After the Tuesday of the second week of school, when Jason and Shane came out to me and I to them, we became inseparable friends. We hung out together at school, ate lunch together on and off campus as often as we could, and did things together out of the school context. Our football team was awesome, and all of us had season tickets. My whole family did, in fact. You actually had to buy season tickets at that school if you wanted to make sure you had a seat because there were so many alumni and parents of current students, and of alumni, who wanted to go to the games. We sat together and cheered our young asses off. We were friends, and we were having fun together. The one thing we didn't do was have sleepovers. I would have liked that, of course, but I understood why that was never going to happen among us. They needed privacy, and I respected that. As much time as I spent with Jason and Shane, though, I had a life away from them, too. I emailed the guys in Emerald Beach, including Cody, who was still my best friend, a lot. I spent time with my parents and sister, and I worked out a good bit, too. I had joined a gym that was pretty close to my high school so it would be easy for me to go there right after school before I went home. That meant it was also pretty close to the University of New Orleans. UNO had fabulous facilities, but some guys preferred the atmosphere of a private gym to the university's. The university facilities were co-ed, for one thing, and the place I worked out at was men only. Actually, it was co-ed in the sense that there were morning hours when just women could use it, but the afternoons and evenings were for the guys. I asked about that once, and the manager said that was how the women wanted it. That was fine with me. Given my choice between watching a buff college stud and a plump, middle-aged lady, the stud got my attention every time. Plus, the trainers at the university were all student assistants, and I had heard they didn't really give a shit about the programs they set people up on. They basically got paid just to be there, and they didn't take personal interest in their clients. At my gym, the trainers were all full-time professionals (mostly graduates of UNO), and they seemed to really care about each person. I actually started going there before school took back in for the year. It wasn't really all that far from my house, relatively speaking, and I could get there in about twenty minutes. That wasn't bad time for New Orleans. At first I just did the stuff Rick had taught me to do. It had made some big improvements in me, after all, so why give up a good thing? After a couple of weeks, though, I had one of the trainers do some muscle-mass studies on me and take my body-fat ratio. "Seth, the body-fat ratio is wonderful. It's nine percent, and you can hardly beat that. The muscle mass figures suck, though, dude. Basically, you're mostly bone, and I don't mean that kind of bone, either." That guy was incredibly cute. He was on the small side, probably five six or five seven, but you could see the muscles under his skin. Hell, his skin was so tight you probably could have bounced a tennis ball to the ceiling off his thighs, just by casually dropping it on them. I had never seen him naked, but I got this mental image of him bare-assed on a stand in front of me. I was playing drums on his butt cheeks. I had to shake that image off before my personal drumstick presented itself. I could tell he was Italian, like about half the white people in New Orleans. He had coal black hair that was curly on top and cut short on the sides. It was gelled up good, too, and it shined like it was wet. He had one of those jet black beards that he never could make completely disappear, no matter how closely he shaved, and he had eyes and a smile that could seduce any boy, much less a gay one like me. God, he looked good. I laughed when he said that about me being mostly bone. "You should have seen me six months ago," I said. "I've been working out like crazy [which was a wild exaggeration, if not an outright lie], and I've put on twelve pounds of muscle." "That's good, man, but you and I need to talk program, and we need to talk diet. Let's go to my office." We spent the next hour and a half talking program and diet. That boy took his job very seriously. I would have been content to just sit and stare at him for that time, but he kept asking me questions and wanting to know if I understood what he was saying. Jesus, I thought, let's go back to the bone talk. We never did. That guy's name was Manny, short for Manual, a common name among Italians. He was probably sixth generation New Orleans, but they clung furiously to those kinds of names. Manny set me up with a program, all right, one that just about killed me the first two weeks I followed it. Things got easier, though. "We need to pump it up some," he said at the end of the second week. Oh, my God, I thought. He "pumped it up" by adding weight to the exercises I was doing. I thought it was paying off, though. "Are you eating right, like I told you," he asked me that same day. "Manny, I'm eating right," I said. "And a whole lot." "Water-packed tuna fish and brown rice, right," he asked. "That's a great snack a couple of times a day." "Yeah, and I'm actually starting to crave that shit," I said. He laughed. "I know. It's awful at first, isn't it? It gets better, though, doesn't it?" "Yeah, but I still salivate when I pass McDonald's or Burger King," I said. He laughed. Manny was a genuinely nice guy. He was a college graduate, so he must have been at least in his early twenties. There were pixie-like qualities about him because of his size, but he was a pixie with nice muscles. I could really go for somebody like him, I thought. "Let's do another muscle mass," he said. "You've been working hard for three weeks now, and eating right. Let's see if we can tell a difference." He grinned at me, and I wanted to hug him. We did the muscle mass test, and, yes, we could tell a decided difference. "You're making progress, Seth. I'm proud of you, Bubba," he said. That took me aback. "Did you just call me 'Bubba,'" I asked. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he said. "That's just a habit I have." "No. It's okay. You can call me that anytime you want to," I said. "Okay. I've been thinking about you a lot." My heart stopped. "There's a guy here named Curtis Franklin that I think would be a great workout partner for you," he said. No, I want you, I thought. Manny, I want you. "He's a sophomore at UNO and a hell of a nice guy. I think you guys will like one another. He's here right now. Let's go meet him." He introduced me to Curtis Franklin, Curt to his friends. How had I not noticed him before? Sort of strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, around five eight, five nine. Damn good looking, too. He checked me out well as I walked toward him, and I checked him out, too. "Curt, you're not as tall as Seth is," Manny said, once he had introduced us, "but otherwise you guys are about identical. I think the two of you can help each other out a lot. And remember, I'm always here." "Thanks, Manny," Curt said. Manny excused himself and went off to do whatever it was he did. Curt took my program sheet and compared it to his. "Our programs are identical," he said. "Cool," I said. "Do you mind working out with a younger guy?" "Why would I mind that," he asked. "Well, you know . . ." "You're seventeen, right? Almost eighteen?" "Yeah," I said. How the hell did he know that? Then I remembered my date of birth was on my program sheet. "I just turned nineteen. Your age isn't a problem for me, dude," he said. "Okay. Well, let's get to it," I said. I knew that statement had had a lot of Justin's and Kyle's accents in it, and Curt noticed. "Where are you from," he asked. "I'm from right here, but I spent the summer in Florida with some guys from there and from Alabama. I think I might have picked up some of their accent," I said. "Not really. I'm from Baton Rouge, and some people think I have a Southern accent, too," he said. I didn't think so. "We ought to get started, don't you think?" he said. "Yeah. Let's move it," I said. Curt and I hit it off as workout partners right away. He had a lot of energy and determination, and it was sort of contagious. He would encourage me to make it through the last set of whatever exercise I was doing, and I did the same for him. We got to know one another pretty well, too. He came from a family that was a lot like mine, only he had a brother that was just a year older than him and no sister. His dad had a CPA practice in Baton Rouge, and he had even gone to a Catholic high school that was owned and operated by the same order that ran the one I went to. "So, why didn't you go to LSU?" I asked one day. I thought everybody in Baton Rouge wanted to go there. "I wanted to get away from home, and I wanted to move to the city," he said. "Do you go home every weekend?" I asked. Baton Rouge was only about an hour away, after all, and he had a car. "Naw. My life is here now," he said. "Really? Don't you still have friends there?" "Yeah, I have a few. Seth, I didn't make many friends in high school, and the ones I did make were sort of social outcasts, like me," he said. That surprised the hell out of me. He seemed like a great guy, to me, and I couldn't imagine him being a social outcast. We started going to a coffee shop across the street from the gym for refreshments after we finished our workout. Neither one of us had to watch what we ate, as far as getting fat was concerned, but we didn't just pile it on, either. After a while, I knew that I really liked Curtis, and I was definitely attracted to him sexually. I figured that would go unrequited, though. "What are you doing this weekend?" I asked one Monday afternoon as we were having our post-workout snack. He shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. It's kind of early in the week to know, but I don't really ever have anything going on on the weekend. You got any ideas?" That was the first time he had given any indication that he might be willing to spend time with me away from the gym, and my heart beat a little faster at the thought. "My sister isn't going to use her ticket to our football game Friday night. Would you like to go?" "Yeah. That might be fun," he said. "Let's do it. I usually sit with a couple of friends of mine. Would you mine doing that?" I asked. "Not a bit. I need to meet more people, anyway," he said. "Curt, it surprises the hell out of me that you don't have a ton of friends," I said. "You're a really likeable guy." He blushed, and his fair complexion really showed the red. "Thanks," he said. "Does that mean you like me?" "Of course, I like you. Isn't it obvious that I do?" "I hoped you did. I like you, too," he said. I could tell saying that took a great deal of effort for him. Why was this great-looking, smart, funny, incredibly nice guy so socially backward? It didn't add up. I mean, I knew why I was that way, or had been, at least, but why him? We had been studying the literary device of the epiphany in English class. An epiphany is a sudden burst of insight into a life situation, and I had one of those right there in that coffee shop. If I was socially retarded because I was gay and felt ashamed and isolated, could the same thing be true of Curt? I didn't broach the subject right then, but I decided to keep my eyes on him the rest of the week. We worked out for about an hour or an hour and a half every day except weekends. Manny had set it up so we worked different muscles every time, and going to the gym became part of our daily schedules. Manny had said a lot of trainers have their clients work out every other day, but he thought making a workout a part of every day accomplished more and got people in the habit of scheduling gym into their lives the same way they scheduled in lunch or some other routine activity. Since the workouts weren't all that long, they were manageable, and having a workout partner, especially if he was also a friend, helped, too. I mean, it didn't take me long to get to the point of feeling that if I missed a workout, I'd be letting Curt down. Good psychology on Manny's part, I thought. On Tuesday, a new guy joined the gym. That sucker was built, and the outline of his dick that was very visible through his yellow and black lycra workout shorts was impressive. I noticed Curt checking him out every chance he got. I checked him out every chance I got, too. "Do you think that guy's hard," I asked Curt, in a volume the other guy couldn't hear. He blushed scarlet. "I don't know. Count my reps for me," he said, changing the subject quickly. We both kept looking at the guy, and it was pretty obvious he knew what we were doing. At one point he came over to us. "Do you guys know anybody who's looking for a partner," he asked. Oh, my God, take me, I thought. I'll be your partner for the rest of my life. "Not really," I said. "You might ask Manny." "That hot little cutie is taken," he said. I didn't know what to say. I had no idea what he meant, really. Did he mean that Manny had a workout partner? That Manny had a sex partner? And, if so, was the partner male or female? The fact that the new guy had said Manny was a "hot little cutie" sort of implied that the new guy was gay, I thought. If he was gay, maybe he knew Manny in some other context and knew he was gay, too. "Naw, I don't know anybody," Curt said. "If you hear of anybody, let me know," the new guy said, and he walked away to continue his workout. "That was weird, wasn't it?" I asked. "Maybe not. Let's quit for today, okay? I want to talk to you," Curt said. We had pretty much finished anyway. "Okay," I said. "I want to take a shower today," Curt said. "Have you got a towel? Take one with me." Jesus, I thought. He and I never took showers at the gym. We just sort of dried our hair and face, or whatever, and got coffee in our workout clothes. I had been half hard since I had first noticed the new guy, and I knew my dick was wet and sticky with pre-cum from all that time. I didn't know if I wanted to take a shower. On the other hand, I was dying to see Curt naked. On the nights I didn't think about what Cody and I had done in bed all summer, I thought about Curt. I needed a real visual to flesh out my imagination. "Okay. My mom has asked me a bunch of times why I don't shower before I go home. I probably ought to do it here regularly," I said. Seeing Curtis naked in the shower was sort of cute. I could tell he wasn't used to being naked around other guys, so the fact that he wanted me to shower with him that day really raised my curiosity. He looked at me without even pretending not to. My little dick was about half hard, so it was about three inches long. The practiced eye of Kyle or Justin, or any of them in Emerald Beach, would have known the truth in an instant about the state I was in, but I just pretended that was what I looked like soft. Curt didn't say anything, but he was all eyes for me in that shower. His own equipment was obviously distended to about three-and-a-half inches, but I didn't comment about him, either. That boy was a lot like the guys I had spent the summer with. He was intelligent, kind, easy going, incredibly nice, likeable. Loveable? I couldn't wait to find out what he wanted to talk to me about. At the table, after we had gotten our snack and a drink from the counter, Curt started. "Working out with you has been great. I mean, it is great, every time. It's kind of the highlight of my day," he said. "I like working out, too," I said. "No, Seth. It's not working out that I like. It's working out with you that is so great. I can't hold this back any more, no matter what happens. That new guy today inspired me. Seth, I'm gay. I'm gay, and I think I might have feelings for you," he said. I didn't say anything for a few moments because that admission was like an answer to a prayer. Without saying anything, I took his hand in mine and looked into his eyes. I smiled. That smile was like an angel's touch to him. His face lit up in a huge grin. "Me, too," I said. "Curt, I think about you all the time. I fantasize about you when I, er, you know." "Oh, Seth, me, too. I can't believe how good I feel right now. It's like I've finally connected with another human being. I've felt totally alone and totally isolated since I was twelve years old. All of a sudden, I feel connected. I feel like somebody cares about me and knows me for the first time. I might be about to cry," he said. "Curt, I spent six weeks this summer in a house full of gay guys in Florida. I had a boyfriend, even, although we've decided since then that we were just good friends with special privileges. Until I met those Florida guys at Mardi Gras last year, I was a basket case. I felt totally alone and totally isolated, too. I didn't have any friends. I didn't even want to be around people. They are so incredible, Curt. And they're going to love you, too. I know they will," I said. He was crying, but he had a massive grin on his face. I teared up, too. All of a sudden, I craved ice cream. I chuckled. "What's funny," he asked. "We're having an ice cream moment," I said. "That's what we did in Florida whenever we had happy tears like we're having right now. We'd make huge bowls of ice cream, with a million different toppings. Could you eat some ice cream right now?" "I could eat a gallon," he said. We went to an ice cream shop in a little strip mall about a block down from where we were. We both ordered huge banana splits, with all the trimmings, and we talked and laughed and reveled in who we were and in what we had shared with one another that afternoon. * * * Curt and I rapidly became best friends. He had a wickedly ironic sense of humor, and he kept me laughing. The more time we spent together, the more we liked one another. "Mom and Dad, this is my friend, Curt Franklin," I said the first time he came to our house. We were really just there to pick up some clothes for me. It was a Friday night, and we had worked out that afternoon, as usual. I was going to spend the night at his apartment, and the next day he was going to try to teach me how to play tennis. "Hi, Curt," my dad said, shaking his hand. "We've heard a lot about you." I'm sure I blushed. I know Curt did. My mom offered us coffee or a coke, and we both said we wanted water. I went up to my room to get my stuff while Curt visited with them. My sister came up with me and barged into my room. "Oh, my God!!! I can't believe how cute he is," my sister, Amy, said. She was obviously excited for me. "He is, isn't he? But he's all mine. Keep your claws off," I said, joking. She was laughing and having fun. Since the summer, she and I had gotten pretty close, and I now considered her a good friend. I knew she was happy for me. "How old is he?" "He's nineteen, sis. Way too old for you," I said. "Oh, I know. But, Seth, he is gorgeous," she said. I thought he was, but I was a bit prejudiced. "Have you guys done it, yet," she asked. "Amy, that's not a fair question," I said. "I'd never ask you that." "I'm sorry, Seth. I guess that's pretty private, isn't it?" "It's very private." The fact of the matter was, we hadn't done it yet, whatever it was going to be. We had kissed quite a bit, and we had rubbed each other's chests, but so far that was all. That night was going to be the first time I had stayed at his apartment, and I was hoping that was going to be the night. After we left my house, we went to an Olive Garden for dinner. The salad was wonderful, as it always is, and my entree was excellent: spaghetti with meat sauce and Italian sausage. Curt got the lasagna, and I knew it was good, too. I had had it there before. "Curt, do you find me physically attractive?" I asked. "What?" "You heard me," I said. He chuckled. "I didn't say 'what' to mean I didn't hear you. I said 'what' to mean, 'How can you possibly wonder if I find you physically attractive?' Of course, I do." "I was just wondering," I said. "Do you find me physically attractive," he asked. "Extremely," I said. "I stay hard just about all the time we're together. I physically crave you, man. When we kiss, it's like I can't control myself." "You've shot off a few times doing that, haven't you?" he asked. "Yes, I have," I said. "I know. I have, too," he said. I had suspected that was true, but I hadn't known for sure. What were we waiting for? "I want to make love to you, Curt. Tonight," I said. "Are you ready for that?" "Say it again." "I want to make love to you tonight." "Say it again." He was teasing me, and I was grinning. "I want to make love to you tonight." "I'm ready for that, Seth. I'm ready for love," he said. "I've never done it before, though." "That won't be a problem, Huck," I said. He reminded me of what I thought Huckleberry Finn must have looked like, and I liked the name Huck. "Let's forget the coffee, okay?" We had already ordered coffee, but it hadn't gotten there yet. "Noooo," he whimpered. That made me laugh. He was so cute. We drank our coffee, but we didn't linger over it. We were at his apartment as fast as the law allowed. Faster, actually, but we didn't see any cops. * * * We both moved fast when we got back to his place. I had been hard since we had first gotten to the restaurant, and my underwear and the front of my jeans were soaked. Pre-cum might have biological purposes that I didn't know about, but it sure was a pain in the ass to horny boys. We didn't waste any time grabbing each other in an embrace. We were both very turned on, and we were a little messy with the kissing, at first. It was like we each wanted all of ourselves in the other one's mouth all at the same time. We were both breathing harder than we ever did in our workouts. We started grabbing each other's clothes, but that was pretty inefficient. We weren't really getting anywhere. "Let's slow down," I said. "We've got all night." "Okay," he whispered with what little breath he had. We started slowly undressing each other. Well, maybe "slowly" was an overstatement, but slower, anyway. When we had our shirts off, we couldn't help embracing, rubbing our chests together. "God, this feels so good, Seth," he gasped. "I know," I said in reply. Our jeans came off next, and then our underwear. Feeling his hard dick rubbing against mine as we stood and kissed was more than I could take. It was a splash dance for me, and he followed seconds later. It was so good. That was the start of our first night together, and we continued playing with each other and loving each other for a long time. The next morning we went out to a breakfast buffet. "Last night was unbelievable for me. Thank you so much, Seth," he said. "It was pretty unbelievable for me, too, and thank you," I said. "Does this mean we're boyfriends," he asked. "What else could it possibly mean?" I asked. "Although, I've thought of you as my boyfriend for over a month." "I know. Me, too. You have made me so happy, Seth," he said. "The same here, man," I said. The boys in Emerald Beach were constantly doing stuff to each other, and I took their example as my own. I dipped my finger into the pancake syrup that was still on my plate, and I swiped it across his nose. It was an act of affection that was acceptable in a "boy world," and it made him laugh. He only dabbed at it to keep it from running down his face. "I'm going to stick this sweet, sticky nose in your ass later on," he said, "and then I'm going to lick it clean." We both laughed, but I hoped it would be true.
"So when are we ever going to go see that battleship," I asked. Every time we passed that damn thing, Kevin and Rick acted like it wasn't there. That was a damn World War II battleship turned into a museum, and I wanted to see it. That was a boy's museum if ever there was one. Kevin had told us Mobile was the oldest city in the United States where nothing of any historical importance had ever happened. I didn't know if that was right or not, but they had that big ole boat, and I wanted on it. Kevin had some prejudices about cities, and Mobile was near the top of his list. Mobile was older than New Orleans, a fact that pestered Kevin like jock itch or athlete's foot. It had the first Mardi Gras in North America, too, and that absolutely pissed Kevin off. Frankly, I didn't get it, but he didn't like Mobile. While Mobile wasn't his favorite city, he fucking hated Houston. "Houston is a New Orleans wannbe, and they won't ever be able to pull it off. They tried to buy Mardi Gras, but Blaine Kern, the guy who makes the floats, said NO!!!" he told me one time. "Kevin, I think you're getting a little bit worked up. Houston is a big city, man," I said. "I know, and there's too damn much money there," he said. Too much money? I had trouble with the concept. "They once tried to divert the Mississippi River to make it pass through Houston instead of through New Orleans. Can you imagine?" No, I couldn't imagine re-routing a river, but I guess some engineers could imagine it. "Calm down, Bubba," I said. He started laughing, and I laughed, too. "How do you feel about Atlanta," I asked. We were both still laughing. "Don't even talk to me about that upstart place. Their whole culture is based on a 1948 novel," he said. I didn't know what he was talking about, but I could tell he cared about it a lot. Kevin was always so in control, always so much the daddy to us. I loved it that he had a weak spot. "I think I found your Achilles knee," I said. "It's the Achilles heel, not knee," he said. "Oh, yeah," I said. * * * The USS Alabama was part of Battleship Memorial Park. It was like this huge World War II museum. Besides the Alabama, they had the Drum, which was a submarine that did thirteen war patrols in World War II, the eighth most of any sub, and twenty-three battle airplanes, from World War II to Desert Storm. The Drum got twelve battle stars. That park was just about as good as all that sports stuff was in Birmingham. I was thinking Alabama had a lot more to offer to tourists like us than I ever knew about. I hadn't done a Web search for stuff about Mobile because I didn't think we were ever going to do more in that area than stop to take a piss in Daphne, but I was damn sure going to find out what they had for our next trip. I had never before been on a Navy ship, and I was surprised at how compact that Alabama was. Everybody knows what a bunk bed is: a bed above another bed. Well, yeah, except in a ship. A bunk bed was three, four, and five bunks stacked up on that boat. They had 2,500 people they had to have living space for a real long time, and they made space for them. Imagine! There were 2,500 guys on that ship. If they're right about the percentages, there were at least 250 gay guys on it. That's a damn good crowd. I'll bet there weren't more than 101 guys doing anything, though. 100 guys fucking and one guy watching. Hehehe. I absolutely loved that Battleship Park place. We went into the hanger they had and saw the planes. I wished they would let you get in them, but you couldn't. You could climb a ladder to a platform at the top to look in the cockpit, though. "Why do they call where the pilot sits the cockpit," I asked. "Cause they had to take their cocks out when they got up in there," Justin said. "For real?" Tim asked. "Yeah, for real. Why not? It was just guys," Jus said. "That's bullshit, and you know it, Bubba," I said. "Well, what's your explanation?" he asked. "Well, I don't have one, but I know that can't be right," I said. "Do you know, Kevin?" "No," Kevin said. "I'll bet it has to do with the cockpit at a cockfight," Rick said. "It's the place where the fighting went on." "Now, see. That makes sense," I said. "I went to a cockfight one time in Alabama," Jus said. "A little ole country town. It was in a barn, and they really did have a pit dug in the floor." "Did you watch them fight?" Brian asked. "A couple, but mostly I was too busy fighting the other kind of cock," Justin said. "Who won?" I asked. "I did. I made every last one of them surrender and get soft," he said. We all laughed, except Denny, who didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Justin almost never said anything about what he used to do when he was with that Jackson guy, but when he did, it was always pretty funny. Rick put his arm around Justin's shoulders and hugged him. "I love you, Bubba," Rick said. Justin grinned, and he got these big ole tears in his eyes. "Rick speaks for all of us," I said. "We all love you, Stud." "Y'all stop trying to butter me up. Y'all know I don't fight cocks anymore," he said. We all laughed so hard I thought they were going to ask us to leave. That was one gift shop I didn't mind spending a few minutes in. I bought me a USS Alabama baseball cap, and that was going to be my cap for that trip. The rest of them bought something, too, either a cap or a tee shirt. Tim bought him a sailor hat, and it looked cute on him. * * * "Are we going to be able to call Seth tonight?" I asked while we were going over that big-ass bridge over the lake. "It might be a little late tonight," Kevin said. "I can't wait to meet his boyfriend," I said. "Seth has a boyfriend? When did this happen?" Kevin asked. "About a month ago, I reckon," Jus said. "So how come everybody knows all about what Seth's been doing but me?" Kevin asked. "I didn't know about the boyfriend, either, Babe," Rick said. "We send email back and forth two or three times a week, Kev," I said. "He's still our brother, you know?" "I know. He and I exchange email, too," Kevin said. "Maybe he just forgot," Tim said, trying to make Kevin feel less left out. "What about Chris? Does he have any secret romantic interests?" Kevin asked. "As a matter of fact, he does, but he ain't getting laid yet," Justin said. "What!?" Kevin jerked the wheel just then because he turned around to look at us. "You know Chris is up on sticks, don't you?" I asked. "Hell no, I didn't know that," Kevin said. "Did you?" he asked Rick. "Yeah, I knew it. I figured you did, too," Rick said. "I'm sorry, Babe." "We got to get us a email fix," Justin said. "I'm pretty pissed off right now at Seth and Chris for leaving Kevin and Rick out of the loop. Shit, that ain't right, and they should both know better than that." I knew my brother well enough to know when he was pissed off, and he was pissed off right then. That was for sure. "Justin, before you start taking your brothers out, I think you need to analyze the situation, man," I said. "Analyze what, Kyle? That they didn't think enough of Kevin and Rick to tell them about a new boyfriend and about walking on crutches? Those two fuckers are on my shit list, man." "Whoa, Stud. Calm down, man," I said. "What if they really did forget? Or they thought we would tell them? I mean, Chris told Rick. It wasn't like it was a fucking secret that he was up and walking. Maybe Seth didn't think they would be interested. Or maybe he thought we would tell them. Don't be so hard on them, man. They're your fucking brothers, Justin." There wasn't a peep in that car after I said all of that. Justin had his arms crossed against his chest, and I knew what that meant. He was thinking. "I can't let them do that to Kevin and Rick, Kyle," Justin said. "Am I your brother and your best friend, Justin?" I asked. "Kyle, don't start that shit. You know you are. But this ain't about us, man." "Follow me, here, Bubba. You trust me, don't you?" "Kyle, I said don't start that shit. You know I trust you. This ain't about us," he said. "Justin, shut the fuck up and listen, okay? I know it ain't about us, but it's about two of our brothers. You're thinking right now that Seth and Chris have shut Kevin and Rick out of their lives, and I'm here to tell you that's not what happened. Those boys love Kevin and Rick as much as we do." "I doubt that," he said. "Well, maybe not, but they love Kevin and Rick, and you can't deny that," I said. "No, I'll give you that. At least they did love 'em," he said. "Yo, Justin! Do you trust me or not?" "Yeah, I trust you, Kyle. You know I do," he said. "Well, trust me on this. Seth and Chris are not shutting Kevin and Rick out of their lives. I know for a fact that they both think Kevin and Rick saved them at a time they needed saving," I said. "But they love them because they're Kevin and Rick, just like we do." Justin lit up a cigarette, his first of the trip, as far as I knew. He offered his pack to me, but I waved him off. He cracked the window next to him to let the smoke out. "Kyle, I don't want to be mad at Seth and Chris," he said. "I love those guys." "I know you do, Jus. Let's wait and see, okay?" "Okay," he said. * * * When we got to Grandma and Grandpa's house, the whole gang was there: Craig and Cherie, Seth and Curt, and Grandma and Grandpa, of course. There was much hugging and kissing and carrying on, and it was a grand reunion. The New Orleans people hadn't met Denny yet, and I watched Grandma zero in on him like a hawk on a dove. She had a new grandson to love, and she didn't waste any time getting to him. "I'm so glad for you guys to finally meet Curt," Seth said. "I talk about you guys all the time, and I know he probably thinks y'all are gods or something." Seth said that like Kevin and Rick knew all about Curt. "Now do you think he was hiding him?" I asked Justin. "No. He thought we all knew who Curt was," Justin said. "Exactly. Seth's smart in books, but . . . " "Yeah, I know. You and me are smart in people, right?" "I don't know about you," I said. "I was smart enough to trust you, wasn't I?" "Yeah. You know I'm teasing you, don't you? You're very smart in people, Jus. We're going to make an awesome team one of these days, dude." "Shit, I think we make a pretty awesome team now." |