The Families in Rossford

[ChrisGibson]

I think several things, and these are guesses because the story is already written and I don't remember what happens, but no one is going to tell Meredith a damn thing. I wondered if remembered Charlie from book three. I think companionship is just what both Meredith and Kenny need,and it will be great for them, and isn't it something that, though living in Chicago with Kenny was wrong, living there with Sheridan works out? It just all depends on who you're with. Well, more of our friends on Thursday, and for tomorrow, we'll be getting back to Cade and Donovan.

 

[ChrisGibson]

“Well, that’s a great idea,” Dena decided. “Cause you don’t really want to go back to Chicago anyway.”
“It’s a great idea if Max and I can work out something about the house,” Meredith said.
“Is he still paying the mortgage?”
“Max is still just not around. We have a joint account and I guess he puts money in it. We always had a direct pay out of our account for the house.”
Bill cleared his throat and Meredith got ready for what he was about to say.
“This had been a terrible time for you,” he said. “But the time has come to handle things with Max.”
Meredith opened her mouth and Bill said, “Not the marriage thing. That’s over. But with the money. You need to get that worked out. Which means I will.”
“Dad.”
“He doesn’t want to see you, but he has to see your accountant,” Bill told her. “Now, that’s not a matter of love; that’s just business.”
“He’s right,” Charlie said.
“Of course he is,” Meredith acknowledged.
“And then we can work on getting Sheridan and Bren into that house,” Bill continued. “If you guys are really serious about it?”
“I think we’re serious,” Sheridan looked at Brendan.
“We’re possibly sort of definitely serious,” Brendan said, touching Sheridan’s shoulder. “We just thought of it today. We really need to go up and visit.”
Bill nodded.
“But whatever they do,” he told Meredith, “we need to take care of this.”
There was a tap at the door, and Kenny said, “Well, who now?”
“Only one way to find out,” Bren answered, and got up to open the door.
He let the woman and a young boy in with courtesy but obvious confusion, and as they entered Charlie stood up.
Dena and Milo looked at each other, but Charlie said, “Meg?”
“Yes,” Meg told her. “Meredith, I’m glad to meet you,” she said quickly and sincerely. “And I hate to intrude, but I don’t have keys to the house, and I knew Charlie would.”
Charlie reached into his pocket saying, “I told you I’d get you a spare set.”
“And I told you it’s your house now.”
“But remember I—” Charlie stopped, looking around. “Nevermind. Here’s the key. Why aren’t you at you place?”
“Youngest left her homework on your desk. Ed’s nowhere to be found.”
“You’d love Ed,” Meredith said. “He looks a hell of a lot like Dylan. Nothing like him, though.”
Charlie handed her the keys and Meg said, “Thanks, Charlie. Scuse me all,” jingling the keys as she prepared to leave.
“Meg,” Meredith called. “Why don’t you get your daughter out of the car, then stay and eat?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Of course you could,” Charlie said with a frown. “You’ve been hinting at meeting Meredith for weeks.”
Meg shrugged. “Well, I guess.”
“There’s a girl, stop pretending you feel bad for intruding,” Charlie pulled up a chair between him and Bill.
“Well,” Dena commented, “that’s an amicable divorce.”
“Don’t be fooled,” Meg told her. “We’re sweet because we’re so happy not to be married to each other.”

“And then Liam lived happily ever after,” Layla told him.
“With the King and the Queen?”
“That’s right,” Layla said to the boy in her arms.
“Layla, am I really going to be here forever?”
“You sure will. And me and Will will be your mommy and daddy.”
The phone rang, “And my crazy friends will never stop calling. Ease up. Let me get that.”
Liam nodded and rolled out of Layla’s lap.
“Hello,” she said.
“You’ll never believe this?”
“I’m hearing that a lot tonight.”
“Meg Callan is here.”
“Meg Callan. Wait, is that the girl who—?”
“We bilked out of a ton of money.”
“As memory serves, Fenn gave her a lot of shit.”
“But Noah wanted to give it all to her. Well, you know she married Charlie.”
“I knew she dated Charlie. Sort of. They were at Mom’s wedding.”
“Right. Well, she’s eating with us right now.”
“This is the most awkward fucking dinner party I’ve ever heard of,” Layla said.
When she came back to the sofa Liam was clapping his hands with glee.
“What, Liam?”
“First, can I call you Mommy?”
“Of course you can.”
Liam clapped his hands again and enthused, “Mommy, you swear so good!”



“See, I think that’s interesting,” Meg was saying. “Because you all must know Fenn Houghton and his friends.”
“Well, we are his friends.”
“My brother is partnered with him,” Nell explained.
“Oh,” Meg said, amazed. “He was the one who helped me find out about my father and put my hands on a lot of money. I mean, he was really good to me.”
“And your dad was the only family you had?” Meredith said.
“Well, no, there was my mother. She lived around this place called East Carmel.”
“Get out!” Milo said, “We’ve got friends from there.”
“And then my sister,” Meg said. “She’s older. Kind of nuts. Her life is totally out of hand. She lived here for a bit, in fact.”
“I’m surprised we don’t know her,” Dena said, picking up on Milo’s mood which was, apparently, to put out of his mind hiding the rest of the money from Meg all those years ago.
“I’m surprised you don’t too,” Meg said. “Eileen was hard to not notice.”
“I think I’ve only know two Eileens,” Bill said. “And they were both in New York.”
“Well, I never met an Eileen Callan,” Nell said.
“Oh, no,” Meg shook her head. “She hated Dad. I was so young when he left. She was much older. She took Mom’s maiden name to spite him. I haven’t seen her in years, but I think she was here a little while back. Only now her name’s Eileen Wehlan.”
Dena choked on her food and began coughing so hard Milo had to hit her on the back so she would cough up a crouton.
“Water!” Dena rasped. “Water.”
“Is she alright?” Meg stood up, pushing her chair away.
“I think so,” Milo told her.
“Nothing a good phone call wouldn’t cure.”

“This has been the oddest night,” Dena said while they were on their way home.
They had just picked up the children from Claire and Julian’s, and now Milo drove down Demming to their house.
“And so Eileen Wehlan is Meg’s sister?” Milo said.
“That appears to be the case,” Dena said.
“We should tell that to Fenn.”
“I should call Layla.”
“But not tonight.”
“No,” Dena agreed. “There’s lots to tell her, but it would take a little more than that for me to trouble her tonight.”
“Ah,” Milo sighed as they came onto Harris Street, and then went up the driveway.
“Home at last.”
They parked outside of the garage and Rob said, “Mom, what’s that?”
“What’s wha—? ” Dena began, but at the same time Milo said, “What the hell?” Then: “Rob, don’t walk over that.”
Each of the triple windows before the kitchen, every little pane in the mullioned door, the picture window that looked into the living room were all shattered, and the glass lay on the walk before them.
Across the front of the house was spray painted the phrase:

IT AIN’T OVER BITCH !

“Oooooh,” Rob murmured, reading the letters, black like a wound against the white of the house.
“We have to call the police,” Milo said.
“No,” Dena said, calmly. “Get me a ladder, Miles.”
“Dena—”
“Milo,” Dena waved him off. “Please. Just get me the fucking ladder.”
“Mommy!”
“Forgive it, Baby,” Dena said, kissing him.
She moved around the glass, opened the front door, and told Rob, “Wake Cara and bring her out of the car. Mom’s going to go in here and make sure things are safe.”
The house was freezing. Glass was all over the living room floor and, Dena assumed, the kitchen as well. Otherwise things seemed safe enough. She went upstairs, checked around, and then put the kids in their rooms and came back down where Milo had the ladder up.
“Alright,” Dena murmured. “Alright,” she said.
She climbed up and then, out of the eaves behind the old bird nest, Dena jiggled something, then descended with what Milo now saw was a camera.
“I’m going to get this bitch myself,” Dena said, triumphantly.
“What bitch?” Milo said.
Jiggling out the tape, Dena said, “You’ll see. You’ll see. But I need to make a phone call.”
“Layla?”
“And Meredith,” Dena said. “We’re going to go back into the den where it’s not freezing and learn the truth.”
“I’m going to call the police,” Milo said.
“Look,” he added, “whatever strange aversion you have to the Po-Po, we need to call them so we can see who can board this house up and make it safe tonight. We’re totally exposed right now.”


“You’re not focusing,” Dylan said.
“I can’t focus,” Elias closed the book.
They sat on the floor of Dylan’s bedroom at Tom and Lee’s, and Dylan said, “What’s going on?”
Elias looked like he was thinking it over, and then he said, “You have to promise to not repeat this.”
Dylan nodded.
“Bennett thinks he got a girl pregnant.”
“What!”
“You know that Maggie?”
“Not her! She’s a skank.”
“Well, no, not her,” Elias said. “But her friend, Maris. He had sex with her on New Years.”
“I think I remember that being a definite possibility. The night me and Lance came and got you.”
“Right.
“And then she told him she was pregnant, and I think she rigged the whole thing to trick him. When I came home the other day you should have seen him. He was so unhappy. He was crying so hard. He thought Maia would leave him.”
“She would,” Dylan said simply.
“And he was just so terrified. I told him I’d help him get to the bottom of it. And that he really shouldn’t believe everything everybody says.”
And you really think she’s lying?”
“Dylan, I know she is.”
“You want me to help you?”
“No,” Elias told him. “No, I got this. Just offer me… emotional support.”
Dylan touched his hand and kissed him on the cheek.
“I will,” Dylan said. “But if you need me to help you shake her down…. I will.”

“I thought you might be a little mad for me calling,” Dena confessed as Layla sat down on the sofa beside her.
“Not at all,” Layla said, seriously. “This little girl has gone over the top.”
“You’re so sure you know who it is?” Charlie Palmer said. He had brought Meredith over, but she looked at him behind her sister’s back and just shrugged.
“I know it’s that girl,” Dena said.
“And I still don’t know who this girl is,” Milo said.
Meanwhile Dena, who sat on the floor, close to the television, rewound until she saw a form.
“There!” she said, triumphantly.
She went through the tape, the form unsmashing windows, undamaging the house, and then she wound back a little bit.
“And here we go,” she said.
The fire department had arrived to board up the windows, and they were tapping on them now while, on her television, Dena saw the front of her house and then lights, perhaps the headlights of a car. The lights went out leaving only the light of the porch. A hooded figure arrived with a hammer and a can of spray paint.
“That doesn’t really look like a girl,” Meredith said, doubtfully.
Dena stared at her sister.
“I’m just saying…”
The figure began knocking out windows methodically, turning back now and again to see if anyone was coming. This went on for some time before he—it was definitely a he—
“I don’t believe it!” Dena said.
He took out the can of spray paint and began doing his work, but he wore a cap under his hoodie and Dena prayed, “Let me see him. Please, let me see him.”
He did all of his work while Dena begged for some way to know him, and then, at the very end, an answer, he looked directly up into the camera.
“Dylan Mesda?” Dena said at the same time Layla opened her mouth.
“That’s not my cousin,” Layla said at last, as the nervous boy looked away.
Meredith turned to Charlie. His eyes were wide in his head, but his mouth was twisted in disgust.
“No,” Meredith agreed, “but it is Dylan’s cousin.”
“What?” Dena began.
“That’s Edward,” Charlie said. “That’s my son.”

“We could have handled this in the morning,” Meredith said as they drove to Charlie’s house.
Charlie did not look angry. In this regard he reminded Meredith of her father.
“No, we cannot wait to make wrongs right,” Charlie told her. “In the morning I’ll send the glazer over to work on Dena and Milo’s windows, and see how much that will cost, but tonight we’re going to hold Edward accountable.”
They had to knock on the door because Meg had the key, and when she saw them she said, “What are you all still doing up?”
“You need to put this in,” Charlie told her, handing Meg the tape. “Where is Ed?”
“Upstairs in bed.”
“Well,” Charlie said, “it’s time to wake him up.”

Edward sat between his parents dumbfounded.
“Why?” Charlie asked him.
Edward said nothing.
“You heard your father,” Meg smacked him on the back of the head. “What the hell did you do this for? You just met those people. That’s Meredith’s sister!”
“I’m sorry, Meredith,” Edward looked at her miserably.
“That’s nice,” Meredith said, doubtfully, “but it still doesn’t answer the question why you would knock out my sister’s windows.”
When Edward still said nothing, Meg, who was in no mood to be trifled with, said, “I feel a smack upside the head coming on again.”
“It was Maggie!” Edward said, suddenly. “Maggie asked me to do it. And she asked me to let her know when Dena was leaving so she could find her and put the sugar in her gas tank.”
“Well,” Meredith said while Meg Callan smacked Edward on the head and he whimpered.
“Megan,” Charlie reprimanded.
Meg smacked him again for good measure.
“Seems like I may owe my sister an apology,” Meredith acknowledged. Then she said, “Edward, you need to tell me as much about this Maggie as you can.”


UM,THINGS JUST GOT JUICCCCCCY! MORE SUNDAY AFTERNOON

 

[CharmedFan28]

Things did get juicy at the end there! It sounds like Maggie is in a whole lot of trouble. I can hardly wait to see what happens next. Great writing and I look forward to more in a few days! Have a wonderful weekend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Oh, Maggie is about to meet a great deal of trouble. There's going to be so much more juice on the other side of this weekend. But until then, cheers. Have a great time.

 

[ChrisGibson]

AND NOW.... THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES


When Maris shut her locker door the next morning, she almost jumped in the air.
“Elias!”
“We should talk,” he told her.
Maris looked nervous, but said, “You know, I’m on my way to class, so maybe we could talk a little later.”
“We could talk now,” Elias said, stepping in front of her.
“Elias—”
“We could talk about who put that baby in your belly, and if it’s really my brother’s, and all the harm you could be doing if it isn’t—and I don’t believe it is. We could talk about how when he tells everyone it will ruin his world. He was being stupid though. But we could talk about how I will plant it in my parents’ heads that you can’t be completely trusted, and they will know that this baby is going to need some testing done to see who the father really is.”
“Maris!” Maggie called coming down the hall.
She walked quickly, Lindsay behind her, and suddenly she stopped.
“Elias.”
“Maggie,” he gave her a tight smile.
“I have to go,” Maris said, uncertainly
“That’s fine,” Elias said. “Cause really, we just talked about everything that was important.”
He gave her a small smile, looked at the three girls, said, “Ladies,” and then, saluting them, walked in the other direction.
“What was that all about?” Maggie hissed.
“He’s onto us,” Maris said, shaking her head.
“You need to tell the truth,” Lindsay told her.
“Oh, fuck that,” Maggie said. “We need to be proactive.”
“Proactive?” Lindsay turned to her.
“Yeah,” Maggie said. “Don’t worry. I can take care of it. I don’t mind raising a little bit of hell.”
The girls followed her down the hall. Maris could only think about the child she was carrying, and its possible futures, but Lindsay was thinking about how Maggie’s rages were boundless, and she murmured, “That’s what worries me.”

“Here’s the thing,” Bennett told her over lunch. “I really care about you.”
“I hope you do,” Maia dipped a fry in ketchup.
“No, I’m serious,” Bennett told her, touching her hand.
“Alright,” Maia laughed and resisted her natural reaction to take her hand back.
“It took us so long to get together, and I don’t want anything to ruin it.”
“Bennett, hold on,” Maia sat up. “Time out.
“We are not a show on the CW. You are sixteen and I am too. It didn’t take us a long time to get together, and unless you killed somebody or embezzled some money or something, I don’t know what would ruin it.”
“People do stupid things is all,” Bennett said, looking worried, as he took his hand back.
“Alright, Bennett, now you are worrying me.”
He swallowed. He looked very lost right now and he said, “I need to take you back to school.”
Maia opened her mouth and then closed it.
Maybe her parents were right. Maybe her mother was right she thought as she took Bennett’s tray with hers and dumped both of their contents into the trash can. Maybe being a lesbian was the answer. Or was she headed for years of this weirdness?
She came back, took her book bag, and slipped it over her shoulder.
“Don’t forget to put your seatbelt on,” Bennett told her as they got into the car.
Maia obeyed, thinking of something funny to say and refraining. She needed to talk this over with Laurel although, God knows, the girl had troubles of her own.
They drove back to Saint Barbara’s in silence, Bennett’s brow knitted, his eyes troubled.
“You need to talk to me,” Maia said. “Damnit, you know I’m not good on the emotions thing, but you need to spill.”
“I will,” Bennett told her. There was a red light on Birmingham, and now they sat.
“I promise I will. Soon. But I just don’t want you to think I don’t love you. No matter what you hear, I don’t want you to think that.”


When he dropped her off, he kissed her, and Maia squeezed his hand, but she couldn’t take his troubles too seriously. After all, how bad could things be?
“I’ll see you later tonight,” she said as she turned away and walked past the chain link fence, her mittened hands running over it, and then through the gate past the playground. Dylan and Laurel were coming toward her from the little porch where they had been watching, and Maia said, “Bennett is being weird as hell.”
Dylan and Laurel looked at each other, and Maia fancied for a moment that they knew something, but she disregarded this.
“I’m sure it’s not a big deal,” Laurel said quickly, and Dylan nodded. But just then several things happened.
A car squealed up to the sidewalk and stopped at the path that led through the chain link fence that surrounded the parking lot and play area of Saint Barbara’s.
Out of it sprang Maggie Biggs, triumphant, and behind her came Lindsay and Maris.
Dylan’s hand tightened on Maia’s wrist.
“We need to go,” he said.
“What for?” Maia began.
“Is that—?” Laurel started, turning to Dylan. Then she said. “Yes, let’s go.”
“Well, I guess,” Maia said, shrugging. But even she noticed that the girls were coming for them.
“Are you Maia?” Maggie demanded.
Maia turned around.
“Yes, I am. I’ve seen you before.”
“I’m Maggie Biggs.”
“You need to leave,” Dylan moved in front of Maia.
“Easy, Fido,” Maggie said. “I just have some information to drop on Miss Maia.”
But just then the second thing happened.
Three police cars, lights whirring, rolled behind and before Maggie’s car.
“Ooooh,” Lindsay moaned while Maggie turned around and wondered aloud, “What the—?”
“Margaret Biggs,” one of the cops said, coming toward the children.
“That’s her,” Dylan said.
“Thanks Dylan,” the cop said, and Laurel wondered how he knew Dylan and, since he wasn’t entirely bad looking, she wondered if they’d slept together, and then put that out of her mind.
“What’s going on?” Maggie demanded.
“What’s going on,” the policeman began, handcuffing her, “is you are being arrested for vandalization, felony, endangerment, robbery, harassment and assault. Come on down to the station,” he said, taking her toward the car. “We got some nice folks who’d love to talk to you.”
As they hauled her off, the others heard the cops begin, “You have the right to remain silent…”
“Good luck with that,” Lindsay murmured.
Maris looked at her.
“She is bad news,” Lindsay said, simply.
“But what did she have to say to me?” Maia asked Maris.
Dylan was looking hard at Maris, not angrily, just like if he looked at her long enough, behind his sort of sister’s back, then she would forget the reason she had come.
But again, it was Lindsay who spoke.
“Who knows what’s in Maggie’s head? I’m sure it doesn’t matter. She’s got other things to think about now. We need to get back to school.”
“But how?” Maris said stupidly.
Lindsay jerked her thumb behind them.
“Maggie left her car.”

“I would just like to know why?” Milo said simply.
Milo and Dena, her arms crossed over her breasts, sat on the other side of the table from Maggie and a police officer. Dena looked around, remembering the last time she had been in here, years ago, when she was this girl’s age and she had laid Kenny McGrath flat while he was working as a cashier at Martin’s.
“As far as we know,” Milo said, “we never did you any harm.”
“Maybe you didn’t, but your wife’s a fucking bitch.”
“Hey!” Milo started.
“Hey yourself,” Maggie returned, though considerably restrained by Milo’s voice, the tug of the policeman on her arm and Dena’s face.
“She came out and harassed me—”
“When you had been sitting outside of my house staring at me and my children.”
“And then the other night when I asked to meet you,” she told Milo, “she threw me out and probably didn’t even give you the message.”
Milo looked at his wife, but then he looked at the girl.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked Dena, “and why were you even looking for me?”
“I bet,” Maggie continued, “she thought I wanted to fuck you. Maybe she thought I was fucking you. Is that it, Dena? I can call you Dena, right?”
“You can call me Mrs. Affren.”
“Well, anyway,” Maggie continued, “Dena over here must have been afraid I was sucking your dick—”
“Little girl, that’s enough,” the policeman said the same time Milo said, “Call her Mrs. Affren.”
“You are protective of your missus, aren’t you?” Maggie said. “And I guess looking at something like me—I’m kind of hot, and you’re not bad either, Mr. Affren—your wife would imagine us together. But you wanna know a secret?”
No one seemed willing to humor her.
“Well, do you?” Maggie said again. She shook her head.
“I guess not.”
Milo frowned at her, his voice, for once, very hard.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
She cocked a finger for Milo to lean forward.
When he did, she kissed him full on the mouth, and Dena hopped out to smack her, but Maggie came back laughing while Milo wiped his mouth.
“You’re a bitch,” Dena said.
“That may be,” Maggie allowed. Then looking at Milo she added, “But I’m also your daughter.”

MORE TOMORROW NIGHT

 

[CharmedFan28]

Wow so Maggie is Milo's daughter! That is a surprise because maybe I have missed something but that is new information to me. Maggie is in big trouble no matter how you look at it. I hope Bennett learns soon that he isn't going to be a father. That was some really great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, I might say more about what you missed and what you didn't miss after tomorrow night's portion, but yes this is a whole new surprise--and was meant to be, though I left a very few clues. I'm sure all will be put to rights in the end, but Bennett sure is in some hot water. I'm so glad you read, and so glad you enjoyed.

 

[ChrisGibson]

THAT SUMMER IN ROSSFORD was a hot one, made hotter by Milo’s sense of upset about having no clear plan as to what came next. Loretto College was too expensive to attend with a half assed spirit. Dena called from California.
“We may be coming back a little later than we thought,” she said.
“How late?” Milo tried to keep from sounding desperate.
“I’m not really sure,” Dena sure did sound careless as fuck about the whole thing.

“Take your grandfather’s car,” Barb told him. “And have an adventure. Take Kenny with you.”
One night they stopped at a bar in a small town where no one carded for age, and a girl wearing a corny ten gallon hat, but wearing it well, gave them beer all night.
“Yawl are both real nice looking.”
“Kenny’s attached,” Milo said, looking around the bar with its steer horns and jukebox playing that old time country music.
“So are you,” Kenny remarked. Taking a long sip from his beer mug.
“Yeah,” Milo allowed. “But you’re really, really attached. You couldn’t have this guy,” Milo said.
The girl placed the cowboy hat on Milo’s head and said, “Well, then could I have you?”
Kenny cleared his throat.
“I had a girlfriend who went away three months ago, and I don’t know when she’s coming back,” Milo told this girl, taking out a cigarette. “So, why don’t we talk and figure out if you can have me or not.”
“Good. You boys got a place to stay?”
“We’re thinking about a hotel we saw down the road,” Kenny lied.
“Don’t count on it,” the girl said. “I got a place. Not much. But I love to help a gentleman in distress.”
She offered her hand to Kenny first.
“Don’t be afraid. I never bite. Well, I do. But not real hard. The name is Bree. Bree Biggs.”



TWELVE



COMING TOGETHER


When Jonah let him in, Keith was shocked by Jonah’s skill, and by the tightness and the heat of him. He started with the joy of being inside of him, and the rumbling thunder of the storm outside was an outward sign of this inward thrill, this unbelievable gift. Jonah’s thighs were around him, enthroning him, pulling him in, and Jonah’s body guided him as Keith moved slowly. The long hands pulled him down, strong and delicate, the mouth opened in pleasure and kissed him. They moved together slowly, and when Keith wanted to speed up, but was afraid, Jonah whispered, “It’s alright. Don’t hold back.”
Keith’s rhythm built, and when Jonah whispered, “I love you,” though Keith had always known this, it was too much. Keith opened his mouth to say, “I—” but his voice rose in a strangled shout and he came, he came over and over in waves, buckling, secure in Jonah’s arms, secured by his legs. He came and then lay across him, Jonah stroking his damp hair. Neither one of them spoke a long time. Keith’s was still coming a little. He was strill trembling. All of him but his penis was so limp and damp, and as Jonah’s hands moved gently across his hair, Jonah said, “And now we’re together,” and Keith, kissing his throat, echoed, in a small murmur, “Together.”
There were some men, and he was rarely with them, who loved fucking. They loved to be the fucker because they felt more or less like they were still a man. They didn’t want to be entered. They didn’t want less. But they didn’t know the power of being entered. They didn’t know what it was like tonight, to see Keith’s face, his mouth open, his eyes brought to the ecstatic place where he wasn’t dumb or helpless, no, where he had gone to a place beyond sensible speech and made himself helpless, made himself lost in Jonah, and Jonah felt his hair and the power of his shoulders, and his back and his hips, and he was so surrounded by him, the heat of Keith’s breath, Keith’s kiss, Keith, deep, deep inside him in that gentle ache. And then that moment when his word of love had loosened him and he’d felt Keith hot, flooding into him.

HE OPENED HIS EYES, not from dreaming, but from the day dream. Pen on paper, in Sean’s room, Jonah asked himself, if he had come to find Sean, if Sean was the light of his life and he spent all night happy in his arms, then why did he spend his mornings thinking of Keith Redmond?


Logan Banford looked more tired than Chay had seen him when he came down to lunch on Huron Street. The people passed up and down River North outside their picture window and Chay said:
“You don’t look like yourself.”
“I feel like myself, though,” Logan told him.
The waitress brought his seltzer water. He thanked her and removed the paper from the rest of his straw.
“I’m just tired,” he said.
“Have you been sleeping? Or burning the candle at both ends as usual?”
“Well, Chay I have to burn the candle at both ends. That’s what keeps the rent paid.
“And,” Logan said, “that’s what keeps me alive.”
He took a long sip on the tall glass of frosted over, sparkling water.
“It’s work, work, work. And you can never just wam bam thank you. That’s not what you’re paid to do. You are paid to be interested and interesting, make comments about how much you care about… whoever. Whatever. And the more money they pay you, the more interested you have to be. Why, there was this old bastard on the Gold Coast, and I swear I spent three hours hearing about business ventures I didn’t understand and another three with his limp dick trying to fuck me. And then you say, well, of course it was great. Or you pay for the Viagra so that something actually will happen and, again, you say—of course it was great. Of course I care about you.
“That’s just the escorting.”
Chay nodded. Long ago, back in Rossford, Chay had gone with Logan on his escorting appointments. But though the money wasn’t as good, the exchanges had been a lot simpler.
“And then the photo shoots you don’t get. I flew out to New York, twice in the last three weeks just to not get the job. Once to LA. I’ve been living on a fucking plane.”
“But you just got the one for Mistal,” Chay said, “and that’s right here.”
“And getting the job is almost as bad as not getting it,” Logan continued. “No matter what you do, get it or not get it, you are being rejected. You are not good enough. And your shelf life… I’m going to be like that one motherfucker, the one who gets botoxed all the time now. The one who’s making his videos on You Tube.”
“When’s the last time you put a video up there?”
“I—unwisely—filmed my drive to O’Hare for the last shoot in New York,” Logan said. “It’s been weeks. It’s just…”
Logan shook his head.
“I kind of hate my life.”
Chay slid an onion ring around on his plate and waited for Logan to continue.
“I feel like I am so tired. I am so exhausted. Everything I have is so secondhand, and I’ve been hustling and hustling. And I am still hustling. I’m always trying to get there, but I’m never there. I always want some more, and you know what? The more I want isn’t that much.
“Maybe you’re right,” Logan said. “Maybe I should go to sleep.”
He planted his elbows on the table though, and looked out of the window at the people walking by. A cab stopped, and a handsome man, about thirty, in a chic pinstriped shirt and black slacks got out.
“How do they do it?” he wondered. “How the fuck do they do it?
“Those people, so together looking, walking up and down the street so smart, and you know what? Those fucks are as miserable as I am. More. But they don’t go on like I do. I’m so bored with my life. I’m so fucking angry that sometimes I could just cry. I want to scream. I want to throw shit. I can’t stand it. So I hustle and hustle and try to get there, even though I might not. Because the only other option is to stay here. Here and bored, here and content with what I’ve got. Here in my nice shirt and black trousers, nodding my head and tapping on my palm pilot on my way to the office. How, how, how, the fuck do they do it?”
Chay felt himself caught between Logan, ever struggling, always on the hustle, constantly on an edge he would never put himself on, and those people outside, that woman with the shopping bag and shades who looked slightly harassed, that nervous man on his way somewhere.
“If they saw you,” Chay told him, “they might ask the same thing.
“Sheridan’s coming this weekend.”
“Ah, Sheridan!”
“He’s bringing Brendan with him.”
“You say it like I need to be warned.”
“Well, Sheridan is the only man you ever loved.”
“You make it sound awfully poetic,” Logan told him. “Even though that’s about accurate. But we were broken up long before Brendan. And Brendan’s what he needs. And what’s more, from what I know of Brendan, Sheridan is what he needs too.”

The summer after high school graduation, Dena and Layla had made peace after the lack of Layla’s sex life, and Dena’s romance first with Brendan, and then with Milo, had begun to make a rift between them. Will was out of the picture at the time. He and Annalise Michaelson were together, liking each other, but not in love, not the way Will had been with Layla.
That summer in Rossford was a hot one, made hotter by Milo’s sense of upset about having no clear plan as to what came next. Loretto College was too expensive to attend with a half assed spirit. Dena called from California.
“We may be coming back a little later than we thought,” she said.
“How late?” Milo tried to keep from sounding desperate.
“I’m not really sure.”
Dena sure did sound careless as fuck about the whole thing.
“Take your grandfather’s car,” Barb told him. “Have an adventure.”
He and Kenny went on the adventure, because it was approaching the end of summer, and Will was going off to school. They would take him. Bren had to go to his grandparents at the end of August, and that was too bad because, after they’d had their first fight, Milo became increasingly fond of him.
At the end of August they piled into a truck, and Sheridan whined, “I want to go,” and Will said, frankly, “Eighteen year olds don’t want eight year olds.”
The stringy little boy with the sticky up hair frowned up his face, but Brendan reached down and ruffled his hair.
“I’ll look after you until I go, okay?” he said.
Sheridan stopped to consider this and looked up at Brendan.
“Can I look after you too?” the little boy asked him.
“Sure thing. We’ll just look after each other. Okay?”
Sheridan seemed content with this arrangement, and the other boys drove off.

After Will was settled, they drove further west. There were whole days when they saw only one or two cars, or seemed to be passing the same mountain. One night they stopped in a small town and found a bar where no one carded for age and a girl wearing a corny ten gallon hat, but wearing it well, gave them beer all night.
“Yawl are both real nice looking.”
“Kenny’s attached,” Milo said, looking around the bar with its steer horns and the jukebox playing that old time country music.
“So are you,” Kenny remarked, taking a long sip from his beer mug.
“Yeah,” Milo allowed. “But you’re really, really attached. You couldn’t have this guy,” Milo said.
The girl placed the cowboy hat on Milo’s head and said, “Well, then could I have you?”
Kenny cleared his throat.
“I had a girlfriend who went away three months ago, and I don’t know when she’s coming back,” Milo told this girl, taking out a cigarette. “So, why don’t we talk and figure out if you can have me or not?”
“Good. You boys got a place to stay?”
“We’re thinking about a hotel we saw down the road,” Kenny lied.
“Don’t count on it,” the girl told him. “I got a place. Not much. But I love to help gentlemen in distress.”
She offered her hand to Kenny first.
“Don’t be afraid. I never bite. Well, I do, but not real hard. The name is Bree. Bree Biggs.”

The night was cool, but no breeze came into Bree’s apartment. Kenny, in boxers and tee shirt, under a light coverlet, went in and out of slumber beside Milo. He saw a shape stir out of the darkness, Bree Biggs shaking Milo by the shoulder. The bed lifted as Milo got up and followed her into the bedroom. There was more space. Kenny rolled over and vowed to go to sleep. A moment later, from Bree’s bedroom, he heard bed springs creaking, the bed touching the wall, then hitting it, slamming hard, and then stifled noise. Silence. There was such a long silence.
Very early in the morning, the sky still grey, Kenny felt a nudge. He moved over and Milo climbed back into bed. When morning proper set in, they got up. Bree fixed them breakfast and offered her shower. Everything was very hospitable. They drove on another two days, until they reached Salt Lake City. They never mentioned that night.

To bring it up would be to make it real. That night, far from home and rolling on beer and cigarettes, Milo began to sense again what he knew, that he was good looking, someone tall, a little muscular, dark of skin, dark of hair, chocolate eyed, thick thighed, a real treat in faded jeans. Dena had left him, as she often did, feeling dispensable, someone to be forgotten for months at a time, and it didn’t make any sense that she should be the only woman he was ever with. It became more and more possible that, in fact, she might not come back. After all, Layla had quit Will—a good man—on such a small thing. So when Bree had invited them into her house, it wasn’t that he was hoping something would happen, but he wasn’t exactly hoping it wouldn’t happen either. On the way there he felt the same way he had when he was getting ready to steal cars back in Pennsylvania.
When she had come for him he was ready. He knew Kenny was only half asleep. He’d had to sleep in the other direction because his dick was so hard. Bree had actually pulled him by his hard dick into her room, not by his hand, but by firmly grasping his erection and pulling him into the darkness. She pulled down his boxers and he could barely see. He was completely surprised by her mouth on his dick, sucking like he was some kind of drink, trying to fit him all the way down her throat. While her hands cupped his ass, he placed his hands in her hair, and eyes up to the darkness, he began fucking her mouth. It was so good, but he stopped when he felt himself coming. She pulled him to the bed and shocked him by the tight hotness inside of her. She pulled him in, her hands on his sides. He fucked her slowly at first until she encouraged him. He didn’t know how much was in him, how much he needed this. He was so shocked by the first orgasm that he shouted out, and his body almost lost control. He kept shooting and shooting and he was dimly aware that the woman he was fucking didn’t know his name, and he hadn’t used a condom.
They fucked two more times, the last he lay on his back and felt a bead of semen come out of him, hang like a sticky rope. In the morning he left his address not because he wanted or expected Bree Biggs to ever contact him again, but because, perhaps in the back of his mind, he knew that when you had a one night stand without contraception, far from home, the right thing to do was to be traceable.
He and Kenny never discussed this, but for about six months Milo waited to be traced, to be hit by a repercussion for what he had done.
He had quite forgotten about the whole thing until, seventeen years later, Milo Affren found himself sitting across from Maggie Biggs in a jail in Rossford.

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was an especially interesting portion! I was fascinated to read how Maggie came to be in the world. I don't know where things are going to go with this story at the moment but I am enjoying it! Great writing and have a good week!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, yes, this business happens right after the end of the third book, and as you will recall the next book takes place ten years later, and so there are all sorts of incidents which have never been put down so far, Maggie's conception being one of them. And then there are the skip years between all the books which make for a lot of surprises--like Brendan and Sheridan having a past relationship which was briefly referenced, or Meredith having Mathan's baby. There is another surprise that will be revealed before this story. Incidicentally, Sheridan was in the first three books, but he was a very brief walk on. If you ever read them again, you will be like--well, shit, there's Sheridan as a seven year old!

 

[ChrisGibson]

SO TONIGHT IN ROSSFORD...


“So the thing about Liam,” Brendan explained, while he and Sheridan sat on Layla’s sofa, “is that not only is he from another country, but he has no parents, and no agency to work through, and he is, in a way, kidnapped.”
“How’s he kidnpapped?” Layla snapped. “If he has no mother, no father and no agency, how is he kidnapped?”
“Ease up,” Brendan put up a hand. “I’m not saying he is, I’m saying the state would say he is.”
“And they might also wonder about how he got on the plane and arrived here in the first place,” Sheridan added.
“Right,” Brendan’s expression was sober. “That could be serious.”
“Well, that’s why you’re here,” Lee said brusquely. “To take care of things like that. Or else they could have got any lawyer.”
“But I’m telling you I’m having a hard time seeing how to make this legal.”
“Brendan,” Fenn spoke more gently than the rest. “Surely you understand we were not asking you how to do this through the law, but how to do it around the law?”
Brendan looked irked and said, “Yes, Fenn. I’m beginning to see that.”
“Beginning to see it?” Layla began.
“Layla,” Fenn warned.
“Well, I feel squeamish about that,” Brendan began.
“You didn’t used to.”
“There’re are a lot of things I didn’t used to do,” Brendan said sharply.

Brendan was in the kitchen feeling irritated when the door pushed open and he turned around.
“Look, Fenn,” he said, gently.
“Yes?”
“I would like us to work within the law. I’m so tired of the fake papers and the manouvering and pulling strings and hiding things. I am a man of the law.”
“I know that,” Fenn said, nodding.
“Then what did you come in here for?”
“To say you shouldn’t pay attention to Layla. Or Lee for that matter. Liam can go to school. All he needs is a residence, and he has it. The other stuff will work itself out.”
“It’s just we seem to have this cavalier disregard for law. And… Am I a lawyer or not?”
“Of course,” Fenn said.
“Only?”
“Only what?” Fenn said.
“There is an only or a but behind that ‘of course’.”
Fenn nodded. “There is. Yes.
“Liam is a mixed race child from Great Britain with no family who came here illegally with no valid paper work, and if you make that known, then what happens? And how will Layla and Will adopt him?”
“He would likely be sent back to England and placed in their foster care system.”
Fenn nodded.
“Look, Fenn,” Brendan sat down across from him quickly, and leaned across the table.
“If I were to do what Will and Layla were doing—and I would never do that—”
“No, of course not.”
“Then I would have Pam and all of their friends who got them those bullshit papers pose as a private adoption firm. If they could do that, then I could do something too, on behalf of the state of Indiana, and Liam could be adopted.”

“Apparently he’s seeing this Maggie girl or something,” Charlie told her.
“I can’t believe Milo has a daughter,” Meredith said. “How could he? I mean, where the hell did he have time to make her?” Meredith spoke more to herself.
“Before he came here, I guess. Maybe. Well, I guess Dena will get it out of him. That is, if the girl is right. If she isn’t totally flipping.”
“Ed will be paying for everything he did,” Charlie said. “Those windows took me out a lot.”
“It was really good of you, Charlie.”
“No it wasn’t,” Charlie told her. “There really wasn’t anything else I could have done. But he’s giving me every one of his paychecks until he’s paid for it. I’m so mad at him,” Charlie pounded his fist softly into his palm.
“That’s your mad?” Meredith said with a smile.
Charlie looked at her and grinned.
“That’s kind of as far as I go,” he said.
“I think that’s why I love you.”
Charlie cocked his head and said, “Did you say you loved me?”
“I’m not one of those people who thinks you can’t say it or that you have to wait a long time. Especially since I usually don’t feel it.”
Charlie kissed her, and she touched his ear.
“How long can you stay?” he asked her. He placed his hand on hers.
“Dena’s keeping Elijah and Cayla tonight,” Meredith said.
“Then don’t go,” Charlie said squeezing her hand. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Charlie.”
“Or don’t,” he said. “Sorry, I may have spoken too soon.”
“No,” Meredith said. “I’ll stay. I’d love to stay.”

SHE HAD HONESTLY NEVER felt this way. This morning she woke up, looking at the grey light of the sun coming through the curtains, and she looked at the walls of Charlie’s room, decorated with little portraits. Charlie’s face was pressed to her neck, and his arms were around her. She tried not to wake him as she turned around to look at him, but he was smiling at her when she saw him.
“Hello,” he said.
“Well, hello yourself,” Meredith said.
“When do you have to get the kids?”
“Are you trying to make me stay longer?”
“I would love if you stayed longer,” Charlie reclined on his side.
“Well, what the hell time is it?”
She turned around, and he turned around with her.
“It’s only eight o’clock,” she said. “I think we’ve got another hour, at least.
Charlie’s fingers walked up her shoulder.
“We can make good use of it.”
There was a noise from downstairs and Meredith said, “Is someone knocking?”
“The kids shouldn’t be here.”
Charlie climbed out of hed in his boxers and pulled his housecoat on.
“Should I stay here or what?”
“Nah,” Charlie shook his head. “Com’on down. If it is the kids, it’s time for them to learn about birds and bees and…”
Charlie took off his housecoat and handed it to her and then, while the knocking on the door grew more forceful, he pulled on pajama bottoms and Meredith said, “That’s what I call an asshole. I’m definitely going down there with you.”
Meredith followed Charlie down the steps, her hand on his shoulder. He looked back and grinned at her.
“What?” she said. “You’re my boyfriend.”
He kissed her hand quickly, and then they went down the stairs together.
A curtain covered the door and Charlie peeked past the thin fabric, shrugged and then opened the door.
“Is Meredith Affren here?” the man asked, but Meredith could see him.
“Mathan? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to find out the truth,” Mathan said, as billigerent as before.
“Is it true Elijah’s my son?”
Andrew looked at her, his mouth open a little and Meredith looked at both of them and then said, “Fuck.”


“Where did you hear that from?” Meredith demanded.
“Does it matter?” Mathan asked.
“Well, it sort of does,” Meredith told him.
Charlie came down the stairs, dressed, and said, “If you all want to hash this out, I’m going to get your kids from Dena.”
“And is one of those kids my kid?”
“Yes!” Meredith said, impatiently. “Yes, goddamnit yes. And if you hadn’t run off with Carol right away, then you would have been raising him.”
“Carol was interested in me.”
“But you were fucking me!”
“And on that note,” Charlie said, “I’m gone.”
The door shut before them, and Meredith said, “I was not about to humiliate myself by telling you and Carol that I was having your baby, and I was not going to be left some single mother with Mathan Alexander’s child while he married another white woman altogether.”
“Did you think about me? How it would affect me?”
“No, Mathan, I didn’t. And here’s one worse: I didn’t think about Max either, which is why he’s gone.”
“Well did you love him?”
“No.”
“You really are—”
“A blue-eyed bitch,” Meredith finished. “I know.”
“And this Charlie?”
“I am in love with him. I haven’t been in love since we were kids. You and me.”
Meredith realized this wasn’t exactly true. But she didn’t know that until she said it, and it was too late and too cruel to take the statement away. She had liked Mathan a lot. But she had never been in love with him. She knew that now.
“So,” he sat on the edge of the sofa. “We’ve got a kid.”
“We have a kid,” Meredith said. “And if you think about it, that’s more than Sheridan and Chay had. A kid’s forever.”
“Elijah is my son.”
“He’s your oldest son. I wonder how the other one will deal with that.”
“The other one is two years old. Two year olds adapt.”
“Will Carol adapt?”
“She’s a mature woman.”
“She’s certainly not two,” Meredith said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s supposed to mean you left me for an old woman. I mean, Brendan Miller’s sister!”
“Meredith, you were already gone.”
Meredith was quiet.
“I know,” she said. “But I wanted my disappearance to hurt a little more than it did.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

This whole adoption thing is getting more complicated. I hope Layla can find a way of keeping Liam but who knows if that is even possible. So Mathan now knows about Meredith and his child. Interesting. I look forward to reading how that situation ends up with regards to coparenting. Great writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Aside from Mathan's knowledge, he was also just shy of being a cock block. There is so much going on as we come closer to the end. What are you most interested in?

 

[CharmedFan28]

Whether Layla can actually adopt Liam.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT IN ROSSFORD....

“How do you feel about what you heard?” Elias asked him.
“Whaddo you mean?” Dylan said. He sounded half distracted. They sat in the coffee shop on Loretto’s campus.
“About your family?”
“I’ve already got a family,” Dylan said brusquely.
“Meredith’s boyfriend’s ex wife is—”
“I already heard it,” Dylan told Elias, taking a long sip of his coffee while his brow furrowed.
“You don’t have to be that way about it.”
“I’m not being anyway about it,” Dylan said, continuing to be that way about it.
“I’m just saying, this woman is your blood aunt and—”
“Look, the way you’re saying that is like somehow some random woman is more important than Adele or Layla or any of the rest of my family.”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just if my birth mother’s sister came to town—”
“You’d want to meet her? You’d want to be friends with her children? Really?” Dylan said.
“Yeah,” Elias said weakly.
“Aren’t you the one that told Matthew he shouldn’t look for his real family? Look, I’ve got a real family, and in case you forgot, I’m related to a ton of Mesdas. So I already know what it’s like to have biological cousins and I have to tell you, I think they’re pretty fucking weird. And then, from what I hear, this cousin of mine broke all the windows in Dena’s house so—not much of a prize.”
“I’m sorry,” Elias said.
“I just don’t want to talk about it,” Dylan said, lamely, turning away.
Elias wondered if it had anything to do with Eileen Wehlan. He knew how Dylan felt about Fenn, and how protective he was of his father. He also knew how much Dylan wanted to protect himself from the mother who had abandoned him. Thinking of her family was probably thinking of her. Elias wasn’t going to say this. He wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Dylan,” he placed a hand over Dylan’s.
Dylan looked at him like he would be wise to choose his words carefully.
“I love you,” Elias said, squeezing his hand. “And I am your family.”
“I’m an asshole,” Dylan said, turning his face away, suddenly ashamed.
Elias tugged at his hand. Dylan looked at him. Elias shook his head.
“When I get back from Chicago do you want to spend the night with me?” Dylan said.
“If you think we’re ready for it.”
“I know you’re ready for it,” Dylan told him. “You’re ready for everything. It’s me. But… I don’t want to be apart from you, and we’re getting up so early in the morning or I’d say tonight.”
They were still holding hands across the table. Elias turned to listen to the man reading his poetry at the table beside them.

i bet even if i didn't tell you,
if i didn't tell you...
and if i didn't tell you
i was having fun, i still would have it
and if i didn't tell you that
in a burst of lust i pretended
i made love to you and you
never knew that everything
flowed out of me onto my
hand onto my bed sheets

“Oh my God, who the fuck is that?” Dylan wondered.
“Do you know Sean Babcock?”
“Not that well,” Dylan admitted.
“That’s his boyfriend. Came all the way from Detroit or something to find him. He’s a poet.”
“Is he here a lot?”
Elias shrugged.
“But that’s the way I feel,” Dylan said, excitedly, shaking Elias’s hand. “That’s how I always feel.”

then when we meet,
is it still an affair,
at least on my part, and if i
keep it to myself, and if i
keep it to myself, am i still alive?
or do i have to prove it to you
do picture books pick up where
memory left off and can i find you
and can you climb inside me?


Dylan looked at the man in glasses who reminded Dylan a little of one of his cousins, and then said, “What about now, El? We have now.”
“School—?”
“Fuck the rest of school. What about right now?”
Elias looked at Dylan, at the joy on his face. Both of them knew sex and even the joy of forbidden sex. This excitement, this joy in being with each other was something completely different.
“Yes,” Elias said. He nodded his head quickly.
They both turned to look at Jonah Layton, who had just noticed them, and smiled. They smiled back, and then looked at each other, grabbed their coats, and, leaving money on the table, went quickly to the door.

“No one will be at my house,” Elias said. “People are always at your house.”
Dylan nodded, though the idea of being with Elias in Paul and Kirk’s house worried him more than being in his own. Elias was right, though. His parents had far more reliable schedules. It was entirely possible that Fenn or Todd might swing by in the middle of the day, and if they did they’d want to know why Dylan was not at school, and why he was busy not-being-at-school with Elias.
“I just hope Layla and Will don’t see us,” Dylan said.
“Snap,” Elias murmured.
“All this sneaking around,” Dylan said, half jokingly.
“What about a motel,” Elias suggested offhandedly.
“Seriously?” Dylan turned to him.
“I can’t think of anything that would spoil this day more than parents walking in, and I can’t think of any better way to get away from that then a motel.
“Okay,” Dylan nodded. “There’s one on Meridian. I got twenty dollars on me.”
“I have my Dad’s credit card.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Dylan said.
Elias rummaged around in his wallet and then said, “Wait… I got thirty dollars.”
“How do you have thirty dollars?”
“How do you have twenty?”
“Grandma Mesda gave me money at Christmas, and I’m really cheap.”
“I have grandmas too, you know.”
“Well thank you, Merilee,” Dylan said.
As they drove up Dorr, Elias turned to look at Dylan. He had put his shades on to keep the sun of out his eyes, but he looked very serious and very cool. He was in his uniform, and the whole effect was a little official. Affectionately, Elias placed a hand on his leg. Dylan placed his hand over Elias’s and chuckled.
“That’s enough. Any more and I’ll crash into something.”

“Did you know?” Dena asked that afternoon when they were in Kenny’s house. “I mean, you must have known.”
“I didn’t want to know,” Kenny said. “I put it out of my head.”
Dena folded her arms over her chest, but she wasn’t angry.
“I was gone for a long time, wasn’t I?” she said.
Kenny said, “Four months. With just phone calls. He was only eighteen. You all had just gotten together.”
“I’m not mad,” Dena said, honestly. “I’m not. I’m just blindsided by everything.”
“Can it really only be twelve weeks since Christmas?”
“I know, right,” Dena said, sitting down. “And now… You and Ruthven.”
“We’re not really together.”
“But you’re not not together either. And Meredith and Mathan and, well damn, Carol’s nice about this. But she’s as nice as I’m going to have to be, right?”
“Well, in Carol’s case, it’s just a little baby. In your case—”
“It’s this straight up bitch,” Dena said.
“Is she really that awful?”
Without thinking, Dena said, “Yes.”

“I swear I’ll pay you back,” Maggie said, desolately, as they sat on the brick wall over the waste bins outside of the Sears.
Ed Palmer shrugged and looked over the cars of the parking lot, then over the cars going back and forth on the Strip.
“Don’t worry about it. I did it. You didn’t make me.”
“Did your mom tell you about that cousin of yours?”
“Yeah,” Ed said. “Dylan Mesda. He plays trumpet at the Five Spot sometimes. He doesn’t know me, but I know him.”
“You should introduce yourself to him.”
“Maybe I will,” Ed said, doubtfully. “I just might.”
Maggie touched his hand lightly.
“You’re a nice guy.”
“Not really. I’m someone who smashed out a stranger’s windows and ruined their car.”
“For me.”
“Doesn’t make it better.”
“No,” Maggie agreed.
“How do you feel? Now, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” Maggie said. “I have a dad now. I don’t know. I don’t think he likes me. I don’t know how he can.”
She was quiet. She said, “I don’t feel anything.”
Then she said, “Do you want to have sex with me?”
“So that you can feel something?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I can. Not just like that. I’m a virgin. I mean, aside from what we did. Which means I guess I’m not totally a virgin, but…”
“I am too,” Maggie said. Her voice sounded a little desperate now. “Just like those statues of Mary in church. Cold. I’m just stone. I just want to feel.”
Edward Palmer moved closer to her on the wall, and held her hand tight. He kissed her on the top of the head.
“I won’t go,” he promised her. “I’m right here.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

I enjoyed reading more of Elias and Dylan together. Maggie is one complicated character and I don't think that is going to change anytime soon. So much is going on and with everything that is up in the air I look forward to seeing how it all turns out! Great writing and I look forward to more soon! I hope you have had a nice night!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, not that I don't love everyone in Rossford, but this go around the three people you're talking about I really love. I adore Dylan and all of his different sides, and I love Elias. I just really love Maggie. She is a complicated girl. She's the first villain in Rossford I believe, unless you count Brian, and he was only villainous for a moment. Now that everything is being revealed, we may see a whole new side of this girl. Of course, the Affren/Meradan women have always been complicated.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT IN ROSSFORD, ELIAS THINKS OF CRISIS MANAGEMENT....


“It’s a nice room,” Elias said, touching the fibrous cream colored curtain, and pulling it back to look at Meridian Street.
Dylan pushed it back, and from behind he wrapped his arms around Elias. He kissed him on the cheek. Elias pressed his back into Dylan and Dylan’s mouth went to his neck. Elias turned around and let Dylan kiss him, and then Dylan turned around and walked him to the bed, pushing him onto it, laying across him and kissing him. His hands went around the other boy’s neck, and they began to kiss like they often did. There wasn’t a tutoring session or a conversation that didn’t end with them twisted on the bed or on the floor, but it always stopped there. Today Elias’s fingers began to work at Dylan’s shirt, and when Dylan realized it would just be easier, he got up in a hurry, unbuttoned the shirt himself, and then pulled it off. Suddenly, neither one of them could wait to be naked and quickly, almost clumsily, they undressed, and then came together, Dylan pressing his body against Elias’s, Elias’s legs wrapping about him and pulling him in. They lay side by side, holding faces, kissing, stroking hair. Elias turned Dylan on his back and kissed his throat, the place over his heart, down, down. He placed his cheek softly on the dark secret hair under his stomach, and ran his hands up and down Dylan’s sides. Dylan closed his eyes and turned his head on the pillow, and then Elias went further and Dylan opened his mouth, and his breath came out in a rattle of shock and pleasure. He looked below, almost in disbelief, watching Elias go up and down on him, his mouth doing this amazing work.
Almost unconsciously, he moved his hips. Tenderly, afraid of offending Elias, he took his head in his hands and guided. But Elias didn’t mind. His hands took Dylan’s hips and they moved like that until it was too much. Until they changed position and Dylan did it to him, until Elias pulled Dylan back onto the bed and turned around for him.
“Do you want me to?” Dylan said. He was so hard, and so amazingly large. He’d never seen himself this large.
“Yes,” Elias told him.
“I don’t have any…”
“Don’t be simple. I have some in my school bag.”
Dylan moved against him, savoring his body, running his erection between the firmness and the roundness of Elias’s cheeks.
“You carry lube and condoms in your school bag?”
“I had lube just in case. I didn’t bring condoms because I didn’t think we needed them. Unless there’s something you need to tell me.”
Dylan slapped his ass for that, and then rummaged around. Elias turned Dylan on his back and said, “It’s easier for me if I do it.”
Dylan nodded.
Elias, white as porcelain, his thighs hot, straddled Dylan, catching his sides between those legs.
Dylan felt Elias’s hands firm on his penis, guiding it, and then, suddenly, a tightness, Elias pulling him in into the tight hot inside. The last time Dylan had been fucked was at Christmas. If he had been the last person Elias was with, it had been longer for him then, and he watched the color drain from Elias’s face as he, pulling Dylan in slower and slower, navigated between initial pain and pleasure. His breath had stopped and his face changed. His mouth opened, his eyes almost went dead, and then a little wet. He licked his lips as he settled down on Dylan.
“You alright—?” Dylan began.
But just like that, Elias planted his hands on Dylan’s chest, and face looking up in triumph, he began to move up and down on Dylan, grasping his penis, as if by a secret hand. Dylan lost his breath, and then let it out in a high shudder as, pulled deep inside by the other boy, he let Elias ride him.

Dylan took after both of his fathers in the respect that he would never be very tall. He was, at eighteen, slightly taller and stockier than his natural father, Tom Mesda and exactly the height and build of Fenn Houghton. The profundity of curly hair, sometimes grown out to Beethoven extremes, that his musical father had, made Tom appear taller than Fenn, but this was not true. By the time he was eighteen, Dylan counted that he had been with—not counting Elias—five men. Ruthven, Lance, Nick Ferguson—who had taught him trumpet and—there was no getting around it—two of Ruthven’s friends back one night when he had gone to California. After Ruthven, and before he and Lance had come to their arrangement, some other things had happened, but Dylan’s generally honest mind shied away from those encounters. For an eighteen year old five was a high enough number and Dylan rounded up by simply saying “five and a half” when he thought of the others.
But the point was, with the exception of Elias, every man Dylan had been with was older and bigger than him. He and Lance, bound up in a sexual relationship since childhood, had few boundaries in the bedroom. Their love was fierce and there was no holding back. It took Dylan to the edge, but he was okay with it. He was a match for a strong man with a healthy sex drive.
Elias was slighter, younger, and maybe a little shorter. When he saw guys and girls together he wondered if straight men were pussies because their girlfriends were always so much smaller than them. Dylan had been afraid about being with Elias. The few times it had happened—the very few—Dylan had never fully let himself go. He was always conscious of holding back, of protecting the younger boy. All of this ended that afternoon.
Elias was no virgin. Of course he’d been with Dylan, but there was someone else, Dylan knew that now. And he had forgotten that Elias was as physically strong, and as voracious as himself. That afternoon Elias’s eyes and hands and cock and ass and heart demanded everything from him. It was five o’clock, and the covers were gone from the bed. The room was hot with the heat of their bodies and they were both red and panting, hair damp and ragged, bodies a little bruised, grinning at each other, hugging, kissing.
“I told you,” Elias told him, pressing his face into his chest.
Dylan pulled one of Elias’s legs over him, and ran his hand over his boyfriend’s body.
They didn’t talk for a long while.
“What now?” Dylan asked.
“Can we sleep? And hold each other?”
“I’d like that.”
“And then get something to eat?”
Dylan nodded. But he lifted his armpit and sniffed.
“Should we shower before we eat?” Elias said.
“I think it might be a good idea.”

“Oh my God!” Dylan shouted in the middle of his shower.
“Sorry sunshine,” Fenn said, pulling his head from behind the curtain.
“Dad, I’m eighteen. You can’t just do crazy shit like that.”
“I didn’t see anything. Too much steam. Besides, I already know what you look like. You probably look like Tom. Now when Tom was in his twenties, my God! That was a sight.”
Dylan lathered his head and stuck it under the hot water.
“Are you trying to make me hurl?”
“A little. Yes. And make you hurry up. Train leaves in forty-five minutes.”
“I’ll be ready. My stuff is already laid out. In fact, I’m about to turn the shower off.”
Dylan did, and Fenn handed a towel through the curtain.
Dylan smacked it to his face and began drying vigorously.
“We haven’t talked about the new discovery.”
“What new discovery?”
“That Eileen Wehlan’s sister is—”
“The ex wife of Meredith’s boyfriend, and the mother of some psycho bastard who busted out Milo and Dena’s windows.”
“Well, more than that,” Fenn said. “That’s merely interesting.”
“Dad,” Dylan stuck his head out of the curtain, and his dark hair was sticking up. “You’re driving me crazy right now. What else do you know?”
“I—” Fenn began. And then he said, “No, I think this is a train ride confession. In fact,” Fenn decided, “this might actually be a when we get to the apartment confession.”
Dylan looked strange, and then said, disappearing under a rustle of shower curtains to finish drying himself, “I’ll let you have your way. But are Sheridan and all of them supposed to be coming with us?”
“They’re coming to Chicago today as well,” Fenn said. “And we might eventually even all see each other. But they are not coming with us.”
“Good,” Dylan said decisively. Then he said, “And now I have to get out. So you need to get out too.”
Fenn nodded, and then he said, “Dylan?”
Pushing back the shower curtain, Dylan raised an eyebrow.
“I think this woman would like to meet you, and Charlie Palmer’s kids probably would too. They’re your family.”
Dylan’s face suddenly grew hard and he said, “I’ve got a family.”
Fenn knew to drop it then, and imagined he should have felt touched and grateful. He nodded his head, and exited the bathroom.

The train ride wasn’t long, but neither was it as short as it could have been, and Dylan was asleep by Hammond and woke up, his head on his father’s chest when they were disembarking to get onto the Metra train that would take them up to Evanston.
“Did I drool?”
“Do you think I would have let you pass out on my shoulder if you did. My love is not limitless.”
“Of course is it,” Dylan said, grabbing a bag from above them to relieve his father. “It’s just your wardrobe that isn’t.”
They sat on the platform watching the South Shore pass, and waiting for the Metra. Below them was South Chicago, the trees and old townhouses of Hyde Park on either side, a view that did not quite extend to the lake.
“I could go to school here,” Dylan said.
“At the University of Chicago?”
“No, my application would be too late and I suspect my grades aren’t nearly good enough. I mean here, in this area. I haven’t even really looked at a school.”
“I thought you were going to school with Lance.”
“I see what you’re trying to do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, you say it so innocent,” Dylan told him, “but you really mean: what has happened with Lance.”
“I think you read far too much into innocent statements,” Fenn said, looking away as if seeing the Metra were the most important thing in the world.
“Well,” Dylan said rather loudly, “Lance decided we shouldn’t be together and so I’m being together with Elias.”
“Just like that?” Fenn said.
“No, not just like that,” Dylan said. “Just like after knowing him my whole life, and over the last few years dealing with how I feel about him.”
Fenn nodded.
“So whaddo you think?”
“Do you make Elias happy?”
“Yes,” Dylan said positively.
“And does he make you happy?”
Dylan turned away, but when Fenn turned his head back, Dylan’s face was red.
“Oh my,” Fenn said. “You are in love with this boy.”
“I know it looks like I’m always in love with someone—”
“No,” Fenn said. “With Ruthven you had something I completely disapproved of and would not allow in my house. You loved Lance. And he loves you. So Lance and Elias, that’s two people. Not a lot. I got used to Lance. I grew to care about him because he cared about you. I’ve always loved Elias so that makes things even better. For me. Not that it has anything to do with me.”
“Well, your opinion does matter to me,” Dylan said.
“I’ve always loved Elias too,” he added.
Fenn yawned, and stretching. He said, “Love is in the air.”
“Um hum,” Dylan nodded, pointing south of them. “And so is the train.”

“We need a station wagon,” Laurel said.
“We’re doing fine as we are,” Brendan told her.
“The train,” Sheridan said, though. “That would have been just the thing.”
“Too slow,” Layla differed.
Laurel and Liam sat between she and Will in the back, and Brendan and Sheridan were in the front of the SUV. Liam suggested that they should have taken the plane, and Will burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Liam said to Layla.
“Not a thing. Your father’s just rude.”
“Is Chicago like London?”
Layla thought about this and then said, “No.”
“But,” Will said, shaking the laughter away, “did you know that the man who built the El was the same man who built the London Underground?”
“Really?” Brendan said, intrigued.
“Yup, it’s a fact.”
“So,” Layla, who was not at all interested in subways, said, “you’re going to drop us off at the Fromms, and then go onto Chay and Casey’s?”
“Right.”
“Are you staying there?” Will said.
Sheridan looked at Brendan who shrugged, and turned back to the Dan Ryan.
“We don’t know yet,” Sheridan decided. “But if we don’t we’ll join the rest of you up at Meredith’s house.”

Elias hadn’t slept so well in days. When the tap came at his door, he felt a little guilty because just then he realized that Bennett still had Maris to deal with, and they weren’t through that yet. But all he could think of was Dylan, and as he held the pillow he thought of Dylan. He dreamed of the time he could wake up with Dylan again. It was worth the price of the hotel room, though they would have to work out something in the future because fucking in hotel rooms would be expensive.
Elias climbed out of bed, pulling a pillow over his erection, and opened the door.
Paul Anderson stuck his head in and said, “It’s the phone. For you.”
“That’s curious,” Elias said, but he was still feeling merry when he scratched his head and went down the hall to take the call.
He was about to say “Hey, Dylan,” when he thought it over and said, “Hello?”
“Hey, Elias!”
It sounded so like Dylan Elias had to think a moment. He was caught short, and then the voice on the other end of the line said, “Are you dumb or something? It’s me. Lance.”


“Yeah, so spring break’s coming up, and since I’ll be in town I was just calling to remind you. Maybe we could do something together. I definitely think we should.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Are you alright?” Lance said. “I mean, I know it’s been a few weeks since that last time I called, and I’m sorry for that. But.”
“No,” Elias said, trying to bring volume back into his voice.
“I mean I’m thrilled. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither,” said Lance.
“So, has anything changed since I left?”
“You only left ten weeks ago,” Elias said, trying to force a laugh.
“Yeah, but in Rossford you never know. Anything can happen.”
“Uh… no…” Elias said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “Same old same old,” he said. “As far as I can see.”


TOMORROW NIGHT, MORE CADE AND DONOVAN, AND THE WEEKEND PORTION!

 

[CharmedFan28]

I like hearing about developments between Elias and Dylan. I don't know what they are going to do about Lance but it will be interesting to see what happens. I also wonder if Dylan will ever be ok with meeting the family he hasn't met yet. This was an exciting portion and I look forward to more tomorrow! Have a great night!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Thanks. I'm just getting back to reading your comment. It's been a very busy night. I love this part of the book and Elias and Dylan and we certainly will figure out what happens tomorrow.