Chapter Sixty-Eight
Questioning eventually revealed that the extent of Nicky's involvement with Fred and Banff was financial. The police weren't interested in prosecuting a minor drug-use charge and prostitution was always messy, so that matter of Nicky's involvement was dropped. While the county prosecutor had a political interested in pursuing the sex scandal possibilities – an election was coming up – the evidence, even if true, was questionable as well as refutable; besides the voters didn't much like witch-hunts. The meth lab shut down and its consequences, however, filled the news reports for a couple of days. The mother and daughter across Eagle Avenue decided that the climate in Nevada was inviting and escaped prosecution as well.
Fred and Banff, however, are expected to spend some time living at California's expense. There were some ritual protests that the state was being oppressive in the matter of victimless crimes and equally noisy protests that the crimes were hardly victimless.
Memories are short at least in the public's case. After a week, almost nobody cared. Their attention was taken up by a plan to re-landscape Rittler Park. Darren, however, was less forgetful, more judgemental, and much less forgiving than the public.
“I can't forget that look in your eyes, Nicky. Admit it. You wanted to kill me.”
“Baby, it was the drugs ...”
“Maybe it was and maybe it wasn't. It doesn't matter. I can't look at you the same way.”
“Couldn't we try?”
“I don't see it working, and, to be honest, I don't feel like investing the time to find out.”
Darren's attitude resulted from the forced realization that - for months – he regularly placed second and sometimes lower on Nicky's to-do list. Still he wasn't totally heartless; in effect he bought out Nicky's investment in their relationship, giving Nicky a respectabloe piece of change before throwing him out. It wasn't a lot of money, but if Nicky was careful, it would last a couple of months.
“Z would try, at least. Z would try to make it work.” That was Nicky's last argument. It was the wrong argument to make.
“I'm not Z. We may look alike, but we don't think alike. Besides, Z never would have messed with you in the first place.” Darren was not just burning bridges, he was salting the fields.
“What will I do?” Nicky sounded uncharacteristically pathetic.
“Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Nicky. You'll make somebody a perfect number two. That's a valuable skill. Just ask Morrie.”
The Islander had a room available. The Islander always had a room available; there was no waiting list for a room at the Islander ever. Nicky checked in with little more than what he was wearing for baggage. The tweaked-out clerk was used to that, all he wanted was three days paqyment in advance.
There was a pervasive dampness to the first floor room, a feeling that natural light had never penetrated. The all-weather furniture was made from some kind of plastic and designed to withstand drunks and violence. It was not designed for comfort. After the first night, Nicky concluded that, as cheap as the place was, it was still a rip-off for what was offered.
“Nash, you guys got any work? I'm looking for something part-time and I kind of liked almost being a flight attendant.” Nicky swallowed his pride and asked his former assistant for a job of any kind.
“I'll need to talk to Steve,” Nash replied. “Why don't you stop over?”
An hour later Nicky regretted his eagerness. By foot, it was a healthy walk from the dungeons of the Islander to the hangar at the Oakland Airport, and lately Nicky's life had not been all that healthy. Even under the cooling cover of broken clouds he was sweating before he got to the golf course at Harbor Bay, about half way to his destination. He slowed his pace, knowing it would make his arrival slightly later than the time Nash had suggested.
“What happened? Did you swim?” Nash asked, ignoring the tardiness but noticing the sweat..
“I walked. It's a great day for walking, just a little sunnier than I expected.”
“Nicky, can I be honest?” Nash had a concerned look. “You look like shit.”
“I could say I'm entitled, but I won't. I'm actually looking better. You should have seen me when I was in jail.” No sense trying to hide what Nash already knew.
“You sound like my father,” Nash grinned.
“The only advice I can offer is never get yourself suspected of killing a cop.”
“Yeah, well that's over with, thank God.”
“Nice to see you're still religious,” Nicky countered jauntily.
“So … specifically …,” Nash got down to business. “I could use some help making twenty-three box lunches. We're not flying that many passengers, but they want something for a bigger group of fishermen. Steve's flying half of them to a camp ground on the Truckee.” Nicky looked mystified. “The Truckee is a river, Nicky. Supposed to be good fishing. Steel balls or something.”
Steve came out of the office. “Steel HEADS,” he corrected. “Bigger than regular trout, smaller than salmon. Fun to catch, better to eat. How's it goin', Nicky?”
Nicky shrugged in reply, washed the sweat off his arms and hands, and got busy. Making sandwiches was better than sitting in the Islander jacking off. It was a good looking sandwich that Nash had designed, too, using some sour dough baguettes and a variety of fillers. Nicky's stomach rumbled.
“Have you had lunch?” Nash asked. “Make a couple extra. We can eat, too.” Nash was packing the boxes with sandwiches, chips, and drinks. “Does this make you feel like you're working at a Subway?”
“I'm glad to be doing it,” Nicky answered.
“Nicky, Steve and I are thinking about getting married. You know, whenever it becomes legal. What do you think?”
“Oh, man, don't ask me. It's totally up to you.”
“I'm thinking, yes, some day, whenever it's legal and all ...” Nash didn't sound too invested in the idea. “It means a lot to Steve. Would you have married Darren?”
“I don't know. Maybe ... yes, I probably would have. It would have been a mistake, though.”
“Poof! Just like that!” Andrew said. “They seemed like a stable couple, too. Now ...” Andrew shrugged at fate.
“It's hard to judge. I thought Z and Eric were a stable couple, but ...” Seth shrugged back. “Darren's nothing like Z, though. Totally different.”
“Darren? I was talking about Neil and Jerry.” Andrew was reading something with lots of fine print. “They were so close to marriage, and now … everything's a mess. Financially, I mean. This is some stuff Jody gave me about civil partnerships.”
“Jody?” Seth questioned. Lemuel's ears picked up at hearing his father's name.
“He's a pretty good lawyer, you know. More than pretty good. And he's cheap.” Andrew was being serious. “Jody says that getting married is kind of no man's land right now. Supposedly, if we went to Washington and got hitched, California would recognize it, but the law is untested. He thinks we should enter into a civil partnership for legal reasons, and then, if we want, go to Canada or someplace for a ceremonial wedding, that might or might not count. But, and this is what we want, Lem would have known and tested rights no matter what under the civil partnership arrangement.”
“You're being awfully clinical, Andrew. Where's the romance? I want to be swept off my feet,” Seth countered.
“Are you serious? Or are you just teasing me?” Andrew was very serious.
“I'm … Hmm. I don't know, exactly.” Seth got serious, too. “I mean as long as we're getting married, it might as well be …” He stopped and thought. “But, for Lem's sake ...” He stopped again. “Not a simple decision, I guess.”
“I want a wedding,” Lem said. “I want to be the ring bearer. Speedy was a ring bearer and got a bicycle out of it.”
“Speedy?”
“My cousin. The one who ran into the telephone pole and … I don't know, something happened. My parents kept saying, 'Poor Jonas.' That's his real name. Poor Jonas. Something's wrong with him now. They won't tell me what.”
“Under a civil partnership,” Andrew pulled Lem close to his side and continued, “we would each have rights of survivorship, legal protections for Lem, we could own property jointly without all the extra powers of attorney and corporate registrations, we could split up with known consequences ...”
“Split up?”
“It happens. Now I'm talking about Darren and what's-his-name.”
“Nicky,” Seth filled in, thinking again about that break up. “What if they had a child?”
“Exactly,” Andrew inserted. “We can't just be sentimental. We have to be practical. Jody says this marriage equality stuff is fine and all, but the legal aspects are … well, 'untested' - that was his word.”
“Would I love a civil partner as much as a husband?” Seth wondered.
“Partner … husband … They're just names, aren't they. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
“You no fuckin' rose, Andrew,” Seth laughed and threw a cushion at his non-floral lover.
“Watch the potty mouth,” Andrew cautioned, looking at Lem who was rolled up in laughter.
Jackson and Li stopped in Amsterdam on their way back to Emeryville and got married on the theory that they had never done it before and it made the rest of the trip seem like a honeymoon. The choice of going to Ireland for a honeymoon was dubious, but at least the sex was immediately better.
“You like the idea of fucking a husband. I can tell,” Jackson said. “You're dick is bigger since we got married.”
“Bigger? I could say your ass tightened up. It's the same thing.”
“So you agree. The fuckin' is better.” Jackson was as clinical as a scientist.
“I like it because it's more often. Now we fuck all the time. I have rights to your body.”
“Bull shit. We fuck all the time because Ireland is even colder than San Francisco. It's fuck or freeze here. The friction heats up the bed.”
Their union was surprisingly blissful for the duration of their Irish honeymoon. It was fun back in Amsterdam for a few days, too, where the fucking was mixed with some herbal enhancements.
The challenge came on the plane to New York. The flight attendant was not a young man, he was a middle-aged veteran; but he was blond and in great physical shape. After the meal service was over, Jackson flirted a little while Li dozed off.
“Is it true that Dutchmen wear wooden shoes, Joost?” he asked, eying the FA's nametag.
“Some do, the way some Americans wear cowboy hats,” Joost answered.
“But cowboy hats are practical,” Jackson said, blatantly checking out the FA's tight uniform.
“So are wooden shoes,” the FA countered, just as blatantly adjusting the front of his trousers. “Did you enjoy your stay in Amsterdam?”
“I liked those fat Dutch sausages, Joost,” Jackson said, never taking his eyes off the front of the FA's pants and calling him by name again.
Nothing could happen on the plane. The flight attendants stayed busy and the lavatory in coach was impossibly small, but arrangements were made for later. Room 3217 of the Times Square Hilton was designated for meeting.
At first Li was resistant to the idea. For one thing, Jackson had not consulted him before making the arrangements with Joost. For another, he was still annoyed, piqued by the insensitivity of the immigration agent who brusquely informed him that the United States does not recognize foreign gay marriages.
The Dutch FA broke the ice by referring to Li as a rijstaffel, a Dutch term for an extensive Indonesian buffet. Any possibility of that being a racial slur was overwhelmed by the skilled eating habits of the flight attendant, who savored every inch of Li. Jackson sat and watched, playing with his cock idly.
“This was your idea,” Li said to Jackson. “Join in,” he demanded, a demand he regretted as the threesome explored different aspects of sex. With Joost temporarily the odd man out and Jackson having a little problem with insertion, and Li impatiently called out, “Just shove it in, damn it.”
Joost in his excitement thought that he heard his name and decided that was a demand for him to shove it in. Li quickly learned he actually could take two cocks at once. It wasn't fun for anyone, but it was an accomplishment that Jackson wanted repeated on himself, saying that husbands should have equal rights in a marriage.
Joost was shocked. “You're married?” Suddenly he became reluctant to continue.
“That's ok, it's doesn't even count,” Jackson assured him.
“It doesn't?” Li was hurt.
“Of course not,” Jackson laughed. Joost shrugged indifferently and shoved his cock in a new hole.
“I thought it meant ...” Li continued.
“Fucking rights. Well, you got 'em. What are you waiting for?” Jackson asked, panting in his effort to accommodate the fat Dutch sausage. Li's attitude hardened and he added his cock to the action. He said something in Chinese that sounded like a threat. Jackson gasped in pain.
The exotic nature of the Chinese threat and Jackson's pain combined to get Joost off. His cock popped out spewing semen on both husbands. Eventually everybody got off, but it wasn't much fun.
“Lousy sex,” Li said to Jackson after Joost was gone.
“Still, it was pretty good,” Jackson decided.
“I guess so. Now, what about the marriage.”
“That was pretty good too, wasn't it? Fun going through with it. The honeymoon and all. It kinda felt like the real thing.”
“It's over?”
“Well, yeah, it's over! What did you think was happening?”
Li shrugged. “Does my ass still feel tight to you?”
Jackson probed with a finger. “Not so much right now. Joost was a man of real girth.”
“A fat Dutch sausaqe, you called him. I don't think he actually liked that so much.” Li pulled away from Jackson's finger. “You want to have the marriage certificates framed? We could hang them in the office for laughs.”
Jackson ignored Li's bitterness. “Good idea, I'm glad we got the ones with the picture of the Queen on them. Wait 'til Mark sees them. He's gonna want one.”
Li tried to sleep. Jackson's snoring was loud. That and the apparent end of his marriage were double disappointments. What a huge mistake! He wondered if a formal divorce was necessary. Probably not, unless he decided to live in the Netherlands some day. He pulled the blanket up to his chin and felt relieved. Double penetrations were no fun.
“Brian, you said … once a week. You said we'd do it once a week.” Walden luxuriated in the big new bed, stretching his full length out and then returning to Brian's side. He put his hand on Brian's chest and felt the rhythmic rise and fall.
“Yes, I thought you agreed.”
“I did, but, Brian, we're doing it like every day.”
“Don't you like it?”
“I LOVE it! Especially when it's like today.” Walden didn't want to say the actual words, afraid he would end the magic that finally got Brian to top him. “What changed?”
“Well, you liked it, right? ” Brian enumerated. “I liked it,” he continued. “And,” he paused. Should I tell him, he wondered.
“And?” Walden coaxed.
“And … I can't get it up for Ann. She's understanding and all, but … I don't know what to do. Is it the pregnancy? I heard pregnancy does change things. I feel different in a way I can't describe.”
“My dad said having kids is the best form of birth control. I think he meant he wasn't getting much after the three of us were born.”
“Plus ...”
“Plus what?“ Walden was puzzled by Brian's admission. He carefully pushed for more. It wasn't like Brian to talk about this stuff.
“You're growing on me.” A monumental admission. Walden held his breath while Brian continued. “I think, at first, you kind of charged me up and I would translate that into sex with Ann. But now … you're … Aaaargh! This conversation is torture!” He hid his embarrassment by burying his face in Walden's side.
Brian calmed himself down and pushed on. ”Sex with you is … I'm totally satisfied with you. In fact, I'm wiped out by you. You use me up, Walden. You're the complete deal. Maybe that's why I can't get it up with Ann.” He stopped talking and the silence grew. Only their hands communicated as they touched.
“Do you want to stop?” Walden asked.
“No, I don't think I could stop. I want what we're doing. I haven't felt like that since ...” He left the thought hanging. They never discussed their prison experiences, sexual or otherwise. “I'm thinking I should probably … let Ann divorce me.” It was said. Brian sighed out of relief, something huge was off his chest.
“Bri ...” Walden hugged him out of sympathy. “Man, that's a huge decision.”
“I know. So huge I'm afraid to think about where it goes or what comes next. ”
“But ...”
“I'm scared ... I feel the way I did before Ann and I got married, but it's about you. I'm all squishy inside and nothing makes sense and it's weird because I don't know what you are gonna think about any of this and I probably should have kept my mouth shut.” He paused for a breath. “That's what I should have done – kept my mouth shut.”
Sex can say things better than words sometimes. Walden tried with his body to let Brian know he loved him. Their sex combined sweetness and passion in amounts that rose and fell as they proceeded. In the end Walden felt that deep hard thrusts sent the best message. He was right. Brian welcomed him, eager for a connection that included the spice of pain.
“So fuckin' huge ...” Brian sighed, pulling Walden as far into himself as he could. “So … fuckin' … yeah, come for me ...” Brian felt full of Walden, full to overflowing.
Brian waited for Walden to calm down. “That was so good it was scary,” he told Walden with a kiss.
“I know. Love is scary,” Walden answered. “Way riskier than gambling.”
“Are you saying you love me?” Brian asked. It was a straight question, Walden couldn't tell what kind of answer Brian was waiting for.
“I'm saying I'm scared to death Bri.”
“Me, too.”
“Everybody wants free legal advice,” Jody complained. He slowly rose, walked very carefully over to a bench and began putting his clothes on. “You always leave my ass sore, Adan.”
“You love it.” Adan was taking no shit, besides it was true. He pealed off the condom and chucked it into a wastebasket where it joined others with a muffled plop. “Doesn't anybody ever empty this thing?” Adan didn't even try to guess the number of used condoms he was looking at.
“Seth used to. Isn't it your job now? You're the Lord High Vice President for Procurement and Everything Else.”
“Everything else shouldn't mean emptying the trash.” Adan sniffed.
“Somebody's got to do it. The 'talent' ain't going to.” Jody referred to himself and the other performers. “So, yes, to answer your romantic question. The domestic partnership law does provide for community property, lacking any prenuptial agreement to the contrary,.” Jody explained. “ 'Spread your legs, baby. What about community property?' ” he mimicked Adan's question. “Such romantic foreplay. Are you planning to partner with somebody?”
“Jody. I'm a student on a student visa. I'm not allowed to.”
“Yes, you are,” Jody explained the law to Adan. Adan lpaid attention, but it was something he already knew. He wanted confirmation; he listened while wiping off his still-swollen cock. Jody concluded his legal advice and asked, “How many times can you come a day?”
“As many as I need to,” Adan said.
“Guess a number,” Jody probed.
“Five once, but I was really young that time.”
“And the other guy came five times, too?”
“Three other guys,” Adan answered finishing tying his shoes.
Jody was quiet and considered the reply. “That's hot,” he answered finally as he watched the studio vice president leave without emptying the trash. With some time to spare he decided to take a shower before his scheduled scene partner arrived.
As he dried off, Chris came in to see him. “Seth has some stuff for you to look at,” he said, leaving a slim folder at Jody's side. “It's about the rights their kid would have if they tried to dispose of assets.”
“Their kid? He's my kid. They're just taking care of him,” Jody protested.
“Yeah, whatever ...” Chris turned to go.
“Um, Chris. Have you ever thought of getting into a domestic partnership?”
“Funny you should ask ...” Chris said.
It's none of my business, Jody thought as he listened to Chris's talk about his budding relationship with Adan. Just state the findings in case law. Don't get into it, he told himself. But he had to get into it; he felt the conflict. Should I be loyal to the guy who gave me the coolest job ever working in porn or be loyal to the guy who's currently fucking me? Chris or Adan? Man, I don't need that to come up in an ethics hearing. I'm still getting over the stink over Lemuel. Just stay out of it, Jody. Just stay out of it.
Staying out of it, he said, “You know, Chris, that's really not my field. I'm more a commercial code guy. That domestic partnership stuff gets into a different area of the law. Pretty specialized stuff.”
“But isn't it just another contract? Liquidated damages and all that?”
“Not really. Well, sort of, but not really.”
“Typical legal advice,” Chris said with a laugh. “The best thing about a one-armed lawyer ...” Chris began.
“...there's none of that 'on the other hand' stuff,” Jody finished the old joke. Legal discussion over.
“So we have this new guy, Jody. He's pretty big. I thought you'd like to see how a scene with him might go.”
“Pretty big?” Jody tried to hide his excitement; it was a good thing he let Adan prep his asshole. “You know me, Chris. Whatever you need. Should I get dressed or just wait?”
“Up to you,” Chris said and began checking lights and cameras for any needed refocusing.
Timing made Jody's action irrelevant. The new model came in. Jody watched him undress and got an erection just thinking about their scene.
“Are you gonna be my partner?” the guy asked. He pulled on his cock, shaking it free.
“I hope so,” Jody said, taking his hands away trying to hide his erection.
“They call me 'Hoss'.” The guy grinned and tugged on his cock again. It had grown substantially. “How we gonna play this? Boyfriends? Raw sex?”
“How about boyfriends having raw sex?” Jody proposed. “So, we should rehearse a little, right?” Jody waited for an answer and sampled the heft of Hoss's cock.
“Any limits?” Hoss asked. He put his hand over Jody's and jacked himself; his cock didn't get much bigger but it got thicker and much harder.
“Just one. Marriage is not gonna happen,” Jody joked.
“We'll see about that,” Hoss smiled.
In the Alameda stories, no; they're about my friends. 
Mmmmm. . . Gingerrr 
*Makes note to check and see how "Easy" Rory is, the next time he's inside the beltway*
