From Chapter 10:
MJ remained mute, but Jimmer jumped up from his seat and said, "This is why," and pulled down his shorts and stood naked in front of everyone.
The summer storm had captured everyone's attention, leaving Jimmer standing naked as the lighting flashed, reflecting off the stainless steel, and claps of thunder shook the house. Otherwise all was silent until Jim, who was standing closest to Jimmer, spoke. He had been startled for a moment by how tall the boy now stood, almost as if he hadn't seen him in a year--all of sudden he was surely over five feet tall-- and definitely taller than Matt had been at his age, and keeping up with MJ in height. Then he remembered that Denise's father was tall; he was like his grandfather in many ways. Then he refocused on the boy and said, "He's upset because you have a cock?" causing the adults to chuckle and receiving odd looks from Brett and Ollie who had just come in with the babies.
"Daaaaad!" Jimmer whined, "He's mad because I got pubes before he did."
MJ glowered at him from the table.
Jim leaned down for a closer look. He saw the two small dark hairs and decided to lighten the moment. This was a big event for him as well as for his adopted son; his little boys were beginning their journey into manhood. This, of course, made him only too well aware that the runaway train named 'teenager' was heading right for him. As clichéd as it sounded, it seemed like only yesterday when he had found his own first hair. Now he hoped he could help guide his boys to adulthood in a way that would save them from the same mistakes he had made in his youth--or, more practically, he reflected, at least he would try to.
Pulling himself back to the now, he called out, "Hey, Uncle Buck, do we have a magnifying glass? I need some help finding these alleged pubes." This had the effect of amusing everyone and now even MJ was giggling. Before Jimmer could get too upset, Jim grabbed him and began kissing his forehead and cheeks. "Don't be mad, buddy, I'm just having fun.
"You know," he said, as he led the boy over to the table, "you're just like your Dad, he got pubes before me too," he said before sitting down next to MJ who seemed to be a little bit happier. "But I was the first one to shoot spunk," he added, getting an even bigger smile from MJ, "so Jimmer, you have won the battle, but haven't won the war, yet."
"Yeah, Spunky, after all these years you still love telling that story," Matt said, pretending to be annoyed.
"Spunky?" both boys cried in unison, with their faces screwed-up.
Jim frowned, but Matt laughed and went on with the story. "It wasn't too long after he'd blasted off his first load that I had my first, and then we were doing it all the time."
"I'll finish the story, Captain, just to make sure it's told properly," Jim said, raising an eyebrow before continuing. "When I was about thirteen we went to visit my grandparents and we were to be there for four days. All the cousins slept on mattresses in the living room and there was only one bathroom, meaning absolutely no privacy. Anyway, when I got home and finally was alone in my bedroom I was able to relieve the pressure," he paused as Al passed plates of pancakes around the table interrupting the saga. As he poured syrup on his pancakes Jim asked, "Where was I?"
"Relieving pressure," Matt said, causing the boys to giggle.
"Right. When blast off came, I was so backed up that some of it flew all the way up and landed on my face," he said still proud of his achievement, getting a chorus of 'woes' from the impressed boys as another of crack thunder shook the sturdy house.
"So I cleaned up and headed over to Matty's house. When I got home my mother was fit-to-be-tied. She started screaming at me about being a sinner and told me to go to my room until grandpa got home." Now all the guys were laughing, already having some idea of where the story was headed.
Of course they were right, and Jim continued to tell the boys how his mother was in his room putting away clothes when she had spotted to globs of spunk, one on the headboard and one on the wall.
"What did grandpa say?" MJ asked.
"Well, he opened the door and said loudly, 'Young man!' before he slammed it closed. I was scared to death until he smiled, walked over to my bed and gave me a hi-5. Then he told me not to be upset as beating off was something all boys did and that in the future I should use a sock when I was close to catch the evidence and then hide it in the hamper," Jim finished.
"You boys are lucky," Barry said between mouthfuls of pancakes, "my father would never have been cool enough to tell a story like this, he didn't even tell me about the birds and the bees." Brett and Ollie voiced their agreement.
"So how did you get the name Spunky?" Jimmer asked.
"From your Uncle Brandon. Somehow he found out what happened," Jim said giving Matt an accusatory look, "and from then on he called me Spunky."
The boys had finished eating and asked permission to leave the table, but before giving it Matt admonished, "Before you go guys, remember what I told you about failing to talk things out and letting arguments come between you," both boys nodded their heads. "Okay, now go and have fun."
After the boys left the room Matt said, "You seemed to leave out a bit of the story," as he got up for a rare second helping.
"Yeah, well can't tell them everything," Jim said and continued to the others, "the real reason was that I had taught Brandy how to jerk-off, mainly because he was always in the room and I figured that if he was doing it too, then he couldn't rat me out. But he claimed it was because I was doing it all the time and he called me that name in front of my brothers. I paid him back by always using one of his socks to jerk-off with.
The guys continued with breakfast as the storm raged on outside. They all traded their own early masturbation stories until Barry said, "All right boys, this conversation has made me crack a fat, who's up for a circle pull?"
Jim made his way to the barn to check on the boys' Friday morning. It was already beginning to feel warm for 0700 and the humidity was unusually high for the middle of June. He stopped to look across the fields towards his father's house where a good-sized chicken house was under construction with a fenced yard for the birds to range. Tommy wanted to start raising chickens; his idea was they could sell eggs and stockpile the accumulated waste for fertilizer. They had contracted with the farmer who leased their land to grow Teff, a type of high-grade hay, on both their farms and exclusively for DCF.
When he reached the stables he was surprised to find that Tommy was nowhere around and, glancing at the corral, he only saw the boys' horses grazing contentedly. Finding MJ and Jimmer cleaning stalls, he asked about Tommy, but they claimed not to have seen him. Pulling out his cellphone, he called Tommy's number and was confused when a strange man answered. Jim said, "Who is this and where is Tommy?"
The gruff voice at the other end asked, "Who wants to know?" pissing Jim off.
"His boss, Chief Warrant Officer James Flannery." Then turning on his command voice said, "Now hear this ass-wipe, you've got one minute to put Tommy on the phone, if you don't when I find you it won't be pretty." Jim was angry that whoever was on the phone thought it fine to be rude, but moreover, he was scared that something bad had happened to Tommy. Since the boy-- now more properly a man-- had joined the family, he and Jim had become quite close. Tommy was accomplishing everything he'd set out to do: he was studying Veterinary Medicine and was receiving excellent grades, while somehow managing to keep up with work on the farm.
"Whoa Gunner, calm down," the voice said, "This is Sergeant Jeff Pyle, Newark Police. Tommy is at Christiana Hospital Emergency. He was found in an alley this morning, badly beaten." The boys were watching their dad, drawn by the angry way he spoke into the phone, and then they saw the color drain from his face.
Jim ended his call. "Boys, I have to go; Tommy has been in an accident. I'll send Dad out to help you guys finish up the horses." Sensing the urgency, the boys just nodded as Jim turned back to the house. On his way he called Billy and asked him to get dressed quickly and double-time it to the main house.
Forty minutes later, after weaving in and out of rush hour traffic, he found the hospital emergency room with Barry and Billy. Stopping the first employee they found, Billy asked for Tommy, and they were given directions to his room.
They found Sergeant Pyle, who Jim immediately pegged as ex-military, probably a Marine by the look of him, outside Tommy's room and talking to another officer. After introductions were affected, he told them everything he knew. Apparently Tommy had been discovered next to a dumpster at five a.m. by the trash haulers. Apparently he had been there since about 2:00. His jaw was broken in two places, he had three broken ribs, a broken right arm, multiple contusions, a few missing teeth, and to top it off, serious concussion.
"Did he recognize his attacker?" Jim asked.
"No, he claims that he left the bar around 1:45 and was hit from behind, then dragged into the alley and beaten," Pyle told them. "We've had a few incidents around there over the past few months-- thugs coming in from other areas to roll college students. We'll have to wait until tonight to speak to the staff at the pub and anyone who may have been there the night before."
When they were finally allowed to see Tommy, they were shocked. He looked like a stand-in for Herman Munster. Both eyes were black and swollen and they could see that his jaw had already been wired. It was difficult for him to talk, but he told the guys the same thing that he'd told the police.
The visit proceeded as best it could under the circumstances and just before the boys were going to leave, a very concerned Danny appeared in the doorway--apparently Billy had called him. He began by apologizing to Tommy for leaving him at the pub; he had picked up a girl and left around 2350. It was obvious to them that Billy had become firm friends with the young Texan since Brett was spending most of his time with Oliver.
Driving home, Barry could not shake the feeling that something was off with the whole story, and so, like the many detectives in the pulp fiction novels that filled his shelves, he began to replay each moment since they arrived at the hospital in his mind's eye. Both Tom and Locke repeatedly told him to trust his instincts; and now they were blaring like a klaxon in head, trying to make him see the obvious. It was like reading a file taken from a drawer that didn't make sense, only to discover a missing page stuck in the back of the cabinet. He just needed the missing page.
He was still working it through his head when Jim asked from the front seat, "Hey Bazz, do you have Ronnie's number in your cellphone? We're going to need a little help with the horses for at least eight weeks."
And that's when it crystalized in his mind; he had found the missing piece of paper. If Tommy had been mugged, why was nothing stolen? His phone was there, along with his wallet, watch, and ring--all neat and tidy in a plastic bag on the table next to his bed.
"Bazza!" Jim called again.
"Yeah, sorry mate, I was thinking about this thing with Tommy. I have it, I'll call her now."
Two weeks had passed since Tommy's attack. Danny, who had been by Tommy's side almost constantly since the attack, he was there whenever he had time off from his job to keep his friend company and help in any way he could. He even had posters made asking anyone who may have seen something to call the tip-line, even talking his father into to matching Jim's reward money of five grand.
The police seemed to lose all interest in the case. Even after Barry raised this issue of Tommy not being robbed, the Sergeant merely thanked him in a patronizing manner, signaling he hoped he would just go away. He had reported that their canvassing of the area had turned up no leads and no one at the pub remembered seeing the attack or anyone being dragged into the alley. In the end, they put it down to a random act and marked the file 'open/unsolved'.
Jim also was not happy so he hired the Tom Jones Agency to take over the investigation. Not only would they have an experienced investigator in Tom, but also it would give Barry a chance to work in Delaware where he held his license.
When Barry called Tom to tell him about the job, his boss offered to come down to the farm to meet with him, saying that he would like to talk to Tommy in person.
Barry put his phone in his pocket. He enjoyed working with Tom Jones, he had decided, and with Locke, his partner. The two men were excellent investigators, but complete opposites in personality. Tom had a peculiar sense of humor and joked his way through many situations, whereas Locke could go for hours without speaking--especially on a stakeout. There were times when all one would get out of him was a grunt or a slight curl of his lip which, according to Tom, was equal to hysterics.
Barry wasn't sure he understood the exact nature of the relationship between the two men either. He knew the two had owned the agency since 1990 and that Locke spent most of his time running his other business, a gym and a shooting range, but not much else.
Barry had picked up that they were both only children and that their parents were dead. Tom did say that he had had a long-term relationship with a woman who was doctor back in '90's, but she could never come to grips with his profession, so after almost ten years she called it quits. Just knowing Locke for only a short time, Barry could understand why he was alone--he wanted to be.
He did know that both men served in Vietnam during the last eighteen months of the war and both had joined at the age of seventeen. Tom only mentioned that he was an Army Ranger and that Locke had been in the Marine Corps Force Reconnaissance, but gave no further information. Barry recalled from his own military experience that they were both considered elite forces and that at the time operated mainly behind enemy lines. Not bad training for their present business, concluded Barry.
What made him think there may be more to it was how easily they both accepted Barry's life-style. But that in itself was not proof; most people thought he, Jim, and Matt were straight. Adding to his speculation was how much time and effort Tom (and Locke for that matter) was pouring into his training--four nights a week over the last three months; it was if they had adopted him as a surrogate son. They had secured (from an old friend) copies of training videos used by a Federal Agency in DC in teaching the art of interrogation; specifically reading faces--looking for telltale signs of lying. They weren't the most current videos, but the lessons in them, augmented by Locke's own critique and furthered with examples Tom dredged up from cases he recalled, were valuable and Barry absorbed them and took precise notes that he compiled into exercise books for homework,
Then there were the lessons on how to tail a mark and how to detect someone tailing you. This was done on the streets of Philadelphia, with Barry attempting successfully to tail Tom and other times trying to pick up Locke tailing him. It was all great fun to Barry, and he was learning quickly in the practical environment of the city streets.
Barry had spent hours the previous night on a plan of action to present to Tom Jones when he came the next day and he hoped his mentor would approve of this first trial. And so that morning found Barry seated in the office with coffee and Tom's favorite-- lox and bagels-- outlining his plan as his boss smeared cream cheese on his bagel and covered it with the smoked fish. For a moment Barry considered how amazing the man looked considering his eating habits and love of beer-- Tom was at least sixty-two but looked ten years younger.
On free days when they had no lessons, Tom was helping Barry brush up on his Tae-Kwan-Do, something he had neglected since he was injured. They were also doing yoga as strength training as well as Tai-chi. So, when he saw Tom in the showers at the gym, he was in awe of the man's toned body, which had not a wrinkle or sag anywhere--and a cock as thick as Barry had ever seen. He idly thought it would easily rival (maybe even beat) Jim for its length when hard.
Completing his presentation, Barry waited as Tom stuffed the last piece of bagel into his mouth and washed it down with coffee. "I don't know where you found Al, but he makes the best damn coffee I've had in years," he said wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Your plan sounds good, but I would still like to talk to the boy myself. Let's see if he remembers anything else," he said standing and signaling that it was time to move on.
That evening, at 2350, Barry was standing in front of the pub Tommy had visited on the night of the attack. He surveyed the street, looking for businesses that were still open. There was only one, a Wawa on that took up the entire corner and a quarter of the block. Most of the restaurants were already closed or were emptying. The mix of bookstores, clothing boutiques and a large old-fashioned hardware store were all locked up tight. Even so, there were all manner of people on the streets, from preppy college students, to older couples strolling after a meal at one of the restaurants, to teenagers out on their own with hoodies and skateboards. He decided to try his luck in the pub.
He spoke to the bartender and every waitress he could flag down for a beer, giving him the opportunity to ask questions until the beers caught up to him and he headed for the men's room. He was just wetting down the porcelain when the door opened. Then a very cute young man was standing at the next urinal. Barry looked over and studied the kid's impossibly young face--he was a stunner with black hair and with equally black eyes and perfectly smooth creamy skin, his cheeks still blushed with youth. The apron he was holding up to piss pegged him as a busboy. He was looking right at Barry as if he was committing his face to memory, 'A kindred spirit, I would guess', he thought.
Deciding to play off his oft-mentioned sexy Aussie accent, he smiled at the boy with his bright green eyes shining and said, "How's it going, mate?" turning it on full force, as if he was standing in front of a pisser at Young & Jackson's in Melbourne.
It worked and the boy almost sighed and then blushed and stammered, "Great," before turning his eyes back to his own space, but not before taking one a last peak at Barry's equipment.
They finished pissing and were shaking off when, from the corner of his eye, Barry caught the boy stealing another glance so he held his cock out, pulling back his skin to show his large wet, red cockhead for a moment before packing it away. Turning, he gave the kid another crooked grin and asked, "I reckon you work here." The starry-eyed boy just nodded.
"Do you get a break?" Barry asked and the boy answered that he was on one now and, with a hopeful look on his face, he told Barry to follow him out back so he could have his smoke. The staff smoking area behind the pub was lit by a single bulb next to the door and smelled of garbage, piss and, of course, cigarettes.
The lustful look in the busboy's eyes changed to disappointment when Barry showed his license and began to question him about the night Tommy was attacked. The boy was nervous and claimed not to know anything, but with his new training, Barry easily knew he was lying. Usually at this point Tom would pull out cash to grease the wit's memory, but Barry had a better idea to deal with this horny college boy.
"Tell you what, mate, I think you're trying to piss in my pocket. So here's a one-time offer, you tell me what I know you saw and I'll invite you down to my place to meet a few very hot Uni-boys for a swim in the nuddy." The kid's eyes lit up and the story spilled from his lips, giving Barry, as they say in the world of the PI, his first big break.
The following morning he was back in Newark, this time meeting with the manager of the Wawa across the street from the pub. He explained his mission and asked if they kept the CCTV footage. Luck was on his side once again, for the manager was defiantly gay and more than happy to find the tape of the night in question and to spend the next hour sitting almost on top of him reviewing the tape and finding every excuse to make Barry speak.
Barry's next stop was the bank that owned the ATM on the corner of the convenience store. The bank was not very busy that morning as he sat with the assistant manager and asked about security footage from the ATM. The guy was a bit reluctant until Barry mentioned that he and his partners were bank customers, presenting him with a card that showed his account number. As soon as the reluctant functionary typed in the number, his eyes widened and quickly asked Barry if he would mind waiting until he spoke to the branch manager himself.
Driving home some hours later, Barry's head was reeling from all that he had seen on the CCTV tapes and combined with what the busboy told him. He called Tom and was gave him a quick overview and, as it was a Friday, he invited him down to the farm for the weekend. Tom was quick to agree, "It's stinking hot in the city, and your pool will be very refreshing--not to mention Al's cooking."
By 1600 Barry had Tom sequestered in the office reviewing the tapes. Barry had mixed emotions about his finding. He had wanted to be a PI--and now he was about to solve his first big case--but the fallout could be disastrous. Nevertheless, with Tom he worked out a plan for moving forward but, as yet, he had not shared any of his findings with his client, Jim, and was conflicted by the thought. He decided it was best to present everything at once, when they had the complete picture locked down and there could be no room for error or second-guessing.
"Well kid," Tom said, using his favorite name for Barry, "it looks like you may end up taking away my title of 'world's greatest detective' --you must have seen the certificate of the wall," he joked, giving him a warm smile. "I especially liked how you worked the busboy, and don't forget those green eyes and crooked grin will work just as well on the ladies."
He noticed my eyes; he must be gay .
On the way to take Tom's bags to one of the cottages, Barry was surprised to see the pool and deck full of naked boys; apparently Jim forgot to tell everyone that there was to be a guest-- and a guest whose eyes just now were bulging at the sight of the naked Wolf. Just then, an equally naked Ryan came running towards them. "Daddy," he squealed, "are you and Mr. Tom coming in swimming too?"
An embarrassed Barry looked at his boss who smiled and answered the boy, "Sure thing, Sparky, as soon as drop off my suitcase."
He turned his red face to Tom who looked at Barry and said, "Lighten up kid, I was in the Army; being naked around a bunch of guys doesn't bother me--in fact I enjoy it."
Twenty minutes later Al was bringing a load of food to the outdoor kitchen just as Tom climbed out the pool giving him an eye-full of the truncheon swinging between the man's legs. As he passed Barry and Jim he whispered, "Madonna Mia, I'd pay to ride that horse." Barry called him a slut and Al walked away laughing.
By the time dinner was served, every member of the farm was either on the deck or in the pool, including Tommy who was propped up in a lounge chair along with his replacement who was on loan from Ronnie until he could return to work. He was twenty-two year old hunk, recently transplanted from Scotland, named Duncan, who had yet to make his sexual preferences known, but he sure had the attention of Derrick and Tim who were now 'taking a break' from their relationship--but were still extremely close friends.
After Al ordered everyone out the pool for dinner, the hungry throng obeyed with alacrity and began to dry off and put on sarongs. Matt really enjoyed them in Key West had ordered a few dozen for everyone to wear during meals, just like in Key West. They were sheer, but covered the man-parts just enough for polite dining; even MJ and Jimmer thought they were cool.
The next morning, the trio of lovers entered the mudroom after their run and where greeted by the aroma of fresh cinnamon buns, frying bacon and coffee. In the kitchen they found Tom Jones at the table, nude, and tapping away at his on his laptop and Al bustling around preparing breakfast with a stupid grin on his face. After saying good morning, they poured their coffee returned to their suite to shower. Once behind doors Jim just laughed and said, "Looks like Al got to ride the horse last night."
Barry asked Matt and Jim to sit for a minute before going downstairs. His tone was grave as it was time to give them a brief report on what he had discovered. Realizing the implications, especially what they may further discover after talking with Tommy, he was carefully trying to choose what and how much of it to share with his lovers--with Jim especially.
"It's like this guys," he started rather nervously, "I've uncovered a bit of information that the police missed." He paused, noticing that he had peaked Jim's interest, "but I'm not ready to share it yet until we talk to Tommy." Jim shifted in his seat and Barry knew that he was annoyed at being kept in the dark. He continued, "Thing is, guys, this is some potentially heavy shit, and I don't want to say anything until I'm sure I've got it right."
Breakfast was just a bit tense, except for Al and Tom who were still floating on a cloud of post coital bliss. Barry knew he was doing the right thing by holding back the information until it was corroborated and he knew once Jim heard what he had found he would go ballistic, so it was imperative that everything he thought he knew had been validated. Immediately after Tom Jones put down his empty coffee cup, Barry stood and Tom followed. They had asked Billy, since he was Tommy's closet friend, to sit in on the interview.
Once the small talk was dispensed with, Barry began to reveal what he had learned and this included showing the CCTV video. Tom was focusing solely on Tommy, reading his face for any clues or signs of confirmation of what Barry was presenting. When Barry had finished revealing what he had learned, there were tears flowing down the injured man's face and it dismayed him, but it was now sealed that Tommy had not been telling the truth. He was now sure that Tommy must have had good reasons for not telling the police that he actually knew the name of his attacker and this knowledge hurt him because it meant that the boy didn't trust him --and most of all, didn't trust Jim-- enough to reveal the truth and ensure his attacker was punished.
Billy was so furious he was shaking. Billy was so furious he was shaking, "What the fuck were you thinking cowboy, why wouldn't you tell the police who did this to you?" He asked, before going over and gently hugging and comforting long-time friend.
"I was scared Jim would be mad at me because Jude is his nephew," he sobbed.
To be continued….