“Which sounds pretty damn promising,” a new voice interrupted. David and Maggie looked up toward the end of the porch.
Richard came around the house, hand-in-hand with Jane. “Sure I can’t talk you into coming back to work for me?” he asked with a grin.
“Hey, Rich,” David said, grinning back. He bounded down the steps to grab Richard’s hand for a violent shake, then gave Jane a hug. “No thanks, but thanks! Hey, Jenny, how goes the battle?”
“Endless, as you well know,” Jane replied, hugging him back. “Welcome home, Davey! We’ve missed you!”
“Missed you too,” David replied.
“Hi, Maggie,” Jane said with a smile. “Isn’t it nice to have our Davey home again?”
“I think so, but my husband says I’ve got a screw loose anyway,” Maggie said cheerfully. David pretended to hit her with his beer bottle.
“Behave, or I won’t buy your beater.”
“‘Beater’? I’ll have you know that’s a classic!”
“Are you buying Maggie’s Saturn?” Richard asked. “Good car.”
“Well, you should know, you’ve had what, five? Six?” David grinned.
“Only four, counting the convertible.”
“Guy’s a gazillionaire and he drives Saturns,” David said to Jane.
“I’m practical,” Richard said.
“It’s a change from Volkswagens,” Jane told David. “And we do have the Rolls for showing off.”
“Now that is a classic car,” David agreed. “A ’36 Silver Ghost? They don’t come any more classic.”
“I thought Alan was going to cry when he retired,” Richard said. “We had to give him visitation rights. He comes by on Sundays and polishes her just for old times’ sake.” He was silent a moment, then said carefully, “We’ve got a few cars in the garage that when they’re restored could probably compete with the Rolls. Zach’s working on the engines—auto shop was always his favorite class in high school—and then we’re going to see about getting someone to do the body work. Right now, he’s working on a ’71 Dodge Charger convertible. It’s a beauty.”
“So how are you getting home?” Jane asked Maggie brightly.
“Oh, Alex is going to swing by on his way home from work.”
“He’s a bright kid, Alex,” Richard said. “His team leader likes him, and George doesn’t like many people.”
David laughed. “George doesn’t like anyone.”
“Okay, well, then,” Richard said, “George doesn’t hate him.”
“That’s about the best you can expect with George,” Jane said.
“You guys want something to drink?” David offered. “I’ve got more Sam Adams in the refrigerator. Or you can have juice, soda, whatever.”
“Sam Adams sounds good. Jenny?”
“Sure,” Jane said, and sat down on the porch steps next to Maggie. Richard sat up a step or two, his long legs tucked around his wife. After David came out and handed them their beers, he swung up onto the porch railing and linked his feet around the slats. “Been hiking yet this year?” he asked.
“We’re thinking of going up to the Peak this weekend with Zach. He hasn’t done any hiking since he came back; at first he wasn’t physically able, but now he’s in pretty good shape. He needs new boots, though; he outgrew his old ones while he was away.”
“He outgrew everything when he was away,” Jane said. “It was silly to keep all his stuff for so long, but I had it in my head that when he came home he’d be just the same as he was when he left. But the difference between fifteen and twenty is pretty substantial. He’s as tall as Richard is now, and his feet are bigger.”
“You never gave up hope that he would come home, did you?” Maggie asked gently.
“No, never,” Jane said with a smile. “I always knew he would.”
“I didn’t,” Richard said bluntly, and he lifted his beer to his lips. When he brought the bottle down, he went on. “I figured he was dead the minute the kidnappers didn’t release him after the ransom. Shit,” he said, “I really didn’t want to get onto this subject. So. David. What does teaching have to offer that working for me doesn’t?”
“Um, let’s see,” David said. “Pathetic salary, lesson plans, staying up all hours grading papers and/or projects, crappy coffee in the teachers’ break room, paperwork….”
“Sounds great,” Richard said. “Sign me right up.”
David laughed. “At least it’s not grammar school. I did student teaching at a grammar school once and it was the longest freaking six weeks of my life. That pushed me toward my master’s more than anything else. As for getting the job at Wesley—I think it was probably more my background at Tyler Technologies that got me the job, rather than my education. They’re really pushing the electronic graphic arts programs there, rather than the traditional forms. But it’s a community college, so they’re going to go for the more economically feasible programs. Doesn’t hurt either that they got a grant for their computer department from a prominent local businessman.” He saluted Richard with his bottle.
“And before you ask, I had nothing to do with you getting the job. I didn’t even know about it until Annie told us yesterday.”
They went on talking about the job, the state of Tyler Technologies, Maggie and Alex’s baby daughter Annabel, and inconsequentials, until Alex pulled up to pick up Maggie. They chatted a bit with him, then the younger couple drove away, and Richard and Jane bid David good night and another welcome home and started their walk back to the main house, hand in hand like a couple of teenagers. David watched them go until they crested the hill beyond the house and vanished from view. Well, he thought, that wasn’t bad. Apparently, whatever grudge Zach had against him didn’t bleed into Dick and Jane’s opinion; they treated him the same as they always did.
He sat on the porch a while longer, watching the light fade. The sunset was spectacular, as usual; the white clouds stark against the blue gradually turning all shades of pink and purple and orange. He remembered that it was just about sunset the night the world changed, too. Dropping Zach off after a soccer game, the kid all sweaty and excited in his dusty, muddy shorts and uniform T-shirt…. He’d left his game shoes on the floor of David’s Cavalier, and David had thrown the car into park and gone after him with them.
Zach had stopped and turned, grinning—no, glowing—with triumph from his team’s win, his eyes bright and his face alight with the soft colors of the sunset, and David froze a half a dozen steps from him, holding the shoes out wordlessly, shattered by a sudden, unexpected realization. He’d never thought of Zach as anything other than the little tagalong, the kid that he schlepped to baseball practice and soccer practice and football practice, that he’d taken on hundreds of hikes, shepherded through skiing lessons, beat in video games, shared the big events and the little. But suddenly he realized that Zach was nearly as tall as his own six-foot frame, and broad-shouldered and strong, with the faint beginnings of a five-o’clock shadow, and the notion shook him. Zach wasn’t a kid any longer.
Still smiling, Zach stepped forward and took the shoes, then dropped them on the ground. “I’ve been waiting for you to look at me like that,” he said, and kissed him, his mouth soft and warm on David’s.
For an instant, David fell into the kiss, barely feeling Zach’s hand curling around the back of his neck, only aware of the scent of Zach and sweat and mud and the taste of his mouth, peanut butter and chocolate from the candy bar he’d eaten after the game. Zach’s tongue licked inside, teasing his.
Then he jerked away and stared at Zach in disbelief. “What…?” he stammered.
Zach laughed delightedly. “The look on your face!” he chortled. “What’s the big deal, Taff? You’re gay; I’ve known that for a long time. Well, so am I.”
“You aren’t gay,” David said. “You’re fifteen.”
“Since when are the two mutually exclusive?” Zach asked. His smile faded. “So—what? You’re not interested?” He swallowed. “Gee, sorry.
Didn’t mean to infringe on your personal space or anything.”
“No,” David said, putting out a hand. “Zach… Jesus, Zach, you’re fifteen. It’s—it’s like hero worship, or a crush, or something. You’re too young—fuck, Zach, you’re jailbait.”
“You’re only three years older than me,” Zach retorted. “And I’ll be sixteen in two months. I’m not stupid, Taff. I’m not imagining things. And I didn’t imagine the way you just looked at me. Hell, the way you’re looking at me now. You want me, Taff. I can see that.” He reached down and palmed the thick, heavy ridge of David’s erection through his jeans. “You want me like I want you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“It ain’t okay,” David snarled, grabbing Zach’s questing hand. “You’re fucking jailbait, Zach, if nothing else.” He took a deep breath, but that didn’t help; all he could smell was sweet, sweaty Zach, all he could feel was the taut muscles of his wrist under the silkiness of his young skin, all he could see was the beautiful curve of Zach’s cheek and the arch of that wickedly sweet mouth. “Christ,” he muttered, and despite himself reached up to stroke that silky cheek. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Zach. Yeah, I want you, but you are too. Fucking. Young. And here I am perving over you. Jesus.”
“‘Perving’? Is that what you think? Like you’re some old man and I’m just some kid?” Zach’s voice was hurt.
“Not ‘just’ some kid,” David said miserably. “But you are a kid, Zach. You got time… Jesus, think about it. Just—think about it.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for two fucking years,” Zach snapped. “Ever since I figured out that girls just don’t do it for me. You know what my wet dreams are about, Taff? Dicks.”
David covered his ears. “I can’t hear this. Fuck, Zach, your parents are gonna go berserk. They’re gonna blame me for this. I am so dead.”
“Fuck you,” Zach had said, and walked away. David had walked back to the car but hadn’t gotten in; he just stood beside the driver’s side door and rested his forehead on the warm metal of the roof.
Richard’s voice had come out of the gathering twilight. “David.”
David looked up to see Zach’s father standing with Zach’s forgotten soccer cleats in his hand. It didn’t take a genius to see that Richard knew exactly what had just gone on between David and Zach. “I’m going,” David said curtly. “I won’t talk to Zach again.”
“That’s not necessary,” Jane said from behind Richard.
David groaned. “I take it you heard everything?”
“Enough,” Jane said. “Enough to hear you discouraging him. David, we’ve known—or suspected—that Zach was gay for a long time, but he never seemed to think of you as anything but a big brother, and so we didn’t worry about it. He never seemed interested in sex of any kind….”
“Which in itself was a little weird for a teenage boy,” Richard said, “but Zach is hardly your average teenage boy.”
“We meant to have this talk with you sooner or later,” Jane said uncertainly. “We just thought we had a little more time.”
“So, what?” David asked, looking from one to the other. “You want me to leave, right? Take that scholarship you offered me? And go—where, someplace like the Sorbonne? University of Moscow? Is that far enough?”
“We’re not asking you to leave, Davey,” Richard said. “Particularly after hearing what we did.”
“And what was that?” David asked in confusion.
“You said just what we would have asked you to. That Zach is too young for a relationship—with you or with anyone else—and that he should wait until he was older. Zach’s brilliant, but he’s still emotionally a kid. He’s not ready for anything like that. And when he is—whether it’s with you, or with someone else—we’ll deal with it then as appropriate.” He hesitated. “Zach was accepted by the early admissions program at MIT. We weren’t going to let him go because he is so young, but we’re reconsidering it. It would mean relocating to Boston for the school year, but there’s no reason I can’t work from there; it’s just been more convenient to be so close to home. I’m not saying this because we plan to keep you two apart, but because hopefully the excitement of college will distract him from feeling resentful of us trying to rein him in a bit.”
“I’m not in favor of the idea,” David said bluntly. “At MIT, he’s gonna be meeting and working with guys even older than I am, who are used to students who aren’t as young as Zach. They’ll think of him and treat him like a contemporary, particularly since he doesn’t talk or act like your average fifteen-year-old. If you don’t want him in a sexual relationship, keep him away from that kind of environment.”
“You have a good point,” Jane said, nodding. “Zach is not the only brilliant kid around here, Davey.”
David shook his head. “Not brilliant. It’s just common sense. I’ve visited friends at college and I know what kind of crazy-assed shit goes on. Jeez, guys—you aren’t that old—don’t you remember how it was?”
Richard actually flinched. “Shit.”
“See?”
“Yeah. So we deal with it as is.”
“Zach’s upset, though,” Jane said. “He’s angry with David, and hurt.”
“I’ll apologize,” David began, but Richard shook his head.
“No, don’t. Zach needs to learn that he can’t get everything he wants.”
“I wonder….” Jane said thoughtfully.
“What, Jenny?”
“Well, my sister Alicia’s been asking for Zach to come visit her. She’s the one who’s got a grant to study climate change at the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve. Zach was excited at first when she invited him, but then he lost interest.” She glanced at David. “I think I know why, now. But maybe it would be good for him to go see her after all. It would be a distraction….”
And how, David thought wearily as he watched the sun slip behind the mountains. Quite a distraction for all of us, particularly after Zach disappeared from the San Jose airport in Costa Rica….
Still, that was all over.
Right.
A wave of grief as strong as any he’d had during Zach’s five-year absence washed over him, and he clutched the porch railing. The grief didn’t care that Zach was home, safe, recovering. All it cared about was that Zach was as irrevocably lost to David as if he had died in that jungle.
“Shit,” David said angrily, wiping tears from his face. “Shit.” He slammed into the house, went to the kitchen, and turned on the little under-cabinet TV, switching channels until he found a loud, mindless game show to keep him distracted until his mother came home.
HE MANAGED to make it through dinner with Annie without breaking down. Afterwards, they watched a movie on HBO; then when Annie announced that she needed to get to bed, he said, “You go ahead. I’m still antsy. I think maybe I’ll take my new wheels out for a drive.”
“Don’t drink,” Annie said automatically, then yawned.
“Maximum one beer,” he promised. “I just need to reconnect with the old neighborhood. I won’t be late.”
“You’re an adult, Davey,” she said, then dimpled. “Okay, that’s a bullshit line. You’re still my baby, so don’t be late, don’t talk to strangers….”
“And I’ve got on clean underwear in case I fall off my bike and need to go to the hospital. Yeah, Mom, I know the routine.” He kissed her cheek. “It’s good to be home, Mom. Even if you’re a total whack job.”
She smacked his butt. “What a way to talk to your mother. Go. Have fun. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t, he said, and kissed her again.
HE DROVE around for a while, seeing what was new and what had changed in his old stomping grounds. After an hour, that wasn’t helping anymore, so he pulled into a Wesley bar he used to hang out in occasionally. It looked pretty much the same—more or less a local pub, but friendly to the gay community in Wesley and the Springs. It didn’t have the little back rooms some of the more blatantly pick-up places did, but David had
met a guy or two he’d liked here.
It being a Wednesday, the lot wasn’t as full as it would have been on the weekend, but there were still more than a few cars parked there. Cars, and an amazingly hot-looking Ducati motorcycle. The sodium lights in the lot didn’t give a true impression of the color, but David thought it might be red. Wow, he thought, looking the bike over. He didn’t know much about motorcycles, but he knew that Ducatis were the top of the line, and kind of rare here in Harley country.
He picked out the owner the minute he walked in. The guy stood with one foot on the brass rail, leaning forward on the polished black surface of the bar. He was tall; taller than David by a couple of inches, from what David could see. He paused a moment to admire the way the broad shoulders tapered into a lean waist, a taut, fuckable ass, and long legs in black denim. A black leather jacket was thrown on the barstool beside him. Ducati guy, David thought. Only a biker would wear leather in this weather.
The guy had his hair buzzed, but what was there was thick and black as the T-shirt that stretched over those wide shoulders and muscled arms. There was something entirely too sexy about the way the shirt bagged loosely where it brushed the narrow waist of the jeans. The T-shirt and buzz cut left his neck bare, and David frowned as he came closer and saw the ridge of scar tissue that marred an otherwise perfect view. It looked like the guy had been strangled or something.
Then he was standing at the bar next to the guy ordering a beer, and when he turned he saw the man’s profile, the strong jaw set and the face expressionless. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Zach??”
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 6