“I guess so.” Cam paused. “I used to act like I didn’t like his music just because I thought I had to be cool, but honestly, I liked it. Especially his Carole King Tapestry album.” Cam confessed.
Channing smiled to himself, feeling he did leave his son some of his legacy in the music he loved. “So Far Away is such a great song.”
“You know, Chan.” Cam turned to him. “Sometimes, I feel like Dad is with me.”
Channing stopped working for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“I know there are things we don’t understand about this world. I’m not sure about spirits, but it’s weird.” Cam stopped working. “I feel him here.”
Channing was a bit surprised. He never knew his son had a spiritual side. Even though Marcia had dragged him to church every Sunday as a child, he never talked about his beliefs. Maybe Cam did feel the father-son connection between them. He knew he definitely felt it with his son.
“Maybe it’s being around all his things.” Channing did not want to discourage his son’s beliefs, but on the other hand, he didn’t want his son to focus on the connection either.
“Yeah. I suppose. I just hope Dad is happy wherever he is.” He looked to Channing as though seeking reassurance.
“I promise you, man. He’s happy. I know it.” Channing gave him a reassuring smile.
Cam smiled and nodded before going back to work. A little while later, Channing picked up the last box of family photos from the master bedroom. He met up with Cam in the hall, who had finished retrieving the few items remaining in his old bedroom.
“What are you going to do with all this stuff?” Channing asked.
“The record player and records are going in my bedroom. The sci-fi stuff probably in the storage shed. I hate to get rid of it. Dad loved his collection.” Cam eyed the dozen or so boxes stacked near the front door.
“Can I have it?” Channing asked, hoping that he would get some of his most prized possessions back without raising suspicions.
Cam turned quickly to Channing with a questioning look on his face, making Channing wish he could take back his request. Finally, Cam’s face relaxed, and he broke into a smile. “You know I think Dad would have wanted it to go to someone who would appreciate it, and I know you will. So, take it.”
“Really?” Channing’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.
“Yeah.” Cam nodded towards the boxes, then turned back to Channing. “You remind me of him for some reason.”
Channing felt chills running down his spine. “I guess it’s our shared interests.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s it.” Cam nodded.
“Can I have the Cher doll, too?” Channing couldn’t resist.
Cam laughed. “What is it with you gay guys and Cher? She’s a good singer, but not like the best.”
“Blasphemy!” Channing shouted.
Cam burst out laughing.
Chapter Nine
Channing sat with Corbin at their regular lunch table as Corbin stared at Channing from across the table, shaking his head and grinning.
“Would you quit staring at me?” Channing opened his milk container, trying his best to ignore the scrupulous eye of his best friend.
“I can’t believe you scared off Lance.” Corbin turned chuckled. “I mean, who would be scared of you?”
“Me and the potion, thank you. Besides, you’re scared of me.” Channing smirked playfully as he lifted his arms, showing off his ‘guns’ to his best friend.
Corbin leaned in to whisper: “I could take you, old man.”
“You keep telling yourself that…Junior.” Channing teased.
Channing threw a French fry at him, which Corbin playfully dodged before biting down on his overstuffed sub.
“Did you get a haircut over the weekend, man?” Corbin asked around a mouthful of food.
“Yeah.” Channing shrugged. “Kathy did it. Do you like it?”
Corbin shrugged one shoulder. “It makes you look younger, old man.”
Channing laughed.
“You piece of—"
Interrupting their friendly banter, Logan flopped down in the chair next to Channing.
Placing his food tray on the table, Logan slung his legs over the bench and shot his eyes to Channing. “Why are you sitting at the kid’s table?”
He nodded towards the jock table where fellow team members cheered on Mitch Rogan, who had just shoved a third hot dog in his mouth, winning the title of the biggest idiot on the football team.
“Screw you, Greenwood.” Corbin shot back.
“Joking, dude.” He smiled at Corbin. “You know you’re my second favorite freshman next to this guy.” He elbowed Channing.
“Uh-huh.” Corbin took another bite of his sandwich.
Logan began studying Channing. “You look different. Did you get a haircut?”
Corbin snickered, which garnered a dirty look from Channing.
“Yeah.” Channing lied. “You like it?” His eyes remained on Corbin, daring him to say something.
“Don’t know.” Logan shrugged and looked down at his food. “It makes you look younger.” He said nonchalantly.
Corbin burst out laughing, causing pieces of food flew to fly from his mouth.
Channing and Logan jerked back from the table. “Gross. Dude!” They yelled in unison as the fallout landed on the table, chairs, floor, and themselves.
“Sorry.” Corbin apologized. “It’s just I was telling him the same thing, and he didn’t believe me.”
“Dude. You got mustard all over my shirt.” An irritated Channing looked down at the splattered yellow stains on the front of his white Under Armour shirt. He grabbed his napkin, poured some water from Corbin’s water bottle on it, and began scrubbing. “Thanks a lot!”
“Sorry, man. It was an accident.” Corbin apologized again.
“Wonderful! I’ll look like a dork for the rest of the day.” Channing huffed as the stubborn stains would not budge.
Logan stood up, grabbed his burger, and looked down at Channing. “Come on. I know where’s there’s some spare shirts.”
“Cool, man.” Channing stood up and glanced at Corbin, who looked genuinely sorry.
“Sorry, man.” Corbin apologized once more.
“Paybacks are hell.” Channing gave him an evil grin.
“Aw. Come on, dude. It was an accident.” Corbin pleaded.
Channing let out a maniacal laugh as he and Logan walked away.
Logan, taking a bite of his burger, led them out of the cafeteria, and across campus to the newly remodeled science building, that still hadn’t opened for classes. Channing noted that the ultra-modern hallway with murals of famous scientists aligning the walls smelled of fresh paint.
“Where are we going?” He had to walk fast to keep up with Logan’s long legs as they headed towards the stairs at the end of the long hallway.
“We’re almost there.” Logan turned and smiled.
Descending two flights of stairs, they entered the musty basement of the building, which looked as if it had not been touched in years. Chills ran up Channing’s spine as his mind went immediately to one of the first horror film he ever saw as a kid—The Amityville Horror. The thought of a demon dwelling in the basement of the old school building danced through his mind. Logan flipped the light switch, and the florescent lights blinked on. One of the long bulbs flickered on and off, adding to the spookiness of the underground room. Logan made a beeline to the creepy red door at the far end of the room, reminding Channing of the red room in the Amityville house. Trying not to let his fear show, Channing followed closely behind Logan, careful to avoid tripping over the various disused books and obsolete overhead projectors that laid scattered along the floor.
Grabbing the knob, Logan pushed the door open and flipped on the light. A single hundred-watt light bulb flashed on, lighting up the entire room.
“Here we are.” He turned and smiled.
Channing’s eyes scanned the cavern
ous room. In the middle of the floor stood a foosball table that looked as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time. A very well used dartboard hung on the wall above the old couch that rested against the opposite wall.
“Woah! What the heck?” Channing gasped, taking it all in. “What’s all this doing down here?”
“Don’t know. Cam and I found this last year when Coach Featherston sent us down here to get some tackling dummies from over there in the corner.” He pointed at the now empty space.
Logan stepped toward a tower of boxes piled against the wall adjacent to the couch. He opened the flaps on one of the cardboard containers and reached in. Pulling out a gray t-shirt, he threw it to Channing.
“Here. Try this.”
Channing caught it and held it up.
“Franklin Bulldogs—1987 Arizona State Champions.” He read aloud, then looked at Logan. “Woah. Talk about vintage.”
“Yeah, these boxes are full of them. Dad said it was a big deal when they won; apparently, the school went a little crazy and ordered too many.” Logan meandered over to the old couch and flopped down, causing dust from years of disuse to fly into the air.
Pulling the stained shirt over his head, Channing brought the vintage tee to his face and sniffed it. “Musty.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
“Just go without one.” Logan winked.
“Teachers might complain, otherwise I would.” Channing smiled.
“I believe you.” Logan laughed, then patted the partially torn cushion beside him and motioned for Channing to join him. “Just leave it off for now.”
Channing shrugged and strolled towards Logan, who never took his eyes off him.
“How’d this get here?” Channing sat down. His leg rubbing against Logan’s.
Logan pointed his thumb behind them, before laying his arm along the back of the couch, resting it very close to Channing’s naked shoulders.
Channing turned his head and saw the scratching on the cinderblock wall behind them. Looking as though the letters had been made with a nail, and colored in with a blue ink pen, he read aloud: “‘The Deadbeat Club 1975’.”
“Deadbeat Club.” Channing laughed. “I wonder if they were B-52 fans.”
“Who?” Logan’s arm moved a little closer to Channing.
“You know B-52’s? Love Shack?” He turned to him and smiled.
Logan shook his head.
“Rock Lobster?” Channing’s voice got higher.
“Nope.” Logan flipped his hair out of his eyes.
“I can’t believe you have never heard of the B-52’s. They’re only, like, the best New Wave pop group ever! What kind of music do you listen to?” Channing watched as a single curl of hair flopped back down into Logan’s beautiful blue eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know. Imagine Dragons, Angel Dust, Fever 333.” He rattled off.
“Nope.” Channing grinned.
“Come on, dude. Surely, you’re heard of Radioactive? It’s a classic.” Logan became more animated.
“Define classic.” Channing lifted his chin.
“I think it came out in,” Logan squinted his eyes as if thinking hard, “2012?”
“A song that came out in 2012 is classic to you?” Channing frowned. “Seriously?”
Channing did the calculation in his head and realized Logan was only ten years old in 2012, which blew his mind, as it seemed like that was only yesterday to him.
“Dude. Yeah. I mean, that was my favorite song when I was a kid." He rubbed Channing’s shoulder. “What was yours?”
Channing’s mind jumped back immediately. “Okay. You promise not to laugh?” He turned towards Logan and pulled his legs up into the lotus position.
Logan stared at his bare chest. “I don’t promise. But shoot.”
“Okay, when I was, like, five-years-old, my favorite song was Boogie Fever by a group called The Sylvers. My mother and I were shopping at K-Mart one day, and I begged her to buy the forty-five for me. I can still remember watching her thumb through the Top Ten hits until she found it. She bought it, and I couldn’t wait to get it home and play it.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Anyway, me being a stupid kid, put it on the dashboard of the car while we went to Howard Johnson’s for lunch. I remember ‘cause I loved their spaghetti.” Channing stopped. “Oh, and this was in the middle of summer, by the way.” He raised his index finger as if he forgot to mention that critical part of the story. “So, we ate, and when I got back in the car, I grabbed it from the dash, and saw that the sun had warped it all to shit. I wouldn't stop crying until Mom went back to the store and bought me another one.” He laughed.
Logan burst out laughing.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh.” Channing punched him on the shoulder.
“I’m just trying to understand it. I’m guessing a forty-five was some sort of record? Boogie? Isn’t that like a disco? Howard Johnson’s? What year were you born?” He continued laughing.
Channing realized he had slipped up, wishing he had said CD. “Just drop it. It was a stupid story.” He jumped up, flustered. “Let’s play foosball.”
“No. Wait.” Logan grabbed his arm and jerked him back down to the couch, causing more dust to fly. Channing looked down at Logan’s hand on his arm.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Logan glared at him like a detective interrogating his suspect.
“2005.” He caught himself before he slipped again and almost said 69. “I’m playing yellow.” He faced the foosball table and tried to stand.
Logan moved his hand to Channing’s shoulder and held him down. “You’re hiding something.”
“Excuse me?” Channing cocked his head.
“I can tell. You’re lying.”
Channing began to sweat as the anger started to boil inside him. “Why in the fuck would I lie about the year I was born?”
“I don’t know. Why would you?” Logan raised his head up and gave him a suspicious look, the look reminding Channing of one of the detectives on 48 Hours, his favorite reality show.
“I’m leaving. Now let me up.” Channing tried to stand again, but Logan would not let go.
“Channing.” Logan put his hands on both sides of his face and turned his head to look him directly in the eyes, a move that Channing was not expecting. “You can trust me. I really like you. A lot.”
Channing’s eyes watered. “I can’t tell you, Logan. Let’s just say I was really screwed up before I came here, but I’m happy now.”
A few seconds of silence passed before Logan finally nodded. He stared deeply into Channing’s eyes and gently pulled him forward. Closing his eyes, Logan pressed his lips softly against Channing’s. Channing felt warmth all over as he experienced the gentlest kiss of his life. As they parted, he smiled.
“Thanks for understanding, Logan.”
Logan smiled and nodded. “Chan, I know we agreed not to see each other because of Cam, but I’m finding it harder to resist you.”
He rubbed Channing’s bare shoulders, sending shivers down Channing’s spine.
“Logan,” Channing sighed and stared at the stubble on Logan’s chin, “I’m…I’m…so…” He looked down at his fourteen-year-old body, then to the chest hair that peeked out of Logan’s V-neck shirt. “…much…not like…you.”
Confusion filled Channing’s mind. Once he had been a fifty-year-old man and always had a thing for younger guys. Now it was backward; he was the younger guy, and he was not just young. He was very young. At fourteen, his body was more sexually mature and somewhat closer to Logan’s level. The age difference didn’t seem so bad, but Logan was still more developed and manly. He felt immature and embarrassed.
Logan smiled. “I know, Chan. You’re three years younger than me.”
Channing hung his head. Logan was just too old for him. What would everyone say about a seventeen-year-old boy dating a fourteen-year-old boy? Sure, Tommy’s sister Margaret, at thirteen, had a seventeen-year-old boyfriend, and Tommy’s parents allowed it, but
this was different. Not dating Logan was the sacrifice he had made for his son’s happiness. He looked up at Logan, feeling compelled to tell Logan once and for all that a relationship wasn’t possible
“Logan.” He looked him in the eyes. “I can’t. I don’t want to upset Cam. And…I mean, I’m fourteen. You’re seventeen. How would that even work?”
“I don’t care.” Logan looked him in the eyes. “I told you once that you seem older, and I wasn’t lying. I don’t see you as fourteen. And Cam will get over it. Once…once I tell him about me.”
“But Logan?” Channing pleaded. “You’re like a head taller than me, and my body’s not very…well,” Channing was finding it hard to say the word, “mature.”
Logan laughed. “I like short guys. And as far as your body’s maturity, damn, dude, look at you. If you didn’t have some juice flowing, you wouldn’t have a body like that. When did you start lifting weights? Ten?”
Channing broke into a smile. “I kinda became obsessed with bodybuilding a couple of years ago.”
“Well, it shows.” Logan paused and became serious once again. “So, quit worrying about the age thing. Now, if you had told me you were any younger, that would have been a problem.” He laughed.
“I promise I’m fourteen.” Channing made the sign of the cross, thankful that Tommy’s measurements weren’t any further off.
“Good." Logan laughed. “Then no problem.”
Channing started to lean forward to kiss Logan once again when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye near the boxes. A giant rat scurried across the floor, causing him to yelp.
“Shit!” He screamed. “I hate rats!”
“Fuck!” Logan pulled his legs onto the couch. “It’s huge!”
“Let’s get out of here!” Channing jumped up, grabbed the musty shirt, and his dirty one, and they both shot out of the room.
Once Channing pulled on his replacement shirt, and they were back upstairs in the main hallway, he checked his watch. “Shit, we’re late for class.”
Logan looked up at the clock hanging next to the mural of Louie Pasteur. “I’ve got History, and Mr. Green is a hard ass about tardiness! I’ll text you later. Okay?”
American Dreamer Page 20