more than about three hours a day," he said. "Sometimes she goes back to it on her own, if she gets tired of being out and wants to sleep. She and Trixie play quite a bit, but I really haven't started exercising her much yet."
       We were in Mary Ann's kitchen, and Krewe was out of her crate and on the floor. One of Mary Ann's dogs came in, and Krewe went over to greet it. The older dog wasn't interested in getting to know Krewe, and it sort of growled at her when she went up to it. Trixie was on that other dog in an instant. She growled and showed teeth.
       "Trix," Brian said in a normal tone of voice.
       Trixie backed off and she and the other dog sniffed at each other and became friends.
       "Oh, my," Mary Ann said. "Trixie is going to protect her little friend, isn't she?"
       "Yes, ma'am," Brian said. "Mr. Mack, the dog man I've been working with, said he thinks Trixie thinks Krewe is her puppy."
       "Kevin, we're going to have a very good time with these dogs. Thank you," Mary Ann said.
       "Thank me? It's you who gets the thanks, Mary Ann," I said.
       "Well, let's just thank each other, then," she said.
       In the car on the way home, Brian said,
       "Miss Mary Ann is a dog lady, just like I'm a dog boy and Mr. Mack is a dog man."
       "Are you saying my secretary looks like a dog?" I said.
       "Shut up. You know what I'm talking about. Do I look like a dog?"
       We were in his car, and he was driving. I stared at him hard.
       "Shut up. Don't even say it," he said.
       We both laughed.
       * * *
       We left really early Saturday morning so we could catch the afternoon parades. We got to my parents' house around eleven, and that's when Rick and I met our new son.
       "Ron," my mom said, "these are my sons, Kevin Foley and Rick Mashburn."
       He didn't seem too lively.
       "Hey, buddy. What's up, man?" Rick said. God, he's such a jock, I thought. I half expected Rick to swat Ron's butt. But he didn't.
       "Hi," Ron said. "Not much, I guess."
       Ron was an attractive kid. He was smaller than ours, including Denny, but it was pretty obvious he was well along into puberty.
       "And these guys are our sons, Ron. They're going to be your brothers," I said.
       One by one, Kyle and Tim and Justin and Brian and Denny shook hands with him.
       "I remember you guys from when I was in the hospital," he said to Kyle and Justin. "And you're in the picture Doc has in her office," he said to Tim.
       "That's right. Very good, Ron," my mom said.
       Jeff and Tyler drove up about then, as did Rita and Gene. There were more introductions, and I think Ron might have been a bit overwhelmed. Then Craig and Cherie got there, and there was much hugging and kissing and handshaking and such. It had only been a week since we had all seen one another, but we did the whole long-lost-cousin routine. Poor little Ron was just standing there not knowing what to do.
       "Let's get our stuff in our house," Kyle said. "Let's go, Ron."
       "Do you mean the apartment?" Ron asked.
       "Yeah. The boys stay in there," Kyle said. "That's our house in New Orleans."
       "I put my stuff up there earlier," Ron said.
       "Cool. You can help us, then. Help Justin with his bag. He's weak as a damn kitten," Kyle said.
       Ron looked at the faces of the adults when Kyle said "damn," but he didn't see a reaction. Oh, little guy, I thought. You're going to be in for such a ride, son.
       They took off amid much laughter.
       "Therapeutic community," my mother whispered to me. She and I grinned at each other.
       "Has anybody heard from George and Sonya," Dad asked.
       "We talked to them once," Gene said. "They had just played the links at St. Andrew, and they were having a fabulous time."
       "They called Tim once, too, only from Amsterdam that time. And the overall message was the same. They were having a fabulous time," I said.
       "Who wants a Maria Sanguinaria?" Craig asked.
       "I beg your pardon," Rita said, in her best Charleston plantation accent.
       "That's his fractured Italian for a Bloody Mary, Rita," Cherie said.
       She giggled.
       "Yes, please. That sounds lovely," Rita said.
       My mother really liked Rita, and she was getting a kick out of her Southern Belle act. Rita was playing her audience, too.
       We all said a Bloody Mary sounded good, only Rick and Cherie wanted Virgin Marys.
       "Darling, I'm willing to believe that in Rick's case but never in yours," Craig said.
       "You! Foley! Outside! Right now!" Rick said.
       Craig and Rick both laughed hard, and then Rick went off to the kitchen to help his friend with the drinks.
       "I think those two are more bonded than you and Craig are, Kevin," Cherie said.
       "No, Cherie. I know that Craig loves Rick very much, as Beth and I do, but Rick won't ever replace Kevin in Craig's heart," Dad said.
       "I know. I was just teasing Kevin, Dad," she said. "But I know my husband, and it's a pretty close match."
       "Aren't you glad of that, son?" my mom asked.
       "I wouldn't want it any other way. I think Rick talks to Craig on the phone more than I do," I said.
       "And I know you and I talk on the phone more than you and Craig do," Cherie said.
       Just then the boys came back into the house. They took seats on the floor. Craig and Rick fixed them up with tomato juice drinks, too, of one kind or another.
       "Tyler, we're so glad you were able to come for Mardi Gras this year," my mother said, to start it off with them.
       "Yes, ma'am. Me, too. Thank you for having me," he said.
       "Jeff and Ty have some news, Mom," I said.
       "Oh? Do tell," she said.
       They looked at each other and grinned. They were really cute.
       "Well, Jeff and I went to visit my parents in Minnesota a couple of weeks ago, and the visit was a total success," Ty said.
       "And you boys came out to them?" she asked.
       "Yes, ma'am," Ty said. "And everything is fine."
       "That's wonderful, Ty. I'm proud of you. You might not know this, but Jeff has a very special place in my heart," she said.
       "Yes, ma'am, I do know that," he said, smiling. "And you know what else? You've got a very special place in his heart."
       We were having lunch there before the parade, and my mother had gotten Odille to make some hors d'ouerves. Among several other dishes, there were six huge stuffed artichokes, and I could tell Kyle wanted to put his face down into the platter. He had made those for us several times since he had had them at my parents' house, but Odille's were, simply, definitive. He scooted his way closer and closer to the coffee table that held the food, all the while looking around, hoping nobody was noticing. He knew his parents expected him to behave politely, so doing what he really wanted to do, which was to take a whole one into his lap, was out of the question.
       "This crab dip is marvelous, Beth," Rita said.
       "Thanks. The crab came from Emerald Beach. Some boys I know there caught them and picked them out for us," Mom said.
       "I wonder who those boys could be? Some boys there gave me five or six pounds of it, Beth," Rita said.
       People chuckled politely.
       "The artichokes are good, too, Grandma. Very good, in fact," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, take a whole one and put it on one of those plates," Cherie said. "That's what they're there for."
       Kyle looked at Rita, and then he looked at Beth. And then he took a whole stuffed artichoke and put it on a plate. He ate the whole thing, but that wasn't all he ate, either.
       After lunch we boarded up our various vehicles and headed downtown for the parades. Ron, our newest son, rode with us in Rick's Suburban. He was quiet, as I expected he would be, but the stress that had been on his face earlier was gone. He was sitting on Justin's right in the middle seat, and Jus kept pointing to things out of the side window and purposely knocking the bill of Ron's baseball cap. Justin would say, "Oh, excuse me," each time. Every time Justin did that, Ron laughed a little. By the time we got to the parade route, Ron was giggling over that horseplay. The magic had begun.
       * * *
       We congregated in front of Cherie's office building on St. Charles Avenue. It was a homecoming of sorts. Seth and his parents and sister were there. Seth's boyfriend Curt was there, as were his two best friends from school, Jason Cook and Shane Gautier. We had met Curt in October when we were there, but Jason and Shane were new.
       Our boys, except Denny and Ron, hugged Seth, and they shook hands with the other ones. Jeff and Seth hugged harder than I expected they would, so I assumed they were closer than I thought. You never really knew about Jeff.
       Typically, people found a comfortable place for Mardi Gras and tended to go back there year after year. In our case, we had the benefit of Cherie's building. Of course, by then we were very good friends of Matt and Cathy Adams, Seth's parents, so we would have been welcome there if Cherie left the firm the next day. Cathy Adams pulled me aside to talk.
       "They don't usually begin the canonization process until somebody has been dead for fifty years, but I've got an appointment with the Archbishop next week to talk about yours," she said.
       I laughed.
       "What are you talking about?" I asked.
       "I'm talking about you and Rick and those boys saving my son. That's what I'm talking about," she said.
       I laughed some more.
       "Yeah, that's it. Laugh," she said.
       "Well, what do you want me to do? Cry?"
       She was laughing, too.
       "Kevin, to say that he is a different child is a gross understatement," she said. "He's so happy now. He has friends. He's active in the newspaper at school. He's working out every day. He has a boyfriend. He loves you and Rick and the other kids. He and his sister are even friends now. I can't begin to express my gratitude to you and Rick."
       "Well, you know what, Cathy? You don't have to. He's a damn fine kid, and he's our son and our brother. We're just as proud of him as you are," I said.
       "I know. And that's part of the miracle, Kevin. It was just a year ago, almost to the day, that my son finally got a life, and it was because of you and those boys. That Kyle kid must be extraordinary. I plan to talk his mother's ear off. Seth worships him, Kevin. Absolutely worships him. He talks about him and the others constantly. For example, I even know that Kyle is circumcised and how large his penis is. Both ways."
       I cracked up when she said that, and she laughed hard, too.
       "You've got a great sense of humor," I said. "You'd fit right in with us."
       "I know. I'm sort of jealous," she said.
       "Come on and spend the summer with us," I said.
       We both laughed at the absurdity of that idea.
       "I don't know if Seth is going to want to leave Curt for a whole summer, but I hope you'll have him back, if he is," she said.
       "Curt can come, too. We're filling up fast, though," I said.
       "Oh? Who's going to be there?" she asked.
       "Well, I don't really know for sure. The Big Four, of course. That's Kyle, Tim, Justin, and Brian. Denny, whom you just met, and Ron, a kid from here we're taking back with us. That's six. Then, there are Chris and David from Montana. Tim's cousin Paddy from Boston, and Seth and Curt from here. And it wouldn't surprise me if Alex and Cody came down for the summer from New York. That would be thirteen boys," I said.
       "Oh, my God! It's summer camp. Maybe you could have sessions, like other camps do," she said.
       I screamed with laughter.
       "What's so damn funny?" Rick asked, when he walked up to us.
       "We're organizing summer camp at your house," Cathy said. "I want to be a counselor."
       "What are you talking about?" Rick asked.
       "We're talking about all the kids who could potentially end up with us in Emerald Beach next summer, Babe. I just counted up thirteen," I said.
       "Jesus Christ! The twelve apostles plus a replacement for Judas," he said.
       Cathy and I laughed.
       "We can potentially put up fourteen, if we use the study for Chris and David," I said. "Chris has cerebral palsy, Cathy."
       "Oh, I know who Chris is. I've seen the Web site. Repeatedly."
       I loved her deadpan. I figured we could team her up with Justin and put the two of them on the road as a comedy show.
       "The fact of the matter is, I know everyone, except Denny and Ron," she said.
       "They're the two newest. We really don't know Ron yet," Rick said.
       "Oh, and where is Super Dog?" she asked.
       We laughed.
       "She's at my secretary's house, along with our new puppy, Krewe," I said.
       "Do you get a dog for every x-number of boys?" she asked.
       "Not officially, but that seems to be the way it's working out," Rick said.
       "Well, boys have to have dogs. That's a law of nature," she said.
       "Brian is our dog boy," I said. "He seems to be a natural with them. He housebroke the puppy in less than a week."
       "Oh, my. I need him to come to my house and work with our Cocker. She's a year old, and I'm still mopping up after her," she said.
       "Talk to him about it, Cathy. Seriously," Rick said. "He knows how to do it, that's for sure."
       "I will," she said.
       Matt Adams joined us just then. He had beers for everybody. Rick took one, but I noticed he just held it.
       "What's going on," Matt asked.
       "We're just talking about summer camp in Emerald Beach," Cathy said.
       Matt laughed.
       "I want to go," he said.
       "Me, too. I want to be a counselor," Cathy said.
       "I don't think you have what it takes, Pet," Matt said.
       "I know," she said. "But I still want to."

(Seth's Perspective)
       Seeing everybody on the street in front of my dad's building, waiting for the parade to come, brought back all the happy memories I had of last year. So much had happened. So much good stuff had happened that I had a hard time believing it.
       "You're going to love it there," I said to Ron.
       He didn't reply, but he sort of shrugged.
       "They're going to take care of you. You're going to have so much fun and feel so good," I said.
       "I hope so," he said, barely above a whisper.
       "Oh, you will. I know you will. What grade are you in?"
       "Ninth," he said.
       "Cool. You'll be able to go to their high school. Kyle's the president of student government there," I said. "He's a senior."
       "Are all of them gay?"
       "Yep, every last one of them. Are you?"
       He looked down instead of at me, and I knew he was.
       "I am, too," I said. "Curt is my boyfriend."
       "Do your parents know?"
       "Sure," I said.
       "Well, don't think everybody's got it that good," he said.
       "Yours know?"
       He nodded.
       "And they have a problem with it?"
       "My mom's okay about it, but my dad isn't. That's why I have to go to Florida," he said.
       "Well, at least you've got a great place to go. A lot of boys get kicked out and don't have any place to go but the street," I said.
       I had started doing Web searches for gay stuff, and that theme came up pretty often in the information I found. That, and a very high suicide rate among gay boys.
       "I'll bet we can find guys your age on this very street right now who don't have a place to go and who are hustling blowjobs to get something to eat tonight. I'm serious, Ron," I said.
       "I miss my mom and my little brothers," he said.
       "I know. Do you think your mom could go see you in Florida?" I asked.
       "I doubt it. We're pretty poor," he said.
       Shit, I didn't know what to say to him. I wanted him to feel good, to feel the magic of the Florida boys, but I didn't know how to make that happen. Fortunately, Kyle came over to us just then.
       "What are y'all talking about?" he asked.
       "This and that," I said. "What are you doing?"
       "I'm trying to organize a hike down to where the parade starts. Do you know how far it is?" Kyle asked.
       "No, but I don't think it's real far. I'll go. Maybe we can meet it," I said.
       "Well, let's go. This standing around here is boring the piss out of me," Kyle said. "Come on. We're hiking," Kyle shouted.
       We started up the parade route, looking for the parade. It was Kyle, Tim, Justin, Brian, Denny, Ron, Jeff, Tyler, Kevin, Rick, Craig, Cherie, Curt, and me. We held hands in the thickest crowds so we wouldn't be separated, and we weren't.
       We met up with the parade, eventually, and we walked down the street with them. Sometimes we had to run a little, behind the crowd on the street, but we stayed with the second float all the way down to where our people were. And we got a ton of beads, too. When we finally stopped, we told the people on the float we had been dogging that we were where we wanted to be. They dumped out whole bags full of beads and trinkets and stuff. I had a sleeve of plastic cups large enough to water a stadium full of people, and I had so many beads around my neck that it was beginning to hurt a little. I loved doing that. It was really fun.
       I noticed Ron was caught right up in it along with the rest of us. He was laughing and carrying on, just like we were. He was going to have such a great time in Emerald Beach. I almost envied him a little bit, what with getting to live there, and all.

(Justin's Perspective)
       "What do you think?" I asked Kyle.
       "What do I think about what?"
       "The new boy. Ron. I think he's scared shitless. Ain't that what he's supposed to be?" I said.
       "Yeah, I know. Bubba, what's up with you, man?"
       "Kyle, I'm hurting for him, you know? You've never been homeless, man. You don't know what its like to not know where your next meal is coming from, or if you're ever going to have one again," I said.
       "Speaking of that, you still owe me that $7.50 I spent on that lunch for you the day we found you," Kyle said.
       "That's right. And you know what?"
       "You ain't ever paying me back?"
       "That's exactly right, Kyle. I'm going to owe you $7.50 for the rest of my fucking life," I said.
       He was laughing all over himself.
       "I know. And I wouldn't take it if you gave it to me. A million times that much, if it was for that lunch. That was the best money I ever spent in my life," he said.
       "Well, that was damn sure the best money I ever borrowed, and that's why I'm not paying you back," I said.
       "I'm going to hound you till the day you die, Justin. And I'm going to be right there at your bedside asking for it, too, Bubba. I'm going to be there, Justin. Or maybe you'll be at mine," he said.
       "I think it'll be me at yours, Kyle," I said.
       "This is depressing. Let's cut this shit out," he said.
       "Okay, but you're going to be at my bedside, aren't you?" I said.
       "You're damn right. I'm going to make sure your ass is dead."
       We both laughed.

(Ron's Perspective)
       Moving to Florida was very scary to me. A whole lot of scary stuff had happened to me, so I was sort of used to being scared, but that move was scary. I didn't know Kevin and Rick. I knew Kevin's mom, and she was about the best lady I had ever known, but I didn't know them. And I sure didn't know those boys.
       "Ron, let's go for a walk," Kyle said to me while we were between parades Saturday afternoon.
       It was Kyle and Justin, and I was afraid of them. They were so big and so athletic looking. I looked over to Dr. Foley, and she smiled and nodded, so I figured it was all right. I was very scared, but I went with them because of her.
       "Ron, we want to get some things straight, okay?" Kyle said.
       "Okay," I said. God, the way he said that scared me to death, but I didn't let on.
       "First off, you're our brother now. Anybody messing with you is also messing with us. You got that?" Kyle said.
       "I think so," I said. That was not at all what I expected.
       "I mean that now, man. If anybody messes with you at school, you tell me. You hear? The same day. Don't put up with shit for weeks, you hear?" Kyle said.
       "You don't even really know me," I said.
       "Yeah, but we're going to get to know you real good," Justin said. "But it don't matter. You're our brother, and me and Kyle will kick ass if we have to, and ask questions later. You got that?"
       That was a big relief.
       "The people at Beachside High School, where you'll be going, probably won't mess with you, even if you come out on the front steps the first day you're there, which I don't recommend, by the way. But if anybody pesters you, you let me know, you hear?" Kyle said.
       "If Kyle can't handle them, him and me can. And if we can't handle them, we've got a bunch of boys who'll have your back, too," Justin said.
       "He's right, Ron. Don't you worry about anything. You'll be safe on my turf, that's for damn sure," Kyle said.
       "Where's your boyfriend?" Justin asked me.
       "I don't have one anymore," I said. "His parents wouldn't let him come over to my house after they found out what my dad did to me."
       "Do you think they'd let him come down here and watch the parade with us?" Kyle asked.
       "I don't know. They might, since my dad isn't here. They like me okay, I guess. It was him and what he did to me that they didn't like," I said.
       "Why don't you call him and see if he can come down here?" Kyle asked.
       "Shouldn't I ask a grown-up first?" I asked.
       "Naw. It's all right. There are like three tons of food in there. Nobody cares who joins us, and everybody but you and Denny has a date," Kyle said. "Call him." He handed me his cell.
       I dialed Aaron's number. I wasn't sure anybody would answer it because I thought they might already be at a parade. His brother answered it, though, and I asked to speak to Aaron.
       "Aaron, it's your boyfriend," his brother said. He said that matter-of-fact. Aaron was out to his whole family, and they didn't care that he was gay.
       "Hey," Aaron said. He sounded like he was glad to talk to me.
       "Hi. What are you doing?"
       "Just hanging around. My dad wants to go to the parade tonight," he said.
       "Cool. Where are you guys going to be?"
       "I don't know. We usually go down around Gallier Hall. Do you know where that is?" he asked.
       "It's across the street from where I'm standing," I said. "Do you want to watch the parade together?"
       "Is your dad there?" he asked.
       "No." I explained to him about who I was with and that I would be moving to Florida. He seemed a little sad when I said that about moving.
       Aaron and I were boyfriends, or had been, but we didn't think we were in love with each other. We kissed a few times, and both of us got erections. The second time we did that, we took them out, and we let each other touch the other's. The third time we got pretty bold, and we made each other shoot. There hadn't really been a fourth time, even though we both wanted to do it again. I had my accident, and that was that. I knew it really wasn't an accident, but I didn't know what else to call it.
       "I told him I didn't feel like going to the parade, but I'm going now," he said. "I miss you, Ron."
       "I know. I miss you, too. I don't think you and I were meant to be boyfriends," I said.
       "I know. But we can have fun during Mardi Gras," he said.
       "Tell him we want him to be with us the whole time, if he wants to," Kyle said. "Tomorrow and Tuesday, too."
       "Kyle said we want you to be with us tomorrow and Tuesday, too. Do you think your parents will let you?" I asked.
       "Maybe. They know Dr. Foley. He operated on my grandpa, and he's okay now. I'll ask them," he said. "Maybe my dad can talk to Dr. Foley tonight."
       "These are nice guys I'm with, Aaron. You met Kyle and Justin when they came to the hospital with Dr. Foley. Do you remember them?"
       "Yeah, I do. Those guys? Those guys were both gorgeous," he said.
       "I know. Listen, we're in front of some lawyers' office about a half block down from Gallier Hall, but on the other side of the street. Come and look for me, okay?"
       "I will. Thanks for calling," he said.
       "Thanks for coming to see me," I said.
       We told each other goodbye.
       "Is he coming down?" Kyle asked.
       I nodded. I was smiling because I felt so good.
       "You're getting laid tonight, dude," Justin said. "Me and Kyle will fix you up. Your brothers will fix you up."
       It would be nice if that happened, but I wasn't counting on it. We had a few more hours to wait before the Krewe of Endymion started their parade, but there was another daytime parade before it started.
       We walked back down the street to the building where everybody was hanging out.
       "Ron's friend is going to be joining us later on, and I invited him to spend tomorrow and Tuesday with us, too," Kyle said to Kevin, Rick, and Dr. Foley as they were standing there talking.
       "Good, Kyle. That was a nice thing to do," Dr. Foley said.
       They all called her Grandma. I wondered if she would let me call her that, too.
       "Where are Tim and Brian?" Kyle asked.
       "Grandpa got a call to the hospital, and they went with him. Denny went, too," she said.
       "Does he want to be a doctor, too?" Justin asked.
       "I don't know about that, but he wanted to go with them," Rick said. "Since you guys left them stranded here."
       "We had business to take care of," Kyle said. He sounded pretty aggressive when he said that.
       "I'll just bet you did," Dr. Foley said.
       "We did, didn't we, Ron," Kyle said.
       "They had me to take care of," I said.
       "Did you get everything worked out?" Rick asked Kyle.
       "Yes, sir, we sure did. Excuse me for just a second. I need to talk to Cherie," Kyle said.
       He walked over to Cherie, and they talked privately for a few seconds. She looked over at me and smiled. Kyle came walking back, grinning.
       "Come here," he said to me when he was back with us. "She said you and Aaron can use her office for a little while, if you want to, but nothing on the furniture, and nothing on the floor, either. You know what I'm talking about?"
       I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I'm sure I turned as red as the cap he was wearing.
       "Here's the key. Justin and I will go up with you to run interference, if any is needed," he said. "Put it in your pocket, and don't lose it. She needs this key back tonight, you hear?"
       "Thanks," I said, putting the key in my pocket. "I won't lose it."
       "Good," he said. He flicked my nose with his finger and winked at me. God, what a nice guy, I thought.
       * * *
       After the second parade, we went upstairs to the place where the lawyers had their offices. It was a pretty big building, and there were quite a few people in there. The elevators were crowded, so we took the stairs. We only had to go to the fourth floor.
       We all had to use the bathroom, and we had to stand in line in front of the four urinals that were in the men's room to wait our turn. At least we had a clean place to go. Kyle was right about the amount of food they had. I hadn't been eating very much because I just hadn't been hungry, but I ate quite a bit that night. Somebody had set up some long tables, and they just put the food out for us to help ourselves. They had ham, turkey, roast beef, sliced cheese, and other stuff to make sandwiches. They also had a crock pot with hotdogs in it, and another crock pot with chili. That's what I ate. I had three. I ate one piece of fried chicken, too, and it was the spicy kind, just like I liked.
       "I'm glad to see you're getting your appetite back," Dr. Foley said. "I've been worried about you."
       "Yes, ma'am," I said.
       "Eat some of those vegetable casseroles, too, now. Don't forget that," she said. "The eggplant is excellent."
       "Yes, ma'am."
       "Grandma, this is a mighty good feast," Justin said. He sounded real Southern, like he was from the country or something.
       "Thank you, Justin. Everybody brought food."
       "I reckon Miss Odille cooked what you brought, right?"
       "No, Justin. I cooked every bit of it," she said.
       "For real?"
       She laughed. I could tell she liked him a lot.
       "No, baby. Odille cooked it. I can't cook, Jus," she said. "You know that."
       "You can take care of boys, though, can't you?"
       "I seem to have some skill in that regard," she said.
       "You got more than some skill. You got a prize talent, that's for sure," he said.
       After we ate, we went back down to the street. I was really excited about seeing Aaron, and I didn't have long to wait. He and his dad found us. I got an erection as soon as I saw him, and I noticed he had one, too. Kyle and Justin noticed, too, and they were both smiling.
       I introduced Aaron and his dad to Kevin, Rick, Dr. Foley, Kyle, and Justin.
       "Y'all excuse me. I need to go into the building," Justin said.
       "Yeah, me, too," Kyle said.
       I didn't get it at first.
       "You coming?" Kyle asked me.
       "Yeah. Let's go, Aaron, so we won't miss any of the parade," I said.
       "Now, y'all take your time, but you've only got a half hour. After that we're coming in to get you," Justin said, once we were up to Cherie's office.
       Inside the office, Aaron and I flew at each other and kissed. It felt so good to do that with him. That ended up being time number four and time number five.
       "Break it up," Justin was saying, pounding on the door. "The parade's almost here."
       I opened the door. Justin and Kyle had grins on their faces that were as big as any I had ever seen.
       "Y'all didn't leave any mess, did you?" Kyle asked.
       Aaron and I both blushed hard.
       "Cut the bullshit, Bubba. We know what y'all were doing. We set it up, remember?" Justin said.
       "Come on. Let's get out of here. I hear a band coming down the street," Kyle said.
       Kyle and Justin both grabbed hotdogs, squirted mustard on them but no chili, and we went down to watch Endymion.

Chapter 6

(Kyle's Perspective)
       I felt all eyes were on me and Justin because of Ron. They wanted a miracle or something, but that wasn't going to happen. That kid wasn't all that bad off, either. I knew his daddy had hit him in the head with a whiskey bottle because he was gay, and that was pretty damn bad, but I didn't think there was any deep stuff, like there was with Justin or Denny. I mean, those two boys had had the lick when they were young, and they were both managing to cope real good. Hell, Justin was a totally normal guy, as far as I knew. Denny was a little bit withdrawn, but he was coming along good.
       We skipped church on Sunday. I knew if Doc had been with us, we'd have all been paraded up that cathedral aisle, but he and Sonya were off on their honeymoon. No Doc, no church. Kevin's parents were pretty religious, especially his mother, but even they knew we had to be out there early on Sunday. That was a sort of religious thing, anyway.
       "You came in mighty late last night. Where the hell were you? Huh?"
       Justin was giving Brian a hard time, playing with him.
       "Grandpa took us out to some gay clubs. Did you know he was gay?" Brian said.
       "Yeah, right," Justin said.
       "We were at the hospital. Where'd you think we were?" Brian said.
       "I knew where you were. I was just teasing you, Little Buddy. Don't get mad at me," Jus said.
       "Come here, chump," Brian said.
       He grabbed up ole Justin and laid a heavy kiss on him right there on the street. Ron's eyes got as big as saucers.
       "Ron, we don't usually do that in public," Justin said. "But that was mighty good."
       There were some guys across the street watching every bit of what was going on. It looked like trouble to me. It was four white guys and two black guys, and they all had the same school letter jacket on. They started moving over toward us.
       "Here comes trouble," I said.
       Now, you have to understand that we had us a crowd on that street. Besides me, Tim, Justin, Brian, Denny, and Ron, we had Kevin, Rick, Seth, Curt, Jeff, Tyler, Craig, and my dad. Grandpa was there, too, but I didn't think he'd fight, if it came to that. The rest would, though, and I knew it. And here they came.
       "Hey," this big ole black boy said, coming up to us.
       "Hey, what's up, man?" I asked.
       "Not a thing. What's up with you?"
       "Just doing a little Mardi Gras, you know?" I said.
       "Yeah, same as us. Are these two boys queer?"
       "What makes you think that?" I asked. I knew damn good and well what made him think that, and he knew I knew.
       "Well, sort of the lip lock this one put on that one just now, I guess," he said. "You know what I'm saying?"
       I put my fingers up to my lips and whistled loud. "Circle up," I shouted.
       My boys all came around.
       "What the hell you doing, man?" the black guy asked.
       "I want to know what the hell you're doing," I said.
       "We came over to make friends. We're your brothers, dude. We're queer, too. Don't get hot," he said.
       I relaxed a good bit when he said that. I knew they weren't going to be trying to bash us, so the only thing I knew to do then was to introduce myself to them. They had a Justin, too, and a Tyrone. I had assumed the two black boys were a couple, but they weren't. It was two mixed couples and a white couple. Cool.
       We had us quite a table set up in that building, and we invited them in to eat. We had king cake; doughnuts; sausage, ham, steak, and chicken biscuits; a big bowl of fruit; frozen pancakes, waffles, and French toast to heat up on a Foreman grill; butter and syrup; two or three kinds of juice. Milk. Coffee. Bottles of water. We had everything.
       "Come inside and get some breakfast," Kevin said.
       They didn't want to at first because they were too polite, but they eventually got them each a good breakfast. I had bought way more food than we needed, and those boys helped me get rid of that stuff.
       They ended up joining us for the rest of the day, and we ended up making us some good new friends. Four of those boys went to UNO, one went to Loyola, and one was taking a year off to work before going to college. They had all been friends in high school, a Catholic school, but a different one from the one Seth went to. We told them we were planning to come to New Orleans for college, and they seemed pretty glad about that. Our circle of New Orleans friends was growing, and I was glad of that. We told them if they came to Emerald Beach for Spring Break to look us up, and they said they would. We'll see.
       * * *
       When we went out on the street on Sunday morning, it was cool enough to need a jacket. Not only that, all the big buildings around there turned that street into a wind tunnel, and the shadows of the buildings kept it cool. By the middle of the day, though, the sun was more or less over head, and it started heating up. I'm not talking summer hot, but it was hot enough for us to take shirts off and get some sun.
       While we were standing there watching the Mid City parade, this guy on a float threw a pair of beads at me. That's what he was supposed to do, and that's what I wanted him to do. There were several other strands coming at me all at once, so I blocked that one against my chest so I could use my hands on the others.
       What must have happened is, one of the beads on the strand got caught in the little gold loop I had through my nipple. We had been playing around all afternoon, stealing beads from one another. Seth grabbed at the strand that was against my chest, and he pulled it. When he did that, he pulled the ring right out of my nipple.
       God Almighty! Did I see stars, or what? That hurt like a motherfucker! All of a sudden I'm bleeding. It wasn't a gushing bleeding like from an artery or anything, but there was a lot of blood.
       "Tim, help me," I said.
       He was standing right next to me, but he hadn't seen what happened. All of a sudden, all he sees is blood coming out of my chest, and he doesn't know if I've been shot, or what. There was a look of panic on his face.
       He grabbed me by the hand and sort of pulled me over to where Grandma and some of the others were standing. Her eyes got huge when she saw me.
       "What happened?" she asked.
       "The ring that was in my nipple got pulled out by some beads," I said.
       All of them looked like they relaxed a little when I said that. She quick sent Craig to her car to get her doctor kit. Tim ran inside the building and got a wad of paper towels for me to use to stop the bleeding. Grandma took them away from me and started dabbing at it to clean me up.
       "Does he need to get to an emergency room?" my dad asked. He sounded pretty nervous.
       "I don't know yet. Let me get this bleeding stopped," she said.
       She had a bottle of something in her kit, and she put some of it on a little ball of cotton. When she dabbed that on me, it burned like fire. It stopped the bleeding, though.
       "I don't think he needs stitches," she said. "It's not a very deep wound."
       The piercing wasn't very deep, so it didn't make that big of a tear when it came out. She cleaned it up good with some more stuff from her kit, and then she put some ointment on it. She put a bandage over that and taped it on.
       "Why don't you take out the other one, son," my dad said. At my age he didn't give me direct orders much anymore, but I knew he wanted me to do it.
       "I'm taking mine out," Tim said.
       "Me, too," I said, and I took the other one out.
       "The holes will grow back, guys," Grandma said.
       "Do you think I'll have a scar?" I asked.
       "I doubt it. It'll take it a week or so to heal, but I don't really think it will scar," she said.
       "Kyle, I thought you had been shot," Tim said.
       "I thought the same thing when I first saw the blood, Tim," Grandma said. "Kyle, I'm going to give you a tetanus shot. You don't have reactions to those, do you?"
       "No, ma'am," I said. I had had me plenty of those growing up.
       After she gave me the shot, I put my shirt back on to watch the rest of the parade.
       In just a minute, here comes Seth.
       "Kyle, can I talk to you?" he asked. I knew he was worried.
       "Sure, Bubba. What's on your mind?"
       "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Kyle. I would never do that on purpose. I love you," he said.
       "Oh, I know that. It was an accident. It just stung a little," I said. It stung a lot, I thought, but I didn't want to say that to him.
       "Are you mad at me?" he asked.
       "Hell, no, I'm not mad at you, Bubba. It was just a freak accident. I love you, too, you know. By the way, that Curt is a cutie," I said. I wanted to change the subject.
       "Thanks. I think he is, too," he said.
       "Let's get back to the parade," I said.
       The New Orleans boys we had met that morning left after Mid-City. They thanked us all for feeding them and for letting them hang out with us. They were really, really nice, and I hoped we would get to know them better in the future. We swapped emails, but you know how that is.
       We had a few hours before Bacchus, the night mega-parade, started. Some of them went inside to rest, but me and Tim, and Justin and Brian went walking. Ole Ron had borrowed the key to Cherie's office again, so I pretty much knew what he and Aaron were doing. I knew Denny really liked Jeff and Ty, and they really liked him, so they were hanging out together.
       There were still a whole lot of people on the street. Some little kids were scrounging around in the paper and debris that was in the gutter looking for beads that people missed. We were walking toward Canal Street on St. Charles, just taking in the sights.
       "Aren't those the guys we met at Christmas?" Brian asked.
       He was talking about two boys around our age in front of a building across the street. The sign on the front of the building said "Smyth and Associates."
       "I think they are, Babe," Tim said. "Grandma and Grandpa's neighbors. Remember? We even shot some pool with them one night."
       "Oh, yeah," I said.
       The street was still blocked off from traffic, so we strolled on over. They recognized us before we got there, so they were both wearing big smiles by the time we got to them. It was all handshakes and hugs and pats on the back. I was glad to see them, and they seemed glad to see us.
       "You guys having a good time?" Kevin Smyth asked.
       "The best," Jus said, "but Kyle got his tit ripped off this afternoon."
       "What?" Matt Smyth asked.
       "I got some beads caught in my nipple ring, and my brother ripped it out," I said. "No biggie. It was just a freak accident."
       "We thought he had been shot in the chest," Tim said.
       "Are you okay?" Kevin Smyth asked.
       "Oh, yeah. It's a little sore, but it's not going to slow me down," I said.
       "I think you could probably use a little anesthesia," Kevin said.
       He pulled a silver flask out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to me. I opened it.
       "What is this?" I asked.
       "Bourbon," Kevin said.
       I took a pull on that flask, and that liked to have burned my throat out. I coughed. I hadn't ever had straight whiskey before.
       "Just take little sips," Kevin said.
       Now you tell me, I thought. He was tickled with what I had done, though.
       Kevin and Matt lit up smokes, so Justin hauled his out. He got one for himself and fired it up.
       "Let me have one, too," I said.
       He used to offer them to me every time he had one, but now he never did because I would always tell him "no, thanks." Almost always.
       "Give Justin some whiskey," Kevin said.
       I handed the flask to Justin, and he did better than I had. He just took a sip, but I could tell even that little bit burned.
       "Our dads are in the next parade," Matt said. "We're going to have to go across the street to be on their side, though."
       "Oh, yeah? Cool," I said. "That's the side we're on. Do they throw you a lot of stuff?"
       "Not really," Kevin said. "They would if we wanted them to, but I think it's more fun to catch 'em strand by strand than in a big bag, or something."
       "That's true," Justin said.
       "I thought you guys were traveling," Tim said.
       "We are. We just came in for Mardi Gras. We drove here from Denver," Kevin said. "We're going to Florida--Key West, actually--next Monday."
       We talked some more, and then we walked back to our headquarters. They came with us to get something to eat. They knew just about everybody. They didn't know Matt and Cathy Adams, but Matt and Cathy knew their dads. It was almost like Emerald Beach where everybody knew you, or at least knew your parents. It might have just been the lawyer connection, though.
       "Kevin, let's refill your flask," I said to Kevin Smyth.
       That one was a devil, I could tell. Takes one to know one, I guess. He and I got the flask up to full, and he tucked it away. If anybody saw what we were doing, they didn't care.
       "I'm getting me one of those tomorrow," I said.
       He laughed. "They come in handy. You guys ever go camping?"
       "As often as we can," I said. "We do more boat stuff, though. There's this great island about twenty minutes by boat from where we live, and we like to camp there. Naked."
       He laughed.
       "I'm serious, man. We strip the second we make landfall, and we stay that way till we leave," I said.
       "That sounds like fun," he said.
       "It is. When are you and Matt going to come see us? We've come to see you all twice now, and you ain't once come to see us," I said.
       "We will. Don't worry," he said.
       We really liked those two boys, and we could tell they really liked us, too.
       Kevin and Matt stayed with us to watch the parade. Afterwards, we went down to the French Quarter to walk around. There were a bunch of drunk people down there, and we passed the flask around several times to try to catch up. None of us got drunk though, but I tell you what. My nipple wasn't bothering me.

(Kevin's Perspective)
       Mardi Gras is a wonderful experience, especially if you do it the way we did, but it's pretty much the same thing, year after year. I mean, there are new sights, new parades sometimes, new little bars to discover, but we had done it big the first year we had taken the boys. The second year was sort of a repeat, and there wasn't the sense of wonder in them that we had seen the first time. It's like going to Disney World. The first time is unbelievable. After that, it's still wonderful fun, but you know what to expect.
       What we had no way to expect was the news that awaited us in Emerald Beach. We got home around noon on Wednesday, and there were a ton of messages on our answering machine. Most of them were for Denny, and the news was bad. His debate partner, Josh Stanton, had killed himself.
       The first two messages were just girls crying. It wasn't until the third message that the debate coach, who sounded pretty weepy herself, said that he had done the deed. Tim and Brian had taken it upon themselves to get Ron situated in his new home, so it was just Kyle, Justin, Denny, Rick, and I who heard the message. Denny broke down right away.
       Kyle and Justin put their arms around their brother immediately. They walked him over to a sofa and sat him down. He was crying inconsolably, and Kyle and Justin were crying, too. Rick and I had tears in our eyes, as well.
       "He killed himself because he was gay. I know it," Denny said. "He wanted to be my boyfriend, but I just wanted to be his friend. I'm so bad. I feel so bad."
       The answering machine was still spewing out messages. There was one from Sally Ortega, the principal of Beachside High School.
       "Kyle, when you get this message, please come to school immediately. I think you'll probably get it later this afternoon, Wednesday, so please come. We need you," she said.
       "Did you hear that?" Rick asked Kyle.
       "Yeah, I heard it. What the hell does she want?"
       "Kyle, a suicide is a major trauma to a school, son. Like it or not, you're the president. She needs you right now. The other kids need you. You're a strong man, Kyle. It's time to be strong, son," Rick said.
       "My brother needs me, too, don't you think?"
       "Your brother has us, Kyle. You need to go to school," I said.
       "I want Tim to go with me," he said. "And Brian and Justin, too."
       I trotted upstairs where Tim and Brian were getting Ron settled in. They were laughing and having a good time, and I hated to tell them what was going on.
       "Denny's debate partner killed himself, and they want Kyle at school. He wants you two guys to go with him," I said.
       "Oh, my God," Tim said.
       "Support Kyle, guys. He's never had to deal with this before, and this is serious stuff," I said.
       "You know we will, Kevin," Brian said.
       "Yeah, I do, Bubba. I do."

(Kyle's Perspective)
       What a way to come back from Mardi Gras. It was Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent and one of the most solemn days in the Catholic Church. It was a day when we weren't supposed to eat any meat. In fact, we were supposed to fast all day long until dinner, and no meat at dinner, either. We had done that, too. The younger guys could eat fish or something like that for lunch, but the ones over eighteen, like me, had to fast.
       I had a parking place right in front of the school, next to the Teacher of the Year. When I went into the office, Miss Sally was right there, like she was waiting for me.
       "I'm so glad you're here. You know what happened, don't you?"
       "Yes, ma'am. I have the basic outline. I don't really have any details, though," I said.
       "The police found Josh last night at one of the ballparks. He had put a pistol in his mouth and pulled the trigger," she said.
       "Oh, my God," I said.
       "Yeah, it's that bad," she said. "This is only the second student suicide we've had here, and, frankly, I'm not handling it well."
       "Did he leave a note or anything?" I asked.
       "Yes, he did. It was in his pocket, and it's addressed to you, Kyle."
       My stomach turned to water, and I wanted to run out of there. I was so glad my boys were with me. Tim and Justin each put a hand on one of my shoulders, and that settled me down some.
       "Can I see it?"
       "Yeah. Let's go into my office," she said. "Sit down, boys. He loved and admired you, Kyle. It's not an indictment of you, by any means. He wants you to be his spokesman."
       She handed me the letter, and I read it.

   Dear Kyle,
           Tonight I told my parents I'm gay, and they got mad. They said I wasn't their son, and I was not to expect any support from them. I didn't really expect them to act quite that bad about it, but I had made plans, just in case they did. I had one of my dad's pistols, and I knew how to use it. If they didn't want me, I didn't want myself anymore, either. If you're reading this, then you know I went through with it.
           I want you to tell my parents, and the students and teachers at Beachside, that I was a good boy. I tried to follow all the rules, and, most of all, I tired so hard not to be gay. I didn't want to be gay, but I couldn't help it. I tried hard, Kyle. Please believe me.
           Everybody knows you're gay, and they all like you. Well, they didn't like me that much. Denny and Chip did, but that wasn't enough. You don't have to do this if you don't want to, but I want them to know I was a good boy, and I tried very, very hard.
                                               Your friend,
                                               Josh Stanton

       By the time I finished that letter, I was a basket case. I had started crying when he said he had told his parents he was gay and they got mad. By the time I finished reading it, I was sobbing. I couldn't even talk. He was a good boy. He wasn't a good boy. He was a fabulous boy, a wonderful boy. And he was gone. Dead at fifteen.
       When I pulled myself together, I said, "I want to read this on the announcements tomorrow morning."
       "I was hoping you'd say that. Do you think you can get through it?"
       "Yes, ma'am," I said. "This boy was one of my brother's best friends, Miss Sally. That Denny he talked about in that letter is my brother."
       "Oh, my God. I didn't know that, Kyle," she said. "One of the foster boys?"
       "Yes, ma'am, he is. Denny Morgan. They were debate partners. Chip Rooney is their other best friend. Does Chip know about this?" I asked.
       "No. At least I don't think so. How would you feel about having an assembly about it this afternoon?"
       "It's going to be on the news tonight. They might as well hear it here first, don't you think?" I said.
       "Yeah, I think you're right. The teachers are going to hate me for doing this. We'll have an emergency assembly at two o'clock. In the auditorium," she said. "That's a better place than the gym."
       We had about a half hour to get that organized. I wanted to talk to Chip before the assembly.
       "Hey, Kyle. What's up, dude?" he asked. He was all smiles.
       "Something bad, man. Josh killed himself."
       It was like I had dumped a ton of wet cement on Chip. He was stunned.
       "What?" he asked.
       "Josh committed suicide, man," I said.
       It took him a second or two to process that. Then he started crying.
       "It's because he was gay, isn't it?" Chip asked.
       "Yeah."
       "Jesus Christ, Kyle. Why would being gay kill somebody? He had friends, man. He knew that. I was his friend, and Denny was his friend. Why would he do that, Kyle?"
       "It wasn't you guys. It was the way his parents reacted when he came out to them," I said.
       "I hate them, Kyle. I want to kill them because they killed my friend," he said.
       "Come on, Bubba. You know that's bullshit talking. You ain't killing anybody," I said.
       "Maybe not, but I want to," he said.
       "Well, you're not going to do it, so you might as well stop the big talk. We're fixing to have an assembly about it, and I'm going to read his letter to me. It made me cry," I said, and I cried again, just thinking about it.
       "It's going to make me cry too, isn't it?" he asked.
       "It's going to make you blubber your head off. Really big time," I said. "You sit with Tim and Brian and Justin. I don't want you sitting by yourself in there."
       At ten minutes to two, Miss Sally went on TV.
       "There will be a brief, but extremely important, assembly at two o'clock in the Fine Arts Auditorium. Attendance is mandatory. Wait until after the assembly to go to your lockers. Teachers, please bear with us and accompany your classes to the auditorium when the bell rings," she said. "We will dismiss from the assembly."
       The bell rang at five minutes to two, and they all went to the auditorium. It was 2:10 before everybody was in there and settled down.
       "Ladies and gentlemen, last night our school family took a terrible hit. One of our freshmen, Joshua Stanton, took his own life," Miss Sally said.
       A few people screamed out when she said that, but otherwise you could have heard a pin drop.
       "Josh was fifteen, he was an outstanding student, and he was a member of our debate team. He had many friends who loved him dearly. He asked Kyle Goodson, president of our Student Government Association, to act as his spokesman. I'd like to ask Kyle to come forward at this time."
       That was the quietest I had ever heard a school full of kids be in a place like that. Nobody was talking, and nobody was even moving around. I heard a couple of coughs, but that was all.
       "Last year when I was running for SGA President," I said, "I based my election speech on the idea of tolerance. Tolerance for racial minorities, tolerance for ethnic minorities, and tolerance for sexual minorities, like gays, lesbians, and bisexuals. When I made that speech, I went out of my way to try to be funny, and I got some good laughs. I'm standing here before you today in total seriousness, though, but the issue is the same. Tolerance, or what the lack of tolerance can cause.
       "All of you see me every day on TV making the announcements. If you went to any of the Homecoming activities, you saw me talking there. You hear me at every pep rally. I always try to put humor in what I tell you, but there's no humor in what I have to say today. Fellow students, one of our own is dead right now because of a lack of tolerance. Let me read to you the letter Josh Stanton left. I'm probably going to cry, so please bear with me."
       I read Josh's letter, and I'll bet you half the kids in that auditorium were crying.
       "I didn't know Josh very well, but he was my brother's debate partner. They were best friends, and my brother is at home right now crying and grieving.
       "There is a much higher rate of suicide among gay kids than there is in the rest of the population, and it all goes back to the fact that people can't accept them for who they are. I'm sure those of you who knew Josh had no idea he was gay. Hell, I didn't know it, and he was my brother's best friend. But coming out is a pretty important thing for a gay guy, and Josh wanted his parents to know that about him and to accept him anyway. They couldn't, and he couldn't accept himself because they couldn't accept him.
       "What Josh did makes no sense. He had friends who would have looked after him, and the state of Florida would have found a good place for him to live, if his parents wouldn't have him at home. Josh was confused, though, and scared and rejected. The very people who were supposed to love him the most, and look out for him no matter what, let him down. They were intolerant. They wouldn't accept his gayness, and, therefore, they wouldn't accept him.
       "The part of his letter that got me the worst was when he said, If they didn't want me, I didn't want myself anymore, either. Josh was a very good boy, a wonderful boy. He didn't want to be gay, and he didn't have any control over the fact that he was gay. When you leave here today, I hope you'll think about that. I hope you'll pray for Josh, but I also hope you'll pray for his family and for the other boys and girls in this school, and in schools all over America and the whole world, who are going through the same thing Josh went through. And I hope you'll pray for tolerance. Thank you."
       It was quiet for a few seconds. Dead quiet. Then the whole auditorium busted out in applause. They ended up standing up to clap, and I took that to mean they believed and understood what I had said. That was the second time in my life I had gotten a standing ovation, and I wished I had never had to say what I had to say to get it.
       Miss Sally said the school counselors would be there as late as they needed to be to talk to anybody who wanted to talk about what had happened. She also said thirty additional psychologists and counselors from the school district would be on call that afternoon and all day the next day. She said no funeral plans had been made but that friends of Josh would be allowed to miss school to attend his funeral when it happened.
       All my people had come to school for that assembly. My parents, Kevin and Rick, Tim, Justin, and Brian, and Denny. Jeff and Tyler had stayed home with Ron, who really didn't need to be there. They all told me I had done a good job with my speech, but I didn't care about that. I felt numb. I just wanted to go home and sit quietly with my brothers in the den.
       "Thank you, Kyle," Miss Sally said. "I knew I could count on you. I think what you said sunk in, at least for some of them."
       "Yes, ma'am," I said. What else do you say to something like that?
       * * *
       Everybody went back to North Lagoon Drive. We were all tired from our trip, but everybody wanted to be together. I sat on the sofa with Tim on one side of me and my mom on the other. They took turns holding me and petting me. Kevin and Rick took Denny somewhere. That poor little boy was really upset, and I knew they were trying to convince him it wasn't his fault about what happened. Jeff and Tyler looked after Ron. It was his first few hours in our family, and he didn't need to have to deal with the shit that was going on.
       Justin and Brian went to get the dogs. When they brought them home, that actually perked people up a little bit. It's hard to be sad around a puppy who hasn't seen you in a few days, and I think little Krewe helped us all feel better. Trixie wasn't much more than a puppy herself, and she helped us a lot, too.
       Around five o'clock the mourning in the den was coming to an end. My parents left to go home, and Denny was pretty well under control by then. Jeff and Ty went home, too, and it was just the six boys, Kevin, and Rick at their house. The phone rang, and it was for me. It was Josh's minister.
       "Kyle, I'd like to talk to you," he said.
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       "May I come over?"
       "Yes, sir, I guess so. When?"
       "As soon as possible, son," he said. "Now, even."
       "Yes, sir. That would be okay. Do you know where I am?"
       "Not exactly," he said.
       I gave him the address and some directions for how to get here.
       "Who was that?" Kevin asked.
       "He said he's John Winfield, Josh's minister. He wants to talk to me," I said.
       "We don't know what this is all about, but I think your dad should be here, Kyle," Kevin said.
       "Okay," I said.
       Winfield got there in about forty minutes, and my dad was already there when he showed up. He and mom had just gotten home when Kevin called him, and he must have turned right around and driven back to Emerald Beach.
       Mr. Winfield introduced himself as the pastor of the Emerald Beach Fellowship, a Southern Baptist congregation. We all introduced ourselves to him, and offered him a seat. Rick asked if anybody would like a cup of coffee, and he got busy getting it for us. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, and I was hungry as hell. Rick knew that, and he cut up one of the king cakes we had brought home with us to serve with the coffee. We entertained the Reverend in the living room, and not the den.
       "I really would like to speak with Kyle in private," Mr. Winfield said.
       "No. If you talk to my son at all, you talk to him with me and these men present," Dad said.
       The people there, besides me and Winfield, were Dad, Kevin, and Rick. I felt pretty secure with them there.
       "Very well. Kyle, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton are pretty devastated by what happened. Did you know Josh well?"
       "No, sir, not well. I knew him, though. He was my brother Denny's debate partner and best friend. Denny's only been here a short time, though," I said.
       "Did you know Josh was gay?" he asked.
       "No, sir," I said.
       "Kyle, in my church we take a pretty dim view of homosexuality, and more than once I've preached about the evils of that abomination. The gays in this country are doing everything in their power to lure innocent boys like Josh to their way of life, and you see the end result. A boy in the flower of youth brutally taking his own life."
       I could tell my dad was getting mad as hell, but he didn't say anything.
       "What do I, as God's minister and spokesperson, say to the family? How do I help them realize that Joshua's death is part of His plan for them? How do I console people whose son has heaped the sin of suicide onto the sin of homosexuality?"
       "That's enough," my dad said. "You have to leave."
       "I beg your pardon?" Winfield said. "I was under the impression I was in these gentlemen's home, not yours, sir."
       "This is my gay son you're talking to, and these are two of my best friends, who are a happily married gay couple. I don't know what your agenda is, Reverend, but I won't let you castigate and intimidate three of the finest men I know. Come on, Kyle. We're going home," Dad said.
       I stood up to leave.
       "No. Stay put Gene and Kyle," Rick said. "You're right, Mr. Winfield, this is mine and my husband's home, and we want you out of here right now."
       Rick and Kevin both stood up, and they towered over that guy. Those two boys weren't really all that big, but I'm sure they looked big to the Reverend from his position in that chair he was in.
       "Very well," he said. "I'll go, but the evil of your lives will return to haunt you and destroy you. God have pity on you and bring you around to Him."
       "Get out of here," Rick said.
       The man got up and left without anybody showing him to the door.
       I could see that my dad was so mad he was shaking.
       "Kyle, give me a cigarette," he said. He used to smoke when he was young, but he had quit years ago. What was that all about, I wondered.
       "I don't have any, Daddy," I said.
       "Here, Gene," Kevin said, handing him his pack and his lighter.
       My dad took one and handed the pack to me. I took one out, too. I didn't really feel like smoking, but I guess he wanted me to, or something. He took about two puffs on his and stubbed it out.
       "I don't even want this damn thing," he said. "I haven't smoked in ten years, but that was the first thing I thought of. That's how rattled I am."
       So what the hell do I do now, I wondered. I put mine out, too.
       "Son, you know everything that jerk said is bullshit, don't you?" Dad asked me.
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       "Have his parents seen the letter, Kyle?" Kevin asked.
       "I don't know," I said. "I don't even know if they were at the assembly. Probably not, though."
       "They need to see it, son. They need to know how their boy felt right at his last," Daddy said.
       "I agree with your dad, Kyle. How do we get it to them, I wonder," Kevin said.
       "I guess we could take it by there. Denny knows where he lives," I said.
       "Denny!" Rick called out.
       "Yes, sir," Denny said when he came into the living room.
       "You know where Josh lives, don't you?" Rick asked.
       "Yes, sir," Denny said, and he rattled off an address.
       "Thanks, son. Tell Justin to get some food together for everybody, Denny," Rick said. "We'll be back in a little while."
       "Okay," Denny said.
       Me, my dad, Kevin, and Rick all went to Josh's house. We stopped at a convenience store and made a photocopy of the letter, though. There was a bunch of cars at the house, and we saw Reverend Winfield get out of his car as we pulled up. Kevin and Rick stayed in the car, and me and Dad went to the door.
       A guy answered it when we rang the bell.
       "Mr. Stanton?" Dad asked.
       "No. I'll get him," the guy said.
       Mr. Stanton came to the door. He was real pale looking, and you could tell he had been crying a lot.
       "What can I do for you?" he asked.
       "I'm Gene Goodson, and this is my son, Kyle. Josh left a letter for Kyle, and I think you and your wife need to see it," he said.
       "Would you like to come in?" Mr. Stanton asked.
       "No, sir," Daddy said. "This is a time for you to be with your closest friends and relatives. I've lost a young son, and I know what it's like. My wife and I, and Kyle, too, of course, offer our deepest condolences. By the way, you might want to wait to read that letter in private."
       "Thank you for your concern," he said.
       That was it. We went back to the car and went home. Everybody was pretty subdued.
       "I feel for that man," Dad finally said. "I know what it's like to lose a son, and it's about the worst thing you can go through. But to have to face what he'll have to face when he reads that letter would be more than I could bear."
       "Why did y'all think they should see it?" I asked.
       "You read it at the assembly, son," Dad said. "I think you did the right thing in reading it, don't get me wrong, but it's going to be all over the community in no time, if it isn't already. They have a right to read it for themselves, instead of depending on rumors and gossip to find out what it says."
       "Is Denny okay?" I asked.
       "He's pretty upset, but he'll get over it," Rick said. "He's not thinking real clear right now. He thinks that somehow it was his fault because he didn't want to be Josh's boyfriend."
       "That doesn't make any sense," I said.
       "I know, but he's fifteen, Kyle. I told you he's not thinking very clearly," Rick said.
       "What a way to end Mardi Gras," I said.
       "I know. This has turned out to be Ash Wednesday in more ways than one," Kevin said.

Chapter 7

(Ron's Perspective)
       I couldn't believe or understand everything that had happened to me. During the summer I met a guy named Aaron. We were on the same Babe Ruth baseball team. We were both fourteen, going on fifteen, and we had both just finished eighth grade. We became friends right away.
       All through the summer we practiced and played together. My dad loved it that I was playing Babe Ruth because that's what he had done. I played third base, and I was pretty good. Aaron played left field. We were about equal as hitters, but I could handle the ball on defense better than he could. He had a great peg to home, though.
       He didn't live that far from me, and he and I started hanging out. I usually went over to his house. Both of his parents worked, so we had the full run of his house when they weren't there. We didn't do anything wrong. I knew I was gay, and I hoped he was, too. Or at least that he wouldn't hate me because I was gay. I just came out and told him one day that I thought I might be gay, and he said he thought he might be, too. We talked about other guys we knew that we thought might be gay.
       As time went by, I got a crush on him. I knew I had to be careful around the other guys on the team and around our parents. One time, though, I screwed up and kissed him. He didn't say anything about that, but he smiled when I did it. I didn't think anybody had seen us, but I guess I was wrong.
       School started. We went to different schools, so we didn't see each other every day, but we got together as often as we could.
       "What were you thinking when you kissed me last summer?" he asked me one day.
       "I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry," I said.
       "No, it was okay. I just was wondering what you were thinking," he said.
       "I was thinking I like you a whole lot. More than anybody I've ever known before. If I might be gay, and you might be gay, why not? I won't do it again," I said. "I promise."
       "What if I want you to?" he asked.
       "You want me to kiss you?" I asked.
       Could this be true, I wondered. I thought about him all the time. I saw him naked when I jerked off. In fact, I mentally saw him hard and us jerking each other off.
       "Yeah," he said. "Do you know how to kiss with tongue?"
       "I've read about it," I said.
       "Come here."
       It was a Saturday afternoon in his bedroom. He had just turned fifteen, and I was going to be fifteen in two weeks on October 15th. He pulled me to him, and we kissed. He opened his mouth for my tongue, and I opened mine for his. I was in heaven.
       My parents let me invite him to sleep over for my birthday, and that night we touched each other's dick for the first time. Later in that weekend, we made each other shoot. We were both nervous when we did it, and we only did it once, but I loved doing it. I felt like I finally had somebody that knew how I felt, and he felt the same way. Once Aaron and I had done that with each other, I knew I would never again be ashamed for wanting to do it with a guy.
       I slept over at his house the next weekend, and we did it again. All during the week between those times I thought about him all the time. I got hard as a rock in class thinking about him, and sometimes my jeans got so wet in front that I was sure everybody noticed. Nobody said anything, though.
       The next week, on a Friday night, I had my accident. It wasn't really an accident because I knew my dad wanted to hit me and maybe even kill me. He was drunk because he and his guys had solved a big case that day, and they had gone out to celebrate. A squad car had brought him home.
       I was already in bed when he got home, but I wasn't asleep. I was thinking about Aaron and getting ready to masturbate. I was so hard that the front of my briefs were already wet.
       "Ronnie, get your faggot ass out here," he screamed.
       "Ron, you're drunk. Shut up," my mom said.
       "I might be drunk, but I want that faggot out here right now," he screamed. "Go get him."
       "No," she said. "Shut up and go to bed. You're so drunk you're out of your head. Go to bed."
       "I'm not going to bed. I want his faggot ass out here right now."
       I heard him rummaging around in the cabinet where they kept the liquor.
       "Ron, you don't need another drink. You've had way too much already," Mom said.
       "Yes, I do. Are you going to get him or not?"
       I heard my two little brothers crying. They got up and went into the kitchen, where my parents were. I got up and closed my bedroom door.
       "Get them back to bed," my dad said. "Now!"
       "Come on, guys. Let's go back to bed," I heard my mother say. She took the little boys back to the room they slept in. I had a room to myself.
       The next thing I knew, the door to my bedroom went flying open.
       "Why the fuck is this door closed? Huh?"
       "Dad, . . . "
       "Don't 'Dad' me. You fucking come when I call you. Get up," he screamed.
       "Don't hurt me," I pleaded.
       "Get your fucking faggot ass up," he said.
       He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me out of bed. I was in just my briefs, and I still had an erection. He walked me down the hall to the kitchen, still holding my hair. Cops know how to do stuff like that.
       "Ron, let him go back to bed. You're drunk. You don't know what you're doing," my mother said.
       "I fucking well know what I'm doing. Look at this goddamn faggot, with a hard-on in front of his own mother. You faggots ain't got respect for anybody, do you?" he said.
       If I had been able to die at that minute, I would have considered myself lucky. I was so humiliated, so totally embarrassed, that death would have been a good thing. I didn't know why he was doing this to me.
       "I ran into a guy I knew in a bar tonight. He said he saw you and his nephew kissing. I said he was mistaken, and he said, oh, no, he knew you. He said he always thought his nephew--some punk named Aaron--was a fag, and then he knew. It's that same Aaron that's been here, ain't it? Do you have any idea how embarrassed I was? Huh? How much shame I felt that this guy was saying my son is a fag, and he saw it? Huh? Answer me," he screamed.
       Tears of humiliation were streaming down my face. I didn't understand what was going on.
       "Ron, leave Ronnie alone. Let him go back to bed," my mom said.
       That's when he picked up a square whiskey bottle.
       "Answer me, goddamn it!"
       I couldn't say anything. He came at me with the bottle, like he was going to break it over my head. I put my arms up to defend myself.
       The next thing I knew, I was in a hospital room with a terrible headache. A nurse came and asked me how I was feeling. I told her I had a bad headache, and she gave me a shot that made me go to sleep.
       * * *
       The next day I woke up, and Aaron was in the room with me. He kissed me and smiled at me. He was so nice. In a few minutes, Dr. Foley came in to see me. She didn't examine me or anything. She had two of her grandsons with her. One guy had black hair and skin like he had a real good tan or something or maybe was part Italian. I had seen his picture in her office. The other one was a big blond. They were both beautiful. I talked some with them, but I don't remember what we said.
       I went home that same day. My dad wasn't around much after that, and, when he was, he didn't talk to me or even look at me. He had been suspended from his job on the New Orleans police force for some reason. He and my mom didn't talk to each other, either.
       As I started thinking about what had happened, I got really sad and depressed. My mom took me to see Dr. Foley, and she gave me medicine that she said would make me feel better. Well, it didn't. The next thing I knew, my mom and my little brothers were living with my aunt and uncle. I was living with my grandparents. My dad wasn't in the picture.
       My grandparents loved me, but they were old and sick. I had to leave the house forty-five minutes earlier than usual to take a city bus to school. I didn't see my mom for a long time.
       Christmas sucked. My mom came and got all of us to take us to my aunt and uncle's house for Christmas dinner, but there weren't any presents. They didn't even have a Christmas tree except for a little two-foot artificial one on a table in their living room. I don't know where my dad was.
       January dragged on at my grandparents' house. I got sadder and sadder, and I missed a bunch of days of school because they couldn't wake me up in the morning. Sometimes I'd sleep all day.
       Then, all of a sudden, I was at Dr. Foley's house. I didn't know what was going on, but she told me she had made arrangements for me to go live with her sons in Florida.
       "Do you remember Kyle and Justin from when you were in the hospital?" she asked me.
       "Yes, ma'am," I said.
       I remembered some boys from Florida coming there with her, but I didn't remember their names.
       "Those boys are going to be your brothers, and they're going to make you well, Ron," she said.
       "I hope so."
       She kept me home from school that week. I called Aaron several times, but he wasn't able to come to the phone.
       I was like a zombie when I met those Florida guys. I really didn't know what was going on, or what to expect, and I was really scared. They had come for Mardi Gras, and they treated me like I was one of them, right from the first. They called each other Bubba, which I knew meant Brother, and they called me that, too.
       After they were there for a little while, they wanted to put their stuff away in the 'boys' house,' by which they meant the apartment above the garage. There were four bedrooms in the main house, and Kevin and Rick, Gene and Rita, and Jeff and Tyler stayed in those, along with Dr. and Dr. Foley, of course. The rest of us stayed in the boys' house, which was Justin and Brian, Kyle and Tim, Denny and me. The third bedroom, Denny's room, only had a daybed in it, so I slept on a blow-up mattress on the floor. That was fine with me.
       I think walking up those stairs with those boys is what did it for me. Kyle and Tim, and Justin and Brian, were obviously couples in love, and I could tell that. But they also loved Denny. And I thought they were beginning to love me. I felt the sadness I had been having begin to fall off me as I walked out there with those boys. For the first time in a long time I felt good. Not only didn't they care if I was gay, they were gay, too. They were gay and good looking and happy and normal, and I was going to be their brother.
       Saturday afternoon we went to the parades downtown. My mom used to take me and my brothers over to my aunt's house on Carnival Day, and we'd walk down a few blocks to see the parades. We never went to any of the other ones, though, and my dad always had to work. It was so much fun being with those guys. They laughed and joked and teased one another all the time. They asked me if I wanted to call Aaron to see if he wanted to come down and watch the parades with us. I called him and he did.
       Kyle was the cutest one, I thought, and he's the one I liked the best. He borrowed the key to Cherie's office and let me and Aaron use it to be alone. At first we just talked, and we told each other everything that had happened. Then we kissed. Oh, did we kiss. We both got hard pretty fast, and we rubbed our dicks together standing up, kissing. That made both of us shoot. We did it a few more times, and then we went back outside with the rest of them. Aaron came over on Sunday, too, and we did it again in the office.
       "I can't come on Tuesday," Aaron said. "I have to go out with my parents."
       "I might not ever see you again," I said.
       "I know," he said. "I love you, Ron. I wish you didn't have to leave, but I know you do. I'll never forget you."
       I started crying when he said that, and he cried, too. He was my first boyfriend, the first person I ever kissed besides my mom and relatives. I knew I would miss him, but I didn't want to stay in New Orleans.
       Before we left on Wednesday, Dr. Foley made me call my mom to tell her goodbye. We didn't talk very long because she was crying so hard, and that made me cry, too. I was crying, but I didn't really feel sad because I knew things were going to be good for me in Florida.
       * * *
       They lived in a beautiful house in Emerald Beach. I had my own room, and it had a computer in it. It had a TV, too, and I even had my own bathroom.
       Jeff and his boyfriend Tyler were helping me get settled in my new room.
       "Are Kevin and Rick real strict?" I asked.
       "No, not at all, buddy," Jeff said. "As long as you behave yourself, anyway."
       "Like what?" I asked.
       "Skipping school, getting drunk, not cooperating with the rest of the family. Just stuff like that," he said.
       "Kyle and Justin cuss in front of them," I said. It wasn't really a question, but I thought their cussing in front of grown-ups was unusual.
       "Yeah, we pretty much all do, and Kevin and Rick do, too. Don't think they don't. Their rule about that is we're all guys, and guys talk like guys. They make a lot of sexual jokes, too, but they have strict rules about sex," Jeff said.
       "Like what?"
       "Well, the most important sex rule is nobody does anything unless everybody involved wants to do it. No forcing anybody. Period. That would really get your ass in trouble," he said.
       "What else?"
       "Sex is private, and you don't talk about, or do, in public what you do in private. Absolutely no sex downstairs. Now, you'll see the guys grope one another and rub each other's butts and things like that, but that's just playing around. No making out downstairs, at least when Kevin and Rick are around. I've seen Kyle and Tim, and Justin and Brian making out down there when it was just them in the room," he said.
       "You can't talk about sex, though, right?"
       "Oh, you can talk about it all you want to, like if it's to get information or even just joking. No, the kind of thing I mean is you can't come to the breakfast table, say, and give all the details about what you and your boyfriend did the night before. They won't allow that. You'll catch on. It's not difficult, and the rules really do make sense. Oh, and Kevin and Rick will never, ever do anything sexual with a kid," he said. "Or with anybody but each other, for that matter."
       "I saw Brian and Justin kiss on the street in New Orleans," I said.
       "Yeah, I know. I saw that, too. Kevin and Rick didn't see it, though, or they'd have gotten on to them about it. They don't mind a little good-morning kiss or a goodbye kiss or that sort of thing. You know the kind I'm talking about that they won't allow," he said.
       I felt myself blush a little.
       "They call it the 'give-you-a-hard-on' type of kiss. They don't want that in public," Ty said.
       "I guess all of them are having sex," I said.
       "I don't think Denny is," Jeff said. "He doesn't have a boyfriend, as far as I know. His best friend is a straight guy named Chip, who's over here a lot, and I know they're not doing anything. Chip is a cute kid. He told me one time he wished he was gay so he and Denny could be boyfriends, but he's just not. We tease him all the time that it's okay to be straight."
       I laughed at how ironic that was.
       "One of the many great things about this family is that they're totally accepting of everybody, no matter who you are," Tyler said. "I mean, I felt completely at home with them the first time I came over here."
       "I used to be one of the foster sons," Jeff said. "Although I was only ever an honorary one. I still am, in fact. I can't begin to tell you how these guys helped me when I needed help the most."
       We had finished putting all my stuff away, and we were just sitting there talking.
       "Let's go down and see what's going on," Jeff said.
       I thanked him and Ty for looking out for me. I really liked those two guys a lot.
       Downstairs things were pretty bad. Denny was crying, and Justin, Brian, and Tim were trying to make him feel better. They had just found out that Denny's other best friend and debate partner, a guy named Josh, had killed himself. Kyle seemed pretty upset, too, but he wasn't crying.
       Kyle called his parents and told them what had happened. He said they were all going to school, for some reason.
       "We'll be back in a little while, Ron," Kevin said to me. "Jeff, would you and Ty mind staying here with Ron until we get back?"
       "Of course not, Kevin," Jeff said. "Ty and I are getting to like this dude." He ruffled my hair when he said that, and I liked that.
       "Okay, well, show him around the place. I don't know how long this is going to take," Kevin said.
       "It's not a problem, Bubba," Jeff said.
       Kevin smiled when he said that, and I didn't know why.
       The guys left for school, and Jeff and Ty showed me around. The house was beautiful, but it wasn't frilly at all. It looked like a place where men lived, but it was clean and well taken care of. All the furniture was very nice, but it wasn't delicate, and there wasn't anything that looked like it could be broken easily. The den was the biggest room in the house. There was a living room that didn't look like it was used very much, a dining room with a huge table, a kitchen with a breakfast room area, a laundry room, and a study room with lots of books, a desk with a computer, and a sofa and some easy chairs. Altogether, I counted five sofas downstairs.
       "This is Kevin and Rick's suite," Jeff said. "I'll show it to you, but we don't go in here very often. This is their private territory."
       Their bedroom was huge, and there was a space down at one end that had a small sofa (number six) and a couple of really comfortable-looking chairs. There were double glass doors that opened out into a little private garden that had a wall around it and lots of nice plants. There were two walk-in closets that seemed to be as big as the bedroom my brothers slept in at home. The best, though, was the bathroom. It was gigantic. There was a shower stall that had two shower heads opposite each other, a little room with the toilet in it, and a bathtub that looked big enough for three or four people. It even had a urinal.
       "I've never seen a urinal in a house before," I said.
       "I know. But think about it. You wake up in the morning having to pee, and your dick's sticking straight up. There's no way you can aim that at a toilet, is there?" Jeff said.
       "No," I said.
       "You can pee in a urinal without getting it all over the place. They had that put in after they bought the house. I think it's a brilliant idea. The wonder is that more houses don't have them," Jeff said.
       "Good point," I said. I always had trouble with that until I figured out I could pee in the shower and nobody would ever know.
       They took me out back, and I wasn't prepared for what I saw. They had a huge pool in the yard, and a really nice stone patio. The house was on some kind of body of water, and they had a dock with a boat tied up to it. The boat had Clay painted on it. The best thing, though, was a building that was out there.
       "This is the clubhouse. You'll spend a lot of time out here, and it's great for parties. They have parties all the time, Ron."
       It was a very big room that was furnished like a den or something. It had a kitchen at one end that was a separate room with a bar opening into the den area. There was a pull-down thing, kind of like a garage door, so the kitchen could be sealed off. Next to the kitchen was a full gym, with machines and free weights and everything. At the other end were locker rooms, restrooms, shower rooms, and a laundry. It had a big fireplace, three leather sofas (that made nine sofas at that place), a bunch of easy chairs, two game tables with chairs, a pool table, a folded-up ping pong table, and a dart board area. It was a guy's paradise. In fact, it was unbelievable.
       "This is great, isn't it?" Tyler asked.
       "Oh, yeah," I said.
       They both giggled at the way I said that.
       "That was the same reaction I had when I saw it the first time, Ron," Ty said. "And let me tell you something. This place is used a lot by all the friends. You'll see what I mean."
       "Are Kevin and Rick rich?" I asked.
       Jeff and Tyler looked at each other and smiled, like that was something they had talked about before.
       "By our standards, they are very rich," Ty said. "But Kevin and Rick are poor as church mice compared to Gene and Rita Goodson."
       "And to Kevin's parents, too," Jeff said. "They don't like to talk about money. It's not completely off limits, and it does come up occasionally, but they're not at all comfortable talking about it."
       "Is Kyle rich?"
       "Let's just say Kyle has everything he wants, and leave it at that. Kyle's brother was my partner before he died, Ron. His name was Clay, and he had a lot of money. I don't know how much because Clay never knew how much he had. It was all in trust funds. Kyle just started getting some money every month from his trusts when he turned eighteen, just like Clay did, but you'll never hear them talk about it," Jeff said.
       "You'll never hear Clay talk about any. . . ," Ty started to say.
       Jeff punched him a good one, and the two of them broke up laughing.
       "Let's go get something to eat," Jeff said.

(Kevin's Perspective)
       When we got home from delivering the letter to Mr. Stanton, Kyle took a shower, shaved for the first time in days, and got ready to go out.
       "Where are you going?" I asked. I didn't know of any meetings he had at school, especially in light of the day's events.
       "To church," he said.
       "Tonight?"
       "Yeah, it's Ash Wednesday," he said. "I'm going to Mass."
       "Oh," I said, not knowing how else to react.
       Kyle had been very faithful about attending class on Thursday night with George, and he had taken the business of becoming a Catholic much more seriously than I ever thought he would. I thought he was only doing it so he could be like the majority of the rest of us, but evidently something was striking his fancy.
       "I have to go to Pensacola on Sunday for Mass at the Cathedral. That's when the bishop is going to receive us as members of the Elect," he said.
       "What?" Rick asked, befuddled.
       "Yeah. It's the first Sunday of Lent, and that's when the catechumens and candidates become members of the Elect," Kyle said.
       "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Kyle," Rick said.
       "That's because you've been a Catholic all your life. You didn't have to do all of this stuff like I'm doing," he said.
       "I went to religion class, though," Rick said.
       "Well, it's the same thing, only this is all adults," Kyle said.
       "Are you going to be baptized?" Brian asked.
       "No. I've already been baptized," Kyle said. "That's why I'm a candidate and not a catechumen."
       "Oh," Brian replied. I could tell he wasn't interested in such fine distinctions.
       Kyle went to Mass by himself, and he came back with a smudge of ashes on his forehead. That brought back a ton of memories. We were always off school on Mardi Gras and the day before, but we always went back on Ash Wednesday. The first thing we did that day was march over to the church to get our ashes.
       * * *
       There wasn't anything in the newspaper the next day about Josh's suicide. On Friday, though, there was a tiny article in what might be called the Police Blotter section, and there was an obituary. There was only going to be a graveside service, with no visitation. The Reverend John Winfield was going to officiate. The funeral was going to be the next afternoon, Saturday.
       "Are you all going to Josh's funeral?" Denny asked Friday night.
       "I am," Kyle said.
       Tim, Justin, and Brian said they were going, too, and I knew Chip would be with us, as well. I really didn't feel like listening to the Reverend Winfield again, but I knew Rick and I should be there to support our son.
       "Rick and I will be there, too, Denny," I said. "Right, Babe?"
       "Right," Rick said.
       The day of the funeral was cold and damp. It rained in the morning, and, although the rain had stopped by two o'clock, when the funeral began, it was still very cloudy and grim. It would have been a good afternoon to spend in front of the fire at home in the den, but we had a duty to do.
       There were quite a few people there. The debate coach and a few other teachers were there, standing with Sally Ortega, and there was a group of kids standing with them. Denny said they were all debaters, and he went over to say hello to them.
       "Who are those other kids?" I asked Kyle.
       "They're from GSA," he said.
       "Gay-Straight Alliance?" I asked.
       "Yeah," he said.
       Josh's parents and his younger brother looked like they hadn't slept in a week, and I wondered what was going through their minds right at that moment. At least they looked mournful and not like they were glad he was gone.
       The Reverend Winfield got everybody's attention.
       "Brothers and sisters in the Lord, we are gathered together to mark the tragic passing of Joshua Stanton. I didn't know Josh personally, although I had seen him in church every week for as long as I've been pastor there. I know he was a very intelligent young man and that he was a very good student. He was active in the debate team at his high school, and many of his debate friends are here today. Josh was only fifteen when he took his own life. As tragic as that fact is, there is even greater tragedy involved.
       "Josh had recently decided to become a homosexual and had embraced that sinful and abominable lifestyle."
       "No," Josh's mother called out. Winfield ignored her.
       "The word of God, the Holy Bible, tells us that God hates homosexuals and everything they stand for. Their ways are unnatural and perverted, and God will cast them out of His presence. While there is nothing we can do for poor Josh, who has already been turned away from heaven, . . ."
       "Stop it," Mrs. Stanton called out. "Roy, do something," she said to her husband.
       Mr. Stanton stood up and approached Winfield.
       "Thank you, but I'll take over from here," Mr. Stanton said.
       Winfield looked like he didn't want to back off, but Josh's dad was a powerful presence. Winfield stepped aside.
       I had been to a few funerals, even one for one of my high school classmates who had been killed in a wreck, but I had never seen or heard of anything like what was happening.
       "Friends," Mr. Stanton said, "I don't know what the Reverend was about to say, but I can pretty much guess. There was a time when my wife and I believed his rubbish about homosexuals, but that time ended Wednesday night of this week when a boy and his father delivered Josh's farewell letter to our home. Those of you who go to Beachside High School heard it read at an assembly Wednesday afternoon, and I know many of you were moved by it.
       "I don't know Kyle Goodson, but evidently my son thought highly enough of him to ask him to be his spokesman from beyond the grave. When Kyle and his father gave me the letter, I was pleased to have it. When I read the letter, though, I was horrified.
       "I wasn't horrified that my son was a homosexual. He had told us as much, and I had over-reacted in a way I didn't know I was capable of doing. I was horrified at myself and how I had accepted the nonsense that people like Winfield had told me for so many years. I was horrified at the fact that I rejected my own flesh and blood, and drove him to this act of desperation. I was horrified at our culture that allowed me and many others to think God would ever reject one of His precious own because they were gay.
       "My wife and I, and our son Brady, are grieved beyond words at what has happened, but with God's help, and the prayers of our son before the throne of God in heaven, which is where he is right now . . ."
       He turned and stared at Winfield when he said that last part.
       "I know that in time we'll get beyond our grief. We lay our son to rest with heavy hearts but with confidence that he is with his Savior in heaven forever. My wife and I ask forgiveness of God and of all of you for our role in our son's death. Thank you for coming today to show your respect for Josh. Please join me in reciting the Lord's Prayer."
       I was, quite simply, stunned. I looked at Rick, and I knew he felt exactly as I did. Once the Lord's Prayer was over, the service was concluded. Sally Ortega walked over to us.
       "I'm weak," she said by way of greeting.
       "Me, too," I said. "I've never seen anything like that, have you? And can you believe that preacher was going to condemn their son at his own funeral?"
       "Winfield came to see me at school to get information about Josh to use in his eulogy, and we talked for a long time. I thought I had talked him out of hellfire and brimstone today, but evidently I hadn't. I also talked at great length with the Stantons. They're really hurting, guys," she said to Rick and me.
       "I'm sure they are," I said.
       "And you think they deserve to be hurting, don't you, Kevin?" she said.
       "Yeah, as a matter of fact I do, Sally. Josh had been to our house a few times to work with Denny on debate, but I really didn't know him all that well. But from everything I saw, and from what Denny says about him, he was a fine kid. One of the best, even. Maybe I'm spoiled because I had such an easy time of it, but I just can't understand how a parent could ever reject a kid, for any reason," I said.
       "I'm with you on that, Kevin. But you, of all people, should know it goes on all the time. How many do you guys have now?" she asked.
       "Just three," I said. "Three official ones, anyway."
       "And a whole houseful of unofficial ones, counting people like Kyle and Tim. Am I right?"
       "Yes, you're right. They need parenting, too," I said.
       "Exactly, Kevin. Well, I think I just felt a raindrop. Thanks for doing what you're doing. I'll see you at our next School Advisory Council meeting, if not before," she said, shaking hands.
       Mr. and Mrs. Stanton saw Kyle, and they came over to him.
       "I want to thank you for bringing that letter to us, Kyle," Mr. Stanton said. "I have thought of nothing else since I read it Wednesday night. You heard what I said a few minutes ago. Josh must have thought a great deal of you, son."
       "He was my brother Denny's debate partner," Kyle said. "They were best friends, and Denny was really upset about it. So was Chip Rooney, their other friend."
       "I know. I talked to Mrs. Ortega for a long time about homosexuality and my son, Kyle, and that woman turned my head around. I'll be forever grateful to her for that. I just wish she had gotten to me earlier. She said you gave a very moving speech about tolerance at the assembly they had at school. Thank you for that, Kyle," he said.
       "You're welcome," Kyle said. "Oh, do you know Kevin Foley and Rick Mashburn? They're foster parents to gay kids, and I'm one of theirs."
       "But wasn't that your dad you were with the other afternoon?" Mr. Stanton asked, after they shook hands.
       "Yes, sir. I'm only an honorary foster son, or brother, or something. I'm eighteen. We just brought a new boy back with us from New Orleans. We were there for Mardi Gras this week at Kevin's parents' house," Kyle said.
       "I can imagine what Winfield would say about that. I want all of you to know we won't be going back to the Emerald Beach Fellowship after this display this afternoon," Mr. Stanton said.
       "Yes, sir," Kyle said.
       It had started drizzling again.
       "I'll let you fellows go, but I didn't want to leave here without speaking to you, Kyle. Thank you, son."
       Back at home, we all assembled in the den. Jeff and Ty were there, and we made a big fire. Kyle made up some of his famous treats for us to snack on, and we sat around talking.
       "I told Dr. Foley I was thinking about killing myself," Ron said, more or less out of the blue. "I think that's why she wanted me to come here. But I'm not going to, so don't worry."
       "I thought about it a lot before I came here, too, but I didn't know how to do it," Denny said. "I didn't have a gun or anything."
       "Suicide is a very serious problem among gay boys," I said. "If any of you ever have thoughts of that, you talk to one of us immediately. I want you to promise me that."
       They all said they promised.
       "And if anybody ever tells you they're thinking about it, you tell somebody, some adult you trust, even if you promised you wouldn't tell. That's not the kind of promise you're allowed to make," I said.
       "What would you do, Kevin?" Justin asked.
       "I'd get him to a counselor immediately," I said. "And I wouldn't leave him alone, even for a few minutes, until I did. A lot of times people threaten suicide for attention, but if they need attention that badly, then you have to take them seriously."
       "Changing the subject, but who wants to go to Pensacola tomorrow with me?" Kyle asked.
       "For what?" Justin asked.
       Kyle explained about becoming one of the Elect at the Cathedral. They all said they wanted to go, so the next morning we packed up the Suburban, and off we went. I had never been to anything like that before. It was a pontifical high mass with the bishop presiding, and the Rite of Election was quite moving. I was amazed at how many catechumens and candidates there were, and Kyle was very proud to be among them.
       "Did you ever think this would happen with The Smoker?" Rick asked during the ceremony when Kyle was up there with the bishop.
       I chuckled. "No. I basically thought he was a con artist when I first met him," I said. "Tim seemed so vulnerable then, and Kyle seemed so worldly, almost like a gang member or something."
       "I know. Me, too. I don't think we should ever judge these boys on first impressions," Rick said.
       "How many lives has Kyle saved?" I asked.
       "I don't know, and I don't want to take the time to count them up right now. It's been a lot, though. The Alpha Male. He minds his pack pretty good, doesn't he?" Rick said.
       "Yes, he does, and that bishop doesn't even have a clue what he's dealing with. But we know, and our boys know."
       "Yeah," Rick said.
       * * *
       George and Sonya got back from their honeymoon in Europe tired but ecstatic. They were very much in love, and it was cute. We had them over for dinner a few days after their return.
       "We've been talking about building a house," George said. "What do you think, son?"
       Tim looked a little surprised.
       "I think it's a great idea. Where?" Tim said.
       "Here on the beach somewhere. I don't know if we can afford waterfront, but that's what we'd like," George said.
       "Did you talk to my dad about that, Doc?" Kyle asked.
       "Gene and I have talked about it in general terms before, Kyle," he said, "and he said he has several bay-front lots he's been holding on to."
       "I think one of them has my name on it," Kyle said.
       "Yes. One does, indeed, Kyle. Do you think you and Tim could be happy having us as next door neighbors some day?" George asked.
       "I don't see why not," Kyle said.
       "No naked swimming, Kyle," Rick said.
       "We could put up fences," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, do you think for one minute I'd be bothered in any way by seeing my two sons naked?" Sonya asked.
       "No, ma'am," Kyle said, grinning at Sonya. She was grinning at him, too.
       "What about the rest of us?" Denny asked, sounding worried.
       "Guys, we're talking years down the road here," I said. "Besides, I happen to know Gene has lots all over the place, and they're not necessarily side by side."
       "Do you know which lot has your name on it, Kyle?" Sonya asked.
       "Yes, ma'am. He saved two, side by side, one for me and one for Clay. They're lots my grandparents had from a long time ago. They're beautiful pieces of property, with some very big oak trees on them," Kyle said.
       "Maybe he'll give you both of them," Tim said.
       "Maybe, but I know better than to ask for both. Everybody thinks my parents spoiled me rotten, and they did. But my dad would think I was being greedy if I asked for both lots, and I would be. I'll just have to take what he gives me, and I know it'll be nice," Kyle said.
       "Your father and I have talked about that, Kyle. He told me you never ask for anything. He also said he doesn't give you an allowance," Doc said.
       "I sort of get an allowance now. Since I turned eighteen," Kyle said. "Let's change the subject. This is making me nervous," he said.
       "Yeah, let's change the subject," Rick said.
       Kyle always got uncomfortable when the subject turned to money. He was rich, and he knew it. We all knew it. His two best friends, Justin and Brian, didn't own a pot to piss in, and we all knew that, too. Rick and I knew that those two boys would never want for anything, as long as Kyle was capable of signing his name, and we thought it showed a lot of breeding and character that he basically refused to talk about money.
       George told Kyle he was sorry he wasn't here for the Rite of Election at the Cathedral the week before, and he guaranteed Kyle he'd be at every one of the Scrutinies.
       "What's a Scrutiny?" Justin asked.
       "It's a special set of prayers at Mass for the Elect," Kyle said. "That's me. One of the Elect."
       "Shouldn't that be 'Elected'?" Brian asked.
       "No. They say 'Elect,' not 'Elected,'" Kyle said. "I don't know why. That's just what they say."
       George launched into a theological discussion of the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. Sonya hung on every word, and everybody else listened with polite incomprehension. That was George. He was our friend, and we loved him, but sometimes the man got carried away. That evening was one of those times.

Chapter 8

(George's Perspective)
       My marriage to Sonya was the best thing I ever did in my life, next to raising my son. I loved her completely, and we fit together perfectly. Tim and Kyle were mature enough to understand that we wanted and needed privacy, so they made themselves scarce for a few weeks after we returned from our honeymoon. I loved my son, and Kyle, my second son, and I wanted to see them. They came over occasionally, especially for dinner, but they gave us space, and I appreciated that. I thought of them as adults, and they acted the part.
       Sonya and I had an unbelievably good time on our honeymoon. I thought of Tim often, but I was glad he wasn't there. That made me feel a bit guilty, sometimes, especially when Sonya would say things like, "Oh, I wish the boys could see this," or "Tim and Kyle would love this." Both of them had been all over Europe, though, so it wasn't like they had been deprived. I knew they'd see it again together some day.
       If you ever want to take a cheap vacation, make friends with a man who owns hotels. My buddy Gene had fixed us up with some unbelievably low rates at hotels. Paying twenty dollars a night for nice rooms in big-name hotels was unheard of, but that's what we paid. I would have cheerfully paid the $200-plus the rooms usually went for, but we only paid a fraction of that much.
       It was Lent when we returned to the country from Europe, and that meant Kyle's instruction in becoming a Catholic went into high gear, both for him and for me. The weekly Thursday night sessions were supplemented by Sunday-afternoon activities, and he seemed to get more and more reflective because of his impending commitment.
       "Doc, do you think that boy we knew who committed suicide went to hell?" he asked when we were driving home one Sunday afternoon from one of those activities.
       "Of course not," I said. "Why would you ask that question, son?"
       "His preacher said he did. Suicide is against the Ten Commandments, isn't it?"
       "That's the traditional teaching, yes. It's essentially self-murder according to that line of thinking, but I think now a-days people think of suicide as more of a mental health issue than a moral one for the person who commits suicide," I said.
       "Do you think he might have been real depressed?"
       "I have no doubt that he was, Kyle. He certainly felt worthless and unwanted. I'm sure he felt as though he had let down everybody who had faith in him," I said.
       "His friends didn't think he was worthless and unwanted," Kyle said.
       "I know, and that's the terrible tragedy. He wasn't able to see things as they really were. He thought things were far worse. If his parents had done what to me is the unthinkable and really put him out, couldn't he have found a place to live with Kevin and Rick?"
       "Yeah, that's just it. He knew Denny, and he'd been to our house, even. He knew what was going on there. He should have known he would have been welcome," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, I want to return to the moral aspects of suicide. I said it isn't thought of as a moral issue anymore, but I want to clarify that. I think it is a very serious moral issue that we allow situations to occur like the one Josh was in. Society caused his death by making him think he was of no value because he was gay. That's where the moral evil lies, in my opinion. Nobody noticed how badly he was hurting, or, if they noticed, nobody cared. In a sense, it was a kind of group murder, not self-murder," I said.
       "I see what you mean. Have you ever been disappointed that Tim is gay?" he asked.
       He could have gone a very long time without asking that question. Was I disappointed that Tim was gay? Yes. Was I disappointed in Tim because he was gay? No. Definitely not.
       "Why did you ask that question?" I asked.
       "Well, if I was a parent, I think I would be disappointed that my only son was gay. I wouldn't be disappointed in my son because he was gay, though. Do you see the difference?" he asked.
       "Kyle, you're incredible. That's exactly what I was thinking, but I was afraid you wouldn't see the distinction if I said that. I think every parent has the expectation that his son will one day meet a girl, fall in love, get married, and produce grandchildren. I was disappointed at first that the scenario I had outlined for my son wouldn't happen exactly the way I had imagined it. I knew Tim couldn't help being gay, any more than I could help being straight, so being disappointed in him for something he couldn't control would have been irrational," I said.
       "I wish more people thought like that," he said.
       "Your parents aren't disappointed in you for being gay," I said.
       "Oh, I know. They got the double whammy with two of us being gay, though, didn't they?"
       I laughed.
       "Do you know who Prince William and Prince Harry are?" I asked.
       "No, sir," he said.
       "They're the two sons of Prince Charles, who is going to be the next king of England," I said.
       "Oh, yeah. I know who they are. Are they both gay?"
       I chuckled because he seemed so eager for them to be.
       "No. At least, I don't know. The point I was going to make, though, is that Charles was expected to produce an heir and a spare. What you said about you and your brother reminded me of that," I said.
       "Huh?"
       "Never mind, Kyle. It was a misguided attempt at humor," I said.
       "That makes me the spare," he said. He had shifted from the serious matters we had been discussing, and now he wanted fun. "It turns out the spare is flat, too. Just like it always is in real life when you need a spare tire."
       I laughed.
       "I wouldn't exactly compare you to a tire," I said.
       "I know. I think of myself more as a piston," he said.
       He was being naughty, but he knew he was also being cute. I laughed when he said that.
       "Maybe we ought to change the subject," he said.
       "That might be a good idea," I said around my laughter.
       What a kid, I thought, and how lucky Tim is to have him! We were pulling into Kevin and Rick's driveway then, anyway.
       "Doc, thanks for taking me and thanks for talking to me. I love you," he said.
       That touched my heart.
       "I love you, too, Kyle," I said.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       When Doc dropped me off, I went into the den and nobody was around. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. They must all be taking naps, I thought.
       I went up to our room and quietly opened the door. Sure enough, Tim was in bed asleep on his side. I wasn't really sleepy, but I got undressed and got in with him. Feeling his warm body against mine was so good, and I got a hard-on in about ten seconds. We had made love just that morning so I shouldn't have been horny, but I was. That was the effect he had on me and I had on him, too.
       "That better be who I want it to be," he said. I must have woke him up.
       "Oh, yeah? Who do you want it to be?"
       "Oh, it's just you," he said.
       "You little shitass," I said, laughing. "Do you feel that? That's what you did to me." I was poking him with my dick.
       He turned on his back, and we kissed. It started off soft and gentle, like we were just saying hello or something, but it got more intense pretty quick. Before I knew it, I was on his neck. Then I was on his chest, sucking those little nipples of his, nipping at 'em gently with my teeth. He was moaning.
       I followed the familiar trail down his body. Then I got on top of him with my head at his crotch. He took my dick into his mouth and started playing with it with his tongue. He went after my balls, too, and my ass. I was doing the same thing to him. I got more and more eager, and he did, too. Pretty soon, I couldn't help it. I came, and he caught every bit of it in his mouth. Then I felt him get a little bigger and a little harder in my mouth, and he came, too. I sucked up every drop he gave me.
       "I love it when it's spontaneous like that," Tim said.
       "I know. Me, too."
       "Was your activity good?" he asked.
       "Yeah, but it was a little bit grim," I said.
       "What did you do?"
       "We visited a nursing home and talked to the old people there," I said. "Some of them didn't have any teeth, and some of them looked like they were asleep in their wheelchairs. This one old guy thought I was his grandson. He kept calling me Junnie."
       "I guess that must be short for Junior," Tim said.
       "I guess. I didn't ask him. He wanted me to kiss him," I said.
       "Did you?"
       "Yeah, but not on the lips. Just on his forehead," I said.
       "Did he have teeth?"
       "Yeah, but they were false, and they were loose, too," I said. "I had a good talk with your dad on the way home."
       "Oh, yeah? What did you guys talk about? Those old people?"
       "A lot of things, but mostly about Josh and suicide."
       "That really hit you hard, didn't it, Babe?"
       "Yeah. I can't stop thinking about it. I mean, I don't think about it all the time, but it keeps coming back to mind," I said. "I still can't figure out why he chose me to get his letter."
       "We've been through that several times, Babe," Tim said.
       "Are you getting impatient with me?"
       "No. Shut up. Kyle, he chose you because you're gay and you're the leader of the school. He wanted somebody that other people would take seriously, gay and straight, adults and kids. That's why he chose you, Babe," Tim said.
       "Well, he didn't do me a favor, that's for sure. His parents asked me to talk to his brother. Evidently, the brother is having a real hard time with it," I said.
       "Kind of like some other younger brother, when his big brother died?"
       "I'm still not over that either, Tim. I think about Clay every day," I said.
       "I know you do, Babe. But they're good thoughts, aren't they? About when you guys were kids?"
       "Yeah. At least he didn't kill himself," I said.
       * * *
       The next day I got called to the Guidance Office during second period. That was my individual sports class. I asked the girl if I should put on clothes, meaning my school clothes and not my P.E. uniform, and she laughed. I was on the phone in the coaches' office.
       "Are you naked?" she asked.
       I knew her. She had been in Clay's class, and he and she had been friends. She loved to tease me.
       "No, I'm not naked, but I'm in gym shorts and a tee shirt," I said, laughing.
       "Oh. I never have any luck. No, go ahead and shower and put on your school clothes. This might take a while," she said.
       "Can I have a hint what this is about?"
       "Do you know Brady Stanton?" she asked.
       "Josh's little brother?"
       "Yeah. His dad is bringing him here from middle school to talk to you. Were you expecting this?" she asked.
       "Yeah, but I didn't know when. I'll be there in twenty minutes, okay?"
       "Take your time, Kyle," she said, real seductive.
       I laughed, and she laughed, too. It was people like her that made school bearable.
       I told the teacher what was up.
       "I know," he said.
       "How did you know that?" I asked.
       He was from an old-line Emerald Beach family, and I had known him my whole damn life. He was in his first year of teaching, which meant he was about twenty-two or twenty-three, and he was totally cool. His name was Lavelle Hardwick. Half the time I forgot and called him Lavelle, and the other half I called him Mr. Hardwick, emphasizing the "hard" part of his name. That wasn't lost on him, either. Just about every class he and I ended up laughing our asses off together.
       "Because I know everything about you, Kyle. Everything," he said. He was half-laughing, and so was I.
       "You don't know everything about me," I said.
       We were two Beach Rats talking to each other, so we knew the language to use.
       "I know what's under your bed," he said.
       "You do not, asshole," I said.
       "Asshole? That's rank insubordination, Kyle. I hate to do it, but I reckon I'll have to get you expelled from school," he said, laughing.
       "What do you think is under my bed?" I asked, ignoring his threat, which was a joke, anyway.
       "The floor, jerk-off. What the hell do you think is under your bed?"
       "Lavelle, that was pretty sad, son," I said. We were both laughing, though.
       "I know. Get your ass in that shower and hurry up. No jerking off, you hear me?"
       "Yes, sir," I said. "But you know, Lavelle, being this close to you has got me pretty hot."
       He laughed hard.
       "Get your ass in that shower before I have to whip it. Mr. Gene signed all the paperwork I need to wear your damn ass out, anytime I need to," he said.
       "But Mr. Hardwick, sir, I have a boyfriend," I said.
       "Goddamn it, Kyle. I knew I couldn't get the best of you. I don't even know why I try," he said, and we both laughed hard.
       I did hurry up in the shower, though. I said a few prayers in there, too, that I would know what to say to Brady. I had learned about the Holy Spirit in RCIA, and I needed Him bad then. I figured it was okay to pray when you were naked, but we hadn't really covered that.
       Brady was a really nice-looking little kid. He must have been about thirteen, maybe fourteen. I had seen him at the funeral, but I hadn't been paying much attention to him.
       "Hey, Brady. What's up, dude?" I asked when we went into the little room they had for us to use in the Guidance Office.
       "I don't know, Kyle. I don't know anything anymore since Josh is gone," he said. "He was more than my brother, Kyle. He was my best friend."
       Oh, man, I thought. He and I talked for a long, long time. He talked about when they were little and Josh used to show him how to do things, like ride a bike and tie knots and fish and crab and ski and shit. It was absolutely all big brother-little brother stuff, and Clay and I had done every damn bit of it. I told him about my brother and how much I loved him. There was a computer in the room, and we even went on line so he could see some pictures of Clay and me together. We hugged each other and cried and laughed some, too, about stuff we had done with our brothers.
       "Brady, my brother was gay, and so am I," I said, "just like Josh was."
       "I know, Kyle. Josh talked about you a lot. About you and Denny and all the other boys. I knew Josh was gay, and he knew I am, too," he said.
       Whoa! You could have pushed me over with a feather. It was too damn eerie for words. Clay and Josh. Gay. Dead. Kyle and Brady. Gay. Alive. I liked the kid from the first minute we sat down to talk, but there we were. The spares, and both flat. I didn't say anything for a few minutes.
       "Did I just shock you, Kyle?"
       "No, you didn't shock me. I think the coincidence of it all did, though. I mean how many sets of gay brothers can there be in Emerald Beach?" I asked.
       "Probably not too many," he said.
       "And us both with a dead one," I said. "Brady, you need to join our family, dude. How old are you?"
       "I'm thirteen, but I'll be fourteen in two weeks," he said.
       "I want you to come to lunch with me today, and I want you to meet everybody. When is your dad picking you up?" I asked.
       "When I call him," he said.
       "Cool. You're fixing to meet a pack of boys, and almost every one of them is gay. There are three or four straight boys who eat lunch with us, but you're not going to be able to tell the straight from the gay in most cases. We've got a couple of friends who are kind of 'gay,' but we're all just ordinary guys. We eat in the restaurant of the Starfish Motel, and the food is wonderful. Do you have any money?"
       "Maybe a couple of dollars," he said.
       I reached in my wallet and gave him a ten spot.
       "Here. You're going to need this."
       "Thanks."
       "Brady, I'm taking you under my wing, dude, whether you need it or not. But I suspect you need it right about now. My partner is Tim Murphy, and we're in it for life. Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked.
       He blushed.
       "No," he said.
       "That's cool, dude. You know Denny, don't you? He was Josh's debate partner and best friend," I said.
       "Of course I know Denny. I think Josh was in love with Denny," he said.
       "Well, please don't say that to Denny or the others, okay? Denny knew Josh wanted to be his boyfriend, but Denny was only interested in being Josh's friend. Denny thought he was responsible for what Josh did, and he was very upset about that. He's still upset about it," I said.
       "My parents are responsible, Kyle, not Denny. And that's why I hate them," he said.
       "Let's talk about that another time, okay? The bell just rang for lunch, and we need to haul ass, Bubba," I said.
       "Okay," he said, and we got out of there.
       * * *
       God Almighty! What the hell was I doing? What the hell were they making me do? I wasn't a fucking guidance counselor. I was just a kid. There I was, trying to work that poor kid through so much shit. I was probably doing more harm than good. All in the world I knew how to do was to be his friend. We had a hell of a lot in common, that's for sure, but that didn't make me a counselor.
       Everybody was at the Starfish that day. We needed the two big tables, and Mom and Pop Sullivan knew to save them for us. Our bunch was there every day. We had started out there with one table, but gradually it had increased to the point that we couldn't all get at one table anymore. So now we had two.
       That was a motley crew, if ever there was one. Me, Tim, Brian, Denny, Philip, Ryan, Chad, Gage, Chip, Morgan, Blake, Riley, Ron, and now Brady.
       Of course my boys acted like they had all known Brady all his life. That was what was so cool about them. They never met a stranger. I could tell Brady was really liking having lunch with the big boys, too. And that little sucker could eat! I was sure he didn't get enough food if all he ate was the school cafeteria lunch.
       "We come here for lunch every day," I said. "Next year, when you're a freshman, you can come, too. Josh came with us a time or two."
       "I know he did. I already know who all of y'all are from what he said about you," Brady said.
       "There's another person I want you to meet, too. Three more, really. Justin Davis is my best friend, him and Philip, and he's Brian's boyfriend. You'll love Justin. He's the funniest guy I've ever known. The other two are Jeff Martin and Tyler Jones. They're boyfriends, too. Those three guys aren't in high school," I said.
       "What do they do?"
       "Justin goes to ECCC and Jeff goes to FSU-Emerald Beach. They also both work at a hotel. Tyler is in the Coast Guard," I said.
       "Cool," he said.
       "Jeff was my brother's old partner before Clay died, and Jeff and I are as close as brothers. He and I are the ones who keep up that Web page I showed you," I said.
       "I'd like to do a memory page for Josh like the one y'all have for Clay," he said.
       "Let's talk to Jeff about it. He knows all about setting one of those things up," I said. "It would be a great idea to have one."
       During the rest of lunch we talked about regular things, like what was going on at school, different NBA teams we liked, whether Emerald Beach might get a minor league baseball team. Just ordinary stuff.
       When we got in the car to go back to school, I handed Brady my cell phone for him to call his dad.
       "Look in the glove compartment. There's a little pad and a pencil in there. Write down your name and phone number on a slip of paper," I said.
       He did and gave the paper to me. I put it in my pocket.
       "Now, let me give you some numbers."
       I gave him the house number for Kevin and Rick, my cell number, and Tim's cell number.
       "Now you call us whenever you need to or when you just want to talk, you hear?"
       "Yes, sir," he said. I always got a kick out of it when little kids said "sir" to me, and a good many of the freshmen did that.
       "Do you want to hang out with us Friday night? Maybe sleep over?"
       "Oh, that would be great," he said. "I'm pretty sure my parents will let me. They're sort of worried about me being depressed a lot."
       "If you don't stop being depressed pretty soon, we'll look into that, too," I said.
       First I become a guidance counselor, and then I become a doctor. Next thing you know, I'll be fixing people's teeth.
       * * *
       Brady's dad dropped him off at Kevin and Rick's house around five o'clock Friday night. Mr. Stanton came inside to talk for a few minutes. It was just Kevin, Rick, him, and me in the living room. Brian and Tim were showing Brady the puppy in the den. Justin wasn't home yet, and I didn't know where Denny and Ron were.
       "I really appreciate you all letting Brady come over here tonight. He and Josh were so close that his world has more or less shut down," Mr. Stanton said.
       "We're glad to have him," Kevin said. "It won't be anything fancy, though. We'll probably order pizza."
       "I rented a couple of DVD's," I said. "Both PG-13. Is that all right?"
       "Oh, yeah, that's fine. Kyle, I want to thank you for talking to Brady at school Wednesday. He told me you had a brother who died," he said.
       "Yes, sir. About a year and a half ago. He had a reaction to some medicine they gave him at the campus health center for a headache," I said. "It was kind of a freak medical accident."
       "I'm sorry. Were you and your brother close?"
       "Yes, sir. We were best friends, I guess you'd say. Kind of like Josh and Brady," I said.
       "They're only a year apart," he said, "and they do everything together."
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       "Well, I need to get going. Brady knows to call me when y'all have had enough of him," he said.
       "Or one of us can drop him off at home," Rick said. "We'll work something out."
       "We usually go to church on Saturday night and then out to eat with some friends. Would it be all right if Brady goes with us?" Kevin asked.
       "Sure. What church?"
       "Catholic. St. Joseph's," I said. "I'm studying to be a Catholic right now, and I'll become one at Easter in a few weeks."
       "My wife and I are looking for a new church. We hadn't considered that one, though. Maybe we should look into it," he said.
       "You'd be more than welcome," Kevin said.
       He shook hands with everybody and left.
       "I'm afraid it's going to take me a while to feel good about that man," Kevin said. "He seems like a nice guy, though."
       "Brady hates his parents," I said.
       "Because of Josh?" Rick asked.
       "Yeah."
       "Did he tell you that when you guys were talking?" Kevin asked.
       "Yeah."
       "Kyle, son, sit down. Rick and I want to talk to you," Kevin said.
       Rick had a look on his face like he didn't know what the hell Kevin was talking about.
       "A lot has been dumped on you because of Josh. It's probably not fair, but that's just the way it is. And that's going to keep on happening to you, probably for the rest of your life. That's just the kind of personality you have. Rick and I won't say anything about Brady hating his parents, so don't worry about that. But I'm sure he told you other very personal things when you two were talking, and you can't tell anybody that, okay?"
       "You mean kind of like confidentiality?" I asked.
       "Exactly. If he says it in a group, that's one thing, but if he says it to you in private, it should stay confidential. Now if he ever talks about hurting himself or that he's thinking about suicide, you get on the phone to one of us right away. Or your parents or George Murphy or Sally Ortega or somebody like that. Jerry Taylor. You know what I mean. And don't leave him by himself until one of us gets there, okay?" Kevin said.
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       I thought about what Brady had said about being depressed.
       "What about depression?" I asked.
       "He's bound to be depressed about his brother, but if that keeps up for more than a couple of weeks, you tell us about that, too. We saw what Jeff went through, and we don't want to let that go too long with Brady," Kevin said.
       "I don't want that to happen, either," I said.
       "Well, let's go see what the others are doing," Kevin said. We were in the living room, and the rest of them were in the den.
       We had a good ole time Friday night. We got pizzas and watched the two movies I had rented. One was an action-adventure and the other one was a comedy. They were both pretty good. As usual with us, there were a lot of jokes and wisecracks and the average amount of cussing, like always.
       Brady was quiet at first. He loosened up, though, when Brian jumped on Justin and started wrestling him because Justin threatened to take Krewe out and feed her to the crabs if she didn't leave him alone.
       "I'll feed you to the crabs," Brian said.
       "Yeah? Who? You and Krewe?" Justin asked.
       "Me, Krewe, and Trixie," Brian said.
       Justin started tickling Brian, and the two dogs were all over them. The difference was, Trixie was trying to tickle Justin with her nose. I stopped the movie while that was going on. Everybody was for Brian, of course, and we were all shouting out encouragement to him.
       "I guess I know where I stand with this crowd," Jus said.
       "That's right, Bubba," I said. "You mess with his dogs, and that boy will rip you a new asshole," I said.
       Brady thought that was the funniest damn thing he had ever heard, apparently. He laughed his nuts off.
       That was the kind of thing we did that night. Nothing special. After that little tussle, Brady was throwing out wisecracks and jokes just like the rest of us. I had seen Jeff in similar situations when he was really depressed, and Jeff never acted like that boy did that night. I figured the depression was only temporary.
       * * *
       We had tons of places for Brady to sleep, but he really wanted to sleep with me and Tim. I had my doubts about that. I mean, we had slept with other boys before, that was for sure, but they were usually people we knew better than we knew Brady.
       "Let him sleep with us if he wants to, Kyle," Tim said. "He's not very big."
       "I guess that'll be all right," I said.
       There wasn't any good reason he shouldn't, but there also wasn't any good reason he should. I just didn't feel good about it.
       Tim and I always sleep naked, but we both kept our briefs on that night. He got in bed next to me on my side.
       "I had a great time tonight," he started off.
       "Good. We all did, too," I said.
       "Thanks for having me," he said.
       "No problem, buddy," I said. Go to sleep, I thought.
       "Kyle, how did you know you were gay?" he asked.
       "I don't know, exactly. I just wasn't interested in girls, but I was interested in boys," I said. "I did some reading about it, and I took one of those on-line tests. Everything pointed to me being gay."
       "Did it make you sad?"
       "It scared me more than it made me sad. I wanted to talk about it, but I didn't have anybody to talk to. I tried talking to my brother, who later turned out to be gay, too, but he said he thought I'd get over it," I said.
       "He didn't tell you he was gay when you said that to him?" he asked.
       "No, not a word," I said.
       "Do you need somebody to talk to about being gay, Brady?" Tim asked.
       "Yes," Brady said, kind of sad like. "I don't want to say anything to my parents just yet."
       All of a sudden it dawned on me what was going on. I felt like a total jerk and asshole. He had wanted to sleep with us so we could talk, and all I wanted was for him to shut up and go to sleep. A fine friend I was being.
       "How did you know you were gay?" I asked him.
       "I was using Josh's computer one time, and I opened his browser to do some research. I checked out his 'Favorites,' and he had bookmarked a bunch of gay sites. I started looking at them, and the pictures got to me," he said.
       "Did you get hard?" I asked.
       "Yes," he said, in that pitiful little voice.
       "Did you jerk off?" I asked.
       "No. I didn't have a chance to," he said. "I just shot without doing anything."
       "That's happened to both of us before," Tim said. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."
       "I know, but it was embarrassing. After that happened, I started thinking about all the times I got aroused, and it was always when I was looking at or thinking about a cute boy. Never any girls," he said. "Then I decided to do an experiment. I got up from the computer for about a half hour to calm down. I took a shower, in fact, and I even jerked off in the shower thinking about those pictures. After a while, I went back on line and found some porno of girls. I figured they would turn me on, but they didn't. I did that two or three times, and nothing ever happened to me with the girls."
       "Did you talk to Josh about it?" I asked.
       "Not right away. I did a lot of reading about homosexuality. About a week later he was in his room just reading, and I went in there. I told him I had found some gay Web sites and that I was scared I was gay," he said. "He asked me if I could keep a secret, and I said I could. Then he told me he was scared that he was gay, too.
       "We both cried a lot that night. I think it was a mixture of being scared that we were gay and being happy that each of us wasn't the only one. He said he wanted to talk to our dad about it. Our dad was somebody we thought was perfect, and we both thought we could talk to him about anything. Well, you know what happened when Josh told him."
       "That's pretty freaky," I said. "Was Josh real depressed about being gay?"
       "I guess he was, and I didn't know it. Josh wanted more than anything in the world to please my parents, and when Dad was so ugly about it, I know Josh thought he had displeased him more than anything ever could. He waited a few days, and during that time my dad treated him like scum. He had never been mean to us before, but he sure was mean and ugly to Josh."
       "What about your mom?" Tim asked.
       "She wasn't as mean as my dad, but she didn't take up for Josh or try to get Dad to stop treating him that way. She thought being gay was the worst sin there was, worse than probably murder, even. They have a friend who is a minister in Tallahassee, and he came to see Josh. He told Josh he had sinned and that he was going to hell. How can it be a sin just to be who you are?"
       "It's not a sin to be gay," I said. "I've been studying to become a Catholic, and I've read some religious stuff about that. Homosexuality is just a fact. You didn't chose to be gay, any more than I did. We just are. If anybody's to blame for it, it's God. He's the one who made us gay. At least that's what I believe. God is all good; He can't do bad things or commit sins. If it's a sin to be gay, then it would have to be a sin to make somebody gay. God can't commit sin, so it can't be a sin to be gay."
       "I never thought about it like that before," Brady said.
       "You need to talk to our priest about it, buddy," I said.
       "I'd like to," he said.
       "Let's all think about it right now and talk about it some more tomorrow, okay?" I said. I yawned big, and I was just about asleep.
       "Okay. Good night, Kyle. Good night, Tim," Brady said.
       We told him good night, too, and I went to sleep.
       * * *
       The next morning we hung around in our underwear like we did every weekend morning, talking, reading the paper, playing with the dogs, and everything. Ron and Denny had started paling around a good bit, and they asked Rick if he would take them to the big bookstore at the outlet center. After we ate breakfast, the three of them got dressed and went shopping.
       "What do you want to do today?" Justin asked the rest of us.
       Kevin said he had to go in to the office for a few hours that morning.
       "Let's take the dogs to the island," Brian suggested.
       "That sounds good to me," I said. "I need to get some gas for the boat. Take a ride with me, Brady."
       Brady and I went to a convenience store to buy the gas. While we were gone, we talked about what we had talked about the night before.
       "Do you really want to talk to our priest?" I asked.
       "Yes, I would like to. Do you think he'll be willing to talk to me?"
       "Oh, yeah. He's a friend of ours, as well as being our priest," I said.
       "Is he gay-friendly?" he asked.
       "Very," I said. "As a matter of fact, he's gay. He came out to all of us at a party one time. His brother is gay, too, and he's another friend of ours."
       "He's a preacher and he's gay?" Brady asked, all surprised.
       "Yeah. He doesn't have sex, though, or a boyfriend or anything. He made a vow when he became a priest not to do that," I said.
       "I had heard priests couldn't get married," he said.
       "That's right, and no sex of any kind," I said. "You really got to want to be a priest bad to agree to that."
       "What about masturbation?" he asked.
       "Now, I don't know about that. I mean, I don't think that's really sex, like what you do with another guy, so he probably does that," I said.
       "You and Tim didn't have sex last night, did you?" he said.
       "No. You were right there. This morning, either," I said.
       "Did you want to?"
       "Let's put it this way, if you hadn't been sleeping with us, I feel sure we would have done something, either last night or this morning or both," I said.
       "I'm sorry you couldn't do it because of me," he said. "I feel kind of bad."
       "No way, dude. You can't feel bad about that. That's not the first time another guy has slept with us and we've held off. We love each other, and we love sex, but we don't have to do it all the time, you know?"
       "Sex is still pretty much a mystery to me," he said. "I mean, I want to do it, but I'm sort of scared of it, too."
       "That's the most natural feeling in the world, Brady. But let me tell you something. When you get you a boyfriend, and that stud is holding you and kissing you, you'll want to do it. Don't worry," I said.
       "Kyle, I wish you didn't already have a boyfriend," he said.
       I chuckled. Another one with a crush, I thought.
       "Well, I do, and we're in love. And one of these days, if you're lucky, you'll find somebody to love, too."
       "I hope so," he said.

Chapter 9

(Tim's Perspective)
       We had a great day on Saturday at the island. That was really the first time Krewe had been outside for any length of time. Brian was real strict about taking her out only to do her business, and so far it had worked perfectly. She hadn't yet had an accident in the house, and that's the way I knew Brian wanted to keep it. He had already taught her some basic commands, such as "here" and "down" and "no." She still licked, though, and Kyle hated that worse than anything. Just about everything Kyle did or said delighted me, and I thought the way he carried on about the licking was hilarious.
       Krewe was a retriever, of course, and Brian tested her instincts with little sticks. He'd throw one out and say "fetch." Trixie was sitting down on the beach right next to Brian, and every time he did that she stood up, like she was raring to go after it. He would say, "No, Trix," and she wouldn't go. It was hard for her, though. He let her go after it every now and then, and, when she brought it back, you could tell she was as happy as she could be.
       Krewe caught on pretty fast, and she was bringing the sticks back in no time.
       "You got this one trained already?" Justin asked.
       "No, Buddy. This is just instinct she's acting on. She's doing what Trixie does and what her own instincts are telling her to do," Brian said.
       "You love her, don't you, Little Buddy?" Justin asked.
       "Trixie?" Bri asked.
       "No, not her. There ain't a doubt in my mind you love Trixie. I mean Krewe," Jus said.
       "Well, yeah, I love her," Bri said.
       "Don't get too attached. She's staying here, you know," Jus said.
       "I'm not, and I know she's staying. Mind your own business," Brian said playfully.
       "Mind my own business? Like everything about you ain't my business?"
       Brian looked at Justin like he was seeing him in a whole new light.
       "You really care, don't you? You don't want me hurting," Brian said.
       "That's exactly right, because if you're hurting, I'm hurting," Jus said.
       Brian was grinning at Justin, but he also had big tears in his eyes. It was like they had just had a break-through to a new level of intimacy and love. I walked away because that was a very personal moment between those two, a moment not to be shared with anyone but each other.
       Kyle was talking with Brady when I walked up to them.
       "He's going to talk to Jerry tonight after Mass," Kyle said.
       "Oh, he's a great guy, Brady," I said. "You'll really like him, and he is so cool."
       "I told him Jerry's gay," Kyle said.
       "Er, Kyle, isn't that, like, outing Jerry?" I asked.
       "He told us all in public at one of the parties. Remember? It's public knowledge among us. But I did something bad last night, and I want to apologize for that to you, Brady. I outed you to Tim when we were talking in bed. I didn't even realize until just now what I did. You're going to have to bear with me on that, Bubba. I didn't do it on purpose," Kyle said.
       "Oh, that was okay, Kyle. We couldn't talk about what I wanted to talk about and me stay in the closet, now could we?" Brady said.
       "Well, not hardly," Kyle said.
       "Besides, I figured you two guys don't keep any secrets from each other," he said.
       "We don't keep personal secrets, but we don't necessarily blab everything we know to each other," Kyle said, "especially if it involves stuff our friends don't want told."
       "You can tell each other everything I tell either one of you," he said. "I know you're just trying to help me, and sometimes two minds are better than one in knowing what to say."
       "Well, in that case, Tim, have you seen his pathetic excuse for a dick?" Kyle said, teasing.
       "No, I haven't, and you haven't, either," Tim said.
       "Oh, I thought maybe you had some 411 to share," Kyle said.
       Brady laughed hard at Kyle's wisecrack, and I did, too.
       "Kyle, you're pitiful," I said.
       "I know," he moaned. Brady laughed hard. "Let's go play with the dogs."

(Brady's Perspective)
       When my brother killed himself, it felt as though a huge part of me died, too. Josh and I were closer than most brothers are, I think.
       I was at school when I found out about it. The principal came to my classroom with a policeman. The principal talked to the teacher in private in the hall, and then the teacher came over to me to tell me to go with the principal. She had a really sad look on her face when she told me to pack up my books, and I got really nervous and scared.
       "Brady, this is Deputy Butler. I'm afraid there's been a terrible accident, and your brother, Josh, was found dead in a ballpark near here," Mr. Creel, the principal, said.
       "What do you mean?" I asked.
       I thought I heard him right, but it couldn't be true. Who would hurt Josh? Why would anybody do anything bad to my brother?
       "We found Josh about two hours ago, Brady. He had been shot," the policeman said. "I'm here to take you home now."
       "Who did it? Who shot my brother?"
       I was so nervous and so scared that I could barely talk. I wanted my parents. I wanted my brother.
       "We don't have all the details yet on what happened," the policeman said. "Come on, son. Let's get you home."
       He drove me home in his police car. He let me sit in the front seat next to him, so at least the people who saw me didn't think I had been arrested. We didn't talk on the way to my house, not even for me to give directions. The policeman knew where I lived.
       There were three or four cars in our driveway, and both of my parents' cars were there. I recognized the car of some good friends, but I didn't know who the other car belonged to. The policeman opened my door for me, and I got out. He walked with me to the front door. My dad opened it before I had a chance to, and he grabbed me into his arms. He was crying, and that scared me.
       My mother was in the living room. She was crying, too, and her good friend, Miss Sharla, was holding her. Another friend, Miss Thelma, was there, too, and Mr. Jim, Miss Sharla's husband, was on the phone in the kitchen. Mr. Jim and Miss Sharla were my parents' best friends.
       When my mom saw me, she started crying more than she had been before. My dad came in and asked me to go with him to my bedroom.
       "Brady, something terrible happened to Josh," he said.
       "I know. Somebody shot him," I said.
       "No, son. He shot himself. He used my .45. He put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. He's dead, son," Dad said.
       Mr. Creel at school had said he was dead, but it didn't really hit me until my dad said it. I went to pieces when he said that, and tears and shrieks came out of me. I wasn't able to talk or to think or to do anything.
       My dad sat down on my bed and pulled me down, too. Then he and I lay down, and he wrapped his arms around me, trying to comfort me. He needed comforting, too, but he was thinking about me. When he had started being mean to Josh after Josh told him he was gay, I thought he had stopped loving Josh. He hadn't, though, and he hadn't stopped loving me, either.
       We stayed like that for a long time, and I must have gone to sleep. When I woke up, it was around five o'clock, and there were a good many people in the house. Somebody came to the door with a letter Josh had written him. At first my parents didn't read it, but later, when most of the people had left, they did. That made them even sadder, and my mother started screaming.
       I wanted to see the letter, but Miss Sharla said, "No, not now." That's really the last thing I remember happening. I know we must have eaten at some point, and I'm sure we talked. I just don't remember doing anything.
       At some point in the next couple of days my parents went to Josh's school to talk to the principal and some of his teachers, and they were gone for a long time. When they came back from school, they wanted to talk to me.
       "Brady, your mother and I want you to know that we loved Josh, just like we love you. We will always love you, no matter what. When Josh told us he thought he was gay, I overreacted and said things that I will mourn until the day I die. I said some terrible things that I once believed but that I now know were lies. Mom and I spent the last three hours with Mrs. Ortega, the principal of Beachside, and she helped us to realize how wrong we were about Josh and about homosexuality. We are terribly sorry for what we did to Josh and for what we didn't do to help him," Dad said.
       I thought they expected me to say something, but I didn't know what to say. For a second, I thought about telling them that I'm gay, too, but I decided to wait.
       At the funeral the preacher started talking about Josh going to hell, and my dad made him step aside. He finished the rest of the service himself, and I felt much better than I had before. That was a Saturday afternoon, and we all kind of hung around the house, not talking, not doing anything, the rest of the weekend. When I finally read Josh's letter, I cried for hours.
       The thing about that letter was it let me know that my parents really were to blame for Josh's suicide. They rejected him. They weren't going to support him. I got really, really mad at my parents, and I thought I hated them. I didn't want to hate them, but how could they have done that to Josh?
       I stayed home from school on Monday, but I went back on Tuesday. Almost everybody was kind and gentle toward me. Some of my friends had even come to the funeral, and they tried to cheer me up. As we were going back to class after lunch, one miserable little prick told me Josh got what he deserved for being a fag, and I lost it. It's a good thing there was a teacher nearby because I would have killed that bastard. She took me to the office. I was so upset and crying that I couldn't talk. They called my parents, and my dad came and picked me up.
       Once I was in the car going home, I calmed down. My dad asked me what had happened, and, when I told him, I started crying again. He didn't drive me home after that. Instead, he took me to the marina where our boat was, and he and I went out on the boat. That was the first time I had ever done anything like that just with him. When we went out before, it was always the whole family or dad, me, and Josh. It felt good being out there with him, though. I was still angry at him, and I still hated him, but at least he seemed to be trying with me.
       "Son, I've been talking to Mr. Goodson and to Kyle. Do you know him?"
       "I know who Kyle is," I said.
       "Josh evidently trusted Kyle and thought a lot of him. Kyle gave a speech at an assembly they had at school the day Josh died, and he read his letter to the whole school. I'm not sure I would have done that, but that's what your brother wanted. I want you to talk to Kyle. Will you do that?"
       "Yes," I said.
       "I'll make arrangements to pick you up at school around nine tomorrow morning. Mrs. Ortega, the principal at Beachside, is the one who suggested this, so I know it will be okay with her. It's okay with Kyle and his parents, too. I think he can help you."
       * * *
       Kyle helped me a whole lot when we talked. I told him I'm gay, for one thing, and just saying that somehow made it easier for me to live with it. Kyle said he's gay, too, which I already knew, or had heard, at least, and that helped me, also. I told Kyle I hated my parents, but I didn't know if I did or not. I was still very mad at them, but they were trying to help me. How could I really hate them?
       A few days later, I was with Kyle and his boyfriend, and two other great friends, on Dune Island playing with their dogs. Kyle and Tim knew I was gay, and I told Justin and Brian that I was. They didn't blink an eye when I said it, either. In fact, they teased one another, and me, too, about it, but it was playful teasing, not hurtful or mean teasing. I liked that.
       We went to their church for Mass at six. That was the first time I had ever been to a Catholic service, and Brian helped me to know what to do to follow along. It was kind of complicated. Kyle didn't go with us because he had to go to Mass the next day for something special, but he was going to meet us after Mass to go out to eat.
       After we ate, Father Jerry took me back to his office to talk. We had already made plans for me to spend Saturday night with them, too, and Kyle said he would come pick me up when we were through.
       Father Jerry told me to call him just plain Jerry, so that's what I did. He was real kind and real nice. We talked about what had happened, but he already knew a lot about it. I think Kyle must have filled him in. I told him I'm gay, and he didn't seem to react.
       "How do you feel about your parents?" he asked.
       "Not good," I said. "You know about the letter Josh wrote to Kyle, don't you?"
       "Yes. I've read it, in fact," he said.
       "Well, I'm still really mad at them for making him feel so worthless and unwanted because he was gay. A few days ago I told Kyle I hate them, but I'm not really sure if I hate them or am just so mad at them that I don't trust them or respect them anymore," I said.
       "I think that's a perfectly normal reaction, and it's not something to be ashamed of," he said. "Psychologists and counselors have studied the grief process, and anger is one of the stages a person typically goes through when something like this happens. How do your parents seem to feel about their role in it?"
       "Oh, they feel terrible. And they have made a complete turn-around on how they feel about gays," I said.
       "Have you told them you're gay?" he asked.
       "No, sir," I said. "I started to the other night, but I held back. My dad told me they would love me no matter what, though."
       "I think it might be a good idea to wait to tell them," he said. "They're going through a lot right now, and, while I'm sure they'll take the news a whole lot differently than they took Josh's news, it's not a bad idea to give them a few months to adjust."
       "That's what I figured. I'm out, now, though, to you, and to Kyle, Tim, Justin, and Brian, so I don't feel the same need to tell them that I used to," I said. "Now I have people I can talk to about it."
       "I'm sure Kyle's already told you this, but in case he hasn't, I want you to know that I'm gay, and so is my younger brother," he said. "I sort of went through the same kind of isolation and loneliness you and your brother did until I finally told someone. I take it you don't have a boyfriend."
       "No, I don't. Kyle and I were talking about that this afternoon. I'm kind of scared about having sex," I said.
       "You can have a boyfriend without having sex, you know," he said.
       I hadn't really thought about that, but all of a sudden that made sense. In all of the stories I read about gay guys who had boyfriends, they were all having sex. I was pretty sure that my straight friends who had girlfriends weren't all having sex, so why should me and my boyfriend have to?
       "Did that surprise you?" he asked.
       "Sort of. I just thought that if you have a boyfriend, you have to have sex with him," I said.
       "I think a lot of younger guys think that, but it's definitely not true. You can have a very warm, loving, and intimate relationship with somebody without having sex. I mean, I'm not necessarily against boyfriends having sex, but it should only happen when two people really care for one another and want to share physical intimacy. Both guys have to want it. If somebody tries to force sex on you before you're ready or before you want it, that's sexual assault, and that's a crime," he said.
       "I don't have a boyfriend, but what you said really eases my mind," I said. "I mean, I want sex, I guess. Eventually. I like it when I masturbate, but I think I'd have to know somebody really well before I could do sex with them."
       "What do you think homosexual sex is all about, Brady?" he asked.
       I'm sure I blushed. "Up the butt?"
       "Sure, that's one form that sex between guys can take, but there are a great many homosexual men who don't care for that, or even the idea of it. Kissing, holding hands, touching, mutual masturbation, oral sex; all of those are ways men can express their love and affection for their partners without doing anal sex. I'm not sexually active anymore by my choice, but, when I was, I had anal intercourse only three or four times. What's important about sex is the physical bonding, the physical contact with the other person, and that can happen in a hundred different ways," he said.
       I was quiet because I was thinking about what he had been saying.
       "Have I just undone several years of reading and exploration on the Internet?" he asked.
       That made me laugh.
       "I have, haven't I?"
       "Yes," I said. "But what you said makes sense to me. I thought I was a freak in more ways than one."
       "A freak?"
       "Well, gay, and gay and not wanting to have gay sex," I said.
       "There's nothing freaky about you on either point, Brady. How old are you?"
       "Thirteen, but I'll be fourteen pretty soon," I said.
       "I won't deny that there are thirteen-year-olds having anal sex, but my guess is the majority of gay guys your age feel the same way you do about it," he said. "The vast majority."
       That really made me feel good. I was so glad I had met him.
       "I want to give you some reading material. You have access to the Web, right?"
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       He gave me a disk.
       "There is a file on here with links to some Web sites that deal with the kinds of questions you're probably having. I've read every word on every one of these sites, and I think you'll find them very good and very useful. It's ten thirty, and I have to get up pretty early tomorrow morning. Can we get back together after you've had a chance to look at some of these sites?"
       "I'd like that very much," I said.
       "Here's my card. Call me any time. It also has my email address on it, and I check my mail at least twice a day. Together, and I include the Foley-Mashburn guys when I say that, we're going to get you through this, okay? You've taken two or three major hits, and it'll take some time. But you're going to be okay," he said.
       I thanked him for talking to me. I dialed Kyle's cell phone from his office phone.
       "Hello," Kyle said.
       "Hi. This is Brady. Can you come and get me?"
       "Where are you?"
       "I'm at Jerry's office," I said.
       "I'm not getting up," Kyle said.
       I didn't know what to say. He told me to call him, and that's what I did. That wasn't like Kyle. At least I didn't think it was.
       "Shut up and hang up," he said. He hung up.
       "Kyle won't come and get me," I said to Jerry.
       "Come on. I'll drive you home," Jerry said.
       We left his office. It was really an office in a house next to the church. We walked down the hall, and I followed Jerry into a room that was like a den. There, sitting on the sofa watching TV, was Kyle and a man. I was totally surprised.
       "Hi," I said.
       "I got you, didn't I?" Kyle said. He and the man were grinning.
       "Yeah," I said. "I thought you weren't coming for me," I said.
       "I wasn't. I've been here the whole time. Tony, this is Brady Stanton. Brady, this is Father Tony Larson. He's the pastor here," Kyle said.
       I shook hands with Father Tony. I was kind of weak. They were watching Saturday Night Live.
       We left their house in a minute or two, and Kyle asked me if I was hungry. I had eaten a big dinner, but I could stand something. We ended up at an ice cream shop, and Kyle and I both got big banana splits. Somehow, that ice cream was just what I needed right then.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       The second half of the school year was just racing by, it seemed. There had been a lot of changes in our family. I don't mean my Goodson family, although my parents moving to Destin and my dad taking that new job at that hotel over there was part of it. I mean my Foley-Mashburn family. We had this new kid, Ron, and he was pretty easy. But we had Brady, too, and he was pretty fucked up. He wasn't living with us, but he was there a lot. He needed a lot of time, too.
       The thing I thought about the most, though, was Grease. I watched that movie like ten or twelve times, and every time I saw it I got more out of it. The people in my drama class never called me anything but Danny, and that was fine with me. I liked that name a lot, and I loved that character. That part was made for a gay guy like me to play because you had to understand what it was like to be tender and sweet to Sandy (the gay part of you) and tough and macho around the other tough guys (the pretend "straight" part of you).
       "Danny, you've had some kind of break through. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure glad it happened," Mrs. Storm said to me one day.
       "I think I finally understand Danny," I said.
       "I don't know what caused that, but I'm glad it happened," she said. "I'm very pleased with the singing and the acting, but we've got to start working on the dancing. Have you had any dance training?"
       "I don't know what you mean," I said.
       "Have you ever taken dancing? Like ballet or tap or modern jazz? Anything like that?" she asked.
       "No, ma'am. Not really. I took Indian dancing in the Order of the Arrow," I said.
       "I don't know what that is, but at least you've had some dance training. And you're pretty athletic. I only have budget to hire the choreographer for a week, and he'll be here next week. Come prepared to sweat, and if you miss a class, be prepared for your voice to go up several octaves," she said.
       Philip was right there with me, listening to that. He started laughing, but I didn't know why.
       "What's so funny?" I asked him, once she had walked away.
       "She just said she was going to cut your balls off if you miss a class," he said.
       "What do my balls have to do with my voice going up?" I asked. "I don't sing with my balls. At least, not here."
       He laughed.
       "Goodson, you know I love you, but you're a dumb son of a bitch." He was Kenickie in the play, Danny's best friend, and right then he was acting that part.
       "I know both of those things to be true," I said.
       "How'd you get the College Board to fuck up twice?" he asked.
       I knew what he was talking about. They made me a National Merit Finalist on the basis of my SAT score and some other shit. And that was truly a big mistake.
       "Don't you ever bring that up to me again, you hear me?" I said, poking my finger into his chest.
       "Kyle, who do you think you're talking to? We've been best friends for a hundred years. Don't you poke me in the chest. Better than anybody, I know how abysmally dumb and sorry and lazy you are. Oh, and did I forget ugly? I know you ain't worthy to lick the sweat off my balls, but you're still a fucking National Merit Finalist, Kyle, and I'm not. And I don't deserve to be. So there," he said. "You're embarrassed by that, aren't you?"
       "I'm not embarrassed to be a finalist, but I'm embarrassed by people making over it. I should have bombed the fucking test on purpose," I said.
       "Why didn't you?" he asked.
       "Because I promised Tim and my parents that I would do my best, that's why," I said. "They don't have the right attitude about this whole thing."
       "What kind of attitude are they supposed to have? It's a pretty major accomplishment, dude," he said. "Especially for you."
       I started laughing.
       "Are you implying that I ain't living up to my potential?" I asked.
       "No, I actually think you are. It's very low, but, hey! You do what you can."
       I laughed again.
       "I love you, Philip," I said.
       "The name's Kenickie. Don't wear it out."
       That was real close to a line from the play, and we both laughed hard.
       * * *
       I had several really big scenes where I had to dance and sing, more or less at the same time. They called those big scenes like that "production numbers," and they can really take it out of you. I was physically exhausted every day when I got home from school. My day started with weight training, and I tried pretty hard at that. Next was Individual Sports. That wasn't too hard. Third period was drama, and she worked our asses out pretty damn hard every day after the choreography started. Then it was lunch, thank God. Last period was Leadership. Part of a couple of periods of Leadership every week I did the ICC crap I had to do, but the rest of the time I took a study hall. I needed it for the English class I was taking at the college.
       When I went home after school to Kevin and Rick's house, my first stop was the kitchen for a snack. I usually got me a piece of fruit or a handful of cookies, but if they had left-over fried chicken or pizza or something like that, I got me at least one piece. After the kitchen, it was a sofa in the den for me. Nap time. I was definitely out.
       On Monday and Wednesday, I had class at the college from five to 6:30. In late February we started having play practice at night on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, starting at seven. They had it on Thursday night, too, but they scheduled scenes that I wasn't in for Thursdays because I couldn't be there. It usually lasted until around 9:30, but it sometimes went to ten or even later. That was more dancing and singing. I was almost always on the go. On Thursday night I had RCIA class from seven to eight, and then I went out to eat with Doc, Sonya, and Tim. That always got us home about ten or 10:30. I lived for Friday. I was so glad we had decided not to run that marathon in Birmingham.
       "Well, hi, there, stranger," Rick said to me on the Friday night of the last week of February. "I haven't seen much of you lately. It's Kyle, right?" It was just the two of us in the den.
       I chuckled.
       "Yeah, it's Kyle the Exhausted," I said.
       "Has your drama coach been working you hard?" he asked.
       "Yeah, real hard. It doesn't look hard when you watch the people in the movie singing and dancing at the same time, but it is," I said. "And we sometimes do the same thing over and over till we get it right."
       "You like it, though, don't you?" he asked.
       I grinned.
       "I love it," I said.
       "How are you coming on your book?" he asked. He was talking about my book of photos I was supposed to be working on.
       "Shit, Rick, I haven't had time to do a thing on that. Well, that's not totally true. I sent them a CD with about four hundred pictures on it. I hope there will be enough there that I won't have to fool with it anymore for a while," I said.
       "How's everything with you and Tim?"
       "It couldn't be better," I said. "We haven't been doing that much together, though. I've missed that. In fact, do you know where he is right now?"
       "His car is outside, so I guess he's here somewhere. Unless he went out with Justin and Brian," he said.
       Just then the three of them, plus Denny and Ron came into the room. Kevin was right behind them.
       "This looks like a family," Kev said.
       "Who's the mama? You?" Justin asked.
       "Sometimes he's the mama, and sometimes he's the daddy," Rick said.
       "What's done in private, stays in private," Justin said. "Ain't that the rule?"
       Kevin, Rick, Tim, Brian, and I laughed. The other two didn't know what the hell was going on.
       "Who wants to watch Grease?" I asked.
       "Haven't you seen it enough?" Tim asked.
       "Well, it's just on my mind all the time. Oh, I forgot about something. Mrs. Storm gave me a CD with just the music on it. I left it in my car, though," I said.
       "What are you going to do with it?" Brian asked.
       "It's so I can practice my songs at home," I said.
       "Do it tomorrow when you're all alone," Justin said. "You and Trixie can sing duets out in the clubhouse."
       "Very funny," I said. They all thought it was, though, and they laughed.

(Justin's Perspective)
       Around the last week of February, the Spring Breakers started coming to town. The year before I got pissed off a bunch of times at them because they stiffed me when I took their stuff up to their rooms. They probably thought I was getting some grand wage and didn't need my tips, but they were mistaken.
       Working the front desk was pretty much fun. Basically, Jeff and I shared one full-time job, and we each worked twenty hours a week. I didn't make all that much money doing that, but that was the only way I could work and still go to school. I made ten dollars an hour, so my gross paycheck was $200 a week. Jeff made more than I did because he had been working the desk longer, since school started. I would get a raise to $12.50 an hour when I had been doing it six months.
       I probably would have had a hard time living on that amount of money on my own. I had made a lot more than that as a bellhop, but now I was in manager training. Kevin and Rick basically supported me as far as housing and food were concerned, and Goodson Enterprises paid my tuition and books at college. I was content with what I got. Brian got eighty bucks a week allowance, and he was soon going to start making some money training dogs with his friend, Mr. Mack. When I thought about all the boys who were doing what I used to do just to survive, I knew I was a damn lucky guy. I said "thank you" to God every day, too.
       One afternoon I was behind the desk, minding my business and doing my job, and these three boys came up. They had all been drinking, probably all day, and I could smell them from halfway across the lobby. My ole buddy Stephen, from bellhop days, was working the desk then, too, and he was back there with me. Stephen is gay, and you don't have to have real strong gaydar to pick up on that.
       "Can I help you?" he asked the three.
       "Yeah, how about a blowjob," one of them said.
       "I beg your pardon," Stephen said.
       "You heard me, fag. I want a blowjob," he said.
       "I'm going to have to ask you not to use that kind of language in here," Stephen said.
       "I'll say any goddamn thing I want to say," he said. "This is a free country, ain't it?"
       "Yes, it's a free country, but . . " Stephen said.
       "Don't argue with him," I said, stepping up to the counter. "How can I help you?" I said to the boy.
       "Get your friend there to give me a blowjob. All three of us, in fact, and one for yourself, too," he said.
       His two drunk friends thought that was hilarious. There weren't many people in the lobby, but those guys were attracting their attention.
       "Now, look, dude, nobody's going to give you a blowjob, at least not any of us. If you've got some business, I'll be happy to take care of it for you. Otherwise, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the desk," I said. I used a very serious tone of voice.
       "Don't get pissed off, man. Jesus Christ! Can't you guys take a fucking joke?" he asked. "Can I cash a travel check here?"
       "Yes, sir, as long as you have ID," I said.
       He pulled out his wallet and his travel checks. I checked his ID, and it looked good to me. I made a photocopy of it, though, just in case I might need it sometime that week. While he was fooling around with the check, one of the other guys lit up a cigarette.
       "Sir, I'm sorry, but smoking isn't permitted in the lobby. You can step right outside, though, and you're certainly welcome to smoke there," I said. Where the fuck have you been hiding not to know that, I thought.
       "Oh, sorry," he said, and he went outside.
       I finished up with the travel check guy, and they went outside with their other friend.
       "God, I hate pricks like that," Stephen said.
       "We got to figure us some way to get some back-up, if anything like that happens again," I said.
       "We don't have a security guard, which I think is something we could use around here," Stephen said.
       "Why? I've been working in this lobby for a year, and that's the first time we've had anything like that happen," I said. "Except the time ole Wayne spray painted Tim's car, but Wayne was one of us. Let's go talk to Jason."
       We walked over to the Bell Desk to talk to Jason. He and two other guys were just standing around waiting for some business. I told them what had happened.
       "Bastards," Jason said.
       Jason was a man of few words.
       "Here's what I'm thinking. If we get something like that again, I'll start pounding on the bell as hard as I can. No, better yet, I'll pound out three sets of three taps. Kind of like SOS. When you and the other guys hear that, y'all just walk over to the desk. Don't do anything but stand there in case we need you. How does that sound?" I said.
       "It sounds damn good," Walt, one of the bellhops, said with a whole lot of enthusiasm. He was pretty weird, and I wasn't sure if I wanted him on my side or not. I didn't really have a choice, though.
       A couple of hours later, those same three boys came back, even drunker than before. They were sloppy, they were so drunk.
       I was on the phone, so Stephen stepped up to help them.
       "I'm still waiting for my blowjob, sweetie," the obnoxious one with the travel check said.
       Ole Stephen had his hand on that bell in a heartbeat. Ding-ding-ding. Ding-ding-ding. Ding-ding-ding. In two seconds here come Jason, Walt, and two other boys from the Bell Desk. I finished on the phone.
       "Can I help you?" I asked.
       "I lost my wallet. Did anybody turn in a wallet?" Mr. Obnoxious asked.
       "No, sir," I said. "Was your room key in it?"
       "Shit. Yeah, I didn't even think of that," he said.
       "What's your room number?"
       He told me the number, and I quick made him up a new key card. I checked the register to make sure he told me the right number, though, before I gave it to him. All I needed was him rooting around in somebody else's room.
       "That worked good," Walt said, after they were gone.
       "Yeah. Thanks, guys," I said.
       "Maybe one of these times we'll get to kick some ass," Walt said.
       "You don't kick any ass until I tell you to, you hear?" I said.
       "I won't, but I'm ready to," he said, sort of grinding his right fist into his left hand.
       "Okay," I said.
       That's psycho boy right there, I thought. I'm going to do everything I can to make sure he's on my side, at all times.
       I saw those three blowjob boys almost every day for the rest of the week, and every time I saw them they were drunk as skunks. We didn't have any more run-ins with them, though, and I was pretty proud of the way I had handled them.

Chapter 10

(Kevin's Perspective)
       Every year, the end of February meant Spring Break season, and that year was no different. We depended on tourists to make our living, and the Spring Breakers brought in a whole lot of money. We loved them.
       Spring was a very active time for the boys. Kyle had his play to keep him occupied, when he wasn’t organizing a party or running some kind of event at school. Or learning how to be a Catholic. All of that took up a bunch of his time.
       Brian was developing into a bona fide dog man under the tutelage of his friend, Mr. Mack, and he was actually earning money working with the dogs. Brian would have cheerfully done it for free because he loved the animals so much, but he didn’t turn down the fifty bucks Mack gave him every week to be his assistant. Even though Brian was working, we didn’t cancel his allowance. He was still our son, after all, and Rick and I thought he deserved to keep for himself whatever money he earned. Besides, Brian was such an incredibly sweet kid we thought he deserved to be spoiled a little. He had never been spoiled by anybody in his life, and he had been through a lot.
       Tim and Brian were the best of friends, and they spent a lot of time together working on their science projects for school. They each had placed in the regional science fair, and they were both scheduled to go to the State Science Fair in Gainesville at the University of Florida in late April. At first they thought the state fair was the same weekend as Grease, and neither one of them wanted to go if they had to miss the play. It turned out, though, that the state science fair was the next weekend. They had obviously done outstanding jobs with their projects, but they continued to work on them to refine them for state.
       Denny was beginning to develop an interest in writing. He still read everything he could put his hands on, and his interest in reading led him naturally to an interest in writing. He worked on several short stories to submit to the annual creative writing contest that the English teachers of the school district sponsored. One of his stories won first place in the Ninth Grade-Tenth Grade division, and he submitted it to the school literary journal. The sponsor liked it so well that she asked him to work on the journal staff.
       Justin continued to plug away at his job and at his college courses. He had never taken science before the biology course he was taking that spring, and he was full of interesting revelations from his study.
       "Did y’all know there is a scientific word for cum?" he asked one night.
       We were all in the den, and most of the kids were quietly doing homework or reading. He was reviewing notes or something for biology. He was basically talking to Kyle, but he included everyone with his use of "y’all."
       "Yeah, I knew that," Kyle said. "I can’t remember what it is, though."
       "It’s semen," Jus said. "It means 'seed.'"
       "Oh, yeah. That’s right," Kyle said.
       "I had never heard it called anything but cum. Turns out, that’s a slang word," Justin said. "Scientists don’t call it that."
       "A lot of people call it ‘semen,’ Bubba. Polite people," Rick said.
       "If they’re so polite, why are they talking about it?" Justin asked.
       "It would be like these two people are making love, and one says, ‘I’m going to suck the semen right out of your balls.’" Kyle said.
       "Now how dumb is that?" Justin said. "It’s testes, not balls."
       "I thought it was ‘testicles,’" Kyle said.
       "The man called them testes," Justin said. "He wrote the word on the chalkboard, even."
       "What’s the difference?" Kyle asked.
       "I don’t know. I think they’re pretty much the same thing. I’ll try to remember to ask my teacher what the difference is. I know they ain’t called balls or nuts, though. I think those are slang words, too," Justin said.
       Rick and I were listening to that conversation, which they were having in all seriousness, trying our hardest not to howl with laughter.
       "Do you know the word ‘penis’?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah, I knew that one. That’s a pretty common word," Justin said. "Do you know what a hard-on is?"
       "You’re teasing me, right?" Kyle asked.
       "I know you know what a hard-on is, but do you know what the real word for it is?" Justin asked.
       "Yeah, of course I do. Erection. I think everybody knows that, Bubba. You didn’t know it?"
       "Yeah, I knew it," Jus said. "I was just making sure you knew it. Do you know what your vagina is?"
       Kyle put the tip of his thumb into his mouth, with the nail between the bottom middle teeth, a gesture he typically used when he was thinking.
       "I don’t have one," Kyle said. "Do I?"
       "I hope not," Justin said. "It’s your pussy, if you do."
       Kyle laughed.
       "I knew that," Kyle said.
       "You did not, Goodson," Justin said.
       "I heard it before. I couldn’t call the word to mind, but I knew what a vagina was. The song ‘Greased Lightnin’ in the play has a line that says, ‘She’s a real pussy wagon,’" Kyle said, "talking about the car."
       "No shit? For real?" Justin asked.
       "Yeah, but we have to change it to ‘a real woman wagon.’ It also says, ‘The chicks’ll cream for Greased Lightnin'.’ We have to change ‘cream’ to ‘scream.’ Another one says, ‘With new pistons, plugs, and shocks, I can get off my rocks.’ I have to change that one from ‘rocks’ to ‘socks,’ which doesn’t make much sense to me," Kyle said.
       "Man, that play’s dirty," Justin said.
       "I know. Philip said he’ll give me a hundred bucks if I don’t change the words when I sing it in the play at the last performance," Kyle said.
       "Are you going to do it?" Jus asked.
       "I’m thinking about it," Kyle said.
       Oh, no, you're not, I thought.
       "Kyle . . . " I said, threateningly.
       He laughed.
       "I’m not going to do it, Kevin," he said.
       "You better not," I said. Knowing that he had the option and had actually thought about it was kind of frightening, though.
       "I respect the ultra-rightwing bigots too much to do that," he said.
       Rick, Justin, and I laughed. I think Tim chuckled, but he and the other boys weren’t really paying attention to Justin and Kyle.
       "What are you studying, Jus? Sex?" Kyle asked.
       "No, the male reproductive system. So, yeah, I guess I’m studying sex, in a way. Do you know what your perineum is?" he asked Kyle.
       "Is it that the little wad of skin right behind the head of your dick?" Kyle asked. He was just guessing; I knew he didn't know.
       "No, that thing is your frenulum. Your friend, in other words. That’s why it feels so good to rub it or have it sucked," Jus said. "Your perineum is the part between your balls and your asshole. You get off good and hard when Tim rubs that place, don’t you?"
       I was hearing way more than I wanted to know, but, at the same time, it was interesting to hear them discuss male anatomy from their perspective as gay men.
       "Yeah, I do. That’s as good as my sweet spot, almost," Kyle said.
       "That sweet spot is called the prostate. But I know you know that," Justin said.
       "Yeah. I knew that. We just call it the sweet spot, though, like the sweet spot on a baseball bat or a tennis racquet or a golf club or something," Kyle said.
       "Yeah, we call it that, too. I think we got that from you and Tim," Justin said.
       They continued talking about the male anatomy and the male reproductive system, and it was hilarious. They obviously knew those anatomical parts intimately, both on themselves and on their partners, but it was funny to hear them talk about it so seriously.
       "Have you got a test on this stuff?" Kyle asked.
       "Yeah, next week. This and a whole lot more. He told us this part would probably be pretty easy because we had learned it in high school biology. I thought to myself, yeah, if you went to high school. That’s why I’m studying so far in advance," Justin said.
       "You study a lot, Bubba," Kyle said.
       "I know. I’ve got to, though. I’ve got a lot to catch up, you know?"
       "Yeah, but you’re doing a damn good job of it. You’re going to be the valedictorian," Kyle said.
       "What does that mean?" Justin asked.
       "That’s the one with the best grades," Kyle said.
       "Is that what you are?" Jus asked.
       "Shit, no. No way, man," Kyle said, laughing.
       "Did you ever look up your rank in class?" Tim asked.
       "No, I didn’t. Why would I do that? I don’t care what it is," Kyle said.
       "Babe, you’re a National Merit Finalist. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?" Tim asked. His tone of voice said it obviously meant a lot to him.
       "That’s a mistake, and you know it," Kyle said.
       "I don’t think it is, Kyle, and if it is, you can't do anything about it. I took the PSAT, and that’s not an easy test. You did your best on it, didn’t you?" Tim said.
       "I don’t want to talk about this anymore," Kyle said.
       "Yeah, but I do, Kyle. I want to be a finalist more than anything," Tim said. "I am so proud of you, I could bust, Babe, but you won’t let us celebrate that. That’s wrong, Kyle. You’re wrong about this."
       Tim said that with a good bit of emphasis.
       "Are you pissed off at me?" Kyle asked.
       "I’m not pissed off at you, but I’m pissed off at your attitude. God made you smart. Accept it, man. I think rejecting the way God made you is like rejecting God," Tim said.
       "Yeah? He made me gay, too," Kyle said. He said that to challenge Tim.
       "Yes, and that’s exactly the same thing. If you reject being gay, you’re rejecting God, because that’s the way He made you. That would be like telling God He’s wrong. Don’t you see it, Babe?" Tim asked.
       Kyle was very quiet, and he knew Tim was right. He started picking at those front teeth with his thumb nail, so I knew he was thinking.
       "What’s your rank in class, Tim," I asked.
       "First," he said quietly.
       "What about you, Brian?" I asked.
       "First in my class, but I’m going to graduate when Tim does, so the best I can be is salutatorian. Are you all going to be ready for Tim and me to give back-to-back speeches at graduation?" Brian said.
       "We’re going to have a damn cheering section in that stadium when that happens," Rick said.
       "I can’t believe I’m hooked up with somebody who is first in his class," Kyle said.
       "You? What about me? I don’t even know what those words mean, Kyle, and I’m hooked to one, too. Feature that, dude," Justin said.
       "I know. Me, too. I think we got some keepers here, Jus," Kyle said.
       Justin laughed.

(Justin’s Perspective)
       One of the guys at work was named Chuck Jackson. I think he was about 21 or 22, and he was part-time, like me. He was a student at the local Florida State campus. I didn’t know his major, but I think it might have been hospitality. Jeff knew him, too.
       Chuck was a really nice guy. He was probably about six feet tall, maybe 170 or 180 pounds. He had blond hair, and he was pretty good looking. He wasn’t a show-stopper, though. He was just a nice, ordinary, average guy.
       He and I worked the bell service before I got "promoted" to the desk. He was still on the bell, but we were friends. We had coffee or cokes together during our breaks, when they happened to be at the same time, and we talked about this and that. Nothing special.
       One day he and I were taking our break. We always sat in the smoking section of the break room (which was a totally dumb concept, since it was just one room and smoke doesn’t know where to go except everywhere). Chuck didn’t smoke, but I did, and he wanted to talk to me. Out of nowhere he asked,
       "What do you think of homosexuality?"
       "What do you mean, what do I think of it? It just is, isn’t it?" I asked.
       "I mean, do you hate homosexuals?" he asked.
       I wanted to laugh, but I thought something might be going on here, so I didn’t. If he thought I was gay, why would he ask me that? I would never deny Brian and my love for him, but it just didn’t ever come up. But maybe it was coming up now.
       "I don’t hate homosexuals," I said. "Why would I? Do I come across like that kind of guy?"
       "No, you don’t. Just the opposite, in fact. You know Stephen is gay, don’t you?" he asked.
       "Only because he tells me that about three times a week," I said.
       He laughed.
       "Yeah, he is pretty ‘out,’ isn’t he?"
       "I wonder if he thinks I can’t remember from day to day. Once is enough, you know?"
       He laughed again.
       "I know. You don’t have a problem with him being gay?" he asked.
       "Hell, no. If you’re fixing to come out, it’s going to be all right with me, Chuck. I really would not have guessed it, but if that’s it, it’s okay with me," I said.
       "Well, that’s it," he said. "Thank you."
       He put his head down like he was about to cry or something. This is bullshit, I thought. I put the index finger of my right hand under his chin to lift his head. He had a pretty stiff beard, and I could feel it. It was the middle of the afternoon. I put my left finger under my own chin, and did the same thing. I could feel mine, too. I guess that was just something we’d have to live with.
       "Look at me," I said. "Don’t you cry on me. I like you a lot, Chuck, and I want to be your friend. But nothing’s going to happen, okay?"
       He did start crying, but I thought it was out of embarrassment, not disappointment.
       "Justin, I didn’t mean anything by telling you that. I just wanted you to know. I know you’re straight," he said.
       "How do you know that?" I asked.
       "Aren’t you?" he asked.
       "I’m straight first thing in the morning, and I’m straight at night in bed with my boyfriend. Beyond that, I’m not ever straight. Well, maybe now and then. You know how that is. But do you get what I mean?" I asked.
       The look on his face was classic, and I wished Kyle was there to get a shot of that.
       "You mean . . ." he started to say.
       "Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. All my life, man. But if you want some of me, you got to wait for a sixteen-year-old boy to die," I said. I was grinning big.
       "I feel so stupid," he said.
       "Why? We just came out to each other. It happens every day. I appreciate the fact that you had that much confidence in me," I said.
       "Justin, I feel so good right now. My God! The only other person in this town I’m out to is my mom. This is so liberating. I can’t believe how good I feel right now," he said.
       Him saying that made me feel real good, too.
       "Would you be willing to hang out with me sometime," he asked.
       "Oh, hell, yeah. I like you, Chuck. What do you have in mind?" I asked.
       "I don’t know? Do you like go-carts?" he asked.
       "I love ‘em. Let’s go after work," I said.
       "All right," he said. He was grinning and being happy. I knew he was, and I was pretty happy, too.
       That was a Tuesday, so I didn’t have anything to do after work. I went home to change my clothes to shorts and a tee shirt.
       "Brian, would it bother you if I went out tonight with a friend from work?" I asked.
       "Bother me? Of course not. Who is it?" Brian asked.
       "His name is Chuck Jackson, and he’s a bellhop. He’s a really nice guy, and he came out to me today. You really don’t mind if I go out with him?" I asked.
       "Do you mind when I go out with my friends from school?" he asked.
       "Of course not. You know that," I said.
       "So why would I mind if you go out with your friend from work?"
       "I love you so much, Little Buddy," I said, grinning.
       "I know you do, and I love you that much, too. But it’s okay for us to have friends, and to do stuff with them," he said.
       "Thanks. I figured you’d say that, but I wanted to check," I said.
       "Get out of here, and have fun with Chuck," he said. "I’ve got a ton of homework, anyway. If you really like him, I want to meet him one of these days," he said.
       "Oh, don’t you worry. You will. You trust me, don’t you?"
       "Completely, Buddy," Brian said.
       God, I loved that boy.
       "Well, you have every reason to trust me, and I trust you that much, too," I said.
       "I know you do. Go have fun. If we ever get to a point where we can’t have friends and do stuff with them apart from one another, I think it might be over between us. Probably because one of us is dead," Brian said.
       I laughed.
       "I agree. I love you so much," I said.
       "I love you more," he said.
       Chuck and I had a damn good time that night, eating dinner, riding go-carts, drinking a few beers he bought for us. I needed a fake ID in the worst way, and I was going to get Kyle and Jeff cracking on that the next day. They could do stuff on that computer that was so far over my head, I couldn’t even understand it. My brothers would fix me up. Of that I was sure.
       * * *
       Over the next few weeks, Chuck and I got to be really good friends. Kyle and I were best friends, and that was very precious to me. But Chuck was really my first good friend that didn’t have anything to do with the family or our circle of friends. He liked me for myself, and that meant a whole lot to me. Making him a friend was like a dog pissing on a fireplug. He was mine. He wasn’t my friend because I was part of a group. He didn’t know them, and he was my friend anyway.
       Of course, I wanted him to know my family. I wanted him to know Brian. I wanted him to know Kyle and Tim. I wanted him to know Kevin and Rick, too. Kyle had Philip as his friend, and they'd been friends all their lives. I didn’t have anybody like that. I didn’t have any roots, except through Kyle and his family, and I wanted some.
       "Do you guys mind if I invite Chuck over to watch a movie with us Friday night?" I asked.
       "Justin! This is your home. This is your family. Your friends are always welcome here, man," Rick said. "We thought you knew that."
       "Yeah, I knew that, but I never had any friends before. Besides us, I mean," I said.
       "It’s a fucking miracle you have one now," Kyle said, deadpan.
       "Fuck you, Kyle," I said.
       "Name the place and time," he said, and we both laughed.
       Chuck was sort of nervous at first when he came over. I thought that was kind of cute. I introduced him to Brian, and they shook hands. Then I introduced him to the rest.
       "Everybody in this house is gay, Chuck," I said. "You just came into the safest and most accepting place you have ever been."
       He got a big grin and happy tears in his eyes. I loved it.
       We got pizza, like we usually did on Friday night, and we watched a couple of DVD’s that Kyle or somebody had rented. Kyle wanted us to watch a VHS tape of Grease, which we had already watched several times, but we watched it again, anyway. Kyle sang every song, and I could tell Chuck had a damn good time with us. We ate great big bowls of ice cream, which we often did at the end of the evening, and then Chuck went home.
       * * *
       Chuck became a regular at our house, especially on Friday nights. He was over there more than that, but he spent every Friday night with us. Jeff and Kyle made me a fake ID that was almost perfect (everything but the hologram, but not too many people knew about that), and Chuck and I went out for a beer or two a few times. He and me and Brian took the boat out a time or two, with the dogs, of course, and all of us got to be good friends. Chuck was a really good boy, and we all liked him.
       One day, though, his life got all turned around.
       He called me on my cell. It was about five o’clock at night.
       "Justin, it’s me," he said, when I answered my cell.
       "What’s up?" I asked.
       He just sobbed.
       "Are you crying?" I asked.
       "Yeah. There has been an accident, and my mom is dead," Chuck said.
       "What?" I said.
       "You heard me right. My mom is dead, man. The fire department called her to say our house was on fire, and she was going home from work to see about it. There was a wreck, and she was killed. The house burned down, too," he said.
       "Jesus Christ! Chuck. Why didn’t you call me sooner?" I asked.
       "I did as soon as I could, Justin. Please come."
       There was no way in fucking hell I wasn’t going to see about my friend. I told the rest of them who were there what was going on, and they all wanted to go, too. They didn’t know him as well as I did, but he damn sure became a member of that family at that very moment. I knew he would never be alone again, unless he wanted to be, and I knew he would have a home. And I thought he needed one.
       I was thinking about how they found me. I mean, I was homeless and had absolutely nothing and no place to go. They took me in. Chuck wasn’t like me, though. I had only been sixteen, and Chuck was twenty-two, I thought. That was a big difference. But we were getting us another one on North Lagoon Drive.

Chapter 11

(Justin's Perspective)
       Kyle and Tim, and me and Brian, all went to get Chuck.
       "This is terrible," Tim said.
       "I know," Kyle said. "I can't believe his mom died, on top of losing their house. What about his dad?"
       "He doesn't have a dad," I said. "I don't know what happened to him."
       "We probably ought to call Kevin and Rick," Brian said. "Justin, give me your phone."
       Brian had a phone just like the rest of us, but that boy was stubborn as hell about not carrying it on him. Tim was the same way. They said it was against the rules to have one on you at school, but that never stopped Kyle for one second. He always had his on him. They could have done the same thing.
       I had both their numbers programmed in, so he just speed dialed Kevin. He told him what had happened.
       "What'd he say?" I asked.
       "He said to bring him to our house. What do you think he said?" Brian asked.
       "Don't you get smart with me," I said, joking. He was grinning. He knew he was cute.
       "He's bigger than all of us, isn't he?" Kyle said.
       "Yeah. So what?" I said.
       "Well, he's going to need clothes, that's so what," Kyle said. "He can't wear ours, except maybe underwear and stuff like that. His clothes are all gone, if his house burned down. Did any of you geniuses think of that?"
       "Shit. No, I didn't think of that," I said.
       "The first thing we'll ask him is if he has clothes at the cleaners," Brian said. "If he does, we can take him to get them."
       "Now somebody's finally thinking," Kyle said. "Excellent idea, Bubba. Thank you very much."
       "He's going to need a suit, too," Brian said. "For the funeral."
       "Shit. That's right," I said. "There aren't any suits at the warehouse, are there?"
       "No. Plus, Rick has just about dried that place up for clothes at this time of year. We're going to have to take him to the mall to get a suit. We better do that right away," Kyle said. "Otherwise, it might not be ready on time. You know they're going to have to alter it."
       "Let's wait and see what state he's in," Brian said. "Don't the hotels have a cleaning shop?"
       "Yeah. I guess we could get it altered fast there," Kyle said. "I really don't know if they do alterations or not, though."
       "Yeah, they do," I said. "I set up an alteration job for a guest just today."
       Chuck was at a neighbor's house when we got there, and he was a mess. His face looked like he had been crying for a week. But guess what? You lose your only parent, your home, and everything you own inside of an hour, and you're going to be a basket case. I guarantee that.
       We all hugged him big and hard when we got to him. He started crying fresh tears when he hugged me, and I started crying, too. I didn't do that all that much anymore, except when I was really happy, but that day I cried with my friend.
       We didn't take him to get a suit that day. We did swing by the dry cleaners and pick up his stuff, though. He had, like, four shirts and two pairs of khaki pants in there, and those would do him some good for a few days. His mom had clothes in there, too, and he told the two guys who ran the place, who looked like they were from India or someplace like that, to donate them to charity.
       "Let's take them," Brian said.
       "Why?" Kyle asked.
       "She's got to be buried in something," Brian whispered to Kyle.
       "Yeah, you're right," Kyle whispered back.
       So we took his mom's clothes, too. Kyle put the charge on his credit card. That thing came in handy a lot of times, that's for sure. He didn't blink using it, either. One day I'm going to be like that, I thought. Rick had given me a card, but I had never used it. It was just for emergencies.
       We got Chuck home, and Kevin and Rick were home from work by then. Everybody was really quiet. Kyle opened a bunch of cans of soup and warmed it all up in the microwave for us. He brought it out in a big serving bowl, along with big cups for us to use to eat it out of. He had crackers and cheese and sliced sausage and some cut-up fruit. That was the perfect meal for that kind of situation. He had mixed together all different kinds of soup, everything we had in the house, and it was damn good. People think you have to eat one kind of soup at a time. No. Mix together six or seven kinds, and it's great.
       After we ate, we had to deal with what was going to happen next.
       "Justin, take Chuck upstairs to the third floor and get him settled, please, Bubba," Kevin said.
       "Yes, sir," I said.
       "I'd like to take a shower," Chuck said.
       He needed one, too. He had soot and shit all over him, his face, neck, arms, clothes.
       "You can wear some of my clean underwear," I said. "And put on some of those clothes you got from the cleaners." He still had on his bellhop uniform.
       "Take a shower with him," Brian whispered to me.
       "What?"
       "You heard what I said. Take a shower with him. He needs you, Buddy," Brian said.
       "What if . . . "
       "Justin, go take care of your friend. I mean it. Take care of your friend," Brian said.
       I didn't know what was up, or what was going to come up. But nothing did. I was really glad I took a shower with him, too. It was very comforting for him, but there was nothing sexual about it. Absolutely nothing. Mostly, he just cried the whole time and said how nice I was being to him. I got to see him naked, though, and he was pretty fine. He thanked me so hard for being there for him that I almost started crying.
       * * *
       The next few days were tough. We got him a suit and got it altered. We also got the funeral arrangements made. Kevin and Rick went with us to take care of that. I didn't work much the rest of the week, and my brother Jeff filled in for me. He and Tyler knew Chuck from being at our house, but Jeff would have done it for me, even if he had never laid eyes on Chuck. I wanted him to take my paycheck for the time he filled in for me, but he wouldn't do it. That's just the way brothers are, I guess.
       The funeral was small. They didn't really belong to a church, so the guy from the funeral home conducted it. They had only been in Emerald Beach since the start of the school year. Everybody in his mom's office came, and all of us were there. There probably weren't more than thirty people. Mr. Rooney was there, though, and so was Jason, the bell captain. I have to give them that much, at least. The guy from the funeral home sang "Amazing Grace" at the end, and that was really nice. Kyle piped up really big because the guy told us to join in if we wanted to. I didn't know the words, so I just kind of hummed. Kyle knew every one of those words, though, and he and the funeral guy did harmony. After a few seconds, it was just the two of them singing, and it was beautiful. That is a fine song.
       Mrs. Jackson was a paralegal at a law office, and the lawyers were all there. All the rest of them from that office, too, I guess. They must have closed the place down for the afternoon. Anyway, it was them and us. Denny and Ron were there, too. Of course, Kevin and Rick might have made them come, or they could have been like Kyle, ready to miss school for anything, on a moment's notice. Still, it felt good to have my brothers around me and my friend.
       Some of the people from the law office brought food to our house and stayed for a little while after the funeral. It was mostly ladies, but there were a couple of guys, too. Everybody talked about Mrs. Jackson and what a wonderful lady she was. I figured she had to be somebody special to have a son like Chuck. They only stayed about an hour, though, and then it was just us.
       "Did your mom have family?" Kevin asked.
       "Not really. She has some friends back where we used to live. I guess I really should call them and let them know what happened. She has a cousin that I know, but that's really the only family she had, besides me," Chuck said.
       "What about your daddy?" Kyle asked. "Should you call him and let him know?"
       "He was in the military, and he was killed in the Persian Gulf War when I was little. I guess I should call my grandparents. His parents," Chuck said. "They're pretty old, and I know they couldn't have come for the funeral. They live in Iowa."
       "Is that where you're from?" Kyle asked.
       "That's where I was born, but I lived in several places growing up because of the military. We were in Tallahassee before we moved here. My mom was in law school doing her paralegal training. That's why I went to FSU over there," he said.
       "Why didn't you stay there?" I asked.
       "It's a long story. I'll tell you about it some time," Chuck said. That didn't sound too good to me.
       "Is that where you went to high school?" Brian asked.
       "No. We moved there from Daytona Beach for her to go to school. We moved the summer after I graduated high school," Chuck said.
       "Do you still have friends in Daytona?" Kyle asked.
       "No, not really," Chuck said. "Just an ex-boyfriend that I don't keep in touch with. Guys, I wasn't like you all. I didn't have a lot of friends, really. You guys are my first real friends. My boyfriend's brother outed us when we were juniors in high school, and he and I were picked on for being gay. It was pretty bad."
       And it must have been, too, because he got big ole tears in his eyes when he said that. That made me start to get mad at what they had done to him. I didn't say anything, though, but I looked at Kyle. I could tell he was as mad as I was.
       "Do you feel like talking about this?" Kevin asked.
       "Yeah. It's all right," he said. "I got beaten up a couple of times, and my car was vandalized, but mostly it was just laughing at me, calling me names, people 'accidentally' bumping into me in the hall and knocking my books out of my hands. That kind of stuff. He broke up with me right after all of that started and told everybody he wasn't really gay but just liked to get jerked off and to get blowjobs. Let me tell you, he gave as many as he got."
       "Why did his brother out you?" Kyle asked.
       "His brother was just ten months younger than him. He was a sophomore when we were juniors. He barged into his room one day and caught us kissing. He demanded that I give him a blowjob, and Dan said 'no.' His brother said we'd regret it, and we did. I wish I had given him the damn blowjob. If I had, though, it probably would have been some other kind of blackmail after that. They didn't get along at all, and his brother was a real jerk. He was jealous of Dan," Chuck said.
       "Is the brother gay, too?" I asked.
       "I don't know. Maybe, but it was really a power thing. I hate him, Justin," Chuck said.
       "We might need to organize us a road trip," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, shut up with that shit," Rick said. "Y'all are not going anywhere near Daytona, so you might as well forget it. Aren't you suppose to be a Christian? That would be revenge, and Christians don't do revenge."
       "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that," Kyle said.
       Tim, Brian, Jeff, Tyler, Kevin, and Rick all laughed when he said that, but I didn't think it was one bit funny. I was mentally agreeing with Kyle, but I kept my mouth shut.
       Kyle and Rick set out the food the ladies had brought, and we all ate. Afterwards, we changed out of our good clothes and went out to the clubhouse. Chuck was real quiet and real sad. After a while of just sitting and staring into space, he said,
       "What's going to happen now?"
       "You're going to stay here for as long as you need to or want to," Kevin said. "Monday morning we're going to start sorting things out. Your mother had life insurance through work, so there will be some money from that. I'm sure there was also insurance on the house. Do you happen to know anything about the mortgage? Like the mortgage company?"
       "There's a safety deposit box at the bank," Chuck said. "I guess there's information in there about all of that stuff."
       "Great," Kevin said. "Do you have a key to it?"
       "Yeah, somewhere. Oh, I know where it was. It was in my dresser drawer at home, so I guess I really don't anymore. Unless it's in my car," he said.
       He and Kevin and me went out to his car to look for it, and, sure enough, it was there. That was the first lucky break he had had in a week.
       * * *
       I went to class first thing Monday morning, and then I came right home. Paul Womack and I usually got together to eat breakfast and talk after class in the morning, but we didn't that day. I was home lickety-split. Chuck and me and Kevin went to the bank. Chuck's name was on the box, just like his mom's, so there were no hassles about that.
       I didn't know what a safety deposit box was, but it was in some kind of big vault at this big bank. I couldn't go in with Chuck, and neither could Kevin. It was just him and one of the bank guys. Chuck had a key to it, and the bank guy had another key. They had to use both of them at the same time. Otherwise, he couldn't get it open.
       It didn't take long, and Chuck came out with a wad of papers and stuff in two big envelopes. There was also a display box with medals his dad had won in the military, and Chuck was glad to get that. That poor boy didn't have anything, but at least he had that. One of the envelopes was nothing but family pictures, and the other one had all the important papers.
       We went back to Kevin's office to look at it.
       "Yeah, this is absolutely everything we need," Kevin said. "Thank God your mother had the foresight to get a safety deposit box."
       After he saw what was there, the first thing Kevin did was call the law office where Mrs. Jackson had worked. He made an appointment with the head guy for one o'clock that very afternoon.
       "They're going to go out of their way to help, Chuck," Kevin said. "The secretary put me through to him as soon as she figured out who I was and why I was calling. That's a good sign."
       We went and got some lunch, and then we went to the lawyer's office. I figured I'd have to wait out in the waiting room with Kevin, but he let both of us go in with Chuck. Chuck basically said that he trusted us completely and that he needed us, so in we went.
       The upshot of the meeting was that Chuck would not be poor. His mom had been getting money because of his dad, and she had socked all of it, or most of it, anyway, away in investments. She had bought him his car with some of it, which he owned outright. There were two life insurance policies on her, and one of them, the big one, was double indemnity, which meant it paid double if she died in an accident. The house was insured, too; even the contents. There was car insurance that would probably replace her car, which was totaled. There was a will leaving everything to Chuck, and the lawyer said it was airtight. I wasn't sure what that meant, except that I knew it was a good thing.
       The lawyer told Chuck there were some things he had to do to get it all sewed up.
       "Ironically, Chuck, it's the kind of stuff your mother would have done as a paralegal," the lawyer said. "It's contacting the insurance companies, filing probate papers at the courthouse for the will, and things like that. It will be a few weeks before everything is finished, but we'll take care of everything. At no cost, son," he said.
       Chuck teared up a little when he said that, and I understood why.
       He told Chuck he had to open bank accounts, both savings and checking, if he didn't already have them.
       "I have them," Chuck said, and he gave the man the account numbers so the money he would get could be put there.
       "Is there anything left to the house?" the man asked.
       "No, not really. I went through it a little, but I couldn't find much of anything," he said.
       "Chuck, all of us will go back and look some more," Kevin said. "There might be something that you'll want to keep."
       "Chuck, you've been staying with Mr. Foley, right?" the lawyer asked.
       "That's right, and he'll continue to stay with us as long as he needs to or wants to," Kevin said. "That part is taken care of."
       "And you're in school, right?" the lawyer asked.
       "Yes," Chuck said. "I'm actually supposed to graduate this semester."
       "Really?" I asked. I didn't know how far along he was.
       "Yeah. I did my internship last summer at the Surfside Resort, and I'm pretty sure I can get a job there," Chuck said.
       "Ain't that where you and Rick used to work?" I asked Kevin.
       "Yeah. We'll talk about this later," Kevin said. "I had no idea you were that close to finishing, Chuck."
       "Yeah, I am, Kevin," Chuck said.
       "You'll have a job, Chuck. Don't worry about that," Kevin said. "You have, as they say, connections."
       That lawyer didn't know what he was talking about, and I'm not sure Chuck did, either, but I damn sure knew. And Kevin knew I knew. He looked at me and smiled, and I grinned back at him.
       After the paperwork, we went home.
       "Justin, you and Chuck need to go do some shopping," Kevin said as he dropped us off. "Take this card. Just sign my name, but get him what he needs. Chuck, you can pay us back when the insurance is all settled."
       "For real?" I said.
       "No, I'm teasing you, Justin. I'm really going to have you arrested for forgery. Dumbass. We need to get you a card," Kevin said.
       "I have one. Rick gave it to me, but he told me not to use it except in dire emergencies. It has my name on it and everything," I said.
       "Oh, I forgot about that. Have you ever used it?" Kevin asked.
       "No, sir. I haven't had any dire emergencies. Except for that one hooker, and she wouldn't take American Express. She only took Visa," I said.
       Kevin busted up laughing.
       "Get your ass out of my car, dumbass," he said, still laughing. "And give me my card back. Use your own."
       He snatched his card out of my hand.
       "I feel better using my own one," I said. "I'm not really sure how to spell your name."
       Kevin and Chuck both laughed hard when I said that. It felt really good to me, making Chuck laugh, after all he'd been through.
       * * *
       Chuck and I spent the rest of that day shopping. We went into town to the mall, of course, but we also hit Target, Wal-Mart Super Store, T. J. Maxx, Ross, Steinmart, and two or three other stores. He needed everything, from toothbrushes to dental floss to aftershave to jeans. He was totally without. I got a little bit out of hand at the big department store in the mall when I was tossing him Polo shirts and Hilfiger shirts by the handfuls, but he reigned me in. We got our best deals at T. J. Maxx and Ross, and he bought himself some very nice clothes.
       "Justin, I can't believe you," he said at one point.
       "What?"
       "Our tastes are identical," he said.
       "So, what's wrong with that?" I asked.
       "Nothing's wrong with that. I think it just means we're supposed to be friends," he said.
       We looked at each other and cracked up. I had never had many friends before, but I damn sure wanted him to be mine. I mean, the guys in the house were my dear friends, the best ever anybody could have, but he was sort of an independent friend. He was four years older than me, but that didn't matter. I knew right then that we were going to be friends for life.
       About three o'clock in the afternoon, my ass was flagging. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. We were in Target, and I could barely look at the merchandise for smelling the food coming out of that deli, or whatever it was.
       "Do you like to eat?" I asked.
       He cracked up.
       "Yeah, I like to eat, and I'm kind of hungry," he said.
       "Me, too. Let's go get some," I said.
       Let me tell you something about the deli or lunchroom or whatever they call it at Target. It is damn good. I recommend the hamburgers and the French fries. But don't get you just one. I got me three that day, and that was about right. Get you some onion rings, too, 'cause they are very good. Very fresh and crispy. The next time you and your buds are going out to lunch, and y'all don't know where you want to go, go to Target. This is not a paid ad, and I'm not getting any money or discount or anything for saying it. It's just a fact, at least at our Target. Get your popcorn at Wal-Mart, though. It's the best.
       After we ate and drank two or three cokes (refills are free at Target), he said,
       "Why are you doing this for me?"
       "I'm doing it 'cause I hate you, and the sooner you get fixed up, the sooner you'll be gone," I said.
       "You asshole," he said.
       We both cracked up.
       "You just answered your own question. I'm doing it because I like you and because you're my friend," I said.
       "And there's no sexual interest?" he asked.
       That caught me up.
       "Chuck, please don't go there. You know there is, man. Just like I know there is on your part. I'm committed, Chuck, and I mean that. Yeah, there is a hell of a strong sexual attraction, but it's just got to be as friends, okay? Can you live with that?"
       "You guys are incredible," he said.
       "What do you mean?" I asked.
       "There's a strong attraction between you and Kyle, too, isn't there?" he asked.
       "Yeah. Very, very strong, and it's been there from the beginning," I said.
       "So why don't you act on it?" he asked.
       I lit up a cigarette to give myself some thinking room. I didn't know if that was a smoking area or not, but I needed the time to think.
       "Kyle and I don't act on it because we're both in love, but not with each other. Getting him in bed would satisfy some big urges. No question about that. He is hotter than hell, and I think you know that. I think anybody who ever saw him knows that. This is going to sound so gay, but he and I are spiritual friends. We love each other to the core, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for that boy. And I know there is nothing he wouldn't do for me. But Kyle and I aren't soul mates the way Brian and I are, or the way Kyle and Tim are. And if Kyle and I had sex more than a time or two, we'd both have nothing," I said. "And we would never be satisfied with just once or twice, if we ever started."
       "You four guys are really close, aren't you?"
       "There is no way an outsider could ever know how close the four of us are," I said.
       "I gathered as much. You guys are really lucky," he said.
       "I know we are. It's not about being gay. It's about loving," I said.
       "I know. I'm so lucky to know you," he said.

(Brian's Perspective)
       I really liked Justin's friend Chuck. He was obviously a very smart boy, and he was very cute, too. Jus had me and Kyle and Tim, and Kevin and Rick, and a ton of friends, so he really didn't "need" Chuck the way Chuck needed him.
       I could tell there was a strong sexual attraction on Chuck's part for Justin, and I knew Justin was sexually attracted to him, as well. I thought about it a lot after I first met Chuck, and I decided that if Justin and I were ever going to have a life together, I had to trust him. I could have said I really didn't want Jus hanging around with Chuck, and I know Jus would have given in to my wishes. That wasn't fair to him or Chuck or our relationship, I didn't think. If Justin wasn't all mine, I wanted to know it sooner, rather than later.
       The Monday night of the day they went to see the lawyer and to shop for new clothes for Chuck, I had a ton of homework. I was working in our room to avoid the distractions in the den, and Justin came in.
       "Are you busy, Little Buddy?" he asked.
       I smiled at him. I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it, too, because it meant my trust had not been misplaced. He was as horny as a two-peckered goat, and he wouldn't have been that way if he and Chuck had been fooling around.
       "I'm busy, but I'm not too busy for you," I said.
       He grinned. He led me to the side of the bed from the desk. We undressed each other, and we made love like we hadn't made love in a while. He was passionate and tender, eager and gentle. He was everything I wanted him to be.
       When we were finished, we were lying in bed. He was smoking a cigarette, with the ashtray seated on his belly. It didn't bother me that he smoked, and he seemed to be doing a lot less of it lately, anyway.
       "You thought I was screwing around with Chuck, didn't you?" he asked.
       "Never," I said.
       "Really?"
       "Really," I said. "I think Chuck would like to."
       "Yeah, I know he would. I told him today it's never going to happen, though," he said.
       "This whole thing with him might have been a hurdle for us, you know?" I said.
       "Yeah, I know, but I cleared it. I never, ever want to be in a bed like we are right now with anybody but you," he said.
       I couldn't help myself. I teared up.
       "What's the matter?" he asked.
       "You just keep making me happier and happier," I whimpered.
       "Come here to me," he said, grabbing me around the neck. He set the ashtray on the nightstand, and we made love again.

(Kyle's Perspective)
       We had us a hell of an early spring, that's for sure. It seemed that every day since we got home from Mardi Gras there was something new. First, Ron came home with us. Then, as soon as we got home, Josh off-ed himself, and then we had Brady to deal with. Then came Chuck, with his mom and all. Jesus Christ! Kevin and Rick should have each had a sign on their back that said, "Dump on me!" They were two very strong guys, but how much could they take all at one time?
       "Kyle, I want to thank you for being so nice to me," Ron said one night when he and I had finished shooting pool in the clubhouse.
       "You're welcome, but I really don't know what you're talking about," I said.
       "You're the boss around here, aren't you?"
       "The boss? Hell, no, I'm not the boss. What made you think that? Kevin and Rick are the bosses. Not me," I said.
       "The other kids think you're the boss. Or at least the boss kid," he said.
       "I'm just pushy and obnoxious. I'm not the boss," I said.
       "I know the rest of them put up with me because of you," he said.
       "They don't put up with you. They like you, Ron. Give us time, and we'll all love you, man. And you'll love us, too. We're all brothers in this house, and we're brothers who stick together," I said.
       "I already love you," he said.
       He said that real shy, and I didn't know where the hell that was going. I had my suspicions, though, and I had to nip that in the bud.
       "You know there are two kinds of love, right?" I said. "One for a boyfriend or partner, like my love for Tim and his for me, and one for a brother or other relative or friend."
       He didn't respond. He just looked down, like he didn't really want to hear what I was saying.
       "You and I can love each other as brothers, but the other kind is off limits for us. We can't go there, and you can't go there," I said.
       "I've never known anybody like you before," he said.
       "Well, I'm really not all that uncommon," I said. "There are pushy, bossy people everywhere."
       "You're not pushy or bossy, Kyle, you're . . . "
       "I'm what?"
       "You're what I want. I want you, Kyle, and I love you," he said.
       "Come here, buddy," I said.
       We were in the clubhouse, just the two of us, and we were sitting across from each other. He got up to come over to the sofa I was sitting on, and his dick was a good six or seven inches ahead of him. He had on sweatpants and evidently no underwear, or maybe boxers, and he was very aroused. He sat down next to me, and I put my arm around him. He was sniffling, like maybe he was crying a little bit.
       "Ron, you and I are going to be brothers for the rest of our lives, but Tim and I are going to be partners for the rest of our lives. That's just the way it is, man. You think you're in love with me, but you hardly know me. We just met last October, and I didn't even see you again until a few days ago. I want to be totally up-front with you. There's not ever going to be anything sexual between us," I said.
       He tensed up right then, and I knew what was happening. I looked down at his crotch, and a big wet spot started to develop. He had come. I knew that must be embarrassing as hell to him, so I didn't say anything. Why did these young guys want me so bad? He was the second one to come spontaneously like that. Denny had done it in the shower when I was shaving him.
       "I think we need to go in the house," I said.
       He started sobbing.
       "Kyle, I'm so sorry. I didn't want that to happen, but I couldn't do anything about it," he said. "I'm so ashamed." He was crying hard.
       "Ron, please don't feel embarrassed, man. I know you couldn't control it. I've done it a whole bunch of times, and most guys do," I said. "You understand where I'm coming from, though, don't you? Tim and I are in this thing for life, and I mean that. It's very difficult sometimes, especially when I meet cute boys like you, but that's the way it is."
       "I'm sorry I said that stuff," he said. "I know I'm a temptation, but I couldn't help myself."
       You're cute, but you're not really a temptation, I thought, but I didn't say that. What I said was,
       "There are a whole lot of temptations out there. Believe it or not, you've helped make me a stronger person tonight, and I thank you for that."
       I knew I was probably going to burn in hell for telling lies like that, but what was I going to say? You don't interest me? You don't hold a candle to Tim? That would have damn sure done a number on him. I couldn't make him feel bad about himself.
       "Do you hate me?" he asked.
       "No, Bubba. I love you. Just not that way," I said.
       He was quiet for a long time. I knew that the cum in those sweatpants had to be cold as ice by then, and that had to be uncomfortable. It was quite a bit, too.
       "Come on, Bubba. Let's go inside and get cleaned up," I said.
       "Did you come, too?" he asked.
       "No, I didn't," I said. I was being honest for once.
       "Did you get hard, at least?" he asked.
       I shook my head "no."
       "I see what you mean, then," he said.
       "I don't get hard when Kevin holds me or Rick holds me," I said. "Or Jeff or Justin or any of the others. Only Tim."
       "You guys are so lucky," he said.
       "Yeah, I think we are."

Chapter 12

(Tim's Perspective)
       Before we realized it, it was time for our Spring Break. We had been seeing the people who were in town for their Spring Break in Emerald Beach, but we more or less took that in stride without much notice. There had been so much going on that I think ours crept up on us. We had tickets for Washington, D.C., and the four boys--Kyle, Justin, Brian, and I--were looking forward to the trip.
       As usual, Kyle took charge of planning the trip. He spent three or four nights on the Internet looking for Web sites of places we might like to go.
       "Okay. Here's a list of places," he said, passing out a printed list of museums and other attractions. "I want everybody to check off the ones they think they would like to go to. I don't think we can go to all of them, so we have to make choices."
       The list was pretty extensive, and I was sure it didn't include everything there was to see. In fact, I pretty much knew that he had left off the list things that he wasn't interested in. For example, I had been to the National Gallery, and it wasn't on the list. I knew Kyle had no interest in spending time looking at paintings, and I pretty much didn't think any of the rest of us did, either. We had done that in New York, and it had been a bust.
       He would tally the lists but wouldn't tell anybody what we were going to do. He asked us not to discuss our choices because he wanted the whole thing to be a big surprise.
       "Kyle, this is just more of your bullshit," Justin had said when Kyle announced the rules.
       "Do you trust me to put together a good trip?" Kyle asked.
       "Don't start that trust crap, Kyle. You're always wanting to test me. You know I trust you. I don't have to keep saying it over and over," Jus said. He was a little annoyed.
       "I guarantee you this trip will be fun for everybody. Just do what I ask you to, okay?" Kyle said. He was a little annoyed, too. He had gone to a lot of trouble to research all those places. "If you don't want to do what I put on the list, you don't have to. You're a grown man. You can get around a city by yourself," Kyle said.
       "Kyle, you're getting mad, and I don't want you to get mad at me over this. I'm sorry I said anything," Justin said. "That wasn't fair of me, and I'm going to do it exactly like you want us to."
       "Let's start over," Brian said. "What do you want us to do, Kyle?"
       "Well, I was just thinking that instead of arguing about what we want to do every day, you all would let me come up with an itinerary. I mean, I got the stuff that looked good to me. I didn't put the National Ballet on the list, but I didn't think y'all would want to see that. I tried to get stuff that boys would like," he said.
       "Okay. That sounds good to me. And you're right. There's no point in wasting half a day arguing and trying to decide what we want to do," Justin said. "Let's vote."
       The things on the list were very good, I thought. And it really was all "boy stuff." I noticed he had "Dupont Circle Nightlife (Gay)" on the list. That was a big gay neighborhood, and I'm sure it was chocked full of gay bars, clubs, coffee houses, shops, and restaurants. We really didn't participate in gay culture all that much, but I liked the idea of being in that kind of environment from time to time. We did it in New York and Boston, and we did it some in New Orleans, too. I didn't want a steady diet of that, but two or three times a year were fun.
       * * *
       Our flight out of Emerald Beach was at 9:30 AM on Saturday, March 14th, and we would come home on Saturday, March 21st. The flight to Atlanta took the usual hour, and the flight into Reagan National Airport from Atlanta took an hour and a half. Flying into Reagan National was sort of scary because it was right in the city, or it seemed like it was. We got out of there and to our hotel by 3:30. We were staying in one of our "brand" hotels in the Dupont Circle area, and I knew that Kevin, who had made the reservations, had known about that part of town. It was a really nice hotel, though.
       We had adjoining rooms, with a door connecting the two, but each room only had one bed, a king size. The arrangement the year before in New York, where all four of us stayed in the same room, was fun, and I liked having the extra money. But four guys in one room, with only one bathroom, wasn't fun. Kyle and I shared a bathroom all the time, just like Justin and Brian did, and we had our routines worked out. I was glad each couple was going to have their own room and bathroom, but I liked the idea of the door between them.
       We didn't unpack or anything when we got into our room. We just put our bags in there and met downstairs. They had a coffee shop in the lobby. We had eaten a hamburger in Atlanta, but we were all hungry. First stop, coffee shop for a snack. After that, we picked up a tour bus. It was about 4:30, and the feature of that tour, besides just driving around seeing places like the Supreme Court, the Library of Congress, the National Archives Building, the Arlington National Cemetery, and other stuff like that, was dinner at a nice restaurant (Italian) and a tour of the major monuments after dark.
       Washington was a city of lights, and they did the best job of any place I had ever been of lighting up those monuments. We had passed the White House when it was still daylight, and it was fine. Nothing really special, though. I mean, we had been to plantation houses that looked about the same from the street as that place did during the day. At night, though, all lit up, it was spectacular. The highlight for me was the Lincoln Memorial. We got out of the bus at that one, and walking up those steps, with the lights on that colossal statue, really moved me.
       Standing at the top of the Lincoln Memorial, you could look down the National Mall at the Capitol Building, ablaze with light. Kyle grabbed my hand.
       "This is magnificent," he said.
       His voice broke, and I knew he was as filled with emotion as I was. Brian was crying openly, and Justin wiped a tear or two from his eyes. There's a lot bad about America, but there's a whole lot good about it, too. Standing on that spot, my throat contracted and my chest heaved. I was taking AP American History, and I thought about everything those buildings and monuments represented to us and to the world. There in the center of it all was the Washington Monument, under a ton of scaffolding because of the renovation they were doing, and I thought of George Washington and of the republic he and the Founding Fathers envisioned. People all around us were wiping their eyes.
       "Let's walk down," I said to Kyle.
       He still had my hand, and we walked down the step of the Lincoln Memorial as a couple in love, out for all the world to see. We walked over to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on the left. There were a lot of people there looking for names. I thought about Kevin's uncle who had been killed in that war, and I wondered if we could find his name. We didn't know the year he had been killed, so we really didn't try that night. Later in the week, we went back there in the daytime when we knew the year, and we found it. We each made a rubbing of his name to give to Ed the next year at Christmas.
       After we saw the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, we walked across Constitution Gardens and across West Potomac Gardens to the Korean War Memorial. It was a bunch of statues of soldiers crossing grassy fields. They had planted winter rye grass between the rows of statues, and it looked like the guys were crossing rice paddies or something, as the grass blew in the breeze. To me it was much more stirring than the Vietnam Veterans Memorial was, but that was just the way I felt. It was fabulous. In the last few months, our president had said North Korea was part of the "axis of evil," and the day before I had heard on the radio that 50% of the households in South Korea were wired for broadband Internet, a much higher percentage than our country. I didn't know what to think.
       After that, we got back on the bus and they drove us to the Jefferson Memorial. We had spent a lot more time in AP American History studying Thomas Jefferson than we had George Washington because the man had made a much greater contribution to the country, intellectually, at least. He was never a soldier, or at least not a famous one. He wrote the Declaration of Independence, and he, along with Benjamin Franklin and some other guys, gave the country its philosophical roots. His monument was fine, too. It was probably as big as the Lincoln one, but it didn't stand in that commanding spot like the Lincoln did. And that was maybe the way it should be. Jefferson was a farmer, after all, and he loved the countryside. He was kind of a man behind the scenes, pumping out the ideas that inspired people like Washington and Lincoln. Maybe he needed to be off to the side. But it was spectacular.
       We got back to our hotel at nine o'clock, and we went up to our rooms. All four of us were in mine and Kyle's room.
       "Well, so far, you done very good, Kyle," Justin said.
       Brian and I laughed, and Kyle just grinned.
       "I told you it was going to be good, Jus," Kyle said. "You just have to t-r-u-s-t me."
       Kyle was lying on the bed, and Justin jumped on him when he spelled out that word. They wrestled around for a few minutes, and then we heard the bed groan, like it was going to break or something.
       "We better stop this shit before me and Tim are sleeping on the floor," Kyle said.
       We all laughed, but I was glad they stopped it.
       "So, what's next? Are you guys ready for bed?" Justin asked. "It's only a little after eight, our time."
       "Hell, no, I ain't ready for bed," Kyle said. "I say we go out. We're right here in the middle of the gay neighborhood. One of them, anyway. Let's go see what our brothers are up to."
       "That sounds good to me," Justin said.
       "Wait a minute. Before we go, I've got something for Tim and Brian," Kyle said.
       "What?" I asked.
       "Fake ID's, that's what," Kyle said. "Jeff worked on these things for days, and they are perfect. Everybody here is twenty-one, as of right now. I know you two won't be drinking, but a lot of places you can't even get in unless you're twenty-one. Well, you can, as of now."
       He gave me and Brian new driver's licenses that said we were twenty-one. I was sure the Department of Transportation in Florida could have spotted them as fakes, but they looked real good to me.
       "Kyle, this isn't right," Brian said.
       "Why not? Are you going to get shit face drunk tonight? Are you going to pull out your dick and piss in the street because you're drunk? Are you going to rape somebody on the dance floor because you're drunk? I just don't see it happening, Brian."
       Brian laughed hysterically at Kyle, and the rest of us laughed, too.
       "You ain't going to pull that little thing out. You know that," Justin said.
       "Fuck you," Brian said.
       "Oh, listen at him. He's already talking like a big boy," Justin said.
       Brian dove on him and hugged him and kissed him. They wrestled around a little, and they were so cute.
       "Let's go before we really break the fucking bed," Kyle said.
       We all laughed.
       * * *
       Dupont Circle itself is a big traffic circle where three major streets come together. Right in the middle of the circle is a big fountain that is a memorial to General Francis Dupont from the Civil War. The circle itself was interesting enough, but the action was down P Street and on 17th Street and other streets around there.
       "Do you all feel like cutting a rug?" Kyle asked.
       "Dancing?" Justin asked.
       "Yeah. Like we did in New Orleans," he said.
       "Sure," Brian said. He liked to dance a lot.
       We went into a club that had a huge dance floor, with lights and loud music. There were quite a few people dancing, and a lot of them had their shirts off. Some were holding glow sticks. We found a place to stand along the wall, and a shirtless waiter in real short shorts was there to take our order almost immediately.
       Kyle and Justin ordered real drinks, and Brian and I ordered cokes. We figured the cokes would cost as much as the liquor drinks, but they turned out to be only $3.00. There wasn't much point in trying to talk, so Kyle and I stepped out to dance. Justin and Brian did, too.
       Kyle is a very good dancer, and I think he'd gotten even better since he'd been in the play. He put a lot of energy into it, and I noticed guys looking at him. We danced three in a row, and then we took a break. The first thing he did was take off his shirt. He was starting to sweat, and he didn't want to ruin his shirt. In a matter of minutes the waiter was back with a second drink for Kyle.
       "I didn't order this," Kyle said.
       "I know, but you took your shirt off. It's on the house for any guy who takes his shirt off. Especially if he looks like you," the waiter said and winked.
       Justin laughed his ass off at that shameless flirting, but Kyle just grinned and thanked the man.
       "He thinks you're cute," Justin said.
       "He is cute," I said. "Take yours off and see if he'll flirt with you."
       "I don't want to do that. I don't want to give the boy a hard-on," Jus said.
       Because of the noise in the place, he had to just about shout to be heard. Well, not only was he heard by us, he was heard by all the guys around us. Three or four just to our left heard him and laughed.
       Kyle and Justin finished their drinks, and Kyle shared his free one with Jus. That was about all we could take of that place, so we left. It was cold enough outside for us to need jackets, so Kyle put his shirt on before we went out.
       The next place we went had a cover charge, but you got a show and a free drink for it. We went in, and there were as many women in there as there were men. We sat down at a table with six chairs, and we ordered our drinks. In a few minutes, these two women came over to ask if we minded if they sat with us. We didn't mind, but the place wasn't really standing room only.
       "This is a gay bar, isn't it?" Kyle asked one of the ladies.
       "It sure is, honey. One hundred percent. Is this where you belong?"
       "Yeah, we're gay," Kyle said. "You must be a lesbian."
       Both of the women laughed.
       "Where are you from, sonny?" she asked.
       We told them all about ourselves, where we were from, what we were doing there, and so on. They were real nice.
       "Can I buy you ladies a drink," Kyle, the Southern gentleman, asked.
       "Why, that would be nice," one of them said. She said to call her Syl, short for Sylvia. The other one said to call her Irene.
       We chatted on, making small talk. They told us about some places to go and some to stay away from, and they encouraged us to check out the gay bookstores that were here and there.
       At one point Kyle asked, "Why did you laugh when I asked you if you were lesbians?"
       "Show him, Syl," Irene said.
       Syl took Kyle's hand and put it in her lap. He whipped his hand away like her lap was on fire.
       "Shit! Fuck!" Kyle said loudly.
       The two women were laughing hysterically.
       "What the hell's going on?" Justin asked.
       "This ain't a woman. He's got a dick, and it's hard," Kyle said.
       That only made Syl and Irene laugh harder, and we all laughed hard at Kyle's reaction. Finally, he saw the humor of the situation, and he laughed, too.
       "Do you do this a lot?" Kyle asked.
       "Not too often," Syl said. "Just when we see sweet young boys who are still wet behind the ears. I hope you weren't offended."
       "Hell, no, I wasn't offended. I was too surprised to be offended," he said.
       That made them laugh some more. It was pretty clear they liked all of us, and I could tell they really liked Kyle.
       It turned out Syl and Irene were both in the show, and they both could sing really well. We stayed for their act, and Syl dedicated her version of "Way Down Upon the Suwannee River" to "the boys from Florida." That was quite an experience.
       We walked around holding hands or with our arms around one another. We went into several shops, a couple of galleries that had photographs, as well as paintings and prints, and a bookstore-movie store combination. We bought a couple of books to give Kevin and Rick, and Jeff and Tyler as souvenirs, but we didn't buy any movies. I thought about buying a little pin of the gay flag, but I changed my mind when I saw it cost fifty dollars.
       We got back to our hotel around 12:30 in the morning, and Kyle and I crashed for the night.

(Brian's Perspective)
       The week we spent in Washington was as much fun as I think I had ever had on a trip. We had been on some wonderful vacations, but, for some reason, the Washington trip was the best to me.
       We were staying in the Dupont Circle neighborhood at a very nice hotel. Kyle, Justin, and Tim liked the area, but I absolutely loved it. The circle itself was really a small park, and there were people in it day and night. The buildings and houses around there were beautiful, and a bunch of the old mansions had been turned into embassies of countries from around the world. There were a lot of people on the street, and there were sidewalk cafes and interesting shops everywhere. We hadn't been in any neighborhoods in any city yet that was like that one. Even Greenwich Village in New York wasn't that good, at least to me.
       We did so much that it's hard to remember everything. Fortunately for us, Kyle took a million pictures, so we can look at those and remember all the fun we had.
       Probably the highlights for me were the National Zoo, the National Aquarium, Explorers Hall at the National Geographic Society, and the National Air and Space Museum. We went to see the musical 1776 at Ford's Theater, the place where President Lincoln was shot, and that was really cool. After the play, we went to a coffee shop for something to eat, and we were discussing everything we had already done.
       "I loved that play," Kyle said.
       "You want to be in it, don't you?" Justin said.
       He and Kyle had a special language they used when they were playing with each other, and Justin used it when he said that. It wasn't really a special language. It was more like a tone of voice, or something.
       "Yeah. So what if I do?" Kyle asked.
       "So nothing. Be in it if you want to," Jus said. "Just don't be singing the damn songs around the house all the time."
       "But Justin, I got to. 'It's hot as hell in Phila-del-phia,'" he sang.
       "Oh, my God! Here we go," Jus said.
       "I'm buying that CD," Kyle said. "Just get ready. I don't remember any other words because I had never heard any of those songs before, but I'll be learning them."
       "Was this your favorite thing we've done so far?" Tim asked him.
       "Probably my second favorite. My first favorite was the FBI tour. Now that was something," he said.
       "I have to agree with you, Bubba. That was mighty good. I liked the stuff about the gangsters. The G-Men always get their man, that's for sure. Why do they call them G-Men, anyway? Does that stand for 'gangster men'?" he asked.
       "It stands for 'government men,' Jus," Tim said. "I read that somewhere on the tour."
       "I read that, too," I said.
       "Another place I really liked was where they made the money and the stamps," Justin said.
       "That was cool, too," Kyle said. "Course, I almost shit my pants when you asked them if they ever made any three dollar bills."
       All of us had laughed when Justin had asked that question, and we all laughed again when Kyle said that.
       "I just wanted to see what I was supposed to look like, that's all," Justin said.
       "I thought the International Spy Museum was mighty good, too. I learned about stuff I never even knew existed. Like the ring gun and the lipstick gun. That place might have been as good as the FBI, in fact."
       "I know. I loved that one," Jus said. "I never thought I'd say I loved a museum, but we've been seeing some great ones. Kyle, you knew what the hell you were doing when you picked these places out. I have to hand it to you, Bubba. What are we going to do tomorrow?"
       It was Thursday night, and the next day would be our last day in Washington. Our flight home was Saturday at ten o'clock in the morning.
       Kyle took a deep breath.
       "Bubba, you got any smokes on you?" he asked.
       I hadn't seen Kyle smoke a cigarette in weeks, and he seemed really nervous right then. He took a deep drag before he said anything.
       "Tomorrow, we're going to the United States Memorial Holocaust Museum. They have a special exhibit going on called 'The Nazi Persecution of Homosexuals,' and I think we all need to see it," he said.
       "Is this going to make us cry?" Tim asked.
       "Yes," Kyle said. "The Web site for it is unbelievably good, and I cried when I read it. I'm about to cry right now, too."
       "So let's don't go," Jus said.
       "No, we have to, Bubba," he said. "I thought about it a long time before I put it on the list, but do you remember what Cherie said when we went to the Civil Rights Museum in Birmingham? She said we have to see stuff like that so we won't let it happen again. Everybody knows the Jews took it hard in the Holocaust. In fact, that's all most people know about it. But thousands and thousands of gay men and boys just like us were savagely killed or worked to death. It's going to make us sad. That's true. But the fact that we're seeing it in the fucking capital of our country says we have the right to keep it from happening here. But we have to know about it to keep it from happening."
       "Is that going to take all day?" Justin asked.
       I could tell he wasn't interested in ending the trip on a downer, and, frankly, I wasn't either.
       "Nope. We end the trip with sports," Kyle said. "Tomorrow night we're going to the MCI Center to see the Washington Wizards play the Orlando Magic. We got great seats, too. Right behind the Wizards' bench, eight rows up. We're going to see Michael Jordan play basketball against Darrell Armstrong. I had to give my right nut to get 'em, too. "
       "I was wondering what had happened to it," Tim said.
       "Kyle told me you swallowed it," Justin said.
       We all laughed.
       "So how'd you get the tickets, Kyle?" Justin asked.
       "You don't even want to know," Kyle said.
       "Goddamn it, we do want to know, Kyle. How'd you get 'em?" Jus demanded.
       "I got 'em through a friend of my daddy, that's how," Kyle said.
       "Who's your daddy's friend? George Bush?" Justin asked.
       "Naw, he was fresh out," Kyle said. "Besides, Jeb is his friend, not George. He doesn't like George all that much. That man will pick his nose right in public and wipe it on his golf club. Any man who will treat a golf club like that cannot be my daddy's friend."
       People at the tables around us were listening like spies at a secret CIA meeting, only most of them were laughing. I knew that Kyle was carrying on, but I also knew there was probably some truth in what he was saying, too. I knew his parents knew Governor Jeb Bush and his wife, and it wouldn't surprise me one bit if Gene knew the president, too. And their dad, the former president.
       "So who's your daddy's friend?" Justin asked. "You better answer up, Kyle, because if you don't, I'm taking you outside and kicking your ass. You're making me frustrated, and I mean it."
       "Do you know who Senator Bob Graham is?" Kyle asked.
       "No, and neither do you, I bet," Justin said. "Who is he?"
       "He's the senator from Florida, dumbass," Kyle said.
       "We only got one?"
       "No, we have more than one, but he's the main one. He used to be governor a long time ago. He used to come to Emerald Beach from Tallahassee all the time, and that's when he and my dad got to be friends. You know that big-ass suite on the top floor of the Laguna? The one they call the Presidential Suite? My dad set that up for him. I mean, they rent it to other people, too, like to Mr. Jeb and his family, but if Mr. Bob wants it, it's his, no matter what," Kyle said.
       "Shit!" Justin said.
       "Excuse me. I couldn't help overhearing your conversation." It was a guy from the table next to us.
       "I'm sorry. We're talking way too loud," Kyle said. "That's just me. I can't help it. I get too excited, sometimes."
       "No, you weren't talking too loudly. I just happened to hear you say your father's friend got you tickets to the Wizards-Magic game, and that perked my ears up," he said. "By the way, I'm Scott Everitt, and I'm from Florida, too. Ft. Lauderdale."
       "Hi, Scott," Kyle said, shaking his hand. He introduced all of us. "Small world, isn't it?"
       "Smaller than you think, Kyle. I work for Senator Graham, and I'm the one who got those tickets for you," Scott said.
       I only rarely saw Kyle speechless, bu