by H. D. Nels
Help Line
Ian thought he had a boyfriend, Rene, but the guy left him for another man and trouble with the law. He agrees to community service. His friend and assistant Janet takes him to a gay bar after the court appearance. A handsome bartender, Brody, suggests a crisis line, which Ian embraces.
Things get serious between Ian and Brody. Eventually, a conflict with another volunteer followed by an intense Help Line call leaves Ian conflicted. Helping a friend who falls leads to a visit to emergency and results in both Brody and Ian meeting Colby.
The three become friends, which evolves into something more. Ian has to deal with his jealousy over how Brody and Colby interact. An argument helps clarify feelings between the three, but Ian has to decide if he can love two men, and worries about their families’ reactions.
Genre: Alternative (M/M/M, Gay), Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length: 42,575 words
HELP LINE
H.D. Nels

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
HELP LINE
Copyright © 2017 by H.D. Nels
ISBN: 978-1-64010-507-2
First Publication: August 2017
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 20172017 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
DEDICATION
To the staff and regulars at Backlot. Every visit is like writing a new chapter and provides interesting fodder for character dialogue.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A man of many talents but master of few. I enjoy spinning a few tales, hoping to briefly bring some smiles, tears and optimism. Everyone deserves a HEA. Partner, father and a lover of the outdoors, many of my stories will have some element of the natural world included.
For all titles by H.D. Nels, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/h-d-nels
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
About the Author
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Landmarks
Cover
HELP LINE
H.D. NELS
Copyright © 2017
Chapter One
Ian Lawler was truly and thoroughly pissed. Those who knew him had never seen him this irate. His court date was coming up and he’d been trying since his arrest to get in touch with his boyfriend. Well, the fucker was definitely an ex now, but he still felt the need to beat this rap. The only way to do that was to find Rene and get him to admit that it was his weed that was found in Ian’s coat. The leather jacket that he’d borrowed to impress his supposedly new boss. Ian shook his head when he realized that, in hindsight, a black leather bomber jacket coupled with tight jeans and a tighter Henley were more likely meant to attract than impress.
Ian had received a strange text asking him to come to a no-tell motel to pick up Rene. So, there he was, in the hallway of a seedy dive outside the partially opened door of a grungy room, when a gaggle of cops surrounded him. He’d produced the demanded identification which an officer compared with another slip of paper then motioned with his head for Ian to come into the room. When asked, he confirmed that the jacket was his. The slip of paper had been a receipt with his name and credit card information from a stay at a hotel with Rene a few weeks prior. Despite trying to get the cops to use reason, he was promptly arrested and charged with possession for the purpose of trafficking.
Ian got madder as he thought about Rene and how the asshole used his credit card to book the room where he was arrested. There had been no sign of the boyfriend anywhere. Ian hired a lawyer and considered a private investigator, thinking surely they would be able to prove that he hadn’t booked or signed for the room. Typical of that type of motel, there were no cameras or monitors to record who came and went. It was all circumstantial but in the long and short of it, Ian had to go to court to face the music played so well by his fucking ex. If he found the asshole again he’d definitely be charged with homicide.
After spending hours at the police station, he had finally been released on bail, and his lawyer strongly recommended he make his scheduled court appearance. It was somewhat inconvenient. Ian had a busy schedule as the Director of Operations at EverBright Entertainment. EverBright was designed to be a place to create goodwill and happy feelings by providing community events such as live plays, movie events, and historical recreations. It sounded corny to him when he was offered the job, but it paid well and he promoted everything with a positive spin. They were booked well in the coming months, so he didn’t have time to deal with this shit.
After several weeks of hearing nothing from Rene, and making his own few calls to the man’s family with negative results, he concluded the prick found another sucker and left for parts unknown. Ian had a nagging feeling he’d be back. Rene had disappeared a few times before but usually made a dramatic appearance later. Still, he was worried enough to file a missing person report with the police.
He’d thrown himself into his work hoping for a distraction from his upcoming hearing date but it always lingered at the edge of his mind. Only his assistant, Janet, noticed anything in his usually calm demeanor.
She set a steaming mug of coffee on his desk and crossed her arms. “You’re either thinking about your date with destiny, or that sex-on-legs jerk that set you up with said date. Do you want me to come with you this afternoon? For moral support of course, but maybe I could get inspired with new material for a future project.” She gave him a sanguine smile.
Ian rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You can do a play about a drop-dead handsome boss who got sent up the creek for a crime he didn’t commit. The heroine manages to aid in his escape by baking a cake with a spoon inside so he could shovel a tunnel to freedom.”
Janet laughed. “My heroine would have a tunnel burrowing machine inside the cake, complete with an operator who had his coveralls peeled down, so only his lower body was covered. His chest would be covered in fine hair and his steely eyes would betray nothing but confidence. He would have a fine sheen of sweat from his exertion, or maybe arousal by the heroine.” She picked up a magazine from Ian’s desk and began fanning herself. “My Lord, it seems to be hot in here.”
Ian pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Yes, indeed,
it has gotten warm. You’ve made me look forward to a stint in the big house if you plan a rescue like that.”
Janet sent a mock-glare his way. “It happens to be my script, so my hunky burrowing machine operator will not be batting for your team. Unless…” She was clearly thinking of a new scene. “Unless he was a switch hitter. I’ll make sure the character has enough stamina to not only burrow an escape tunnel, but will be able to drill both main characters in the story. That should appease any and all—but as I was saying before the fantasy rolled over me—I’m willing to come with you, for moral support. In fact, I won’t take no for an answer.”
* * * *
Ian met with his lawyer at the courthouse, and after introducing Janet, they proceeded to courtroom number five. Since the Supreme Court ruling on waiting times for trial, there was a push to have cases heard promptly. They had been seated for about twenty minutes when the judge entered and all stood. The lawyer, Philip Roberts, and Ian were directed to approach the bench, along with the prosecutor. The judge read over the briefs once again and looked directly at Ian.
“Mr. Lawler, I’ve seen and reviewed the information that has been gathered during discoveries, as well as statements by the police and defense. The amount of marijuana that was found in your coat was barely over the amount that warrants a charge of possession for the purpose of trafficking. It will only be a matter of months before the law will be amended, making the possession of pot legal within the constraints of regulation. You may choose now to plead innocent, in which case a date will be set for a trial and you will be subject to the decision of that court should you be found guilty. Or, you may accept my proposal that we conclude this matter now. If you do that you will receive a conditional sentence, but not have a criminal record. You will be required to perform three hundred and twenty hours of community service. You will be required to provide the court with confirmation of your contribution on a weekly basis, and once that period has passed, you will be free and clear of further obligation.”
Philip Roberts thanked the judge and asked for a moment with his client. They walked off to the side and, with voices lowered, engaged in a brief discussion.
“I know this judge, he’s wise and progressive. I recommend you accept the terms without hesitation. If we proceed to trial on a plea of not-guilty I can’t assure you of another being so lenient.”
Ian frowned. “Phil, it would be admitting to being guilty when I’m not. Isn’t there a principle at stake here?”
Roberts chuckled. “There is the principle of you doing volunteer work for an organization of your choosing. What’s so bad about that, other than your pride being hurt? We can end this now, save time and money, and avoid the risk of you getting a criminal record. The choice is yours, and you have my recommendation.”
Ian glanced over at Janet who smiled and gave him a curt nod. He knew what she would suggest, as well. They returned to the judge and Roberts thanked him for his indulgence.
“Mr. Lawler, what have you decided?”
Ian shrugged. “Your Honour, I accept your terms and will perform the community service. Thank you.”
The judge looked at the prosecutor and asked if she had any objections. There were none, so the judge outlined the process and directed Ian to the clerk’s office where the formal documents would be concluded. He had forty-eight hours to inform the court of the organization with which he would apply to do his community service.
Ian shook his lawyer’s hand, who said, “I can give you a few suggestions. I’m sure others who know you better than I might have ideas, as well. I recommend you work a schedule into your normal life instead of trying to get it over with quickly. It gives an impression of sincerity to the court as well as the agency with which you volunteer. It will also help you feel better about the outcome.”
Janet linked an arm with Ian as they walked out of the court. “Lunch is on me and I think we should make it a liquid one. There’s no need to go back to the office for the last few hours anyway. It was nice to see everything work out well in the end.”
Ian glanced over at her. “I was counting on doing serious time in the big house with my sweaty drill operator coming to rescue me. That was all swept away by justice being done. Harsh is the only word I have for it.”
There were plenty of places nearer to the courthouse, but Janet decided on a gay bar that had decent food during the day. At night, it became a very different place, with loud music, flashing lights, and all sorts of men looking for mister right-now. Mister Right could damn well wait until later. They found a booth and soon a perky waiter came by to drop menus and take their drink orders.
Janet grinned at the good-looking man and asked, “Do you, by any chance, operate a tunnelling machine when you aren’t waitering? You remind me of someone.”
Ian shook his head and groaned. The waiter took the question in stride. “I’ve been told that I was a tunnelling machine on a few occasions. If your handsome friend here might need any exploratory work done, I’m sure I can rise to the occasion.” He flashed a sparkling set of ivory at Ian.
“I think I’ll have the clubhouse with a side of Caesar salad.” He looked up at the still-smiling waiter. “And I’ll go with orange juice and tonic.”
Janet frowned at Ian. “Way to break the moment. I almost had a side-kick for my new script and you had to go and change the subject.” She sighed. “I’ll have a Greek wrap with no side, a diet coke with vodka, easy on the coke—and for the record, I’d love to watch you in action sometime.” She waggled her eyebrows and the waiter left chuckling.
The reality of the situation dropped on Ian. He blew out a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The sentence is equivalent to forty shifts of eight hours each. That shouldn’t be so bad. I only need to decide where my talent would be best offered.”
Janet rested her chin on the palm of her hand while studying her boss. “I know.” She snapped her fingers. “You could volunteer at something involving kids. You’d be a natural. I’ve seen your pout when you don’t get your way. Your mind tends to lean toward simplistic things. I always thought you might be a touch intellectually immature.” She leaned back and snickered when he glared at her. “What—you’d be able to carry sensible conversations with them that only you would understand.”
“I’d never be able to work with kids. The agency would need to know why I wanted to volunteer, and when they learned it was a condition of the court to avoid a drug conviction, I’d likely be run out of town. So even though I like the little buggers, somewhat, I’d never get clearance to work with them.”
“Seniors then. You can be a caller at their bingo nights and once a month you could do pole dancing at the old folks’ centre.” She dropped that bombshell as the cute waiter returned with their drinks.
“Oh my God, my grandma would so be dropping cash into your G-string. She might even put me back into her will if I told her I knew the dancer. And all those old guys, they wouldn’t have to give them Viagra every night so they don’t accidentally roll out of bed in their sleep.” He flashed that brilliant smile once again.
Ian glared at the man. “I’ve got to do volunteer community service because of a huge misunderstanding. Stripping for the aged is not community service.” He raised his hand, palm out, to cut off the protest from the man. “You’ll have to find some other way of getting back into your granny’s good books if that is even possible. I’m sure my assistant would be glad to give you many ideas.” He glanced at Janet holding out her empty glass, gently swinging it from side to side requesting another, and shook his head.
She giggled as the rush of the hastily downed vodka got into her system. “I think you’d be a hot pole dancer. So, no kids and no seniors. Maybe you could do something like meals-on-wheels or work at a food bank. They must always have a demand. We could book you in here at Chaps to do fundraising, as well. I have a few ideas for that.” She giggled once again.
Their meals arrived, along with Janet’s vodka containing
barely enough pop for colouring. Once again that magnificent smile was flashed at the pair when he asked if they needed anything else at the moment.
Janet took a large drink, set her glass on the table and leaned forward toward the waiter. “Two things—first, we have to find a volunteer gig for Ian to do his community service, so we need ideas. The second is much easier. I’ve watched gay porn but my goal before I die is to see it live and in person. I love seeing hot men in action with all that testosterone and sweat and parts that go from soft to throbbing in the bat of an eye. And those orgasms are mind-blowing, so you two come to my place after we eat and…” She gave a slight hiccup. “S’cuse me. You two come to my place and get down and dirty. I want to watch from the first kiss to sensual strip to roll-over and sleep. You’ll have to do a flip fuck—in the movies that’s where both guys take turns topping.”
The waiter grinned at Ian when he groaned and put a palm over his face. “I’m Brody and I already heard your name. I take it this isn’t a typical conversation when you’re out with the nice lady?”
Ian split his fingers and peeked through with one eye. He lowered his hand, sat back and straightened his shoulders. “The words “nice” and “lady” do not belong in any sentence about Janet.” They glanced over to see her doing obscene things involving her mouth, tongue, and the long, thick wrap. She took another drink from her glass and looked at both men with as innocent an expression as the daughter of the devil could muster.
Ian glared. “Stop playing with your food, you’re arousing the other guests. Brody and I will not be putting on a live sex show for you now, or at any point in this lifetime. We need to concentrate on finding a place where I can volunteer my time and pay my debt to society.” He looked over at Brody. “Janet produces and directs plays at our centre. Now, imagine the pair of us naked on a bed, about to do the nasty while she watched. Can you even begin to picture how that would play out?”