The People in Rossford

[ChrisGibson]

THE PEOPLE
IN ROSSFORD
BOOK TWO OF

THE ROSSFORD TRIPTYCH

CHRIS LEWIS GIBSON​

The world is made up of all sorts of lovely people…

And this book isn’t for any of them


IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE HOUSES IN ROSSFORD, YOU SHOULD START THERE.

THESE ARE THE PEOPLE
IN
ROSSFORD, INDIANA

Fenn Houghton
Layla Lawden
Todd Meraden
Dena Reardon
Adele Lawden
Nell Reardon
Brendan Miller
William Klasko
Tara Veems
Thomas Mesda
Paul Anderson
Noah Riley
Lee Philips
Milo Affren
Brian Babcock
Claire Anderson
Julian Lawden

and

Danasia Burns
​

CHAPTER
ONE

SHOOT OUT

Todd Meradan remembered where Brian had lived years ago. The other night he saw where he lived now. He parked in front of the apartment building and sat there a moment, not sure in the daylight if it was the same. Yes, it was. He remembered the car he parked in front of, and he remembered the number of the brick building: 348.
In the lobby he looked over the brass mailboxes, searching until he found B. Babcock.
“I am in the right building,” Todd murmured. And then he went to the door and jiggled it. But he already knew it was locked. He’d have to wait, or maybe go around the back. That seemed like a wasted trip. Surely it would be locked too. He went to the end of the hall, pressed his face to the glass and wondered if a tenant would come.
Todd was sure it had only been about five minutes, but five minutes feels like forever when you’re not sure waiting will come to anything, or when it will come to something. As he was about to sigh again, and shift his weight to his other hip, he heard the door behind him open and he shouted, turning around.
“Hold that door!”
At the terrified look on the man’s face, Todd added: “Please.”
“There you go,” he said, smiling nervously. “You get locked out?”
“Key’s inside my apartment,” Todd lied, shrugging.
“Well, good luck getting inside.”
So Todd lied further. “My place is still open, thank God.”
He gave a friendly smile and went up the stairs to the third floor. He hadn’t seen an elevator here. Brian had always been a fit person. Todd thought living on the third floor was something like living in hell. Then there was, Todd remembered, the whole problem of getting inside, and the whole problem of, if you got inside, then what would lead him to Brian? Would Brian write a note saying, “In case anyone wants to look for me, I am at…. X.”?
So, there was C-7, Brian’s apartment. Now to get in. He’d seen on TV that people could use credit cards to break into apartments, or hairpins. But Todd figured that if it were that easy locks would be useless. He wondered, could there be a key under the mat?
“That’s stupid,” Fenn would have said. “Why the hell would you put a key under your mat where any crook would look for it?”
“The flower pot?”
“That’s the next place they’d look.”
And Fenn would have added, “Besides, there’s no flower pot here anyway.”
“Then what about—?”
“No,” Fenn would say, “Just… leave the windows unlocked. Always make the house a little break-in-able.”
Todd looked around the hallway. He leaned into the door, and then he shrugged and picked up the mat.
“I’ll be damned,” he murmured.
“Fool,” he heard Fenn say beside him.
There was the key.
He clicked it and pushed the door open. The house was as clean as Todd expected. But it smelled funny, like old breath, like someone who hadn’t used air freshener for a day or so.
Todd closed the door behind him, and looking around the living room, murmured, “Where to look…? Where to look?”
He went to the bedroom, which was mildly trashed, and then went over the bureau, flipping through loose change and papers.
“I wonder if he has a landline.”
There was a phone, which surprised Todd. He knew Brian had a cell phone. He wondered, “Why am I doing this? This is nuts. Why am I…?”
No one else will, and you won’t be right unless you do. And also, he knew Fenn expected it of him.
He didn’t know Brian’s number, so he decided to call Tom.
No… call Tara.
“Hello?.” He heard her voice a moment later.
“Veems. It me. What’s Brian’s number?”
“What the fuck for? Never mind. Hold on. Let me see if I have this bitch… Oh, shit. I do. Here it is.”
She read it and Todd thanked her, clicked off, and called.
The phone rang a long time, and then he heard a cheesy voice, Brian’s smarmy voice, say:
“Hi, I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave your name and number, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
Todd didn’t know what to do with that. So he rang again. When he got the voice message he rang one last time and then there was nothing again.
No luck, what to do? What would a private-I do? He decided to look around the house some more, which was always fun. He looked through Brian’s underwear drawer. Of course he wore briefs; that was a Brian thing to do. All different colors, no white ones, a lot of red. Brian looked nice in a pair of red briefs Todd was sure. The phone rang and startled him from his reverie.
Todd almost didn’t answer it. Then he assumed that maybe Brian, seeing his number ring him up three times, had called back. So he went to the phone, but just then the answering machine came on. Not as impressive, a little grainier than the first message, after the squealing beep he heard:
“Hello, you’ve got me. I’m not here right now, but please leave a message, your name and your number and I’ll get back to you just as soon as possible. Good bye now.”
Then came the beep, and then, yes, Brian’s real voice.
“If there’s anyone there trying to reach me, please pick up. I’ve got this number on my cell phone. Please pick up.”
And if Todd said, “It’s Todd, where are you?” Brian would… tell him? No, that wasn’t likely. So Todd took a chance, deepened his voice, and lifted the phone saying:
“This is your building manager.”
“Oh… Mr. Vallero?”
Todd weighed his ability to feign a Spanish accent. He wondered if Vallero even had one. He didn’t know, so he lied again.
“Vallero’s out, but I’m Jackson. I manage finances. A message came from your credit card company saying they were going to decline last night’s payment unless there was verification you were actually there. If you travel for a certain distance they need confirmation that the bill really does come from you.”
Todd remembered this from a trip he and Fenn had made a couple of years ago. Every night they had to call to confirm where they were. It was nice, secure, but a little annoying.
“Oh, all right,” Brian said obligingly, and Todd put down the phone and sighed. Then he tried to stop laughing.
“I was actually in Armison.”
“That’s what out records say.”
“At the Days Inn.”
“Yes,” Todd said. “Good.” Then, “And do you have an idea of where you’ll be tonight? If you’re crossing the state line it may be important.”
“I’m shooting for Pittsburgh.”
“Oh, good,” said Todd. “Well, have a good trip. Family I suppose.”
“Not really. No, just a little trip by myself,” Brian said in a civil tone it was interesting to hear. So this was how he dealt with people he didn’t know.
“Have a good day,” Todd said.
“You too,” Brian said merrily. God, he was never that happy! He couldn’t have been that happy now.
Todd hung up the phone.
Or could he? And was Todd just being foolish and sentimental?
He sat on the bed.
“I know he’s… going to Pittsburgh.”
“Well, at least I’ve got it narrowed down. All I have to do is check every hotel in the greater Pittsburgh area.”

As they were turning into Versailles Street, Barb Affren’s purse buzzed.
“It’s my cellphone.”
“You have a cellphone?” said Fenn.
“Everyone does. It’s the twenty-first century. Answer that.”
Fenn shrugged and reached into Barb’s purse. He took out the phone and flipped it open as they approached the house.
“Fenn!”
“Lee?”
“Yeah. Are you at home?”
“Yes, We just got here.”
“Don’t go in that house.”
“What? Stop the car,” Fenn said. Lee was never wrong.
“What?” she mouthed, her eyes wide behind her sun shades.
“What?” Fenn said.
“Okay, Lemonade told me about that Callan character.”
“Joe Callan.”
“Yes. He’s on his way to Rossford.”
“Yeah, you said something about that.”
“He was looking for… do you know a Noah Riley?”
“Yeah. Yes. What about Noah?”
“What’s going on?” Barb mouthed, frantically.
“Well, he said something about going after him, or waiting for him where he was, and I thought he might be at your house.”
“Well…” Fenn said, slowly, “yes. He is.”
“Fenn, either don’t go in the house, or be real careful going to the house… Or something.”
“Lee—”
“I’ll be right over. Tom’ll bring me. Bye.”
The phone shut off and Fenn said, “Lee told me a man might be in that house who might be waiting to kill someone staying with me. Or, better yet, might have killed him already.”
“Oh, shit,” Barb said. “Blood’s hard to get out of the carpet.
“Well,” she reached into her purse, fumbling around in a side pocket, “I guess we’re just going to have to use this.”
“Fuck!”
“Watch your language,” Barb said, negligently, loading the little gun.
“Shit,” Fenn muttered.
“That’s better,” said Barb. “Now, follow me. Don’t make any crazy moves, Fenn.”
Barb climbed out of the car, and Fenn followed her down the block.
“I need you to sneak around the back and peer through the window,” she said. “I’m just gonna shimmy around and look through a front window.”
“You’re going to shimmy?”
“Don’t be sassy. Just go.” The old woman shooed him away as she slipped off with the gun.
Now that they were doing this, Fenn suddenly believed it. He was just a little bit terrified, and only slightly surprised when he looked through the back window and saw Noah Riley standing before the front door, very still, mildly terrified, and then, the figure of a man walking back and forth past him, a small gun in his hand.
Fenn ducked away and loped around the house, nearly on all fours. Barb turned around and saw him.
“I saw,” she whispered, wide eyed. “Now here’s the game plan.”
“Game plan?”
She nodded.
“First thing, we get the hell from under this window.”
They moved clumsily, asses waving in the grass to the next lot, and just then they saw Tom’s car. And then, before it had completely stopped, Lee jumping out of it, toward them.
“Someone’s got Noah at gun point,” they were telling him as Tom approached.
“We need to call the police,” said Tom.
“Don’t be crazy,” Lee said. “We need a game plan.”
“Exactly,” said Barb.
“It’s only one of him—”
“With Noah for possible hostage,” Tom reminded him.
“Yeah, I guess,” Lee waved this off. “—And one, two, three, four of us. And two guns,” Lee added, taking his out.
“Good God,” Tom said.
“You knew what you were getting into when you got with me,” Lee said. “Now, if Barb takes the back and I take the front door, I think it’s all good.”
“We can’t do this,” Tom said.
Lee said, “We can’t not do this.”
“Fenn?” Tom looked to him for some wisdom.
“What?” said Fenn. “I only wish I knew how to shoot.”
Fenn went in beside Barb, and because Tom couldn’t stand himself if he did otherwise, he went in beside Lee, at the front. So, when they had divided, and Fenn slipped the key into the door, Joe Callan shoutet, “Who the fuck is that?”
Walking into the kitchen with a raised gun, he said, “Get against the fuckin—” and then stopped at the sight of Barb Affren.
“Watch your mouth, young man, she said, the gun right on him.
She added: “And while we’re at it, put that fucking gun down.”
The front door opened, Noah shouted, Joe Callan turned around, but Barb said. “No. No, stay still.”
Into the kitchen came Lee, with the gun to Joe’s neck followed by Tom, much whiter than usual.
“Put the gun down,” Barb said, gently.
“You can’t shoot me you silly old bitch,” Joe said negligently, and moved forward to take the gun from Barb, but just as she clicked the gun, there was a firing, and Joe Callen howled and then fell down, doubled over on the kitchen floor.
“You son of a—” he started at Lee, clicked the gun, and Lee shot one more time.
There was stillness, and then Lee said, “It was either me who would shoot him or Barb. I thought I might be able to handle it better. I tried to just get him in the foot, but that second time he wanted me.”
Noah, greenish, said, “You… killed him.”
“Yeah,” Lee said, clinically, watching the red pool of blood under Joe Callan’s head widen on the linoleum floor. “I guess I did.”
“Whaddo we do?” Tom’s voice was dead.
Barb said, simply, “Quicklime. Lots of quicklime.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

What an action packed start to this new book! I hope Noah is ok and they don't get in too much trouble for shooting Joe in self defence! I also hope they find Brian in once piece. Great writing and welcome back!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I'm glad to be back, and to put your mind at ease, I will just say, the trouble with Joe Callan is officially over. But other trouble has just begun. More tomorrow night!

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER
ONE

SHOOT OUT CONTINUED


“I’ll wait out here,” Claire said from the Jeep.
Paul sat beside his sister, twiddling his fingers.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” Paul said. “I always have my stuff under control. When I need to be Paul Anderson that’s who I am. He’s nice and… cornfed. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He’s not even remotely sexual. He’s just a really nice boy that people want to help. He knows how to… get what he wants.
“But Johnny Mellow. He’s the opposite. All the way to the part where he knows how to get what he wants. In the movies, if you saw them.”
“Not really, Paul.”
“Good. Well, in the movies, he’s kind of dumb and gee willickers and… you know. But then later on he was just my stage name, movie name. And he was the exact opposite of who I grew up to be. He was… sometimes he was mean, Claire. The same way I want people to see the nice Paul when I’m in public, he’s the one I don’t want people to see. And now Kirk’s seen it all. And…”
“You know what?” Claire said. “We’re wasting gas. Go inside, Paul.”
Paul knew that Claire understood his fear. He also knew that she knew he was hoping she’d say, “Don’t worry about it, then. Face your fears later.”
Paul nodded, climbed out of the car and said, “Don’t drive off without me.”
Then he headed across the car lot to Hanley’s.
Kirk wasn’t at the desk near the floor room. Paul put his hands behind his back, tapping his foot, wondering where he was. If he’d come back, He didn’t want to be surprised by Kirk coming from behind.
He came from the hallway looking the way Paul liked, with those little glasses pushed up, his pale blue shirt snug around his chest, his khaki’s fitting well, somewhat satisfied with his work. He must have just gotten off the phone. And then he stopped, and his expression changed as he saw Paul. It was angry at first, then he looked more like he was trying to find a way to escape.
Paul approached him.
“Look, Kirk, we need to talk.”
“No we don’t.” Kirk screwed up his face into a hard expression. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“I’d say we have a lot.”
“You’d say?” Kirk said. “You’d say, Paul, or Johnny or… whoever you are! You don’t get the say.”
“I want to see you.”
“You’re making a scene,” Kirk hissed, leaning forward. “You’re making a big scene.”
“For the… three customers in here.”
“It’s late afternoon. Things always get quiet.”
“That’s not what I was saying. I… I want to see you,” Paul made to touch Kirk’s shoulder, but Kirk pulled away.
“I want to touch you.”
“You don’t want to touch me,” Kirk said. “What you want to touch is that… vile—God, you made me use the word vile—that vile, vile Brian with his slick hair and his… God, what a gross asshole! And you were letting him fuck you. And fucking him! You’re… vile too. And that’s without the Pizza Slut and Boffer King and… whatever other stuff you’ve—”
Kirk stopped.
“Wait, come, I want to show you something,” Kirk said, his voice changed.
Paul, as doubtful as he’d felt before, was truly nervous now.
“All right,” his voice wavered. He followed Kirk.
“Check this out,” Kirk said opening his laptop. It must have already been on. It whirred to the Internet and Kirk typed in something.
“Johnny Mellow in…. and this is because I forgot all of them,” Kirk said to him, before clearing his throat, “Pizza Slut, Boffer King, uh… Anal Bell, now that is cute… and there’s a clip—”
“Don’t look at that!”
“Oh, and then the other ones, GILF and BILF, that means,” Kirk said in an aside, “Gay I’d like to fuck, and Boy I’d like to fuck, and boy it’s a lot of people who’d like to fuck you, and don’t you think you might have told me that?”
“When?” Paul said, suddenly feeling defenseless. “When could I have told you that?”
“Everytime!” Kirk realized his voice had risen, and he brought it down.
“Everytime I almost kissed you and you told me you weren’t ready and pretended to be—”
“I wasn’t pretending anything. I wasn’t. And… all of that is in my past. That’s the past.”
“Really? Because… wait.”
Kirk clicked a few more buttons.
“Here, on this little amateur site there’s you and this buddy of yours, Noah. And it’s… well, it’s in your bedroom. It’s in Fenn’s house, and wow, I saw this a few times. And it’s a couple of months ago. And then… a three way in Georgia! That’s a few weeks ago.”
“What?”
Paul’s face went red. He was hot and confused, and the floor was moving. “There wasn’t a camera there,” he whispered.
Kirk laughed and nodded his head.
“Wasn’t a camera there… so, it’s real? Of course it’s real. Just like that little silver DVD is real. And you know? That’s a couple of days ago. That’s—wow—that’s when you were telling me how we were falling in love and I was… dumb enough to believe it. So, that’s definitely not in the past.”
Kirk, winded and tired and angry, something sharp in his throat, stopped. Paul, standing over the desk, didn’t say anything.
Finally he spoke.
“Kirk… please. Look…”
“You look,” Kirk said. “I… You know what it’s like to find out what you are? You must. Even someone, even an asshole like you, must know what it’s like to know you’re not like everyone else. You’re not going to have… the wife, and the kids. I mean, this is before you figure out that it’s lots of guys just like you who have kids and the wife anyway. It’s long before you find out you can have kids too. You just think you’ll never find love.
“And then you do. Some son of a bitch sees something in you, and he preys on it and, because you’re young and stupid, you open up and tell him you love him. And then you let him make love to you. That’s the… That’s the thing. I mean, me, not like some nelly guy in church choir or, or… in the band or the drama club. That’s how I saw myself. I was the athlete, and here I am, letting it happen to me, letting myself fall in love, giving myself to someone else.
“And so when he says its over, it’s… it is absolute shit when you see him get a girlfriend and pretend nothing ever happened with you two. And you say it’ll never ever fucking happen again. You will never let another man do this to you. You almost go straight. You know why so many guys do.
“And then, you meet somebody else. You open up… the same thing happens again. And this time you say you’re wiser—”
“Kirk—”
“SHUT—the fuck up. I am talking,” Kirk said.
“And then,” Kirk resumed, “when you finally think you’re impervious, it happens again. I’m thirty years old, Paul, and I thought, I knew, I’d experienced more pain and betrayal than I ever could. I knew that nothing worse could happen. I could never be more hurt and feel more lied to, and betrayed and… stupid…”
Kirk shrugged: “And then you proved me wrong.”
This was all going wrong. There was nothing he could say. Paul closed and opened his fist. He ran his hands up and down his jeans.
“I was stupid,” Kirk said, in a tone of realization. “I mean… I don’t even know you, not really… We just met. How… could you possibly love me even a little?
“Please… go away. All right?”
Paul was out of himself. Someone, maybe Fenn or Lee or even Todd should have been there to save the day. Make him do something else. But Kirk had just told him to leave, and he had to leave. It was just going to hurt Kirk more the more Paul spoke. Nothing could be done. Nothing he knew. If only he could show Kirk the years on the streets, the fear when dirty old men touched him and he put his mind out of his body. If only he could somehow share with Kirk what Kirk had just shared with him.
But Kirk was so angry and so hurt, hurt and crushed. And he had asked Paul to go away.
So he did.

 

[CharmedFan28]

Poor Paul! I hope Kirk will one day forgive him but it does not look like that will happen anytime soon. Great work and I look forward to reading more.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Aren't we having fun? More tomorrow.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER
ONE

SHOOT OUT CONTINUED

When Paul and Claire stepped into the house, no one was there, but blood was on the kitchen floor and there was an energy to the place. The basement door was wide open, and they could hear an older woman’s voice saying, “Right over there. Yes. There.”
“What the?” Claire murmured. The toilet flushed upstairs, and at the same time Fenn came up from the basement calling, “Paul! Is that you? Claire?”
“What’s going on?” Paul said.
“Oh,” said Fenn. “Well, Joe Callan—that’s the guy whose money we had—he came after Noah and tried to kill him—”
“Oh, my God—” Claire began, but Fenn put a hand up and murmured: “Just listen.
“Anyway, we came back to the house and one thing led to another. Well, you know, he just wouldn’t give up and he put Barb in danger.”
“Barb Affren?”
“Yes, Barb’s downstairs with the quicklime.”
“Why was she in danger?”
“Because she came into the house and had him at gun point. Joe Callan, that is.”
“Why,” Paul shook his head. “I mean, how did she have him at… gunpoint?”
“With her gun,” Fenn said, impatiently, and then, anticipating the next question, “of course she carries a gun. She’s Barb Affren. But the man tried to shoot her anyway, so that’s when Lee killed him.”
“Lee killed—”
“And now we’ve got the body in the basement and we’re pouring quicklime over it.
“Oh, by the way Claire, Tom and Lee are going out for chicken, so you’re welcome to stay.”
“I think Claire had better go,” Paul said.
“I think I should stay,” Claire differed. “And I think I will. Only, I guess I can’t tell Julian about the dead body thing.”
“No, I’d rather you didn’t,” Fenn said. “You or anyone else.”
“What are we gonna do?” Paul lamented.
“We’re doing it,” Fenn said.
“I had better call mom, and tell her I’m staying here another night,” Claire said to her brother. “I’ll even let her speak to you so she knows I’m not fooling around.”
Claire took out her cellphone and Fenn said: “Did you go to see Kirk?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“It was a disaster. I really, really screwed up.”
“Damn right you did,” Fenn said with empathy. “But at least no one got shot where you were.”
“All right, Mom,” Claire was saying into the phone. “Here he is.”
She handed the phone to Paul and said to Fenn, “I don’t know what to do. About him and Kirk. I don’t even know this Kirk, but he seems like he really made him happy, and now it’s like that Brian ruined it all. I could… I could really punch him.”
“I know what you mean,” Fenn said.
“Where’s Todd?”
“He went to go find Brian, now that he’s disappeared.”
“Disappeared? You mean he ran out with his tail between his legs.”
“Yeah,” Paul was saying to the phone. “Yes. I love you too, Mom. G’night.”
“Pretty much,” Fenn answered Claire.
Paul clicked off the phone, and from the basement Barb’s heavy footsteps came up with her voice declaring, “I need a goddamn drink. And fast.”
“Coming right up,” Fenn stood up and motioned for Claire to follow.
“There’s no pop in the fridge?” she said as Fenn left the room.
“That’s not even close to what she was talking about,” Fenn said, opening the liquor cabinet.
“So, Todd went off in search of Brian?”
“Todd has a very big heart.”
“I guess,” said Claire as Fenn took out the Scotch and searched for glasses.
“Could you get me some ice?”
“Sure,” Claire said.
When she returned she said, “Is it distance?”
“Whaddo you mean?”
“I mean, you and Todd can be nice to him, to Brian, because of distance from the situation.”
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“You see Tom in there?”
“Lee’s Tom?”
“Before he was Lee’s Tom he was my Tom. For ten years. Out of college. Brian seduced him. Tom wasn’t innocent, obviously, but Brian ended that relationship. This house you see around you, Tom and I bought it together. It was supposed to be ours. I… I have no distance from the damage Brian Babcock can do.”
Claire’s face was filled with so much horror that Fenn felt like he had to smile.
“It’s in the past.”
“But, Fenn.”
“And you can’t take it out of the past or change anything around.”
“I guess,” Claire said. “I mean, I guess that’s what they mean when they say being forgiving or being Christian.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to keep holding on to shit,” Fenn said. “I’ve thought for a long time being Christian is just a sanctified word for being a grown up.”
Claire laughed, and then she made a face.
“Fenn, I still wanna kick him in the jaw. I don’t want to be a grown up.”
He gave her a crooked smile and said, “To tell you the truth, most of the time neither do I.”

Todd decided it was time to check in.
“Hello?”
“Baby, it’s me.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“Somewhere near Parma.”
“What?”
“I won’t be home tonight. I’m going to Pittsburgh.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m sure he’s there,” Fenn.
Fenn held his tongue.
“I know how this seems,” Todd said.
“The man that ruined my life almost a decade ago, sets out to ruin other peoples’ lives and then runs away when the damage is too much for him, and the one who chases him is… Oh, that’s right—my husband.”
“Do you want me to come home?”
“No, Todd, I really don’t. I don’t completely understand why you have to go after him, but I wouldn’t want you to turn around now. Especially since you’re already in Parma.”
“I gotta tell you, Cleveland sucks.”
“Get off the phone now,” Fenn said. “You know how I feel about people talking on cellphones and driving.”
“Or talking on cellphones period.”
“I confess, until today I thought there were pretty useless.”
“What happened today—oh, watch yourself you son of a bitch! Sorry, babe.”
“You watch yourself,” Fenn said. “And never mind what happened today. You’ve got your quest and I’ve got mine. Or something questlike. Well, anyway, you just take care of yourself and call me when you get… wherever you’re going.”
“I love you, Fenn.”
“I love you too,” said Fenn. “Goodbye.”

“What about me?”
Fenn, on the bar stool, looked up and said, “What about you Todd?”
In the kitchen that was now Nell’s, Todd had been stretched out back then, swinging from the lentil, the black line of hair down from his navel and to his shorts exposed. He wore and tank top that read Saint Barbara’s Basketball, and he hadn’t shaved in days.
“What about you taking a chance on me? That Tom isn’t worth crying about anyway.”
“Firstly,” Fenn said, lifting a slightly drunken finger and putting the drink down as the storm door opened and Adele and Nell came in for hamburger buns, “I am not crying over anyone. Trust me.”
Adele raised an eyebrow, and then left. Nell grabbed the relish and Fenn waited for her to depart before turning around and saying, “And secondly, I make a point to never tap someone’s ass if there was a point in time that I wiped it.”
“Ouch, Fenn, that’s harsh,” Todd came down from the door post and approached him. “I mean I just think you like me a little, and I already told you I like you a lot.”
“See, I don’t know where the fuck you came up with that. I don’t know when you decided that I was… what? Your dream man?”
“We don’t have to dream, Fenn.”
“Stop that. And stop using that… voice.”
“Is it sexy?”
“It’s stupid. You’re—”
“I’m not stupid.”
“No, but you are a child.”
“I’m twenty.”
“And I…” Fenn began, “am… not.”
“I love older men.”
“Hold the fuck on, I’m not that much older.”
“But you keep saying you are.”
“I just…” Fenn started over again. “I just think it’s not a great idea. I think—”
“Hold on,” Todd said.
And then suddenly, Fenn’s face was in Todd’s large hands, and the boy, Todd had always been a boy to him, had pressed his wet mouth to Fenn’s. His tongue touched Fenn’s and for the first time in a long time of prickly resistance, Fenn Houghten did something like melt.
When Todd pulled away, Fenn resumed: “…Think… that… You are…”
“Whaddo you say?” Todd say.
“I still say no.”
Todd shrugged. It wasn’t a real shrug. It was a high school shrug, like I don’t care, when really you care all too much. Fenn wanted to call him out for that, to say, “See, that’s why we can’t have anything.”
Have anything.
Why, for this brief second, in the aftermath of Todd’s kiss, did having something seem a little believable?
“Todd,” he said as Todd was walking away.
Todd turned around.
“What I should have said is not now. Whatever is later, not now.”
Todd came back and approached him.
“It has nothing to do with you. Or almost nothing,” said Fenn. “I don’t want a boyfriend like Tom.”
“I’m, not like Tom.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant, a serious one. Someone who was… a soulmate and shit. And I just don’t see how we wouldn’t be that.”
“It could be light. It could just be fucking.”
“Okay, no it couldn’t,” Fenn said. “Cause that’s not us. I mean, it’s you and it’s me, but together…” Fenn shook his head. “That’s how you know soemthing’s real. I mean with you and me even just fucking wouldn’t be just fucking. You’re in love with me.”
“And you’re not in love with me? Just a little?”
Fenn took a breath. He touched Todd’s cheek.
“I love you,” he said. “And not just a little. And for the time being I’m not ready for that, so go fuck some dumbass and then come back to me in a year. I’m not going anywhere.”



More on Wednesday night

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great section! Is the last little bit a flashback? I am a bit confused. A lot of things are going on and I eagerly await for more on Wednesday so I can find out what happens next!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Nope, you're not confused, and on Wednesday we will continue to delve into the past and learn a little bit more about our friends.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER
ONE

SHOOT OUT CONTINUED
“You think I’m the devil, don’t you?”
“I don’t think you’re anything at all.”
“Oh, touché, touché!” Brian Babcock murmured. He was away from the rest of the partygoers, in a clean white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves to reveal the dark hair going up and down his arms. He had on black round sunglasses, which Todd mistrusted.
“I don’t even know why you’re here.”
Brian shrugged. “You know what? Neither do I. Tom brought me. That was a mistake.”
“You’re damn right it was. Why would he show up with the guy he was fucking—?”
“I’m not fucking Tom,” Brian shook his head with mild irritation. “I’m not fucking anyone.”
“Well… neither am I.”
Brian laughed and slid off the banister.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“About what?”
Brian slipped off his glasses and put them in his pocket.
“About how I’m here and you’re here and we’re both here because we don’t fit in… In there.”
“I fit in just fine.”
“Maybe,” Brian shrugged. “But you don’t think you do. You… You’ve got shit. Inside of you?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Uh,” Brian said. “I know I do, and you do. But, does everyone? No. Or at least not so far as I know. I don’t know a lot of people who have a hard time looking at themselves in the morning. I don’t know a lot of people who hate who they are. That’s generally my department.”
“I don’t… hate who I am.”
“But you wish you were someone else. Sometimes? Right? Someone with less baggage?”
“I guess,” Todd said.
“I’m not asking you to talk about it,” Brian told him. “I’m just asking if, like, you wanna walk or something?”
Todd nodded, and then climbed over the rail, and they set down the street.

“I didn’t ask him to do it, you know, but I didn’t tell him not to.”
“You were a kid,” Brian said.
“I was a teenager.”
“When it ended. And teenagers are kids. What the fuck could you do?”
“I go to horrid man after horrid man thinking that this dick’ll fuck me so hard it’ll get all the bad stuff out of me.” Todd added in a small voice. “Or get the part of me that liked the bad stuff out of me.”
“Fenn’s not that man?”
“What?”
“I’m just saying,” Brian said, “I know how you feel about him. I don’t know if anyone else knows,” he said at the surprised look in Todd’s eyes. “But I see it. I think there are two sorts of guys you need. The love of your life, and the fix it guy, the one who sort of… preps you for the love of your life, or does what the love of your life can’t do.”
Todd looked at him.
“I’m just saying,” Brian said again, “you wanna be with a guy who isn’t horrid. I mean, I’m not terrific, but I’m not… what do you mean by horrid?”
“I mean I know I keep on ending up with people like… that first guy.”
“You’re really not going to elaborate on that are you?”
“Not right now,” Todd said.
“I’m tired of being with… scary men, men who are not men. Men who… would prey on a kid if they could. Men who’d rape you if they could. Low lives.”
“Has anyone ever made love to you?”
Todd turned his head away, sharply.
“Have they?”
“Has anyone ever made love to you?” Todd said back.
“No, not really,” Brian admitted. “But… we could make love. If you wanted to.”
There was no seduction, and no begging. It was just a statement.
“You just said you knew about Fenn?” Todd said. “Do you… do you get a pleasure in taking stuff from him?”
“I never took anything from Fenn,” Brian said. “I tried. I failed. I knew Tom didn’t care about me, and when Fenn left him, Fenn was all that was on his mind. Fenn IS all that is on his mind. And you, you’re in love with him right now. But he’s not going to have you right now, is he? And he’s not going to make love to you all night, is he? Not now.”
Todd said nothing.
“But I’m here,” Brian said. “I’m here, and I’m willing, and I get you, and I… this’ll sound strange, but I want to do something good.”
“You want to pity fuck me?”
“No, cause I don’t feel sorry for you. I just get you. And I think you get me better than you think and… call it fucking or whatever, but loving is something people need. To pretend it isn’t is just bullshit, and if we can offer it to each other we should. I want to offer it to you. I want to sleep with you, Todd. All right?”
Todd’s mouth was filled with saliva, and the blood rushed to his groin. He was dizzy with need and desire and Brian wasn’t begging or lying or being suave. He smelled no perfume. He smelled Brian, the sweat in his shirt, his breath, not bad, but strong. Brian very real and flesh and blood, his long hand placed lightly on Todd’s, the first beautiful man who’d ever offered himself, the first true and beautiful gentleness.
Todd caressed Brian’s hand and then their hands folded firmly together, and Todd Meradan said:
“All right.”

“I can change the sheets.”
“That’s not necessary,” Todd said.
“I didn’t expect this to happen,” Brian explained. “The house should be clean for you. This bed should be.”
“It’s all…” Todd began as Brian went briskly into his bedroom.
“Right,” the other syllable hung.
Todd followed Brian. By now, in the lowlit bedroom, he was pulling the sheets away, furiously. He had a roll of sheets, and he placed it down. Todd opened the closet door and seeing it was the linen closet, handed Brian sheets.
“We don’t have to remake the bed,” Brian told him. “We can just… lay down new sheets.”
Todd nodded, and helped Brian to do this.
Brian’s mouth was wet and gentle on his own. Todd always thought it would be hard, or demanding. His cheeks were bristly even though he’s shaved and Todd’s arms went to Brian’s shoulders, down his back, into his hair, across his face. They lurched toward the bed, and then away and then in a moment Brian was pulling up Todd’s tank top and running his hands over the hair of his chest. Todd was unfastening, with difficulty, Brian’s belt, and then Brian laughed gently, and helped him with it, and in a few moments he was pulling down those briefs, and in the deep brown gold light of afternoon they beheld each other before Todd pulled him to the bed.
Their bodies moved together, trading top to bottom, kissing up and down. Todd took Brian in his mouth for a long time, and Brian’s head went back, his fingernails clutching the covers, and then Brian’s perfect body was over him in the early darkness, and Todd’s hands were going up and down it’s smoothness.
“I want to fuck you now,” Brian said.
And at the edge of the bed he did. It had been so long, Todd was shocked by the entry, and then it just felt… right. It just felt good to be filled with Brian and feel Brian’s hands pushing on his shoulders, pushing on the bed around him. It felt good to reach around and pull Brian’s into him, pressing on the firmness of his ass. It felt good to moan, to cry out with the joy of it, pulling him in, running his hands up and down him, hearing the rhythm of Brian slapping into him, slapping quicker, quicker, murmuring with a triumph, bowing so that Todd’s hands were in his hair.
“Uh God… uh, God… uh…”
The coming.

It was dark when Brian came that second time and lay on the bed, his chest rising and falling, Todd beside him.
“I needed that,” Brian said. “I needed you inside me.”
They were quiet a long time. Outside a car passed by.
“You in a hurry?” said Todd.
“Not at all,” Brian told him. “In fact, you could stay. Would you like to stay?”
Todd thought about it. The weight of Brian beside him in the bed felt so good, The way he felt inside, when he squeezed himself and felt Brian there, and remembered Brian taking him in, riding his chest, was still with him. And Fenn saying, “Find someone to fuck…”
Well, Fenn had said find some dumbass to fuck, actually.
It felt so good here, now.
“Yes,” Todd said, pressing his body close to Brian’s. “Yes, I would.”

Brian Babcock observed his face in the mirror. It was a handsome enough face. That was the problem with it. It was not, say, a hot face, or a noble face, or a face that lit up with joy and captivated people. It was not in any way a striking face. It was a normal face, and right now, an unshaven face. A ball cap was crammed over his head. It was a sad looking face, impossible to make cheerful. And in the low light of the lamp by the bureau in the little hotel room, he tried and failed to make it look a little cheerful.
But, now, that was the problem too. It wasn’t cheerful. Not even a little bit. Nor had it ever been. An hour or so ago, his cell phone had buzzed him into consciousness, the credit card people, conscientious, yes, but annoying.
“We have you checked in a Day’s Inn on Calumet Road.”
“No,” Brian said, upset, “I’m at the Holliday Inn on Kentland.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man over the phone said. “Yes, that’s right. You have a good night, Mr. Babcock.”
“Yes,” said Brian, feeling a little disturbed, a trifle annoyed. “Thank you.”
He ran a hand over his jaw and said, “I am Brian Babcock.”
He hated the sound of his voice, the accentless-ness of it, the tight stick up the assness of it, the very gayness of it. He said it again, “I am Brian Babcock.” This time slower, over and over again, slower and slower, forcing himself to listen to himself.
When he was tired of this, Brian sighed and collapsed on the bed, folding his hands over his stomach. What a burden existence was. Not that he wanted to kill himself, not just yet. And who would miss him? But what if he could just blink out? For a bit. Now, there was an idea. Better than sleeping, sleeping was the illusion you weren’t there, that’s why depressed people liked it so much. What if, when it just got too much, you could pop out for a bit and them exist again when you were ready?
Of course, now, not existing, I wouldn’t be able to make a decision, now would I? No. Better to… simply… set an alarm before I pop out. Yes, some sort of alarm here, in the real world that was always, always unmercifully going on, could call you back after eight hours. Or days. Ten days. Or years for the truly tired.
“And how much better than death.”
It would be like a timeshare. Existing, existing for about, ah… twenty year stretches and then popping out, popping out to let another generation have some fun, and then popping back in. Eventually you were bound to meet everyone again, everyone you’d lost.
“Because...” Brian reflected out loud, “we would overlap.”
It seemed, momentarily, such a good idea, that Brian decided if he focused all of his efforts on it he could make it so, and make everything else that had happened around him… not so.
“If,” Brian began, running a long finger along his jaw, “I’d snuffed out at twenty I would be coming back in about five years. And I wouldn’t have done any of the things I’ve done.” He cackled to himself.
I’d still be a virgin bound for the priesthood. I’d still think I was straight!
There were, of course, other things that would not have happened, but these were not funny. They were painful, and he didn’t want to look at them. Not just now.
There was a tap at the door.
Who could that be? No one he knew. He was outside of his own hometown, and no one knew he’d come back. There was another knock. Let them keep knocking. Will yourself to sit still. They’ll go sooner or later.
This time the knock was harder and Brian frowned and then heard his name.
“Open up, Bri! I know you’re in there.”
Brian got up as if it were the voice of God, which it might as well have been for all Brian’s power to identify it. He opened it.
“Todd?”
“Thank God,” Todd walked in, shutting the door behind him and collapsing in the chair, legs wide apart.
Brian looked at him, blinking in misbelief.
“You look like shit,” Todd said. Then, “So do I, I guess. But… you. Wow.”
“What are you doing here, Todd?” Brian said again, again hating the sound of his voice.
Todd, whose voice was light and lose laughed and said, “I’m here to bring you home!”

 

[CharmedFan28]

Interesting flashback about Brian and Todd! I did not even think that they had a past together. I am glad Brian is alive at least though I am still disappointed in him for what he did. Excellent writing and as usual I look forward to the next section!

 

[ChrisGibson]

There will be more tomorrow night. Thank you for reading. I feel like Brian's behavior is consistently wicked so far.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER
ONE

SHOOT OUT CONCLUSION


“WHAT THE HELL is going on over here?” Layla said when she walked into the house.
“Nothing,” her uncle said, “and mind your manners. Aren’t you supposed to be at some dinner at Dena’s house?”
“I already went. It was good. I was tired.”
“Are you still mad at her?”
“I just told you, Fenn,” Layla said. “I got tired. Besides, Will was making speeches and toasts, and going on about, ‘To friendship! To friendship!’ And I just heard about this dinner an hour before it happened—Barb?”
“Layla, honey how are you?”
“Is there a party going on here?”
“A bit of one,” said Barb. “Why don’t you pull up a chair and get a drumstick.”
Layla nodded and said, “You staying, Claire?”
“For the night. I wish I’d been at that dinner.”
“It was really just a bunch of us trying to be forgiving,” Layla said. Then, because she was Layla, she moved past Paul and said, “I do know you, I just can’t place your face.”
“I’m Noah Riley.”
“Actually, I don’t really know Paul, either,” Layla admitted. “Isn’t it funny how you see folks all the time, but you don’t know them.”
“Noah used to work with me,” Paul said.
“You do porn too—ouch!” she said when Fenn kicked her.
“And I thought you said you didn’t really know people,” Paul murmured.
Layla shrugged as she picked a biscuit out of the chicken bucket. “Knowing what you do is not knowing who you are.”
“Thank you!” Claire said. “Now if only we could tell Kirk that.”
“Who the hell is Kirk? And by the way, where is Todd?”
“Todd went to go search for Brian.”
“Brian? Brian Babcock?”
“Um hum,” Fenn nodded.
“Whaddo you mean go search for him?”
“He sort of… ran away,” Claire said.
“Why?”
Paul looked very uncomfortable, and Claire leaned in and whispered to Layla, “I’ll tell you everything. Later. I promise.”
Layla, who knew when to shut up, nodded her head and said, “Good chicken. Greasy enough, but not over greasy.”
“Fenn, do you have pop?”
“In the fridge,” Fenn said, biting on a chicken breast. “Todd got it before he left.”
Layla nodded and the kitchen door swung shut behind her.
“I’m so nervous,” Paul said.
“About?”
“Does it matter? This whole day! I’m so sick. Everything that’s been happening. I’m just waiting for something better to happen. Or something worse. I don’t know.”
“I got so sick today,” Noah said.
“I know,” Fenn remarked. “None of us can use the upstairs bathroom now.”
“That gun in my mouth,” Noah said. “That was the worse. The inside of me just melted. That’s why I’ve been sick the whole afternoon. Any coolness I ever tried to have just went out the window then.”
“I think,” Barb said, wiping her fingers off on a napkin, “this is the sort of day that a good night’s sleep will make a hell of a lot better.”
“Amen!” Claire said, and the kitchen door swung open and Layla came back out with a grape soda.
“Now…” Layla said, “I know that you all say nothing’s going on…?”
“Yes?” Fenn looked up at his niece.
“But if nothing’s going on—”
“How come everyone’s acting so funny?” Paul interrupted.
“No,” Layla said at length. “I was going to say; How come there’s a dead body in the basement?’”





“You drove across three states to find me?”
“Yup.”
“How?”
“You know the credit card company?”
“What? Did they give you my whereabouts? That’s gotta be illegal—”
“No,” Todd shook his head. “I was the credit card company. You gave me your whereabouts.”
Brian stared at him, incredulous, then said, “Why on…earth?”
“Because everyone wants you back.”
“Everyone,” Brian said, “does not want me back.”
Todd considered this, then said, “Well, that’s true enough. But I was worried, and so was Fenn—”
“Fenn?”
“Yes. So he sent me. More or less. I mean, it was my idea, but he would have been disappointed in me if I hadn’t seen it through.”
Brian turned away and looked out of what would have been the window, but was a shut curtain.
“I can’t go back,” he said, at last.
“Why not?”
“Whaddo you mean, why not? I can’t go back after what I did.”
“Then are you going to your family?”
“I can’t do that either.”
“Then where?”
“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know… all right? I was just figuring that out when you showed up, Todd.”
Todd nodded his head and continued to sit down.
“Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Yes,” Brian said tightly.
A moment later he smelled smoke and turned around to see Todd had lit a cigarette and was exhaling.
“Well, if you’re not going back home, and you’re not going into town, then I guess it’s only one thing for me to do,” Todd said.
“Leave?”
“My, you are rude,” Todd told him. “That’s why you don’t have friends. No.”
“Then what?”
Todd smiled: “Stay with you until you decide.”

“Okay, so how did you stumble on a dead body on your way to get a pop?”
“How was there a dead body for me to stumble on my way to get a pop?”
“I asked first,” Fenn said.
“Well, I said, is there a pop? And you said in the fridge. At home Mom calls the refrigerator in the kitchen the frigidaire and the fridge in the basement the fridge. So naturally I went to the basement. It’s a common mistake.”
Fenn looked at his niece, incredulous, and then said, “No, it isn’t!”
“And, anyway, Fenn, I think it’s you who has some explaining to do for me. Cause I’m your poor niece, who you should be protecting from all the shit of this world, and I’m already traumatized enough. And then I find a body, covered in…. a mess.”
“It’s quicklime,” Barb supplied. “And by the way, I gotta go.” She rose up from the table, putting her purse over her shoulder. “Thanks for the great meal.”
Fenn replied, “Thanks for… saving out lives.”
“Well, now you have to explain,” Layla said.
“A killer was after me,” Noah said. “Because he thought I stole, we stole, about half a million dollars.”
“And so… you killed him.”
“No,” Noah said, “there was a gun fight and Lee killed him.”
“Cousin Lee?” Layla turned to her uncle.
Fenn nodded.
“He has a gun?” Then, “Of course he has a gun! And why did this man think you all stole half a million dollars?”
Fenn looked at Paul. Paul looked at Noah, and then Noah looked back at Fenn.
“Uh…” said Fenn, scratching his ear rapidly, “because we kinda sorta… did.”
Layla stared blankly at her uncle.
“We didn’t so much steal it as find it,” Fenn continued. “It would have been confiscated by the police anyway, so we decided it should be confiscated by us. And it turned out to belong to this drug dealer who was making a drug deal at the party where… well, it’s a very long story.”
“Tell me.”
“Tell me too,” Claire said.
“It’s the party where me and Paul sort of joined up with Fenn. And Todd,” Noah explained. “But it’s all really complicated. More complicated than I know how to get into right now.”
“You know not to tell this to your mother,” Fenn said to his niece. “Or anyone.”
“I know that,” Layla snapped. “But I want the whole story.”
“And you’ll get it, niece,” Fenn said. “But not at this moment. All you need to know is this guy saw Noah at the party and so he was sure Noah had taken the money.”
“And now he’s dead,” said Noah.
“And now he’s dead.” Layla repeated.
The chicken leg was forgotten in her hand. She said, “And what if there were other people. Like…. What if he had friends?”
“We’re in luck there,” Lee said. “He didn’t have any friends, and from what I get, they’d be glad to see him go.”
Layla shook her head.
After awhile she said, “You know what the problem is with this town? It’s too much going on! Why can’t I move to someplace a little less exciting?”
“Like East Carmel?” Claire said.
“Like Chicago,” Layla declared, flopping down in her chair.

More in a couple of nights

 

[CharmedFan28]

I wish I could write as good as you! Maybe one day lol. I think this body might lead to trouble but I am hoping it doesn't. Its good that Todd isn't giving up on Brian despite what he did.

 

[ChrisGibson]

I really appreciate that. I just want to say, to end all unnecessary suspense, the Joe Callan drama is officially over. I mean, little stuff might happen, but all the danger is done. At least... regarding that body. I'm so glad you enjoyed.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER
TWO

THE FALL OUT

Brendan heard his name called, and turned around to see Dan Malloy.
“Can I have a word with you?”
“Sure, Father.”
“How are you? You’re not busy, are you?”
“No, Father. I’m good.”
“You ready for a new year to start?”
“Not just yet, actually,” Brendan Miller confessed. “But we got a few weeks, right?”
“Yeah. Senior year?”
“Yes?”
“Have you seen any schools you like?”
“Not yet. I thought about Loretto.”
“Well, look,” Dan said, “can we have a seat? I didn’t call you to ask about schools and your future. Let’s just have a seat. All right?”
Brendan nodded and followed Dan Malloy to a pew.
“I… I heard about everything. You and Dena. And…” Dan said in a low voice, “You and Kenneth.”
Brendan’s face went hot and Dan said, “I know. We’re in church. We’re not supposed to discuss things. Not real things. It’s like some things don’t exist. But they do exist, Brendan. And no matter what I can’t say and can’t do publicly, when one of my parishioners, especially one who is a friend and who I have looked after since he was very young has been in trouble, then he deserves the truth. He deserves all the help I can honestly give him.
“I failed you, Brendan.”
“No!” Brendan said. “No, don’t say that.”
“You came to me for real help with real questions, and I failed you. Do you know someone actually told me that? Told me I had failed you and I should have been more honest.”
“Who, Fenn Houghton?”
Dan laughed with surprise.
“I just don’t know who else would say that to a priest. Except maybe, Layla.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter who it was. What matters was he was right. When you came to me and told me you thought you might be gay, that you had all of these feelings you didn’t understand—”
Brendan snickered.
“What?”
“I think,” Brendan said, sadly, “that I understood them a little too well. I hurt two other people and made a jackass of myself because I ignored that understanding.”
“Well, I could have made it less painful, Bren.”
“How?”
“I could have told you I know how you feel.”
“How can you know how—?” Bren started, and then shut up.
“They say,” Dan continued with a half smile, “that three fourths of the priests in the world can tell you how you feel. But none of us admits it. It… It would be too much of a stumbling block, too much reality for too many people. So you just don’t ever bring it up. It’s not hard. That’s how church works. People like to make little jokes about Poor Father… like the one, how’s it go? I saw two priests at a candlelight dinner. I didn’t know to give them a bottle of wine or a Cub Scout.”
“That’s… awful.”
“It’s what everyone says, and jokes about,” Dan said. “But if… you really, really, in your heart believed your priest was a homosexual…” Dan shook his head, “too much reality! And then, some of them, some priests, they don’t know it themselves. They never… had a lover or anything like that.”
“Did you?”
And then Brendan covered his mouth. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my business.”
“I’m afraid it is,” Dan said. “I’m afraid you would have been a lot happier if I told you the truth.
“I was like you. But when I was a little older I met someone who also wanted to be a priest, and we became very close. In fact that’s exactly what we were. Lovers. And we loved each other for a very, very long time.”
“What happened? “ Brendan said. “I mean, you didn’t do… what I did? Betray him? Pretend it wasn’t real?”
“No,” Dan said. “The love did what it did. Loves are different. It changed. I wanted to be a priest really, really badly. At first I went to just test it. He, the boy I loved, told me I had to. In the end I found out I was a priest, and he found out who he was too. It isn’t always heartbreak. Everything doesn’t end. Sometimes it just changes. We’re still very close.”
Brendan nodded.
“That must be good.”
“It is very good!” Dan discovered. “He’s still the love of my life. Him and the priesthood.”
Brendan didn’t say anything right away. He just thought about this. Then he spoke.
“I treated Kenny so badly. We need to… I need to get back to where we were. I need to figure out things.”
“Is he the love of your life?”
“You think I’d know if he was?” Brendan said. “I’m just seventeen. I know… I know I like him, and enjoy…”
“The sex?”
Brendan looked shocked.
“The sex?” Dan said again.
Brendan nodded his head and said, “I love, love, being with him. But I don’t know if he’s the love of my life. I don’t know if I’ve ruined my chances to be sure. It’s been confusing… since I stopped coming to confession, or really telling people things.”
“But now you know that you can come to confession. At least when I’m in. I wouldn’t go telling Father O’Donell what you just told me.”
“No… he’s pretty traditional.”
“Well, he’s ninety-four this August.”
Brendan nodded and said, “He might not be able to handle me and Kenny, or me being…”
“Gay?”
“Yes,” Brendan said.
“No,” Dan agreed. “Probably not. He’s still having a difficult time adjusting to the news that the world is round.”



“That is turning me on so much!” the nasal voice said. “It’s just. That is so hot.”
The sound of slapping, slapping slapping.
Kirk Hanley sat on the sofa with the remote control, watching the porno, as he had had already done several times.
“Shut the fuck up,” Johnny Mellow said, climbing off of the ass he was fucking and telling the boy who held the jittery camera, “It’s your turn now.”
And then Johnny, that is Paul, climbed on top of the other one, and began determinedly fucking him, literally riding him, the flats of his hands on the boy’s shoulders, holding him down so he could fuck him harder.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Sheila said, coming into the room. “Just stop watching that. I don’t know why you’re torturing yourself.”
“Take…” Johnny Mellow groaned, slapping harder and harder into him, “fucking that, man!”
“I’m not torturing myself,” Kirk said. “I’m… trying to understand.”
“Well…” Sheila said.
“Well, what?”
“I don’t know,” Sheila said. “I don’t know if you are trying to understand. I mean, it seems to me you’d talk to him if you were trying to understand. Or… Nevermind.”
“Or… nevermind what?” he looked up at her.
Sheila Hanley looked unusually thoughtful, and she put a finger to her chin before saying: “It’s only that… I think, if you were trying to understand him, you would go and talk to him. But you’re watching this…”

“Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck me! Harder!
“You like that? You like that, huh… take this!”

“This crazy crap, so I can only guess that you’re trying to understand yourself. How he makes you feel. How all of this makes you feel.”
Kirk looked at her, and then he turned off the movie.
“You should have been a psychologist. Your talents are totally wasted here.”
Sheila frowned at him, and then Kirk said, “Well, hell…
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Well, how do you feel?”
“Oh, don’t ask me that,” Kirk said standing up.
He went to the kitchen and Sheila heard the refrigerator door slam. And then Kirk marched back in and said, “You know what?”
“I feel like I wish he’d come in and asked me to listen to him again. And I wish he’d tell me something that would…. Justify the way I feel about him, how I can’t stop thinking about him. I wish he’d tell me the right thing. And I can’t go to him. I can’t. Last time he came, I turned him away. I cannot go to him.”
Sheila didn’t say anything for a while.
“I know you probably don’t get it,” he said to her.
“No, I get it,” Sheila said. “You’ve got your pride.”
“Is that so bad?”
Sheila shook her head.
“It would be bad if you didn’t have it.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to read some more of Brendan, I hope he works things out with Kenny. Sounds like Kirk is trying to understand Paul's past. I thought they were done for good after what happened but perhaps I was wrong. Great section and I look forward to more!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I look forward to your looking forward. More tomorrow night.

 

[ChrisGibson]

CHAPTER
TWO

THE FALL OUT CONTINUED

“He hasn’t said anything about it yet. In fact, he’s been real good,” Todd said. “But I’m pretty sure I should get back to Fenn. You did sort of ruin his life, and the idea that I’m here with you, when I should be with him is sort of… not that great.”
Brian was about to say, “Well, go then.” But he didn’t mean it. And then, he didn’t really want it. He was literally terrified at the prospect of Todd going away.
“I can’t go back there.”
“Well, you can’t stay in this hotel,” Todd said. “Unless you get a job at a college around here, or become the new organist at a local church. Then you can pay your hotel bill and be the weird guy who lives in the Holliday Inn. You’ll start wearing the same clothes and smelling like cat piss and… It’s gonna get ugly, Bry.”
Against his will, Brian laughed.
“I guess then you could do a film about me.”
“Well, I’d have to, wouldn’t I?”
“I’m scared to go back. I’m scared of facing the damage I’ve done, all the people I hurt. And I can’t make it right. How can I make it right? You always hear, you hear it in church: amend, amend. Well, how do you amend? You can’t really, can you? How can I unmake sending out those movies? Or how can I unmake the movie I made? How can I look at people? How can I say… I’m sorry?”
“Are you sorry?”
“God, yes, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything!
“And… how will I learn my lesson? How will I stop hurting everyone?”
“Everyone makes mistakes. We all hurt people on occasion.”
“Oh, just stop!” Brian said. “It’s not like what I have done. You know it. How do I stop being that person?
“I used to think that… religion was the cure. Go to confession, go to communion and God would cure me of this mean person, this selfish person. But, no. And I’m scared of him. I feel like he’s living in me and I can’t control him.”
Brian’s voice trailed off.
“You know what your problem is?” Todd said, at last. “I mean aside from the fact that you really need a shave and a change of clothes?”
Brian looked up at him.
“You don’t have friends.”
Brian opened his mouth to say something sarcastic.
“You’re all alone. You don’t have anyone to confide in, to share the stuff inside you with. That’s your trouble, Bry. You don’t have anyone to fight the devils with. And you’ve got a lot of devils, my friend.”
“My friend?”
“We were friends. Once.”
“Yes. But then, when you ended up with Fenn, I backed away from that.”
“I guess I did too,” Todd said. “Loyalty and everything. But apparently I came back. I came back when I thought someone needed to find you. So, see, I’m your friend. We’d all be your friends if you wanted.”
“All?” Brian looked at him.
“Fenn, at least.”
“That’s the worst!”
“He’s serious, though.”
“I know,” Brian said. “But I was so, so awful. I know it’s over, but it’s not over for me.”
“Well, don’t you think it should be?”
“Yes,” Brian said, tiredly. “I think everything should be over. All of the old things, I mean. All of the bad things.”


“Milo, there’s someone here for you,” Barb Affren said when she tipped into her grandson’s bedroom.
“And by the way, a rather pretty someone.”
Milo raised an eyebrow and stood up. But as his grandmother went away, she was replaced by Dena Reardon.
“Oh… hi,” he said.
“Hi,” said Dena. “Can I sit?”
Milo nodded and patted the bed.
Dena sat down next to him, and she said, “Well, you know, I was just thinking that…”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering. You know what?” she said. “I know what I want to say. Only… I don’t know how to say it.”
Milo’s face changed, and then he said, “I bet you do know how to say it.”
“Yes,” Dena said, at last. “Are you going to make this easier for me?”
“No,” said Milo. “I won’t.”
“Will you go out with me?” Dena said at once. “Would you like to do that?”
“Yes,” Milo said. “I would have liked to do that a long time ago.”
“I know,” Dena said. “I know I should have asked a long time ago. I should have… realized something about Brendan.”
“You should have realized something about me,” Milo told her. “You knew how I felt, and you went back to that… drip.”
“Bren’s not so—”
“He’s a fucking drip, and you and Kenny… I don’t get it,” Milo shook his head. “I know this sounds vain, but I think I’m hotter than him.”
“I went to Brendan because I was loyal,” Dena said. “Not because he was better. I thought we’d always be together.
“Maybe that’s how it was with my mother. I never understood how she could make that mistake with my dad. And then I turn around and do the same damn thing. I went to him. I believed in him. I think I wanted to help him.”
“Well, now do you think we could help each other? Do you think we could… try to be something?”
“I’d like that, Milo.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Nothing.”
“Let’s go out. Let me take you out.”
“All right. I walked.”
“We’ll take my car. Where are we going?”
“I have no idea.
Milo sang:


Take the throttle o’er of my hand
If I can’t have you no one can
Lock the doors and seal the hatches

And Dena smiled because she knew the song, and sang along,

Break my heart and burn this mattress
Take the throttle o’er my hand
If I can’t have you no one can!
Da da da dada da da
Da da da dada da da!

“We’re going out, Grandma,” Milo said.
“Are you all going to start dating each other?”
Dena had never seen Milo go red until now. He went completely crimson.
Layla squeezed his hand and said, “Yes. We are.”
“Good,” Barb told them. “Because Dena, that last boyfriend of yours…. He’s a big homo!”

“I saw you driving around.”
“You knew it was me?”
“I saw your head in the car. Besides,” Ralph said, leaning on the side of his door, “you had Hanley license plates. That was the tip off.”
Kirk smirked and Ralph said, “You wanna stop standing there like an idiot, and come on in?”

“A pornstar? Fuck!”
Kirk nodded his head.
“So, what are you gonna do?”
“There’s nothing to do. I… I ‘ve watched it a couple of times. That’s what I do, watch the porno over and over again. The second one, the one that bastard made, where he was fucking that guy—I can’t watch it.”
“Well, you know, once a pornstar, always—”
“I didn’t know he was a pornstar. I just thought he was a nice guy coming in to buy a car. I thought… I thought he might be the one.”
“Remember when you thought I might be the one?”
“Yeah,” Kirk said. “When you put it that way it seems like I’m really at fault.”
Ralph shook his head.
“We just didn’t work out.”
“I just…” Kirk said, “I just keep thinking about… those movies, seeing him like that. Part of me actually wonders what it would be like to be one of those boys.”
“In the vids. Getting fucked.?”
Prickles went up Kirk’s body.
“Yeah. A little. I just feel so weird. Half angry.”
“And half horny.”
“Yes,” Kirk admitted.
“Is that why you came?” Ralph came.
“Huh?” Kirk shook his head, as if he’d been distracted.
“I mean did you come just to talk, or did you come cause you wanted to fuck?
“Sex clears the head,” Ralph said while Kirk’s groin flooded with blood, while he felt himself getting harder and tried to stop his foot from doing that automatic tapping. The promise of sex always made him like Thumper in Bambi.
“You wanna fuck?” Ralph said again, quietly.
His throat a little dry, Kirk realized why he had come and looked up at his old friend.
“Yes.”

 

[CharmedFan28]

I hope Brian can get his life together and I am glad that Dena is moving on from Brendan. I am starting to think Kirk and Paul are doomed to stay apart. I guess I will have to wait and see.