Patrick

I was in a foul mood when I got back on 80 heading back home. I was pissed at Will's response, but what's one to expect from a Berkeley graduate. It's just a nest of bleeding heart liberals. Hell, I'm surprised he turned out straight.

It's not a big problem traversing through the MacArthur Maze if you're paying attention, which I wasn't. I found myself on that miserable potholed 880. I could have cut over on 24, but thought, 'To hell with it. As miserable a shit as I am, I deserve to be on this damned miserable freeway with all these big fuckin' trucks.' Since it's mostly a two lane road, the truckers are constantly in the center lane passing another truck. I was dodging back and forth between them, trying to get ahead of the next truck in front of me and ended up missing the turn off for the San Mateo Bridge. That just made my mood fouler.

On a whim, I crossed the bay at the Dumbarton Bridge. There was no traffic that early in the morning. I usually get a thrill racing across the narrow bridge just a few feet above the water. I didn't this time. The morning traffic on 101 was starting to build heading up to the city. I was glad I was heading south.

Even though I was on the twelfth floor with a fantastic view of downtown, there was no joy in getting back to my ultra modern condo - the symbol of my success as a lawyer. The chrome and leather furniture looked uninviting - cold. The large abstract paintings on the walls were just big splashes of color - something else to aggravate my rotten mood. Compared to the warm inviting atmosphere in Carla's home, this place was sterile and uninviting. What the hell was I thinking when I let that damned silly decorator have his way. I missed Carla - her warm loving arms, her tender lips, and most of all her wry sense of humor.

I flopped down on the Corbusier lounger, one of my favorite places to relax. It peeved me that there was no place to rest my arms. I folded them across my chest and brooded.

Even though I was a success in my chosen occupation, I had apparently failed as a decent human being. I could hear everyone saying, "Yeah, yeah, mea culpa. You're just a fucked up, shit for brains ass hole. Even your one straight brother doesn't like you." If Will was down on my case, it was easy to imagine what my other three brothers and Dad thought of me. Maybe they'd like me to go jump off a tall building. Ha! Like I would.

Soon I'd have to get showered and dressed for work. But for now I stared at the ceiling, disconnected. I escaped into thoughts of Carla, warm, caring, master of her own destiny, beautiful. She's everything I want in a woman. God, how I love her. I relived last Saturday night. When I came out of the bathroom, she was lying nude across the bed. Her luxurious auburn hair spread out seductively over the pillow as she licked her lips and curled a finger at me.

The image changed to the boy lying naked on his bed, so beautiful in his innocent sleep. The curve of his boy butt so round and firm, I wanted to reach out and caress it - run my lips over it. What the hell? Why am I daydreaming about that over grown faggot? He's the one that messed up everything. I just can't believe he had me wanting to plow his butt. If he hadn't been laying there naked sticking his butt up at me …

My chiming phone interrupted my recriminations. I looked to see who the caller was. I did not feel like listening to Dad or my brothers. It was Will's home number. I opened my phone and said, "This is Patrick."

"Paddy, Reece. I talked to Dr. Cerebra. He had a cancellation. Could you see him this afternoon at three?"

"Damned straight, I can," I answered without even considering any appointments I had with clients. Then as I did think about it, there were none that that couldn't be rescheduled. "Yes, I can make it. Thanks, Reece. I don't know why you're being kind when I damned well don't deserve it."

"I had a discussion with Carla the night before my wedding. She loves you. I don't want to see her get hurt anymore than she already has been. You're a Bailey, Patrick, so don't fuck this up." Yes, with her on my side, my battle was partly won.

"I won't Reece. Thank you for helping me."

"I just hope this gets you back on track for Carla's sake."

"Me, too," I agreed as she disconnected. What did she mean I'm a Bailey? What the hell does that have to do with anything? Sure, my brothers are a great bunch of guys. But I don't have much in common with them, except for having the same parents. They were just a bunch of bratty little kids when I lived at home.

I glanced at my watch. I'd been lying here nearly three hours. I got up and called my secretary. "Geena, I won't be in today. I'm not feeling very well, and I've made an appointment to see a doctor this afternoon." It wasn't completely a lie, but I damned sure wasn't going to tell her the doctor was a shrink either.

"I'll reschedule all your appointments, Sir. I hope you're feeling better by tomorrow."

I had no idea how I'd feel by tomorrow. I got comfortable on the chaise and started planning how to win over the rest of the family. The psychiatrist thing was going to cost a bit, but it was definitely a good move.

Luke

I heard the house phone ring and groggily turned over to look at my alarm clock. It was twenty after eight. The phone only rang twice. That was strange. 'One of my dads must still be home.' I slid out of bed, slipped on some board shorts and still half asleep stumbled down to the kitchen. Sure enough, Farr was sitting at the kitchen table looking happy - talking on the phone. Our eyes connected as I opened the fridge to get the OJ.

"Luke, someone wants to say good morning to you," he said, as his smile broadened.

I took the time to grab a glass as I headed to the table with the OJ. "Who's it?" I mumbled, still groggy.

"Answer it and see," he said, handing me the phone with a big grin. I grimaced at him, set the OJ container down and took the phone.
"'Lo," I muttered.

"Hi, Babe."

I dropped the glass when I heard Matt's voice. Tears welled in my eyes as I was overcome with relief and joy - and at the same time anger. I couldn't talk. I looked down at the shattered glass around my bare feet. There were a couple of bleeding little cuts on my left foot. Fascinated, I watched my bright red blood ooze and trickle toward the floor.

Farr already had the broom and dust pan sweeping up the shards. I watched him wordlessly as Matt said, "Luke? Luke, are you still there?"

I glanced at the phone. His words weren't registering. "I broke a glass," I told him. I glanced at Farr. He pointed at the stool next to me and said, "Sit."

I sat with the phone still pressed against my ear.

"Luke, answer me." It was Matt.

"I'm here," I managed to say.

"Are you alright?"

I watched Farr walk across the kitchen to dispose of the broken glass. "Where are you?" I asked.

"I'm at Pete and Dan's."

"Oh."

"I love you, Babe. I'll see you this afternoon."

Tears welled in my eyes again, this time spilling down my cheeks.

"'kay." I laid the phone on the table. I could still hear Matt asking if I was alright. I slid off the stool and stepped on a small, missed sliver of glass. The pain of its penetration broke my thrall. I hiked my butt back on the stool and shook my head to clear it. I picked the phone back up - Matt was still yelling my name. "I'm really pissed at you," I said. "You could have trusted me enough to tell me you were leaving. I spent the whole night worrying about you - not knowing where you were - if you were safe. I didn't know whether you were even alive or not."

"I'm sorry, Luke. I thought I was doing what was best."

"Well… you better get your butt back here. You've got a lot of making up to do," I said, trying to sound indignant. Matt was safe and would soon be back. I noticed Farr grinning at me. My world was spinning right again.

"I love you, Luke Babe."

"I love you, too, Matt, but I'm still pissed at you."

Matt chuckled. "That only makes me love you more."

"Hmph," I grunted.

He chuckled some more, then said that Dan wanted to talk to Farr. I handed Farr the phone and kissed him on the cheek.

Farr

Relief washed over me when I heard Pete say that Matt was with them. I could feel the anger building as I thought about Matt's night alone in that huge house. I kept my cool, but I was going to have Patrick's gonads before nightfall.

Having cleaned and band-aided Luke's foot after I talked to Dan, I called Dad and talked to him. I was in a rage. It sounded to me like everyone was pussyfooting around, afraid to set Patrick off. I called Will's cell phone intending to tell him Matt was safe, but ended up leaving him a message to call me A.S.A.P. It was fifteen minutes to eleven. I figured he'd call just after the hour. While waiting, I called John and told him what was going on. He did his best to calm me and urged me not to do anything rash. I promised him I'd stay cool, calm and collected.

Will returned my call about ten minutes later. He and Reece were greatly relieved to hear that Matt was with Pete and Dan. He told me that Patrick had stopped by to talk to him, and that Reece had made him an appointment with Dr. Markus Cerebra at three.

I coldly calculated that Patrick should be home by five. At a quarter to five I was sitting on my bike in front of the entry to Patrick's high rise condominium downtown San Jose. My dad and brothers could play nice all they wanted, but I was in my 'broody mother hen' mode, and Patrick had threatened and even struck one of my chicks. Damn right I consider Matt my son. He nearly lives with us. And after things settle a bit, he just might be living with us full time, if I have my way.

Patrick

There is no easy way to get from downtown San Jose to Berkeley; it seems that no matter the time of day, you're going to run into a traffic jam somewhere along the way. My preferred way is up 101 to the San Mateo Bridge, by passing 880 on the service road that curves up and connects to 580. From there it's usually just minutes to 80 and off into Berkley. I left half an hour early so I'd have plenty of time, and ended up sitting in the doctor's waiting room for half an hour.

As I approached my condo building my baby brother astride his diminutive motorcycle parked in the passenger loading zone couldn't be missed. I pulled into the driveway that led into the underground parking and stopped. He looked pissed with his arms folded across his chest. I ignored it and called out, "Meet me in the lobby."

Neither of us spoke when I entered the lobby. I punched the elevator call button and stood, waiting. When the doors opened, I motioned for him to enter, and as we ascended I could feel his angry stare. I continued to ignore his attitude. The short walk from the elevator to my door was as silent as the ride up had been. I motioned for him to sit and asked if he'd like something to drink, adding that I was going to have a beer. He nodded, but didn't sit.

I returned with two long neck Dos XXs and as I handed him one, I glanced at him and asked, "Dad sent you?"

"He doesn't know I'm here." His voice was flat emotionless - dry like the rattle of a Diamondback. It put me on edge. I nodded and sat on the front edge of a chrome and leather club chair.

"So, what did the illustrious doctor have to say about your actions?" he asked.

I sighed. "Frank, other than asking how I felt after finally admitting to him what a stupid fucked up ass hole I am, he didn't have anything much to say except that he'd see me again day after tomorrow." I stared out the window avoiding his angry eyes and wondered why I didn't have control of the situation.

I'd not admitted to myself until now that I was fearful of my little brother's ability to take down a big man. Once while I was in college and home for a holiday, I'd watched him in practice combat in his kung fu/karate classes (or whatever they're called). He moved like a lightning bolt and was fearless in his attack. I knew I had no defense if he were to attack me.

Frank eventually sat down and guzzled a quarter of his beer, then said, "Everyone I know that knows Matt, loves and admires him. Do you think you can tell me why you've reacted to Matt the way you have?"

I glanced at him and then back out at the downtown buildings. Maybe a little truth would sway him, after all I'd admitted it to the doctor.

"I think it was the third night I stayed with Carla." I paused, plotting my story before continuing. "It seems I always have to get up to take a piss around two in the morning. Rather than use her bathroom, I went down the hall to use the main one so I wouldn't wake her. The boy's door was ajar. He'd apparently gone to sleep reading and left his lamp on. I pushed the door open with the intent of turning off his lamp and covering him. He laid there apparently asleep … naked, his shoulders flat on the bed … his hips twisted with the top leg stretched toward the wall." I looked up at Frank - looked him in the eyes. "You've seen him in the pool. You know how beautiful he is. Hell, I'm straight and he was tempting me.

"He looked so innocent in his sleep … so innocent. Maybe that's what seduced me … his innocence. I wanted kiss every inch of his, oh, so smooth skin. He has really long eyelashes. And his lips - they looked almost edible.

"I don't know what brought me out of my thrall, but I suddenly realized the state I was in and fled the room … crawled back into Carla's bed, wrapped my arms around her and tried to forget what the boy had done to me."

I glanced at Frank, wondering if I'd gone too far - told him too much about how I'd felt. His belligerent expression hadn't changed. I drank the last of the warm beer in my bottle, got up and brought back two more bottles. I set one down in front of him and walked over to the wall of glass and stared out, at a loss of how to draw him in.

The silence went on to the point that I startled when he spoke, his voice filled with contempt. "The fifteen year old boy … in his innocent sleep … was trying to seduce his mother's lover. Is that what you're insinuating, Patrick?"

I thought about what I'd said and realized that I had insinuated just that. "How did I know whether he was sleeping or just pretending while he lay there so seductively?"

"Turned you on, did it? So you're not as straight as you pretend."

I turned and glared at him. "Fuck off, Frank, I'm not a faggot."

"Ahhhh, the true colors are coming out. Interesting…" he said, taunting me.

Shit this was not going the way I wanted. Backtrack quick. I closed my eyes and apologized. "I didn't mean that, Frank. You know that it's okay with me that you're gay."

Frank wasn't taken in. "But having a young good looking kid like Matt living under the same roof is just too tempting for you. Is that what you're saying, Patrick? You have to make it his fault that you're turned on by him."

"He has no business trying to seduce me. He's underage for Christ's sake." I protested, not realizing at the moment that I was admitting that his summation of the situation was right on target.

"And if he'd been an adult? What? Would you have done something then?" I felt like a bull in the arena - the crowd jeering as the Picador stuck another spike into me. "Patrick, you said yourself that he was asleep. It was you that walked into his room. It was you that was staring at his naked butt as he slept. Come on, Man, you're an adult. Why didn't you just cover him up, turn out his light and leave?"

He was right in my face, the stunted little ass. God, I wanted to deck him. I noticed him glancing at my clinched fists. He smirked knowingly at me and said in a low soft voice, "Go ahead, Patrick. Hit me. I'm an adult. Go ahead. But if you do try, I promise you… you will leave this room on a stretcher."

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. He's half my size, but I knew I'd have no defense against an assault from him. I unclenched my hands, spread and stretched my fingers. Frank turned his back on me. I should have taken that as an insult, but I only felt relief.

"Alright," he growled and walked across the room before turning to face me. "You've so much as admitted it was guilt over your lusting for Matt that has made you act like an ass. If you can say you're sorry and mean it, then we can possibly find a solution to this problem."

"Why would you try to help me?" I asked.

He turned and walked back to face me. "Three reasons." He stuck three fingers in my face. "First," he said holding up his forefinger. "Matt is like a son to me. I want assurance that he is safe from your aggression." He then held up two fingers. "Second, I don't understand why… but Carla loves you. I want to see her happy. And, third," he paused, "even though you're a pompous ass and I don't particularly like you, you are my brother. Brothers help each other." He paused and studied me. It was all I could do not to look away. "Do you think that you can humble yourself enough to apologize to Matt and promise him you'll treat him right from now on … and mean it?"

God it galled me to say it, but I forced it out. "Look, Farr---"

He interrupted me. "To you… I am Frank. Only those I love and respect get to call me Farr. So far you fail at both."

I closed my eyes, swallowed and began again. "Frank, I admit that I felt no guilt for what I did to the boy---"

"The boy has a name… his name is Matt."

"Okay, Matt. I felt no guilt for what I did to Matt until Carla confronted me. I've since come to regret my actions."

"Only because Carla kicked you out."

I nodded. "Well, it started out that way, but---"

"Patrick, Matt is a wonderful young man. He's kind, loving accepting and forgiving. If you'd take the time and put out an effort to get to know him, you'd love him as much as the rest of the family does. And if you're sincere, I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"I can be sincere." I muttered thinking about how to approach the kid… Matt.

"Goddammit. I mean truly sincere - not lawyer sincere."

I nodded, fearful of opening my mouth again.