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As I sat on the floor, the anger at my grandfather slowly dissipated as I realized that my beloved mother somehow was responsible for all this. It was a certainty that if she hadn't wanted things the way they were it would never have happened. God, what a fucked up woman - to take another woman's husband, a man she hadn't in the least loved, just to raise a child she didn't want to begin with. How had she managed to manipulate two strong men like my grandfather and John - my real father? Where had he been all those miserable years when I was growing up? Lost in thought, with the photos scattered around me, the phone rang. I ignored it and it went into message. It was John.

"Karl, I was sure I'd hear from you by now. Are you okay? Please give me a call. Talk to me, Son."

My heart swelled in my chest at that word… Son. At twenty-seven I was finally really a man's son. And then I wondered if John was aware of the contents of that damned white envelope. After all, he'd sent me home to 'deal with it.' I stood up, picked up the phone, and called him back. When he answered, I interrupted his greeting. "I have one question, John. Did you know about the contents of the white envelope?"

He sputtered a moment. "I was aware of the documents. I saw some photos of you as a child and teenager. What exactly are you referring to, Karl?"

"Were you aware of the photos of Clay Langham and Ralph Mobley?"

"I know who Clay is, but who is Ralph Mobley? The name is familiar, but I can't place from where I would know him."

"He was the Dallas Cowboy that outed himself a couple of years ago."

"Oh, yes. And you say there are photos of him and Clay included in the envelope?"

"I assume that you didn't know about them, then." I prayed that he wasn't dissembling.

"I'll be honest with you, Karl." My heart dropped to the bottom of my shoe soles expecting him to say that he'd been in cahoots with my grandfather on all of this. "Saturday afternoon while you were napping, I slipped into your office and quickly looked through the pictures," John admitted, then added, "I'd briefly seen the photos before, but I didn't know who the two men were. Remember, I'd only seen Clay a couple of times and he was a young teenager, then. I didn't know that your grandfather had included those photos until then. I can't fathom why he would have."

I let out a ragged sigh. I supposed that this was the time to start facing up to the world. "John, could you come over? I have some things I need to tell you."

"Can you give me fifteen minutes?"

It was more like forty-five minutes before he showed up. We greeted each other with a hug. He kissed my cheek. "I've just made a fresh pot of coffee," I said to him. "But I suspect that you'll prefer a stiff drink before I'm through."

"Coffee sounds good. It's been a busy day at the bank… with one of my key employees out."

I grinned ruefully at him. "It's a good thing that I am out. With what my dear, departed grandfather dumped on me, you wouldn't have wanted me in the office."

"Good God, Karl. What was so terrible?"

"Let me get our coffee and then I'll tell you everything."

John waited patiently until I handed him his mug and sat down with my own. "So tell me," he said.

I studied the steam coming off my coffee for a moment and then looked him in the eyes. "With no preamble, John, I am gay."

He looked at me as if he expected me to say something more. When I didn't, he said, "So?"

"That's your total response? I've never told another living soul and all you can say is 'so'?"

He grinned and asked, "Am I suppose to say congratulations or something? I've already admitted to you that your grandfather and I were lovers."

I shook my head. "For something so important in my life I just expected something more."

"It's no big deal, Karl. Get over yourself. It doesn't matter to me what your sexual orientation is. It's not going to affect how we relate to each other." He took a sip of his coffee and looked at me over the top of his mug. "So I figure these photos have something to do with this confession?"

I nodded, but made no effort to enlighten him. My brain was running on high speed in at least ten different directions.

"You want me to guess?"

I shook my head. "No, I'll tell you." I took a sip of my coffee and stared into its dark depths. "Damn this is the most difficult thing I've ever had to do."

"Take your time, Son. We've got all night."

I nodded again. "Okay, here goes. You're aware that Clay and I grew up together?"

John nodded.

"He was my best friend." A lump in my throat made further words impossible. I shook my head and wiped my eyes.

"You fell in love with him, and at that tender age it scared you to death."

I nodded.

"So how did you deal with it?" He asked.

"I... I pushed him away, kicked him out of my life; I told him I couldn't be his friend anymore."

"And he accepted it?"

"No, not immediately, he went to his dad and was told to forget about me."

"His dad? I thought he....Oh, you mean Harold."

"Yes, Harold. Clay was always more his son than me. Of course, I now know that he really was his son and I wasn't."

"I'm so sorry about that, Karl. I wish there was some way I could make it up to you."

I glanced at him, then looked away. "Just keep calling me son." Then I wondered if I could ever get to the point of calling him Dad. I'd called Harold 'Father.' 'Dad' was too intimate.

"That I can happily do." He looked happy, then his expression turned to concern.

I took a big breath and continued. "I overheard him - Harold - on the phone telling Clay that what was important was that he was going to be a football star and didn't need me messing up his image."

We both sipped our coffee, lost in our own thoughts.

"It's a weird coincidence," I said. "I ran into Clay a week ago on Wednesday evening outside the bank. I hadn't seen him in almost twelve years."

He looked at me, waiting for more.

"Ralph was with him. I had no idea who he was until I looked him up on the Internet." I sipped my hot coffee again.

"So Clay has stood by Ralph, even after he came out, huh?"

I glanced up at him. "You're not going to assume that he is gay, too?"

He shrugged. "I know he was married and is now raising his son by himself."

"True," I said. He hadn't answered my question. I waited, watching emotions play across his face. He glanced at me a couple of times, then glanced away. Still, I waited for an answer.

After more than a minute of silence, John looked ready to burst. "Karl, I am well aware that doesn't mean that he's not gay." He sighed, and raised his eyes to the ceiling as he said, "As I've already told you, your grandfather and I were both married with children.

It tore at my heart to see the sadness and regret in his eyes.

"We were happy to get what we could," he added.

Having no idea how to express my empathy, I uttered one word, "Dad." It surprised me, I hadn't meant to do that, but seeing him pause as a smile spread over his face made me realize that it had been the perfect response.

"Do you realize what you just called me?" He asked.

I hesitantly nodded.

"Do you know how much that thrills me?"

"Yeah, probably as much as you calling me son." We smiled into our mugs.

I couldn't believe that we were sitting there ignoring the fact that we had both seen the photos and were talking about Clay as if we hadn't.

"Tell me what had you so upset that you confessed to me that you are gay and still in love with Clay."

"I didn't say that I was still in love with him."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I shook my head and said, "That's a juvenile expression."

He ignored my jibe and asked, "Have you ever had one?"

I looked at him a moment and then shook my head again.

"And that's because you're still in love with Clay, right?"

I shrugged and nodded.

"You didn't answer my question," he said.

"It wasn't a question. It was a directive."

"So… tell me," he said with a grin.

I set my mug down and stared at it. "I can't."

"What is so bad that you can't tell me?"

I stared at him and then gave up with a sigh. "You already know if you saw the photos. But I'll show you again." I went into my office and picked up the pictures.

I glanced through them and shuddered. They were so erotic, but what really got to me was that I could see that the two men really cared for each other. I took a couple of deep breaths, adjusted myself, and walked back into the living room. John looked at me expectantly and glanced at my hand holding the photos. I abruptly thrust them at him and fled to the kitchen. I couldn't watch him as he looked at them. Standing at the sink staring out the window, I couldn't get the images of what he was looking at out of my head. I wanted to feel jealous of Ralph, but all I could feel was regret that it wasn't me in the photo instead of Ralph.

I was brought back to the moment when John, standing in the doorway, asked? "You say these are on the Internet?"

I nodded. "I saw only one… with Clay's face turned away from the camera."

"I wonder if Ralph Mobley is aware of this?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. But if he ever Googled his own name, he'd be led right to the site just like I was."

"I wonder if it was because of these photos that he admitted to being gay and thus ended his football career."

"Do you think my grandfather would have done this, or had it done?"

"You mean posted the pic on the Internet? I have no idea, Karl. But even with your grandfather dead, I would think that Ralph could sue his estate, if it could be proven."

"Are you aware that his whole estate is being turned over to me in a month?"

"He didn't discuss it with me, but I assumed that you would be his main heir."

"Dad, I'm his only heir. My mother only gets a stipend - just enough to continue living her lifestyle. I've got to find out if my grandfather was responsible for this. It's abominable to ruin someone's career like that."

"That's admirable of you, Son."

Before Dad left I brought up one more subject that was nibbling at the back of my mind.

"In all the documents that Granddad included in that packet, I can't find one showing that Harold adopted me. My birth certificate states father unknown. So my name isn't really legally Johnson. It's Robles, right?"

"I'm not a lawyer, Son, but I believe that since you've used the name Johnson all your life that it would be your legal name even if Howard didn't adopt you."

I scowled.

"It's quite a simple matter to change your name as long as it's not for illegal purposes. What would be your preference?"

I could see the hope in his eyes that I would choose Dorsett. I felt rather perverse doing it, but I shrugged. "I really need to think this through, Dad. Taking your name would be the logical move, but there are advantages inherent in the name Robles. Plus it would probably irritate my dear sweet mother to no end." I grinned evilly at the thought, and Dad laughed.

"It's you choice, Son. I'll be happy with which ever you choose."

* * *

My grandfather's house (read that as a huge 'old money' mansion) had been locked up by the probate court. I called Mr. Benning and asked him if it would be possible to gain access to my grandfather's computer.

"I don't think the court would object," Mr. Benning replied. "After all, it will be yours in a matter of a few weeks."

While he sought the court's permission, I called Clay's mother and got his phone number. She enthused, "Oh, Karl, you don't know how much it would mean to Clay to hear from you. Even after all these years, he still talks about you as if you were still his best friend."

I sat and stared at the phone for several minutes, getting up the courage to make the call. When I did, it was Ralph who answered. When I asked to speak to Clay, he replied, "Why do you want to disrupt his life anymore than you already have? He's done nothing but mope since he saw you the other night."

"I don't want to disrupt his life, Ralph. But it's imperative that I talk to him."

There was a dead silence on the other end, finally he said, "He'll be back from his class around three- thirty. Call him soon after that." He disconnected.

I felt like saying to hell with the whole thing. It was Ralph I was trying to help, and he was about the rudest man I've ever met. I realized that he was trying to protect Clay, but still......

As it turned out, I didn't have to call back. At three-twenty my phone rang. It was Clay. "Karl, it's so good of you to call. What can I do for you?"

"Can you meet me sometime soon? I have something very important to discuss with you."

"Sure, how about dinner tonight?"

I was surprised by the eagerness in his voice. I had thought that meeting for coffee would be the way to go. It thrilled me that he wanted more, but I had to make sure that I wasn't disrupting his life.

"Wouldn't Ralph object?"

"Ralph's not my keeper. Actually, I'll get him to babysit my son."

"So how does the Barefoot sound? I know it's a bit out of the way, but their upstairs dining room that looks out over the beach is fairly private. Seven okay?"

"Sounds great. I can't wait to see you, Karl."

Five minutes later I got another call, this time from Ralph. "I just want to say one thing, Karl. You hurt Clay again and I'll hurt you.

"I can understand homophobia when you're fifteen and in high school, but if you're still that way, keep it to yourself. JUST - DON'T - HURT - HIM - AGAIN." He ended the conversation by cutting the connection.

I sat staring at the phone in my hand, fuming at the threat he'd made. Eventually I focused on what he'd said. Homophobic? Me? What the hell? He'd intimated that Clay was gay… back then? Had Clay thought that I was pushing him away because I was homophobic? How crazy is that?

At a quarter of seven I was sitting at the bar in the Barefoot staring out the big plate glass window at the low tide surf. I nursed my Martini and indulged in a daydream of wading in it holding Clay's hand. A big hand falling firmly on my shoulder brought me back to reality. I turned and gazed into Clay's grin. "Hey, Buddy, it's good to see ya," he said. I smiled at him. Despite the evidence of the photos and Ralph's threat, I still couldn't accept that he was gay.

We were led upstairs to a private booth with an ocean view. After ordering another Martini for me and a beer for Clay, we sat and stared at each other. "So what do you have to discuss with me, Karl?" Clay finally asked. I could see the anxiety in his eyes. I hated that he was still so vulnerable to me after all these years.

I pulled out a plain white envelope and held it as I explained. "When my grandfather died, he left me a bomb in the form of a large manila envelope full of documents and photos. His lawyer turned it over to me just last Saturday. If you wish to see the documents which concern you, too, I'll show them to you at another time. They all have a strong bearing on you as well as me."

"What kind of documents?" He asked, staring at the stark white envelope in my hand.

"Birth certificates, yours and mine; Marriage licenses and divorce papers, your parents and mine."

"Divorce? No one in your family or mine has been divorced."

"What do you really know of your father, Clay?"

"You know as well as I that he was killed in an auto accident before I was born."

"What would you say if I told you that's a lie and he's been right there all your life, helping to raise you and guide you?"

Clay's laugh was more a bark of ridicule. "I'd say bullshit."

I sighed. "Well, he was, Clay, he didn't live in your house and he was no longer married to your mother, but he was there for you every day." Clay looked at me like I'd utterly lost my mind. "Think about it - the man that adored you and had no use for me."

I watched him as he reviewed his childhood. He drew circles on the table in the condensation from his drink as he thought. Eventually, he picked up his glass, downed the whole beer, then sat it down with a clunk and looked at me. "I guess in the long run you ended up being the lucky one," he said. "When I couldn't play football anymore, Harold ended up despising me and admiring you."

"You're wrong, Clay, his eventual admiration of my adult accomplishments meant absolutely nothing to me. You, in turn, had a childhood and youth with a man that loved you. I am sorry that the ass turned on you. I never understood why. At least you were an adult by then, Clay."

Clay drew some more circles in the moisture on the table top. He glanced up at me without raising his head. "His reaction was no worse than yours. I expected it from him, but your rejection really hurt."

So he really thought I was straight. And despite what I'd said to him, he thought that I'd severed our friendship because I couldn't accept his being gay. I still had difficulty believing that he was. He was going to have to right out tell me. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

He raised his head and stared at me rather incredulously. "I'm gay, Karl. I'm a faggot. Queer. That was why you cast me out of your life, wasn't it?" We were talking barely above a whisper, but he still glanced around the sparsely filled room to see if anyone had heard. I didn't notice anyone even glance our way.

"I never suspected that until earlier today, Clay." I sadly smiled at him, then stared up at the ceiling. "God, how different things could have been if I had known."

Clay looked at me - unbelieving. "So… if you didn't know… then why? Why did you cut me out of your life?"

I reached across the table and grasped his hand. "Clay, I was in love with you. I was sure that if you found out you'd despise me. Besides, you didn't need a queer friend hampering your career. That's why I cut myself out of your life."

He pulled his hand away and simply stared at me. I could see the years of hurt boiling just below the surface. I couldn't deal with it… so I ignored it. I sighed, picked up the envelope, which we'd both forgotten and said, "Before I give you this, I've got a question. Have you ever been on a website called Muscular Men?"

Instant anger darkened Clay's features. "Why are you asking?" He growled.

"Last Wednesday after meeting Ralph, I went home and Googled him. His name was familiar, but I couldn't place from where. The Google site listed the Muscular Men site… which I went to. Again, have you seen that site?"

"Yes."

I handed him the envelope containing the 4x6 photos. "These photos were included in the stuff I received from my grandfather."

I watched him open the envelope. He blanched as he examined them. "These aren't supposed to exist," he whispered.

"I want you to know that I'm investigating how one of them got onto that site," I told him. "My lawyers are contacting the Webmaster to see what he knows. I suspect that my grandfather had something to do with it - most likely indirectly."

"How did he acquire these and why did he give them to you?" He asked as he slipped them back into the envelope and laid it in the middle of the table between us - not quite passing them back to me.

It was my turn to be embarrassed, but I looked him in his eyes and said, "I don't know. Included in the documents were candid photos of both you and me all through our school years."

"Candid photos… taken without our knowledge? Why? What was the purpose? Why did he give them to you?"

"I don't have an answer, Clay. One thing that's very apparent in them is that neither of us looked very happy in any of the photos taken after our freshman year in high school."

"That was the year you ended our friendship."

I could do nothing but bow my head to the bitter truth.

"That was so many years ago. I don't remember ever being really happy after that," he muttered; and I raised my head to look at him. He stared at me for several seconds lost in his memories. The anger was back in his eyes as he changed the subject. "So… what do you intend to do with these?"

I looked at him, not comprehending. "What do you mean? I just gave them to you. They're yours to do with as you will."

The anger faded from his face. "You said a minute ago that you were in love with me back then." He searched my face for several moments before asking, "Do you still love me, Karl?"

Tears suddenly blinded me. Why would he ask? He has Ralph. "What does it matter now?"

"Do you?" He insisted.

All the years of frustrated longing - all the years of thinking Clay was hetero - all the years of wanting his love - it all came crashing in on me at that moment. What gave him the right to ask me that question?